#patrick bateman fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

makeyoumine69 · 5 months ago

Text

My Lovely Detective VI

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

— CONTAINS: Dub-con smut, accidental voyeurism, fingering, choking, blow jobs, manhandling, degradation, dirty talk, pet names.

— WORDS: 2.4k

— A/N: Hello dear readers, here's a new chapter! We hope you enjoy it and please feel free to share your opinions with us! Big hugs

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Loosing Myself

Nothing had ever stopped Patrick from getting exactly what he wanted; the little boy who had always owned every new shiny toy and whose pets had disappeared under mysterious circumstances had long since become a man who now bathed in the shallow pleasures of endless luxury, drugs, sex...

It was true that most women only slept with him for the power of money, a purely transactional affair, or in the hope of siphoning off his wealth and status. 'Although that's not to say that these sharp features and the size of my cock don't help in attracting these whores,' Bateman mused briefly, his hand running down his flat stomach and stroking his hardening length in self-indulgent fascination.

"No" doesn't exist in his world, because "yes" is usually just a matter of payment, and so he finds a certain satisfaction in taking what wasn't even part of the deal. Those materialistic sluts screaming underneath him, realizing that they made a miscalculation, that he will rip and rape their bodies, because nothing is worth anything to him anymore, and death is the real price of a night with him. No woman has ever come close enough (or lived long enough) to know the real Patrick Bateman. But Andrea, who he kidnapped and brutalized, and who was now begging him to fuck her...

'Is she losing it? Are there now two lunatics living on the 11th floor of the American Gardens building?'

"You're a stupid fucking bitch," Patrick groaned, confused and yet aroused by the desperation in her voice, her body writhing and shaking with what seemed to be a serious need for him. "I guess I already fucked your brain out, Detective," he muttered, emphasizing her profession with a certain mockery as his hand wandered between her legs. She was so wet that his fingers slid effortlessly into her this time and Patrick couldn't help but laugh in disbelief.

"You really are a dirty, filthy whore to me," he realized as Andrea took one finger after another inside her, more than ready for him, but now of all times he was dragging things out. All this in spite of the fact that Patrick was aching for her at this very moment, rubbing his erection against the silk sheets to take the edge off.

He was creating a special kind of torture for both of them with the way his thumb kept teasing her clit, his mouth instead attacking the sensitive area around her inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses on the plump flesh. Andrea's skin was so warm to his touch, a heat that radiated not only from her body but also from the look in her eyes as she met Patrick's gaze.

"Not satisfied with my fingers, huh? Then I need you to be more specific. I need you to tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you."

No, that was not her, it was simply not possible. Andrea, she always knew, wouldn't act like a fucking whore in heat, but... but what if that Andrea was already gone? Lost in the chaos of pain, filth and depravity?

"Ah," the woman gasped as Bateman pulled her hips toward his groin, the leaking head of his cock slipping teasingly between her pussy lips, now so swollen they literally blossomed with arousal. "I want...I want to feel you deep inside me...all of you-aahhh!"

The moment Patrick began to thrust his hips against her rear, all of her insides were already on fire, it was like a fucking torture to be stuck in the middle between being so empty and so full.

Whimpering, Andrea wanted to bite the blanket to stop herself from crying. Although her pathetic condition could be seen in the mirror on the other side of the bedroom. "Please, just, take me," the woman turned to face him, his prominent eyebrows knitted together as the man was so focused on the process before his hazel eyes; the sight of Andrea's moist, tight cunt enveloping his veiny dick with such eagerness. "Patrick, mmm-Patrick!"

Did she just moan his name? Did she? Or was that not her?

Trapped in her own internal conflict, the Detective fell limp on the sheets under the weight of Bateman's muscles, and that one move gave him the perfect opportunity to bury himself as deep as he could until his balls began to slap her curvy butt.

A low, almost animalistic grunt erupted from the man's chest as he thrust into her, then again and again. Each time was harder and more savage, Andrea had to push the fabric of the covers into her mouth, using it as a gag, her pussy struggling to take him all in, even though it was quite difficult.

"Mmhm," she murmured, almost screaming, while her hands raked around the bed, not knowing what to grab on to, but the next second Patrick fixated them in front of her face and lowered himself even closer to her, so that now his hot breath fanned around her neck, scorching her tender skin. "Big...so big, a-awww." Andrea convulsed several times as the man grabbed her hair with no mercy, forcing her to look up at him.

Those dark eyes, they were the eyes of the devil, nothing more, nothing less.

It had been days since Detective Donald Kimball had last heard from his assistant, and considering her last assignment had been the interrogation of Patrick Bateman, it was obvious what must have happened.

Now Kimball had to admit it to himself—letting her go alone had been a miscalculation. He had simply assumed that Bateman would be more rational.

Because even though the serial killer had taken the trouble to cover his tracks this time, Kimball knew where to look first.

He had been skulking around the American Garden building for days, fully expecting not to be greeted with a single sign of life from Miss Moore. He was ready to expose Bateman for what seemed to have cost his colleague his life - until he saw Andrea Moore through the window.

Very compromising, not well, but obviously alive.

For some reason, Bateman must have taken a liking to her, because why else hadn't he killed the woman who was sitting next to him like a ticking time bomb?

Was this man just waiting for his luck to run out? Was he longing for Kimball's punishment?

Which he could have given to Bateman.

He should have called for backup to storm the apartment immediately.

But after 20 years of service, he was motivated by more than honor and a handshake. The government paycheck didn't reflect his excellent work, Kimball had decided.

Just as Kimball was about to leave this place, tired of wasting his time just looking at the motionless female body on Bateman's big bed, an owner of that luxury apartment appeared in the detective's vision. Patrick, naked in all his glory, moved slowly toward Andrea, who was still lying on the bed, probably unconscious. And only then did Kimball understand what all this could mean—Bateman had finally found his perfect little doll, or rather, a helpless slave.

For a moment, the man put down his binoculars, wondering if he really wanted to know what was about to happen. With a sigh, Kimball let curiosity take over, and now he was back to watching the couple, who were completely unaware of a sudden onlooker. But even if Bateman knew, he would probably enjoy it. Why had Kimball thought of this? Maybe because of the big camera that was right in front of the king-size bed, the sheets of which were so white that it was painful to look at them.

As in the pornographic movies that were quite popular these days, Patrick positioned himself over the dark-haired woman and gripped her neck hard enough to bruise, Donald could swear he could hear her shaky gasping next to him. Was he going to kill her afterwards? At some point, the detective couldn't believe that his assistant had been here all this time. The train of thought distracted him for a moment, but when he returned to the lewd performance, the man almost dropped the binoculars from the way Andrea was sucking Bateman's huge cock as if her life depended on it. But maybe it was?

Too many questions and no answers. Too much depravity and literally no shame in their movements, it all looked like they had done it so many times before. Patrick's tight grip on the back of her head, urging her to go faster, to take him deeper, until she felt the scratch in her throat, until his cum dripped from her luscious lips and down her chin.

There was something about the way Bateman bent her neck so their lips could meet, oblivious to the taste of his own release, perhaps even turned on by it. About Andrea pressing her soft body so willingly against Bateman's defined abdomen. And if Bateman had ever harbored violent urges toward Miss Moore, now was clearly not the time to convince her; they both sank back onto the white sheets, his broad shoulders almost completely blocking the view of her smaller frame to the voyeuristic eye of Detective Donald Kimball.

Andrea's legs wrapped around Bateman's surprisingly slender waist, clinging to him as if he might disappear forever if she didn't. Their bodies turned, and if this was a fight, it had to be a very passionate one...

Bateman's hand all over her, on her face, her waist, her backside.

Kimball couldn't help but make an embarrassing noise, fortunately only audible to his own ears, and he gripped the binoculars tighter in response.

He would never have expected this from a woman who dressed so conservatively every day. What surprised him even more was how a man like Bateman could be so enraptured by a single tantalizing, if not a little trashy, tattoo.

Massaging the inked skin and kissing his way lower between her legs...

Kimball couldn't say he fully understood what was going on between them, at least psychologically, because the physical attraction was clear to him even from this distance. It was evident in the way Bateman buried his head deeper between her legs, grinding against the sheets, and Andrea's body convulsed and shook with undisguised pleasure.

And Kimball felt relief of a different kind wash over him - for now there was a way for his depraved mind to justify the next step: A private offer Mr. Bateman couldn't refuse.

How many days have passed? Andrea could never know, since she was imprisoned in a golden cage on the 11th floor of the American Gardens Building. The apathy seemed to reach its limits, and the woman even began to refuse to eat, shower, or even leave Bateman's bedroom, hiding under the covers like a frightened animal. Such an attitude only made Patrick more cruel and brutal, Andrea's skin was like a canvas for his marks, such as bruises, scratches or even bites, which he left each time they fucked, but he always took care of them meticulously, applying some balm and bandage.

Why couldn't he just let her die? Why did he keep dragging her out of bed day after day to give her a bath, as if she were his dear pet that he loved to take care of? Well, maybe she really was? The meals Patrick gave her were extremely nutritious and healthy, they were deliciously cooked, but Andrea could never really enjoy their taste. Colors seemed to leave her current life as well as her former self. She was like an empty, broken phial, and all of Bateman's attempts to fill it up were unsuccessful, to say the least; the fact that he was possessively pumping her with his seed didn't count. Though, it was a fucking miracle that the woman hadn't gotten pregnant yet.

'If I'm really stuck here forever, there's only one way out,' Andrea thought to herself as she watched Bateman cutting an apple for her in the kitchen, the knife so sharp that Patrick didn't even have to use any pressure to cut the fruit. 'I should try to kill him,' she jerked away as the man appeared in front of the kitchen island and offered her a slice of apple with a wicked glint in his hazel eyes.

"I'm not hungry," Andrea muttered, turning away and crossing her arms. The only thing she could think about now, besides the constant plotting of her possible escape, was the upcoming party Bateman was going to take her to. Even though she still couldn't believe that he was actually going to let her go out with him. It was so weird. "Am I really going with you? Or it's just another evil joke?"

There was an undisguised challenge in Andrea's voice that only fueled Bateman's interest in her. This woman was like an unruly element, a force he wanted to tame so badly, and he knew that one day he would eventually do it.

"No jokes, honey," Patrick sneered, leaning against the kitchen counter, the apple slice still in his hand. "But," the man suddenly straightened up and walked around the corner to get even closer to Andrea. "This is not an ordinary party, this is a special one."

"Special?"

Smirking haughtily, the man stopped right next to her, his one hand already finding a place on her shoulder, kneading it in a relaxing way, but it only made her more nervous. "Yes, it's hosted by one of my friends from Wall Street," his soft baritone echoed off the walls, creating a strangely hypnotic vibe. "I'm sure you'll like it."

With a devilish grin, Patrick quickly popped the apple slice into his mouth before drawing close to Andrea's face and in the next second, their lips collided in a sweet but possessive kiss. The fruit was so tasty and soft that its juice spilled out and ran down the woman's chin and neck. Holding her in place with his strong arm, Bateman pulled away only to catch the small drops of sugary fluid running down her soft skin, causing Andrea to shiver, but she managed to stifle a moan.

"Does your friend know what you've done?" She asked quietly, her head tilted to the side, and even though his touch was pleasurable, there was no way she was going to show it to him.

"And what have I done?" He replied, locking his tantalizing gaze with hers. "I just claimed what was mine, don't you think?"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x oc #patrick bateman x fem!oc #slasher x oc #patrick bateman fanfiction #patrick bateman x reader

71 notes · View notes

renata-has-thoughts · 2 years ago

Text

W/c: 2.2k Pairing: Dom fem Reader x Sub P.Bateman Includes: PLEASE READ!!! Dubcon, very dominant reader, physical assault, blood play, blood drinking, scratching, degradation, riding, p in v, dacryphilia, choking/breath play, Patrick is into it but only slightly admits to it at the end, therapeutic sex? If that’s a thing? ‘I/My/Mine’ pronouns for reader.

A/n: First of all, always read tags, but I mean it this time! This is very intense but I had a LOT of fun writing it. I’ve read the book, and I can assure you he’s an insecure slut, and he’s so babygirl. Need I remind you, INTENSE. If you don’t like it don’t read it. That’s on you. No minors. Have fun~

My fist came down sharp across his face. I reveled in the electric contact stinging my knuckles as the hook of my arm drew away. What I savored even more was the pained, groggy gasp Bateman emitted, his head lolling to the side with the motion of my punch before snapping back, and his half-lidded eyes meeting my gleeful, anticipatory ones.

He made a movement like gritty biting to fix his jaw back into place, the grotesque crunch causing his expression to sour.

“I bet that hurts, doesn’t it?” I teased, loosening his tie with two fingers, curling them upwards suggestively with a coy smile. His face stayed stone cold and annoyed, but there was something behind his eyes. Like the poised stature of a scared rabbit preparing to dart off. The threat of adrenaline. It pulsated, alive and steady. I could stare into those eyes for hours. I could claw them out with the edges of my nails, ruining them.

Beauty is only that when it’s temporary. And Patrick is beautiful. With a swift tug, his tie was thrown somewhere far beyond my peripheral vision. Beyond my care.

“I’m pleasantly surprised you haven’t told or forced me to stop yet. Either you’re secretly into this or you have some insecurity about dignity…seeing what you can take,” I mused as I undid the buttons of his shirt meticulously, adding in a whisper, “whichever one it is, it’s absolutely pathetic. I find it adorable.”

The farther I got down, the more I could sense his restraints heightening. I couldn’t sense his breathing getting faster, nor as in feel it from where I was straddling him or hear it from where I was bent over his chest, but rather knew it. Call it intuition.

For my enjoyment, I didn’t undo the last button, I simply ripped it open, ruining some of the stitching in the process. Patrick yelped.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he hissed, more solemnly than with bite.

“Physically or financially? Because I don’t see you making any moves to get me off of you.”

“That was Versace.” He mumbled from somewhere low, and went silent again, save for a few small noises while I stripped the shirt off his arms and out from underneath him. I rewarded it with the same discarded fate of the tie into the abyss behind me.

I splayed my hands across his abdomen. So warm…so humanly warm. If I didn’t have any self-control I would slice him open from every vantage point I had. He is just so perfect.

“Maybe one of these days I’ll eat you alive,” I said, turning my attention towards removing his pants. He made a brief, inaudible high-pitched sound. It caused me to smile.

With a tug and a toss, I had him. He was as good as a cornered mouse. He looked like it, too, eyes boring into mine, alert and unsteady. I bared my hypothetical fangs at him in an open-lipped grin. His eyes darted away, off to the side as if in humiliation.

“You do maintain your physique quite well for me, Bateman.” I complimented, letting my eyes run wild around his almost exposed body, except for his silk boxers. Of course they were silk.

I removed my robe-the only thing I was wearing-while examining the man before me. This seemed to grab his interest, his own eyes making their journey across my flesh. I do have my own insecurities, as an unspoken custom to any person, but I relished the way Patrick looked at me. He was intimidated. What a pretty response.

I hoisted myself, in my straddle position, just a bit higher up his body so I was sitting on his abdomen. Just an inch or so closer to his face.

Without any warning, I punched him again, this time with my non-dominant hand. The bliss of it all consumed me again. The contact, the thrum of my veins and his, the sound, in all its harshness. I could’ve orgasmed right then and there. I suppressed a pleasured moan when Patrick coughed and whimpered. When his head returned to look at me again, I was ecstatic to see I had drawn blood in his mouth.

“Fu-uck…fuck!” He groaned. Maybe he bit down too hard on his tongue, maybe the clash of teeth caused one to loosen. Excitement coursed through me as I leaned down to kiss him, eager to figure out just how I had demolished the insides of his mouth.

It was open-lipped and I spent no foreplay before pushing my tongue in. For the first time that night, I moaned with a newfound wanton fervor. I tasted blood. His blood on my tongue. Even though my eyes were closed, I felt as if rolling them back into my head. As I drank in his flavor disguised in hurried kisses, I spent careful notice on the heartbeat deeper in my body. Need. Heat. Something beyond craving.

I desired to kiss him longer, to enjoy the blood I drew for myself, like wine from a vineyard, but my body demanded he be inside it.

The need almost hurt, I admit. I sat up, smiling down at him benevolently, and pushed back and over his groin. I can’t say I was surprised to feel he was desperately hard. I almost felt bad. I tsk-ed with pity. Teasingly.

“Fuck, Bateman, you’re hard,” I muttered, observing the obvious and licking my teeth for any remaining blood, like going in for seconds after a decadant meal. I palmed the intrusion through his clothes, biting my lip when he moaned. I wish I had a keener ear. I wanted to transcribe that onto a sheet of music. To play it for myself every night. Feeling each note under my fingers on the piano. Feeling his vocal chords.

I looked up at his expression, and decided I would’ve titled the music ‘ruin’, for his eyes sprang tears, blood pooled from his mouth, a vague bruise blossomed on the side of his face. Yes. He was ruined.

I cursed something holy and beautiful under my breath as I hooked my finger in the waistband, eyes glancing up to him to note his submissive expression. His cheeks were red. Flushed from my assault or the obvious situation at hand, I didn’t know, but I assumed both.

I pulled it down. Away. Off his ankles. And there he was, ready however I would take him.

I sucked in a harsh breath, either of my hands coming up and digging into the tissue of his thighs, my nails just barely piercing his flesh. Much to my enjoyment, he made a pained sob as I drew blood from one point where my fingernail was pressed just hard enough to do so. I grit my teeth to maintain some composure.

A small amount of blood coalesced under my right hand, where, as aforementioned, my fingers dug into his thighs. I grinded myself against his other leg to satiate me in the meanwhile as I bent down and licked the blood from his left one.

Y’know those conversation starters, that go something along the lines of ‘if you had to drink one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be’? I have a new answer, thanks to the events detailed. His blood was orgasmically fantastic in my mouth. It’s like it was made to go there. To be devoured by me. To take it for my own.

“Oh, fuck, Bateman,” I droned, lips shiny with his blood, a trickle down my chin. I sat up, and the sight before me was heavenly.

The slut was leaking precum. From me drinking his blood. And his face-Christ, his face-I can still see it when I close my eyes. Even more tears glimmered around his groggy eyes, drunk on me, blood from before still on his pretty lips. He was painfully red elsewhere, too. I felt self-gratified knowing he was likely agonizing over how hard he was. Fighting to not just cum without any contact whatsoever. That made me fucking throb, and I’m not embarrassed to say that.

Equanimity be damned. I practically threw any leftover poise I had behind me like I did his clothes.

I licked up the still bleeding wound on his thigh again, but I dragged my tongue up and onto his burning erection this time. He seized. Spasmed at the contact.

He moaned so despairingly I honestly can still hear it reverberating in my head. I, in turn, moaned as well. I kept moving my tongue, focusing on a vein I found, exploring its edges and curves. His precum went well with his blood, a good flavor combination I made a mental note to try again at a later time.

I needed our bodies close so badly. Together. To take him inside my body, permanently instating him as mine, and a physical part of me. So I sat back up, still straddling his leg, and hoisted both of mine over to lock him in place. I steadied my breath. I had appearances to maintain. I slid myself up, and finally, down.

He gasped. I gasped, too, but made an effort to suppress it. He felt…I don’t know if there’s really a word for it. Incredible will suffice.

“Is this what you wanted?” I asked, beginning to thrust up and down upon him.

“I-I-“ He replied, per say. His voice was battered and broken.

“Ugh, speak up,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. Half from pleasure half from feigned frustration.

“Yea…yeah…” Patrick finally sighed. All vulnerable. Defenses crumbled. Mine to pillage and desecrate.

“Slut,” I chuckled, barely audible. I knew he heard it by the way he choked out a sob. That sparked in me a deviously brilliant idea.

Still with him inside me, I careened down just enough to wrap both my hands around his throat. With each thrust, I applied more and more pressure to my grip around his throat. Soon he sputtered and coughed, chest heaving as he tried to breathe through his bloodied nose. His eyes were off somewhere distant-like an animal looking at something not there. A ghost. Maybe it was the ghost of who he was before I ruined his facade, tore it down to pieces. Evaporating from his body as he fought for air. I moaned.

From this position, me leaning down, he hit a spot that felt just right. My knees felt weak upon their own accord.

He tried to grab my arms, as if making a move to pry them away. I wouldn’t be having that. I slid my thumbs down to the dip of his windpipe in a silent threat, and he instantly dropped his hands, making the correct and logical choice.

I toyed with him a little, abusing my power over him. I loosened my grasp on his neck completely, letting him get in one shaky, anguished gasp, and then clamped back down again. Upon doing so, he bucked his hips up, consequently getting deeper inside.

I laughed with joyous disbelief. “You-you like being choked? You’re getting off on it?” I guffawed in hilarity from the situation at hand. No pun intended. “What-is it…don’t tell me it’s gonna make you cum, now. That would be mortifying for you.”

“I-I’m-“ he writhed.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes.”

He shook his head meekly. That, or trembled.

“Well hold on, if you would be so kind. I’m get-fuck-I’m getting about there too, but…we wouldn’t want you to become all overstimulated, would we?” I broke out into a broader, toothy grin, “I don’t want you to get hurt, Bateman.”

He whined and whimpered, as if wounded. Which he was. I picked up my pace, managing to rub my clit on his groin every now and again, groaning each time I did so.

Finally. Now I was ready.

“Alright. Whatever. You can cum.” I muttered, syllables asunder, half to myself and half to him. I bared my teeth and growled lowly as I came, mentally releasing something spike-edged and dark in my mind that had been plaguing me for a while. Like admitting something deep to a therapist. I needed this like a salaryman a vacation. Throughout this, I didn’t stop, making Patrick follow rapidly, breathing with loud groans and short, pathetic wails when he came. I had a feeling this release meant something more to him, too. A letting go. Literally.

Eventually, I slowed and gently peeled my hands away from his throat. His inhales were deep and steady, exhales shaky. I pulled off and everything about him went limp, coping with the events. I chuckled inaudibly. I swung my legs off and over the bed, standing up and headed towards the bathroom. I heard no commotion from his room, and after cleaning myself off, I emerged to see him unmoved except for the rising and falling of his chest. I fetched my robe from its crumpled spot on the ground, lithely wrapping it back around me. I went to leave to the kitchen to grab myself a snack, but paused in the doorframe

“Water? Tea?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Are you alive?”

He nodded.

“You’re sure?”

Nodding.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Very enthusiastic nodding.

I smiled to myself as I left to raid his fridge.

End

If you made it this far you’re messed up and I love you and we should get married. Repost and comment if you feel inclined.

#patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman smut #American psycho smut #Patrick Bateman fanfiction

540 notes · View notes

p0lyn3sian · 2 months ago

Note

Hiiii can I request a selfcare day with the slashers? Like their s/o some how convinced them to do a mini spa day? Clay mask, manicure, etc? :))

OFFFCCC, THESE SLASHERS NEED TO TAKE A SPA DAY!!

Slashers: Patrick, Norman, Carrie, Chucky (Charles) & Tiffany, Sinclair brothers, Billy & Stu, The Lost Boys, Hannibal & Will, Jason, RZ Michael, Thomas & Bubba, & Billy Lenz & Brahms!!

(This was not really accurate, because I've never been to a spa before, also I really wrote this kinda fast so there might be a lot of repeated words, so I'm so sorry!!)

Slashers x S/O doing a mini spa day!

Patrick:

Patrick wanted a spa day with you after all his anger he put on people.. So he reserved an expensive spa place for you and him! You didn't know how to pay Patrick back for taking you to an expensive spa, but he just says that it doesn't matter, and that his darling needed a spa day too!

Patrick ordered manicures for you, clay masks, massages, etc! There was so much that Patrick ordered for both of you, and he decided to reserve the whole damn place too! Because he didn't want to be bothered by other people.

Once you were done with your manicures, he pulled you into the massage room, and the people started massaging. Your muscles were really tight, due to the stress, and now you feel so relaxed and so does Patrick too! After massages, Patrick pulled you into the sauna room and rubbed the clay onto your face, and then he did his. Feeling even more relaxed in the hot sauna, you and Patrick are so glad you guys decided to do a spa day off of things that stresses both of you out.

Norman:

You suggested to Norman about a little spa day with you and him, since you've seen him always stressed out about something. Of course Norman wanted to take a day off of work and have a mini spa day with you! Norman had things for the spa day, because he does own a motel for bath stuff too!

Luckily your own home has a bath tub that would fit both you in, so you started turning on warm or hot water. Norman got bath bombs, things to make the clay masks, etc! Norman was so ready for this little mini spa day with you!Norman plopped 1 or 2 bath bombs that smell like flowers that you love to smell, and started making the clay masks. You took the bowl from him and told him that he had to relax, and that you will do everything prepared for him.

Norman then nodded his head and took his clothes off, and went into the water. After you did the clay masks, you then said to Norman you'll be right back, because you are going to get something. You came back with two bowls, one with melted chocolate and one with strawberries! You then pulled a chair and a small foldable table and sat down, and you started massaging Norman's head praising him for how wonderful he is, and also feeding chocolate strawberries!

Carrie:

You and Carrie have been planning a spa day as an anniversary on the day you two became best friends, or being girlfriends! You two decided to go to a spa that was nearby in your neighborhood, and the usual people that know you two welcomed you both in! Because you two loved to get manicures from there!

You then told the person that was working at the front desk, that you and Carrie are gonna do a spa day! They immediately got their people to prepare for the spa, clay masks, etc!

Then your spa room was ready, you and Carrie both walked into the room and felt the humid air on your skin, just the perfect temperature! You both then went into the spa and immediately felt relaxed, you then put clay on your face and Carrie's, and you then massaged her back. Just a nice relaxing spa day with your bestie/girlfriend Carrie!

Chucky (Charles) & Tiffany:

You and Tiffany were planning to go to a spa for relaxation, but Chucky heard your conversation and wanted to tag along since he wanted to relax too. You invited Chucky too since you got paid on Friday for this special occasion for everyone to just relax!

Walking into the spa it felt really welcoming, the decoration, colors, everything! You and Tiffany were ready for the spa and everything, but Chucky didn't want to do spa stuff, he thinks it's only for women..

That's okay, you didn't want to force him into anything that you and Tiffany like! You two immediately got ready for the spa, skin routine, clay masks, etc! After you two were done doing your routine, you both then went into the spa and immediately felt relaxed! Chucky just watched you two have the time of your lives, happy that you both are having fun, even him too!

Sinclair Brothers: (Bo, Vincent, & Lester)

You decided to make a spa day for them without telling them about it, since they've always been stressed out about something. You got everything ready for the brother, the warm bath, clay masks, etc! Right now you are taking them to your spa, blindfolded. A little trip and hits from tree branches over there and here, until you all arrived!

You pulled their blindfolds over their heads, and they were amazed to see a steaming built spa, some sweets/food, and a lot of other things too! Both Lester and Bo immediately went into the steaming spa and felt relaxed, but Vincent was taking his time. All three of them are now in the spa, and you grab some sweets/food and drinks.

You were happy they liked what you have done, all three of them were so relaxed! You then told them that you got snacks for them, and immediately Lester came by and wanted you to hand feed them. You laughed, and started feeding him snacks, Bo and Vincent just got their snacks. Everything was perfect for everyone!

Billy & Stu:

These two love snooping around your room, for stuff.. They looked at your colorful calendar to see what plans you have for this week. They've seen 'pay bills,' 'pay electricity bills,' so many damn bills they thought. Until their eyes landed on a Saturday and they read it, 'Spa days with my boys!!'

Billy and Stu put on their "poker face" and totally did not read your calendar! They went downstairs to see you cooking, and felt bad because after seeing that your calendar was full of bills and other important things, they wanted to help you! Billy grabbed the wooden cooking spoon from your hand, and by your surprise you were about to say something until Stu walked you over the table and let you sit down.

Once it was Saturday, they were so ready for you to take them to the spa! You told them that you all will be going to the spa! Arriving at the spa, you have already made a reservation for a room, and these two already hopped into the spa! You took your sweet sweet time putting on your clay mask, and you hopped into the spa too! Billy and Stu then started making fun of you, because of the stuff that was on your face! Which yes you almost got out of the spa and went somewhere because of their rudeness, but they pulled you back in. Laughter just filling in the air, while making splashes everywhere in the spa!

The Lost Boys: (David, Dwayne, Paul, & Marko)

Since these vampires can't go out in the sun, you planned their spa at night! You made it a surprise, so you had to put on masks to cover their eyes so that they wouldn't peek. Everything was ready, the spa, snacks, etc!

You uncovered all their eyes and let them see! The boys looked around the place you did, and walked towards the hot spa. Paul and Marko already took off their clothes and went in, feeling relieved and relaxed. David and Dwayne think that the steaming water will burn them, but looking at Paul and Marko it didn't seem they were screaming in pain or anything, so they went in too!

All of the boys started splashing water at each other's faces, making messes, and just being boys! Once you came by with the snacks, they wanted you to feed them, so you did! All the boys thought that you were coming to the spa, but you said it was for them. They all said their thanks since you did so much work for your vampires! They love you so much that you took your time with the spa, and how you take care of them too!

Hannibal & Will:

You had to take these two to a spa, because Will is always stressed out, and Hannibal needs to take his mind off of his killing.. So you pulled Hannibal and Will into the car and drove off. They asked you where you were taking them, and you just answered with a 'somewhere fun'.

You then parked your car and got outside with Will and Hannibal. Hannibal and Will looked at the store and thought that you were taking them shopping, but once they walked inside it was one of those spa places! They saw you talking to a front desk lady, probably thinking that you were paying, which they tried to stop you from paying. You told them you have already paid a reservation, and that you told them to follow you!

Hannibal and Will felt bad that you paid for the reservation for them! You told them not to worry about anything and that they just needed to relax! So they took your word and took off their clothes, and went into the spa. You did the same thing, since you felt really stressed too. You all felt really relaxed afterwards, and these two decided to take you all out to an expensive restaurant since you paid for the spa!

Jason:

Jason loves to look at magazines during his free time, and his eyes came across a page about spa! Jason then came running to you feeling all giddy about it, and you thought it was an earthquake since the cabin was shaking!

Then it stopped once Jason came to you, Jason showed you why he came running down the hall to you, and you looked at what he was pointing at and saw he was pointing at a spa. Relaxed people having fun, snacks, clay masks, etc! So you told Jason you would do that for him! Jason shook his head, and signed in sign language that he wanted to help you with building the spa and everything else!

You and Jason started building a spa that was like the one in the magazine, but a little different! After building the spa, Jason worked on doing the snacks and you did the stuff you both need for the spa! Jason then worked on putting a filter for the spa water, because since the only water there is, it's the lake water. You then came outside seeing Jason already prepared the spa, snacks, and the decorations! After all that hard work, you both finally went into the spa and everything was perfect, just a romantic spa with Jason!

RZ! Michael:

Spa day at home, because this Tarzan looking dude, is everywhere where he is wanted! You wanted to do a spa day for Michael, because you have a feeling that his hair is tangled, and he also needed to take a bath since he reeks of blood from his victims and animals..

You started a warm bubble bath, grabbed some body wash, shampoo, & conditioner. You then waited until the bath was filled almost to the top. Once the bathtub was filled, you then walked downstairs to get some snacks, and went back up. Michael then wondered what you were doing, and walked upstairs to where you were.Michael then saw you sitting down, and you looked at him and told him to come and shut the door. Michael then did what you asked and walked over to you, you then pointed at the bathtub and said that he had to take a bath.

Since there were bubbles in the bath, Michael immediately took off his clothes and went inside. Bubble baths is what makes Michael entertained, and it also reminds him of his mom doing his bath too! You squirted some conditioner on your hand and started untangling Michael's hair. After a little while of untangling his hair, you then fed Michael some snacks and told him that he did a great job of not complaining of showering! Just giving love and praise to Michael for doing such a great job!

Thomas & Bubba:

It was just a normal hot sunny day in Texas, and you have been working on doing a spa day with these two! Nice ice cold water for both of them, since their skin is always hot during hardworking days like these. Killing off people and making them as meat.

You got the ice bath ready, snacks, clay, etc! Now you have to tell them that they can come outside! You walked your home and told Thomas and Bubba that it was ready, Bubba got up from the chair he was sitting in and walked towards you, Thomas did the same too.

Walking to the backyard, Thomas and Bubba looked at the whole thing you made just for them! A nice cold bath, snacks, drinks, and some other stuff that they didn't know you made too! Since it was still hot outside almost all the ice melted, so it was still cold and Thomas and bubba love you so much that you took the time to make all this just for them. You also wanted to feed them some snacks which they let you! Luda Mae looked outside seeing that you made a spa for them, but with cold baths which she laughed at. But she was really happy that both boys are having fun and relaxing at the same time!

Billy Lenz & Brahms:

Doing a spa day is good for these two, because they always smell bad whenever they walk around the house. That's why these two are trying to find you in Brahms big mansion, until they found you in a big room that's like a big sauna room.

They looked at what you were doing at the spa, the snacks that were nearby, etc! You turned around and saw Billy and Brahms looking everywhere in the spa. You then walked to the door, closed it, and locked it just in case those two tried to run out from not taking a bath.. They wanted to know what was all this, until you told them that they had to take a bath. They fled to the door, but it was locked and saw that you were giving them your glare.

They sluggishly walked to the bath that was full of warm water with bubbles, took off their clothes, and went inside. You then placed the snack on a little foldable table, you grabbed a shower cloth and started scrubbing off all the dirt off of those two. You then grabbed the treats and fed them, they felt so relaxed and happy that you fed and washed them!

353 notes · View notes

fear-is-truth · 19 days ago

Text

𝐇𝐈𝐌 & 𝐈 𝜗ϱ . . . 𝓟𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝓑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍

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

SFW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NSFW

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#queue #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman x y/n #patrick bateman fanfic #american psycho #christian bale x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x s/o #slashers x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher smut

336 notes · View notes

sl4sh3rsub · 10 months ago

Text

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.

760 notes · View notes

24kvlaksworld · 2 days ago

Text

154 notes · View notes

balesfx · 26 days ago

Text

they're permanent and i'm not

patrick batman x fem!reader

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

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

♫ : under your spell — snow strippers

"Be quiet."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Patrick? What's taking—"

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

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

"Patrick?"

"Yes, dear."

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

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

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

"Why not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I told you to be careful, I can't…"

"Don't. Talk."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah—Patrick, please…!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Incredible." He whispered.

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

#balesfx ✿#patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman smut #christian bale x reader #christian bale smut #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman imagine #x reader #smut #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #tw blood #dubc0n #this was a lot longer than i intended

112 notes · View notes

hneedlz · 1 year ago

Text

THE WAY PATRICK BATEMAN WOULD...

A Patrick bateman smutty headcannon list

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

Enjoy!

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

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

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

Patrick likes to take advantage of you everywhere and anywhere.

He loves to degrade you and humiliate you in bed.

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

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

He tries his best to make you cry everytime

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

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

#alternative #aesthetic #slashers #horror #horror headcanons #fanfiction #slashpuppi #slasher headcanons #slasher fucker #american #american psycho #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman

931 notes · View notes

slashv1xen · 7 months ago

Note

Patrick bateman head cannons 🫣?

ofc anonie <3

patrick bateman headcannons 💗

loves girls that can cook

he can cook as well, but he rather not

his type is classy, elegant women

if you reads he’ll stare at you while reading + admiring your features

he’ll buy you anything you want, books/jewellery/etc.

he CANNOT STAND girls women that aren’t educated (if you read classic literature he’ll marry you on the spot)

he doesn’t like when girls wear makeup (sorry), but he likes when your hands are manicured/are painted

his favourite colour whenever you paint your nails are dark red or white

he’s extremely blunt, and if he has a problem he’ll say it within a day

i’m sorry i didn’t write a lot i actually haven’t finished this movie so i don’t know the character that well. anyways i hope you enjoyed this it was fun to write <3

#slasher #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #fanfiction #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x you #american psycho #horror movies #headcannons

150 notes · View notes

cliffbar-booth · 1 year ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

I was so fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i-"

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

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

"mr bateman, i can er, explain-"

his free hand went around my throat, gripping it.

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

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

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

I shook my head.

"so keep quiet, pretty please.."

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

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

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

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

"don't move."

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

#american psycho #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman #slasher smut #smut fanfiction

468 notes · View notes

bunnylouisegrimes · 1 month ago

Text

In Good Health- American Psycho Drabble (Includes Smut and Hospital Themes)

I was inspired by some ideas discussed with the great @makeyoumine69 to write this little hospital themed smexy drabble (Jfc I cannot believe as someone in the medical field I wrote this shit XD).

*This story includes masterbation and fingering ;)*

It just cuts right to the chase, so uh...enjoy if you can!

"Well, Mr.Bateman...I can confirm your penis has no irregularities," I teased him in the secluded dark hospital room I managed to snag for the two of us. Wearing simple blue gloves and picking up his dick, I studied it carefully. "The length and girth are quite impressive, and your testicles are what we would refer to as, 'within normal limits.' No bruising or tenderness or sores to be found anywhere on you..."

He gave a cocky smirk. "Well, nurse, I'm glad to know...will I need a catheter at all then?"

"Only if you'd like..." I gave a wink.

Chuckling, he shook his head. "Respectfully, I'd rather not. I don't mind you handling it, but I'd rather not have a tube going down it and being stuck there..."

I smirked myself as I slithered my way across the bed, kicking my Sketchers to the floor. "I couldn't agree more. You wouldn't want to get what we refer to as a CAUTI."

He raised a brow, signifying I needed to elborate.

"Catheter Associated Urinary Tract Infection."

"Yeesh," he shook his head. "In that case, I'd rather you just examine my little Bateman."

"Well, you'll be pleased to know that your 'not-so-little Bateman' is in excellent condition..."

"Are you sure about that? Are you sure you don't need to check anything else?"

I studied his naked body lying in the hospital bed, completely exposed for me to see. "What other symptoms are you experiencing, Mr. Bateman?"

"Well, extreme arousal comes to mind...especially looking at you in those scrubs..."

I blushed. "Oh, Mr. Bateman...you are ever the charmer..."

I watched from the corner of my eye as his erection only grew stronger. "It seems as though there's a lump in my pants that can't be controlled..."

"Hmmm...whatever shall we do? There must be some kind of treatment we could give you...Oh...I know..."

I leaned down near his legs, grabbing his cock. "It appears I'm going to have to get a little more physical to alleviate your problem..."

I began to jerk him off, my grip just the way he liked it as I stroked his manhood. He gave a moan, trying to stifile it to not draw any attention from my coworkers outside, ocassionally walking past to visit their patients. Meanwhile, I had already technically gotten off work, but after Patrick arrived to pick me up, we both agreed to attempt some naughty roleplay in an empty hospital room I knew would be available for a short time...so long as the charge nurse didn't place any new admissions here, we would be safe to get off for a short while...

"Hmmm...your sensitivity is notable, Mr. Bateman..."

"Unfff..." He groaned. "Keep going...you're such a good nurse...you know just how to make your patients better..."

I giggled. "Awwww...I try my best, Mr. Bateman..."

I continued to jack him off, the precum dripping down his cock and onto my glove. Cackling, I sped up, the only sounds from the room being the wet friction of fapping his dick and his grunts and groans of pleasure. Finally, he reached orgasm a few moments later, his cum spilling out onto my gloved hand. He moaned into the pillow to prevent being heard, a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and slicked back brown hair onto the soft white pillows. Beaming, I studied his warm semen in my hand.

"My...your ejaculate is quite strong...I can confirm your penis is working wonderfully, Mr. Bateman! No need to be concerned!"

He looked up at me, panting and giving me a look I knew all too well, making my already wet pussy even wetter...

"Good to know, nurse...Thank you for being so wonderful in your examination of me..." He sat up, the head of his cock still dripping with cum. "I believe for your incredible work as my nurse, you should get yourself checked out..."

"Oh, I do now?" I questioned flirtaciously.

He pressed me down in the bed, pulling my scrub pants down my legs. "You work so hard...don't you want to make sure you are in good health to take care of people? You're probably a bit sweaty down there....maybe I should check you out to make sure you're not developing any cysts..."

"Oh, Mr. Bateman...how inappropriate...and yet...so thoughtful of you~"

He yanked my panties down and left my womanhood exposed. Positioning his fingers and thumb, he gave me a suggestive look.

"That's Dr. Bateman to you..."

"Oh, yes, Dr. Bateman...anything you say..."

"Thatta girl," he snickered as he pushed his fingers through my opening and placed his thumb on my clit.

A moan escaped my lips, making me bite it to hold back from making too much noise. "Mmmf...oh, Dr. Bateman...this feels sooooo good..."

"Don't be surprised if you reach orgasm during this procedure...it's perfectly normal and expected. Just let it happen if it comes to you..."

"Yes, Dr. Bateman, sir...you know what's best for me..."

He continued to pump through me, his thumb manipulating my clitoris. My already wet vagina was made even more wet by his expert friction and masterbation. I had to hold back my moaning as much as I could, but it was a struggling battle as he knew all of my weaknesses. He knew how quick or slow he needed to work, he knew what spots felt best, he knew everything...I leaned back on the bed, letting him do what he needed to do, my legs quivering, my toes curling...

"Mmmmm~ Dr. Bateman...I'm soooo wet for you...I need to give into this pleasure..."

"Not yet, honey...Not yet...keep being a good patient for me...I was for you, you can return the favor, can't you?"

"Yes, sir..." I begged. "I can be good..."

"That's what I like to hear..." He chortled in my ear, continuing to work his magic with his fingers.

"F-Fuck..." I groaned out. "Oh, sir...oh, master, I-"

"My, look at you," he cackled as if I was sealing my doom. "You can't even help but to become my little pet, my sweet little slave, even here in the hospital. I'm your master even here, huh? What a devoted and loyal good girl you are..."

"Yes, master..." I sighed and let my eyes shut, lost in another world.

"What if everyone here at this hospital knew you were my good girl? What if they knew that pink choker you always wear around your neck was more than just a collar for cute appearance? What if they knew you wear it because you have a master? What if they knew that you liked being a pet and a slave? What if they knew how needy and submissive you are?"

"Mmmf..." My cheeks burned red. "How embarrassing, sir..."

"Don't worry, pumpkin...I won't say a word...so long as you know how to keep quiet...this is a quiet procedure..."

"Mmm hmm..." I nodded. "Yes, sir..."

He picked up the pace and focused on my best spots, testing my obedience. I dug my nails into the blanket and sheet of the bed, holding back the urge to release my moans. Deciding he was being too cruel, even for him, he slipped his other index finger into my mouth, forcing me to suck on it like a pacifier. I suckled and that seemed to stifle my moaning as I was riding out my way to orgasm. After a few moments of this, I couldn't hold back anymore and met my release with a single small moan with my lips around his finger. His other hand was met with my fluids creaming out. He slowly pulled out of me, making my opening wink at him.

"Good girl...such a good girl! You made that procedure go very smoothly...you're completely free of cysts and you work very well down there...Don't tell anyone, but you were my best and favorite patient..."

"Mmm...you were for me too, sir..." I smiled, blissed out of my mind and swimming in my afterglow.

As quickly as possible, we slipped our clothes back on and snuck out of the unit. The floor was pretty busy with other rooms, so the nurses were all distracted. Even the charge nurse was disracted with helping another staff nurse with something. Nobody saw us leave and head for the elevators. The only thing the two of us could do was smile, hold hands, and have an arm wrapped around the other.

Together, we were both in good health, better than we were when we were all alone; physically, emotionally, spiritually, and of course, sexually.

#american psycho #patrick bateman #american psycho fanfic #patrick bateman fanfic #american psycho fanfiction #patrick bateman fanfiction

31 notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 5 months ago

Text

I Like It Rough

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!OC (Angel💋)

— SUNOPSYS: "There is something special about this girl. Something I have always wanted to unravel."

— CONTAINS: Smut, Patrick's POV, toxic relationship, aggressive foreplay, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, degradation kink, praise kink and maybe something more :D

— A/N: This is for my beloved @mothhmannn! It was such a pleasure for me to write about your OC! 💕

— SONG REC: Lady Gaga — I Like It Rough

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓

The roar of the city was barely audible in the opulent interior of the limousine, and I could care less about the angry expression of the girl sitting next to me. Angel, my beloved, but a spoiled brat. Maybe it was not her fault at all, since I was the one who allowed her to feel special. As if she was not just one of the hookers I used to sleep with.

"Darling," I began, placing my warm palm on her knee. "I know things can be complicated between us, but please don't sit there with that face. It doesn't suit you at all."

Angel, sighing in frustration, just crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from me.

"Oh, come on, baby, don't be like that," I urged in a stern voice before grabbing her wrist, causing the girl to whimper in pain. "Look at this beautiful bracelet. Do you think you will ever be able to acquire such luxury without me?"

This time, the blonde didn't dare ignore me and locked her big, sad eyes with mine. "Fuck you, Bateman," she hissed through her white teeth. "If you really think you're the only Wall Street man I sleep with, you're delusional and sick," she spat in my face, forcing the blood in my veins to boil, but I didn't allow myself to hurt her. Not yet. "And pathetic."

"Say it again."

Angel trembled under my grip. I could feel the turmoil inside her, reflected in the way she stared at me, desperate and broken. "You..." she almost whispered, glancing down at the gleaming jewelry around her thin wrist, then raising her eyes to my lips.

"...are so unbearable."

"Oh, I know, little one," I bridged the distance, snuggling into her like a snake in one swift motion, finding that sweet spot on her delicate neck. "And you love it, don't you? You've always loved that about me."

Whereupon, I kissed her hard, letting go of her wrist only to put her arms on my shoulders. Angel didn't respond to my initiative at first, but then, with a muffled moan, she got on top of me, letting me grope her great ass and pull up the hem of her dress.

"Ah, Patrick," she gasped into my ear as I pressed her harder against my groin, making her feel how much I wanted her. Angel squirmed on my lap before she kissed me again, plunging her wet tongue into my mouth, which I gladly sucked without shame. "Mmhm, fuck!"

With a cheeky grin, I relished the way Angel was grinding on me like a fucking bitch in heat. "That's it, sweetheart," I crooned in a husky voice, my cock straining against the confines of my Valentino pants. "You just need a firm hand."

At my words, I noticed that Angel's humping became less and less vigorous until she stopped moving at all. "Tell me," the obvious pain in her voice. "Tell me what happened last night was just an accident."

The lewd memories came to my mind faster than I could actually think about Angel's words. Closing my eyes, I indulged in the obscene image my brain produced: me lying on the bed with three beautiful girls, Angel being one of them. While two of them were busy with my cock, I sat Angel on my face and made her buck her hips towards me as I stuck out my tongue for her to use.

"Patrick!" A stubborn female voice pulled him out of the tantalizing haze. "Why did you do this to me?"

"Did what?" I asked, assuming she meant the way I slapped her face several times until her lower lip began to bleed. "I thought you loved pain, my fallen Angel."

The girl scoffed as I grinned. "Why did you treat other chicks better than me?"

Was she really jealous? Such an idea made my smirk widen and I couldn't help but squeeze her cheeks, forcing her to claw at my large palm. "How many times do I have to say it?" I whispered against her swollen lips. "No matter how many girls I have, you will always be special to me."

That was only half true, or at least I wanted to believe it, because Angel was just a hooker. But a very hot one. At some point I even wanted to tell her that I didn't want her to sleep with anyone else but me. I wanted to, but something inside me stopped me every time I opened my mouth. Angel kept bubbling something in my ear, but my own thoughts were louder.

As the limousine pulled up to a not-too-fancy looking building in Lower Manhattan, we both realized that this was a breaking point, but this time I let her decide if she wanted to be alone tonight or have my company. The blonde carefully got up from my lap and took a moment to fix her slightly disheveled hair, then she adjusted the hem of her short dress and looked at me with hope. But I didn't understand what she wanted.

"See you next week, I guess," I mumbled, pulling out a thick stack of $100 bills. "Buy yourself some new lingerie for the one I ripped off."

Perplexed, Angel took the money but she didn't move, so I opened the door for her, implying that no one was forcing her to stay. A cold breeze blew into my face as I did so, but the girl just clutched the bills in her hands, on the verge of tears—I could smell her desperation in the air.

"I hate you, Bateman," Angel hissed, her eyes devoid of emotion, shimmering like broken glass. "You…you just don't understand."

Annoyed, I looked at her indifferently, then at the pile of bills. "I think I pay you enough. You should be grateful, you know?"

The moment I heard her muffled sob, I knew it was over, so when she grabbed my hand and forced me to follow her, I was not surprised. Not even a little. Everything was going according to my plan, as usual.

In a few minutes we were in Angel's small apartment. Overwhelmed by the consuming last, I didn't pay attention to the surroundings, I only cared about the place I was going to fuck her while I was holding the girl in my strong arms and she was kissing me if I was about to vanish.

"Fuck, you're gonna stain my suit," I grumbled as she wrapped her legs around my waist, her wet panties rubbing against my expensive suit. "You're such a dirty little whore. My little whore."

"Patrick," Angel whimpered as I bent her over the back of the couch I saw in the living room. Being too impatient, I couldn't wait any longer and my hands were already undoing my belt with practiced ease. "Put on a condom-arhhh!"

Her loud moan echoed through the small room as I slammed into her supple body without any preparation, as I was sure she didn't need it, since she was soaking wet.

So fucking needy for me.

"Just like that," I purred with my eyes closed, reveling in the blissful sensation of her warmth enveloping my thick dick. "God, you're so fucking perfect for me, doll."

Blushing, Angel sobbed, but she didn't let a single tear slip down her beautiful but sad face. Even when I yanked her hair, fucking her really hard and forcing her to look at me. Her bright eyes stared at me without any judgment, all I could see was a pure, raw desire that I so eagerly wanted to fulfill.

"Spread your legs wider," my command was obeyed almost instantly. "Good girl," I snaked my fingers between Angel's thighs to tease her blushing clit before pulling down her lace panties and removing them completely. With a guttural growl, I rolled my hips against hers, hitting the most sensitive spot inside her pussy and indulging in the way she screamed for me. "I'm... I'm close, babe."

Arching her elegant back, Angel opened her mouth so invitingly that I couldn't stop myself from sliding a finger inside. "Mhmm," she moaned around my digit as I refocused my attention on her swollen little bud, rubbing it in sync with my thrusts, I could feel her inner channel contracting around me, about to milk me until I was dry. "Pat-Patrick..."

Panting, I pulled my digit out of her warm mouth to wrap both hands around her slender neck, ramming into her with all my might, her small form shuddering with each stroke. Angel was the first to fall apart, she could barely stand on her feet, clinging desperately to the couch, shaking as if from the electric shock.

This girl. She was perfect. At that moment, she was mine, completely mine. And if I ever found the courage to tell her I wanted her forever, I would probably be free of the obsessive thoughts that had haunted me since I met her.

My little fallen Angel.

73 notes · View notes

justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year ago

Text

Despite Everything - Patrick Bateman X GN Reader

Title: Despite Everything

Patrick Bateman X GN Reader

Additional Characters: N/A

Requested by Anon!

WC: 1,876

Warnings: American Psycho canon violence mentioned, suggestiveness, blood mentioned, death mentioned, murder mentioned, Patrick in general, slight angst, and fluff

Patrick didn't know how he was surviving. If it was anyone else leaving dishes in his sink, he'd downright merc them. He'd find an axe and chase them around his apartment that he strategically covered with some see-through tarp and newspapers, and murder them; chop them up. But, he couldn't do that to you, no, not you. Why? He didn't know. He didn't know how or why his tolerance for you was so strong. Normal people would call it love, even you might've, but Patrick didn't think about it that way. He didn't feel like that about you. But then again, he didn't feel anything most of the time. He's said it before, the only emotions he felt were greed and disgust, aside from rage and bloodlust.

Patrick met you at one of the Pierce & Pierce business parties. It was a networking event for the company, one where he had to get as many sponsors as possible to ensure a success rate. He didn't really care about that though, he only cared about his personal gain in the long run. But, Patrick did need to socialize, no matter how much he hated to do so, just so he can keep his reputation intact. Wandering around the glamorous room, a glass of scotch in one hand. Observing the room, his ears perked up at the sound of a loud, slightly obnoxious, at least to him, laugh. Turning his gaze towards the sound, he watched as you chuckled, a hand over your mouth, eyes closed with such glee. The small group around you, that you were having a conversation with, didn't chuckle or utter a word. They stared at you until your laughter died down and you noticed their perplexed stares.

You let your smile fall slightly, as you apologized to the group, who only left you alone moments later. You let your smile fully drop after they all left, swirling the glass of champagne in your hand as you let out a small sigh. Eyes dropping to the marble floor, you then scoffed, rolling your eyes as you chugged the rest of your drink before passing the empty glass on a wandering maid's tray. You crossed your arms, your own eyes slowly looking around the room, until they landed on someone else's. The beautiful dark chocolate eyes of Patrick's stared right into yours, making you slightly uncomfortable and flustered at the same time.

Patrick watched as your eyes landed on his, yours widening ever-so-slightly before you quickly looked away. Patrick's mind raced as he watched your face contort into bashfulness or possible discomfort; he didn't know and he didn't care. He then watched as you broke away from the party, making your way to an open balcony. Patrick, despite himself, followed you. As you made your way outside, Patrick took notice that your hair and attire were also quite different from the other people's at the party, more extravagant; elegant. You, unlike most, had money. He could tell. It wasn't until later that he would find out that you were one of the newest sponsors.

"Following me?" Your voice had spoken up, making Patrick's eyebrows narrow ever-so-slightly as you turned your head to the side to glance at him.

"Your laughter irritates me. I could slash your throat." He muttered out loud, surprisingly making you let out a mixture between a scoff and a laugh.

You turned around, your back leaning up against the railing of the balcony, "Thank you, quite charming, aren't you?" You spoke sarcastically, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at Patrick with a small humorless smile.

And that was the beginning of his relationship with you. From a pretty rocky start and bumpy middle, neither of you knew how it would end. You didn't even know how it began to be honest. One minute you were at a boring business party, and the next you were on a date with Patrick Bateman himself. And, it was alright. Yes, Patrick was rude and said terrible things, but you really liked him nonetheless. For some reason, aside from his good looks, you really liked Patrick. You got used to his rude ramblings and threats, only finding out about Patrick's fantasies a couple of weeks after becoming an 'item.' That didn't seem to scare you off like Patrick thought it would.

You questioned yourself constantly in the beginning. Why were you with a guy like Patrick? He said mean things and made small jokes about you. He threatened you one moment and then had you in his bed the next. You didn't know what to make of this strange man and yet, something about him intrigued you. He made you want to know more. To learn everything about him. Only a year into the relationship did you see a slightly notable change in Patrick.

The changes you were noticing though, well, Patrick practically stopped bad-mouthing you altogether. He stopped the name-calling, the terrible comments, and it was nice, amazing really. But, Though he stopped with you, it didn't stop him from doing it to others. Like the waitress at his favorite restaurant, or the taxi driver that drove you both there in the first place.

Patrick even used to threaten you, saying he'd spill your guts if you didn't clean the dirty dishes you left in the sink. He'd say he'd find an axe and chop you up if you didn't put away your unfolded laundry. Patrick hated how messy you could get, but contrary to his past bloody ventures, he'd never really hurt you. Though, he regretted letting you come over most days. He often questioned himself, why he seemed to not have his dark thoughts and fantasies when around you. He was getting soft, and he hated you for it... Most of the time.

~~~

Coming home after a long day at work, Patrick found you on the couch, watching 'I Love Lucy.' Patrick ignored you at first, making his way to his room, before going to the kitchen. He stopped, his dark eyes staring at the kitchen sink, a dirty cup sitting within it. Rage began to boil inside of him, and his hands clenched into fists. His teeth ground together as his eyes burned with anger. His jaw tensed further, and he stalked across the living room, glaring daggers at you. You paid attention to him when he walked up to you, a small smile forming on your lips.

"Hi, Patty, bad day at work?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, as he just stared down at you.

"You left dishes in the sink." He answered slowly, making your eyes widen in shock.

"Oh," You muttered, getting up off the couch, "I did?" You then asked, walking over to the sink and letting out a sigh at the sight of the cup from your coffee. You turned to find Patrick right behind you, almost startling you at how close he was, but he had done that before. You looked up at him, giving him a small apologetic smile, "I'm sorry about that, honey. I got distracted."

Patrick didn't say a word, before he placed his hands around your upper arms, his grip tightening ever-so-slightly before he moved you to the side. You stumbled over your own feet, watching confused as Patrick peeled off his suit jacket, folding it neatly before setting it on the counter and grabbing yellow gloves. Rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white button-up up to his elbows, Patrick began to scrub fiercely at the cup before it was squeaky clean.

You continued watching as he scrubbed the cup with a sponge, you totally understood why Patrick was so angry with you, but your thoughts were mainly on the fact that he didn't threaten you. You knew that he’d never even hurt you in the first place. But, seeing that he was so frustrated, you didn't want to ask him about it or egg him on. You didn't want to upset him even more.

Given that you were given the opportunity practically on a silver plate, you let your eyes rake over the man in front of you. The way his perfectly combed hair bounced slightly as he aggressively cleaned the dish, the way his dark eyes seemed a slight shade darker as he glared down at the soapy water, and the way his jaw was perfectly clenched, as his muscles flexed with every movement he made. Your breath hitched for a moment, causing your heart to skip a beat when he turned to glare at you, and you quickly pulled your gaze away from him. Your cheeks began to heat up as your fingers itched at the want and need to touch him. Your hand twitches.

"You're so handsome." You spoke up as you looked back up at him, making him freeze. Patrick turned and stared at you, his body tense, his brows furrowed.

"What?" He finally responded, his voice low as his expression remained the same.

Your smiled adoringly, "You're so handsome," You repeated, "I know you know this, but I just have to say it." Patrick just stared at you as you continued, becoming a bit more shy as you went on, "And I'm sorry for forgetting about the cup. I know how much you strive for perfection. This is your home, and I should clean up after myself as you do at my place."

You watched as Patrick looked away, not saying a word as he paced the clean cup on the dish rack and pulled off the gloves. Placing his hands on the sink's ledge, he brought his gaze back to you, "Despite everything..." He muttered to himself, he felt himself begin to smile, just a small twitch of his lips. Your heartbeat quickened. It wasn't his usual, sharp and cold grin, it wasn't his scowl. But as quickly as this small, faint smile appeared, it disappeared just as fast.

Turning to you, a different type of grin slowly spread onto his face as he pulled the yellow gloves off his hands. Walking towards you, you walked backward, your back hitting the counter behind you. Your heart began to race as he stepped closer to you, your mouth falling slightly agape. Patrick tilted his head slightly to the side as you tried your best not to stare at those mesmerizingly dark eyes. Reaching out, Patrick grabbed you by the waist, surprising you as he lifted you up; slinging you over his shoulder. You let out a small gasp as you grabbed onto his shoulder, feeling his large, warm hand slide precariously up your thigh, making you squeak.

"Patrick?" You called out softly, your voice filled with confusion and excitement all mixed together as your cheeks burned. Patrick simply tightened his hold on you, his grin growing as he then made his way down the hall and into his bedroom with haste. You let out a huff, rolling your eyes with a smile. It seemed like you had been forgiven.

494 notes · View notes