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makeyoumine69 · 3 months ago

Note

Hii,

if it's not to much to ask could you maybe write period sex for a gn reader? Something sweet and comforting T-T

Thank you so much, and I hope you know your writing is amazing!

Shape of You

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

CW: Smut, hurt/comfort, fluff, period sex, masturbation (reader receiving), body worship, blood kink, sweet dirty talk, pet names, finger sucking, established relationship, needy Patrick.

SONG REC: Fame on Fire—Shape of You (Rock Cover)

WORDS: ~2.5k

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

A/N: Hello nonnie! I hope you like this little piece of writing, I enjoyed every second of working on it!💞 For this fic, I used ax divider by @paintology-the-alien

Starting your period usually sucked, but starting your period at Bateman's apartment felt even worse because you didn't know how he would react if you told him there would be no sex tonight. Would he be angry or even sad? Probably all of that, but the worst part was that the two of you were supposed to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You had wanted to go there for a long time, but Patrick had never been able to find the time. And today, when he finally arranged this "weird date," as he called it, you started having your period and the cramps in your stomach made you curl up on his bed, helplessly clutching a pillow. You didn't even think about how long you'd been lying there, you didn't even have the energy to get up and take some painkillers, all you could think about was how mad and angry Bateman would be when he came home and saw you like this. It was pretty obvious that you wouldn't be able to go out today, not even a chance.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, it became quite dark in the bedroom, the dim light lulling you into a sweet nap that you had been craving all day, considering that in your dream you could finally get some rest from the nagging pain that was making you quite tired.

A soft, almost gentle touch on the top of your head woke you up almost immediately. Blinking in confusion, you looked up to see your lover's beautiful face, and you couldn't really stop yourself from pressing your palm against his cheek. Patrick smiled and let out a sound that was somewhere between a short chuckle and a purr.

"Mmh..." you giggled, watching his plush lips curl at your touch, and tried to pinch his chin, but he caught your hand with ease. "Patty..."

"What's the matter, my sleeping beauty?" He brought your small palm closer, only to leave a light peck on it. "Are you ready for our...little trip into the world of art?"

Rolling your eyes at his feeble attempt to needle you, you sat on your knees, still holding a pillow with your free hand. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can make it to the museum today."

Bateman stopped for a moment. "What? Why not? Did something happen in my absence?"

"No," you replied curtly, the way he instantly panicked and worried melted your heart. "I just..." you looked down, desperately trying to find the right words to describe your condition. But in the end, it was best to call a spade a spade. "I've started my period, and I've got cramps so fucking severe that I can't even get out of bed."

"Too bad." Was all he said before he leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your cheek and your nose. It was only when he had finished showering your face with little pecks that he finally found your lips and gently pulled you closer, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. The kiss was slow at first, but then evolved into something more demanding as you responded, letting your tongues slide along each other in a lustful dance. "Did you take some pills? Painkillers?"

You shook your head, causing Patrick to tsk in frustration.

"I'll bring you... something then," with that he strolled across the bedroom to disappear around the corner to the bathroom. The man returned in a minute, holding a jar of pills and a bottle of Eveian water. "This is ibuprofen, it'll help."

"Thank you doctor," you chirped and took a pill while Patrick opened a bottle for you, holding it all the way while you drank. "I'm sorry for ruining our plans...I hope you're not mad at me."

Grinning in delight, Patrick brushed the stray curls from your face. "No, I'm not mad at all. Besides, it was you who wanted to go to the museum so badly, so I think of the two of us, you should be the one who's sad that we're not going there."

"Right..."

Slowly, Bateman unbuttoned his jacket and carefully placed it on the bed, where he found your small sketchbook, which he almost immediately picked up with undisguised interest.

"So this is what you were doing while I was at work?" He asked, flipping through the pages and admiring your little sketches. "Mmm...nice anatomy...that looks really nice. Not bad at all."

Slightly embarrassed, you let out an awkward chuckle and turned away, for some reason you didn't want to see him looking through your sketchbook. "Well, thanks for the compliment...I guess?" You wanted to say something else, but instead you could only stifle a groan of pain as another nagging cramp shot through you. "Oh...fuck...I hate it so much."

Seeing you writhing in pain, Bateman closed the sketchbook and put it back on the bed, you didn't even understand what he was about to do, but as he picked you up and carried you bridal style, you hugged his neck and dared to ask a question.

"Where are we going?"

"To the bathroom," the man replied with radiant confidence, as if he had done it so many times before. But what exactly was he going to do? "A warm bath will help ease your pain, honey. Trust me."

Frowning, you couldn't help thinking that you probably weren't the first partner he'd had who suffered from a painful period, but when you finally entered the bathroom and he put you down on the floor, his hands already working on removing your top and shorts, you forgot about everything. Because the past should be in the past, right?

When Patrick finished undressing you, he quickly turned on the faucet of the bathtub and the water flowed down with a pleasant sound.

"God, you're so pretty," Bateman murmured suddenly, planting a loving kiss on your shoulder, then bending forward to burrow his nose into your hair; you were glad you'd showered several times already today, because you felt nervous and uncomfortable being intimate with him when your period started. "I think I know more ways to help you with your pain."

There was something playful in his voice, something that made your knees weak and if he did not hold you, you would probably end up splattered on the floor.

"Get in the bath, kitten," he whispered in your ear, his lips teasing the lobe almost imperceptibly. "Want to try some new soaps I got?" Patrick asked, pulling up the sleeves of his blue cotton shirt.

You obeyed and took your place in the warm tub, it felt heavenly. "Would you allow me to use them? I can't believe it."

"Today," the man sat on the edge of the tub and took a washcloth to soak it in water, then he grabbed the freshly purchased L'Occitane liquid soap. "I'll make an exception." The man poured a handful onto the washcloth and began scrubbing your back so gently you didn't even feel it. As his free hand slid down your chest, you gasped, feeling a building tension at your core. "Spread your legs."

Oh, shit.

You barely held back a curse, but did as he said anyway, feeling completely at his mercy, and of course he liked it, you knew it as the moment you parted your legs his large palm slid between them, pressing a washcloth and gently rubbing your sensitive spot in a circular motion.

"Mmmh," you closed your eyes and leaned against the marble rim of the tub. "That..."

"Feels good?"

"Absolutely," you replied, letting him have better access to your most sensitive places, his fingers busy touching your throbbing flesh as the washcloth was already forgotten. Shaking, you opened your eyes when he grabbed your neck, not roughly, but quite possessively. "You have very interesting ways...to ease the pain?"

Bateman didn't say anything, just smiled and turned you to look up at him. "I want you to look right at me while I work on this little sweet spot of yours," he wrapped your throat a little tighter, making you gasp, but his mouth silenced any sounds you tried to make. "You like it when I take care of you, darling?"

You nodded as desperately as you could as Patrick slid one of his long fingers inside you, curling it just the way you always liked it. "Ahhh…Pat-Patrick…mhmm!"

"Just look at me," he cooed, brushing his lips against yours, ready to drink in your every little moan, adding another finger, causing your inner muscles to cling to his digits like a vine. "Just like that, my little plaything...just like that."

The eye contact, the sweet dirty talk, the way his fingers moved inside of you—it all drove you crazy, you were afraid of splashing the water out of the tub or on his expensive clothes, but as the man pressed your wet body closer to him, you knew you had both already lost your minds, together.

Catching his hand between your thighs, you made him stop for a second, Patrick curled his eyebrows in a silent question, but you used your mouth as the most eloquent answer, kissing him hard on the lips, spurring him to grab your neck even tighter as he was burning from the inside, as if the blood was boiling in his veins. God, he wanted you so fucking bad.

"Come here," you uttered after tugging at his lower lip. "Please..."

Breathing heavily, Bateman released your neck and stood up quickly to remove his tie, shirt, belt, pants...

He did it so fast that you didn't even notice how he took a place behind you in the tub, it felt like he had been here from the beginning, his hard dick pressed against your ass, throbbing at the contact, but the man was focused on you, even when he noticed the tiny crimson pools of blood in the waster, he managed to fight his urge to fuck you here and now. After all, this was about you, not him.

Wrapping his strong arms around you again, he explored your body so agonizingly slowly that you were about to scream with need, each touch calculated to set every nerve end in your system on fire. With your heavy lidded eyes you looked back at him, embraced his neck and without saying a word you quickly got up to mount him, making his thick cock draw between your legs, the friction causing his jaw to clench from the tension in his balls.

With a sly grin, you ran a finger along his parted lips, and before you knew it, Bateman had it in his mouth, sucking on it as if his life depended on it, while his hips idly bucked in a most shamelessly suggestive manner.

"Look at you," you whispered, pushing his finger deeper. "I didn't know blood could turn you on like this."

Patrick moaned as you rubbed your crotch against his, you were as close to falling apart as he was, though you tried to regain some control, not really realizing that you were in the lead now only because HE allowed you to be.

With a graceful move, you took his engorged cock to give it a few strokes before aligning it with your entrance to slowly take it in as you lowered your hips onto his.

"A-awww, fuck," you clawed at his shoulders from how full he made you feel, his hands already holding your waist in a tight ring as you bobbed up and then slowly down, savoring every inch of his girth that stretched you so deliciously. "I love you...I love you so f-fucking much."

Throwing his head back, Patrick barely kept himself from exploding inside you, the warmth and tightness of your inner channel making it so fucking hard for him to hold out any longer, but he did his best for you.

"Ohhh, shit, you're... you're so tight-mmmh," Bateman groaned, his hands digging into the skin of your hips as you picked up the pace, literally bouncing on his dick. "I'm...I'm gonna fill you so...fucking...deep!"

Moan after loud moan, water spilling onto the floor from your feverish movements, the obscene sounds of your bodies colliding against each other drowning out all other sounds as for a moment you thought your heart would pop out of your chest. It was beating so fast that you could hear your pulse drumming in your ears.

"Fuck....I'm cumming...Goshhh," you snuggled into his brawny frame, your hands squeezing his buff biceps as you clenched around him, milking his dick so he would follow suit, erupting inside of you, pumping you with the tight ropes of cum. "Patrick..."

You rested your head on his shoulder, he was still shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm, his muscles slowly relaxing under your touch. Patrick couldn't even say a word, his eyes closed and his face, chest and neck flushed red. You couldn't even find the right words to describe how much you loved seeing him like that, vulnerable as he was coming down from his high. The way he was always blushing during sex was your special kink.

After a while, the two of you were lying on the bed, wearing designer robes and discussing how you would visit the museum the next weekend. All the while, you were finishing your latest sketch when you suddenly remembered a fresh sketch you finished today. As you flipped through the pages, you landed on Bateman's chest and brushed his wet bangs.

"You know, if you kept leafing through my sketchbook, you would find this," you showed him the sketch of the tall, muscular man with a skipping rope, in which Patrick recognized himself almost immediately, but he remained silent. "What do you think?"

Humming, the man looked at you, then at the sketch, then back at you. "So you're stalking me while I'm working out?"

"What?" You jokingly punched him in the chest. "I... I don't stalk..."

"Well, I don't mind," he cut you off, grabbing the sketchbook out of your hands. "But I think I look a lot better in real life," Bateman pointed at the sketch as if he were an art critic. "You see, my body is much more ripped, and my chest muscles are much more... toned."

You shook your head, on the verge of laughing. "Of course, you are such a work of art yourself. No one can capture you as perfectly as you really are."

For a moment you thought your words might offend him as his face turned serious, his lips tightened into a thin line, but then you both burst out laughing. Ultimately, you didn't need to praise him all the time, because he was perfect just the way he was, and you knew that better than anyone else in the world.