#patrick bateman x female reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

makeyoumine69 · 1 year

Note

Love ur writing it always makes me so happy when you post

For the celebration can you do breeding, belly bulge, and loss of innocence/virginity please 🥵🥵

Obsession

◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: When your father told you that you were going to marry the son of his biggest business partner, named Patrick Bateman, you didn't believe him at first, but eventually you had to face reality and accept your destiny.

◥ WARNINGS: Smut, hurt /comfort, forced marriage, forced pregnancy (kinda), loss of virginity, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, nipple play/tit sucking, teasing, vaginal sex, creampie, belly bulge, Breeding kink, Praise kink, Innocent kink, Size kink, sweet dirty talk, multiple orgasms, humiliation, manipulation, pet names, horny hubby!Patrick Bateman himself.

◥ WORDCOUNT: 4.1k

◥ SONG REC: Mariah Carey - Obsessed🖤

◥ A/N: Finally, I managed to finish this prompt. I really enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for this request, I hope you like it!

◥ LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [BWC MASTERLIST].

You were so scared and lost that you couldn't really believe it was happening - you wished that marrying Patrick Bateman was just a dream... but it wasn't. It all felt so real when after the super luxurious wedding, you rode in his limo to the Plaza Hotel for your first night together. Because the whole situation between the two of you was so rushed, you didn't even have time to get to know each other better, your father was too impatient and he wanted this marriage to happen as soon as possible. However, you remembered Patrick since you were children and all the girls around were always so charmed by him, even when he was just a little cheeky boy.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Patrick suddenly asked, placing his large palm on your knee.

With a sharp gasp, you shrugged from his unexpected touch and turned to face him, holding for a moment to admire his beautiful, brown eyes.

“Nothing.” You replied, breaking eye contact with him once you noticed you were staring at him for too long.

You heard him letting out a tired sigh, and then Bateman tried to cuddle with you a bit, wrapping his arm around your slightly shaking shoulders. “I know that everything seems to be a bit messy but…”

"It doesn't seem like it, but it really is," you looked at him again, his face so close to yours that you had to hold your breath. "Literally…everything."

"Baby, please. Don't interrupt me, okay?" Patrick tried his best to be patient and polite, but you could feel his hand tightening on your back with each passing moment. "Things are really messed up, but I want to assure you – if you can be a good wife, I'll be a great husband to you. That sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?"

Shivering from being so close to him, you almost writhed in your seat when you felt his searing lips brushing behind your ear as he murmured something soft, something soothing, but you couldn't concentrate as the meaning of his words slipped away from you like a leaf in the wind.

“Pat-Patrick, actually … there’s one thing I didn’t tell you yet,” you mused nearly audible. “You know, I’ve never been close with anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, the limo stopped and you both looked into the window to see the beautiful illumination of the Plaza.

“Oh thank God, we’re finally here … I really hate NY in this time of the day, because of these fucking traffic jams.”

Bateman’s rants still resound behind your back even when you got outside. Gently, he held your waist for support as you moved to the entrance to the grand hotel, your hand kept fixing the hem of your massive dress.

It was not surprising that Patrick chose a luxury presidential suite for you, with large rooms and high ceiling above. You couldn't hide your fascination and that made him smirk loftily whilst he was helping you to remove your half-coat. Little by little, you moved to what was supposed to be a living room and took a seat on the huge black leather couch, suppressing growing anxiety inside your chest.

“Do you like this place?” Patrick looked at you before letting out a short whistle, removing his jacket.

“Yes, it’s really nice.” Smiling timidly, you clutched at the skirt of your dress once you saw him coming closer.

“Uh, you always loved fancy things, darling,” he sat next to you, throwing his leg over another and placing his hand on the back of the couch, almost touching your shaky shoulders. “Well, nothing's too good for my wifey.”

His kiss on your lips was so sudden that it sent a million chills down your spine, causing your lungs to cramp from the lack of oxygen. At first, you clawed frantically at his solid biceps as you felt his hot tongue slide against your mouth in a demanding manner. You jolted once you gave him what he wanted, because this kiss was nothing compared to the one you shared at the wedding - it was much more passionate, but still you couldn't relax.

“Pat-Patrick, please … wait,” you whispered as your voice shook, searching for his brown eyes which now were dark as a midnight sky. “You must know one very important thing.”

“What is it, my dear?”

"I'm..." you stuttered from the way he was staring at you, his hungry gaze literally eating you alive. "I'm a virgin, Patrick."

He frowned for a moment, then laughed uproariously before pulling up the hem of your dress, messing with its countless layers. "You can't be serious."

His reaction really embarrassed you, so you just pushed his big palm away and got up, leaving him on the couch with a disappointed grimace on his face.

"Hey! Where are you going?" He asked annoyingly, his golden Rolex wiggling on his wrist as he raised his hands in confusion.

"I want to get off this dress and change into something else," you complained, trying to reach the ties at the back of your dress to undo them. "I hate it!"

It was as if he hadn't even noticed your ranting when he rejoined you: "And what about that guy from college who was hovering around you like a fucking shark? Poor guy missed his chance to get a bite of a delicious pie like you?"

Gritting your teeth, you shrugged at the unpleasant sensation and shouted: "Don't you dare talk about him like that!"

He chuckled again, in his natural haughty way. "He was always a loser, and I always knew you would be mine."

You were almost done with the ties, but as soon as you heard his last words, you froze, feeling something snap in your mind. "What did you just say?"

Bateman's grin grew even wider as you turned to face him, with an unhidden dread in your eyes. "I said I always get what I want..." He stood up and walked over to the large coffee table near the couch, taking a glass and pouring some red liquid into it. "Wine?"

When you didn't answer, he took a sip of alcohol before continuing his malicious confession: "As you probably remember, my dear (Y/N), my father wanted me to marry," with every word he said, Patrick was slowly closing the distance between the two of you. "And he also wanted me to have an heir. The American dream family, that really works best for a good social reputation".

He paused, standing almost face to face with you, you could feel his expensive perfume enveloping you like a mist. “And?”

Your curiosity made him sneer with delight, so he cupped your cheek and looked down at you, murmuring softly as if trying to lull you into a fake sense of comfort. "And then there was a business meeting with your father where I remembered you as the ideal candidate to be my wife," he smiled almost lovingly, stroking your cheekbone and placing a tender kiss on your temple. "Too bad you couldn't see the look on your father's face when we talked about it, he was as happy as if he'd won a fucking billion dollars."

Stifling the immense pain in your heart, you closed your eyes and almost fell into his embrace from the feeling of being so miserable in this selfish world. His words only proved your thoughts about being just a figure in another chase game of your dad, and according to what Bateman just told you - your father won a jackpot by forcing you to marry the son of his biggest business partner.

“But to be fair, I didn’t expect to be that lucky …” he murmured before pulling you closer, his hands traveling around your lower back. “… to get such an innocent flower.”

When Patrick kissed you on lips again, you didn’t even struggle as the dark void inside your soul was consuming all of your thoughts and feelings, leaving you completely empty. With no rush, Bateman was undoing the rest of the ties on your dress as if he was unwrapping his most desirable gift. Your throat shivered in a choked gasp, as your body was traitorously responding to each touch he made, especially when his large palms ran across your boobs to give them a slight squash.

"Baby, you don't have to be afraid of me." His suddenly charming voice sounded like honey, so sweet and stringy.

"I'm not afraid," you stared up at him, catching his hands that were now caressing your thighs. "I'm so... so fucking disappointed."

"It's understandable."

"But not for you," you scowled a bit, biting your lip to keep the salty tears from welling up in your eyes. "I'm just a toy for you... just like for my beloved father."

Suddenly Patrick's eyebrows knitted, making him look a little frustrated. "No, you're not."

"Enough lies," you wanted to push him away, but he only held you tightly, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. "This is all so fake!"

"Maybe everything around us is fake, but we are not..." he gently traced a finger along your cheek, moving down to outline your trembling lips. "We're real, and when I said I'd take care of you, it wasn't a lie."

The way he looked at you was literally captivating, it caught you off guard and you couldn't help but breathe out sharply as his plump lips nestled against the sensitive spot on your neck.

"Pat... Patrick," your hands clung to his shoulders as you desperately searched for protection, and your inner nature told you that he could do it - his strong arms were like a shield between you and the whole world. "I really want to make it work, but..."

Bateman didn't allow you to finish, pressing his thumb against your mouth and then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing as he walked into the big, fashionable bedroom. Shaking slightly, you closed your eyes from the sense of unreality that clouded your mind like the strongest alcohol.

Did he just say he was going to take care of you?

The man you had always known as a total egoist, who loved no one but himself, now covered your small frame from above as he laid you on the king-size bed, planting little kisses on your cheek before settling on his knees, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his white shirt.

"You look gorgeous, (Y/N)," he mused, taking your leg to peck at your ankle, causing your back to arch at his unexpected tenderness. "As you always do."

Cautiously, Patrick slid down your luxury wedding dress, exposing your bare skin that was not hidden under your beautiful white lingerie - just a glimpse of it made him swallow hard, and when you gave him your most innocent look, he licked his lips briefly as his nostrils began to turn red.

Panting barely audibly, Bateman stood on the floor to remove his clothes, not wasting a moment to admire your embarrassed face, the more naked he became, the more noticeably you began to fidget.

"Come here, darling." He purred like a cat and beckoned you over to sit on the edge of the bed.

There was something sweet about him, as all the girls always said when they saw him, which was probably the reason why you couldn't resist him as you obeyed and knelt beside him, waiting for his next move.

“Babydoll,” he stroked your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes again from the blissful sensation of his warm palm. “Tonight, I’m gonna guide you into the world of pure pleasure … ”

You shuddered at his promise as your insides tightened like a spring - that strange sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You'll never be the same after this, sweetheart." Bateman crooned, wrapping his hand around your neck, not to hurt you, but to make you feel his unspoken dominance.

“A-ahh,” your low moan caressed his ears and that was one of the most delighted things he ever heard. “What do you want me to do?”

Your hasty question impelled him to humm in absolute adoration, as Patrick drew near your mouth to kiss you hungirly, never in your life someone was kissing you like that, sucking on your lips one by one and biting them a bit, making you literally melt in his strong arms.

"Be yourself, (Y/N)," he whispered into your ear, hugging your shoulders before pushing on them determinedly, and now you were sprawled on the bed beneath him. "You're incredible just the way you are."

Trembling, you wanted to scream as his words worshiped your broken soul, even if he was only doing it to befuddle you and get what he wanted - in that moment, you didn't care as the strange, burning desire grew from the inside, corrupting your innocent mind by the second.

Delicately, Bateman darted his soft fingers against your belly, sliding them up to your heavy breasts, teasing your nipples with light strokes, you gasped from that contact, creasing the blanket and spreading your legs that allowed him to rest himself more comfortably.

“Good girl,” he praised you and pulled down the straps of your lingerie to expose your extremely hard peaks. “Mmm … my sweet, little girl.” He gave one of them a few licks, before he took it into his hot mouth, sucking it with pure delight.

“A-aww, Gosh … ” You wailed and enfolded your arms around his head, not even realizing you were pressing him closer.

Patrick exhaled a muffled groan and switched to your other nipple, swirling his wet tongue around it so deliciously that the tight knot in your lower abdomen was begging to be released.

“Patrick! P-Patrick please!”

“Mmm, honey, you have amazing tits,” he huffed and trapped your swollen tip between his sharp, white teeth, forcing you to freeze in silent moan of pleasure. Seizing the moment, he sneaked his long fingers between your legs to grope your taut lower lips. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet and we have only just started.”

Breathing heavily, you look up at him from under your lashes with your dazed eyes, feeling his soft finger pads slide up and down your feverish pussy. Bateman stared back at you, smirking in his arrogant way, especially when you jerked beneath him as he slipped a thumb inside your panties and pressed it against your sensitive nub.

"No one's ever touched you like this before?" Patrick asked, rubbing your clit steadily, forcing you to bend your legs into knees to give him more space to play with.

You tossed the pillows around to cover your face and just nodded, feeling his ministrations becoming more and more insistent, you didn't know how long you could stand it.

"Mmm, does that feel good, baby?" He watched you from above, admiring the view of your trembling body as his fingers slid over your cunt like clockwork, making obscene, sleek noises.

"A-arrh, yes ... mmm ... so good."

To be fair, Bateaman knew what you were going to say before you answered, because he was absolutely confident in his sex skills, and you would remember this night for a long time.

First, he left a light kiss on your side, passing your rib bones as he descended to your mound, leaving a wet trail of hickeys. Fondly, Patrick opened your hips wide apart, and he had to hold them securely as he pushed your underwear aside. You winced because you knew what he was going to do, and when he finally latched his plump lips against your blushing clit, you didn't know whether to stop him or explode right here - his skilled tongue left you with no choice.

"Mm-mmhm, ohhh God, I can't... I can't, Patrick! It's too much," you writhed on the bed, the tension in your womb too intense for you to bear. "P-Please ... ah, please ..."

Uncertain of what you were pleading for, you let him strap your legs over his broad shoulders as he lapped at your cunt without stopping, sucking your burning flesh and consuming your sweet juices like his favourite dessert. You were so fucking close to combustion when a sudden sharp pain ripped through your body, causing you to shriek in agony.

"Shh, it's all right ... I need to prep you, (Y/N)," he smooched the inside of your hip, slowly pushing his thin fingers into your spasming cleft. "Hang in there, baby. Will you do it for me?"

His voice was so soothing, so convincing. As you wiped away your tears, you saw him offer you a hand and you took it, letting your fingers intertwine. Patrick interpreted this gesture as a 'yes' and the next moment his lips found their way back to your clit, flicking it with his warm tongue and sparingly pumping your pussy with his expert fingers.

As much as he attempted to be gentle, it was still painful as he plunged deeper with each passing second. "Mmm, I..." you stammered as you felt him add another finger. "I'm scared, Patrick."

"Don't be," Bateman mused after tugging on your little tip with a squelch, slowly twisting his digits and looking at you from between your legs. "As long as you're a good girl for me, you've got nothing to worry about."

Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes from the stinging sensation of your shimmering tears. You knew there was no going back, you belonged to this man now and he could do whatever he wanted with you. Still, you tried to believe him, it might be naive and stupid, but... you just couldn't deny your sympathy towards him, especially when he treated you so kindly and lovingly.

Maybe one day you would regret it, but for now all you could do was whimper loudly and writhe on the king-size bed in the most expensive suite at the Plaza Hotel as your lawful husband was about to make you his, now and forever.

After a while, your taut body couldn't take any more of the crazy mix of pain and ecstasy that was intoxicating your mind - you orgasmed so vividly that you were afraid you were going to pass out from the feeling of your inner walls pulsating again and again.

"Yes ... just like that, honey," Patrick murmured, his fingers still pounding into your spasming cunt, prolonging your climax and it seemed you were about to cum again. "Ahhh, baby, you make me so proud."

"Patrick..." your chest rose and fell so abruptly that your face burned from the heat, as if someone had poured hot tea on you. "Mmm..."

You only managed to squeak out as Bateman suddenly rolled you over, forcing you to stay on your knees as he sat behind you. Shit, he was so huge, you felt so tiny in his arms, especially when he wrapped them around you to plant a sloppy kiss on your neck, he could feel the artery beating so fast.

"You'll like it, believe me," he chuckled softly before pushing down on your back to bend you over. "It will hurt, I admit, but not for too long."

At the very last moment, a creeping fear took over your mind and even after several orgasms he had worked you up, you couldn't relax, knowing the pain to come. Nervously, you bent down to rest your head on your crossed elbows, his hot flesh poking at your tight little hole. God, he was so big... you knew it from the time you danced close together at your wedding, your inner channel clenching around nothing in anticipation of what would happen next.

"(Y/N)," he called your name longingly, stroking his full length as he spread your wetness around his engorged head. "I've never wanted someone as badly as I want you now."

Bateman lowered himself to lick your neck, and then you screamed loudly as he began to thrust into you, gripping your hips tightly as you instinctively tried to slip away.

"Pat! Mmm, I'm so f-full, Goshhh," you tried your best to hold yourself back from crying, but the tearing sensation in your lower abdomen was too much to handle. "W-wait!"

"Almost there, darling," Patrick lied, as it was only the tip, but he didn't want to make the current situation any worse, so he decided to just keep going, ramming into you with more effort, grabbing you by the waist and almost digging his fingers into your delicate skin. "You're doing so well, mmmm ... F-fuck, you're so tight, baby."

Bateman really tried to control himself, but the way you embraced his thick cock was too blissful, it brought out his inner beast faster than he thought.

"Aaa-awww, so... so big, oh mmmm," your eyes rolled back in your head as he buried himself completely into your squeezed womb, your saliva dripping uncontrollably from your mouth. "Ah! It hurts..."

Without hesitation, Patrick leaned down to your neck and tongued your earlobe in order to soothe you a little, and when that didn't help, he cupped your face to bring you closer as his red-hot lips locked with yours. Passionately, he attacked your mouth, sucking and licking your tongue with a slurpy sound.

"You will give me a child, sweetheart," Bateman muttered in a demanding tone before forcing you to sit on your knees and covering you from behind. "A beautiful son..." he thrust deeper, holding you by the neck. "...or a daughter...or both."

The sounds of flesh meeting flesh mixed with the squelching your pussy made each time his beefy shaft moved in and out of your inner channel, relentlessly hitting your cervix with its tip.

"Yes, P-Patrick ... I'll do anything you ... want ... aaaww!" Your ability to speak diminished each time he rocked into your body, pressing you closer to his solid muscles as he settled more comfortably on his knees beside you.

"Of course, you will, baby girl."

Bateman was about to lose it at any moment from the way your tight hole was squeezing his dick, and your lascivious moans only encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster.

"Do you feel that love?" Patrick put his hand on your belly, impaling you relentlessly on his thick cock. "Can you feel my dick hitting your belly? Arrgh-fuck, you're so delicate and fragile ... I'm even afraid of breaking you."

After his brief confession, Bateman took your palm and placed it on your tummy, so you could sense the outline of his huge dick sliding inside you, and that sensation literally made you choke on air.

"I feel it ... Patrick, I f-feel it ... aaah," you threw your head back, resting it on his sturdy shoulder. "Patrick..."

You mumbled his name over and over as a saving mantra, your eyes now full of tears, and as if that was not enough, his hips began to slam into yours with increasing intensity. For a moment you found yourself fading away from the tremendous sensation of being so fucking full and abused that you couldn't even pronounce a world, only moaning wildly as you were fucking like animals, so ruthless and totally out of control.

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna make you pregnant again and again, mm-my dear wifey," he suddenly lowered his palm down your mound to rub your oversensitive bud, smearing your slick all around your pubic area and causing your legs to tremble frantically. "Shit," he felt you clenching around his dick as you climaxed so abruptly from his rubbing circular movements. He watched you quiver in his arms, your mouth paralysed in a silent cry as he kissed your temple and contemplated: "I wanna see your belly swell with my child ... I bet you'll look so beautiful, ahh-fuck."

Growling, Patrick closed his eyes from the surging ecstasy that soon consumed him, causing his whole body to cramp and his thrusts to become absolutely raw but ragged. As he pumped his fertile seed into your pussy, he didn't stop ramming into you, holding you tightly in his muscular arms until he was spent to the last drop. The feeling of warm cum filling you from the inside was so overwhelming that you didn't have time to be afraid, as if it was destined to happen before you could even think.

‘Just be a good wifey for him,' kept nagging at the back of your mind, your tears falling on your sweaty body as your eyes were wide open, staring at that one spot on the ceiling above with bitter sorrow in your chest.

From now on, you would never belong to yourself again. Not ever.

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whereireid · 1 year

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𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐘 — masterlist

pairing: patrick bateman x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He decides to humour you.

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

Surprisingly, it doesn't work.

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

"Just put it in your mouth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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sl4sh3rsub · 3 months

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patrick bateman hcs (nsfw: mdni)

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

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

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

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

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

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

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

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

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

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

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

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

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

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

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

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

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

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

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

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

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

mtf hcs

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

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

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

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

_ _ _ _ _

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

stay safe.

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hanasnx · 25 days

Text

hip to be square.

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

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

You're engaged to him.

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

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

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

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horror102 · 1 year

Text

Code blue. Crybaby.

Prompt: When we were young, Patrick Bateman X GN! Reader.

You’ve changed, oh how you’ve changed. But just this once, let the memories never fade away.

Headcanons!

Patrick Bateman.

Your family had always been lower class, Patrick’s Parents having money always paid your rent during your struggle.

You were embarrassed that his family were richer than yours.

You hated that Patrick brought you gifts.

You hated that you were two young foolish teenagers, Patrick known for being rebellious and you for being the angel child.

Patrick had always been mean to you, but god was he the first person to defend you to anything.

When you too were alone he’d talk about the stars, your favorite colors. Try to pry you into telling him the most expensive thing you want for you birthday so he could buy it.

He would smile at you, defend you everytime you got into a fight at school or argument. How the person would somehow get Doxxed after dealing with you.

He’d listen to your music and listen to you horribly sing with a sickening pleasurable smile on his face.

He’d laugh at you with his friends, but if any of them were to make a joke about you he’d beat them to a pulp.

You were never sure if you two were friends or enemies.

Until one night, Patrick stated that he needed help, Patrick never needs help. So immediately you snuck out and went to save him.

Just to see him peacefully sitting on his jacket on the perfectly cut grass with a huge blanket covering the ground.

“Sit.” He told you, you sat. You questioned him about the whole thing and he simply dismissed you.

Asking you what you thought about love, what you thought about hate. What would you do with powerful success, your thought on vengeful murder.

Every-time he looked at you, and every-time you’d respond he’d tell you, your different. He’d say, sweet things and then randomly shut down.

He’d tell you about your eyes, and lean closer toward you with his hand cradling yours.

He’d place a kiss on your lips under the night stars, he’d separate the kiss with a confused look on his face. A soft smile in the cracks of his face.

You’d walk home in silence, immediately when you departed you. He’d call you, asking you “how was the kiss?” He’d tease you “I mean it must’ve felt pretty great if you want to see me again.”

After that, he announced it publicly that you two were dating, the whole school and teachers knew, people would intentionally flirt with Patrick just to see if his attention would change, but his eyes stayed on you.

Bullying came, people made you feel like a disgrace dating Patrick, made you feel broken and poor inside.

He tried his best to stop it, bribing, fighting, cursing, but more and more came.

Eventually you had to switch schools, Patrick in a different one from you but staying loyal.

You couldn’t handle it all, you couldn’t handle the backlash, you couldn’t handle the fame. So you ended it.

Calls on calls on calls you ignored.

You grew up, you departed. You eventually forgot about the kiss, and Patrick remembered everything about it. Was the kiss not good enough for you to stay? Did he not buy you enough gifts? Did he not compliment you enough?

That’s it. He’d strive to be perfect. He’d show you that you should come back. And he’d give you double as much.

But eventually he saw you were never coming back, he knew that he’d never kiss you again. That he’d never hear you whisper his name. He’d never hear you scold him.

He grew, and grew. But every now and then you’d cross his mind. And he’d place a soft hand on his lips. Trying to remember your touch, And what your voice sounded like.

#slasher community #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #slasher fucker #slashers #slasher imagines #patrick bateman #sigma male #Patrick Bateman X reader #Patrick Bateman X GN reader #patrick bateman x male reader #Patrick Bateman X female reader #Patrick Bateman X non-binary reader

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vcnillazelda · 1 year

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general dating patrick bateman hc’s

tags: mild toxic relationship & misogyny, protectiveness/possessiveness, jealousy, mentioned cheating

✞———————❖———————✞

he rarely lets you leave his apartment

he has enough money to support the two of you so in his mind you don’t have to work

plus, if you’re female, he will want you to be a housewife ngl (he just likes the idea of being the breadwinner in your relationship)

this doesn’t mean he completely isolates you tho, when he’s there you’re allowed to go, but he doesn’t worry as much (even if he won’t admit it) if he knows you’re at home

you can pretty much only leave if he’s with you, so if you go shopping he’s coming with, if your friends are taking you out to a party he’s stuck to your side like a parasite.

if you left without him bc he was busy, he’d probably blow up your phone asking where you were, if you were safe and if you needed him to come and get you.

he’ll try to play it off somehow, but you know he’s just protective

if someone flirts with you, they’re probably gonna go missing

he won’t ever tell you that he kills people, but does warn you of his homicidal tendencies/thoughts

will never admit that he likes spooning you

if you ask for cuddles he’ll look at you as if you’re an alien, but if you just do it he won’t stop you

is a good cuddler too, he’s always warm and comfortable and his lithe arms are always secure around you

will low-key brag to his coworkers about you when they talk about their partners

at first, he dated you for status so people would stop trying to set him up on dates, meaning he was quite cold in the beginning of your relationship

but he does genuinely grow to love you in his own weird way

#patrick bateman #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x female reader #// 🍨 vcnillazelda #// 🍨 slashers #// 🍨 patrick bateman

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aalyssah · 2 months

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Period

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Word Count: 1,086

Summary: When watching a movie at Patrick's house, you stand up and notice a big red spot you left. What happens when Patrick finds out the mess you caused on his white couch?

A/N: It feels kinda weird writing for Patrick as a 'normal' boyfriend. Hope You Enjoy!

"I'll be at your place at 6 to pick you up. See ya, sweetheart."

Those words came out of Patrick's mouth before he left the small flower shop. You and Patrick have been going out for some time, yet to take the next step in your relationship, but he just invited you to a movie night at his apartment, and who were you to say no?

You were very excited, jumping at the counter as you continued to work and the moment your shift was over, you were out the door, running to your house down the street. As you entered your room, you looked at the clock.

5:20.

You spent the next 40 minutes getting ready and picking out a comfy, but cute outfit. You wanted to somewhat impress Patrick, but you already knew he was impressed.

A knock at the door caught your attention. You looked in the mirror, giving yourself a quick smile before going to the door. You opened it to see Patrick still in his suit from earlier, standing there smiling.

"Hey Patty!" Patrick kept a smile on his face at your nickname. "Gosh, you look so pretty, do a little spin for me." Patrick said, gently taking your hand. You giggled, doing a little twirling. "Well, got the movie ready at the apartment, just need to get some snacks on our way." You locked up your house and went to the car with Patrick.

After getting snacks, you found yourself taking the elevator up to his apartment.

It wasn't a secret that Patrick was rich. His car could tell it to you, but it still surprised you to see the place he called home.

When you walked in, it was spotless and it looked so modern. White, clean, and just like how he dresses.

Patrick grabbed the bag of chips from your hand, chuckling at your face. "Woah, this is your house?" You asked in disbelief. Patrick nodded his head. "Yep, only pay $4500 a month. Something light, y'know?" Your mouth dropped open, shaking your head slowly.

"Something light? You pay more than I make in 5 months. This is beautiful!" Patrick brought all the snacks to the small coffee table in front of his couch. "C'mere sweets, this is technically your place too." You made slow steps, taking a seat next to him.

You took your flats off, setting them aside while Patrick started up the movie, his hands going to pull you close to him. You snuggled up in his chest, bringing your legs up on the couch. Patrick had a huge smile on his face, seeing you so comfortable next to him.

You were very enthralled as you watched the movie, bringing a piece of popcorn to your lips every now and then. The movie was all going good until you felt your eyes begin to droop as tiredness took over you.

You fought to stay awake, knowing Patrick took the time to plan this night, but after working your shift for 8 hours and barely getting any sleep last night, it was bound for you to fall asleep.

As you watched a girl kiss a guy in the movie your eyes closed and black took over your vision. After a minute Patrick looked down to see you fast asleep.

You looked so adorable in his eyes.

He let you rest, continuing to watch the movie and eat the snacks provided on the table.

It was only after 2 hours that you woke up groaning, feeling Patrick move. When you opened your eyes you saw him standing beside you, fixing his suit. "It's 7, baby, let's go to bed, yeah?" Patrick said, walking to his bedroom, knowing you would follow him.

You let out a small yawn, standing up, but as you did, you felt a rush of gush in your panties. Confusion took over your face. Was it discharge? You turned around and to your horror you saw a huge spot of red on his couch. You gasped, instantly sitting back down on the spot as you heard his footsteps.

When did your period even come on? Why did it have to come now, especially at Patrick's house on his white couch!

“Love?" You heard Patrick call out. You awkwardly turned around with a smile on your face. "Yeah?" Patrick's eyebrows furrowed seeing your reaction. You were sweating and looking very nervous.

"You coming?" You hummed, avoiding answering his question. "I said, are you coming? I got a pair of sweatpants you can borrow in here." You didn't answer him, feeling tears come to your eyes. You know you have no choice, but to get up.

Patrick noticed how distracted you looked and walked over to you. "Y/n?" You looked up at him, your glossy eyes on display. "What's wrong? Talk to me, please." Patrick pleaded.

You let out a breath, looking down at your feet, while fidgeting with your fingers. "If I get up will you promise not to break up with me?" Now this had Patrick even more concerned.

Why would he break up with you? "Why would I- Yes, I promise." You closed your eyes, gulping as you stood up. You watched his reaction as you stepped away from the couch, ready for him to yell at you.

Everything in his house was expensive and for you to just mess something up broke you.

You looked at his face, expecting to see anger take over his expression, but instead he said, "Is this what you were so concerned about?" Shock took over your face, as he said that.

"Look, Patty, I'm so sorry! I messed up your couch, and it's white, and expensive, and I-I’ll try to get you the money back and I totally understand if you-" Patrick cut you off, grabbing you and pulling you in for a kiss.

Patrick slowly pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, looking deeply into your eyes. "There's no need to be so stressed. I can get a new one, love. It’s nothing, I swear." The way he said it so nonchalantly almost made you giggle.

"Stay right here. Imma run to the gas station around the corner and get you some pads, tampons, and chocolate just in case you're craving anything." You didn't have enough time to say anything as Patrick grabbed his car keys and took off outside his apartment.

As the door closed, a smile came to your face. Who would've thought Patrick would be so supportive during your period.

#patrick bateman #patrick bateman fluff #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman smut #slasher fluff #american physco

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sourbvgs · 1 year

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...𝙝𝙪𝙜?

patrick bateman x reader

summary: you want to show him how much you care.

tags: established relationship, short fic, pda, patrick might be ooc, i hc he’s going to therapy and living his best life 🤩

✧─── ★: *.✦ .* :★ ───✧

your job was somewhat difficult, yet you loved it. patrick, your lover and coworker, was always nearby. he would hover awkwardly, sometimes placing a hand upon your back when you were talking to others. you were waiting beside the printer, watching your essay being printed. patrick was stood nearby, clicking some buttons upon his walkman. you look to him, he looks kind of bored, but you know that’s just his resting face and that he’s absorbed in fiddling with his new walkman. you had gotten it for his birthday, and he had smiled brightly. your essay was only halfway printed, and you knew if you left someone would either take or shred your paper. patrick puts his walkman into his pocket, observing a newly bought painting that was decorating the hallway. you look over to him with a smile, adoring how he looked. you always felt so lucky to be able to call him yours.

“patty.” you call his name, and he looks to you. smiling, you extend your hand and he glances to it. “c’mere…” you beckon him over, and patrick steps closer, letting you intertwine your fingers with his. you let your arm press to his, squeezing his hand. the two of you never really expressed pda, but hand holding was okay for him. eventually, you rest your head to his shoulder, other hand cradling his wrist. patrick squeezes your hand a little, growing a little anxious. your fingers massage his wrist, just below his very expensive watch. your essay was almost finished printing, yet you didn’t really care. “patrick…” you mutter, pulling his attention from his music. “yes?” he asks, very deadpan.

“hug?” you smile, opening your arms up for him. patrick blinks, hesitating for a moment. “…okay.” patrick responds, wrapping his arms around you. you hug him tight, resting your head to his shoulder. patrick sits quietly, glaring at anyone who would walk past. eventually, you sway with patrick slightly, hands running circles over his back. your boyfriend sighs a little, relaxing further into your grip. you both didn’t really express much physical love outside of sex, but you always wanted to be a little sweet on patrick. you wanted to show him how much you loved him outside of little notes beside his lunch or soft words when he slept.

“i love you, patrick.” you mutter to him, and he hums softly. “i love you too…” he responds, voice hesitating. “i love you more.” you grin at him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “your essay is finished…” patrick flusters, looking away from you. “alright, sweetie. love you.” you giggle, kissing his flustered cheek once more. just before you can turn away, he steals a quick kiss from your lips and separating from you. you give patrick a soft smile, collecting your essay. carefully tucking your essay under your arm, you hold patrick’s hand as the two of you walk through the office. he squeezes a little, pushing his headphone over his ear once more as he zones out, gripping your hand tightly.

#patrick bateman #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x female reader #american psycho #american psycho x reader #// 🪷 sourbvgs

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multific · 2 years

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Protective Father

Patrick Bateman x Reader

Summary: Patrick was always extremely protective of you, you thought that was too much, then you gave birth.

A/N: This is a little follow-up to my headcanons, requested by a lovely person.

“I’d kill anyone who even dares to look at the two of you in a bad way.” he confessed one night as the two of you were on the couch, his hand on your stomach. You read a book as he spoke to your baby.

“Aww! Patrick, thank you.” you fully knew he was serious but there was a spark in his eyes that you loved and so you kissed him.

When your son learned how to walk is when the real struggle began for Patrick.

He was on the heels of the baby all the time, even protecting him from flies. Before he could walk, Patrick would carry him everywhere. Barely letting him go for a moment.

When your son learned how to run is when the ultimate struggle began for Patrick.

You try to tell him that it was OK, that your son is going to be fine, nothing can hurt him but you also know your husband and you knew that he was not going to stop just because you asked him nicely once.

So just as your little boy started to grow so did your husband's worries and slowly but surely he became overprotective.

There were times even when you were at the park just taking a simple walk letting your baby run and play around, one time, he fell off of a swing which worried Patrick so incredibly that you have never seen him panic more than that day. But the icing on the cake was that your son wasn't even hurt, he just cried a little because he got scared but he was perfectly fine he even got ice cream after it.

But you will never forget the panic in Patrick when he ran as fast as he could to his son to help him up.

Even if little Richard wasn't hurt, Patrick couldn't let it go, he wanted to be 100% sure his son wasn't hurt and that he had everything he needed.

You often saw this as spoiling him, you didn't want your son to become a brat, but you understood where Patrick was coming from, the little boy was too precious.

And this is exactly what you expected from Patrick Bateman himself.

A father who spoils their child.

You had your baby on your hip, he was super interested in you cooking dinner, so he was your little helper.

Although mostly he just asked for juice or to taste something, with Richard being five, you wanted to show him the world as much as possible. And he seemed to be very interested in cooking and baking.

You put him on the counter when you needed to cut something. You taught him not to touch anything on the oven, you taught him it would hurt and he was an intelligent little man, so he never even tried.

"What are you two doing?" asked Patrick behind you.

"Dinner." you said as you stirred the pot, out of the corner of your eye you noticed Patrick pulling your son just a bit further away from the stove. You wanted to roll your eyes but you only smiled as you looked at them. "I'm almost ready, can you set the table please?"

And surely they did. You turned off the stove when you heard your son whine.

"Richard, let me do it, you might hurt yourself." you heard Patrick before you pocked your head out and saw your son with the forks in his tiny hand, holding on for dear life.

"I wanna." he said and you wanted to laugh, but you also wanted to see how Patrick will handle this.

He let out a long sigh. "You will hurt yourself, let Daddy do this."

"No." he was just as stubborn as your husband. Tiny knuckles turning white as he held the forks as if his life depended on them.

"Okay, then let's do it together?" Patrick ended up offering since he knew he wouldn't get through to Richard.

You smiled at the cute scene as Patrick lifted his son and helped him, trying to teach him a little about where and how to place utensils, but all little Richie saw was the cute Mickey Mouse utensil set you bought him.

You wanted to laugh, no matter how stubborn your husband was, your son was the same if not worse.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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makeyoumine69 · 8 months

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Clingy!Patrick Bateman x Insecure!Fem!Reader | NSFW HEADCANON

— A/N: This is the winner of my poll about headcanons, you can leave comments about what headcanons you want me to do in the future, hope you like this one!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

Being Bateman's lover was not easy at all — the constant attention, the greedy looks and flirtatious smiles from everyone who saw him actually made you sad, even insecure.

And Patrick knew that, and he didn't really like it, so no matter where you were — at his or your family's house, at some random party or dinner — his strong hands were always on you, stroking your back, squeezing your hips and groping your ass. Sometimes he'd even get his hands on your breasts, and you'd squeal with surprise and embarrassment, but Bateman would just chuckle and try to play with your nipples through the fabric of whatever you were wearing, especially if you didn't have a bra.

If you ever told him that you were insecure or even afraid that he was having an affair, it would certainly boost his ego and he couldn't help but laugh at your worries, while the sadness and pain would tear him apart from the inside because of how many times he had told you that he had his eyes only on you.

Your anxiety would only encourage him to be more overprotective and intimate with you, even though Patrick never liked the intense physical contact during sex, he would let you hold him tight as he fucked you senseless. He would let you pull on his silky hair while he devoured your soaped pussy, moaning as you grinded against his face. Marking would become his favorite kink, after each passionate love session he would admire the result of his work, tracing his fingers along his bite marks. It would hurt but you could take it because you were his good girl.

Even one mention of another woman — Jean, Evelyn or Courtney — would be enough for him to bend you over the back of his white couch, pull up your skirt and give you several hard slaps on your butt.

"Mhm! Pat-Patrick!" You moaned as you felt his long fingers work between your legs, smearing your wetness along your delicate petals.

"Have I told you how much I hate it when you say things like that?" Bateman growled into your ear after kissing the length of your neck. "Have I told you that, brat?"

"Yes," your voice trembled with the excitement of his firm hips rubbing vigorously against your dripping cunt. "I'm sorry, Daddy!" You whimpered, trying to get up, but he pushed you back, pressing your face against the couch and grabbing your throat.

"No, no, no, little one. You're not going anywhere until I say so."

With that, Bateman would undo his pants with ease, grunting from how painfully hard he was — his throbbing dick would pop out of his expensive underwear, and he wouldn't care to prepare you properly after your bad behavior.

Savagely, Patrick would thrust into your little hole up to his heavy balls, burying his digits in your soft skin and closing his eyes from the blissful sensation of your hot, soaked pussy.

"F-fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart," he hissed and gave another long stroke, reveling in your lewd sounds as you tried your best not to cum here and now — you didn't want to feed his ego any more, because this bastard was arrogant enough. "Mmmm, I'm gonna fuck all those stupid thoughts out of your head!"

His low panting echoed in your voice like a hypnotic melody, and the only thing you could do was to bend even lower and spread your legs for him as he railed you hard, spanking your ass and yanking your hair.

Bateman always kept his word and maybe one day you would finally believe you were his only one, yet sometimes Patrick thought you were doing it on purpose as you just loved being fucked like a whore.

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

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whereireid · 1 year

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𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 | masterlist

pairing: patrick bateman x fem!reader

— warnings: nsfw content ! bondage, rope, ptrick bateman, p in v, mentions of murderous urges

summary: There's a thin line between pleasure and pain. Patrick lets you walk that line — if anyone else did, it would snap.

"Do you like it?”

Patrick’s voice is sultry, calm; a lewd illusion of the man he is, the desire which consumes him. Being bound to his bed with rope is surreal - you squirm under his cool touch, trying to hide the discomfort which pulsates through you.

“It’s different.” Your voice is hoarse, but you’re honest, and Patrick grins in response. “It feels too tight.”

“I could’ve made it tighter.” Patrick's breath fans your neck, and you’re suddenly more aware of how out-of-place he looks. Whilst you’re naked, splayed in front of him ready to be devoured, he’s fully dressed in a Valentino, classic charcoal, pinstriped double-breasted suit. His suited arms reach up towards your bound wrists, and your eyes flitter shut as you imagine what he would look like naked - how his arms would flex as he loosens the rope slightly. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Patrick.”

His hum of approval vibrates through you, as his fingers dart over your thighs, before slowly trailing toward your cunt. “I want to do terrible things to you. Do you know that? I want to—“ Patrick’s fingers shake slightly and his voice wavers, his digits darting over your slits and finding a home in your cunt. “—I want to ruin you.”

“But you won’t.” Your eyes squeeze shut as his fingers curl inside you, his hand growing slick with your wetness. Satisfied squelches echo across his bedroom, and your stomach tightens with each come hither motion of his fingers.

“But I won’t.” Patrick agrees, letting out a shaky breath that jitters against your neck. “Because when I start ruining you, I’m not going to be able to stop. I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll wish you were dead and maybe at the end of it all, you would be.”

“So I’m spared,” you breathe, a broken mewl slipping past your lips as Patrick’s fingers effortlessly flicker you closer and closer to an orgasm. There is an imaginary coil inside of you, and it feels as though it is going to snap - the ever-growing pressure on the special spot inside of your cunt is constant, and his motions are consistent, specialized. “You’ll spare me?”

“I’ll do more than spare you. I’m going to fuck you like I love you and maybe I do, but then again, maybe I don’t.”

The crassness of his voice, the harshness of his words, and the overwhelming stimulant of his fingers fucking you so good is what sends you over the edge. The coil snaps - breaks in half, sending shockwaves of electricity pulsing through you, your legs shaking as Patrick continues to toy with your cunt, a bored expression on his face.

“My suit is drenched in your cum.” Patrick comments, slathering your wet against your thighs and stomach, crinkling his nose as he gently begins to undress himself. “Remind me to take this to the dry-cleaners, later.”

The conversation is so… nonchalant, so familiar. He talks to you like he’d talk to a lover - but are you his partner or just his plaything? Cold engulfs you and you shiver, but Patrick tuts, his cock hard and red as he nestles himself between your thighs.

“You’re cold.” He notes.

“I am.” You reply.

Patrick is odd - weird, a loser, but he consumes you. All you can think of day and night is Patrick, his slender fingers and skillful tongue, his angry and red cock which stuffs you perfectly and leaves you forever wanting. “What are you doing?”

Patrick’s fingers toy with the rope on your wrists. “Are they still too tight?”

“No. You fixed them earlier.” It makes your face flush when his cock presses against your slits, somehow perfectly aligned with your clit as he reaches further forward to loosen the restraints a tiny bit more. “Patrick-“

“I think you’re the only person I could ever love,” Patrick interrupts randomly with a mumble, repositioning himself and opening your thighs slightly wider. “If I tried. I could be a good husband, you know, a good father. Do you want that?”

Is he talking to you or himself? You don’t know anymore, letting him ramble on as he slowly pushes his cock inside of you. And it’s amazing - of course - it’s instant ecstasy because you were made for him, and he for you. You sheath him perfectly - and a broken moan bubbles up your throat as he snaps his hips slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in thought and his fingers digging into your thighs, his grip so tight it’s going to leave behind bruises.

“I will never hurt you.” Patrick tells himself - reassures himself, because you know it’s a lie as he’s hurting you right now. All he does is hurt you, leaves you insecure and violated, feeling guilty for the marks you’ve let him leave behind, feeling anguish as he leaves you for his skanky fiancé, night after night. “I will never hurt you. I can’t. I won’t. Do you hear me?”

Quiet gasps leave you as Patrick peppers gentle kisses against your chest. He groans into your skin as he fucks you, his balls heavy and sore as they smack into your ass. The rhythm he has is perfect - hard and slow, and the curve of his cock hits the special spot inside of you and it just feels so, so good. Everything feels amazing - feels perfect. You’re engulfed in him, the scent of his cologne and the nestling of his cock inside of you, and what have you done to deserve this?

“Do you hear me?” Patrick is slightly breathless, his eyes somewhat starry, and he looks down at you with something that could resemble adoration. And you gaze back, lovingly, because you love him, and you nod your head, but you don’t hear him - not really, because you’re too focused on feeling him.

And he feels good. It’s like you’re milking his cock - so tight and clenched down around him as the imaginary coil begins to wither away, your belly growing warm with each snap of his hips. “I want that, Patrick.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he tells himself as he tugs on the rope, leaving your skin burning in its wake. “I won’t.”

You can hear him. It’s a battle with himself. There is a thin line between pleasure and pain with Patrick, and he lets you walk that line. And he will continue to let you do so. Because you walk it prim and proper. You’re so focused on his words; "I could be a good husband, you know, a good father. Do you want that?" that you don’t care when he grips your face so hard it feels like your cheekbones are going to smash and your skull is going to turn into putty.

“Patrick," you gasp, incoherent as you feel his cum begin to fill you. "I want all of you.”

taglist: @makeyoumine69

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justsomerandomfanfic · 11 months

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Simply Not There - Patrick Bateman X Female Reader

Title: Simply Not There

Patrick Bateman X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Paul (Mentioned) and Reader's friend (Mentioned)

WC: 3,088

Warnings: Suggestive themes (it's mentioned briefly), gore mentioned, murder mentioned, cursing, blood mentioned, American Psycho canon violence mentioned, The Shining storyline mentioned, slight angst, and fluff

You stood, leaned against the wall of Patrick's apartment, looking through the many movies he had above his TV. Raking your fingers against the thick cases of the VHS tapes, the tip of your finger paused on one movie, 'Body Double'. It was Patrick's favorite movie, one he spoke of a lot with you, or anyone who'd listen for that matter. It was an alright movie, you've watched it a couple of times whenever Patrick was watching it after a long day at work, or on the weekends. It was about a man who got fired and dumped by his girlfriend, and while house-sitting, he witnesses a murder from the house across from him; which then leads him to try and solve the case. You were pretty bored, Patrick being at work and all, so you wanted to do something. You could go out, maybe see a movie in theaters, but you didn't really feel like going out and being among people. Deciding not to watch the movie, you continued looking through Patrick's movies until you gave up on finding anything to watch in his collection; filled with suggestive thrillers, gory horror, and crime.

Pushing off the wall, you walked to Patrick's bedroom, your socked feet slightly slipping on the floor as you practically dragged yourself into the room. Going over to the large bed, covered in crisp white sheets, you went to your side; where you usually stayed the night, and got down on your knees. Reaching under the bed, you pulled out a small bin. Since you lived in your own apartment, you didn't really need to keep much of anything at Patrick's apartment. Just a few spare clothes, your mug for your morning coffee, and other necessities, but not a lot. The one thing you made sure to bring after hanging out and spending time with Patrick, were your own movies. Not that you weren't alright with watching some of his movies from time to time, you enjoyed some of them, if not most; 'Scarface,' 'Blue City'... But you liked to watch your movies too. Flipping through the VHS boxes in the bin, you passed through such movies as 'The Dark Crystal,' 'Batman,' 'The Breakfast Club,' and 'The Princess Bride,' until you came across a movie that piqued your interest. 'The Shining.'

You didn't understand why Patrick didn't have this movie in his collection. It was dark, gory at times, a bit suggestive, with large dashes of psychological horror. You thought it'd be right up his alley, but it didn't really seem to be the case. After all, he didn't have it in his collection and always kept everything pristine and in order. Pushing the bin back under the bed, you stood up with the VHS case in your hand. Walking across the floor, you paused at the door. Looking back at the bed, you worried on your bottom lip, staring at Patrick's pillow. Your mind battled itself as you thought about the pros and cons of just stealing his pillow. You knew Patrick hated when you moved or really touched his things without asking him or letting him know. You understood that, you felt the same with some of your things. You knew he had some sort of OCD, aside from that he was a perfectionist; needed everything to be perfect all the time. So, stealing his pillow, from its rightful spot on his neatly made bed... Would probably irritate the hell out of him when he got home. But, the pros of this, stealing his pillow... Would be that you could cuddle with it, hold it while you sat on the couch watching your movie, and pretend he was with you as the smell of his expensive cologne engulfed you.

You were going to take that risk, whatever the risk was. Speeding over, you grabbed the pillow before heading back into the living room. Clutching the pillow under one arm, you could already smell Patrick's cologne as you took your movie out of the case and slid the VHS tape into the VHS player. Grabbing the remote, you fell onto the couch, wiggling around to get comfortable as you tucked your legs under yourself. You fast-forwarded the trailers for other movies and commercials before you began your movie; snuggling your back against the plush of the couch, pressed flush against it. Wrapping both arms around Patrick's pillow, you dug your face into it briefly, inhaling deeply. Letting out a content sigh, you closed your eyes, relaxing further into the couch, savoring the feeling before paying attention to your movie as the opening credits began.

You didn't hear the sound of rattling keys or the door knob turning as Patrick entered his apartment. Immediately he paused, hearing the sound of his TV playing in the living room. Shutting the door, he slowly made his way into said room, quickly spotting you huddled on his couch, eyes glued to the TV in front of you. Patrick turned to the television, observing it briefly before turning his cold gaze back to you. You didn't hear him come in, he speculated, before making himself known.

"I didn't know you were coming over." He spoke up, monotonously, making you jolt from surprise.

You turned to see Patrick, eyes wide with your hand over your heart; beating heavily against your ribcage as you let out a deep exhale. "Patty, you scared me." Patrick didn't say a thing, instead walking over to the side of the couch and peering over at you, his eyes quickly finding you clutching tightly onto his pillow. You noticed his gaze, looking down at the pillow and back up at the man. "I missed you." You gave him an explanation, your voice soft, as you watched him nervously. Not that you were scared of what he might do, but because you didn't want him to push you away. He tried once, but that didn't really work out for him.

Wordlessly, Patrick walked over, staring down at you with his dark, almost soulless eyes, snatching the pillow out of your arms. You watched, your own self silent, as he walked off to supposedly his bedroom, before returning. You watched him as he then sat down beside you, his left arm wrapping onto the back of the couch behind you. You glanced up at him once more as he simply ignored you, his eyes finding themselves on the TV just as the elevator began to open and spill out gallons upon gallons of blood. You turned back to your movie, becoming more and more at ease as the movie continued, realizing that Patrick wasn't going to scold you and let you know that if you were anyone else, he would've killed you.

He did that sometimes. You knew he couldn't help it, the thoughts and the feelings he got after talking to someone. How he craved blood and hated when people made him feel inferior. Well, he didn't tell you that, but your extensive knowledge of psychology helped you figure that one out. He told you about the time at that bar with the bartender and that Paul guy from his work at Pierce & Pierce. He stopped talking about Paul a couple of months ago, and you had an eerie feeling that Patrick had done something. Something that, thankfully, hadn't been happening as frequently as it used to anymore. To your knowledge.

But you loved Patrick. Deeply. Under that mask he wore, yes, he was a bit shallow and maybe a bit greedy, but he could be charming when he wanted to be. You admired how calm he could be, how collected he could become. Aside from how attractive he was, and how stylish he was, you found him incredibly intelligent and determined. The more you spent time with him, the more you fell for him. The more your attraction turned into one of love. And there was nothing he could say or do could change that. Nothing others could say or do could change that either.

Yes, many people in your life had tried to warn you about Patrick, before and even when you began dating. It started with your best friend, who said that they had a terrible feeling about the guy after you introduced them to Patrick. They said his eyes were dull, his polite inflection in his voice was dry, and his laugh was humorless, almost unnerving. They called him a sociopath. Unable to feel anything, or understand the feelings of others. From just one lunch date, you had no idea where they came up with that so fast, but you had figured that out about Patrick after the first week of dating.

In the beginning, Patrick was pretty cold-hearted, not really caring much about you, and only himself. During dates at fancy restaurants, he'd talk about himself, and complain about the waitress or the wine. He even ordered for you a couple of times. And when the waitress asked if you and Patrick would like to hear about the specials, he replied, 'Not if you want to keep your spleen.' Though, when you thought that the date with Patrick was fruitless, minus his good looks and intelligence that had pulled you to him in the first place, he made a joke.

He leaned back against the back of his seat, glancing around the room with a wide grin. He was talking about something, but you weren't fully paying attention, thinking about how vain and selfish he was before his next words gained your attention, "Even people who are good for nothing have the capacity to bring a smile to your face, like when you push them down the stairs." He said so simply, so easily as if he was saying something completely normal. As if that joke of his wasn't dark, grim. But that didn't stop you from cracking a smile, even letting out a small laugh. Patrick stared at you. His fake smile slipped into a confused frown as he wondered why you were laughing. Were you laughing at him?

"That's pretty funny," You had said, now ignoring his vain and selfish nature and falling deep into his dark sense of humor. It intrigued you.

"What is so funny?" He had then asked, his voice a bit deeper as his mind raced with different scenarios in which to kill you. You had to have been laughing at him, right?

You could only shake your head slightly, swirling the wine glass in your hand, "That joke. I've always been a fan of those kinds of jokes. Dark jokes can be offensive to some, but to me, I find them rather... Refreshing." You took a sip of your red wine, your eyes staring right into his.

That's when Patrick knew that you were different.

And different you were. A psychology major, a senior at Harvard. Your mind was as sharp as your tongue, constantly analyzing anything and everything. You weren't some air-head that he dealt with at his work, or even someone he felt he needed to kill for making him feel inferior, as said before. It was quite the opposite. For the first time in a very long time, Patrick liked someone. Slowly, very slowly, he began to enjoy your presence. You were smart, and Patrick felt as if he could actually have conversations with you. And only two months into your relationship did Patrick confess to you that he had these dark desires for spilling blood and coitus. And that didn't stop you from going on another date, and another, and another... Patrick was over the shock of how calm you were, how nonjudgmental you were. Like him, deep down, you were like him.

Life with Patrick almost became second nature to you. Every so often, you'd come over to his apartment, whether that meant to watch a movie, go out to eat, or spend the night in his bed; you enjoyed your time with him, and you could only hope he felt the same. You hoped he cared about you. Loved you as you loved him. The more you got to know Patrick, pushing through the mask he wore, the more and more you thought that maybe Patrick's interest in you wasn't love and more of an obsession. An obsession with you. The more Patrick grew interested in you, the more he wanted you. Though, you began to suspect the opposite the longer your relationship with the man continued.

Sometimes you found Patrick staring at you when you were reading, cooking in his kitchen, or even sometimes when you woke up. But as fast as you catch him, he looks away as if he was never even looking at you in the first place; getting ready for the day with his routine or leaving the room. There was even a time when before you knew that he hated when you stole his clothes, that he gifted you a bottle of his cologne. Besides the clothes and the occasional simi-sentimental gifts, that cologne was your favorite thing Patrick had ever given you. You practically sprayed it on everything you owned.

Sometimes, even if you were both on the couch watching TV, his hand would end up in your hair. It would start off slow, his fingers just brushing the tips of your hair before gradually digging deeper into your locks, the tips of his fingers gently scratching your scalp. Though the soothing touch would leave once Patrick caught himself doing it. It was rare for it to happen, only happening when Patrick was too enthralled in whatever movie, so you cherished it whenever it did. You even called him 'Pattycakes' once. If he didn't care, he would've killed you for sure, but instead, he just told you not to call him that. So there were certain events that made you believe that Patrick really did care for you. It became clear that it was an obsession… With love sprinkled here and there.

Just like right now, sitting on his couch in front of the TV, watching 'The Shining.' Deep into the movie, you snapped out of your trance, feeling Patrick's hand land on your shoulder. You didn't even notice that he even scooted closer to you on the couch, his thigh brushing up against yours. You tried to pay attention to the movie once more, but you become hyper aware of his hand, his touch in general. You wanted so badly just to cuddle into his side. You looked up at him again, seeing him still staring at the screen, watching intently as Jack chased his wife around the hotel with an axe. He kept moving his hand, every now and then, rubbing circles on your upper shoulder. He didn't look at you. You couldn't tell if he knew what he was doing or not.

Taking a chance, much like you did with his pillow, you leaned your head on his shoulder. You couldn't help but smile, feeling as he tensed before slowly relaxing. Nearing the end of the movie, the hand on your shoulder moved up to your neck and began massaging your skin softly, pulling you close to him. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, enjoying how comfortable the couch was, and how nice he smelled, that scent that seemed to linger on you no matter how many times you showered, as you closed your eyes. Within minutes, you were asleep.

Patrick watched the screen as it panned to Jack frozen to death in the hedge maze, the movie slowly ending afterward. Grabbing the remote from the glass coffee table in front of him, his arm tight around your shoulders as he shut off the TV. Looking down at you, Patrick stared at your sleeping form, the light from the lamp casting shadows across your face. His gaze drifted from your peaceful features, tracing the outline of your face with his eyes. His eyes flicked to the freckles that sprinkled your cheeks, the way your lashes fluttered and danced against your zygomatic bone, and then down to your lips. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he maneuvered you in his arms, placing one arm around your back and the other under your legs. Carrying you to his room, he laid you on the bed, untucking the covers from underneath you to properly tuck you in.

Letting out a deep exhale from his nose, he stared down at you, a tad annoyed. He hadn't planned for you to stay over. As he gazed down at you, his thoughts began, ‘She irritates me to no end and yet I have succumbed to her every move, every glance, every breath. I haven't a clue of how, I am still unsure of this feeling, what it may be. Obsession or some infatuation, but if this is what they call love, then what does it feel like? She drives me insane and yet I don't want to be anywhere else but by her side. And yet she makes me so angry because I cannot stand her presence. It's like my insides are burning, melting, and fusing, making my body melt until I'm nothing but an empty shell. I should hate her. Yet, I do not. And this craving, this hunger for the flesh has dwindled, though not completely gone. This desire for her, her touch, her presence, her, still gnaws at me like an animal. She can see through the facade I've put up for years, and yet, she doesn't seem bothered by it. I cannot understand it. Maybe she, similar to myself, is simply not there.'

Pushing past that, he sat down on the bed beside you. He watched as your chest rose and fell with each deep breath, the way your lips parted slightly, and it made Patrick feel warm inside. It upset him. How could you, how could you do this to him? He hated how vulnerable you made him feel, though he'd deny it vehemently later on. His lips pressed together, and he shook his head before leaning forward. Brushing your hair out of the way with his slender fingers, Patrick pressed his lips against your neck, his nose nudging into your ear lobe. The contact was gentle, almost too gentle for a man like Patrick Bateman as the overwhelming realization that you were irreplaceable fell upon him. In quick, swift movements, Patrick stood from the bed, leaving to begin his night-time routine as he reminded himself to return some videotapes in the morning.

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batemansluvrr · 1 year

Text

— 𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬

i know this is short, but this is my first time writing fluff. hope y’all don’t mind!! (maybe i’ll do a part two)

enjoy your reading!🤍

song i used as inspo: wicked game - chris isaak

word count: 448

The rays of the sun passing through Patrick’s bedroom window woke you up and you immediately turned to see your boyfriend relaxed face before noticing that he was already awake. He was staring at you in a romantic way, as if he was intrigued by your sleeping figure. He smiled softly and got on top of your delicate body and started caressing your cute cheeks. You giggled and kissed his hand, amazed by his perfect features. Patrick stopped for a moment before leaning down and starting to leave a trail of wet kisses on your exposed neck, tickling it. Your hands made their way to his messy yet perfect hair, stroking them a bit.

“Good morning beautiful.” He said before kissing your forehead. You met his hazel eyes and gave him a soft peck. “Morning.” Your lips couldn’t stop forming a smile at the heavenly sight you were admiring. Patrick jokingly placed his head between your breasts, looking at you from below. He then moved his hand to your belly, caressing your pretty body. “We’re gonna have a beautiful little boy or girl.” He smirked and hugged you tightly without broking the eye contact.

“My pretty little angel.” He had a serious face now, enchanted by your stunning beauty. Your heart was melting at the sound of his sweet words, and that made you cup his cheeks and kiss him a million times again. You couldn’t get enough of him, because you knew you couldn’t resist him. You loved the fact that he could have been lovely and attractive at the same time. Even though you couldn’t escape his wicked games. Every time Patrick acted like that, you knew he had something strange in mind, but still, you didn’t care. You returned to reality when he stood up and reached the bathroom while you finally decided to search your underwear under the blanket. After a minute, you still couldn’t find it and you decided to join him in the bathroom, surprising him. A towel covered his intimacy while he was doing his expensive skin-care. You washed your hands and face noticing how many products Patrick used. He positioned behind of you, hugging your pretty frame, admiring your naked form through the mirror.

“Thank you so much for everything, for this time, for our future together and most importantly for loving me.” He murmured into your ear, playing with your lobe. You smiled brightly and turned to see his encouraging face. “You don’t have to thank me.” Your voice reassured him, while your hands were massaging his shoulder. Patrick caressed your cheek gently with a genuine smirk printed on his lips before kissing you again.

“Let's have breakfast now.”

#patrick bateman #christian bale #patrick bateman x reader #american psycho #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman x female reader #fluff

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starlightingsss · 5 months

Text

disposable - patrick bateman x reader

ur a budding starlet and hes patrick bateman and he loves you 😋

(its literally just you and him having a conversation then him overthinking the last part and convincing himself you didnt love him)

(hes so silly and dramatic in this story fr)

she crawled over to patrick's laying frame, wrapping her arm over his stomach and snuggling into his chest.

"im gonna be famous, patrick." she told him, hope oozing into her voice. "the whole worlds gonna know my name."

"yea?" he said, amused by her antics.

"mhm! ill be in hollywood.. people are going to recognize me in the streets and everyones going to love me." she told him, her eyes bright as she spoke of her future.

"what about us then?" he replied, his voice stern - almost emotionless.

"huh? what do you mean?" she mumbled, propping herself up on her elbow.

"when you get famous and move to hollywood." he said again, disliking the idea.

"well.. we could make long distance work! plus we'll both be rich so we could travel to see each other!" she told him, still optimistic. "it'll be so perfect. ill be so happy!"

but to patrick, this was like a knife in the chest. he loved her, hes known that since he saw her, he would drop anything for her. he would give up his whole career and retire to the countryside for a life with her - if that's what she wanted. she was his only choice, his favorite, his everything. he would kill for her. if she said she liked a billion dollar dress, he would pay the billion. he would do anything for her, and she was his future. for him, nothing was certain. stocks were tricky and often unpredictable, he could lose his wealth and his whole lifestyle in a matter of seconds. and naturally, he wasn't very close with anyone else, no work friends, nothing. but he had her, the light of his life. and when because he had her, he had everything.

she was the certainty of his life, his rock. and she was just going to leave? when her career takes off, she would just leave him like that? what if he needs her and she's on the other side of the country? how was long distance going to work for either of them?

she knew he wasn't moving to LA with her. how could she say that it would make her happy? was she tired of him after all? was her "eternal love" for him actually not eternal? he couldn't even be away from her for more than a day without worrying so much he got sick, did she not share that same sentiment?

how could she be so happy about leaving him? once she got famous, would he just be out of the picture? would she forget him?

and how could a life without him be perfect? he knew he couldn't live without her, so how could she be so fond of the idea of being away from him?

he turned to look at the girl, engulfed in sleep. her features looked angelic as the light danced on her skin, highlighting her beauty. realization seemed to strike him, as he watched her breathe steadily - he fell for a trap.

a carefully woven web she had coaxed him into. how she broke down his walls and burrowed herself a hole deep into his heart, a hole that would be left empty once she left. her "i love you"s were lies mumbled into his ears, a trap he had fallen for. maybe he should have been more cautious, a little more guarded.

tears flooded the mans eyes, she was his everything.

how could her love be a trap? she was everything he had ever wanted, his perfect. but he wasn't that to her, he was disposable. something she would get rid of for fame, and as he came to that realization - it shattered him.

he could feel it. he could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces. the strain in his chest, the tears in his eyes. all he'd ever wanted was to be loved like she said she loved him, all he'd ever yearned for was the peace of her embrace, but all he ever knew was the lie of her love.

he was nothing to his everything.

#patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman #american psycho #slashers x reader #slashers

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horror102 · 10 months

Text

Un-perfect?

(Patrick Bateman X Fem! Reader)

TW!! Angst, crying, manipulation, abandonment, murder, kissing.

You look down at your watch, you picked out a necklace for you and Patrick’s hundredth date he assured you, you both should go on.

He ushered you to go and pick out a necklace for he didn’t want to pick the wrong one.

And unexpectedly you found the one you wanted in an instant, it was being showcased and you purchased it, early than Patrick expected.

You walked up to the register, your black heels tapped the marble tills as you strutted toward the counter.

Pulling cash out, and asking how much would it cost, a feisty bill of 230. You paid it off and hurriedly ushered over a taxi.

Awkwardly saying hello and then telling the man your destination, surprisingly he drove fast, after he saw the money in your purse.

You thanked him whilst digging your key out the purse and stepping on the sidewalk.

You pressed your key code and walked up the steps, taking a left to the elevator. As you got in you dialed your floor number. Key in hand.

As it opened, you heels tapped the carpet, sounding more muffled than before. You took a two-step jog towards your door. Pulling your dress down and putting the necklace on.

Sliding the key into the key hole, you turned it with a *click!* stepping instead on the porcelain floor.

“Patrick?”

You coughed, only to hear shuffling. And music, you giggled to yourself wondering what he had in store.

You took of your heels, and walked onto the carpet side, your feet being rested and comforted by the new position and footing. You tip-toed towards the shuffling trying to be sneaky.

Opening the door with a slight creak.

You snatch the door open a wide smile on your face as you yelled “Patrick!” In happiness.

You saw him crouched down in a suit, plastic around his body. His head snapped towards you by the sound of your yelping voice. He stood hurriedly, almost in a panic. Trying to cover water he was hiding with his posture.

“Patrick?”

Your voice coed into his ears, you tilted your head over and he watched as your jaw dropped from what you had seen.

You took two steps back, eyes still wide from shock.

“Dear, honey-”

He spoke, a welcoming head stretched forward.

You let out a petrifying scream, he immediately rushed forward and grabbed your hand pulling you into his chest. A hand over your mouth but slightly tilted so you could breath from your nose.

He whispered

“Calm down,”

Repeatedly whilst giving harsh pressuring kisses on your forehead. His other hand over your chest, monitoring your heartbeat.

He waited until your heartbeat cooled down before he let you go carefully whilst locking the door.

“Listen to me.”

He commanded. Kicking whoever’s body over flat. You gulped in response nodding your head repeatedly.

“You trust me right, you know I would never hurt you?”

You nodded again, lips cracked and dry. From paranoia. You backed yourself into a corner. Eyes full of water threatening to fall. And when they did Patrick let out a sigh.

“Listen, don’t cry. I did this for us. You know I would never do this to hurt you, right?”

You gathered the courage to speak, anger filled in your veins.

“For us, that’s ridiculous! You did this for yourself, you did this for your own nasty desire Patrick. Your cold blooded, your a murderer!”

He, let out another sigh pressing his finger to his lips in a hushing motion, he kicked the body again in annoyance accidentally giving you a glance of the persons face.

“You killed- My only friend Patrick. My God!”

You yelled running towards the body, knees to your chest and hands on theirs.

They were obviously dead though still you put your head on their lifeless chest empathizing.

“See? Look at that. Your all over him my love, how could I resist?! This isn’t my fault, it’s yours.”

You looked up at him in disbelief of him blaming you. And you were overly fed up, you had kept his little secret of killing his coworker.

“My fault, God your heartless Patrick. Your so un-perfect than what you pretend to be.”

He paused. Frozen in his footsteps.

“Un-perfect?”

You hurriedly nodded once again, placing your head on the lifeless corpse chest, muffled cries leaving your lips.

He gripped your by your neck and threw you back, grabbing the body and pushing you out the way. Locking the door and taking the key leaving you there alone.

You shook in the corner of your room. Wondering how much did he lie about? Did he lie about his love? His obsession with you? Did he lie about his vowels at your wedding?

Stuck in shock, and absurd disgrace.

You heard the clicking of the door and your head snapped in it’s direction. He came inside not locking the door behind himself.

Getting on one knee before placing a hand on your face and giving your forehead a little kiss.

“I love you. You know that right?”

Lies, lies, lies, you thought you fist clenched and jaw tightened, you quickly turned your lips away when he went in for a kiss.

“I don’t love you.”

He froze as you let out those words letting out a chuckle.

“Don’t lie to yourself, we love eachother.”

You were done, you were sick and tired of this facade he was strung to put up.

“I don’t love you anymore, I’m tired of these fucking lies Patrick. Go ahead, do it, go ahead and kill me like you did the others. Be the fucking killer you are.”

His jaw clenched in anger, he tightened his grip on your hand. Giving it a soft kiss before saying that he’d be right back unknowingly dropping the key out his pocket. He left the room, and immediately you took notice of the key.

You heard the bathroom door close and you rushed out. Locking the bathroom door, and running outside of the apartment hallways. You heard Patrick thrust and bang at the bathroom door before finally breaking it down.

Yelling and roaring your name, though you were already on the bottom floor barefooted, bout time you heard his thumping footsteps. You made it outside and you ran to a far away pay phone calling the police to the apartment.

You ran to some nearby woman, and told them about your situation. They also called the cops and the police picked you up and let you stay the night at the department.

You were utterly shocked when they came back and said they saw no one there, and Patrick Bateman was no where to be found.

Patrick had ran away somewhere, he already planned to start a new life. But whilst he was running from the apartment you struck his mind.

“My wife.”

He mumbled to himself choking on his tears, as he ran at full speed growing lightheaded.

He nibbled on his bottom lip holding back his cries, sure he might’ve lied to you about where he went and what he did. But never, was he love for you wasn’t true. The flashbacks of his vowels flashed his mind.

“Through life and death, I’ll always love you. Between truths and lies. You’ll always have the deepest puncture in my heart.”

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aalyssah · 4 months

Text

I’ll Find You

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst and Mentions of Killing.

Word Count: 1,805

Summary: Patrick overhears you telling a friend about a guy who kept asking you out and even following you home, so Patrick gets rid of him, which causes you to run away.

A/N: This isn't a sad, heartbreaking angst, but there's no happy ending. Hope You Enjoy!

It was 10:00 and your shift finally ended. You've been waiting all day to go home, and yes, you do love your job at the small coffee shop, but sometimes you're just ready to go.

You began cleaning up your area and putting everything back where they belonged. You were in the middle of stacking your cups when the sound of a clearing throat caught you.

You turned around to see your best friend, Kate. "Oh, hey Kate!" You greeted her, finishing up the cups. "You ready to go? We can walk home together." You nodded your head, untying your apron, and placing it on a hook. "Yeah, let's go." You grabbed your purse and walked out the building with Kate by your side.

You both walked side by side, talking about the types of customers you both had today. "Speaking of customers, who was the CUTE boy that came in, in the morning."

You thought back to all the people that came this morning and rolled your eyes once you figured out who she was talking about. "Oh, Ethan? Curly hair, brown eyes?" You asked, describing him.

Kate nodded her head eagerly. "Yeah! He was soooo into you. And he was totes flirting with you." Once again, you rolled your eyes at her. "He's nobody. He's just someone who came in and thought I was beautiful, and tried to get with me, but I rejected him."

Kate frowned. "I would feel bad for him cause he's cute, but he's gotta know who you're dating, right? Everyone knows!" She exclaimed the last part, and that's because everyone did know.

Patrick was one to show you off to any and everyone, making sure everyone knew who you belonged to and vice versa.

"I know, and I told him that! I told him that I was taken by Patrick Bateman, and guess what? He said he didn't care." Kate's mouth dropped open.

No one would dare say anything like that when talking about Patrick.

"What?" You nodded your head agreeing. "Yep, I kept telling him, but obviously he hasn't stopped. This has been going on for about 2 weeks now, but what he did the other day actually freaked me out so much."

Kate grew worried, hearing the slight tremble in your voice. She looked at you and saw how your attitude completely changed. "Hey, let's sit down for a sec." You followed her to a nearby bench, taking a seat.

Kate held your hand. "Talk to me. What did he do? He didn't hurt you, did he?" You quickly spoke up. "No! God no, I would never let him do that, but the other night when I was walking home from work, I thought someone was following me." You gulped.

Kate's eyebrows were furrowed down. "Following you? Did you see who it was?" You shakily replied, "Ethan. I knew it was him. He was wearing the same hoodie that he wore when he came to ask me out that morning. He was following me home, but I went into a grocery store, and luckily there was a lot of people, so I could escape without him seeing me, but that scared me a lot."

Kate looked angry, but sad. She couldn't believe what you were going through. "Did you tell Patrick? I'm sure he would-" You quickly cut her off. "No! I can't, he'll—I don't know what he will do." You sighed out.

This was too much on you so you stood up on shaky legs. "It's okay. Just, let's not talk about this anymore. I'm getting kinda tired." Kate gave you one last look and started walking with you.

She knew she couldn't say anything that would change your mind. You both continued to walk home until you reached your apartment complex.

You both gave each other a hug and off you went into Patrick's apartment. You opened the door with a sigh, placing your keys in a dish bowl and hanging up your jacket.

“Patrick, I'm home!" You called out expecting him to come around the corner with a cocky smile on his face, but it was silent. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Usually he's always at the door waiting for you, but today was different. "Pat?" You called out once more. You walked around the corner in the kitchen just to see Patrick leaning over the counter. “Patrick, I've been calling you!" You lightly scolded him.

He finally stood up tall, turning around revealing the tall bottle of scotch-whiskey. He was drinking straight out the bottle. "Patrick, why are you drinking whisk-" You stopped talking when Patrick looked at you with mad eyes.

"Please don't start tonight. Let's just go to bed." He simply replied, but you still tried to ask him. "Why in a rush? I just wanna know-” Just with you beginning to talk again had him mad.

He quickly slammed his hands against the island counter, yelling, “Damn it Y/n, I said let’s go to bed!” You jumped at his sudden outburst. You were quiet as you made your way to your shared room and changed into your pajamas.

As you both slid into bed Patrick pulled you close to his body, forcing you against him as if nothing just happened.

He was so tense, but why?

It was the next day and when you woke up Patrick was nice again. He even woke you up to a little surprise under the blanket, but all good things must come to an end, meaning you had to get up to go to work.

You left Patrick with a kiss, but before he left he said something that threw you off.

“Don’t expect a certain customer today. He’ll be gone.”

You were confused for only a second, but brushed it off not understanding what he was talking about.

All day you went to work, working like normal. Everything seemed normal, too normal. It was until the end of your shift when you realized you didn’t see a familiar face all day.

You were now walking home with Kate again, Kate scrolling on her phone as you thought about Ethan. “Y’know Ethan never came by today.” Kate hummed. “Feels kinda weird. I guess I got used to him.”

Kate looked at you smiling. “What, do you like him or something.” You awkwardly laughed. “Hell no. It’s just weird that he wasn’t here today. Hope he’s okay.” Kate dropped the conversation, once y’all got to the apartment complex. “See you tomorrow.” You both said your goodbyes and up to your apartment you went.

This time when you walked through the door Patrick was on the couch drinking some water. He looked back at you and smiled. “Baby! How was work?” You let out a sigh. “ Exhausting, I’m so ready to lay down.”

Patrick chuckled, patting a spot next to him. “Come sit. Let’s watch the news.” You didn’t question him, slipping your shoes and jacket off before making your way to him.

You watched the news for a little bit, listening to the Weatherman tell y’all about the weather for the week. You got up, going to the kitchen to look for a snack when you heard the news.

“Another topic of the day, a man named Ethan Jones has been found in an alleyway near a small coffee shop. Police said he was killed with 27 stab wounds with a knife and a carving of the letter ‘P’ on his balls…”

After hearing the opening of the story you took a quick peek at the TV and to your surprise, it was Ethan’s face. The same boy that flirts with you daily at the shop.

“Oh my god, Ethan!” You yelled, giving your full attention to the TV screen. You looked at Patrick for a second only to see him looking at you, but with a smirk on his face? “Patrick, why are you looking at me like that?” You asked him.

You studied his eyes for a couple of seconds and that’s when a suspicion hit you. “Patrick, did you-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head.

There’s no way he knows about Ethan, you didn’t tell him and Kate sure as hell didn’t either. “What, kill him? If that’s what you’re asking then yeah. Yeah I did.” Your eyes grew wide when you took in his words.

You took a step back, feeling a little unsafe at his confession. “Patrick, are you joking because this isn’t the time to be joking.”

Patrick lowly chuckled, standing up from the couch, and walking towards you. “Why would I lie about murdering someone? Especially when they mess with my girl, and even follow her home.” You let out a small gasp hearing him.

How did he know?

“H-How did you know?” You meekly asked. “Got a small camera in your jacket. I can hear and see everything.” You looked over at your jacket on the coat hanger. Now everything made sense.

He was listening to the story you told Kate that night, and it was smart too because he knows that’s the only jacket you can wear to work.

You looked up at Patrick with no words to say, just too stunned. A quick idea came to mind. You don’t wanna be with a killer, who knows what he’ll do to you?

You looked around the apartment for a quick second, planning a distraction. “Okay, well how about this. You go pour us some wine and we can watch a marathon of scary movies as a celebration to no more Ethan!” A smile came to Patrick’s face at your suggestion.

Patrick didn’t say another word as he went to the kitchen and began getting wine glasses and a bottle of your finest wine out. You took the opportunity of a distracted Patrick to make a run for it.

You quickly turned around, fumbling with the door knob. Patrick instantly picked up on the sound of the knob jiggling and turned the corner to see you opening the door.

He made quick moves, running to you and attempting to grab your shirt collar, but it was too late. You were already taking off near the exit and down the stairs.

Patrick knew he couldn’t go after you, and all he could do was fall to his knees with a cry. “Y/n, please come back!” He cried loudly, not caring if his neighbors were sleeping.

His cries echoed around the hallway until he got up wiping his nose. “I’ll come for you, I swear I’ll find you and make you mine again. And you’ll never run away from me again.” He spoke deeply under his breath, going back in his apartment room and planning on his way to get you back.

No matter who he’ll kill, you’ll end up back in his arms.

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