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applesontheground · 11 months

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Can I request a fic with dumbification with Patrick Bateman and a sub reader? Thank you!

Hi, anon! You absolutely can!

NSFW | Word Count: 771 | Patrick Bateman x GN Reader

contains degradation, marking, hair pulling, biting, doggy style, morning sex

It almost felt wrong to let him treat you like this in broad daylight. He held your head against the mattress, the pearl white dress shirt half undone and his well-threaded tie nearly licking the side of your face as he leaned in, the morning glow of a Saturday shining on his own through all the beauty products that he was currently sweating out.

“Don’t you fucking look at me,” He demanded, your watery eyes falling to the wall on the other side of the room. Bile sat on your tongue, and like an itch you had to retort, “M-maybe don’t make me cock drunk, Bateman, and I’ll consider it.”

His hand slipped along the back of your head, finding a fistful of hair to pull and make your entire body peel up and off the bed. Your hands fumbled to support you, now forced to look at him again despite his qualms to keep your eyes off of him.

He wasn’t giving you a choice, and that was what was the most diabolical part. With a hand tickling up your neck, securing your jaw so you couldn’t fight out of the hold, he muttered, “Breaking you down has become the best part of my day, and you have no idea how much I hate to admit that.

...You do understand that’s hard for me to admit?”

You hummed in affirmation, because it was physically impossible to nod.

“What does this lead to in the end, [Y/N]?” He then asked, expression unable to move in some sort of corresponding emotion, his hair disheveled and almost falling back from how he would push it so in the mere seconds you held eye contact. The pressure against your scalp was making it hard to focus, all the more accenting just how impatient your very existence beneath him made the man. Lost in the way he was still slipping in and out, barely letting up on the pace as your jaw opened, closed…opened one more time. “I don’t-“

“You don’t know. Right.” He let go of your hair, making your posture slip as well. Catching yourself with burning palms against the soft sheets, he warned, “I’m going to stop if you don’t get a goddamn grip.”

Agreeing yet again with a dazed mumble, you pushed yourself to sit fully upright, peering over your shoulder at that unwavering cold lockdown of a gaze. He sneered at the gesture, and spat with a venomous tongue, “Pitiful. That’s what you are, and all you will ever be. You know that?”

You nodded, and he had you by the back of the neck with that unforgiving hold he had treated your jaw to, slowing the roll of his hips and making you exhale both from asphyxiation and from dissatisfaction.

“Tell me how much you want it.” He insisted, and you didn’t hesitate.

“Patrick, I’m not worth the fucking time, but I’ve never been taken care of like this, by someone like you.” He started rubbing the top of your spine, finding a satisfying little knot to work on as he listened to you nearly weep, clenching your muscles like it could keep him inside of you, “Please, please just finish what you started.”

He scoffed, but sure enough repositioned and began to rut once again. You were too ashamed to even make a noise, mouth hanging open at the angle where he couldn’t see just how strung out he made you. The insults made it better; it made it worse. You didn’t give a fuck what it did, because what it did felt like you were over the skyline, unable to be touched by your tangible, stressful life.

The shame was burning you alive, but the way it only made him fuck you harder, his sounds more sharp as he careened his body over your back, not shy to start sinking his teeth into your shoulder blades and scratch down your ribs with his well kept nails that somehow still bit like they were feral; it made you cry as hard as it made you moan for more.

Destructive, pitiful – it was all a gross display of how much you two needed each other every morning. It couldn't be had any other way: raw, painful...

Pitiful.

#patrick bateman x reader #american psycho x reader #slasher x reader #requests #slasher requests #notsfw #✏️#💼#anon corner

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dumb-doll-lips · 2 months

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Yay been fucked by a coworker now.

I feel like happy to like be able to check that off the list. lol.

Also finding it amusing that I’m considering it ‘meh’ and I came three times. My bar for good sex has def gotten kinda high.

#slutting #💼

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g004 · 3 months

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#oc #original character #illustrations #💼

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sadviko-off · 4 months

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I thought I would draw longer, I like how it turned out :3

I apologize for the fact that I might have messed up, the second one actually looks like a girl to me, tear off my hands for this - - "…

SV apparently decided to become shorter, since in fact he is 2 meters tall! X"D

@g004

#my art #myoc #my friends #my friends ocs #🥂#💼#squirrel and hedgehog #sah #squirrel and hedgehog oc #sahoc #original character

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emojiturtledaily · 2 years

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Day 596: 🐢 & 💼

Ko-Fi | Patreon

#🐢#💼#turtle #emoji #handcrafted

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love-cult-enthusiast · 22 days

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Currently thinking about how Briefcase and Coffin would kiss because Briefcase has the puppet string mouth and Coffin has CHOMPERS

#dead end job brainrot hours #maybe they just made little kissy noises at eachother #or they could eachother little nibbles #but briefcase doesn’t have teeth so…#idk they’ll figure it out #they’re strange like that #dhmis #dhmis coffin #dhmis briefcase #dhmis shitpost #don’t hug me i’m scared #don’t hug me i’m shitposting #dhmis dead end job #dhmis briefcase x coffin #dhmis coffin x briefcase #Coffinz inzane hourz of inzanity!!!#⚰️#💼

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stuffifindonlinesometimes · 3 months

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Miku Ita Bag

#miku #bag #vocaloid hatsune #miku hatsune #hatsune miku #vocaloid #anime #ita #ita bag #💼#👜#plush

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friendshipsbracelet · 2 months

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hes helping her buy groceries idk…i just needed practice drawing him

#my art #im so scaded to post this but uts ok me no care…#💼

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thejackboxpartypack4 · 4 months

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Im insane ....

#🗝#💼#theyre friends i think #also the redacted speech bubble style is silly i might steal that if i ever make a comic with him #the °_° face on that one red herring is so funny tome

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radiant-reid · 1 year

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wait omg cate drop a fic where y/n finds spencer after morgan makes a small joke ab how “y/n could do better” and like spencer KNOWS morgan’s joking but he overthinks it bc he’s like “ur obviously gonna leave me when u realize u can have anyone u want :(“

i love fics where spencer’s sad and needy and insecure and y/n comforts him

-💼

"Come on, there has to be something." Morgan pushes.

You're at the point after a case where you're all relaxing on the jet on the way home, which to Morgan and Emily means it's time to uncover relationship drama that isn't actually there as they search for what annoys you about the other.

"Okay, fine." Spencer goes first, and you're unsure of what he's about to say, hoping it won't be something that breaks your heart. "There's one thing. There are always hair ties everywhere. I don't even understand how she has so many, but they'll be on the kitchen bench, in the shower, on my bedside table."

It just makes you laugh while Emily defends you and Morgan complains about how he's experienced the same issue. "Okay, now you have to tell us something, Y/n."

"Fine." You relent. There's one thing, and it's a surprising quality for a germaphobe to have. "Spencer's bad at not having clutter, like his books always end up everywhere."

Self-professed neat freak Morgan has something to say about that. "Wow, Y/n, you could do better."

You roll your eyes, kicking him under the table. "Sorry, Morgan, I'm happily taken."

Spencer doesn't look upset about it, which you check, but he slides his hand protectively onto your thigh.

You kiss him on the cheek, making your spectators squeal with disgust. "You know I don't mind your books, right?" You double-check.

He nods, softly smiling at you. "I know."

It weighs on his mind the rest of the way home, and by the time you're back at home after finishing some reports, it's all he can think about.

You know something's wrong when he flops down on the couch without taking his shoes off. "Hey." You sit by his head on the arm of the sofa, running your hand through his curls. "What's wrong?"

He shuts his eyes, pouts, and shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Uh-uh." You coo. "Tell me, baby."

He huffs before spilling. "You're going to leave me." He claims. "When you realize you can have anyone you want."

"Is this about what Morgan said?" You ask, and he nods in reply. "Spence, you can't think that that's true. I only want you. I've only wanted you since I met you."

"Really?" He asks.

"Of course." You assure him. "There's no one as intelligent, funny, kind, caring, and thoughtful as you. You're perfect."

His upset expression melts a little at that, and he smiles slightly. "I'm sorry for worrying about this."

"As long as you remember that I love you." You tell him. "More than anything."

"I love you too." He returns. You lean down in an awkward motion to kiss him upside down, but it's enough to get a smile out of him that you were longing for.

#💼#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds

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applesontheground · 11 months

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could you write a nsfw piece with patrick bateman and a timid fem reader who’s started working at the office with him, which he doesn’t like because yk, misogyny. so, he invites her over and he’s degrading her and just being cruel under the guise of just hooking up but she surprisingly likes it. thank you!

i could absolutely do this, anon! (forgive me for the misogyny, though, lol!)

lion's den 💼

NSFW | Word Count: 1,931 | Patrick Bateman x Female Reader contains DUBCON/unwanted touching, very casual workplace misogyny/sexual harrassment, mentions of drug use, degradation 🎼: x

Even after tenure had weathered you well into your position in the workplace, there was still a subtle hostility every time you sat in the line of mostly single, mostly lawless men. It honestly fascinated you to see such clean-cut faces never progress past what you might have seen on a college campus, to do the things they did outside of work – but you kept that to yourself.

Like you didn’t do a line in those club bathrooms every so often.

Any threat posed by you wouldn’t be taken kindly to. It was as though an elephant had stampeded through the room as you sat yourself at the conference table, a small portfolio splayed in front of you. The presence was loud enough, the mere appearance that you were the only woman there, and that there was no need for a throat clear or even an adjustment in your chair that would break such fragile silence.

This only became worse when you were directed to lead the conference, your branch at Pierce and Pierce being the one under question, and so early in the morning on top of it. Just one good thing for you after another. Your voice began to take control. Rather, set on top of the surface of the room as all your male coworkers acted like it was holding any actual water. Everything was so fabricated you were close to tearing your own hair out should you be left alone.

“Any questions?” You asked towards the end of the display you had put on, oblivious to what was about to happen as you closed the portfolio. “[Y/N], I’m sure you get this question a lot,” You glanced up, interested at first until you heard a snicker from the other side of the conference table. You held your breath, gaze frozen to your coworker Turner as he went on, “But you know, you could leave us to do this sort of planning.”

Your throat tightened, a confused smile crawling over your expression as you lied, “I’m sorry, but I don’t-“

“Boys. He means us as in men, sweetheart.” The snickering voice finally broke into his abrasive tone, and the table couldn’t help but laugh along. You smirked, the fake chuckle in your mouth drier than you had meant it as you clasped your hands together, a quiet murmur above the voices, “Yes, I am aware. Not now, though, but maybe one day.”

“One of us could pick you off the vine,” Your teeth pressed together in their interlock, pressure building badly in your face as the smile became jagged. “Settle down, have some kids...”

“Turner, cut the shit. Not at the conference,” Another piped up, but he was leaning back in his chair; a posture he had worn the moment you had opened your mouth.

He watched this from afar, a few catches of the eye all he got from you as he took it in. Something was starting to cave underneath that smile, he figured, but the utter disdain he caught as you closed your mouth to run your tongue over your teeth. A sign of disgust, she’s hiding it well.

I wouldn’t tolerate blatant undermining from these men, he then concurred, more for a stroke at his own ego than any kudos to you. It was simply a power play, and he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t flat out admit it was delicious to watch. A dark tress of his own psyche asked the question, looking to the man who was leading the berating in harmless breaths. Why does Turner think that he has any sort of control over [Y/N]? Besides being a man, his performance at best runs alongside hers – let alone struggles to maintain even her average pace.

When he looked back over to you, pulling from the cyclone behind his glassy brown eyes, he then caught the stare that was quickly moving on, throwing itself to the window in a surprised flash of [y/e/c].

Was she staring at me? His mouth twitched from behind a curled hand, still doing his best to appear disinterested.

Why?

Maybe you could understand why there was such heavy drug use outside these walls now. Standing in a secluded break area, away from the council of airheads and with your cup of coffee, you recalled you had a flask in your office. Would anyone notice the spiked coffee? You thought with a smirk, but then seeing a glance of yourself in the crystal clear pot you were setting back in its place on the maker, you stomped the moment’s happiness back down with a following thought.

They’d notice if it was you.

“Oh, Miss [L/N]? Are you busy?” You almost didn’t recognize the voice of Jean, one of the secretaries for the VPs. You didn’t know if she was Constance or Bateman’s girl, but she cleared that up rather quickly with an introduction, stepping into the room with a downturned smile that did nothing to hide the intimidation she was feeling. “Jean, Mr. Bateman’s secretary. Have we spoken before?” You outstretched your hand and replied quietly, “Don’t believe so. Knew you helped one of the Vices here, though.”

She nodded hurriedly and mentioned, “Mr. Bateman told me that you were great at the meeting today. He…” She faltered, and you turned away from the counter fully, mug in hand and eyebrows furrowing. It was something you once again saw coming from a mile away, but still left the poor secretary to spit it out. “He wanted me to find you so that he could ask if you’d stop in his office at around two today. Go over your plans for the upcoming…uh-“

“Transfer?” You finished for her and smiled along when she beamed and nodded to you, “Yes, that. The transfer.”

You nodded, only thinking for a moment before answering, “Tell him I’ll be there, but I have another quick meeting at four. It’s a tight fit but I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Seeing that smile on her face again as she nodded for the third time in five minutes, you then admitted to her, “I’ll be honest, it felt like he was the only one taking me serious during the stand-up this morning.” Jean hummed in agreement, and mentioned, “He takes the girls here very…coldly, I think. I-It’s better than being laughed at, I suppose.” She paused, and then pleaded, “Oh, don’t tell him I said that.”

You winked at her, “Of course not. It’s between us.”

At two, you went down the hall with your portfolio (just as infamous as you were at this point). Jean gave you a meek smile to see you enter the small office that came before Bateman’s quarters, and before she had even got on the phone to tell him the door opened.

“[L/N],” He greeted, and you caught that he was overtly warm as he gestured inside. You wondered if this was going to be anything of substance, but still walked in with the same level of mock joy. “Bateman, glad to meet with you.”

The door closed behind you, and there was an almost serene silence as he walked over to his desk. A careful finger dragged on the page of his open planner, checking something while you merely stood there.

“You know, I think Turner had a point.” Your eyes grew cold, staring at him as he stood from his desk, eyes still on his planner as he closed it. He then stated in a plain voice, “You’re far too incompetent to be leading this transfer.” You scoffed and were about to mention something about tenure when he suddenly froze up and looked at you. It wasn’t a friendly workplace stare or the stifled contempt you had seen from coworkers before. It was irritating, downright callous as he seemed to already be looking past you. You couldn’t help but stand a little straighter as he then approached, still in a leisurely stroll.

He got uncomfortably close, and you almost pressed into his office door as he murmured, “I think that you take disrespect far too often to ever be taken seriously, [Y/N]. It’s embarrassing.”

For once, you received this sort of comment from a sharp voice that was a little more than a complicated strain of hot air. He meant that, something he wasn’t just regurgitating from his peers. It was honest, and it was making your face catch fire as you muttered, “I’ve earned my place here just as well as half the trust-fund children who bought their way here, Bateman.”

Part of you was downright terrified of losing your pristine mask, frowning as you gave his well-fit suit a glance up and down. He was doing the same, and the two of you met eyes at the same time. He then sighed, “Well, I don’t think it’s going to get you anywhere. Especially not here."

You dug your tongue into your cheek, and snapped back, “I don’t need to be anywhere else besides here.” A pause, and you quickly clarified, “In this office, doing these busywork transfers and inventory checks so you men can go on, do coke and fuck whoever you want in your free time.”

He took in a breath, facing you and not shy to start backing you into the door. It should’ve made you leave, but that same hollow reminder that HR wouldn’t do anything kept you glued to the door, trying to stand your ground even while downright petrified. You wondered if Jean had heard the door shift from your shoulders sliding up against it.

It shouldn’t have made you wet, either, but knowing he was speaking his mind – his cruel, lucid mind – was going straight to the part of you that desired that. You desired drugs, you desired distraction, but you desired something real more than any of it.

Suddenly, his hand slid up your thigh, and your mouth fell open to yelp but he silenced you with nearly boxing you against the door, feeling the heat kept between your legs even through the layers of fabric, the guise of professionalism. The shock melted into pleasure as he watched you crumble bit by bit, pressing harder against your sex just for good measure.

“Do you bring this on yourself because you like it?” He then asked, scrunching his nose, “That’s deplorable.”

“Please,” You huffed, “It's only because you've been the only man who means it.” His neck straightened, no longer ogling your body to see you smile at him in a wicked prick of the lips, “I hear it all the time from these goddamn parrots we work with. Turner heard it from Allen, Allen heard it from Constance…But that’s the first time a man has had the brain power to call me deplorable.”

His hand left your crotch, and he almost seemed taken back by the way you smiled. You then asked, “Are you telling human resources about this, or are you going to make a woman do it?”

He scoffed now, and reminded you, “They wouldn’t do anything.”

Grinning, you agreed, “I know.”

He was stunned again, watching you adjust your clothes from where he had haphazardly pushed them aside. “Let me know if you have any more concerns about the transfer, Mr. Bateman.” You plainly stated, turning the knob to his office door before excusing yourself.

You closed the door, and Jean and you both jumped when his fist pounded against the door. You stood with your back to the wood, and when you met the secretary's eyes, you merely smiled.

"That wasn't cold at all."

#patrick bateman x reader #american psycho x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #requests #slasher requests #notsfw #✏️#💼#anon corner #i just love writing this man to the girliest music

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