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makeyoumine69 · 10 months ago

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Memory Reboot

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: You work at P&P, and one day you come into Bateman's office and witness his breakdown. Your attempts to comfort him only increase his obsession with you, and without realizing it, you push this man to his limits. The outburst that finds you both in a club called the Tunnel will change your lives forever and irrevocably.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, obsessive behavior, desperate-touch-starved Patrick, masturbating, oral sex (reader receiving), aggressive foreplay, dirty talk, body worship, teasing, biting, drug usage, pet names.

WORDS: 3k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent - Memory Reboot

A/N: This is for my dear @iron-flavored-lipgloss! It was such a pleasure for me to write this for you! Enjoy!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [EDIT]

Patrick Bateman. What kind of a mess was this man? Chaotic, impulsive, pathetic? Or all of the above?

Smirking, you went to his office to deliver some documents you needed him to sign, but when you got there, you noticed that Jean — his lovely blonde assistant — was absent and the door to his office was suspiciously half open. It was strange, to say the least, but you just shrugged your shoulders and stood there for a while when you heard a loud thud coming through the door — the sound almost made you jump in surprise. 'What the hell?' You wondered as you approached the door, turning around to see if Jean was coming, but there was no sign of her. With measured steps you got closer to the hole in the open door and just peeked in out of curiosity, but the scene you saw was not what you expected — Bateman, all flushed and covered in sweat, was storming around his office, his hands desperately fumbling with his tie as if it was choking him.

Your reaction was quick, and you didn't even notice as you opened the door and stepped inside. "Bateman? Are you okay?"

The man stopped shaking the moment he heard your voice and leaned down on his desk. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to get your signature on some of my docs when I heard you crying,” you grinned, watching his face go pale. "What's wrong, Bateman? Did you miss your facial?" The way he balled his hands made you laugh. "But really, did something happen?"

"Yes," Patrick replied, looking at you and running his hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean...no...nothing happened…" You saw his lips tremble a little each time he spoke. "Gimme the docs."

Frowning in confusion, you pulled out a napkin and handed it to him instead, meeting his scornful gaze. "You're sweating…” You placed the white piece of cloth on his desk, only now noticing a small jar that you were sure was full of pills. "Maybe I should ask Jean to bring you some coffee? You look really sick..."

"No!" Bateman suddenly blurted out, pointing his finger at you. "I asked Jean to take the day off..."

"Hey, hey, relax," you raised your hands defensively. "Relax, I was just trying to help."

Slowly, you placed the folder of documents on his wooden desk, which he grabbed almost immediately, and your hands touched for a brief moment, and Bateman didn't flinch, and neither did you.

"Take a seat." Patrick muttered incoherently.

"What?"

"Sit," he repeated irritably. "And wait."

His tumultuous behavior actually frightened you, but you did as he said and sat down in the chair opposite him. ‘My God, he really is mental, Tim was right.’

"What are these pills? Some vitamins?" You tried to keep the conversation alive, not even knowing why, as you watched his long, thin fingers floating across the pages.

Your question made him stop and look up at you. "That's none of your business, (y/n). I asked you to sit and wait, not ask me stupid questions."

‘Why does he look so cute when he's so angry?’ The thought brought a smile to your face, but then you zipped up your mouth theatrically and Bateman's office went silent for a while. And you used it to admire his perfect jawline, even though his brown hair was messy now, it looked so inviting to touch anyway.

"Is that all?" Bateman asked suddenly, arching his eyebrows and interrupting your train of thought.

"Uh, what?"

A prominent line appeared on Patrick's forehead — a testament to his annoyance. "Are you deaf or something?"

"Lemme see them," you pointed at the documents. "I want to make sure you put your cute sign on every page." Your playful tone made the line between Patrick's eyebrows even more noticeable. "I don't want to come back here."

Bateman didn't even try to jab back, his face still pale and sweaty, his eyes nothing but dark voids — oh, how fucking empty they were. Sighing heavily, Patrick raised his gaze when he heard the chair creak as you got up and walked around his desk. The sudden cut in the distance between the two of you was something Patrick didn't seem to be ready for, as his hands nervously gripped the armrests, but you pretended not to notice.

"We all feel down sometimes," you murmured over his ear, literally sensing the tension radiating from his body. "And that's okay." Placing your hand on his broad shoulder, you leaned down to look at the documents, surreptitiously inhaling the scent of his perfume mixed with his sweat. ‘Fuck, what am I doing?’

"I didn't know you had a part-time job as a therapist," he grumbled, examining your palm, wondering if he was going to kill you here and now, or keep you in here forever. "Listen, I have a reservation at Barcadia..."

"Mmm, Barcadia? Really?"

Bateman nodded and finally removed your hand. "Yes, I'm having lunch with Coutrney."

"I wonder what Luis thinks of these lunches with his fiancé." You picked up the folder and stepped back from his armchair. "You don't feel guilty about sleeping with Coutrney behind his back, do you?"

Gritting his perfectly white teeth, the brown-haired man abruptly got up from his desk and stormed toward you, surely intending to yell at you or say something rude, but the moment he stopped directly across from you and your eyes met, Bateman's expression suddenly became lost and confused. "Just stop," he finally managed to mutter. "Stop poking around in my fucking head…" As you noticed his pupils widening, things were no longer funny to you. "Understand?"

‘Well, maybe turning it into a joke is not a bad plan,’ you hummed and nodded. "Sure, Bateman," you sneered a little nervously. "I'm just reading this book Timothy gave me," you slowly turned and walked to the door. "The book about Human Psychology." That was surely a joke, but judging by the serious look Patrick gave you, he didn't seem to get it.

"Tim gave you... a book?" He repeated, frowning in confusion and disbelief.

When you opened the door, you paused for a second, wanting to say something smart at the end. "Oh yeah. Why don't you ask him about it? Maybe he can recommend some books about... human relationships or something." And with that, you smiled in satisfaction at seeing Bateman's face quiver with anger before you left his office, leaving him with a raging tempest in his chest.

Later that day, Patrick couldn't sleep because his mind was so full of different thoughts, but the only thing they had in common was that they were all connected to you. You, you, you. The sound of running water echoed off the marble walls of his lavish bathroom as Bateman stood in the shower, enjoying the way the strong streams of cold water hit his back. Huffing, Patrick desperately scrubbed his skin as if it would help him get rid of the thoughts of you that haunted him the day he first met you — you were so cheeky, so sweet, everyone loved you and wanted to hang out with you. How fucking cute. Patrick groaned as he felt a throb at the base of his hard cock, God, he felt like it was hard all the time and no sex could help him with that because all those people, they weren't you.

"Argh, fuck," he groaned as he finally allowed himself to touch his twitching dick and give it a few strokes.

"F-fuck..." Bateman pumped his length rhythmically, recoiling at the memories of today, the way you put your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your breath on the back of his neck. And what would it feel like if you had placed your hand on his chest, or run it over his abdomen and then down?

"Uh, a-ahhh," the man moaned louder, shaking uncontrollably from the orgasm building at the base of his spine. "(Y/n), your hands feel so good on me, oh-shit…" Patrick had to lean against the shower wall as his legs buckled from the intense waves of ecstasy as he cummed with your name on his trembling lips, the water still running down his sculpted body, washing his cum off, but he was still so hard.

"Reading books on psychology," Bateman chuckled, tilting his head. "What an idiot." His nervous giggle bounced across the shower, but soon the laughter turned to a low wail. "Pathetic…”

Time flowed like sand through your fingers, and you couldn't even remember how many days had passed since your visit to Bateman's office, but since then something had changed between the two of you, but you both couldn't understand what exactly had changed, or maybe you didn't want to try to understand. To be fair, it was so fucking annoying that when you found out that Tim, David, Craig and Patrick were going to the Tunnel, you saw it as your chance to dot the T's, no matter how the evening would end.

When you arrived at the club, it was so crowded that it took you a while to find the group of yuppies sitting on the plush couches next to the dance floor, jamming to the music and drinking their cocktails.

As you approached, Craig was the first to spot you. "Woah, woah, look who it is!" His cheeky remark caused everyone to look at you, including Bateman, whose teeth were visibly clenched around his cigar at that moment.

"Hey, guys! Enjoying the music I see?" You smiled, fixing your hair briefly from the sudden rush of panic. ‘Damn it, stay calm! Why am I so nervous?’

Timothy winked at you and raised his glass. "Did you come alone or..." he stopped abruptly when he noticed someone behind your back. "Hey, is that Paul Allen?"

‘Shit, shit, shit. That was so much easier in my head than it is in reality.’ You chewed on your cheek, and while the men were guessing whether they really saw Paul Allen or not, a sudden idea came to your mind, but you hated it before you even started to bring it to life. "Do you have a gram?" You asked without thinking, hoping they would say no.

"I do," Bateman's voice came out of nowhere and you almost screamed in your head, but you had to keep your composure. "But you will owe me." As he said this, you came closer to where he was sitting with a playful smile on your face and took a seat next to him. "Wait, we are not going to do coke here."

"Hey, why not?" David chuckled and took out his business card holder. "What's wrong with it?

"Oh God, look at that cheeky bastard," Craig pressed a palm to his face. "Van Patten decided to be a bad boy today."

The men laughed and high-fived each other before Bateman whispered in your ear, making you almost jump. "Follow me." Those two simple words made you obey like you were under a spell.

As the two of you made your way to the bathroom where people in the Tunnel usually did coke, your heart pounded to the heavy beat of the music, or even faster. Patrick went first, his elegant silhouette like a shining star in the midnight sky — so eye-catching and mesmerizing that it wasn't surprising that a lot of people turned around to look at him, but you didn't care as soon you would be alone with him. ‘Just you and me, Bateman.’

The bathroom was surprisingly empty today. The last time you were there, you had to wait almost half an hour to get into the free stall, but now luck seemed to be on your side. As you stepped into one, Patrick pulled out his business card holder and rolled the $100 bill; you did the same, watching as Bateman made lines of coke with his platinum AmEx card.

"I have to say, you look much better." You commented briefly.

The man was about to lean over to snort the white powder, but your words made him freeze. "Huh," he chuckled abruptly and brushed away a stray lock of hair. "I was just reading some books about... relationships," Patrick grimaced, drawing out the last word with a cocky grin. "It changed my mind." Before you could say anything, Patrick was snorting the coke, holding the rolled-up bill to his nostril while holding another down with his thumb.

"Very funny," you mumbled, tapping the rolled note against the inside of your palm. "Where was your wit when I walked into your office a week ago?"

Bateman coughed quietly and threw his head back for a moment to clean his nose. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer to his business card holder to inhale the white line of powder that had been left there, your mood was already off, and at some point you even began to regret coming to Tunnel tonight. Though it wasn't your first time doing coke, you felt so dizzy as the drug began to intoxicate your system that you almost fell to the floor if you hadn't bumped into Bateman's chest, leaving a white stain on the lapel of his Valentino suit.

"Hey! What the fuck!" Patrick blurted out, ready to push you off, but the way you grabbed his shoulders stirred something strange inside him, something he was fighting all the time. "Have you ever done coke?"

You coughed several times, blinked nervously, and only then did you let him go. "Sorry..." you gasped and leaned against the wall of the stall behind your back. "It's been a while."

"You stained my jacket."

"God! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No," Bateman replied, brushing off. "Not okay."

"What do you mean?" You asked confusedly, batting your eyelashes and breathing heavily.

Patrick dropped his head for a second before looking at you again, your faces dangerously close. "I'm not okay."

You licked your lips nervously. "Why?"

Instead of saying anything, the man pulled you against his massive frame, giving you no time to react as his hot mouth covered yours; it was difficult to call it a kiss, it was more like the act of claiming — his strong arms trapping you between the wall and his muscular body while yours hovered motionlessly like whips. When Bateman released you, he tugged at your lower lip and licked it with a wet, obscene sound. "Because...because of this."

Panting, you stood in shock for a moment before nodding and touching your wet lips. "Yes," you put both hands on his chest, exploring it slowly but boldly, causing him to close his eyes for a second. "I don't think I'm okay either." After whispering it in his ear, you slid your tongue down his bare neck, right over the mole, and when you heard him grunting, you lowered your hand to his belt, playing teasingly with the buckle.

"Lower," Bateman husked, and when you didn't listen, he grabbed your hand and lowered it himself — the outline of his fully erected cock eliciting a muffled moan to break out of your cramped throat. "Ahhh-fuck."

"God, you're so needy," you murmured against his neck, busy undoing his belt. "So touchy."

It only took a few seconds for you to undo his pants and let his taut dick pop out of his underwear. ‘Mmhhm, his cock is so perfect, just as I expected,’ you smiled to yourself, and in the next moment you were stroking his throbbing length, smearing his slick pre-cum around his swollen tip without any shame or fear of getting caught.

"(Y/n)," Patrick hissed as he pressed you against the wall with his weight, his hands sneaking down your back to grope your ass. "Be quiet," the man ordered when he heard your soft moans. "Keep quiet and undo this." Bateman pointed to your bottom and just the thought of what he was about to do to you almost made you cum.

"Why?" You gave him a foxy grin and tightened your grip on his dick, forcing Patrick to hold his breath.

"Just...just do what I say..."

"Okay, honey."

"Don't call me that!" He uttered and squeezed your ass painfully, your bodies grinding against each other, making you hot and sweaty.

"Patrick..." You attempted to kiss him, but he turned away.

In one swift motion, the man reached your neck and aggressively nipped at the throbbing artery. "Shut up! Just shut up and undo this fucking..."

You didn't let him finish his tantrum as you caught his lips with yours, increasing the tempo of the jacking, and you could feel he was so damn close. But since he was so insistent, you undid the lower part of your garment, and everything that happened next was like one of your recent dreams. Bateman, flushed and panting, crouched down, his cock slipping out of your grasp, but the next second his fierce mouth found its way between your legs as he began to suck on your sensitive flesh with sheer greed and passion, not forgetting to pump his dick and growl softly against your skin.

"Ohh, Pat-Patrick," you gasped, tugging at his brown hair, dishevelling it, but neither of you cared. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop..."

"Mmm-fuck, you taste so sweet," Patrick pressed his face closer to your core, his free hand nailing you to the wall to hold you in place. "You're shaking like a fucking whore."

Chucking, you yanked at his hair a little harder. "And you're devouring me like a starved man, are you starved, Bateman? How long have you been... so fucking s-starved?" You hiccupped as he redoubled his efforts, lapping at your crotch and jerking himself off. "F-fuck, I'm... I'm gonna..."

The loud footsteps made you both stop in your tracks, and when you heard people coming into the bathroom, you stalled completely, only to quickly fix your clothes and then pretend nothing had happened as you left the stall. Later, as you were washing your hands, Patrick stood behind you and you met his eyes in the mirror. "Are you leaving or..." You asked briefly as he handed you your twisted bill.

"Yeah," Bateman straightened his jacket and wiped his mouth with a paper towel before opening the door. "You better forget about it. Believe me."

‘And now I feel like I need a memory reboot.’

Chapter 2 is here! 💗✌

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!

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dominantslasherking · 1 year ago

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Patrick Bateman with Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

Backstory: Patrick had always mistaken his jealousy for you to be out of wanting what you want, to be like you, when it was in fact that Patrick was jealous because he couldn't be with you. Patrick wants to show you how much he wants you, by getting on his knees like a good boy. (BTW you're his boss) Warnings: Needy Patrick Bateman. Bratty Patrick Bateman. Submissive Patrick bateman

"Mr. Bateman?"

His assistant's voice was drowned out by his raving thoughts, his still face urked something deeper on the inside. Patrick's breath halted as he watched you enter the meeting room. Patrick''s eyes fixated on you, the object of his all-consuming fixation, You, wearing a designer suit so exquisitely tailored. "The stitching was so fine that it could have been performed by angels, and the black silk tie, perfectly knotted, was a stark contrast to the snowy white dress shirt beneath. His cuffs peeked out just enough, revealing pristine, perfectly aligned links that seemed to shimmer in the ambient light."

Patrick's inner monologue continued to obsess over your suit and how it was tailor-made, and it made Patrick grit his teeth a bit that you one-upped him with your tailor-made, and currently-in-style suit.

Patrick was snapped out of his intense thinking as you greeted him, your large and veiny hand, taking in his own. "Pleasure, once again Mr Bateman." Your humble and husky voice rang. Patrick gave a fake smile. "Of course." You could tell that Patrick held back his greetings of praise was that jealousy written on his face? The business meeting continued on normally, Patrick always sparing you passing glances, a mixture of emotions displayed in his eyes.

<>><<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>> The next scene was at Dorsia, the place Patrick could never get into, but he was oh so shocked to receive an invitation from you of all people.

But Patrick was just happy he could get in, he wore a fake smile, his best suit, and a pretty woman at his side. Patrick's smile instantly fell when he saw you, with a breathtaking woman, more beautiful than the one at his side.

But it wasn't jealousy of the woman you had, it was something more, that Patrick couldn't place just yet.

"Don't worry, the meal is on me." You politely stated, as Patrick's intense gaze lifted up from the menu and onto you for a brief moment, a mutter under his breath, something incoherent, but, you could tell he was mocking you. Slowly you rested your face lightly on your knuckles amused by him, how come you have never noticed such a handsome yet bratty worker? Not only that but when the waiter came over, you saw a sinister grin place itself on Patrick's face as he smiled showing off his pearly teeth. "I think I'll indulge in the 'Golden Elixir of Ostentation,'" Patrick said purposely ordering the most expensive alcoholic beverage on the menu, he was clearly reveling in his choice. It seemed he was expecting you to protest in a sense, but you straightened up your posture a bit and gave a small nod. "Make that two bottles." "The bratty veneer I had carefully cultivated crumbled away. It was a sensation I hadn't felt in a long time - the desire to submit." Patrick had thought. His face fell into one of stillness and unease.

<>><<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>>

Patrick opened his mouth, letting your fingers enter. Patrick's tongue rolled around, licking and slurping on your fingers, as he then began to suck, maintaining eye contact with you. On his knees, in your fancy penthouse is where the current setting was. Patrick was already stripped of most of his suit, his suit's jacket laying somewhere, Tie gone, his white dress shirt unbuttoned nearly fully, his hair a mess. "[Name].." Patrick's voice was muffled and breathless as he tried to speak with your fingers in his mouth, his eyes were a bit droopy with lust.

"In that instant, the power dynamics shifted, and I found myself navigating a treacherous new territory, craving his attention and approval more than ever before." --- Patrick Bateman.

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sl4sh3rsub · 11 months ago

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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.

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s8tnn · 3 months ago

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patrick bateman icons pt.2

like or reblog if you use these and no reposts please 💕

tap here to request

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cece693 · 3 days ago

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Hi, your tumblr is amazing, I loved discovering it. Can I make a request? About a slasher who discovers that the male reader is a serial killer as terrible as the ones in the real world. I'm not sure which one would fit best; I thought of Jason, Billy and Stu, maybe Michael or Norman Bates… whatever you think is best and/or are most familiar with.

Slashers With a Serial Killer Lover (Slashers x GN! Reader)

Sorry it took a while to complete this request but I was in a weird funk and uninspired. However, with this being more of a multi-character request/headcannon, it spurred me to complete it. I included the slashers you mentioned above, alongside Hannibal, Will (I'm aware he's not a slasher, but I just love him) and Patrick. I also changed it to be gender neutral because I want to be more inclusive :)

Norman Bates

Norman would be conflicted—after all, you're not only worried about his reaction but that of 'mother.' If your actions pleased her, Norman might be supportive. However, if they don't and 'mother' perceives you to be a threat, expect Norman to turn against you (with tears in his eyes.) However, even if 'mother' does approve of your hobby, this relationship is far from simple. 'Mother' might grow jealous of how much Norman is straying from her teachings and become vengeful. Expect a chaotic rollercoaster of guilt, affection, and psychological breakdowns.

Michael Myers

Michael would be indifferent to your hobby unless they interfered with his own objectives. He might view you as a tool or an ally in his pursuits, but wouldn't engage emotionally or ethically about whom you kill. Expect no romantic gestures, but be assured, Michael observes from the shadows whenever your out and about. He's ready to lend a hand when you need a show of brutal force or the tides unexpectedly turn against you. Michael doesn’t tolerate weakness, so if you proved to be cunning and self-sufficient, that would almost earn a silent respect.

Billy Loomis

Billy’s manipulative side would initially question if this is some trick or if he can use the situation to his advantage. However, deep down, he’d be excited at the idea of having a lover who’s just as twisted as he is. However, because you are a serial killer and Billy has this notion of being the 'brains' of the relationship, expect many fights. He wants to be the person in control, so he might never be fully comfortable in your relationship if he perceives you as greater than him. This relationship is a mine for mind games, but be assured when you find common ground, you're a deadly duo.

Stu Matcher

Stu wouldn't care about you being a serial killer. In fact he'll be ecstatic because it would be like living in a non-stop horror flick. Let's face it, he has murder tendencies but often allows you to take reign. He would join your hunts but see it more as a game: he'd want to do 'team kills', wear matching outfits, etc. Expect him to crack jokes non-stop or reference horror tropes, even if you're in the middle of killing someone. Stu is impulsive—“Hey, let’s kill that person!” or “We should totally sabotage this house party!” If you're down for it, Stu’s loyalty is intense, though erratic.

Jason Voorhees

Jason mostly kills out of vengeance or anger, and he’s not particularly intellectual about it. So when he discovers that his boyfriend is a serial killer, he wouldn't be bothered. In fact, he'll probably look up to you: learning how to better kill and dispose of his victims. However, he would get violent if you make a move unto his territory (Camp Crystal Lake) or disrespect the memory of his beloved mother. You are a serial killer and so is Jason, but a part of you likes to hide some of your more brutal and gruesome kills from him. He has a childlike mind so you thread carefully and are overprotective of your giant teddy bear :)

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal, being a connoisseur of murder himself, would be intrigued and possibly delighted by having a lover who shared his proclivities. However, he would also evaluate your style and motives. If they matched his sense of aesthetic and intellectual stimulation, he would be supportive, but he might manipulate or dispose of you if deemed proved crude or unworthy. He has standards, after all. He’d encourage you to be more meticulous, to pay attention to the senses, to savor each detail. Hannibal would absolutely offer subtle mentorship—introducing more elegant methods, or guiding you toward “ethically chosen” victims. Expect a twisted sort of domesticity: lavish dinners, intellectual sparring, and an understanding that behind every polite smile, there lurks a dangerous mind. Hannibal would want a partner who challenges him intellectually and morally, even in their darkest impulses.

Will Graham

Will would initially be disturbed upon discovering that you're a serial killer. His empathy would reel from the moral violation. Yet, there might be a pull—something that resonates with the darker corners of his psyche. It would be a constant tug-of-war between love (or at least genuine care) and the horror of his partner’s violent acts. Will might try to “save” them, or rationalize why they kill, but he’d be tormented by guilt at the same time. Torn between turning you in or continuing to keep the secret, Will might become complicit in small ways—covering up your tracks or giving subtle advice to avoid detection. This would only deepen his internal conflict. However, once that love for you overclouds his morality, Will becomes a complicit partner and helps you with your kills.

Patrick Bateman

Patrick’s narcissism would initially cause him to feel threatened—he wants to be the center of attention and the “best” at whatever he does, including killing. But if your kills are stylish, impressive, or feed into his ego, he’d become enthralled. You best believe foreplay includes you killing one of Patrick's rivals and creating a tableau that fosters his view of superiority above everyone else. The relationship would revolve around status, wealth, and aesthetics. Your kills would become an odd game of one-upmanship: who can kill more creatively or remain more flawless in public. Patrick loves an audience—if you can provide him with the right blend of admiration and competition, you'll stay in his good graces.

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derkhue · 1 year ago

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patrick bateman - sigma face

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livingdeadmlm · 2 years ago

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can u do a patrick bateman x male reader one where male reader is just appreciating patricks beauty after patrick having a bad day something like that yknow? IM SO DESPERATE THANK U 😭

When he came home from a dinner with his friends you could practically feel the anger radiating off of him

‘At least he didn’t go to the tunnel today… progress?’

Sitting up from the comfortable couch it lightly creaked at your movements

“Hey Patrick, would you like to join me?”

With a huff, Patrick placed his belongings on the nearby table

"I'm just watching some reruns but we can put on whatever you'd like." He shook his head no and stepped into your shared bedroom where you could hear the shower water begin to run

getting up from the dent you made in the couch you made your way to the bedroom just to lay down and wait for his shower to be over

"you know (Name) I'm not sure why I still hang out with those assholes, for 3 hours at dinner I had to pretend to be George from human resources to Landon and it was like some sort of sick joke! I mean I've driven that guy home halfway dead and he can't even remember my name? Pathetic."

"Well next time you see him do the same back with someone else's name and see how he likes it, or just ignore him, the connections you have with these men are only worth how good they are Patrick!"

the water stopped and the clicking of lids opening and closing as Patrick sighed out more complaints about the dinner before finally stepping out

"oh wow look at you handsome," he chuckled heading to the closet for some pajamas

"I may have to start looking into skincare like yours, you just get younger after every use! Just a matter of time before someone thinks our relationship is inappropriate."

the smile on his face only got bigger at your compliments

"You know I would love for you to start your own routine of taking care of yourself, I'm just worried about others starting to take notice"

you hummed scooting over on the bed to make room for Patrick to lie down.

"well too bad no one beating you in my mind."

he tucked himself next to you the soft blanket feeling like heaven against his skin

"You really are handsome Bateman, all the work you put in really pays you off well, how about tomorrow after you get off of work we go shopping for some new pieces, spring is coming up so there should be some good stuff."

#patrick bateman x male reader #male reader #american psycho #American Psycho x male reader

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mr-bas00nist · 2 years ago

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Take It All: Pt. 2

A/n: This is from my old account and was also a request! @justice-maul. They asked me if I could make a part 2 so here we are. Pt.1

Cw- Rough sex, anal, multiple orgasms, humiliation, degradation, raw sex, masochism and no protection

Ever since your little encounter with Bateman he’s been oddly….nice? He wouldn’t boss you around as much and he didn’t even treat you like an assistant. He treated you like a friend, not that you’d ever want to be affiliated with a man like that but still….. it was strange and you had no idea why he changed. You fucked his face and degraded him like the trash he was yet he’s crawling back to you like your a god….

You were currently in the kitchen of the office getting a cup of coffee for yourself when you sense a presence. You felt a pair of eyes staring at you. You already knew who it was so you didn’t bother to turn around. You continue to pour the coffee into the porcelain mug grabbing the creamer. You than heard quiet footsteps and you felt someone’s breath on your back. You shivered at the feeling.

You than felt someone begin to grab your hips and that’s when you cut it off. You slap his hands away glaring at him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?!” You shout angrily. He doesn’t respond he only continues staring. “What’s your major malfunction Bateman?” You glare at him as you look him up and down. You scowl pushing him away as you walk back to your office.

He looks at himself in the mirror wondering what was wrong with him? Why was he so enamored with you that he follows your around like a lost puppy? It was stupid, sickening that THE Patrick Bateman was following some lowlife around his office. What was going on with him? Why was he doing this? Why are you so fucking hot for gods sake?!

You sit in your office looking at your computer with a dead look on your face. You had way to much too do. You sigh heavily as stand up to go get stuff from the printer. You make sure everything was printed correctly before sitting back down and continuing to fill it out work. Bateman was currently in a meeting watching you from afar thanks to the giant glass panels in the conference room.

The other nimwits in the room were talking about beers and other stupid shit. He didn’t care for them, at all. Their company was sickening to deal with and the atmosphere in the room was similar to a bunch of drunk alcoholic uncles. He wished he was with you, sitting with you, talking with you. He longed for it but knew he had to get this meeting done as much as he didn’t want too.

Later that night you were still in your small cubicle finishing up your work while chugging coffee and energy drinks down (and you wonder why you’re sleep schedules fucked 🤨).

You sigh heavily as you finally make it to the last assignment, it was a self assessment so you could get it done really fast.

You than hear tapping across the hard wooden floors. The sound of familiar dress shoes tapping across the ground making it known someone was coming closer towards you, and you had a good idea about who it was. You don’t even have to turn your head to know that it’s your boss. You sigh annoyed simply continuing your work.

“Y/n.” He speaks in that monotone voice you despise. “What?” You spit out with venom lacing your tone. “How come your here so late?” He asks curiously. “Because you’ve been flooding me with work because your lazy ass can’t do shit.” You speak taking another sip of your coffee. He hums in acknowledgement.

He watches your nimble fingers type quickly across the keyboard as your eyes squint with focus. “Why have you been following me for the past few days?” You ask turning your chair to face him. He’s taken aback by your question but decides to answer. “I’ve been thinking about the, session we had at the bar.” He speaks a light blush dusting his face.

You nod as you submit your last assignment before standing up and looking at him in the eyes. “And?” You click your tongue with an amused look. “I’ve been thinking about other things you could do.” As calm as he thought he looked you could smell the longing and desperation for you on him. You smirk as you move closer to him so that your noses are almost touching.

“You know Bateman, I’ve been real stressed this week,” You watch how his lips tighten at this comment. “Since you want something different how about you help me relieve some stress.” He nods eagerly as you grin. “Wonderful.” You grab him by his hair pushing him onto the desk as he groans. “Disgusting fucking whore.” You grimace.

You grab his hips as you begin to speak, “Take your pants off.” He quickly begins to unbuckle his belt toying with the buckle a bit. He pulls them down leaving him in just his boxers. You look at him with hungry eyes. You couldn’t stand his personality but his body was something to be proud of. You pull his pants down watching as he jolts at the feeling of cold air.

You keep his head shoved in the desk pushing a little harder than you usually do in intimate situations. He wasn’t complaining though. You quickly take your cock out giving it a few pumps. “You don’t seem like the type to want it gentle,” You grip his ass roughly. “That time you were sucking me off is proof.” You lick your lips as you rub it up against his hole. “W-wait.”

He speaks as he feels the head of your dick at his entrance. You don’t listen as you shove yourself in him. He cries out as you groan in unison at the feeling. You continue pushing shoving yourself in with every inch of strength you’ve got. His legs shake as he grips onto the desk with all his might trying not to collapse. You bottom out in him for a few moments stretching him out.

You slowly begin thrusting as he groans. “Fuck… so tight.” You place your hand on your hip and the other one on his as you begin thrusting faster and faster. His moans grow in volume as he begins to twitch. “You gonna cum already Bateman?” You tease. He nods vigorously as he continues moaning. “Alright, but I’m not stopping.” You continue thrusting with a brutal pace as he cums with a drawn out moan.

Just as you said, you didn’t plan on stopping. You pushed his head farther into the wooden desk, his grip around your dick got even tighter igniting a new spark in you to go even harder. You continue to thrust even harder making his moans increase. “Fuck if you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum.” You laugh breathlessly pulling his hips back into you.

After a short amount of time you begin to reach your high. “I-I can f-feel you…” He moans. You hum in acknowledgment. “In or out?” You ask curiously, getting closer and closer. He thinks for a moment before speaking, “In, please.” You nod thrusting as fast as you can hitting his prostate every time.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum, gonna cum so fucking deep inside you.” You speak while moaning. He continues to moan and whimper beneath you. “You ready? Ready to get filled like the whore you are?” You don’t await and answer. With a few more thrusts Bateman cums with another moan. He tightens around you sending you over the edge with a loud moan from yourself.

You stay in him for a few second before pulling out watching as your cum drips out of him. You sigh putting your dick back in your pants picking up your suitcase. You look at Bateman watching him hyperventilate on your desk. You smirk blowing him a kiss.

“See you tomorrow sir.” You wave as you walk down the stairs. He couldn’t wait.

#patrick bateman #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman x male reader #patrick bateman x reader #dom reader #dom male reader #american psycho

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makeyoumine69 · 2 months ago

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is this where i ask you things? if not imma be embarrassed.

but anyway! ik it’s such an overused plot but im obsessed w it so can i request blowing PB under his desk? 🤗

and then someone comes in like one of his coworkers and the whole time we’re under his desk (first time requesting anything btw 🙌)

Insatiable

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

CW: Smut, oral sex, deepthroat, anal fingering, cum eating, handjobs, dirty talk, pet names, established relationship, needy Patrick, overstimulation, teasing.

WORDS: ~1.2k

LINKS: [Masterlist], [AO3], [Wattpad].

A/N: Hiii! Thank you for sending me this request, I hope you enjoy it!💞

Insatiable.

This man was insatiable when it came to anything related to you because he was obsessed and it hurt him so much—his ego was bruised every time he had to call you and ask you to come to his office because he was about to cry from how much he needed you.

Right now, right here.

Under his desk, on your knees, your hands wrapped around his wide-open legs as your wet tongue flicked mercilessly around his red, leaking tip, causing him to desperately buck his hips toward your face, but you kept him at a distance, not wanting him to cum so soon.

No, you were just getting started.

"Oh, fuck," Patrick literally squirmed in his leather seat, his cheeks flushed, his perfectly styled hair now such a mess. "Faster, g-go…faster-ah-," his voice wavered as you gave his balls a tantalizing squeeze and licked his thick pre-cum from your own hand. "God…you're such a tease…kitten."

"Well, you've waited a long time for this," you replied mockingly, lapping at his tensed sac, only to hear him moan from the searing lust at his very core. "What's the point of rushing things… hmm?"

Grinning like a vixen, you stroked him deliberately, feeling his hot flesh throbbing in your hand, Bateman was so desperate for more and that only made things more appealing as you wanted to watch him fall apart, your eager mouth taking his dick deeper with a wet slurping sound.

A throaty moan fell from his half-open mouth—Patrick grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you closer, piercing your mouth like a fucking sword, your nose brushing against his pubic hair and you almost gagged, but he pretended not to notice.

"Holy s-shit," he spread his legs wider, fingers tangled deep in your messy hair. "You… you're so fucking good for me," the man closed his eyes and sprawled back in his seat, one hand gripping the armrest until his knuckles turned white. "So…fucking…good…"

Subtly, you seized the moment to trace your forefinger a little lower down his balls to tease his tight, puckered hole, causing his already rapid breathing to quicken. "Mmm…" you murmured around his drooling cock, feeling your throat burn from the impact he had done a moment ago, but the sight behind your eyes made you forget any pain, any discomfort. All you could think about was him and his laboring body about to explode in a vivid orgasm. "You like it so much when I touch you like this?" You asked, batting your eyelashes so innocently as if you were not playing with his asshole and making his legs shake visibly. "I want you to cum for me, baby," you teased him, lavishing little pecks on his perfect abs as both your hands worked to bring him to his climax. "Will you do it for me?"

Slowly, almost agonizingly, you resumed sucking on his hot, swollen head, noticing small pulsations coursing through his cock and you couldn't stop yourself from drawing a wet line along one of the veins throbbing back at your contact.

"I'm so close," Bateman managed to mutter. "So f-f-fucking-close," he looked down at you, his eyes hazy and slightly unfocused as he teetered on the brink of combustion. "Ohh-Christ…your mouth…mmm-my dick looks so good in…your mouth…"

A strong, almost violent shiver ran through his massive form as he arched his back, head tilted back, his overstimulated dick began to pulsate in your mouth, and then you stopped breathing for a moment, drinking in his warm, dense spurts of cum. For a second, you thought he'd never stop pumping your throat, but when the last muffled wail erupted from his heavily rising chest, you knew he was finally spent. Totally spent and satisfied. At least you hoped so.

"Good boy." You smirked and cleaned his seed from your fingers, your lips, your chin. Then you patted his legs, still wide open and shaking a little. "Next time I offer to help you with your morning wood, don't be stubborn so I don't have to come here and…"

A barely audible click of the door caught you both off guard and before you could react, Jean stepped into the office, her blonde hair shining in the daylight.

"Patrick," she said in a soft timbre, her embarrassment obvious and strong. "Your mother called and… I told her you were busy, but… she insisted that you call her back."

All the time Jean was talking, Patrick was forcing your head down, holding you there to keep you under the desk. At one point you even wanted to struggle back because your neck hurt from being restrained in such a position, but then you decided that it would be much worse to be exposed, so you had to endure anyway.

"Thank you, Jean," Bateman paused, licking his dry lips and brushing the sweat from his forehead. "I'll definitely give her a call," a nervous, almost maniacal smile spread across his face, his jaw aching from the tension. "You can go…for now."

With a shy nod, Jean turned around and her hand almost opened the door again, but then she stopped. "Are you… okay, Patrick?"

Her question hung in the air, you had to close your mouth to prevent any sounds from coming out as complete silence fell over the room. Anxiety struck you at the most inconvenient moment, you raised your concerned gaze to Patrick, but all he did was pull your head even lower, causing you to pinch the inside of his thigh quite painfully. But he withstood it, his face devoid of any emotion.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry," he babbled, his free hand trying to adjust his pants as discreetly as possible. "Today is pretty hot."

God, you almost wheezed.

"Shall I open the window?" Jean asked, graciously willing to help.

"No!" His voice suddenly cracked. "Don't worry…I can do it."

Confused, the woman surveyed the office one last time before she left, and God only knew what thoughts were running through her head. As the door closed with a soft clatter, Bateman let go of you and you instantly slapped his leg.

"Idiot!" you almost hit the desk with the top of your head, but you didn't care because you were on your way to get up. "I should never have come here, I-"

With a practiced move, Patrick grabbed you and pulled you against him, almost making you mount him, but you were stuck somewhere in the middle between him and the desk, his mouth cutting you off in the most lewd way possible as he kissed you hard, desperately, tasting himself on your lips.

Insatiable.

Because of you.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

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gothrite · 2 months ago

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I RLLY HOPE SOMEONE READS THIS LOL

Part One

The Salon.

It was a serene morning as I strolled through Central Park before heading to work. I had my Walkman on, enjoying Madonna's new release, "Like a Prayer." I had already listened to it several times since it came out. I felt the cool air brush against my skin. With two hours until work and an hour needed to get ready, I decided to cut my walk short. I took off my Walkman, letting the headphones rest around my neck, when I heard something—or someone—in the alleyway I had always disliked. Suddenly, I noticed a man emerge from behind a trash can, wearing leather gloves. When he caught sight of me, a nervous smile spread across his face.

“Oh… hello..” he waved, running his fingers through his hair, clearly out of breath. “Hello…” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, feeling more anxious. He stood there, hands on his hips, gazing down at something. “Well, you have a good day now,” he said, his tone more measured, as if he were trying to get rid of me.

I kept walking, unsure of what he was up to, and I had no intention of finding out. When I finally got home, I took a warm shower to calm my mind. But what was that man doing? Why did he keep glancing behind the garbage can? I was curious, but I’d have to wait until work was over to figure it out.

At work, I was busy restocking our new shampoos and organizing the shelves. I work at the salon on Broadway as the receptionist—essentially, the person who's always restocking things. Just kidding, but it often feels that way. As I stood on a stool to place the last few bottles, the door chimed open. “I’ll be right with you!” I called out without looking to see who had entered.

I stepped down from the stool, letting out a small sigh before turning around. It was him. I couldn’t tell if he had followed me or if he was a regular. Yuppies often frequented this salon, as it was considered the best in New York City.

I quickly put on a smile. “If you have an appointment, you can just sign in here, and I’ll call Lisa.” I smiled softly at him. He smiled back and signed the check-in sheet before moving to the seats across from me, picking up a modeling magazine. He positioned himself so he could still see me. I felt a bit uncomfortable, sensing his gaze on me, but I tried to ignore it. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke up.

"I don't want to come across as simplistic, but you are genuinely breathtaking."

I looked up quickly at his words, my heart racing. Was he serious, or was he just teasing me..? I let out a shy laugh. “Oh… thank you,” I replied softly. He set the magazine down on the seat beside him and approached the front desk. “No, seriously,” he said, gesturing dismissively behind him, “you could effortlessly grace the cover of one of those magazines.”

I looked down, too anxious to meet his gaze. “Thank you…” I whispered, attempting to conceal my smile. He leaned against the desk, looking down at me with an amused expression. “Oh, don’t be shy. I promise, I don’t bite,” he said, flashing a confident smile. She nervously bit her lip, fiddling with the pen between her fingers. Then he spoke up again.

“Pat,” he began, his tone smooth and deliberate. “The name's Pat Bateman.”

She looked up, nodding with a gentle smile. “I’m (y/n)…(y/n) Kuzniv.” He smiled and nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Beautiful,” he said, effortlessly shifting the subject. “Listen, when do you get off work?”

She glanced down at her watch. “Well, I finish my shift at 5, but sometimes I stick around a bit longer to help out if they need it. It can get pretty busy, you know?” She shrugged slightly.

He glanced at his Rolex, noting it was 3 PM—just two more hours. “Well, forget that. It’s not your responsibility to hang around after your shift ends,” he said, his tone smooth and persuasive. “How about joining me for dinner tonight?” She was taken aback when he invited her to dinner. Unsure of how to respond, she said, “Oh I’m not sure.. I have to get up early tomorrow…”

He gestured dismissively, “Come on, I won’t keep you out late…” He paused, letting the anticipation build. “I was thinking Dorsia.” She looked up at the mention of Dorsia. There was no doubt in her mind that he could secure a reservation, but uncertainty lingered. After a moment of hesitation and his persistent persuasion, she finally relented.

“Okay, I’ll go to dinner with you..” she smiled softly. Patrick smiled, a calculating glint in his eyes. “Perfect.” He ripped a piece of paper from the sign-in sheet, writing with deliberate precision. “Here’s my address. We’ll have drinks before our 7 o’clock reservations.” His smile widened, exuding a confidence that was almost unsettling.

Just then, Lisa emerged to bring Patrick for his grooming. She snatched the paper from the desk, glancing down at the address. The upscale apartment buildings didn’t surprise her.

After work, she rushed home to prepare. After a shower, she sat at her vanity, applying cleansers and makeup while wrapped in a towel and sporting hair rollers. A CD played softly in the background as she applied dark red lipstick and slipped into a black Chanel dress—one she had splurged on with her college savings, now regretting that choice.

It was her first time wearing it, saved for something special. She pulled on black pantyhose, the dress hugging her curves perfectly, and adorned herself with her favorite silver heart necklace and sleek black heels. After releasing her hair from the rollers, it cascaded down her shoulders in a stylish blowout. She spritzed on her most expensive perfume and glanced at the clock.

Perfect. It was 6:40, and she still had time to catch a cab to his place. Grabbing her long black coat and bag, she turned off the music and stepped out of her apartment.

umm im uploading this on tumblr bc ao3 needs to verify u through an invite and im impatient lol this was bad but WHATEVER

#patrick bateman #x reader #patrick bateman x reader #male violence #misogyny #18+ mdni #american psycho #christian bale #fanfic #smut #category: f/m

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s8tnn · 3 months ago

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patrick bateman icons pt.1

like or reblog if you use these and no reposts please 💕

tap here to request

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hyunjin-amore · 11 months ago

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Masterlist 2

Recent work

One piece

Luffy

A Love as Strong as the Sea

Marvel

Slashers

Billy Loomis

Unraveling the Mystery of the Dark Trio's Reign

Stu Macher

Unraveling the Mystery pf the Dark Trio's Reign

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nouearth · 1 year ago

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an internship at wayne interprises. (part ii)

bruce wayne x male reader headcanons

part i.

warnings: smut, age gap, bottom reader, breeding, virgin!reader, top!bruce, established relationship, lowkey kind of fluffy, bruce is falling in love.

a/n: aaaand it's finally here! i hope you all enjoy the long awaited part two! i was watching american psycho recently and bruh, i forgot how hot he looked in it. like. i want to run my tongue all over him.

—as intimidating as bruce was, he never found the courage, or time really, to isolate you from your responsibilities.

—was it cowardliness that he was faced with? or was it that returning feeling that churned in his stomach, swelled in his chest, until it made him rethink the thoughts he’s had of you?

—guilt. he never felt it when he was jerking off to your pictures, which have become a daily routine now.

—but it returned in powerful marches, ached at the center of his heart, ridiculing him for thinking about his employee in such a crude, exploitive way.

—he always felt it when he saw you first thing in the morning, working quietly, mindlessly as your body had begun to become used to the caffeine.

—like wind chimes, you moved around people - around the wind - not with them, as you made your way to the break room.

—three packets of sugar and two spoons of creamer normally kept you awake, but the frozen pocket pizza in the toaster oven was the real source of your energy.

—bruce winced as he silently watched you from afar. you yawned, rubbed your eyes as the heat from the toaster oven warmed the surrounding area.

—jesus, no wonder you’re always so tired. look at the shit you’re eating.

—the march of soldiers, rioting against guilt, roared, and he was reminded of his privilege immediately after. a butler that had been providing him three nutritious meals a day since birth, and a garden of wealth that allowed him to afford a home gym with the best equipment; it was all handed to him and while he did his best to give back to the city, it was never enough to pacify the war zone of his chest. he was a person, a wealthy person, but a person nonetheless.

—you were a person.

—though ironically enough, he came to the the image of you hungrily licking the grease off your fingers when you were finished with breakfast later that night.

—there was always something new about you that he would fixate on when his hand met his cock, stroking it with a glorious amount of lube until it dried.

—though he never fretted, because your lips, your face, your nose - everything about you - milked him until the fresh stock of cum had become the only slime that layered his softening erection.

—like bruce’s nights, you’ve begun infiltrating the routine of his mornings now.

—or rather, bruce began infiltrating yours after he visited you in the break room for the first time.

—good morning, mister wayne…

—oh, new intern, right? your name was…?

—he always feigned his disinterest because he liked hearing your name come out of your handsome mouth.

—(m/n), sir…

—it sounded beautiful. the softness of your voice kindled a tenderness in bruce and it could’ve cradled him to sleep had the coffee from the break room not been so disgusting and cheap.

—the third time, he memorized the pattern you spoke in. your voice always trailed off at the end of a sentence as if it had been stolen by a criminal.

—it’s (m/n), sir…

—he wished he could be that somebody.

—the fifth time, he’d gotten used to the watery aftertaste of the coffee.

—wait, don’t tell me. your name rhymes with…

—and when you laughed because bruce was completely off by a mile, he saw a glimpse of your soul that had been sheltered by intimidation and anxiety.

—he learned he wanted to become a part of your life when he took you out for lunch.

—long overdue, but i usually take my interns out for lunch.

—bruce usually didn’t.

—oh—mister wayne, i don’t think that’s necessary… i already packed lunch.

—great! you don’t have to pack for tomorrow then.

—wait, but i haven’t set up the meeting with—

—i’ll get someone on it—already made reservations, c’mon.

—he’d learned so much about you that day, then the following, and the next; your upbringing, your hopes and dreams, your downfalls, it felt like he was walking on water with the way you willingly opened more of yourself every consecutive day.

—he could listen to you talk for hours, become poisoned by it if your voice was liquid, and bruce accepted that risk when he made another routine to invite you for lunch.

—previous nights were as followed: he stroked his cock to you, breathing heavily into the memory of your cologne, the wrinkles of your shirt, the curl of your lips when he made a joke.

—since he’d gotten to know you as more than a stained selfie, more than the meek statue that stood in the corner; instead of feeding himself with the thoughts of you that derived from pure lust, the reality of his nights had shifted.

—he stroked himself, that never changed. but he closed his eyes, breathing until he could see the ghost of you by his side.

—your shared bodies tensed into one another as his body curved forward into the arc of your back when he pushed in for the first time. you reached back to hold his thigh, pausing his thrusts because you needed to adjust, because you wanted to feel all of him in complete comfort.

—it was intimacy.

—it only melted - your body - when bruce kissed the shell of your ear, telling you that he’ll continue once you were ready. you let him in, sprouted for him like a bud in spring, and felt all of him swell larger inside of you with a whimper.

—it was vulnerability.

—he made sure you were touched, palming your erection as he rocked his own into your bud. from the nape of your neck to the hill of your back, he blessed you in the wet of his mouth, battling the sweat that had gathered on your body to see who would claim the vacancy of your body.

—he made sure to make you feel safe, drowning you in affection with his low voice, with the bridge that had constructed between your soul and his as he thrusted deeper, connected into you when he pressed into a spot that had the heavy air memorize every letter of bruce’s name.

—and finally crossed when he filled you with all of his endearment towards you, heavy and thick in combative sequence. he never pulled away in fret of losing the sentiment—in fret of losing you.

—it was love.

—from then on, bruce was devoted to melt the frost that had shielded you, just as you had melted his.

—because he was going to protect you now.

—the guilt that had been egging the shelter of his heart wilted in the pit of his stomach when he kissed you for the first time.

—and then completely died when you kissed him back.

—your arms were around his neck, and his were around your waist. you and bruce slow danced to the tune of his favorite song, in the middle of his living room, and so did your lips when he leaned in again.

—it never progressed further than that, despite the ache in bruce’s pants yelling at him to. he wanted to savor every moment with you, in case he happened to chase you away like he did with the others.

—you were special, and bruce held you like the rarest gem on earth for the first time that night.

—again, when he visited you in mornings to drive you to work.

—again, on nights where you were too tired to drive back to your apartment.

—again, after morning meetings were over and every businessmen and women left the vicinity upon the announcement of food catering a few floors down.

—and then again, when bruce’s thoughts had become a reality.

—b-bruce, ngh…

—you reached back to his thigh like in his thoughts, carefully maneuvering and pacing his thrusts into you. your breath stained deep into the cover of his pillow when bruce applied his weight into you, fitting his broad body to the dip of your back.

—i got you, hm? —nice and slow…

—his voice tickled your nape, soothing it with chaste kisses when your muscles tensed, and you breathed harder into the pillow when you let his thigh go, freeing him to do as he pleased. the warmth of your breath fogged your skin as his girth opened you to a profound feeling you’ve been too intimidated to discover

—faster, please…

—he was humored, not because you were embarrassing like the flush of your skin thought, but because you were still the same person he’d met months ago, appeased by it. you were calmed by an assurance, a kiss to your shoulder then your lips, yet your body only continued to bloom with roses.

—you’re still so polite even when we’ve done so many things together…

—bruce pressed deeper into you, panting in your ear as he delivered on your timid demands. he knew you now—read you like a book. you were too afraid to ask for anything despite becoming so vulnerable with each other, and he made sure that you were safe with him.

—your requests were silent sans the moans that have escaped, but he heard every single one of them. his hips drove into you harder for a few rhythms, then excruciating slower to coerce a plea out of you—to pull your beautiful moans along with desperation.

—he wanted to hear you, pulling himself completely out of your bud.

—f-fuuuuck, bruce! please—i need you, please.

—more, he needed to hear you want him as much as he’d been wanting you. his arms wrapped around your waist, and his fingers curled over your cock. it provided a friction, a hole for you to press into as his fist was sandwiched between your body and the bed, and you took the opportunity to desperately thrust into it.

—secretly, you’d hope to thrust yourself back onto his cock.

—but again, he knew you; silently observant and logical, and he raised his hips back, avoiding the desperate grinds of your bottom.

—how badly do you need me, hm? —how bad do you want me?

—bruce needed to hear it, to compel a truth to his prophecy. his hand unwrapped around you and you were left desperately grinding into the soft fabric of his sheets with a whine. they were music to his ears, and the drips of his cock dribbled over the curve of your bottom as if they were notes to a stave, to the sound of your torment.

—i-i need you, please…

—he exhaled.

—so bad.

—he gulped.

—so fucking bad…

—he throbbed.

—mister wayne… —please…

—bruce’s two worlds had collided: his previous thoughts of you rocketed into the current with a cloudy explosion, and he succumbed. you looked back at him with glassy orbs, sweat running down the side of your face, and bruce was overwhelmed by the beauty our deepest desires. how quickly it could destroy the barrier that we’ve built, how quickly he could destroy yours and unfurl your vulnerabilities when he finally drove himself back in one long and smooth thrust.

—f-fuuuuck...

—it was continuous. you wouldn’t admit it, but he knew you preferred being filled like this. he notified the curl of your fingers, clutching at whatever you could to fulfill the aching need to grasp onto something.

—god—

—hard when bruce came down, but slow and affectionate when he pulled out. you felt every thick inch sliding in and out of you. at times, you would purposely tighten in fear of losing bruce, but his thrusts reminded you that you wouldn’t.

—bruce reminded you again when his lips suckled on your shoulder.

—i’m close, (m/n)…

—when his hand stroked your aching cock.

—m-me too…

—and when bruce pushed all of his sweaty weight onto you with one hard thrust.

—shit, shit—

—the boiling feeling in his stomach unfurled inside of you to release his devotion in heavy, white loads. they filled you with heat, spreading thick within you as bruce slowly rocked himself weakly, squeezing every ounce of his love into you until you could feel it yourself.

—bruce—

—your eyes rolled back and you could feel the thick of his cum dripping out of you and down your legs the more he plunged into your hole, and it didn’t take very long for you to come undone yourself. the seam of your mouth kept your moans contained as you blasted bruce’s fist and the sheets with your affection, and it wasn’t until his hand came down to pump you that you exhaled a staggered, breathless groan. the drips came out heavy, sticky, and you rocked into bruce’s fist until they spread themselves thin onto your pelvis, over your cock, and stained deep into the sheets.

—as you both lay breathless, bruce remained on top, puzzled into you as he found comfort in your muscles loosening like the flaccid of your length. he continued playing with your soft flesh, squeezing and spreading the layer of seed that covered his hand, and chuckled when you silently squirmed.

—not away from him like he’d thought, but back into him.

—because he was your guardian now.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x male reader #nou.fics #bruce wayne smut

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