#Patrick bateman smut

[makeyoumine69]

Daddy Knows Best 4.0

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Even though you and Patrick are not dating, at some point the Daddy and Little Girl game between the two of you came to a very controversial point when Bateman suddenly began to feel jealous and extremely possessive of you. And he is certainly not happy about it.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Smut, Daddy kink, dry humping, handjobs, face riding (f), cum play, mild overstimulation, teasing, spanking, jealousy, choking, dirty talk, pet names, Patrick is possessive and hypocritical af.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 2.2k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: Modern Talking—Sweet Little Sheila💕

𝐀/𝐍: I got a lot of asks where people wanted me to make Patrick really jealous in this story, so I decided to add some plot for the drama. I hope you enjoy it!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [Daddy Knows Best 1.0]; [Daddy Knows Best 2.0]; [Daddy Knows Best 3.0].

Being on top of this man was always exciting, but being on top of him when he was spread out flat beneath you, his hands pinned to the mattress and his cheeks a little flushed from such a vulnerable position was even more alluring. It was intoxicating, to say the least. 

"C'mon, kitten," Bateman bounced you on his knees, making you move with him, but you didn't react even when he bit his lower lip and gave you a look full of need and something that could be called affection. "Don't keep Daddy waiting long."

You chuckled and pressed his wrists even tighter, then bent down to peck his freshly shaved cheek and you could still smell his lotion - the scent fresh and tangy. "Are you in a hurry or something? It's Saturday!" You chirped, your hips slowly rocking back and forth, grinding against his hard bulge, but not crossing the line because you wanted to tease him, to inflame him to the point where he couldn't control himself. "I think we have plenty of time."

Gasping breathlessly, Patrick groaned but stopped struggling. "Uh, honey," the man let you turn his head to the side, and as you traced a wet line with your tongue, you sensed his dick throbbing against your soaped pussy lips, his briefs getting wetter with each passing moment. "You better not test me-"

"Or what?"

Bateman sneered, revealing his perfect white teeth including his fangs, which looked really sharp. The sight made you imagine how easily those fangs could sink into your skin and spill some blood as you kissed his collarbone and then his prominent chin. "What a brat," he growled, shifting his legs a bit to lie more snugly. "But I like you being bold, I really do," he hissed, his eyebrows furrowed as you humped his hard groin. "It suits you, babygirl...uh-mmm-fuck..."

"You like it, Daddy?

"Yeah," Patrick replied in a husky voice, fighting the urge to flip you over and fuck you senseless. "Keep...k-keep going like that."

The way he bucked his hips to give you more space to play with only added to your movements, but when you saw him close his eyes as the man lost his temper, you quickly straightened up on top of him before bending down to pull down his tight briefs—the moment you did, his strained cock popped out. Flustered and thrilled, Patrick couldn't help but moan as you trapped his dick between your juicy thighs and began to slide along it.

"A-ahhh, you make Daddy feel so good, kitten," he was barely able to speak as his hands clung to the sheets and his knuckles soon turned white. "You're gonna make me cum...I fucking swear!"

"Mmh...yes...yes, please," your movements became more and more jerky and intense, but as you leaned against his strong chest with one hand and wrapped another around his cock to stroke it—the stars began to dance before your eyes. "Please...Daddy...I want your cum!"

Pumping his dick and never ceasing to slide your inner thighs over it, you whimpered loudly as you rubbed his red-hot head against your swollen clit, smearing his thick pre-cum around your cunt and his length. God, it felt so good and yet so sinful, you never really thought you were capable of such things, but this man - he was like the key that unlocked the door to your most depraved desires.

Inflamed to the point of no return, you threw your head back, literally grinding against his hot flesh as your hands were busy working him up, his dense fluid forming a ring around the base of his cock as he literally drooled hard. You knew Bateman was on the verge of falling apart, you knew it but you never stopped because you wanted him to moan louder, to thrash around on his expensive sheets since he was so vulnerable like that. Vulnerable, but absolutely perfect in the way he unraveled for you. The thin layer of sweat covering his skin made it glow even brighter, the red tint spreading all over his body, contributing to the sight, but when you cupped his balls to give them a gentle squeeze, Patrick gripped your hips so tightly that you squealed in surprise.

"Daddy! It h-hurts," you murmured in a shaky voice, looking down at his agitated face, his eyes half closed, and you were afraid he was going to draw some blood because he was biting his lip so hard. "You...you're so savage and strong and..." the praise you knew would help him reach his peak never failed. "Cum for me, Daddy, please..."

The moment he arched his back, you heard him growl as loud as if he was going to die—the rawness of it almost pushed you over the edge too, but now you were so focused on his orgasm that you didn't really care about yourself—Bateman was writhing beneath you as he couldn't stop himself from cumming around your belly again and again, and you didn't let a drop of his seed go to waste, spreading it all over your body, especially your chest, even taking a quick taste of it.

"Fuck, oh-fuck," the man kept mumbling, his hands digging into your skin one more time until they fell off your thighs like two heavy whips. "You... you are such a stubborn girl," he grinned, panting and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Thriving on being in control, huh?"

Propping himself up on his elbows, he gave you a playful wink, but you were still on top of him, and little did he know of your further plans—you were not done yet.

Without saying a word, you pressed him down with your weight, only to change positions and take a place over his blushing face. The man was shocked, but he didn't stop you, and this kind of obedience was thrilling, yet a bit suspicious, but you didn't care about that now. 

"Maybe it's you who desperately wants to be controlled?" You murmured teasingly before lowering yourself to rub your wet pussy along his chin, then his nose. "You can just admit it...I won't tell anyone-ah!"

The second his hot tongue made contact with your overstimulated little bud, you thought you were going to faint—it felt so amazing and heavenly. How in the world could this man be so good at everything related to sex?

There were so many questions you wanted to ask him, but now, oh now, you were so close to your second orgasm as you rode his face and Patrick only encouraged you to use him more enthusiastically by spanking your ass and then stroking your burning skin. It was sick. Bateman skillfully alternated between sucking your clit in his mouth, but then he was already probing your soaking entrance with his tongue, allowing you to fuck yourself on it as you bucked your hips against his face, grabbing his head and almost scratching his scalp. And the sounds this madman made, uh, they were so fucking hot and the vibration they caused was like an electric shock cursing through your system. Whenever it came to eating your pussy, Bateman was like a thirsty beast, literally feasting on you, his deadly grip leaving you no choice but to submit to the inevitable rush of pleasure that would wash over you like a tidal wave.

A week later, Patrick decided to give you a break from his intrusive persona, which was both relieving and frustrating because you couldn't stop thinking about him having fun with other girls while you were busting your ass at work. And it so happened that you were working as a paralegal because you had recently graduated from law school, so you couldn't work as a lawyer right now, and the craziest thing was that your boss was Bateman's lawyer. That was how you met him in the first place. One day you were stuck in the office late at night when Patrick showed up, and since he couldn't find Mr. Carnes, his full attention was on you. But how did you let him get under your skin so quickly? Bateman was so persistent in pursuing you until you said yes and the two of you had your first date. Now it all felt like it had happened a long time ago.

Tired as hell, you were organizing documents into folders at your desk when you heard the door crack with an unpleasant sound that immediately caught your attention.

"Mr. Carnes, I'm almost finished..." Your words stuck in your throat as you raised your eyes to see Bateman walk in with that classic arrogant smile that made him HIM. "Pat...Mr. Bateman?"

After a soft chuckle, the man stopped in front of your desk, clasped his hands together and looked at you intently. "Hello, little one," he purred, smiling even more mischievously. "Where is Harold? I have some important business to attend to."

Breathing a sigh of relief that he was not here for you but for his business stuff, you opened the drawer and took out your notebook. "Let me check Mr. Carnes' schedule," you replied in the most formal way you could muster, and that brought a sparkle to Patrick's eyes. "One moment."

"You sound so sexy when you're being bossy. Did someone tell you that?" Patrick asked seductively, leaning on your table as he adjusted his coat, even though he already looked perfect. "Someone like Carnes?"

Bateman's audacious statement forced you to stay still for a split second, barely managing to hold the notebook in your suddenly weak hands. 

Am I delusional, or does he really sound... jealous?

"Excuse me?" 

"Carnes," Bateman spat out your boss's last name before walking around the desk to stand right next to you. "What kind of relationship do you two have?" Rolling your eyes, you wanted to get back to what you were doing, but then Patrick suddenly grabbed your hand—you almost shrieked—and pulled you closer right against his buffed form. "Tell me!"

"Just business," you blurted out, but didn't try to break free, afraid that people outside the office might hear you. "Why do you even ask?"

The man didn't answer—instead, he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your neck, grabbing it in the most unexpected way—Bateman's eyes were like two big pools of black gold. For a fleeting second, time seemed to stand still and all surrounding sounds ceased to exist. There was only the two of you and your wildly beating hearts. 

"Look at you," he hissed into your face, scorching it with his hot breath. "That skirt can barely cover your ass! When did you start wearing such slutty clothes?"

This was already too much.

In desperation, you tried to push him back with both hands, forgetting the notebook that fell on your desk with a thud. "Let me go...that's not...a turn-on for me!"

"Oh, really, honey?" Patrick spat out the words, his grip getting tighter and tighter around your throat, sending a chill of horror down your spine. "Did that bastard tell you to dress up like that?!"

"N-no," you managed to plead, your voice hoarse from lack of oxygen. "Stop it!"

Just when you thought he was about to strangle you, there was a barely perceptible commotion from behind the door, and the next second someone opened it, literally saving you as Bateman had to let go of your neck and stand back as nothing happened. The unexpected intruder turned out to be a middle-aged man who looked extremely rich, judging by the number of seal rings he wore on almost every finger. 

"Bateman, is that you?" The stranger croaked, his lips curled into a cocky smile. "Looks like our old friend Harold is having a busy day."

Seizing the moment, you quickly straightened your skirt and blouse, which looked a bit disheveled after the unplanned encounter with Patrick, then grabbed the notebook and almost ran to the other side of the room while two men were busy talking to each other. You were so scared that Bateman would chase you, even as you left the office, on your shaky legs that threatened to give way. Panting, you didn't even look where you were going, because you were so panicked about lying to Patrick, and you hated that. But how could you tell him that his lawyer really told all the women around him to wear skirts and high heels?

As if he didn't say the same thing to his secretary.

You cringed at your own thoughts as you walked down the hallway, ignoring the staring eyes of your co-workers and unfamiliar clients—you wanted to escape this place the day you started working here, but now that desire had taken on a new dimension. And then the worst thing happened—your boss walked right up to you, smoking a cigar and holding his briefcase. And of course, he spotted you faster than you could actually change your route.

Damn it!

[fear-is-truth]

𝐇𝐈𝐌 & 𝐈 𝜗ϱ . . . 𝓟𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝓑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍

tags — fem!reader﹒sfw + nsfw﹒headcanons﹒drug use﹒kinda toxic relationship﹒ p in v﹒handjobs﹒choking﹒use of the word “daddy”

SFW

has a habit of disappearing without explanation, sometimes for days at a time. when he returns, he acts as though nothing happened, brushing off your concerns with dismissive and cryptic responses.

extremely critical of appearances as he doesn’t handle flaws well—patrick fully expects you to mirror his aesthetic standards. even the slightest imperfection, such as chipped nail polish or an out-of-place hair, will piss him off. you’re basically his personal doll at this point—he buys you designer clothes, ensuring you wear the “right” brands to fit his ideal of a partner. he notices everything, from your choice of perfume down to the shade of lipstick you wear. if you switch brands, he’ll immediately make a comment on it.

prefers to keep conversations shallow and detached, as deep emotional topics make him uncomfortable. he constantly rambles about his niche obsessions—pop culture, business cards, and the “superiority” of certain types of suits. that being said, patrick talks at you rather than with you. he can yap on for an entire dinner about the fabric quality of valentino suits or the importance of a tie that “truly complements the suit’s structure.”

a walking encyclopedia on serial killers. in the middle of any conversation, he’ll start spouting facts about ted bundy or ed gein. he expects you to be thoroughly impressed by his knowledge and gets viscerally disappointed if you don’t show interest.

genuinely believes his opinions on music are groundbreaking. he’ll pull out albums and spend a good thirty minutes explaining why genesis or huey lewis and the news are masterpieces, analysing lyrics and production with the passion of a critic.

talks about dorsia as if it’s the holy grail of fine dining. if he’s lucky enough to get a reservation, he’ll spend days before and after the meal casually hyping it up to everyone, making sure they know he managed to get a table. however, if he fails to secure a reservation, it completely ruins his week. you sometimes wonder if he’d cry over it. (as a matter of fact, he does)

frequently asks if you think his business card is better than “so-and-so’s,” as if it’s a critical matter. if he gets even a whiff of another guy’s success, patrick becomes obsessed with one-upping them. you’ve had to sit through countless complaints about paul allen, his dorsia reservations, the fisher account. he can’t handle criticism, especially if it challenges his idea of “perfection.” if you casually mention you’re not a fan of his music taste or his suit choice, he’ll literally sulk about it for days.

when patrick gets jealous, you’ll catch him clenching his jaw, his hand gripping your waist a bit too tightly. sometimes he’ll try to act indifferent, but the slight sweat on his forehead or the vein throbbing in his temple gives him away.

lives by his routines and gets annoyed if anything disrupts them. you’re expected to adhere to his exact schedule when you’re with him, from gym time to dinner to his beloved skincare regimen. if something goes off-plan, he becomes irritable, even if it’s just because you suggested a new restaurant.

although he appears to be emotionally distant, he’s highly hypersensitive to how he’s perceived by you. an offhand comment or anything less than admiration from you makes him noticeably on edge.

obsessed with acquiring materialistic items that showcase his success. he’ll bring up these possessions repeatedly, and when he buys something new, for instance a painting or a stereo, he’ll practically drag you to admire it with him, giving an extensive monologue on its artistic value or technical specs.

constantly trying to impress you with his wealth or his “connections.” he’ll drop the names of people he “knows” (sometimes with questionable authenticity) or go out of his way to show you his credit card just to emphasise how wealthy he is. patrick assumes his looks and material success is inherently attractive to you, and if you ever show interest in something less superficial, he’s truly baffled.

always subtly fishing for compliments, but he wants them to sound like they’re coming from you, not just because he’s prompting you. if you mention anything flattering about another human, you can see his jaw clench as he makes a mental note to find something he’s “better” at. if you don’t give him the attention he craves, he becomes passive-aggressive until you finally give in and tell him how handsome he is.

if you so much as hesitate before complimenting patrick, it eats at him. he starts nitpicking his own looks, spending even more time obsessing over his skincare routine, gym sessions, and hair products.

to patrick, relationships are transactional. he’s constantly buying you lavish gifts, partially to impress you, but mostly to keep you “tied” to him. he would be genuinely insulted if you didn’t wear or display his gifts, taking it as a personal rejection, even though he never explicitly says this. instead, he’d pout or go into a passive-aggressive silence until you “make it up” to him (usually with sex)

loves the fact that you’re both attracted to and a little intimidated of him. what he doesn’t know is that you also think he’s a pathetic loser.

insecure about whether you actually love him or are just with him for his wealth and status. he craves reassurance but would never directly ask for it, so instead, he does things to elicit compliments from you or waits for you to say something affirming.

secretly torn between wanting to keep you as a sort of trophy and feeling an actual attachment he doesn’t understand. on more than one occasion, he’s imagined what it might be like to marry you—he’s even purchased a 7ct diamond ring on impulse. the thought terrifies him, though. he’s afraid of real intimacy, of anyone truly knowing who he is. still, he sometimes drops hints about “the future,” gauging your reaction to see if you might even consider it.

likes it when you adjust his tie or fix his collar. there’s something about your delicate hands on him, perfecting his appearance, that makes the blood rush to his groin as he reminisces the same pair of hands wrapped around his cock. he’ll even purposely wear his tie a little off or leave his collar slightly askew, just so you’ll step in to fix it.

whenever you say goodbye before he leaves, patrick insists on making eye contact, as if daring you to look away first. it’s his way of ensuring that he’s the last thing on your mind as he walks out the door. expects you to fix his lapel, straighten his tie, or give him a quick peck on the cheek. if you forget or rush the routine, there’s disappointment on his side.

patrick insists on every detail being pristine and coordinated, and he takes pride in the aesthetic of matching “his & hers” items. towels, robes, toothbrushes etc. he doesn’t necessarily see this as sentimental but as a way to project his status to anyone who might see it—like a small, smug reminder that you belong to him. he’ll also make a point to keep these items perfectly aligned on the bathroom sink or kitchen counter, internally congratulating himself when he sees them.

adores watching you in the kitchen, especially if you’re wearing something skimpy or nothing but one of his button-ups left undone just enough. he’ll lean in the doorway, watching as you busy yourself slicing fruit or preparing his bran muffins for breakfast. he often finds himself admiring the delicate curve of your neck, the swell of your ass as you move, though he’d never voice anything genuine about it.

his nicknames for you : “kitten”, “bunny”, “sweetheart”, “doll”, “hun” or “honey” in public, “fuckdoll” in private.

your nicknames for him : “daddy”, “sir”, “pat”

super meticulous when it comes to your wardrobe, especially lingerie. he’s obsessed with victoria’s secret and demands that you wear sets he’s chosen—lace and silk, only in shades he deems “fashionable.” as a way to elevate his experience. he’ll sit back with a drink in hand, watching you with an air of smug satisfaction as you parade around the bedroom like it’s a runway.

has certain… kinks that he knows you wouldn’t approve of. this is when sex workers come in handy. sometimes, he wonders if he could somehow desensitise you or change your mind about these things. he drops hints, gauges your reaction to certain acts, and tests boundaries. if you outright refuse to engage in his fantasies, he holds it against you, making passive-aggressive comments about your “prudish” nature or implying that he “puts up with it” because he “cares about you.”

NSFW

his dry cleaning bill has spiked noticeably ever since you started dating. nearly every other day, a new suit or bedsheet stained with cum is dropped off, patrick never looks the dry cleaner in the eye.

patrick’s version of aftercare is incredibly minimal. he’ll be content to simply roll over or give you a lazy kiss on the shoulder but that’s about as soft as it gets—he’ll immediately head off to the en suite to freshen up. if he’s feeling particularly generous, he’ll hand you a bottled water and that’s that. if you need anything more, he’ll listen, but the faraway look in his eyes suggests he’s already moved on mentally.

very fond of kissing your neck or collarbone, especially before you attend social settings—leaving hickeys and bruises. kisses from patrick can be surprisingly sweet and sensual when he’s in a rare moment of vulnerability, but it’s always short-lived.

he’s become addicted to the sound of your voice, so much so that he has tapes of you—masturbating while saying filthy things. when he’s stressed at the office, he’ll slip on his walkman, listening to your sweet whimpers and moans echo in his ears.

gets a thrill every time you say his name—whether it’s a soft “good morning, patrick” or a “mghm-ahh patrick!” when he’s jackhammering his cock into your cunt. he’s especially weak to hearing you coo or whimper his name, and he’ll go out of his way to make you say (scream) it repeatedly.

has a ritualistic routine for doing coke—spreading a neat line along your stomach and the valley between your breasts, admiring how good you look beneath him. when he leans down to snort the line, he often allows his lips to ghost over your hard nipples.

has no problem dropping obscene amounts of money on you—high-end jewelry, designer clothes, perfumes, he loves the way you look in everything he picks out. “only the best,” he’ll mumble as he fastens a diamond necklace on your neck. but his favourite part is admiring the pieces when he has both hands wrapped around your throat while fucking you.

he’s particular about which rings he picks out, envisioning how they’ll look on your fingers while you jerk him off. there’s something erotic about the way they catch light and glitter against your skin.

you’re kneeling in front of him, the hardwood floor cool against your knees as you stroke his thick, angry cock. patrick reaches down, thumb brushing over the 18k rose gold ring he’d recently bought for you. “looks nice on you,” he mumbles, almost distracted. you watch him for a moment, noticing the way he’s staring at your hand, like the ring is something precious he’s put a part of himself into. “you think so?” you ask, trying to read his expression as you continue to jerk him off. patrick clears his throat, dropping his hand a little too quickly. “of course. wouldn’t have bought it otherwise,”

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[hanasnx]

hip to be square.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: themes similar to the movie | allusions to violence and murder | sexual content | sexism | fiancée!reader | dumbification | degradation | rough sex | anal play references | anal fisting reference | drug references | allusions to asphyxiation.

“You’ve worked up quite a sweat.” PATRICK BATEMAN notes in thinly veiled repulsion. Those cruel hands on your hips restrain themselves, and you can feel that tension against you. Instead, he pours his ample strength into yanking you back on him, choked sounds emit from your gaping mouth. In a way, this is an obligation, he can't really enjoy the way your cunt squeezes him, or how his thumbs fit those perfect back dimples—not in the way he wants to. If it were up to him, he'd squeeze the life out of you while he screwed those lifeless brains to pieces. Finally a bitch like you would be put to good use, eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen grows black dots in your vision. You'd claw at his grip around your neck, easing in to crushing your windpipe, the light would die as he watched, and he wouldn't even falter in his pace. Those hips would still be fucking you, like he is now.

Hard and rough, it hurts. Abusing your cervix as you're bent over the perfect white covers of his California King. You bounce on him like you want more, but in reality you're limp as he directs your body the way he wants it to move. An irrefutable force against you that you are powerless to soothe, unbeknownst to you your only line of defense to protect you from his wrath is the ring on your finger.

You're engaged to him.

In his eyes it was an unavoidable tragedy. All his friends are your friends, you live in his area, and you're a ten minute commute from work. If he's looking to blow off steam during lunch, he'll pop in for a visit and use you up with a pillow covering your head. You don't catch on to the fact he doesn't want to look at you while he ravages you, never question why he insists on hitting it from the back if he can help it. It aids that you've got a nice ass, plump and round and fits in his palms when he handles it. When you aren't being a priss, sometimes you'll let him slip a finger into your asshole. At one point he managed to convince you to let him fist you, but he'd slipped you one to many things that night, narrowly avoiding a messy emergency room visit. There was no way he was going to wait up for you in such a place so late at night. What would he have told everybody? That his fiancée was some junkie? Absolutely not.

Nails dig into your skin at the memory, the salt of sweat burning that raw that makes you mewl. He steels himself from demanding you shut up, instead assuaging the urge by smacking your hand away when you reach back to hold his in a petty attempt to get him to let up. Cruelly, he drills you. Those pathetic noises release in pain, you don't even sound human. "What are you to me?" he spits, looming over your little body as his every muscle contracts fucking into you at a reckless pace. You're sore from his weight, but you can't do a thing about it when being treated like shit never felt so good. A ring of cream foams at his base, taken from you as your cunt confuses punishment for desperation, your expression twisting so hard you'll get wrinkles early. He'll have to divorce you before that happens, otherwise people will think him vain. "Answer me, you idiot, you're supposed to answer me."

Somehow, you don't notice how he's talking to you. How it's different than the cold and distant nature you're accustomed to in public. "Nothing." you breathe out. "I'm nothing." You chase whatever you can get your hands on, scrambling for whatever stupid response you can muster in this state. Apparently, it pleases him, a sea of moans flowing out through his deep voice as he satiates himself using you like a sock with your name on it in his room.

[marishoodie7]

How slashers would react to you getting on top

Includes: Billy Loomis, Charlie Walker, Patrick Bateman

Content Warning: 18+! P in v, overstimulation, riding

(No pronouns mentioned, but reader has female anatomy!)

***

: ̗̀➛ Billy

Your head was hitting the headboard with every thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. You forced your eyes open, “Fuck Billy,” you managed.

He grunted in response. You braced your hands on his shoulder and wrapped your legs around his hips. You rocked to the side and flipped him over. His dick slammed into you, even deeper and you moaned as you made yourself comfortable on him.

The strands of hair that had been flopping around had flattened on his forehead. His demeanor changed and he gave you a sly smile, his eyes darkened and his moved his hands to your hips. You rocked back and forth, slowly bouncing on him before finding a steady pace. You bit your lip as you neared your release, a tight knot that had formed in your stomach was unraveling slowly as you neared release.

Your legs shook and your walls clenched tightly around his dick. Billy bucked his hips up sloppily to meet you halfway before going limp. He let out a deep moan and came. You slowed your movements and gave one last bounce before coming onto him. You laid down on his chest and drifted off to sleep as he praised your performance that night.

:➛ Charlie Walker

“Let me take care of you this time.” You urged.

“Fuck, okay,” Charlie gasped as you stroked his cock, “Jesus.” You smiled at his reaction and gently pushed him onto the bed.

“Lie down.” You commanded. You lowered yourself onto him, his dick stretched out your walls. You didn’t know Charlie was so big. You put your hands on his chest and started to roll your hips. He felt so good inside you. You sped up and Charlie’s eyes rolled up into his head, he whimpered as you clenched around his hardened cock.

He bucked upward and desperately grasped at your hips. Hot tears were streaming down his face, and you could feel his dick twitch inside you. He was close, but you had no plans to stop or slow down.

“Fuck, y/n.” He whimpered as he came. You fucked him right through his orgasm, his face was reddening with overstimulation, his eyes were clenched. His hips stop bucking and he let you do all the work, guiding him towards his next orgasm.

Charlie moaned as he nearing his next release, you were getting closer too, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t. A hot feeling filled you as you came on him. You rolled your hips a few more times before pulling off before Charlie could come. He lay on the bed, whimpering.

“Poor Charlie,” you tutted, without sympathy, “you were such a good boy but I couldn’t let you come this time.” You tan your fingers through his hair as his breath slowed and lost its raggedness. He turned to you and smiled.

“we’re gonna need to do that again sometime.”

: ➛ Patrick Bateman

Patrick drilled into your ass. He loved to hear the pretty screams of pleasure you let out as he fucked you. You were on all fours on the bed and Patrick was grunting above you. He pulled out suddenly and lay down on the bed, his dick rock solid and standing up, and his arms around his head.

“Why don’t we try something different?” He suggested casually as if he hadn’t been pounding into you a moment earlier.

“So you want me to ride you?” You deadpanned. You wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. You had been dreaming of the day where you would get to take charge.

“Yes.” He grinned. You couldn’t help but smile back as you pushed yourself onto him. He tangled his hand into your hair and braced himself for you to quicken the pace. You dig your fingers into his shoulders and sped up, rocking your hips back and forth. His length was stretching out your walls and you could feel his tip hit your g-spot.

You tried to throw your head back but he pulled your hair and forced your face closer to his.

“There you go, slut, ride me like the whore you are. I know how eager you were to wrap my dick around your pussy.” He growled in your ear. Your legs shook and you felt warmth spread through your body. You came on him, and tried to slow down your pace. He only tugged harder and encouraged you to keep going, no matter how sloppy you got.

“Come baby, just ride me a little longer, you got it.” He praised. His dick twitched and he finally released. Your core warmed when it was met with his thick, hot ropes. You unmounted him and slid next to him in the bed. He wrapped his arms around you.

“I should really let you take control more, huh?” He laughed.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “that wasn’t half bad.”

A/N: this is my first time doing head cannons like this! There may be more in the future who know? I hope you enjoyed!

[billsvip]

DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE I CAN FIND A SOUNDGASM THAT SOUNDS LIKE CHRISTIAN BALE/PATRICK BATEMAN. I'm desperate.

[sl4sh3rsub]

patrick bateman hcs (nsfw: mdni)

patrick bateman x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warnings: overall pretty toxic, homophobic and misogynistic, there's a lot of infidelity/cheating and drug usage/alcohol too. there is also shaming of sex work - this is purely fictional and i do not condone this behavior in real life. i wrote in these elements because they appear in the original source material, not because i hold these opinions/views. mentions of extreme kink/fetish (knife play, blood play), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), oral sex (giving + receiving), handjobs, cockwarming, implied dom/sub dynamics (patrick is a top + sugar daddy/dom/slight sadist + is entitled, reader is more submissive + sweet), lots of cum + precum/arousal, reader sometimes treated as sex object, marking (bruises, bite marks, hickeys etc.), dubious consent? (overstimulation, he can be manipulative, reader flashes someone in afab section), reference to past rough sexual encounters, lots of sexual tension, patrick is sociopathic(?) + gets hard a lot + is possessive/slightly domestic but still rough, canon colleagues (schrödinger's judgement + they're horny), nipple play, voice kink/voicemail sex, threats/mentions of canon (?) violence (not towards reader), exhibitionism + public settings, consensual filming of sexual acts, gun play/fear play, cigar gets extinguished on reader (research risks properly before trying irl, please stay safe), hired sex worker, mentions of surgery in ftm + mtf sections, rip jean + evelyn's emotions

a/n: i'm a massive fan of the broadway musical (bootleg available on youtube) and i've seen the film twice, but i still need to read the book!! i've listened to this youtube audiobook (ai voice patrick reading it - part one) and it kinda goes hard. anyway, peeb ateman is soft with reader in this one, so it could potentially be a little ooc.

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

patrick is already engaged to evelyn when he meets you. he's very well aware that she's seeing timothy price, so he might as well have his own fun - divorce isn't in fashion this year, so being prepared for that potential outcome might turn some heads and patrick hates judgmental attention

if you're already in a relationship with someone, he'll whisk you away immediately. you deserve so much better than some chump who can't afford to spoil you, he'll prove his superiority with his shiny silver card

show him genuine affection and take interest in his music taste!! if you listen to him and take time out of your day to participate in conversation, he'll abruptly stop mid-sentence to process that you're invested in his recap of his day :( you'll have no issues with him from then out - you respect him and he'll respect you. he's quietly thankful for how kind you are to him

if patrick has a yearning to dabble in a certain kink or fetish - such as knife play or extreme blood play - that you're not willing to participate in, he'll just find someone who can satiate his needs temporarily. no harm done, patrick just wants to make sure he's not taking complete advantage of you - he'll pay for you to have a delicious dinner and fancy hotel for the night, don't worry. he still wants to take care of you and reassure you that no one is taking your place, and that you'll still have him in the morning... he just needs to let out his extreme urges throughout the night

his way of showing affection is brushing his nose against you, whether it be your temple, ear or cheek as he whispers sweet nothings to you. he longs for subtle contact and the gentle warmth of your skin. he's also addicted to burying his face in your neck or pressing his lips against your crown when he fucks you from behind or squirming in his lap, the small puffs of hot air tickling your flushed skin and his lidded eyes rolling at your scent

he digs his fingers into your lower tummy while he fucks you, feeling his cock ram deep inside you - he's shamelessly using you as his own fucktoy, massaging his length to get himself off. the extra pressure against his tip has him shuddering at the delicious sensation

yeah sure, patrick might be a weirdo and a loser but he can fuck you like he loves you (maybe he does) and spare cash to dry-clean your cum off his expensive suits... fair trade, no?

he practically becomes your sugar daddy - you're his personal doll to dress, provide for and parade around proudly. he wouldn't trade the satisfied glint in your eyes, or the rhythm of your glistening arousal dripping on his wood paneled floors for anything. after a long day of spoiling you, he becomes a little selfish in the bedroom and chases his high with no regard for how overstimulated you might get :(

he is obsessed with dressing you to match his personal perception of you - that is to say, have you dressed in a manner that would make atheists reconsider and have the faithful herald you as their new deity. he wants to ensure that everyone know why he worships you the way he does. even if you don't feel confident in your skin, he quietly reassures you that your bashfulness only adds to your charm

you're his personal model and his precious doll - plaything, if you will. after you return to his place from perusing the designer shops, he lounges back with a whiskey in hand and patiently watches you show off your latest purchases on his card. he'll ask you to spin or swap shoes to match the outfit every so often, even asking you to bend down towards him just so he can adjust your collar or hairstyle. if he gets taken aback by how stunning you look in a certain outfit, expect him to get carried away and start panic rambling - he'll explain the specifics of the material, cut or brand as his fingers roam your body with devotion and his eyes greedily drink you in. his voice gets progressively huskier throughout the show until he gets to the expensive undergarments hidden in matte bags and tissue paper - he fucks you in front of the mirror, reveling in the way the material hugs your skin and how your skin shifts as your muscles clench with every thrust

after he warmed up to you, patrick slowly realized how emotionally taxing your early encounters were on you and that you were left feeling used and roughed up afterwards. if he still makes you feel that way after he first admits his affection, definitely let him know - he might want to leave physical marks on you that linger for a week or so after, but emotional damage is the last thing he wants marring your relationship

something that resembles quiet devotion lingers in his gaze, the glint of chandeliers flashing as he quickly shakes his head and denies he was ever staring :( sure, you might not be the stereotypical 'hardbody', but you're more worth his time than all of the other whores that his cock stirs for - you're leagues better than the sluts turning tricks and actually deserve a place in his home, his bed, unlike the simple chicks he picks up from clubs. he actually respects you (though, not enough to acknowledge your independence away from him) and his silent approval - pride, even - of your actions sometimes slips through his mask

whenever you're in the room with him, there is an invisible yet tangible tension that tugs you together. the warm, compressing feeling always hones your vision onto patrick - it drowns out all of the noises and movement around you, grounding you in the all-consuming gaze of your lover. his eyes snap to yours whenever you enter the room and he instinctively feels a bulge growing in his slacks, his pupils dilating as his tongue darts out to dampen his lips. no polite conversation or mundane styling drivel is worth his time when you are in his field of view

patrick genuinely feels his blood thunder in his ears whenever the men at the table make snide remarks about your appearance or belittle you. he is absolutely disgusted at their attitudes and lack of understanding - you are his darling and you deserve to be treated as his equal, at a minimum. however, if the table murmurs about how sexy you look, he's more than willing to show you off a bit - he's proud of what's his, obviously! just don't let the boys get too bold with their 'polite' touches or they won't have fingers in the morning :<

he'll buy you a ring. not to propose, oh god no - he doesn't want to do the whole evelyn debacle again. patrick wants to simply state his territory and claim so that others would be less inclined to approach you (plus, it helps that he doesn't have to vividly daydream about it anymore - it saves brain power)

if he rushes home with dirty, damp gloves and a missing button on his overcoat, he'll forever be indebted to you if you pour him a stiff drink and prepare to call jean to postpone all events the next day

your head gets all fuzzy when his tongue drags along the line of your collarbone and his soft lips ghost down your chest - circling your nipple and threatening you with the edge of his teeth makes the edge of his mouth twist into a smirk. if you meet his gaze, his lidded eyes give away how content he is in this position, with you on top of his lap. his lips sheened with spit and your buttoned shirt yanked open make for an arousing sight

patrick is a big fan of smoking his cigars while you sloppily take his cock down your throat - he gets some sadistic pleasure from putting them out on your spit-soaked thighs, the drool hissing under the scorching heat. it's coincidentally also one of his favourite things to reminisce, running his fingers over your thighs while replaying those memories during boring social events. the scent of his expensive smoke, wafting around him in a saloon, has him drifting back to the sight of his hefty cock resting on your face - the length throbbing with every heartbeat, pearls of salty precum seeping into your soft skin and trailing in thin rivulets down the contours of cheekbone

he is a fan of sneaking a dab of his yves saint lauren perfume onto all of your formal wear, a little mark of him and something to keep you company whenever you're out at functions he's not attending

he drags you out to clubs just to dress you up and show you off under the bright, colourful flashing lights. you have his eye the entire time you're feeling yourself on the dance floor, tempting him your sensual movements from across the room - don't expect him to act on it immediately though, he's more than content to hold your gaze and sip his glass from the bar. if some sleaze dares to get handsy with you, he'll step in and guide you towards the bathroom as his fingers glide down to your lower back - he needs a bump to loosen up and not hurt every single chump eyeing you up. you're his plaything, after all.

if you spend a night at patrick's place, he'll secretly love taking showers with you - only because you help him rub in his cleansers and soaps into his skin, no other reason. certainly not that your devoted, admiring gaze make him flush and whisper his timid thanks under the steady stream of water, the noise lost in the pounding around your ears. ignore his building arousal, it'll stay there and grow even harder when he pleasures you with his tongue on the counter of his stainless-steel kitchen. you're the only one he'll kneel for, and you bet that there's a steamed-up outline of your ass on the countertop when he's done :3

despite his incessant need to fit in, he's never going to blend in while you remain by his side. you bring out that rare smile of his and that soft chuckle in public settings. you far outshine all the other, dull plus-ones at the dinner parties

you are patrick's trump card - everyone he knows either wants to be you or fuck you, they'll do anything to impress (especially if there's false hope of ending the night in bed with one or both of you)

if you're confident enough, you could be his personal little pornstar!! it makes you so giddy, the knowledge that he could show the snippets of the videos to his coworkers (who dream about getting you naked) and make them jealous of the fact that you've cum numerous times with patrick's name on your lips. the video is recorded on the best equipment of course - he can't have you on video while looking anything less than godlike on camera

he orders your favourite dishes at every restaurant, combs and brushes out your hair when you arrive at his apartment, then fucks you roughly while whispering how thankful he is for you. his babbling pleas for you to stay and praise of your existence echo in your mind for hours after, especially as he rests next to you with steady breathing

patrick leaves hickeys and bite marks all over you and while he might apologise while handing you anti-bruise supplements, know that his mind's eye is stuck on the sigh of your skin blossoming under his lips - specifically, the feeling of his teething nipping your skin and the small hum of satisfaction as he pulls away to inspect his work. if you've been good lately, he'll let you leave a hickey or mark on his chest - it's only fair after he leaves you bruised and aching in his arms the next morning :( if you've behaved to his liking, he'll share some of his japanese pear and kiwi for breakfast. you need some sugar to recoup anyway

if he's been snappy or pent up all day, he'll guilt you into taking him with minimal prep - he will snap and go feral if he's had to rein it in at work, plus the stretch feels heavenly around his thick cock

patrick had once ordered a prostitute for the two of you to experiment with - making sure they were a fair balance between your ideal types, bodywise. this plan went a little off script after the foreplay when you and patrick ended up exploring your exhibitionist sides, passionately kissing and languidly exploring each other's bodies while the hire slowly touched themselves at the sight. that precious hour or so was the easiest pay that person had ever made (you and patrick were far from unattractive), plus that champagne that you poured out was heavenly

patrick has you suck him off during skincare routines in the morning and evening, making sure to cum all down your throat. he insists it's good protein for you!! kneeling in front of the bathroom countertop has become second nature to you, the divine sight of your rugged lover above you routinely making you feel at ease

you had better be friends with his secretary jean because you'll see her a lot. if she gets jealous and her failed attempts at sleeping with him affect her capabilities, patrick will simply hire a different secretary. sure, he'll love to flaunt you and taunt them about how they aren't fucking either of you, but that's just part of his fun. he might use the empty threat of fucking you in front of the secretary as a way to keep you from acting out, but he's too possessive to have someone in a different tax bracket see you laid bare

get him spa day gift cards!! you can both spend time in private saunas or pools simply enjoying each other's presence and use the time to caress each other's bodies. use the opportunity to get a full body massage - when patrick has had a rough week, you're more than likely going to end up with a couple bruises and a few sore muscles

while he's never been the most domestic man, the image of you flitting back and forth in his pristine kitchen flicks a switch in patrick's brain. your earnest efforts of making him his breakfast bran muffins and churning his apple butter has him daydreaming of keeping you in his apartment like a pet - at his beck and call constantly, dusting his expensive furniture and preparing his meals whenever he comes home... not to mention how you'd willingly bend over or drop to your knees in a heartbeat if he so desired

if patrick is riding an adrenaline (or cocaine) high when he returns to you, be very careful and tread lightly. he may have an itch to clean his axe or handguns, polishing them until the late hours of the night. when he's in a jittery and frantic state, he isn't above having you spread out on his polished floor as something nice to look at while assembling the firearms, and he's certainly not against fucking you roughly while holding the gun to your head or body. he's even aroused by the though of you sucking off his uzi, spit-slicked metal knocking your teeth as your glistening eyes widen in fear

when you sleep next to him, he might jolt awake at night before realizing your shifting movements pose no threat to him, especially when you're locked into his arms with your soft breath brushing against his skin. when he gazes at you in these dimly lit moments, his mask slips until he feels a semblance of happiness - there's no discomfort, jealousy or boredom, he's content with you against him like this. after a long while of his breathing filling the dark room, his mind forces his walls back up and reverts him back to his usual self just as he drifts to sleep. no one can ever see him like that, see what your presence does to him... not even you

he has a penchant for fucking you infront of his toshiba 30-inch television, a porno tape or horror movie often playing. he loves the way screams - either of ecstasy or pain - fill his ears as you moan beneath him, the colours of the screen dancing on your skin. his cock always pulses just that little bit more whenever you bite his thumb and take his dick deep inside you as the film plays in the background. red is suck a sexual and raw colour after all, why not have the bright screen fill your vision as you cum on his cock? the vibrance drowns out all other stimuli, forcing you to focus on his presence in and around you

imagine the shock on evelyn's face when she shows up unannounced at patrick's place one late afternoon- he's swaying to heuy louis and the news, hands on your hips as you giggle and pour him a glass. his silk shirt loosely buttoned just covers your modesty as he soothingly rubs circles on your thigh, soft grin fading as his gaze frosts over at the sight of his betrothed. she sniffs, scandalized at the sight infront of her, and tells patrick to not bother contacting her - tim price's phone will be unplugged the moment she arrives at his place. to be honest, patrick could not care less. you're in his arms and he knows for a fact that evelyn will be over it soon - if not, there's a more suitable marriage candidate right in front of him. if you feel bad or guilty after evelyn leaves, patrick will do his best with his hands, thick cock, tongue and credit card to soothe your worries

expect patrick to leave desperate and vaguely threatening voice mail messages - his heavy, stuttered breaths echoing in your ears as the slick sounds in the background get you more and more worked up. the depraved ramblings deepen and get hoarser with each passing minute, so you'd better pray jean doesn't walk in - she isn't worthy of seeing him in such a disheveled and flushed state

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

luis is the most understanding of patrick's work bunch - he isn't shy to defend you and be seen in public as your friend, once you are comfortable telling him your secret of course. just make sure everyone knows you're not a part of that yale thing and you'll be fine

although he isn't keen on being open about his relationship with you - for fear of his colleagues and fellow acquaintances of wall street making derogatory comments towards him, or worse, you - majority of the men already have some closeted urge to spend the night with you, yearning to take bateman's place in your bed. let's face it, the cocaine, competition and firm handshakes can only do so much to hide the growing homoerotic tensions between the coworkers. your appeal is wider than you realise, as the compliments and lingering gazes at events would have most outsiders questioning if carruthers was the only gay man present in the social circle

in large social gatherings - such as big dinner parties or company events - patrick is able to hide his hand under the table and keep a poker face while unbuttoning your fly, untucking your shirt and slowly palming you for his own amusement. his bragging of designer clothing, company roles and mentions of a nice house he procured - for you to move into, of course - easily distract the other people on the table from what's happening in their vicinity

if his j&b on the rocks isn't hitting the spot or the cigars his colleagues are smoking feel heavy in his lungs, he'll drag you into the men's room - assuming there's no one in the other stalls, of course. his fly is halfway undone by the time your knees and expensive slacks hit the tiles, his hands mussing your slicked back hair. you'd better take his cock down your throat to the best of your abilities - you don't want an audience to witness you choking and spluttering on bateman's length, do you? of course not, they'll ostracize you in a heartbeat (or so patrick says), so you had better not complain or splutter when he pinches your nose shut and shoots hot ropes down your throat

whenever patrick fucks your ass, he ensures that his mark is left on your supple skin for days later - whether it be a handprint-shaped bruise, crescent nail marks or scratches along your thighs, he needs to have you remembering how well he fucks you. as you sit down, adjust your pants or even just accidentally back into something, patrick is suddenly at the forefront of your mind

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

patrick buys you the finest jewelry and nicest accessories that money can buy - the deal is that you give him handjobs with the sparkling rings on and kisses with the expensive lipstick, luxurious material framing your figure like a dream. he is especially a fan of you wearing jewels that match your eye colour or makeup - when he lifts your hand to press a polite kiss on your fingers, the glittering in your eyes matching his gifts makes his heart skip a beat

when you cockwarm him, his length is so hefty and makes you feel so stretched - the weight grounds you as you struggle to gain friction against your poor neglected clit. you always feel so full when you're perched on his lap, the girth enough to turn off your brain and make you drool. sometimes when patrick is feeling bold, he prepares your outfit for the day and ensures that you're wearing a cute little skirt for easy access :( he can be selfish sometimes, on the occasion that he solely thinks with his dick

patrick loves pushing your knees up to your chest as he fucks you deeply in missionary - the feeling of your swollen pussy lips brushing against his veiny base and your clit grinding against his pubic bone gets him more worked up than he'll ever admit

it's fairly normal to have patrick's hand drift towards your chest in the back of a taxi, his face buried in the crook of your neck. keep your noises quiet or the driver might be curious about what's happening in the backseat. his cold fingers harshly pinching and tugging at your nipples make you abruptly moan into the brisk air in the back of the car, patrick subtly palming himself to the tortured whines leaving your lips. if you make eye contact with the driver, mouth that you're sorry for patrick's behaviour and try to save your dignity by biting your lip to avoid any loud noises. if they make direct eye contact with patrick first, however, expect him to pull a smug grin and flash your breasts to the angled rear-view mirror. he might even hike up your skirts to show off your soaked, borderline see-through panties. sneak the poor driver a tip on your way out because he nearly caused an accident, losing all brain function as his blood immediately drained from his head and rushed to his cock :<

patrick buys you two little platinum charms with a necklace chain, his initials engraved on the back of the heart shaped pendant. the other little shape is an axe, the edge of the blade set with tiny red garnets!! he is main motivation for having you wear it constantly is the fact that it makes a small clinking noise as you bounce on his cock, breasts swaying and your glimmering skin making the necklace a truly beautiful sight to patrick

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his admiring hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(

if you're only just getting into wearing masculine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his man and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side

you're lucky his designer boxers are easy to clean! every time he catches sight of your muscles tensing, he's undoubtedly leaking into the material. when you're stretching and your shirt rides up, when you grab something from the top shelf or even when you crouch to tie your shoelace - his cock doesn't discriminate so you'd better expect a small, darkening patch. the musk at the end of the day has such a heady rush when you kneel in front of him, his sweaty underwear mere inches from your lips. patrick swears you give his dick a heartbeat whenever you make out with his bulge and especially when you sloppily give him head :3

bateman is a huge fan of quickies with you before meetings with your mutual colleagues - he's booked for lunch after, there's no other time in his schedule to empty his heavy, full balls into you :( his favourite way to spend those precious moments is with you bent over his polished desk, expensive pants crumpled at your ankles and your precum dripping onto the carpet. he is a massive fan of teasing you by pushing his cockhead into your slick boycunt and stroking his cock, edging his length until you're whimpering from the need to be filled. he mocks you for being needy and massages his balls when he finally fills your warm hole with thick, potent ropes of cum. he leaves you unsatisfied and leaking his load for the whole meeting :( splash your face with water and try not to squirm too much in your seat - patrick's classic shit-eating grin might give away the events that transpire mere moments before you both walked into the boardroom

mtf hcs

patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(

patrick keeps himself well put together and likes to treat you to manicures on shared days out. he'll ask his friend's girls for the best nail salon in the area and insists taking you. after he comes along to pick you up and pay after the set is finished, sometimes he'll immediately take your hands and hum his approval at the colour or design. other times, he'll give you his overcoat and hide your nails until you get in a private area, bathroom or the back of a car - the reveal of your new nails when you slowly stroke his cock, spit slicked hand glistening, makes his eyes roll back in pleasure. your heated gaze and slightly flushed face makes him grin, happy that you're willing to drool on his cock and flaunt his money proudly. the perfect girl, in his opinion :>

if you're only just getting into wearing feminine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his girl and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side

patrick's favourite evening activity is fucking you in a mating press - his cock filling you and hitting that deep spot inside you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he loves the sight of your girldick bouncing on your tummy and the shine of your dribbling arousal smearing on your skin. nothing beats a relaxed evening with your tight hole warming his throbbing length

_ _ _ _ _

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

[balesfx]

they're permanent and i'm not

patrick batman x fem!reader

smut ! , power exchange, degradation, knife play, cutting, some blood play, sadist!patrick (when is he not), dub-con

a/n : yay first fic here umm.. i haven't written in a while…cut me some slack

♫ : under your spell — snow strippers

"Be quiet."

Patrick's hand encased your mouth, pinching the skin of your lips up into your teeth as you strained a whine. Your jaw ached with surpressed retaliation and still his palm pressed tighter. The cool touch of the bedsheets beneath you kept you from overheating under Patrick's large frame, skin against skin causing a fire like presence between the friction of your bodies.

Your hands tugged at the fabric, a pathetic attempt at dragging away from him. Of course, the feeble action only made him tougher. Patrick's free hand grappled to your shoulder and yanked you back, ripping a muffled yelp from your throat.

"No, no…you can't leave. No, not yet…" His lips dipped down into the curve of your neck, his breath a tingling humid. The gentle kiss he pressed to your skin caused the nerves in your body to jump in unwarranted confusion. The tender gesture was a heavy contrast to the rest of his aggressive ministrations and your eyebrows furrowed.

The more you squirmed, the more evident the weight of his cock felt on your lower back. The erect member sent shocks down your spine everytime it brushed along your skin, your stomach fluttering each time Patrick released a hesitant and vunerable noise at the sensation. Miniature foreshadowings of your flesh wrapped around his dick caused it to twitch, flicking up against his abdomen and making him tense.

"Fuck—Fuck, stop moving." He heaved. And for some strange reason, you obliged, your body completely freezing. You swallowed dryly as you listened to him catch his breath, adjusting himself.

His hand finally relieved itself of it's grip on your mouth and you let out a choked breath, your head snapping back with a heavy breath.

"You really know how to treat a woman, don't you?" Your voice held a risky sarcasm, your head craning over your naked shoulder to see him crouched over the edge of his bed. Despite his…more than frustrating personality, you could never genuinely hate him. And when your gaze darted down between his muscular thighs, you certainly couldn't abandon that.

When he didn't respond to your quip, a quiet concern lingered in your chest. By now, he would've said several spat sentences, all of which incoherent and nearly inaudible but stabbing nonetheless. Your neck strained further as you propped yourself up on your elbows, seeing him finally lean back up.

"Patrick? What's taking—"

The impatient look from your face completely dispersed into a bewildered expression, the flush in your cheeks paling with caution. Patrick stared down at you, his eyelids heavy and irises dark as he crawled back up your legs. One hand slid up the back of your thigh and cupped your ass cheek, the other occupied with something far less softer.

His fingers tightened around the handle of a delicate knife, the blade reflected almost beautifully. Nothing too large, not a butcher knife, though obviously not a butter knife. You blinked back the blur in your sights to look back up at his face, speaking his name once more.

"Patrick?"

"Yes, dear."

Your heart skipped involuntarily once again. Your fingers fidgeted with the sheets in your now sweating palms, trying to decide whether or not to pull away again.

"…Why do you have that?" You asked carefully. He took a breath and leaned down, kissing along the back of your neck. Your head turned back over to hang off your tensed shoulders, your breath shuddering.

Patrick's teeth grazed down your spine, nipping vaguely at your skin with thin bites each chance he could get. With a quiet groan he swayed back up, his lip on your ear.

"Why not."

The cold and startling feeling of the knife's flat surface sliding across your back made you yip, your head shooting up. Patrick's free hand grabbed you by the hair and shoved your face into the mattress. He tipped the knife forward as to drag it's pointed end along your skin, poking downward into it though refraining from breaking through your epidermis.

As much as you wanted to throw him off and call him insane, playing with danger like this made you much wetter than you would have liked. Each time his knife would slide along you tail bone or spine, your cunt fluttered with a new found sense of want. Not to mention his bobbing cock lying dense between your legs. Christ, this was crazy.

"Your perfect…" Patrick sighed out, "Like a blank canvas."

You were about to respond with some plead or praise or whatever it may be before you were cut off by the sudden motion of the knife. It stood up from it's flattened position and you could now feel the narrow edge pressed down against your skin. The sudden switch sent a panicked jolt down your body, the excitement budding in your already flushed pussy.

"Patrick—" You hitched into the mattress, "Shit—Patrick, careful with that."

You could nearly hear him grin, a chuckle marinating in his chest.

"Relax. I know what I'm doing." He said.

His words alleviated very little of your worry, but you nodded anyway. The shift in vibe when his free hand traveled down between your thighs distracted you enough.

Patrick's thick fingers slid politely through your slick folds, rubbing up and around your entrance to tear a few whimpers from your throat. He dipped further and lapped his touch along your clit, agonizingly slow up and down movements causing you to tense.

"A-Ah, shit…" Your face buried into a nearby pillow.

Patrick's eyes shifted ever quickly up to your back again, lifting his wrist just a bit so the knife now hovered a hair above your back. Sunlight streaming through the slit of his curtains bounced off the blade and stung his eyes, the pure presence of the weapon enough to present even the slightest resemblance of vulnerability in his form. His hand twitched.

Patrick looked back down, his fingers curling up to rub his knuckle up through your folds, bumping up almost painfully over your clit with each motion. A weighing heat pooled down below your stomach and you moaned again, lifting your head to catch your breath.

"Stay down." Patrick demanded. Your head dropped again. He smiled at your obedience, his voice sultry. "Good girl."

Gingerly, he pressed one finger up into your hole, sliding it through the slickened tunnel and enjoying the way you tightened around him. "Easy."

His finger worked thoroughly along your walls, his knuckle once again pressing forward as his unoccupied digits circled your clit. You could feel yourself basically spilling around his touch, choking when he added a second finger. The two danced and scissored inside you and your heart fell like it was about to jump out your throat.

Patrick's cock was already leaking pre at this point, slickening the patch of your skin it lied on. The knife continuously twirled around in the air, his eyes locked down onto your smooth body. Such an untouched and delicate thing, he was like a moth to a flame. His drive for corruption spun like a storm in his mind, his weak restraint being the only consultant he had to keep him from driving the knife down into your back and out your chest.

Then again, the presence of restraint did not mean the promise. When his fingers twisted a secondary time and you let out yet another yelp, his head shot up almost bird-like and his hand jerked down instinctively. The blade dragged deliciously across your flesh, leaving an invisible trail behind it that only began to fill with blood once he lifted the weapon away.

"Patrick!" Your head immediately flipped over your shoulder to look down, your eyes wide and jaw fallen in disbelief. "What the fuck! Jesus christ, why would—"

"Fuck, don't talk." He groaned, staring down at the dribbles of blood that now rained down your side. They inked the bedsheets, seeping into it like paint and the thought of this fabric being stained in your blood made his dick pulse, his arms trembling. He pulled his fingers out your cunt without warning and you whimpered out a discomforted noise.

"I told you to be careful, I can't…"

"Don't. Talk."

Your lips shut tight. Patrick crawled downward, setting the knife next to your thigh so he could grip your skin with both hands. He leaned down and exhaled a trembling breath into your new wound. You winced, ogling downward.

His eyelids fluttered in doubt before his head crouched and he licked a long stripe up from one edge to the other, collecting the crimson liquid on his tongue. He savored the iron taste and shuddering as he swallowed.

You couldn't even say anything. What were you supposed to say? 'Hey, thanks, but I think they make wipes for that!'

Your lips parted to speak but all you could do was whimper. Patrick blinked back up, his eyes foggy and dazed in this strange bloodlust.

"Head down." He growled. Your ear pressed back into the pillow, your entire body on edge.

Patrick grabbed the knife again and crawled back up, this time positioning himself between your legs and bending them up aside his hips uncomfortably. The stretch of your cut made your eyes water and you sniffled against the fabric that muffled your mouth.

"I like you better like this. When you're not rambling my ear off." Patrick noted, his free hand moving down to give his cock a few languid strokes, his head tipping back with a low groan before he scooted up. "Makes my life much more efficient."

Your stomach sank in a slight shame. Though the emotion didn't last long when you finally felt the gentle resistance of his tip aligning at your entrance. He bit his tongue, his hips softly pushing forward.

"Yeah…mm, you're so good for me." Patrick moaned under his breath, slowly thrusting forward. His indolent fingering was certainly not enough prep, but trying to convince him otherwise would be more of an inconvenience than everything was right now. So you stayed silent.

He sucked an inhale through his teeth, his fist setting the knife back down onto your back, "So tight…"

You were convinced your nails would tear the sheets at how tightly you were gripping them, the moan suppressed in your throat making you all the more stiff.

Patrick thrust again, this time sliding the knife in rhythm with his movements, cutting you once again. You mewled into your pillow, that stinging sensation rippling through your skin as you felt that blood dripping just as before. Patrick slid his fingers through the puddle, catching as much as he could on the digits before pulling them up to his mouth and sucking on them, drinking down your taste with a hunger like none other.

Each roll of his hips that went by, a new cut was slashed into your back, some horizontal, some verticle, all bled the same. You could feel yourself growing lightheaded the quicker he pounded into your pussy, his free hand gripping and slapping your ass any chance he got.

"F-Fuck, look at you…" He grunted, "Goddamn corpse."

The way he seemed to get harder at that statement made a freezing emotion spill down your spine, unsure of how to take it. He slammed forward again, his tip nudging at your womb and making you cry out.

"Ah—Patrick, please…!"

You didn't know what you were pleading for. For him to stop cutting you or for him to fuck you softer, neither of you could tell. Either way, he wouldn't have listened.

He released a crippling moan, his waist snapping down repeatedly as his attacks grew less coordinated and all he could do was leave little, prickling snips along your flesh, his pleasure getting the best of him and soon he dropped the knife completely. Patrick grabbed your hips near bruisingly and shoved you closer, trying to pound as deep as he could into your cunt just to hear you scream.

"You're fucking pathetic. Letting me cut you up like that." He panted. Your voice wobbled as you spoke, your pussy clenching as a creamy ring formed around his shaft.

"I-It's what you wanted…" You answered weakly.

Patrick hummed, his palm rubbing along your back again to listen to you cringe at the pain. His thrusts became erratic and those heaving breaths struggled back out his lips. The few tight whines that escaped him was what made any night with him worth it. Your clit twitched as the noise replayed over in your head like a skipping record.

"Hah—G-God, I'm gonna cum…" He trembled, his forehead dropping down against your neck. Your eyes rolled back into your head when your own orgasm hit you like a freight train, one hand reaching aimlessly for him and the other tugging at the pillow. Your walls clenched around him and Patrick almost yelled, his nails digging into your skin.

"Yeah–Yeah, fuck…!" Patrick's eyes squeezed shut and he gave a final thrust of the hips, pinning you completely down as he shot heavy ropes of cum deep inside you, completely painting your innards.

The both of you collapsed in exhausted heaps. Tears still built up in your eyes as he deliberately lay on your wounds, enjoying the way you squirmed in pain.

After a few short moments, he finally lifted up, pulling out of you with a sharp noise. His thumb stretched up your cunt to watch his seed laggardly drip out onto the bed, your hole contracting as everything tried to cool down.

"Incredible." He whispered.

ext : it's 2:30am as of finishing this, this hasn't been proof read and i am half asleep so good night love you

[whereireid]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐘 — masterlist

pairing: patrick bateman x fem!reader

Summary: Patrick gives up control for one night. It doesn’t exactly go the way that you want it to.

— warnings: nsfw content, sub!patrick but he still has psychological control ofc, blowjobs, teasing, restraints, choking

"Are you trying to get me to beg?" Patrick asks, his brows knitting together as he watches your naked frame kneel before him, an uncomfortable throb shooting to the tent in his briefs as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. "Because if that's what you're doing, then I can assure you that I'm not going to plead to get you to touch me."

A soft coo slips past your lips as you stroke your fingers up Patrick's thigh, the muscle tensing involuntarily as your digits teasingly edge closer to the place where he wants you to touch him the most. You can tell that he's frustrated by the ticking of his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils, and you shoot him a loving smile as he glares down at you.

"You know how much I want you to beg," you murmur, your eyes glinting with mischief as you cup Patrick's hard cock through his briefs, a low groan drawing from the depth of his throat as you do so. "Please, Patrick? I want to hear how badly you want me."

"I'm not going to beg you to touch me.” His voice is emotionless, yet his throat grows dry when he watches your tongue comes out again, this time not to wet your lips but to lick at the outline of his cock through his briefs. "I'll get what I want eventually.” He tenses as you leave a wet stripe up his briefs, before he mockingly adds, “honey.”

You pout, your fingers careful as they slip under the band of his briefs, tugging at the Italian-made cotton softly. "At least pretend like I'm the one in control here," you huff, your hand curling around his cock, your lips quirking upwards as his pink tip leaks with precum. "Humour me a little, Patrick. Beg. Please?”

Patrick tries to ignore how comedic this situation actually is. He's the one tied up right now — his wrists are bound together with rope and he's tethered to the headboard, but somehow, he has all of the control. You're literally begging him to plead with you. If he was in your position and you were denying him of such sweetness, he'd bring out one of his knives and then you'd start blubbering and pleading like it's nobody's business.

He decides to humour you.

"Please suck my cock, honey. I need it so bad. I need it more than anything," he says flatly, the tip of his cock twitching against your cupid's bow as you beam up at him, "you have no idea what you do to me."

Surprisingly, it doesn't work.

"Don't mock me, Patrick. You're a little bit frustrated. I can see how tense you are." A low groan draws from his throat as you lick a delicate stripe up his length, careful to trace along his veins, your tongue sweetly swirling around his swollen head when you reach his tip. "If you don't comply with my orders, you're not getting what you want."

"Just put it in your mouth."

"I'll put it in my mouth when you ask me properly."

There it is — the tick in his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, the intense, downcast gaze. You're pushing his boundaries, and you grin as he huffs, your lips carefully pressing gentle kisses against his length.

Your movements are incredibly gentle as you cup his balls in the palm of your hand, your tongue flicking out to toy with the needy head of his cock. His eyes crinkle shut and his nose scrunches as you lick a slow, deliberate stripe from the head of his cock down to his balls, your tongue flattening against his length as you bring your skilful muscle back up to his tip.

It's torture. Delicious torture. His nostrils flare when you pull away, a lewd string of spit trailing from his cock to your lips. You look up at him through lidded eyes, and your heart races in your chest as you see how black and blown his pupils are, his hazel irises sheathed from the dilation of his lust.

Pride resides in the depth of Patrick's chest. He didn't think you actual had it in you to tease him, but as you pepper sultry kisses to his cock, he realises that he's actually beginning to lose patience. His hips thrust against your face involuntarily, and an embarrassing whine catches in his throat as you tease him.

"I won't ask again," he says, and there's an edge to his tone that has your heart wrenching and fear prickling at your skin, "put it in your mouth. Please."

You smile.

It's the closest you're ever going to get to Patrick pleading with you. This small act of submission is enough — his bound wrists were his idea, not yours, meaning he was still in control even when he was complying with your demands to be domineering for once.

"Only because you asked so nicely," you tease, flinching under his warning gaze, your lips wrapping around the head of his cock carefully.

Your mouth is so warm and so wet, and Patrick's jaw clenches so hard that he wonders how he hasn't broken a tooth in the process. You feel so good as you roll your head up and down his cock lazily, your tongue trailing around his length as you force your head down, your nose pressing against his crotch as you take every inch of his cock inside of your mouth.

You gag. It's like heaven — the constriction of your throat tightens the grip your mouth has on his cock, and the warm, familiar feeling of arousal pools in your belly as Patrick hisses from above you, the muscles of his thighs flexing underneath your touch. There's something so intimate about how he's giving himself to you, how he's allowing you to have control, and you flush under his heavy gaze as you choke around his length, still not quite used to the uncomfortable girth of his cock.

"I'm glad that I made you bind me to the bed with these ropes," Patrick breathes from above you, his eyes starry as your tongue flicks over his tip, rolling over his slit carefully. "I want to hurt you so badly. If I wasn't restrained I think I'd ruin you completely."

The twitching head of his cock is a good enough signal that he's close. He grunts from above you, and it feels like he's been punched as his eyes lock onto yours, your mouth set upwards into a smile, your mouth glistening with salvia and precum.

Patrick's eyelids flutter shut, and you giggle as he groans again — usually he's not so vocal — using his moans as means of encouragement, forcing your head down, taking in all of his length, until you can no longer breathe breathe.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your lungs are burning by the time that he cums. You struggle against him, squeezing your eyes shut, taking in every inch of him, your tongue lewdly lapping at his balls in an attempt to shock him through his orgasm.

And it works. Patrick is so tense that you can feel every single indentation of muscle, and your fingers dart over his chiselled abs, your cunt pulsing with need as he spews incoherent insults from above you.

By the time your breathing has steadied and you've finished swallowing, Patrick is no longer tense. He's no longer twitching, but his cock is still hard and heavy, a small bead of cum dribbling down his length as he gazes at you such fire you feel like you're being set alight.

"Untie me," he says, his voice dripping with authority and warning, “now."

"Yes, Patrick." You scramble towards him, quick to loosen the knots in the rope, your heart thrashing wildly in your chest.

You realise that the only reason you were in control then is because Patrick let you be. Once the knots are untied, his hands scatter towards your throat, and your eyes are wide and frantic as he presses down on your trachea, cutting off your air supply, making you feel dumb and incredibly horny.

His eyes blaze wildly as he gazes down at you, and he smirks, his pearly white teeth glistening in the florescent lights of his bedrooms as he promises, "you're in for a long night, honey."

[hneedlz]

THE WAY PATRICK BATEMAN WOULD...

A Patrick bateman smutty headcannon list

Warnings; American psycho but he's rlly hot. Dub con. He's mean.

Enjoy!

Patrick bateman would be the kind to force you to video tape yourself masturbating with one of the toys he gifted you, he makes a tape of it just so he could watch it for later.

He's the kind to hate fuck you after you both get into a argument.

Loves to pull hair, bite, smack, and spit. He doesn't care for aftercare. He makes you clean yourself up while he looks at himself on the mirror

Patrick likes to take advantage of you everywhere and anywhere.

He loves to degrade you and humiliate you in bed.

Patrick buys you expensive lingerie just for him to cut it up and make u feel bad!

He likes to guilt trip and manipulate you into having sex with him. He proudly talks about how you are in bed with his co workers

He tries his best to make you cry everytime

Loves to bring a weapon with him to a hook up.

Patrick likes whenever you scream and moan out his name whenever he's fucking into you.

[ghostfacesvalentine]

HALLOWEEN DAY 23: Catty girl - Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

Warning: Make out session, both muses drinking/being drunk, spitting, squirting, thoughts of being used, hair pulling, fingering. Mmmm idk Patrick is a walking warning. NSFW

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word count: N/A

Prompt: Halloween after party makeout session wirh Patrick Bateman NSFW

Notes: Yeah shut up I know Patrick isn’t supposed to feel “love” maybe more lust, etc but shut up

Your sight was already woozy, you were still conscious and able, but your vision was a little blurry and you couldn’t stop laughing at anything and everything.

It was hard to make your appearance at after parties like this, but you focused on the alcohol. You had that warm buzz in your stomach, making small meaningless talk with the crowds around you.

Of course this never stopped the upper class men from one upping eachother with anything and everything.

You felt eyes on you from all angles, you had a bodysuit exposing your legs and over the knee boots. Your throat burned at the sight of Patrick’s eyes being one of the pairs burning right through you.

Both of you hooked up every other week, but never made it official. You always opted to stay away from Patrick and his social circle, too ashamed to be his secret. Whether it was the drugs or the alcohol or both, Patrick seemed to grow less and less shameless about eating you alive with his eyes.

Before you knew it, you were in the bathroom with Patrick’s hands running down the sides of your face, down to your sides.

You were still woozy and the sight of his hunger only made you feel more weak by the minute. His heel hit the bathroom door, hearing a lock, he was leading you back against the sink. His grip on your face only got tighter as he felt your knees loosen and your hands grab onto his arms. Your eyebrows knit together, opening your mouth to let his tongue slide across your bottom lip. Tiny muffled moans and whines escaped your mouth, his hands dug into your scalp, getting a good grip of your roots and pulling you towards him. Your height difference was not unnoticed, your head tilted back completely as he towered over you.

Your knee raised to wrap around his waist loosely, when he felt it, his right hand dropped down to hook your leg around his waist. You were out of breath, intoxicated and coated in Patrick’s spit, the thought just made you soaked. Your eyes fluttered open, looking to Patrick in a pleading manner. It didn’t take long for him to sit you on the counter, half of your body sunken into the sink because of the size of the counter.

You knew that look, when he looked at you with black eyes, scanning your body and what he wanted from you. His fingertips raised to outline the flimsy cat ears of your costume, then down to the outline of your face again. You bit down to your bottom lip, finding it hard to breathe without knowing what he wanted. He was never really vocal about it, it really was just about what he felt like doing tonight. If you were being honest you were surprised that you were in this position in this very location. Either way, you didn’t think you could wait either to get home.

He had blood spatter all over his suit, ironically dressing as a killer for this party. His red hand trickled over to the zipper behind your neck, swiping it down to expose your body. Head dipping down to kiss your neck, whatever was exposed around the choker you had on.

Not in a lovingly manner, never in a lovingly manner but in a way to make your heart race. His lips pressed against your neck again, then again and finally into a nip. You whimpered, shimming out of the suit and letting it drop down to your ankles. His bites got hungrier, soothing the pain with a few swipes of his tongue while simultaneously pulling your sheer tights down with your underwear until you were sitting before him in a simple bra. His cold hands set on the sides of your waist while he left hickies all over your neck with no shame or thought as to how you were going to hide them.

Patrick’s hands then trailed back up to your hair, pulling it to expose your face to him. You had no way to hide from him, not really anyway. Even as you tried to look to the side after trying to come back down from you lustful high, his hand pinched your chin to look at him, squeezing your lips and forcing them to stay still as he dipped down to kiss you more aggressively. Again your body went limp, the only thing holding you up was his grip. He pulled his face away for only a second, looking to your lips as he pried them to stay open, suddenly a warm wet ball of spit landed in your mouth. You were shamefully rubbing your knees together in hopes of soothing the arousal you had between your legs. He pushed your head back again, this time spitting on your lips, then swiping his tongue across the bottom of your lip as you looked at him more helpless by the second.

His thumb invaded the inner side of your cheek, pushing your cheek to have a bulge. You hated when he just stared at you, even in your drunken state you knew that the more pathetic you looked, the more he was all over you. He pulled your face by his hand, thumb still soaking in your mouth, the whimper you let out almost made him smile.

The disgusting position between you both left you with your hair tousled, headband hanging crooked over your head and your chest heaving.

You groaned when you felt two fingers plunge into your folds, your black nails gripping onto his suit jacket. You closed your eyes as his pace strengthened, almost manhandling you. The same black eyes looking to you like he wanted to spit in your face again. He trusted you would’ve been wet enough for him to pump his fingers in and out of you and he was never wrong.

His fingers then pulled away to rub your arousal against the sensitive nub that always left you wanting for more. Your mascara ran down your cheeks, drunk, mortifyingly in love with Patrick Bateman almost to the point entirely that he could use you whatever way he wanted. He knew that, which is why he always came back to you. You never gave it thought that he could be doing the same to other women, the thought alone made your stomach turn.

The cloud then faded away when his fingers plunged back into you, building up a pace at first then almost jolting you around by his fingers. Of course the feeling was stupefying but the idea that he wanted to do whatever he wanted for you was what sent you into an orgasm.

His fingers pinched your lips together again, forcing you to look at him as you felt your walls tighten. Your hands gripped onto him for dear life, the labyrinth forming on your forehead due to your pleasure only made him plunge his fingers in and out of you faster. You were overstimulated, being sent into a clear orgasm. Your body twitched as you squirted onto his sleeve and hand. Patrick’s expression never softened, neither did his touch, this time his lips directly over yours, his saliva forming together again and spitting into the forced opening of your mouth as your body had pleasure overwhelming you in ripples.

The waves made you squirm in your seat, causing the headband of yours to fall in front of your face, still holding onto by your ears. “We’re going back to my place.” He whispered into the side of your face, his hand still lazily rubbing against your core, then pulling away amused at your whimper when you lost his touch.

If he kept it up, he could fuck you in the living room in front of his elite friend group for all you cared. You just wanted him.

Which was why he wrapped you in his suit jacket, sheer tights in the trash, body suit lazily half zipped, mascara still stained onto your cheeks and lipstick smeared off, smudged into a mixture of eyeliner and mascara. You were more drunk in lust to make your way into his car, keeping your head down to avoid anyone getting a good look at you. However it couldn’t be more obvious that you were Patrick’s only and most favorite toy.

[ransprang]

Christian Bale (OOC) x Fem!Reader

Y/N and Christian Bale had recently gotten married, and her parents hated that. Christian and Y/N had been super clingy, and, to be honest, they felt he was a bit controlling. He would often ask her to do something, and Y/N would simply comply. Christian and she slept while hugging each other with their noses touching, and it turned out she couldn't sleep without him at all. To the extent that Y/N's parents noticed, the two would get upset even when leaving each other alone for a few hours. Her parents weren't sure, but maybe the main problem was that they were scared he would hurt her.

Recently they all had been invited to a party and y/n was super excited to go. Christian went out to buy her a sexy yet elegant dress of his choice that would make his beautiful wife glow. He gifted her the dress and y/n's eyes sparkled. She tipped toed up to kiss him and Christian wrapped his arms around her, as she melted into them. He deepened the kiss and groaned into her mouth as y/n pushed her chest against him. Christian looked at the clock and decided they both could be late...by alot. He pushed her onto the bed and got on top, he always loved being on top and restraining his little girl. Y/n moaned and tried to push against him but his sheer power turned her on. Y/n wrapped her legs around Christian's waist as he unzipped his pants and letting his thick pink cock free. He rubbed the tip before he slid it into y/n entrance. He began thrusting and as he caught speed he put his veiny hand over y/n neck and said "Say my name", but y/n moaned. He tightened his grip at her defiance, gritted his teeth as he pounded harder "say my name.", y/n looked at him "Christ...Christian". He loosened his grip and caressed her hair as he softened his thrusts "good girl, I like it when you listen to me". Y/n smiles back at him and closes her eyes in pleasure as she could feel his dick inside her as her husbands big arms held her down into place. As Christian neared climax he grunted and laid on top of y/n softly sliding in and out as they both laid chest to chest while he kissed his wife while releasing his warm cum inside of her. Y/n's parents happened to be invited too, as they waited out in the hall for their son in law and daughter to come with them they grew more and more agitated. They were already 30 minutes late, how could Christian be this irresponsible. Suddenly the room's door opened and both of them walked out, y/n was a bit nervous. Christian looks at her and said "head up high for me.." as y/n nodded and walked towards the front gate with pride. The drive was long and quiet as Christian sat with her in the back seat and caressed her hair, she was prettier to him than the view. She was his everything.

The party was lavish with many people, y/n separated from her husband to speak to other people. A while later a smaller group of people formed and a beautiful blonde woman with blue eyes, with the body of Pamela Anderson stood across and remarked "Chris, wanna have sex?", Christian looked visibly confused as y/n ears perked up. "I mean come on you're hot I am hot, lets do it. No one here will tell your silly little wife, I bet she's ugly". Everyone quickly realized that she did not know y/n was his wife and standing right next to her. Y/n's eyes were welling up but she held it together, Christian was visibly enraged with his hands in a fist. "Keep your filthy mouth shut." He said through his teeth, she looked a bit scared but nonchalant "oh please don't get worked up about this you know if you were unmarried you would've done me in seconds". When it came to y/n Christian knew no ethics he lunged forward to hit that woman, as a few of their mutual friends held him back in urgency. Y/n sprinted towards him and held his face "Christian look at me, you're not like this. you're better than this. Lets go". he calmed down at the sight of y/n and let it go instantly.

Christian held her hand tightly and stormed off towards the car holding onto the keys y/n's parents had passed to him. As they walked towards the door, her parents gave him a nasty look which said 'I knew you'd hurt our daughter one way or the other'. Christian disregarded it and as they reached the car opened the door to the back seat and rather aggressively pushed y/n in. He sat next to her and closed the door as he held her by the back of her head and kissed her passionately. He deepened it while pulling her closer and getting on top of her. "y/n let me make love to you", y/n hugged him tightly digging her nails into his back. "I love you Christian" as he made love to her and then calmly waited for her parents to say their goodbyes and drive them back home. She was his and he was hers and no one was to come in between them. Your Batman,

Admin Sav

[makeyoumine69]

Daddy Knows Best (Full version)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

CONTAINS: SMUT, seduction, dry humping, hand jobs, oral sex (both receiving), masturbation, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, loss of innocence, praise kink, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, pet names, dirty talk, hair pulling, spanking, slight choking.

A/N: I'm gradually trying to catch up on finishing my WIPs! I decided to rewrite this one a bit and collect all the drabbles in one piece. I hope you like it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓

God, imagine that one day Patrick would take you to his place, and since you were a virgin, he would seduce you very carefully. Once in his apartment, he would gently take off your coat and lead you into his living room, where he would let you choose the music, and as you flipped through his CD collection, he would admire your beauty, and then he would start stroking your hair and caressing your cheek, before finally crashing his lips against yours in a lustful kiss. You would moan into his mouth, and he would lift you up in his arms and move to the couch, sit on it and make you mount him so he could grab your ass and pull up your skirt. Trembling visibly, you would whimper from the way your soaked pussy rubbed against the big bulge in his pants and your tentative, sexy sounds would only spur Bateman to pull you closer to make the friction even more intense.

"Mhmm...Patrick...you're so…" You would hiccup as he bounced you on his lap. "Is that… is that because of me?"

Your shy question would make him chuckle softly into your ear, tickling the delicate skin around it. "Yes, little one," his raspy voice would make you squirm in his arms, the heat between your legs driving him crazy. "You're making Daddy so hard," he'd gently take your hand and place it right on his aching groin. "Wanna check?"

Speechless, you just nodded, unable to even mumble a sound, and this sight of your numbness only fueled his desire to corrupt you here and now, though he might admit that this time he actually wanted to take it slowly.

"Uh, such a curious kitten," he murmured as he casually unbuckled his belt. "So eager to discover new things Daddy can give you?"

Gasping, you hid your heated face in your hands for a brief moment as the sexual tension between the two of you was too overwhelming—it threatened to wash over you like a tsunami, but you were ready to embrace it.

"Yes," just one word was enough to make him growl in a hoarse voice as he finally released his hard length. "But I've never done anything like this before...I've never..." you literally forgot how to breathe as you looked down between his wide-open legs. "I..."

Damn, he was so big. Just looking at him sent shivers down your spine and caused your inner muscles to clench in phantom pain.

Bateman couldn't help but laughed heartily as he found your shock quite amusing. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked, pulling you closer as he rhythmically pumped his throbbing dick.

"You're so big, Daddy," you admitted nervously, turning away to avoid looking down. "W-why are you so big?"

Grinning arrogantly, Patrick took your chin and forced you to face him. "Well, I guess I won the genetic lottery, honey." With that, he swiftly grabbed your hand to replace his own, sliding it up and down his hot flesh. "Fuck," he moaned softly, tilting his head back. "You have such small but cute hands...mmhhm...they feel so good on my dick. Keep going," he whispered in your ear, squeezing your waist to keep you close. "Yes...just like that... you're doing so good...f-fuck!"

His breath hitched at every amateur stroke you made, and soon you could feel a few drops of his warm pre-cum running down his red, swollen tip—this image made you lick your lips in a rush of hunger you had never experienced before.

"Do you want me to... taste you?" You pureed against his flushed cheek, eliciting an amused chuckle from his solid chest.

"No need to ask, kitten," he gently placed his palm on the back of your neck as a sign of agreement. "But I won't lie... your naivety really turns me on."

With that, Bateman kissed you hard on the lips before leading you down to his throbbing dick, encouraging you to take it into your warm mouth, and as you wrapped your soft lips around his leaking tip, Patrick couldn't help but moan loudly, throwing his head back.

"Fuck," he grabbed a handful of your soft hair and set the pace of your bobbing movements. "Your mouth feels so good, baby."

You just mewled around his hot flesh, trying to concentrate on breathing through your nose so as not to choke on his huge shaft and not to think about how much it would hurt if you decided to go further in this dangerous game of unbridled lust.

"Use your pretty hands too," he commented all of the sudden before sprawling on the couch to give you more room. "It will help."

Embarrassed as hell, you encircled the base of his thick cock with your both hands without ceasing to suck on his drooling tip. Each low growl he made was setting you on fire, making you dripping so badly.

"Mmhm," you whimpered when Bateman pushed you down, thrusting deeper into your mouth, but the next moment he gently pulled on your hair to force you to look at him. "I did something wrong, Daddy?"

Patrick sneered ever so hauntingly, tracing his thumb along your glistening lips to smear his pre-cum along them. "No, little one," he pulled you into a ravenous kiss, your tongues sliding along each other, and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. "You did it so fucking well, that’s why I stopped you," Bateman crooned and shifted your position, so now you were beneath him on the couch. "Because I'm not finished with you yet."

Without breaking eye contact, Patrick slowly drew his thin finger along your taut lower lips, coaxing a muffled gasp to break out from your quickly raising chest. Then, he pulled on the lace of your damp panties as he watched your reaction and when you didn’t protest, he tugged them down in one quick motion.

"Such an obedient girl," he hummed to himself, stroking his arching length with his free hand. “Now, listen to me very carefully,” he petted your legs and opened them wider, so he could set himself between them. "I need you to do exactly what I say. Got it?"

Bateman didn't bother to wait for your answer, he easily shifted your position so that your face was now pressed against the armrest of his spacious white couch and your pretty ass was up in the air.

"A-ah!" You whimpered pretty loudly as he glided his long fingers over your oozing folds—the slick sound driving you crazy. "Pat-Patrick-mhmm!" 

Clinging to the edge of the couch, you trembled more intensely with each inch Bateman moved closer to your innocent, tight hole, and when you felt his index finger poking at your wet opening, you had to bite your lower lip from an odd sensation that was both painful and exciting.

With a dark smirk, the man descended to your exposed pussy to give it a few licks before he slid two fingers inside of you at once, eliciting a shaky moan from your bruised throat. "Uh...you have such a little tight pussy," Patrick remarked, paying no attention to the way you were writhing on the couch, quivering and whimpering some unrecognizable nonsense. "Daddy's gonna make you feel so good...mmhm...so fucking good."

Frowning from the tearing sensation in your lower abdomen, you wanted to ask him to stop, but instead you just clutched the soft material beneath you, doing your best not to start crying. "Keep talking to me...please," your voice wavered from your heavy breathing, several drops of sweat running down your temples. "Daddy...a-awww!"

A loud, obscene sound of him slapping your ass bounced off the walls of his apartment, forcing all your nerve endings to ignite from hypersensitivity. 

"You seem to forget who is in charge here," Bateman scolded, pulling at your hair and lifting your head so he could see your frightened, doe eyes. "Your innocent hole can't even imagine how full I'm gonna make it."

All the while, Patrick was pumping his throbbing cock to keep himself hard, only to suddenly thrust into your moist entrance, forcing all your insides to cramp into a knot.

"A-aghhh, Patrick!" You cried out, but then your opened mouth froze in a silent scream as his fat tip pushed through the tight obstacle, causing you so much pain, but Bateman didn't care. "It hurts...ahhh... it hurts so bad...mmm," a hard slap on your hip silenced you for a while, but he didn't stop ramming into you with renewed force. "So big...so b-b-big...I can't...I can't take it!"

"Shhh," his harsh shushing only made you more anxious than relaxed as the man's grip on your hair tightened until they were almost wrapped around his big fist. "You can take it…your needy cunt clinging so hard to my dick," as soon as he uttered that, Patrick put his one leg on the couch and grabbed your shoulder for leverage to finally bottom you out competently, even though his dick was still not fully inside you. "Yeah...just like that...uh-fuck..."

Throwing his head back, Bateman slammed his firm hips into yours, the curve of his dick stretching your virgin inner channel in a sickening way, making you see stars and literally bite the armrest of that fucking white couch.

"O-ohhh, my goodness," you stuttered as the man changed your position again, forcing you to get on your knees and bend over the back of the couch, his veiny cock popping out of your sore slit, giving you a short break before Patrick filled you again, this time holding you tightly and not allowing you to stray. "Slow down! Please...mhmm-slow down-"

But Bateman was relentless and ferocious when he finally had you in his hands, and he was not going to let you go, not when your inner, velvety walls were so perfectly encasing his dick. Besides, the very idea of breeding you, claiming you in such a primal way, made him throb inside you, his fingers digging into your skin where bruisers would surely bloom after he would be done with you.

"You know," Patrick stopped abruptly, pulling out only to slap your glistening pussy. "I remember...you said you wanted to belong to one man...forever and ever...didn't you?"

Breathing heavily, you closed your eyes for a second, trying to pull yourself together as the mixture of different, foreign sensations was tearing you apart as much as Patrick's girth.

"Yes..." you replied curtly, propping yourself up on your elbows. "I did."

With a mischievous grin, the man gave himself a few quick strokes before leaning down again and lapping at your dripping slit, savoring your taste like his favorite meal. Your shaky breathing and constant trembling was what he craved most from this encounter; he knew you were already his, but he wanted to push your limits even further.

"You said that just for fun or..." he murmured between licking and sucking your swollen folds. "Did you really mean it?"

The man emphasized his question with a feverish flicker around your clit, but then he plunged his wet tongue into you, holding your hips so firmly that you couldn't move away even an inch. All of this was already too much for you, but his question was the last drop for you to fall apart and lose your mind.

"I meant t-that," you blurted out almost breathlessly, not really realizing what you were saying. "I...really did!

"Very well then," Bateman growled, stepping back to lift you off the couch. "Because this...is what I'm about to do," he held you tightly in his arms as he walked to his bedroom and when you reached the door Patrick stopped and set you down. "I'm gonna make you mine...like you always wanted in your pink dreams."

In one deft motion, the man turned you around and pressed your face against the doorjamb, not really showing affection, but not being too rough either. Struck by a strange fatigue, you grabbed the wooden doorjamb with your weak hands and sensed his warm body pressing against you from behind again, covering you like a blanket. You were completely bewildered, lost in the whirlpool of emotions mixed with shameful depravity, and that's why you probably didn't really understand the gravity of the situation and what was about to happen and what was hidden behind Bateman's words.

This time Patrick slipped into you like clockwork, feeling no resistance at all, and that induced him to sink even deeper until you squirmed in his arms, trying to find something to hold on to, but your hands were unable to grasp the doorjamb because its material was too smooth. Growling thickly, the man slammed into you with ferocious hunger, admiring the arch of your back, how your ass cheeks jiggled with each thrust. 

"I wish you could see what I see," Bateman grunted through his clenched teeth, sweat buds running down his tense forehead, his eyebrows knitted together as he concentrated on penetrating you in steady but wickedly deep strokes. "You look so fucking hot like that...one day I'm going to film us having sex...I swear."

You moaned in response as he forced you to bend over even more so he could look down at your face as he fucked you silly. "Daddy...I'm burning...f-from the inside...it's so deep..."

Patrick chuckled at your miserable attempts to claw at his hands as he suddenly planted an almost affectionate kiss on the top of your head—this little gesture made you stall and open your eyes wide—and pressed you even closer, wrapping both his hands around your throat and squeezing it a bit.

"You belong to me now," he whispered in your ear, desperately snuggling into your small form, making your hard peaks rub against the wooden doorjamb. "...and I will pump you with my seed...until you get pregnant," the man nibbled on your earlobe and tugged at your messy hair. "I'll do it again and again..."

Your face inflamed from the inside, you thought your skin would burn from the heat your bodies radiated, and as soon as you felt his pounding become more erratic and ragged, you knew he was close. With one hand still on your throat, Bateman used his free hand to cup and squeeze your full breast as he chased his release, feeling the tingling that formed at the base of his dick and spread throughout his muscular body. Yet, in the back of his mind, he wished he could last longer to make you fucking faint, but even for a man like him with such a crazy sex drive, that was too much. Closing his eyes, Patrick drove his hips forward against yours for the last time, rolling them slightly to bury himself as deep as he could, painting your inner walls white and he couldn't help but moan when he was finally spent, filling you to the brim just as he had promised.

"Good girl," he huffed, nuzzling against your craned neck. "You've got a lot to learn... but I'll make sure you do your best to please me."

With that, the man cradled you in his strong arms, and for the first time in his life, he felt complete, having finally found a woman he wanted to claim as his own. And damn those who would dare to argue with it.

[Daddy Knows Best 2.0]

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[fear-is-truth]

imagine… patrick bateman proposing to you

the second time patrick mentions marriage, it’s in his bedroom, two weeks after the first. by then, you’ve convinced yourself the cab conversation was just another one of his fleeting, performative remarks. patrick says things like that sometimes, things that feel weighty but are really just filler.

“i’m taking time off work,” patrick announces abruptly, breaking the comfortable silence. you turn your face lazily toward him, head still nestled into the crook of his arm.

“what? why?”

he shifts beside you, pulling his arm away to lean forward, elbows digging into his knees. the sheets rustle as he moves, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer, hands clasping together tightly. “it’ll look good. show that i’m… focused on my personal life. priorities,” he adds thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the far wall.

you almost laugh at the irony of patrick bateman, the golden boy of pierce & pierce, worrying about appearances at a firm that’s essentially his inheritance.

“would you marry me?”

the question lands like a foreign object in the room, disjointed and out of place. you sit up a little, trying to read his expression, but it’s as blank as ever.

“what?”

“marriage,” he repeats, a slight edge creeping into his voice. “to me. would you do it?”

you stare at him, searching for any hint of emotion beneath his flawless mask, but patrick is hard to read—always has been. his jaw tightens, hand moving to his forehead, carefully brushing back his hair.

“are you serious?” you ask cautiously.

his brow furrow, as if he considered the question offensive. “why do you keep asking me that?” he mumbles to himself. then, louder: “i wouldn’t ask if i wasn’t. why wouldn’t i be? it makes sense. people expect it. it’s… logical,” he adds, stumbling over the word. “we’re compatible. people like us together. it stabilizes things—publicly.” you arch an eyebrow. “publicly?”

“and personally,” he adds defensively. his words start to unravel then, spilling out faster, almost rambling: “look, it’s not complicated. this is what people do. they get married. it’s expected, and we’re… aligned. you make sense. this makes sense.” he pauses, voice cracking.

“doesn’t it?”

when you don’t answer right away, he exhales sharply, leaning back against the headboard. “y/n, love of my life. it’s a straightforward question,” he groans. “marry me, or don’t marry me. just don’t make it complicated.”

and somehow, that makes you smile.

“yes,” you say finally, voice steady now. “i’ll marry you, patrick.” his reaction is barely perceptible—a faint exhale, tense shoulders easing a fraction.

“good,” he mumbles, his tone returning to its usual briskness. “i’ll call jean tomorrow. have her adjust my schedule. i’ll… start making arrangements.”

before patrick can retreat further into himself, you lean in and press a gentle, fleeting kiss to his lips. he stiffens at first, but then he kisses you back. when you pull back, you offer a small smile, your fingertips brushing lightly over his cheek. he lets you, his gaze holding yours for a brief, unguarded second before he shifts away, reaching for his rolex on the nightstand.

“i should… get started on my routine,”

[cliffbar-booth]

FANTASIES PT.2 (rewritten!!!!11!)

ermm i reread the og second part and eugh i forgot how shit i was

warnings: daddy kink, risk of being seen, oral (male receiving), choking, sex overall, cockwarming, uhh that's about it? word count: 692

summary: patrick realizes what you were thinking about earlier and decides to act upon it with a "fuck it i'd bang her" mindset.

"..you were even biting your lip and everything."

I was so fucked.

"i'm.. i'm sorry?"

"just.. i dunno. c'mere." he made a gesture for me to come to his desk with two slender fingers.

i sat on the sofa, still, my eyebrows arched a little from confusion.

"i said, get the fuck over here cupcake. i don't have all day in this place." he snarled, leaning back in his seat, man-spreading. i got up, walking to his desk, standing in front of him.

"now, daddy's gonna need you to sit on his lap, can you do that, hun?"

my eyes widened, were we able to do this in the office?

"i-"

"shut the fuck up and sit on my damn lap. i know what you were thinking about, and you're hot enough to fuck, so just do as i say or i won't gouge your eyes out... okay princess?" he was a horny fuck, and i was a cute girl, there was bound to be some form of sex i guess, sooner or later.

from fear, i sat on his lap, hesitant. his hands roamed up my thighs, one hand slipping under my skirt and panties, rubbing against my folds. i'm a little ashamed to say that i was turned on, but he could already tell.

"mr bateman, i can er, explain-"

his free hand went around my throat, gripping it.

"not another word out of that pretty little mouth. i don't care, pumpkin."

i let out a somewhat breathy moan as his index finger went up my pussy, curling immediately. his grip grew tighter as he did so though.

"don't want Price (aka Bryce), McDermott, Van Patten, or even Luis to hear, do you?"

I shook my head.

"so keep quiet, pretty please.."

after he played with my pussy and having denied my orgasms for a while, he decided that it was enough torture for now. he moved me so i now faced him, unzipping his fly and adjusting his belt so he could free his dick. it was pretty fucking big, scary to imagine having that in me. it was angry red, already leaking with some precum. i swallowed thickly. he moved me a little so his hand was in my hair as he guided me down to his cock. i already knew what i would have to do, so i stuck my tongue out as he guided my head, licking up and down his shaft. i then put my tongue back into my mouth as he moved my head right above his cock, guiding it down as my lips wrapped around it. i reached around 1/2 to 3/4 of the way down his dick before gagging. it was huge. my head bobbed up and down, my hands touching, massaging, and stroking whatever my mouth couldn't reach.

as his seed spilled down my throat, i pulled away, gasping. he then picked me up with ease, lined me up with his now soaking cock, and lowered me on it rather quickly, causing me to yelp. his hand wrapped back around my throat, his grip as tight as my pussy. it was easy to fuck me now, since his dick was wet from a mixture of cum and saliva.

he began to pound into me, his dick going in and out, just like i imagined. i let out soft whimpers through his grasp, my eyes watering and my orgasm slowly building.

then, finally, the rope snapped just as his did and i trembled on his lap, seeing white. it was so relieving and amazing, even tearjerking, to know how much i needed that orgasm, and that i'd finally gotten it. just when i thought it was over, and that i'd go back to work, he turned me (after pulling out), so i sat facing away from him. he spun his chair a little so we faced his desk, and he began to work while still inside me. i squirmed, but he slapped the side of my ass.

"don't move."

we sat like this until it was time to head home, where we went our separate ways until the next day of work.

[megangovier]

Hallow Eve's

Ghostface!Patrick Bateman x f!resder

For @makeyoumine69🩷 Summary: f!reader tiptoes into Patrick's house, heads upstairs and was about to open the door til you heard moans within his walls.

Warning: 18+ only, mask kink, smut, solo m!masturbation, blood drinking, F! masturbation, male sex toy, knife play, filming, mdni

As you slipped your spare key into the front door, it opened slowly with a slight squeak. Tiptoeing into Patrick's house a "hello" left your mouth and no-one answered you back. A shrug left your shoulders and you decided to sneak up the staircase just to see if he was in his office, as you were about to open it a grunt came from the room next door. Heading forward a slit could be seen.

Your hand slowly fell onto the doorknob, opening it slightly a sultry moan escaped his lips. Your eyes had widened at the view on the bed, heart pumping and face red. Patrick was lying on his bed, ghost face mask on, knife running up his V line upto his chest. Blood could be seen on the tip, he grabs the end of the mask, pulls it over his nose and licks the knife making his pants twitch.

Your hand slips into your panties, bottom lip between your teeth. You couldn't believe how good he sounds, your face is burning as bright as the sun in summer. Patrick switches position, his fleshlight between the two pillows, his back facing you. The way Patrick's muscles clench with every thrusts making you clench around your own fingers. You were so close, you had to film him to save it for later when you were in your own bed asleep at night, listening to his moans in your ears.

Quietly getting your phone out and clicking on video, you wipe your juices off your fingers and point the camera at Patrick. Glad to still have his back to you, he's pounding harder into his fleshlight wishing it was you, the one under him, leaving marks over your thighs, hand around your throat. God you wanted to feel him so badly, if he'd fit inside of you or would it be too big? Thinking about it was making sweet juices run down your thighs.

Putting your phone away, your hand went back down between your thighs. Saliva was running out the corner of your mouth, eyes rolling at the back of your head. You could no longer hear Patrick's slutty moans, so you guessed he was finished until you opened your eyes and saw him standing in front of you. Eyes wide, face turning white you've been caught.

[l1tw1ck]

Mirrored

Bottom Patrick Bateman x Top Masc Reader

newest addition to the writelist

CW: Mirror Sex, Blood

Patrick loves watching himself in the mirror during sex to see how good he looks while you're fucking him

How pretty he looks when his stomach bulges or how your hands compliment the rest of him when they wrap around his throat or waist

How gorgeous he looks when he comes, eyes nearly unfocused with a slight smile on his face. How alluring he is when he jerks himself off despite having come already, he just looks so good overstimulated

How exquisite Patrick looks with red marks all over his body, around his neck, on his thighs, and on his ass

How enchanting he looks with cum dripping out of his hole, he loves to sit in front of the mirror and spread his legs to just watch it dribble out

How charming he looks drenched with blood all over his body as you fuck him, bloodied hands running all along his perfect body