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makeyoumine69 · 21 days

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My Lovely Detective III

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

— CONTAINS: Unprotected non-con sex, fingering, thigh riding (kinda), rough body play & kissing, cloth ripping, manhandling, swearing, degradation, cum shot.

— WORDS: 2.7k

— A/N: Thank you for your support! 💗😍😘

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

The Fall

Bateman’s shameless touch on her mound caused her legs to shake a bit, but Andrea managed to pull herself together, just like she was trained in the police academy.

"Mm-mmhm," the detective's low moan echoed off the walls of his fashionable living room. "Jus-st," she managed to say through the gag. "Kill m-me...already."

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head to the side, trying to hide from his piercing gaze and hot breath. The firmness of his palm on her pussy was the last thing she needed to worry about, but the way her body was reacting insisted on doing something. With deliberate but gentle movements, the brunette arched her back like a cat about to slip from his grip.

Patrick knitted his eyebrows in concentration. Why didn't he just kill her like he had originally planned? Even Paul Allen, that smug bastard, hadn't suffered for long...

"Sassy girls just don't understand this luxury. I'm a 'narcissistic liar'?" Patrick suddenly remembered the personal verdict she'd written along her notes, and added with a very soft voice, as if he regretted having to tell her this: "Wrong. I'm a fucking psychopath, darling."

So close to her exposed neck, her scent was overwhelmingly intense, not a perfume he could name, but something that drove him crazy. And disguised as mockery, he couldn't help but kiss her neck.

An electric shock coursed through Andrea's nerves at his unexpected move, the warmth of his lips making her small body tremble, and she could swear to God that she tried to pull away from him, but she was stuck.

"A-awwwww," she squealed, twitching under his massive frame. "S-stop...mmh-stop...mmphp-please!"

‘Yeah, yeah, you think I'm so scared and vulnerable… c'mon, enjoy my weakness…’

The woman tried to close her legs just to provoke him, to make him think she was scared and didn't want him to continue. The moment he lost his attention, she would stun him with the bottle of wine that lay on the coffee table next to the large knife. No, she would not die today. Noticing the detective's attempts to back away, Patrick replaced his hand between her legs with a knee, forcing them apart with more force. Her back was half bent over the short back of the couch, and through the sheer proximity of their bodies, Patrick could feel her small frame trembling beneath him. The gag was pretty much undone by this point, but he didn't care. The sense of power her reaction had given him was dangerous for both of them - he found himself trapped in a tunnel vision of desire and suddenly obsessed with the idea of leaving his mark on her… He bit down on the sensitive flesh of her neck.

Only now did the woman realize that her hands were free, and for a moment she tried to claw at his biceps through the expensive fabric of his jacket, but it only seemed to spur him on as she heard his low growl close to her ear.

Twitching, Andrea managed to spit out the gag. "Leave me alone, you fucking ... you fucking asshole!"

With a loud grunt, the detective began to struggle, trying to kick him off and reach the bottle on the coffee table, his knee between her legs pressed against her mound and it was quite painful, but she didn't care.

"Fucking bitch!" Patrick snapped, and as the detective struggled violently against him, he reached a breaking point. "I'm done with this!"

In one swift movement, he grabbed the woman by her curls and brutally forced her face down on the couch. It was a humiliating position - Patrick pressed against Andrea while her ass was half in the air, the muscular thighs trapping her. With his free hand he reached effortlessly for the knife, his arm much longer than hers. He held the hair out of her face, enjoying the look of fear on her face.

As the woman felt the sharp, cold steel against her throat, her whole life flashed before her eyes, but in the next moment she was in control of her emotions.

"Why did you stop?" Andrea taunted him without any visible anxiety. "Or haven't you decided yet what you want to do with me—fuck me or kill me? Or maybe both?"

The detective spat out her words in his face. She knew that if Patrick would kill her, the police would get his ass, since she had informed her boyfriend before going to dinner with Bateman. But the prospect of being killed didn't seem appealing.

"They're going to get you, Bateman," the woman suddenly hissed through clenched teeth. "They know I had dinner with you... you know what I mean? The police will barbecue your fucking ass even if you kill me!"

Patrick couldn't help but laugh at her words. Not because she was completely wrong (statistically, he should have been found out long ago), but because she had misjudged his nature.

"It doesn't matter. None of it does. I just can't stop."

He stared at her absently, not entirely pleased with the idea that this woman might be his last victim, and yet not feeling the usual panic attack rising within him. If there had ever been a point of no return, this wasn't it.

"...but either way, you are about to pay the price for your insufferable curiosity…” And with a very quick and calculated move, he drew the blade of his knife down Andrea's body.

From the neckline to the hem, Patrick had sliced open her dress precisely, leaving her skin almost completely intact - except for a razor-thin cut on her thigh. He roughly pushed the fabric aside, exposing her body, which was devastatingly tanned all over. No tan lines. Even though Bateman hadn't intended to cut Andrea's skin—not now, he had done so by accident, and now her soft skin was cracked in places, the cuts itch and hurt, but she still didn't dare to be weak and pathetic. With several long cuts, he slashed her clothes, leaving her completely naked from head to toe.

As the man traced her thin trail of pubic hair, the detective couldn't help but bite her lower lip. "Why...why are you acting like you're seeing a woman's body for the first time?" No matter how hard she tried to hide her growing arousal, her voice betrayed her.

"I see your boyfriend didn't pay much attention to you." Patrick tried to sound dismissive at the sight of her pubic hair—both the prostitutes and the hard bodies from the club were always clean shaven.

Still, he found it hard to pull his hands away from her, finding himself embarrassingly curious about what it would feel like to put his mouth on her. Shaking off such crazy thoughts, Patrick instead let his fingers wander lower and spread her lower lips, well aware of how her core trembled under his touch and how she tried not to make a sound.

"Is that why you're so wet for a psychopath?" And though he said it with his usual arrogance, his voice dropped a little lower.

Andrea couldn't help but arch her back towards him, and she didn't even know if she was doing it to stop him from killing her, or if it was her physical need that confirmed his previous statement about her boyfriend. "Bateman," she gasped as his fingers dove into her heat. "Bateman...mmhm-mmm, fuck me," the woman moaned suddenly, grinding against his body. "I know you want it... I know you crave dominance...so take what you want..." Her seductive whisper was designed to make him lose his mind, which would give her opportunities to play around. "Ruin me…"

Never before had a woman offered herself to Patrick with such blatant desperation, let alone one so aware of his dark nature. And even though the detective was probably hoping to save her life, he could tell that her body wanted him at the same time. His fingers had slipped into her too easily, the wet sound so obscene and the way she urged him to go deeper... Still holding her with one hand, Patrick loosened his tie and tore open his pants, pulling off his suspenders as he did so. He didn't bother to strip completely for the moment; part of him wanted her to admire his toned body, but the other part enjoyed the contrast of her vulnerable nakedness and his formal clothing.

"Oh, you don't even know what you're asking for, little detective," Patrick groaned hoarsely, grabbing her by the hips and pulling Andrea effortlessly onto his lap, where she was now pressed flush against his length. Without even giving her a chance to answer, Patrick kissed Andrea hard on the lips. With a muffled gulp, the detective wrapped her arms around his neck and responded to his kiss with no less passion, tangling her fingers in his soft hair, now so messy and curly.

"Mmhmm...you're so needy, Mr. Bateman," Andrea whispered into his ear after breaking the kiss, leaving a trail of split between their mouths. "I thought I was not your type," the woman nipped at his neck and sucked on the mark. "But your erection says otherwise." Slowly, she began to hump on him, pressing against his hard groin. With every thrust of her hips against his, Andrea moaned loudly, her face flushed and sweaty.

"I could say the same about you - first I get bratty insults, now you hump my lap like a bitch in heat. Where does that come from?" Patrick murmured in a low voice, less threatening but still expressing his arousal.

Unable to suppress the twitch of his cock at her words, he only pressed her closer to his hot flesh, brushing against her entrance. His hands had found their way to Andrea's ass, greedily cupping and massaging the soft skin, a kind of silent and far more honest response. ‘I just feel sorry for this woman who never had a really good fuck.’

Andrea's disheveled hair seemed to have doubled in volume, her tits pressed teasingly against his chest with every movement, and Patrick felt so overwhelmed for a moment; as if he could eat and consume her, but somehow not in the literal sense as he had done with others before.

Gasping, Andrea mentally begged her boyfriend for forgiveness before wrapping her hand around the base of Bateman's fat cock, then pumping the full length. "You're... so pathetic..." she uttered into the crook of his neck before she lowered herself onto his dick and the moment its tip slipped into her heat, the woman screamed in pain. "F-fuck, why are...why are you so fucking big," she stopped halfway, grabbing his shoulder and trying to adjust to his size. "So pathetic...but big…”

Patrick watched Andrea's struggle with undisguised satisfaction, the way she desperately tried to get somewhere, making her insults seem like projection. "You can't wait to have me, and it makes you act like a virgin. You think this will work without preparation?" He took his length and pressed it flush against Andrea's stomach, showing how easily it reached from her entrance past her belly button. "You're either a lot more masochistic than you admit, or you're used to small dicks," Patrick murmured in her ear with barely controlled temper. "Am I right? Your boyfriend is so small that he can do it without lube?"

He let go of her trembling thighs and suddenly pushed Andrea to the floor, forcing her to lie on her back - her soft flesh was so warm to the touch - a startling contrast to the cold wooden floor. 'She had probably never been tied up before. Plush handcuffs at most, I'd say,' Patrick thought with a mixture of contempt and raw excitement. 'I'm going to show her a whole new spectrum of pain and pleasure, and this pathetic little body is so unprepared for it, it might as well have never been fucked before.'

"Well, this is all you get either way for being such an insufferable little cunt." Patrick spat crudely on her pussy and watched in fascination as it clenched around nothing.

As soon as Andrea tried to move away from him, he pinned her hips down with one hand and used the other to roughly spread his salvia all over her. Experimentally, he pumped two of his fingers inside her. It would not help, Patrick knew very well. A final slap on her sensitive mound that made Andrea tremble before Patrick spread her legs apart and drove his cock into her tightness with a sharp trust of his hips. The woman's legs shook from the pain of Bateman's fat girth tearing her apart from the inside out, and the worst part was that this bastard was right - her boyfriend was nothing compared to him, absolutely nothing.

'But... but I love him anyway… I'm just doing this to get back to him alive.' This thought made Andrea whimper and swallow her tears from the physical and mental pain. "Bateman, Bateman..." she hiccupped as his cockhead poked at her cervix. "F-fuck, it's so deep..." she had to close her eyes because she couldn't see Patrick's smug face as he had her sing for him like a siren. "It won't fit!" At some point, the woman was afraid that his dick, with its size, would fucking tear her apart, she could feel her soft inner walls desperately trying to accommodate what he was giving her, even though it was too fucking painful. One raw stroke after another, her body was nothing but a canvas for his wicked paintings and she couldn't do anything but let him have his way with her. 'I'm so sorry.'

Andrea was dying of shame, especially when she felt her orgasm building in her core from the fullness Bateman was giving her, not to mention when this jerk trapped her hard nipple between his expert fingers, twisting it like a radio volume control. "Ahh-hhhhh, you're gonna...you're gonna fucking split me in a half…!" The woman screamed, clawing at her own skin to stifle her cries.

"Look at that, I'm holding back but you already can't take it," Patrick spat out, not angry but grasping for control at the sight of his base still unable to fit inside.

She was so tight - so much tighter than Patrick had expected, tighter than any he had ever had and God yes, he wanted to fuck her apart, even if it would kill them both. He wouldn't have been able to stop with a gun to his head, let alone care about her crying and pleading, which only served to intensify his destructive frenzy. Holding Andrea by the hips, a grip so hard it would leave bruises, Patrick forced her body into his power, pressing her harder against him like a cheap doll. And as if her weight meant nothing, he thrusted her brutally, the friction he gained with every movement washing over him in hot pleasure. The sound of skin against skin echoed off the walls and her increasingly mindless babbling and moaning challenged the soundproofing, but Patrick had never cared less.

"Did you know that Tom Cruise lives in this complex? Tom fucking Cruise can hear you whining like a whore!" He laughed breathlessly at the sight of Andrea writhing underneath him and how little it had taken for her pride to crumble.

But his punishment came only seconds later.

As her orgasm approached, Andrea squeezed him even tighter, something that seemed impossible but almost caused Patrick to lose it on the spot, forcing a raw moan from his throat. But he couldn't have that, couldn't allow himself the humiliation of cumming right in front of her eyes, so he gritted his teeth and cursed and fucked Andrea through her first climax, fucked her until the overstimulation hurt him and it became impossible to delay the inevitable any longer. Patrick had barely enough time to pull out before a violent shudder ran through his body and he exploded all over her, spilling even her face with stray drops of his thick cum. And as Bateman looked down at her, breathing heavily and meeting Andrea's glazed eyes, Patrick knew that it was not nearly enough for him… that he needed her more…

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

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

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renata-has-thoughts · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I’m-“ he writhed.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes.”

He shook his head meekly. That, or trembled.

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

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

Finally. Now I was ready.

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

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

“Water? Tea?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Are you alive?”

He nodded.

“You’re sure?”

Nodding.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

Very enthusiastic nodding.

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

End

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

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

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venussss01 · 10 months

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my favorite works/ recommendations 3

anakin skywalker™

- pretty baby by @luxtrys

- yes here by @fuckmyskywalker

- a hundred and ten percent ready by @luxtrys

- late night thot by @fuckmyskywalker

- babysitting by @fuckmyskywalker

- teacher’s pet by @s-brant

- good resolutions by @spacesurfing

- can’t get enough by @geekforhorror

stiles stilinski™

- let me help you by @theemporium

- you’re my friend not theirs by @messylustt

- warmth by @asterias-record-shop

- desperation by @murdrdocs

- enemies with benefits mlist by @slut4thebroken

- how funny do you think teasing is now by @theemporium

- no plot needed by @ghostgardn

rafe cameron™

- she’s mine by @antxlss

- too friendly by @blueicequeen19

- dark!rafe by @bratty-lxndry444

- stepbrother by @murdrdocs

- casual affection by @proactivetypaperson

- just checking my phone by @randomoutsiders

- prom night series by @sevenwivesofrafecameron

- argumentative by @applcrumbl

- bad news by @blackthunder137

- darling angel by @emmalandry

- taking care of rafe by @cal-flakes

- call me fucking dumb by @xob1tchs

patrick bateman™

- stuck in an elevator by @makeyoumine69

- don’t be shy now by @makeyoumine69

- obsession by @makeyoumine69

- dad’s best friend by @makeyoumine69

- i wanna feel you in my bones by @makeyoumine69

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #fic recs #fic recommendation #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #star wars #obx fanfiction #rafe obx #obx #star wars smut #patrick bateman #patrick bateman smut #american physco #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf smut

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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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horror102 · 1 year

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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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slushpuppi · 9 months

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THE WAY PATRICK BATEMAN WOULD...

A Patrick bateman smutty headcannon list

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

Enjoy!

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

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

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

Patrick likes to take advantage of you everywhere and anywhere.

He loves to degrade you and humiliate you in bed.

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

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

He tries his best to make you cry everytime

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

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

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

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cliffbar-booth · 11 months

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

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

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

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

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

I was so fucked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i-"

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

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

"mr bateman, i can er, explain-"

his free hand went around my throat, gripping it.

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

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

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

I shook my head.

"so keep quiet, pretty please.."

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

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

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

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

"don't move."

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

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

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justsomerandomfanfic · 11 months

Text

Despite Everything - Patrick Bateman X GN Reader

Title: Despite Everything

Patrick Bateman X GN Reader

Additional Characters: N/A

Requested by Anon!

WC: 1,876

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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multific · 2 years

Text

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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slashv1xen · 17 days

Note

Patrick bateman head cannons 🫣?

ofc anonie <3

patrick bateman headcannons 💗

loves girls that can cook

he can cook as well, but he rather not

his type is classy, elegant women

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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slasher-male-wife · 1 year

Note

hi!! ok so i saw ur one shots on slashers dating an airhead, but i LOVED patrick’s one shot. so i wanted to ask if you could make a little fic on that one shot?

I'd love to write this for you. What I wrote before is called head cannons and what I'm writing now is called a one shot btw. I totally understand getting them mixed up though. I hope you enjoy!

They're stupid but...I kind of like that: Patrick Bateman x airhead reader

Warnings: Attempted murder, Patrick has a soft spot for you

Patrick invited you over to his apartment. You work with him at the office. You're an assistant for one of his coworkers and he's heard other men in the office talk about how dumb you are but he's never really believed that you could be that dumb. Patrick is in the bathroom now, putting on his clear rain coat. You're waiting in the living room on the couch, news paper spread all over the ground.

When Patrick re enters the living room he notices you holding up one of the newspapers. 'Odd' He thinks to himself. Walking over to the kitchen where the ax lays he notices you really reading the news paper.

"Y/n?" He asks. You lower the paper and look at him. Realization washes over his face. He assumes you just saw the ax and the rain coat but you set the paper back on the ground.

"I'm so sorry you probably had those there for a reason. I didn't mean to mess it up." He stares at you blankly trying to determine if you're just playing dumb or if you really are that dumb.

"No that's fine. I was just wondering what you were doing." You nod and look him up and down.

"Is it raining outside? If it is you don't have to walk me out to my cab I can do it myself." You say standing up.

"No, no. Just sit there for a little while alright?" You nod with a smile still on your face. Patrick ducks back into the kitchen and runs a hand over his face. 'How can they be so clueless?' He thinks to himself, 'I mean they deal with stocks and important finance all day. They're stupid, obviously...but I kind of like that.' He spends a few more moments in the kitchen before he walks back out to the living room. Now not wearing the clear rain coat, "Y/n can I ask you something?" He asks moving to sit next to you on the couch.

"Of course Mr. Bateman." He smiles a polite but empty smile.

"Please, call me Patrick. But I was wondering if you know how stocks are going at the moment." You pause for a moment before you bite your lip then smile.

"This is going to sound really bad. But I don't know a thing about stocks. I feel so guilty all the time because I'm working around them so much but I just don't know a thing about them." His smile grows more sincere as he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

"I don't think that's a bad thing at all Y/n." He says.

#patrick bateman #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

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terr1ble-lie · 7 months

Text

Mind reader

i usually post on wattpad and use tumblr for reading or speaking my mind, so sorry my followers who just see this

Patrick Bateman x fem!reader

WARNINGS: smut/NSFW, dubcon, degredation, forced proximity. the mains ones, if you think i should add any more let me know <3

you and bro are trapped in a elevator/lift together. you hate him, he hates you. but he always knows how to pass the time.

(It’s been to long since I’ve seen this movie, so bare with. read through once or twice but there probs still a few mistakes)

You and Patrick Bateman had never gotten along. You were all he hated in a woman. Strong minded, opinionated, *a human being opposed to an object*. Good thing for him, you hated him just as much. Objectively at least. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get something out of his controlling and rude nature. Though you’d never admit that to yourself. It’s everything you stand against. But that was half of the appeal…

Much to your utter disgust, and no doubt his own, you two were stuck in an elevator together. It had stopped working between floors. And you two would be in here for at least an hour. Or so the mechanic on the emergency call told you.

“Just my damn luck..”

You annoyedly mumbled to yourself. Running your fingers through your hair.

“You read my mind”

the words uttered from his pampered mouth held no emotion whatsoever. It wasn’t a surprise.

“I can’t think of anything I’d want less in all fairness. Reading your mind would no doubt drive me to jump until the damn lift drops”

*here we go again…*

“The fact that you 're even considering that means you’ve thought about it at least once.”

He sounded smug, like catching you in a lie. Though you didn’t let it show how much such a small comment got on your nerves

“It’s not like there’s much to think about when we are trapped together in such a small space”

You grumbled. mind spiralling to try and distract you from your current circumstances though it wasn't much of a distracting, judging by the fact your eyes locked straight onto him. A hungry gaze masked by judgement wandered over to his slightly taller, and a lot broader, body. You were stood leaning against the closed door. He was standing straight on the other side, no more than 3 ft between the two of you. Of course this was a perfect opportunity to check him out, not like he’d get anything but an unnecessary ego boost from it.

Your eyes dragged over him from head to toe. Lingering on the way his tailored slacks tighten over his toned thighs. You wondered how much the man could lift. But the thought was soon pushed from your mind as your eyes landed on another part the pants strained against.

letting your gaze stay in his bulge for longer than you were willing to admit to yourself. You felt like the type of people you so despised. Checking others out as if they were a freshly cooked steak. You took your self disgust as a cue to avert your ever-more interested eyes.

But that glance was all you needed for your mind to spin.

Sadly, said glance was also all he needed too.

“You’re as a subtle as a brick”

He broke the silence. Your face immediately flushing, albeit subtly. Ironic.

“Don’t pretend I haven’t caught you getting more than an eyeful of all the women in this office. They should put you on a damn leash”

she retorted. Shifting in her stance to cross one ankle over the other as her back arched off the door in return. Your poor shirt straining against your full chest at the movement. The small gaps in the fabric give a clear enough view to see the ash grey bra you wore. This time it was the bateman's hungry eyes drinking in the sight.

“Dressing for comfort over appearances? Maybe you're not as much of a slut as I thought”

You scoffed at his comment. Running her hand through her hair once more before responding, reluctantly.

“Proving my damn point”

“I never said I didn’t. Keep up.”

You felt your fists clench in self restraint as he continued nonchalantly insulting you. One of the many reasons you fantasised about the man begging for mercy from you. In any and all ways. Who could blame you though, right?

Entertaining him with a response would both add to your annoyance and his smugness, so you decided against it. The fact he continued shouldn’t have been a surprise. And this time he took a step closer.

“You should wear lace tomorrow. Black, balconette style. Easier on the eyes”

He quips. It did nothing but make your damn blood boil. you were always quick to react.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

The scoff scoff drew a twitch from his eye. It was barely noticeable but enough to make her feel proud for getting a reaction.

“I was thinking the same about you. Although I’m sure it would be easy enough to make you”

“What do you m-“

You were cut off by a strong hand lacing in your hair and tugging you to the side sharply. Your head kept to the left, the side of your neck exposed. And much to your surprise, the movement drew a involuntary whimper from her throat

“hmm.”

he took another step closer so his body kept you cornered against the door of the lift. His grip tightening in your hair and pulling you down further. your hands darting up the grab his wrist in a feeble attempt to get away from him

“Get your damn hands off you me you sick bastard-“

you were once again cut off. His free hand strikes you hard across the face and draws another, more pained whimper from her. A grimace formed on your lips as the sting flooded the sensitive flesh of your cheek. And you glared up at him.

He showed nothing. Not even a smirk. And despite it all, the dreaded ache of arousal coiled in the dip of your pelvis in a way you've never felt before.

Your breath was heavier, hotter. And then he finally chuckled. It was mocking with nothing real behind it. More a show of dominance than anything else.

“This will pass time I guess. Kneel, whore”

You whined in response to his venom laced words. Shaking your head as much as you could with his grip still in your hair, as strong as it was. To nobody’s amazement, this didn’t sit well with the man.

He wrapped a leg to coil around yours before giving you a sharp jab in the back of the knee with his heel. Taking a swift step back to give you enough room to fall to your knees. His hand never leaves your hair for even a second.

“I can see it in your eyes. Dont lie to me.”

Before your protests could leave your mind, he’d already unzipped and unbuttoned his slacks. Freeing his almost concerningly hard erection. He really was getting off on forcing this out of you. And to your disgust, you were too.

Without a second thought you presented your open mouth for fucking. Your rational thought now completely clouded by arousal and you accepted this was in fact happening. And he accepted the invitation with open arms, and legs. Invading your mouth with his painfully large cock.

You gagged, the result of his negligent speed of thrusting into your mouth and instantly hitting the back of your throat.

the feeling of your throat tightening around him in attempts to purge him of your insides was almost euphoric. Expressing his pleasure in an almost inaudible grunt.

He used his grip on your locks to guide your head to meet his thrusts. Beginning to fuck your face as if you were nothing but a toy to him. And it suited you. That was all you were to the tall, brunette businessman taking advantage of your less and savoury kinks.

His pace increased. The spare, large and veined hand of his bracing himself against the door of the elevator you were once leant on. your satisfyingly tight throat meeting every snap of his hips.

You moaned around him. The depraved noise sends a subtle vibration right through him.

“Do that again..-“

He spoke between the heavy breaths synced with his thrusts. And you knew it wasn't a polite request. And you happily, instinctively obliged. More moans being forced from your Pre-cum soaked throat.

He never lost control of his thrusts. The only thing he gave as warning of his climax was the distended groan he let out before his grip on your hair tightened very painfully. Soon your throat was warmed and coated in ribbons of cum. And he glared down at you. A silent demand you followed almost eagerly. Taking great care to keep your eyes locked with his as you swallowed every last drop. within two attempts. It was difficult while he was still in your mouth.

He removed his cock eventually after he was satisfied you’d taken him fully. And as quickly as it all happened, his tailored slacks were zipped up once more and his back was against the far lift wall.

Your jaw was left aching. Your expensive lipstick smudged down your chin and mascara gathering at the corner of your eyes. But you stood. The action of you standing made you realise the lift was moving up again. That trademark ding ringing out as you finish readjusting your skirt.

You turned around just as the door slid open. Wordlessly pushing past the people crowded around waiting to see if you were both ok. You hoped you walked fast enough that your ruined makeup looked like the blur of movement.

But Just before you were out of earshot, you heard that painfully familiar voice ring out from behind you

“Maybe you couldn’t read my mind but I sure as hell read yours”

You hated that he was right.

#fanfiction #horror movies #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x reader #american psycho #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #first fanfic in a long time and written for my friend #im so sorry this exsists lmao

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mothhmannn · 2 months

Text

🧁🩷

"What's the matter, Cupcake?"

I'm happy to announce that I'm making a comic based on this fanfic chapter by @makeyoumine69 ! Go show her writing some love <3

Thank you Lexi for letting me draw for you :)

#art #american psycho #patrick bateman #bateman #bret easton ellis #drawing #christian bale #american psycho fanart #comic art #comics #fanfiction #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x female reader

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applesontheground · 11 months

Note

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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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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