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#patrick bateman imagine
makeyoumine69 · 1 year
Note
Love ur writing it always makes me so happy when you post
For the celebration can you do breeding, belly bulge, and loss of innocence/virginity please 🥵🥵
Obsession
◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader
◥ SUMMARY: When your father told you that you were going to marry the son of his biggest business partner, named Patrick Bateman, you didn't believe him at first, but eventually you had to face reality and accept your destiny.
◥ WARNINGS: Smut, hurt /comfort, forced marriage, forced pregnancy (kinda), loss of virginity, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, nipple play/tit sucking, teasing, vaginal sex, creampie, belly bulge, Breeding kink, Praise kink, Innocent kink, Size kink, sweet dirty talk, multiple orgasms, humiliation, manipulation, pet names, horny hubby!Patrick Bateman himself.
◥ WORDCOUNT: 4.1k
◥ SONG REC: Mariah Carey - Obsessed🖤
◥ A/N: Finally, I managed to finish this prompt. I really enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for this request, I hope you like it!
◥ LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [BWC MASTERLIST].
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You were so scared and lost that you couldn't really believe it was happening - you wished that marrying Patrick Bateman was just a dream... but it wasn't. It all felt so real when after the super luxurious wedding, you rode in his limo to the Plaza Hotel for your first night together. Because the whole situation between the two of you was so rushed, you didn't even have time to get to know each other better, your father was too impatient and he wanted this marriage to happen as soon as possible. However, you remembered Patrick since you were children and all the girls around were always so charmed by him, even when he was just a little cheeky boy.
“What’s wrong, darling?” Patrick suddenly asked, placing his large palm on your knee. 
With a sharp gasp, you shrugged from his unexpected touch and turned to face him, holding for a moment to admire his beautiful, brown eyes. 
“Nothing.” You replied, breaking eye contact with him once you noticed you were staring at him for too long. 
You heard him letting out a tired sigh, and then Bateman tried to cuddle with you a bit, wrapping his arm around your slightly shaking shoulders. “I know that everything seems to be a bit messy but…”
"It doesn't seem like it, but it really is," you looked at him again, his face so close to yours that you had to hold your breath. "Literally…everything."
"Baby, please. Don't interrupt me, okay?" Patrick tried his best to be patient and polite, but you could feel his hand tightening on your back with each passing moment. "Things are really messed up, but I want to assure you – if you can be a good wife, I'll be a great husband to you. That sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?"
Shivering from being so close to him, you almost writhed in your seat when you felt his searing lips brushing behind your ear as he murmured something soft, something soothing, but you couldn't concentrate as the meaning of his words slipped away from you like a leaf in the wind.
“Pat-Patrick, actually … there’s one thing I didn’t tell you yet,” you mused nearly audible. “You know, I’ve never been close with anyone.”
“What do you mean?”
As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, the limo stopped and you both looked into the window to see the beautiful illumination of the Plaza. 
“Oh thank God, we’re finally here … I really hate NY in this time of the day, because of these fucking traffic jams.” 
Bateman’s rants still resound behind your back even when you got outside. Gently, he held your waist for support as you moved to the entrance to the grand hotel, your hand kept fixing the hem of your massive dress. 
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It was not surprising that Patrick chose a luxury presidential suite for you, with large rooms and high ceiling above. You couldn't hide your fascination and that made him smirk loftily whilst he was helping you to remove your half-coat. Little by little, you moved to what was supposed to be a living room and took a seat on the huge black leather couch, suppressing growing anxiety inside your chest. 
“Do you like this place?” Patrick looked at you before letting out a short whistle, removing his jacket. 
“Yes, it’s really nice.” Smiling timidly, you clutched at the skirt of your dress once you saw him coming closer. 
“Uh, you always loved fancy things, darling,” he sat next to you, throwing his leg over another and placing his hand on the back of the couch, almost touching your shaky shoulders. “Well, nothing's too good for my wifey.”
His kiss on your lips was so sudden that it sent a million chills down your spine, causing your lungs to cramp from the lack of oxygen. At first, you clawed frantically at his solid biceps as you felt his hot tongue slide against your mouth in a demanding manner. You jolted once you gave him what he wanted, because this kiss was nothing compared to the one you shared at the wedding - it was much more passionate, but still you couldn't relax.
“Pat-Patrick, please … wait,” you whispered as your voice shook, searching for his brown eyes which now were dark as a midnight sky. “You must know one very important thing.”
“What is it, my dear?” 
"I'm..." you stuttered from the way he was staring at you, his hungry gaze literally eating you alive. "I'm a virgin, Patrick."
He frowned for a moment, then laughed uproariously before pulling up the hem of your dress, messing with its countless layers. "You can't be serious."
His reaction really embarrassed you, so you just pushed his big palm away and got up, leaving him on the couch with a disappointed grimace on his face.
"Hey! Where are you going?" He asked annoyingly, his golden Rolex wiggling on his wrist as he raised his hands in confusion.
"I want to get off this dress and change into something else," you complained, trying to reach the ties at the back of your dress to undo them. "I hate it!"
It was as if he hadn't even noticed your ranting when he rejoined you: "And what about that guy from college who was hovering around you like a fucking shark? Poor guy missed his chance to get a bite of a delicious pie like you?"
Gritting your teeth, you shrugged at the unpleasant sensation and shouted: "Don't you dare talk about him like that!"
He chuckled again, in his natural haughty way. "He was always a loser, and I always knew you would be mine."
You were almost done with the ties, but as soon as you heard his last words, you froze, feeling something snap in your mind. "What did you just say?"
Bateman's grin grew even wider as you turned to face him, with an unhidden dread in your eyes. "I said I always get what I want..." He stood up and walked over to the large coffee table near the couch, taking a glass and pouring some red liquid into it. "Wine?"
When you didn't answer, he took a sip of alcohol before continuing his malicious confession: "As you probably remember, my dear (Y/N), my father wanted me to marry," with every word he said, Patrick was slowly closing the distance between the two of you. "And he also wanted me to have an heir. The American dream family, that really works best for a good social reputation".
He paused, standing almost face to face with you, you could feel his expensive perfume enveloping you like a mist. “And?” 
Your curiosity made him sneer with delight, so he cupped your cheek and looked down at you, murmuring softly as if trying to lull you into a fake sense of comfort. "And then there was a business meeting with your father where I remembered you as the ideal candidate to be my wife," he smiled almost lovingly, stroking your cheekbone and placing a tender kiss on your temple. "Too bad you couldn't see the look on your father's face when we talked about it, he was as happy as if he'd won a fucking billion dollars."
Stifling the immense pain in your heart, you closed your eyes and almost fell into his embrace from the feeling of being so miserable in this selfish world. His words only proved your thoughts about being just a figure in another chase game of your dad, and according to what Bateman just told you - your father won a jackpot by forcing you to marry the son of his biggest business partner.
“But to be fair, I didn’t expect to be that lucky …” he murmured before pulling you closer, his hands traveling around your lower back. “… to get such an innocent flower.”
When Patrick kissed you on lips again, you didn’t even struggle as the dark void inside your soul was consuming all of your thoughts and feelings, leaving you completely empty. With no rush, Bateman was undoing the rest of the ties on your dress as if he was unwrapping his most desirable gift. Your throat shivered in a choked gasp, as your body was traitorously responding to each touch he made, especially when his large palms ran across your boobs to give them a slight squash. 
"Baby, you don't have to be afraid of me." His suddenly charming voice sounded like honey, so sweet and stringy. 
"I'm not afraid," you stared up at him, catching his hands that were now caressing your thighs. "I'm so... so fucking disappointed."
"It's understandable."
"But not for you," you scowled a bit, biting your lip to keep the salty tears from welling up in your eyes. "I'm just a toy for you... just like for my beloved father."
Suddenly Patrick's eyebrows knitted, making him look a little frustrated. "No, you're not."
"Enough lies," you wanted to push him away, but he only held you tightly, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. "This is all so fake!"
"Maybe everything around us is fake, but we are not..." he gently traced a finger along your cheek, moving down to outline your trembling lips. "We're real, and when I said I'd take care of you, it wasn't a lie."
The way he looked at you was literally captivating, it caught you off guard and you couldn't help but breathe out sharply as his plump lips nestled against the sensitive spot on your neck. 
"Pat... Patrick," your hands clung to his shoulders as you desperately searched for protection, and your inner nature told you that he could do it - his strong arms were like a shield between you and the whole world. "I really want to make it work, but..."
Bateman didn't allow you to finish, pressing his thumb against your mouth and then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing as he walked into the big, fashionable bedroom. Shaking slightly, you closed your eyes from the sense of unreality that clouded your mind like the strongest alcohol.
Did he just say he was going to take care of you? 
The man you had always known as a total egoist, who loved no one but himself, now covered your small frame from above as he laid you on the king-size bed, planting little kisses on your cheek before settling on his knees, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his white shirt.
"You look gorgeous, (Y/N)," he mused, taking your leg to peck at your ankle, causing your back to arch at his unexpected tenderness. "As you always do."
Cautiously, Patrick slid down your luxury wedding dress, exposing your bare skin that was not hidden under your beautiful white lingerie - just a glimpse of it made him swallow hard, and when you gave him your most innocent look, he licked his lips briefly as his nostrils began to turn red.
Panting barely audibly, Bateman stood on the floor to remove his clothes, not wasting a moment to admire your embarrassed face, the more naked he became, the more noticeably you began to fidget.
"Come here, darling." He purred like a cat and beckoned you over to sit on the edge of the bed.
There was something sweet about him, as all the girls always said when they saw him, which was probably the reason why you couldn't resist him as you obeyed and knelt beside him, waiting for his next move.
“Babydoll,” he stroked your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes again from the blissful sensation of his warm palm. “Tonight, I’m gonna guide you into the world of pure pleasure … ”
You shuddered at his promise as your insides tightened like a spring - that strange sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.
"You'll never be the same after this, sweetheart." Bateman crooned, wrapping his hand around your neck, not to hurt you, but to make you feel his unspoken dominance.
“A-ahh,” your low moan caressed his ears and that was one of the most delighted things he ever heard. “What do you want me to do?”
Your hasty question impelled him to humm in absolute adoration, as Patrick drew near your mouth to kiss you hungirly, never in your life someone was kissing you like that, sucking on your lips one by one and biting them a bit, making you literally melt in his strong arms.
"Be yourself, (Y/N)," he whispered into your ear, hugging your shoulders before pushing on them determinedly, and now you were sprawled on the bed beneath him. "You're incredible just the way you are."
Trembling, you wanted to scream as his words worshiped your broken soul, even if he was only doing it to befuddle you and get what he wanted - in that moment, you didn't care as the strange, burning desire grew from the inside, corrupting your innocent mind by the second.
Delicately, Bateman darted his soft fingers against your belly, sliding them up to your heavy breasts, teasing your nipples with light strokes, you gasped from that contact, creasing the blanket and spreading your legs that allowed him to rest himself more comfortably. 
“Good girl,” he praised you and pulled down the straps of your lingerie to expose your extremely hard peaks. “Mmm … my sweet, little girl.” He gave one of them a few licks, before he took it into his hot mouth, sucking it with pure delight. 
“A-aww, Gosh … ” You wailed and enfolded your arms around his head, not even realizing you were pressing him closer. 
Patrick exhaled a muffled groan and switched to your other nipple, swirling his wet tongue around it so deliciously that the tight knot in your lower abdomen was begging to be released.
“Patrick! P-Patrick please!”
“Mmm, honey, you have amazing tits,” he huffed and trapped your swollen tip between his sharp, white teeth, forcing you to freeze in silent moan of pleasure. Seizing the moment, he sneaked his long fingers between your legs to grope your taut lower lips. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet and we have only just started.”
Breathing heavily, you look up at him from under your lashes with your dazed eyes, feeling his soft finger pads slide up and down your feverish pussy. Bateman stared back at you, smirking in his arrogant way, especially when you jerked beneath him as he slipped a thumb inside your panties and pressed it against your sensitive nub.
"No one's ever touched you like this before?" Patrick asked, rubbing your clit steadily, forcing you to bend your legs into knees to give him more space to play with. 
You tossed the pillows around to cover your face and just nodded, feeling his ministrations becoming more and more insistent, you didn't know how long you could stand it. 
"Mmm, does that feel good, baby?" He watched you from above, admiring the view of your trembling body as his fingers slid over your cunt like clockwork, making obscene, sleek noises.
"A-arrh, yes ... mmm ... so good."
To be fair, Bateaman knew what you were going to say before you answered, because he was absolutely confident in his sex skills, and you would remember this night for a long time.
First, he left a light kiss on your side, passing your rib bones as he descended to your mound, leaving a wet trail of hickeys. Fondly, Patrick opened your hips wide apart, and he had to hold them securely as he pushed your underwear aside. You winced because you knew what he was going to do, and when he finally latched his plump lips against your blushing clit, you didn't know whether to stop him or explode right here - his skilled tongue left you with no choice. 
"Mm-mmhm, ohhh God, I can't... I can't, Patrick! It's too much," you writhed on the bed, the tension in your womb too intense for you to bear. "P-Please ... ah, please ..."
Uncertain of what you were pleading for, you let him strap your legs over his broad shoulders as he lapped at your cunt without stopping, sucking your burning flesh and consuming your sweet juices like his favourite dessert. You were so fucking close to combustion when a sudden sharp pain ripped through your body, causing you to shriek in agony.
"Shh, it's all right ... I need to prep you, (Y/N)," he smooched the inside of your hip, slowly pushing his thin fingers into your spasming cleft. "Hang in there, baby. Will you do it for me?"
His voice was so soothing, so convincing. As you wiped away your tears, you saw him offer you a hand and you took it, letting your fingers intertwine. Patrick interpreted this gesture as a 'yes' and the next moment his lips found their way back to your clit, flicking it with his warm tongue and sparingly pumping your pussy with his expert fingers.
As much as he attempted to be gentle, it was still painful as he plunged deeper with each passing second.  "Mmm, I..." you stammered as you felt him add another finger. "I'm scared, Patrick."
"Don't be," Bateman mused after tugging on your little tip with a squelch, slowly twisting his digits and looking at you from between your legs. "As long as you're a good girl for me, you've got nothing to worry about."
Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes from the stinging sensation of your shimmering tears. You knew there was no going back, you belonged to this man now and he could do whatever he wanted with you. Still, you tried to believe him, it might be naive and stupid, but... you just couldn't deny your sympathy towards him, especially when he treated you so kindly and lovingly.
Maybe one day you would regret it, but for now all you could do was whimper loudly and writhe on the king-size bed in the most expensive suite at the Plaza Hotel as your lawful husband was about to make you his, now and forever.
After a while, your taut body couldn't take any more of the crazy mix of pain and ecstasy that was intoxicating your mind - you orgasmed so vividly that you were afraid you were going to pass out from the feeling of your inner walls pulsating again and again.
"Yes ... just like that, honey," Patrick murmured, his fingers still pounding into your spasming cunt, prolonging your climax and it seemed you were about to cum again. "Ahhh, baby, you make me so proud."
"Patrick..." your chest rose and fell so abruptly that your face burned from the heat, as if someone had poured hot tea on you. "Mmm..."
You only managed to squeak out as Bateman suddenly rolled you over, forcing you to stay on your knees as he sat behind you. Shit, he was so huge, you felt so tiny in his arms, especially when he wrapped them around you to plant a sloppy kiss on your neck, he could feel the artery beating so fast.
"You'll like it, believe me," he chuckled softly before pushing down on your back to bend you over. "It will hurt, I admit, but not for too long."
At the very last moment, a creeping fear took over your mind and even after several orgasms he had worked you up, you couldn't relax, knowing the pain to come. Nervously, you bent down to rest your head on your crossed elbows, his hot flesh poking at your tight little hole. God, he was so big... you knew it from the time you danced close together at your wedding, your inner channel clenching around nothing in anticipation of what would happen next.
"(Y/N)," he called your name longingly, stroking his full length as he spread your wetness around his engorged head. "I've never wanted someone as badly as I want you now."
Bateman lowered himself to lick your neck, and then you screamed loudly as he began to thrust into you, gripping your hips tightly as you instinctively tried to slip away. 
"Pat! Mmm, I'm so f-full, Goshhh," you tried your best to hold yourself back from crying, but the tearing sensation in your lower abdomen was too much to handle. "W-wait!"
"Almost there, darling," Patrick lied, as it was only the tip, but he didn't want to make the current situation any worse, so he decided to just keep going, ramming into you with more effort, grabbing you by the waist and almost digging his fingers into your delicate skin. "You're doing so well, mmmm ... F-fuck, you're so tight, baby."
Bateman really tried to control himself, but the way you embraced his thick cock was too blissful, it brought out his inner beast faster than he thought.
"Aaa-awww, so... so big, oh mmmm," your eyes rolled back in your head as he buried himself completely into your squeezed womb, your saliva dripping uncontrollably from your mouth. "Ah! It hurts..."
Without hesitation, Patrick leaned down to your neck and tongued your earlobe in order to soothe you a little, and when that didn't help, he cupped your face to bring you closer as his red-hot lips locked with yours. Passionately, he attacked your mouth, sucking and licking your tongue with a slurpy sound. 
"You will give me a child, sweetheart," Bateman muttered in a demanding tone before forcing you to sit on your knees and covering you from behind. "A beautiful son..." he thrust deeper, holding you by the neck. "...or a daughter...or both."
The sounds of flesh meeting flesh mixed with the squelching your pussy made each time his beefy shaft moved in and out of your inner channel, relentlessly hitting your cervix with its tip.
"Yes, P-Patrick ... I'll do anything you ... want ... aaaww!" Your ability to speak diminished each time he rocked into your body, pressing you closer to his solid muscles as he settled more comfortably on his knees beside you. 
"Of course, you will, baby girl."
Bateman was about to lose it at any moment from the way your tight hole was squeezing his dick, and your lascivious moans only encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster. 
"Do you feel that love?" Patrick put his hand on your belly, impaling you relentlessly on his thick cock. "Can you feel my dick hitting your belly? Arrgh-fuck, you're so delicate and fragile ... I'm even afraid of breaking you."
After his brief confession, Bateman took your palm and placed it on your tummy, so you could sense the outline of his huge dick sliding inside you, and that sensation literally made you choke on air. 
"I feel it ... Patrick, I f-feel it ... aaah," you threw your head back, resting it on his sturdy shoulder. "Patrick..."
You mumbled his name over and over as a saving mantra, your eyes now full of tears, and as if that was not enough, his hips began to slam into yours with increasing intensity. For a moment you found yourself fading away from the tremendous sensation of being so fucking full and abused that you couldn't even pronounce a world, only moaning wildly as you were fucking like animals, so ruthless and totally out of control.
"F-Fuck, I'm gonna make you pregnant again and again, mm-my dear wifey," he suddenly lowered his palm down your mound to rub your oversensitive bud, smearing your slick all around your pubic area and causing your legs to tremble frantically. "Shit," he felt you clenching around his dick as you climaxed so abruptly from his rubbing circular movements. He watched you quiver in his arms, your mouth paralysed in a silent cry as he kissed your temple and contemplated: "I wanna see your belly swell with my child ... I bet you'll look so beautiful, ahh-fuck."
Growling, Patrick closed his eyes from the surging ecstasy that soon consumed him, causing his whole body to cramp and his thrusts to become absolutely raw but ragged. As he pumped his fertile seed into your pussy, he didn't stop ramming into you, holding you tightly in his muscular arms until he was spent to the last drop. The feeling of warm cum filling you from the inside was so overwhelming that you didn't have time to be afraid, as if it was destined to happen before you could even think.
‘Just be a good wifey for him,' kept nagging at the back of your mind, your tears falling on your sweaty body as your eyes were wide open, staring at that one spot on the ceiling above with bitter sorrow in your chest.
From now on, you would never belong to yourself again. Not ever.
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dominantslasherking · 6 months
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Patrick Bateman with Dominant Male S/o
My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+
Backstory: Patrick had always mistaken his jealousy for you to be out of wanting what you want, to be like you, when it was in fact that Patrick was jealous because he couldn't be with you. Patrick wants to show you how much he wants you, by getting on his knees like a good boy. (BTW you're his boss) Warnings: Needy Patrick Bateman. Bratty Patrick Bateman. Submissive Patrick bateman
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"Mr. Bateman?"
His assistant's voice was drowned out by his raving thoughts, his still face urked something deeper on the inside. Patrick's breath halted as he watched you enter the meeting room. Patrick''s eyes fixated on you, the object of his all-consuming fixation, You, wearing a designer suit so exquisitely tailored. "The stitching was so fine that it could have been performed by angels, and the black silk tie, perfectly knotted, was a stark contrast to the snowy white dress shirt beneath. His cuffs peeked out just enough, revealing pristine, perfectly aligned links that seemed to shimmer in the ambient light."
Patrick's inner monologue continued to obsess over your suit and how it was tailor-made, and it made Patrick grit his teeth a bit that you one-upped him with your tailor-made, and currently-in-style suit.
Patrick was snapped out of his intense thinking as you greeted him, your large and veiny hand, taking in his own. "Pleasure, once again Mr Bateman." Your humble and husky voice rang. Patrick gave a fake smile. "Of course." You could tell that Patrick held back his greetings of praise was that jealousy written on his face? The business meeting continued on normally, Patrick always sparing you passing glances, a mixture of emotions displayed in his eyes.
<>><<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>> The next scene was at Dorsia, the place Patrick could never get into, but he was oh so shocked to receive an invitation from you of all people.
But Patrick was just happy he could get in, he wore a fake smile, his best suit, and a pretty woman at his side. Patrick's smile instantly fell when he saw you, with a breathtaking woman, more beautiful than the one at his side.
But it wasn't jealousy of the woman you had, it was something more, that Patrick couldn't place just yet.
"Don't worry, the meal is on me." You politely stated, as Patrick's intense gaze lifted up from the menu and onto you for a brief moment, a mutter under his breath, something incoherent, but, you could tell he was mocking you. Slowly you rested your face lightly on your knuckles amused by him, how come you have never noticed such a handsome yet bratty worker? Not only that but when the waiter came over, you saw a sinister grin place itself on Patrick's face as he smiled showing off his pearly teeth. "I think I'll indulge in the 'Golden Elixir of Ostentation,'" Patrick said purposely ordering the most expensive alcoholic beverage on the menu, he was clearly reveling in his choice. It seemed he was expecting you to protest in a sense, but you straightened up your posture a bit and gave a small nod. "Make that two bottles." "The bratty veneer I had carefully cultivated crumbled away. It was a sensation I hadn't felt in a long time - the desire to submit." Patrick had thought. His face fell into one of stillness and unease.
<>><<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>>
Patrick opened his mouth, letting your fingers enter. Patrick's tongue rolled around, licking and slurping on your fingers, as he then began to suck, maintaining eye contact with you. On his knees, in your fancy penthouse is where the current setting was. Patrick was already stripped of most of his suit, his suit's jacket laying somewhere, Tie gone, his white dress shirt unbuttoned nearly fully, his hair a mess. "[Name].." Patrick's voice was muffled and breathless as he tried to speak with your fingers in his mouth, his eyes were a bit droopy with lust.
"In that instant, the power dynamics shifted, and I found myself navigating a treacherous new territory, craving his attention and approval more than ever before." --- Patrick Bateman.
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whereireid · 1 year
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𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐘 — masterlist
pairing: patrick bateman x fem!reader
Summary: Patrick gives up control for one night. It doesn’t exactly go the way that you want it to.
— warnings: nsfw content, sub!patrick but he still has psychological control ofc, blowjobs, teasing, restraints, choking
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"Are you trying to get me to beg?" Patrick asks, his brows knitting together as he watches your naked frame kneel before him, an uncomfortable throb shooting to the tent in his briefs as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. "Because if that's what you're doing, then I can assure you that I'm not going to plead to get you to touch me."
A soft coo slips past your lips as you stroke your fingers up Patrick's thigh, the muscle tensing involuntarily as your digits teasingly edge closer to the place where he wants you to touch him the most. You can tell that he's frustrated by the ticking of his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils, and you shoot him a loving smile as he glares down at you.
"You know how much I want you to beg," you murmur, your eyes glinting with mischief as you cup Patrick's hard cock through his briefs, a low groan drawing from the depth of his throat as you do so. "Please, Patrick? I want to hear how badly you want me."
"I'm not going to beg you to touch me.” His voice is emotionless, yet his throat grows dry when he watches your tongue comes out again, this time not to wet your lips but to lick at the outline of his cock through his briefs. "I'll get what I want eventually.” He tenses as you leave a wet stripe up his briefs, before he mockingly adds, “honey.”
You pout, your fingers careful as they slip under the band of his briefs, tugging at the Italian-made cotton softly. "At least pretend like I'm the one in control here," you huff, your hand curling around his cock, your lips quirking upwards as his pink tip leaks with precum. "Humour me a little, Patrick. Beg. Please?”
Patrick tries to ignore how comedic this situation actually is. He's the one tied up right now — his wrists are bound together with rope and he's tethered to the headboard, but somehow, he has all of the control. You're literally begging him to plead with you. If he was in your position and you were denying him of such sweetness, he'd bring out one of his knives and then you'd start blubbering and pleading like it's nobody's business.
He decides to humour you.
"Please suck my cock, honey. I need it so bad. I need it more than anything," he says flatly, the tip of his cock twitching against your cupid's bow as you beam up at him, "you have no idea what you do to me."
Surprisingly, it doesn't work.
"Don't mock me, Patrick. You're a little bit frustrated. I can see how tense you are." A low groan draws from his throat as you lick a delicate stripe up his length, careful to trace along his veins, your tongue sweetly swirling around his swollen head when you reach his tip. "If you don't comply with my orders, you're not getting what you want."
"Just put it in your mouth."
"I'll put it in my mouth when you ask me properly."
There it is — the tick in his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, the intense, downcast gaze. You're pushing his boundaries, and you grin as he huffs, your lips carefully pressing gentle kisses against his length.
Your movements are incredibly gentle as you cup his balls in the palm of your hand, your tongue flicking out to toy with the needy head of his cock. His eyes crinkle shut and his nose scrunches as you lick a slow, deliberate stripe from the head of his cock down to his balls, your tongue flattening against his length as you bring your skilful muscle back up to his tip.
It's torture. Delicious torture. His nostrils flare when you pull away, a lewd string of spit trailing from his cock to your lips. You look up at him through lidded eyes, and your heart races in your chest as you see how black and blown his pupils are, his hazel irises sheathed from the dilation of his lust.
Pride resides in the depth of Patrick's chest. He didn't think you actual had it in you to tease him, but as you pepper sultry kisses to his cock, he realises that he's actually beginning to lose patience. His hips thrust against your face involuntarily, and an embarrassing whine catches in his throat as you tease him.
"I won't ask again," he says, and there's an edge to his tone that has your heart wrenching and fear prickling at your skin, "put it in your mouth. Please."
You smile.
It's the closest you're ever going to get to Patrick pleading with you. This small act of submission is enough — his bound wrists were his idea, not yours, meaning he was still in control even when he was complying with your demands to be domineering for once.
"Only because you asked so nicely," you tease, flinching under his warning gaze, your lips wrapping around the head of his cock carefully.
Your mouth is so warm and so wet, and Patrick's jaw clenches so hard that he wonders how he hasn't broken a tooth in the process. You feel so good as you roll your head up and down his cock lazily, your tongue trailing around his length as you force your head down, your nose pressing against his crotch as you take every inch of his cock inside of your mouth.
You gag. It's like heaven — the constriction of your throat tightens the grip your mouth has on his cock, and the warm, familiar feeling of arousal pools in your belly as Patrick hisses from above you, the muscles of his thighs flexing underneath your touch. There's something so intimate about how he's giving himself to you, how he's allowing you to have control, and you flush under his heavy gaze as you choke around his length, still not quite used to the uncomfortable girth of his cock.
"I'm glad that I made you bind me to the bed with these ropes," Patrick breathes from above you, his eyes starry as your tongue flicks over his tip, rolling over his slit carefully. "I want to hurt you so badly. If I wasn't restrained I think I'd ruin you completely."
The twitching head of his cock is a good enough signal that he's close. He grunts from above you, and it feels like he's been punched as his eyes lock onto yours, your mouth set upwards into a smile, your mouth glistening with salvia and precum.
Patrick's eyelids flutter shut, and you giggle as he groans again — usually he's not so vocal — using his moans as means of encouragement, forcing your head down, taking in all of his length, until you can no longer breathe breathe.
Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your lungs are burning by the time that he cums. You struggle against him, squeezing your eyes shut, taking in every inch of him, your tongue lewdly lapping at his balls in an attempt to shock him through his orgasm.
And it works. Patrick is so tense that you can feel every single indentation of muscle, and your fingers dart over his chiselled abs, your cunt pulsing with need as he spews incoherent insults from above you.
By the time your breathing has steadied and you've finished swallowing, Patrick is no longer tense. He's no longer twitching, but his cock is still hard and heavy, a small bead of cum dribbling down his length as he gazes at you such fire you feel like you're being set alight.
"Untie me," he says, his voice dripping with authority and warning, “now."
"Yes, Patrick." You scramble towards him, quick to loosen the knots in the rope, your heart thrashing wildly in your chest.
You realise that the only reason you were in control then is because Patrick let you be. Once the knots are untied, his hands scatter towards your throat, and your eyes are wide and frantic as he presses down on your trachea, cutting off your air supply, making you feel dumb and incredibly horny.
His eyes blaze wildly as he gazes down at you, and he smirks, his pearly white teeth glistening in the florescent lights of his bedrooms as he promises, "you're in for a long night, honey."
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sl4sh3rsub · 2 months
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patrick bateman hcs (nsfw: mdni)
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patrick bateman x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)
warnings: overall pretty toxic, homophobic and misogynistic, there's a lot of infidelity/cheating and drug usage/alcohol too. there is also shaming of sex work - this is purely fictional and i do not condone this behavior in real life. i wrote in these elements because they appear in the original source material, not because i hold these opinions/views. mentions of extreme kink/fetish (knife play, blood play), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), oral sex (giving + receiving), handjobs, cockwarming, implied dom/sub dynamics (patrick is a top + sugar daddy/dom/slight sadist + is entitled, reader is more submissive + sweet), lots of cum + precum/arousal, reader sometimes treated as sex object, marking (bruises, bite marks, hickeys etc.), dubious consent? (overstimulation, he can be manipulative, reader flashes someone in afab section), reference to past rough sexual encounters, lots of sexual tension, patrick is sociopathic(?) + gets hard a lot + is possessive/slightly domestic but still rough, canon colleagues (schrödinger's judgement + they're horny), nipple play, voice kink/voicemail sex, threats/mentions of canon (?) violence (not towards reader), exhibitionism + public settings, consensual filming of sexual acts, gun play/fear play, cigar gets extinguished on reader (research risks properly before trying irl, please stay safe), hired sex worker, mentions of surgery in ftm + mtf sections, rip jean + evelyn's emotions
a/n: i'm a massive fan of the broadway musical (bootleg available on youtube) and i've seen the film twice, but i still need to read the book!! i've listened to this youtube audiobook (ai voice patrick reading it - part one) and it kinda goes hard. anyway, peeb ateman is soft with reader in this one, so it could potentially be a little ooc.
order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much
_ _ _ _ _
general hcs
patrick is already engaged to evelyn when he meets you. he's very well aware that she's seeing timothy price, so he might as well have his own fun - divorce isn't in fashion this year, so being prepared for that potential outcome might turn some heads and patrick hates judgmental attention
if you're already in a relationship with someone, he'll whisk you away immediately. you deserve so much better than some chump who can't afford to spoil you, he'll prove his superiority with his shiny silver card
show him genuine affection and take interest in his music taste!! if you listen to him and take time out of your day to participate in conversation, he'll abruptly stop mid-sentence to process that you're invested in his recap of his day :( you'll have no issues with him from then out - you respect him and he'll respect you. he's quietly thankful for how kind you are to him
if patrick has a yearning to dabble in a certain kink or fetish - such as knife play or extreme blood play - that you're not willing to participate in, he'll just find someone who can satiate his needs temporarily. no harm done, patrick just wants to make sure he's not taking complete advantage of you - he'll pay for you to have a delicious dinner and fancy hotel for the night, don't worry. he still wants to take care of you and reassure you that no one is taking your place, and that you'll still have him in the morning... he just needs to let out his extreme urges throughout the night
his way of showing affection is brushing his nose against you, whether it be your temple, ear or cheek as he whispers sweet nothings to you. he longs for subtle contact and the gentle warmth of your skin. he's also addicted to burying his face in your neck or pressing his lips against your crown when he fucks you from behind or squirming in his lap, the small puffs of hot air tickling your flushed skin and his lidded eyes rolling at your scent
he digs his fingers into your lower tummy while he fucks you, feeling his cock ram deep inside you - he's shamelessly using you as his own fucktoy, massaging his length to get himself off. the extra pressure against his tip has him shuddering at the delicious sensation
yeah sure, patrick might be a weirdo and a loser but he can fuck you like he loves you (maybe he does) and spare cash to dry-clean your cum off his expensive suits... fair trade, no?
he practically becomes your sugar daddy - you're his personal doll to dress, provide for and parade around proudly. he wouldn't trade the satisfied glint in your eyes, or the rhythm of your glistening arousal dripping on his wood paneled floors for anything. after a long day of spoiling you, he becomes a little selfish in the bedroom and chases his high with no regard for how overstimulated you might get :(
he is obsessed with dressing you to match his personal perception of you - that is to say, have you dressed in a manner that would make atheists reconsider and have the faithful herald you as their new deity. he wants to ensure that everyone know why he worships you the way he does. even if you don't feel confident in your skin, he quietly reassures you that your bashfulness only adds to your charm
you're his personal model and his precious doll - plaything, if you will. after you return to his place from perusing the designer shops, he lounges back with a whiskey in hand and patiently watches you show off your latest purchases on his card. he'll ask you to spin or swap shoes to match the outfit every so often, even asking you to bend down towards him just so he can adjust your collar or hairstyle. if he gets taken aback by how stunning you look in a certain outfit, expect him to get carried away and start panic rambling - he'll explain the specifics of the material, cut or brand as his fingers roam your body with devotion and his eyes greedily drink you in. his voice gets progressively huskier throughout the show until he gets to the expensive undergarments hidden in matte bags and tissue paper - he fucks you in front of the mirror, reveling in the way the material hugs your skin and how your skin shifts as your muscles clench with every thrust
after he warmed up to you, patrick slowly realized how emotionally taxing your early encounters were on you and that you were left feeling used and roughed up afterwards. if he still makes you feel that way after he first admits his affection, definitely let him know - he might want to leave physical marks on you that linger for a week or so after, but emotional damage is the last thing he wants marring your relationship
something that resembles quiet devotion lingers in his gaze, the glint of chandeliers flashing as he quickly shakes his head and denies he was ever staring :( sure, you might not be the stereotypical 'hardbody', but you're more worth his time than all of the other whores that his cock stirs for - you're leagues better than the sluts turning tricks and actually deserve a place in his home, his bed, unlike the simple chicks he picks up from clubs. he actually respects you (though, not enough to acknowledge your independence away from him) and his silent approval - pride, even - of your actions sometimes slips through his mask
whenever you're in the room with him, there is an invisible yet tangible tension that tugs you together. the warm, compressing feeling always hones your vision onto patrick - it drowns out all of the noises and movement around you, grounding you in the all-consuming gaze of your lover. his eyes snap to yours whenever you enter the room and he instinctively feels a bulge growing in his slacks, his pupils dilating as his tongue darts out to dampen his lips. no polite conversation or mundane styling drivel is worth his time when you are in his field of view
patrick genuinely feels his blood thunder in his ears whenever the men at the table make snide remarks about your appearance or belittle you. he is absolutely disgusted at their attitudes and lack of understanding - you are his darling and you deserve to be treated as his equal, at a minimum. however, if the table murmurs about how sexy you look, he's more than willing to show you off a bit - he's proud of what's his, obviously! just don't let the boys get too bold with their 'polite' touches or they won't have fingers in the morning :<
he'll buy you a ring. not to propose, oh god no - he doesn't want to do the whole evelyn debacle again. patrick wants to simply state his territory and claim so that others would be less inclined to approach you (plus, it helps that he doesn't have to vividly daydream about it anymore - it saves brain power)
if he rushes home with dirty, damp gloves and a missing button on his overcoat, he'll forever be indebted to you if you pour him a stiff drink and prepare to call jean to postpone all events the next day
your head gets all fuzzy when his tongue drags along the line of your collarbone and his soft lips ghost down your chest - circling your nipple and threatening you with the edge of his teeth makes the edge of his mouth twist into a smirk. if you meet his gaze, his lidded eyes give away how content he is in this position, with you on top of his lap. his lips sheened with spit and your buttoned shirt yanked open make for an arousing sight
patrick is a big fan of smoking his cigars while you sloppily take his cock down your throat - he gets some sadistic pleasure from putting them out on your spit-soaked thighs, the drool hissing under the scorching heat. it's coincidentally also one of his favourite things to reminisce, running his fingers over your thighs while replaying those memories during boring social events. the scent of his expensive smoke, wafting around him in a saloon, has him drifting back to the sight of his hefty cock resting on your face - the length throbbing with every heartbeat, pearls of salty precum seeping into your soft skin and trailing in thin rivulets down the contours of cheekbone
he is a fan of sneaking a dab of his yves saint lauren perfume onto all of your formal wear, a little mark of him and something to keep you company whenever you're out at functions he's not attending
he drags you out to clubs just to dress you up and show you off under the bright, colourful flashing lights. you have his eye the entire time you're feeling yourself on the dance floor, tempting him your sensual movements from across the room - don't expect him to act on it immediately though, he's more than content to hold your gaze and sip his glass from the bar. if some sleaze dares to get handsy with you, he'll step in and guide you towards the bathroom as his fingers glide down to your lower back - he needs a bump to loosen up and not hurt every single chump eyeing you up. you're his plaything, after all.
if you spend a night at patrick's place, he'll secretly love taking showers with you - only because you help him rub in his cleansers and soaps into his skin, no other reason. certainly not that your devoted, admiring gaze make him flush and whisper his timid thanks under the steady stream of water, the noise lost in the pounding around your ears. ignore his building arousal, it'll stay there and grow even harder when he pleasures you with his tongue on the counter of his stainless-steel kitchen. you're the only one he'll kneel for, and you bet that there's a steamed-up outline of your ass on the countertop when he's done :3
despite his incessant need to fit in, he's never going to blend in while you remain by his side. you bring out that rare smile of his and that soft chuckle in public settings. you far outshine all the other, dull plus-ones at the dinner parties
you are patrick's trump card - everyone he knows either wants to be you or fuck you, they'll do anything to impress (especially if there's false hope of ending the night in bed with one or both of you)
if you're confident enough, you could be his personal little pornstar!! it makes you so giddy, the knowledge that he could show the snippets of the videos to his coworkers (who dream about getting you naked) and make them jealous of the fact that you've cum numerous times with patrick's name on your lips. the video is recorded on the best equipment of course - he can't have you on video while looking anything less than godlike on camera
he orders your favourite dishes at every restaurant, combs and brushes out your hair when you arrive at his apartment, then fucks you roughly while whispering how thankful he is for you. his babbling pleas for you to stay and praise of your existence echo in your mind for hours after, especially as he rests next to you with steady breathing
patrick leaves hickeys and bite marks all over you and while he might apologise while handing you anti-bruise supplements, know that his mind's eye is stuck on the sigh of your skin blossoming under his lips - specifically, the feeling of his teething nipping your skin and the small hum of satisfaction as he pulls away to inspect his work. if you've been good lately, he'll let you leave a hickey or mark on his chest - it's only fair after he leaves you bruised and aching in his arms the next morning :( if you've behaved to his liking, he'll share some of his japanese pear and kiwi for breakfast. you need some sugar to recoup anyway
if he's been snappy or pent up all day, he'll guilt you into taking him with minimal prep - he will snap and go feral if he's had to rein it in at work, plus the stretch feels heavenly around his thick cock
patrick had once ordered a prostitute for the two of you to experiment with - making sure they were a fair balance between your ideal types, bodywise. this plan went a little off script after the foreplay when you and patrick ended up exploring your exhibitionist sides, passionately kissing and languidly exploring each other's bodies while the hire slowly touched themselves at the sight. that precious hour or so was the easiest pay that person had ever made (you and patrick were far from unattractive), plus that champagne that you poured out was heavenly
patrick has you suck him off during skincare routines in the morning and evening, making sure to cum all down your throat. he insists it's good protein for you!! kneeling in front of the bathroom countertop has become second nature to you, the divine sight of your rugged lover above you routinely making you feel at ease
you had better be friends with his secretary jean because you'll see her a lot. if she gets jealous and her failed attempts at sleeping with him affect her capabilities, patrick will simply hire a different secretary. sure, he'll love to flaunt you and taunt them about how they aren't fucking either of you, but that's just part of his fun. he might use the empty threat of fucking you in front of the secretary as a way to keep you from acting out, but he's too possessive to have someone in a different tax bracket see you laid bare
get him spa day gift cards!! you can both spend time in private saunas or pools simply enjoying each other's presence and use the time to caress each other's bodies. use the opportunity to get a full body massage - when patrick has had a rough week, you're more than likely going to end up with a couple bruises and a few sore muscles
while he's never been the most domestic man, the image of you flitting back and forth in his pristine kitchen flicks a switch in patrick's brain. your earnest efforts of making him his breakfast bran muffins and churning his apple butter has him daydreaming of keeping you in his apartment like a pet - at his beck and call constantly, dusting his expensive furniture and preparing his meals whenever he comes home... not to mention how you'd willingly bend over or drop to your knees in a heartbeat if he so desired
if patrick is riding an adrenaline (or cocaine) high when he returns to you, be very careful and tread lightly. he may have an itch to clean his axe or handguns, polishing them until the late hours of the night. when he's in a jittery and frantic state, he isn't above having you spread out on his polished floor as something nice to look at while assembling the firearms, and he's certainly not against fucking you roughly while holding the gun to your head or body. he's even aroused by the though of you sucking off his uzi, spit-slicked metal knocking your teeth as your glistening eyes widen in fear
when you sleep next to him, he might jolt awake at night before realizing your shifting movements pose no threat to him, especially when you're locked into his arms with your soft breath brushing against his skin. when he gazes at you in these dimly lit moments, his mask slips until he feels a semblance of happiness - there's no discomfort, jealousy or boredom, he's content with you against him like this. after a long while of his breathing filling the dark room, his mind forces his walls back up and reverts him back to his usual self just as he drifts to sleep. no one can ever see him like that, see what your presence does to him... not even you
he has a penchant for fucking you infront of his toshiba 30-inch television, a porno tape or horror movie often playing. he loves the way screams - either of ecstasy or pain - fill his ears as you moan beneath him, the colours of the screen dancing on your skin. his cock always pulses just that little bit more whenever you bite his thumb and take his dick deep inside you as the film plays in the background. red is suck a sexual and raw colour after all, why not have the bright screen fill your vision as you cum on his cock? the vibrance drowns out all other stimuli, forcing you to focus on his presence in and around you
imagine the shock on evelyn's face when she shows up unannounced at patrick's place one late afternoon- he's swaying to heuy louis and the news, hands on your hips as you giggle and pour him a glass. his silk shirt loosely buttoned just covers your modesty as he soothingly rubs circles on your thigh, soft grin fading as his gaze frosts over at the sight of his betrothed. she sniffs, scandalized at the sight infront of her, and tells patrick to not bother contacting her - tim price's phone will be unplugged the moment she arrives at his place. to be honest, patrick could not care less. you're in his arms and he knows for a fact that evelyn will be over it soon - if not, there's a more suitable marriage candidate right in front of him. if you feel bad or guilty after evelyn leaves, patrick will do his best with his hands, thick cock, tongue and credit card to soothe your worries
expect patrick to leave desperate and vaguely threatening voice mail messages - his heavy, stuttered breaths echoing in your ears as the slick sounds in the background get you more and more worked up. the depraved ramblings deepen and get hoarser with each passing minute, so you'd better pray jean doesn't walk in - she isn't worthy of seeing him in such a disheveled and flushed state
_ _ _ _ _
amab hcs
luis is the most understanding of patrick's work bunch - he isn't shy to defend you and be seen in public as your friend, once you are comfortable telling him your secret of course. just make sure everyone knows you're not a part of that yale thing and you'll be fine
although he isn't keen on being open about his relationship with you - for fear of his colleagues and fellow acquaintances of wall street making derogatory comments towards him, or worse, you - majority of the men already have some closeted urge to spend the night with you, yearning to take bateman's place in your bed. let's face it, the cocaine, competition and firm handshakes can only do so much to hide the growing homoerotic tensions between the coworkers. your appeal is wider than you realise, as the compliments and lingering gazes at events would have most outsiders questioning if carruthers was the only gay man present in the social circle
in large social gatherings - such as big dinner parties or company events - patrick is able to hide his hand under the table and keep a poker face while unbuttoning your fly, untucking your shirt and slowly palming you for his own amusement. his bragging of designer clothing, company roles and mentions of a nice house he procured - for you to move into, of course - easily distract the other people on the table from what's happening in their vicinity
if his j&b on the rocks isn't hitting the spot or the cigars his colleagues are smoking feel heavy in his lungs, he'll drag you into the men's room - assuming there's no one in the other stalls, of course. his fly is halfway undone by the time your knees and expensive slacks hit the tiles, his hands mussing your slicked back hair. you'd better take his cock down your throat to the best of your abilities - you don't want an audience to witness you choking and spluttering on bateman's length, do you? of course not, they'll ostracize you in a heartbeat (or so patrick says), so you had better not complain or splutter when he pinches your nose shut and shoots hot ropes down your throat
whenever patrick fucks your ass, he ensures that his mark is left on your supple skin for days later - whether it be a handprint-shaped bruise, crescent nail marks or scratches along your thighs, he needs to have you remembering how well he fucks you. as you sit down, adjust your pants or even just accidentally back into something, patrick is suddenly at the forefront of your mind
_ _ _ _ _
afab hcs
patrick buys you the finest jewelry and nicest accessories that money can buy - the deal is that you give him handjobs with the sparkling rings on and kisses with the expensive lipstick, luxurious material framing your figure like a dream. he is especially a fan of you wearing jewels that match your eye colour or makeup - when he lifts your hand to press a polite kiss on your fingers, the glittering in your eyes matching his gifts makes his heart skip a beat
when you cockwarm him, his length is so hefty and makes you feel so stretched - the weight grounds you as you struggle to gain friction against your poor neglected clit. you always feel so full when you're perched on his lap, the girth enough to turn off your brain and make you drool. sometimes when patrick is feeling bold, he prepares your outfit for the day and ensures that you're wearing a cute little skirt for easy access :( he can be selfish sometimes, on the occasion that he solely thinks with his dick
patrick loves pushing your knees up to your chest as he fucks you deeply in missionary - the feeling of your swollen pussy lips brushing against his veiny base and your clit grinding against his pubic bone gets him more worked up than he'll ever admit
it's fairly normal to have patrick's hand drift towards your chest in the back of a taxi, his face buried in the crook of your neck. keep your noises quiet or the driver might be curious about what's happening in the backseat. his cold fingers harshly pinching and tugging at your nipples make you abruptly moan into the brisk air in the back of the car, patrick subtly palming himself to the tortured whines leaving your lips. if you make eye contact with the driver, mouth that you're sorry for patrick's behaviour and try to save your dignity by biting your lip to avoid any loud noises. if they make direct eye contact with patrick first, however, expect him to pull a smug grin and flash your breasts to the angled rear-view mirror. he might even hike up your skirts to show off your soaked, borderline see-through panties. sneak the poor driver a tip on your way out because he nearly caused an accident, losing all brain function as his blood immediately drained from his head and rushed to his cock :<
patrick buys you two little platinum charms with a necklace chain, his initials engraved on the back of the heart shaped pendant. the other little shape is an axe, the edge of the blade set with tiny red garnets!! he is main motivation for having you wear it constantly is the fact that it makes a small clinking noise as you bounce on his cock, breasts swaying and your glimmering skin making the necklace a truly beautiful sight to patrick
_ _ _ _ _
ftm hcs
patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his admiring hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(
if you're only just getting into wearing masculine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his man and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side
you're lucky his designer boxers are easy to clean! every time he catches sight of your muscles tensing, he's undoubtedly leaking into the material. when you're stretching and your shirt rides up, when you grab something from the top shelf or even when you crouch to tie your shoelace - his cock doesn't discriminate so you'd better expect a small, darkening patch. the musk at the end of the day has such a heady rush when you kneel in front of him, his sweaty underwear mere inches from your lips. patrick swears you give his dick a heartbeat whenever you make out with his bulge and especially when you sloppily give him head :3
bateman is a huge fan of quickies with you before meetings with your mutual colleagues - he's booked for lunch after, there's no other time in his schedule to empty his heavy, full balls into you :( his favourite way to spend those precious moments is with you bent over his polished desk, expensive pants crumpled at your ankles and your precum dripping onto the carpet. he is a massive fan of teasing you by pushing his cockhead into your slick boycunt and stroking his cock, edging his length until you're whimpering from the need to be filled. he mocks you for being needy and massages his balls when he finally fills your warm hole with thick, potent ropes of cum. he leaves you unsatisfied and leaking his load for the whole meeting :( splash your face with water and try not to squirm too much in your seat - patrick's classic shit-eating grin might give away the events that transpire mere moments before you both walked into the boardroom
mtf hcs
patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(
patrick keeps himself well put together and likes to treat you to manicures on shared days out. he'll ask his friend's girls for the best nail salon in the area and insists taking you. after he comes along to pick you up and pay after the set is finished, sometimes he'll immediately take your hands and hum his approval at the colour or design. other times, he'll give you his overcoat and hide your nails until you get in a private area, bathroom or the back of a car - the reveal of your new nails when you slowly stroke his cock, spit slicked hand glistening, makes his eyes roll back in pleasure. your heated gaze and slightly flushed face makes him grin, happy that you're willing to drool on his cock and flaunt his money proudly. the perfect girl, in his opinion :>
if you're only just getting into wearing feminine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his girl and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side
patrick's favourite evening activity is fucking you in a mating press - his cock filling you and hitting that deep spot inside you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he loves the sight of your girldick bouncing on your tummy and the shine of your dribbling arousal smearing on your skin. nothing beats a relaxed evening with your tight hole warming his throbbing length
_ _ _ _ _
thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.
stay safe.
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hanasnx · 16 days
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hip to be square.
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MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: themes similar to the movie | allusions to violence and murder | sexual content | sexism | fiancée!reader | dumbification | degradation | rough sex | anal play references | anal fisting reference | drug references | allusions to asphyxiation.
“You’ve worked up quite a sweat.” PATRICK BATEMAN notes in thinly veiled repulsion. Those cruel hands on your hips restrain themselves, and you can feel that tension against you. Instead, he pours his ample strength into yanking you back on him, choked sounds emit from your gaping mouth. In a way, this is an obligation, he can't really enjoy the way your cunt squeezes him, or how his thumbs fit those perfect back dimples—not in the way he wants to. If it were up to him, he'd squeeze the life out of you while he screwed those lifeless brains to pieces. Finally a bitch like you would be put to good use, eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen grows black dots in your vision. You'd claw at his grip around your neck, easing in to crushing your windpipe, the light would die as he watched, and he wouldn't even falter in his pace. Those hips would still be fucking you, like he is now.
Hard and rough, it hurts. Abusing your cervix as you're bent over the perfect white covers of his California King. You bounce on him like you want more, but in reality you're limp as he directs your body the way he wants it to move. An irrefutable force against you that you are powerless to soothe, unbeknownst to you your only line of defense to protect you from his wrath is the ring on your finger.
You're engaged to him.
In his eyes it was an unavoidable tragedy. All his friends are your friends, you live in his area, and you're a ten minute commute from work. If he's looking to blow off steam during lunch, he'll pop in for a visit and use you up with a pillow covering your head. You don't catch on to the fact he doesn't want to look at you while he ravages you, never question why he insists on hitting it from the back if he can help it. It aids that you've got a nice ass, plump and round and fits in his palms when he handles it. When you aren't being a priss, sometimes you'll let him slip a finger into your asshole. At one point he managed to convince you to let him fist you, but he'd slipped you one to many things that night, narrowly avoiding a messy emergency room visit. There was no way he was going to wait up for you in such a place so late at night. What would he have told everybody? That his fiancée was some junkie? Absolutely not.
Nails dig into your skin at the memory, the salt of sweat burning that raw that makes you mewl. He steels himself from demanding you shut up, instead assuaging the urge by smacking your hand away when you reach back to hold his in a petty attempt to get him to let up. Cruelly, he drills you. Those pathetic noises release in pain, you don't even sound human. "What are you to me?" he spits, looming over your little body as his every muscle contracts fucking into you at a reckless pace. You're sore from his weight, but you can't do a thing about it when being treated like shit never felt so good. A ring of cream foams at his base, taken from you as your cunt confuses punishment for desperation, your expression twisting so hard you'll get wrinkles early. He'll have to divorce you before that happens, otherwise people will think him vain. "Answer me, you idiot, you're supposed to answer me."
Somehow, you don't notice how he's talking to you. How it's different than the cold and distant nature you're accustomed to in public. "Nothing." you breathe out. "I'm nothing." You chase whatever you can get your hands on, scrambling for whatever stupid response you can muster in this state. Apparently, it pleases him, a sea of moans flowing out through his deep voice as he satiates himself using you like a sock with your name on it in his room.
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bluetintcore · 2 years
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nsfw alphabet ᥫ᭡ patrick bateman.
synopsis ˒ in which i walk you through the ropes of sex with our favorite psychopath!
pairings ˒ patrick bateman x fem!reader.
warnings ˒ SMUT; pure filth; mentions of murder; mentions of knife and blood play; mentions of bondage; mentions of cheating; mentions of an axe; i think that may be it!
word count ˒ 1,4k
note from me ˒ thats my leg btw ;) creds to gif owner!
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a = aftercare (what he’s like after sex)
first of all, he’s smart and he knows what women want. he knows that they want to be loved and treated after sex, so he’d do just that to keep you whipped. he’d run you a nice bath and he’d even join you if you wanted. he’d wash your hair and body and he’d press loving kisses to your neck while doing so. he’d even carry you back to bed.
b = body part (his favorite body part of his and yours)
patrick is a little overly cocky, he knows he’s attractive. so if we’re being honest he really doesn’t feel he has any flaws, but if he had to choose his favorite body part would probably be his arms. he loves how defined his muscles look, he often finds himself flexing into any mirror he comes in contact with. he’s obsessed with himself.
on you, it’d have to be your thighs. he’s a big thigh guys. he loves how smooth they are and how your muscles flex when you walk; never fails to make him yearn for you. while fucking you, his go to to grab would be your thighs so support him. your thighs are his main hype man ngl.
c = cum (anything to do with cum)
he really likes to cum inside you. he just thinks it’s so warm and comforting. but he’ll honestly cum anywhere you want him to. your face, your belly, thighs, etc. but his all time favorite is inside.
d = dirty secret (a dirty secret of his)
he has 1000% fantasized about murdering you mid sex. like he’d be fucking you and then out of nowhere he’d pull out an axe and go all psycho on you. of course, that’s a secret for a reason. you’d never know that.
e = experienced (how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?)
oh abso-fucking-lutely. this man is a total fucking womanizer. he knows exactly how to charm and hit all the right spots because he’s hit them many times before on other women.
f = favorite position (goes without saying)
surprisingly, he really enjoys missionary. he likes to look into your eyes so he knows he’s making you feel good; it’s something of a confidence booster for him. but he also really likes giving you back shots. however, he’d be open to trying any position.
g = goofy (is he more serious in the moment? humorous? etc.)
he’s serious. you would never catch this man cracking a joke during intimate times. in fact, if you even cracked a joke he’d probably look at you like you just said the most terrible thing. he doesn’t think sex should equal humor, and he prefers to be serious. and he would like it if you were serious too.
h = hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
i think even before he met you he’d be big on being completely shaved down there. having a ton of hair makes him feel dirty (not that it is). so 99.9% of the time he would keep himself completely smooth.
i = intimacy (how is he during the moment? is he romantic?)
he can be, if he really loved you. most of the time he prefers to keep his mouth shut BUT if you’re lucky he may call you beautiful and tell you how amazing you feel. but that’s on a good day.
j = jerk off (masturbation headcanon)
you know, i don’t see him being the biggest masturbator. if he was horny, he’d come to you. if you didn’t want sex, he’d find someone who did; it’s as simple as that. but don’t be sad, at least you were his first option!
k = kink (one or more of his kinks)
obviously bondage. he’d love having you tied up and helpless as he had his way with you. he’s also into knife play and blood, ironically. as said before, if you weren’t comfortable with this he wouldn’t force you; because he’d find someone else who would.
l = location (favorite places to do the do)
he’d be okay with anywhere in his apartment. his bed, his couch, as long as he’s comfortable he doesn’t really care. to be completely honest, i don’t even think he’d have sex anywhere other than his apartment. anytime the two of you go out it’s always “let’s go back to MY apartment”. guess he just feels more comfortable there.
m = motivation (what turns him on?)
you getting hit on by other men. obviously you can’t help that and he knows it, but it’s the feeling of one upping those men that want you. after all, he’s the one fucking you every night; not them. so anytime you two are out and about if you get hit on he immediately wants sex.
n = no (something he wouldn’t do)
be submissive. during sex he is ALWAYS the dominant one. i feel like being submissive would absolutely obliterate his ego and that would seriously fuck with his head. so, if you’re a switch sorry about your luck because you’re a soon to be permanent sub.
o = oral (preference on giving or receiving, skill, etc)
he prefers receiving but he would never dismiss going down on you. he’s amazing at it, too. however when going down on you he’d never let you finish, he’d have you so close but right before you cum he’d stop and say, “i still have to fuck you.”
p = pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
never in a million years would patrick bateman have slow and sensual sex. he doesn’t like sex if it isn’t his way and that’s rough and fast. MAYBE on your anniversary he’d be soft and sweet but probably not even then.
your relationship with patrick revolves around him let’s be real.
q = quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
they’re not his favorite. but since he doesn’t go outside of his apartment for sex, he’d never really have to worry about them.
r = risk (is he okay with experimenting? does he take risks?)
as long as it doesn’t completely beat up his ego, he’ll do it for you. it’s the least he can do. surprisingly, as much as he may fantasize about hurting you, he never actually would. he might try spanking, but that’s as far as he’d take it.
s = stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)
he can go about 5-6 rounds throughout the night, 3-5 on a bad day. he usually lasts about 25-30 minutes.
t = toys (does he own toys? how much does he use them? on you or him?)
i don’t really think he’d be a big toy guy, honestly. he’s all about you and him intimacy, not a toy. probably laugh in your face if you brought it up to him. he may use a vibrator on you, but that’d be it.
u = unfair (how much does he like to tease?)
he does tease you, but not for a very long time. he’ll tease you for the first few minutes of being intimate and then he’ll stop and just fuck you. mostly because i think he gets extremely needy too.
v = volume (how loud is he? what kind of noises does he make, etc.)
not a moaner at all. he’s too focused on what he’s doing to put effort into making noises. when he’d cum he’d let out a groan, but other than that he’s mostly silent other then loud pants.
w = wild card (random headcanon)
while he may not be the most vocal person during sex, he loves hearing you talk dirty to him. like tell him how good he feels and how nobody else could ever fuck you this good and he’d be absolutely over the moon. it always got him in a good mood and going.
x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
he’s BIG. he’s about 6 inches while he’s soft but 8 when he’s fully hard. it’s pretty thick too, and a long vein runs under the bottom and comes up just on the top of his shaft running over his tip. it’s pretty perfect ngl
y = yearning (how high is his sex drive?)
excruciatingly high. you’re always in constant pain because this man never gives you a break (with your consent ofc). he has to have sex with you at least once a day or he has a hard time functioning. so dramatic patty
z = zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards?)
he always waits until you fall asleep until he decides to go to bed. it’s kinda creepy, but you never asked about it. so after you go to bed, he’d follow right after you.
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aalyssah · 3 months
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I’ll Find You
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Pairing: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Angst and Mentions of Killing.
Word Count: 1,805
Summary: Patrick overhears you telling a friend about a guy who kept asking you out and even following you home, so Patrick gets rid of him, which causes you to run away.
A/N: This isn't a sad, heartbreaking angst, but there's no happy ending. Hope You Enjoy!
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It was 10:00 and your shift finally ended. You've been waiting all day to go home, and yes, you do love your job at the small coffee shop, but sometimes you're just ready to go.
You began cleaning up your area and putting everything back where they belonged. You were in the middle of stacking your cups when the sound of a clearing throat caught you.
You turned around to see your best friend, Kate. "Oh, hey Kate!" You greeted her, finishing up the cups. "You ready to go? We can walk home together." You nodded your head, untying your apron, and placing it on a hook. "Yeah, let's go." You grabbed your purse and walked out the building with Kate by your side.
You both walked side by side, talking about the types of customers you both had today. "Speaking of customers, who was the CUTE boy that came in, in the morning."
You thought back to all the people that came this morning and rolled your eyes once you figured out who she was talking about. "Oh, Ethan? Curly hair, brown eyes?" You asked, describing him.
Kate nodded her head eagerly. "Yeah! He was soooo into you. And he was totes flirting with you." Once again, you rolled your eyes at her. "He's nobody. He's just someone who came in and thought I was beautiful, and tried to get with me, but I rejected him."
Kate frowned. "I would feel bad for him cause he's cute, but he's gotta know who you're dating, right? Everyone knows!" She exclaimed the last part, and that's because everyone did know.
Patrick was one to show you off to any and everyone, making sure everyone knew who you belonged to and vice versa.
"I know, and I told him that! I told him that I was taken by Patrick Bateman, and guess what? He said he didn't care." Kate's mouth dropped open.
No one would dare say anything like that when talking about Patrick.
"What?" You nodded your head agreeing. "Yep, I kept telling him, but obviously he hasn't stopped. This has been going on for about 2 weeks now, but what he did the other day actually freaked me out so much."
Kate grew worried, hearing the slight tremble in your voice. She looked at you and saw how your attitude completely changed. "Hey, let's sit down for a sec." You followed her to a nearby bench, taking a seat.
Kate held your hand. "Talk to me. What did he do? He didn't hurt you, did he?" You quickly spoke up. "No! God no, I would never let him do that, but the other night when I was walking home from work, I thought someone was following me." You gulped.
Kate's eyebrows were furrowed down. "Following you? Did you see who it was?" You shakily replied, "Ethan. I knew it was him. He was wearing the same hoodie that he wore when he came to ask me out that morning. He was following me home, but I went into a grocery store, and luckily there was a lot of people, so I could escape without him seeing me, but that scared me a lot."
Kate looked angry, but sad. She couldn't believe what you were going through. "Did you tell Patrick? I'm sure he would-" You quickly cut her off. "No! I can't, he'll—I don't know what he will do." You sighed out.
This was too much on you so you stood up on shaky legs. "It's okay. Just, let's not talk about this anymore. I'm getting kinda tired." Kate gave you one last look and started walking with you.
She knew she couldn't say anything that would change your mind. You both continued to walk home until you reached your apartment complex.
You both gave each other a hug and off you went into Patrick's apartment. You opened the door with a sigh, placing your keys in a dish bowl and hanging up your jacket.
“Patrick, I'm home!" You called out expecting him to come around the corner with a cocky smile on his face, but it was silent. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Usually he's always at the door waiting for you, but today was different. "Pat?" You called out once more. You walked around the corner in the kitchen just to see Patrick leaning over the counter. “Patrick, I've been calling you!" You lightly scolded him.
He finally stood up tall, turning around revealing the tall bottle of scotch-whiskey. He was drinking straight out the bottle. "Patrick, why are you drinking whisk-" You stopped talking when Patrick looked at you with mad eyes.
"Please don't start tonight. Let's just go to bed." He simply replied, but you still tried to ask him. "Why in a rush? I just wanna know-” Just with you beginning to talk again had him mad.
He quickly slammed his hands against the island counter, yelling, “Damn it Y/n, I said let’s go to bed!” You jumped at his sudden outburst. You were quiet as you made your way to your shared room and changed into your pajamas.
As you both slid into bed Patrick pulled you close to his body, forcing you against him as if nothing just happened.
He was so tense, but why?
-
It was the next day and when you woke up Patrick was nice again. He even woke you up to a little surprise under the blanket, but all good things must come to an end, meaning you had to get up to go to work.
You left Patrick with a kiss, but before he left he said something that threw you off.
“Don’t expect a certain customer today. He’ll be gone.”
You were confused for only a second, but brushed it off not understanding what he was talking about.
All day you went to work, working like normal. Everything seemed normal, too normal. It was until the end of your shift when you realized you didn’t see a familiar face all day.
You were now walking home with Kate again, Kate scrolling on her phone as you thought about Ethan. “Y’know Ethan never came by today.” Kate hummed. “Feels kinda weird. I guess I got used to him.”
Kate looked at you smiling. “What, do you like him or something.” You awkwardly laughed. “Hell no. It’s just weird that he wasn’t here today. Hope he’s okay.” Kate dropped the conversation, once y’all got to the apartment complex. “See you tomorrow.” You both said your goodbyes and up to your apartment you went.
This time when you walked through the door Patrick was on the couch drinking some water. He looked back at you and smiled. “Baby! How was work?” You let out a sigh. “ Exhausting, I’m so ready to lay down.”
Patrick chuckled, patting a spot next to him. “Come sit. Let’s watch the news.” You didn’t question him, slipping your shoes and jacket off before making your way to him.
You watched the news for a little bit, listening to the Weatherman tell y’all about the weather for the week. You got up, going to the kitchen to look for a snack when you heard the news.
“Another topic of the day, a man named Ethan Jones has been found in an alleyway near a small coffee shop. Police said he was killed with 27 stab wounds with a knife and a carving of the letter ‘P’ on his balls…”
After hearing the opening of the story you took a quick peek at the TV and to your surprise, it was Ethan’s face. The same boy that flirts with you daily at the shop.
“Oh my god, Ethan!” You yelled, giving your full attention to the TV screen. You looked at Patrick for a second only to see him looking at you, but with a smirk on his face? “Patrick, why are you looking at me like that?” You asked him.
You studied his eyes for a couple of seconds and that’s when a suspicion hit you. “Patrick, did you-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head.
There’s no way he knows about Ethan, you didn’t tell him and Kate sure as hell didn’t either. “What, kill him? If that’s what you’re asking then yeah. Yeah I did.” Your eyes grew wide when you took in his words.
You took a step back, feeling a little unsafe at his confession. “Patrick, are you joking because this isn’t the time to be joking.”
Patrick lowly chuckled, standing up from the couch, and walking towards you. “Why would I lie about murdering someone? Especially when they mess with my girl, and even follow her home.” You let out a small gasp hearing him.
How did he know?
“H-How did you know?” You meekly asked. “Got a small camera in your jacket. I can hear and see everything.” You looked over at your jacket on the coat hanger. Now everything made sense.
He was listening to the story you told Kate that night, and it was smart too because he knows that’s the only jacket you can wear to work.
You looked up at Patrick with no words to say, just too stunned. A quick idea came to mind. You don’t wanna be with a killer, who knows what he’ll do to you?
You looked around the apartment for a quick second, planning a distraction. “Okay, well how about this. You go pour us some wine and we can watch a marathon of scary movies as a celebration to no more Ethan!” A smile came to Patrick’s face at your suggestion.
Patrick didn’t say another word as he went to the kitchen and began getting wine glasses and a bottle of your finest wine out. You took the opportunity of a distracted Patrick to make a run for it.
You quickly turned around, fumbling with the door knob. Patrick instantly picked up on the sound of the knob jiggling and turned the corner to see you opening the door.
He made quick moves, running to you and attempting to grab your shirt collar, but it was too late. You were already taking off near the exit and down the stairs.
Patrick knew he couldn’t go after you, and all he could do was fall to his knees with a cry. “Y/n, please come back!” He cried loudly, not caring if his neighbors were sleeping.
His cries echoed around the hallway until he got up wiping his nose. “I’ll come for you, I swear I’ll find you and make you mine again. And you’ll never run away from me again.” He spoke deeply under his breath, going back in his apartment room and planning on his way to get you back.
No matter who he’ll kill, you’ll end up back in his arms.
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batemansluvrr · 10 months
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— 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑬𝑹 𝑫𝑨𝒀𝑺
A/N: Here’s the one-shot, as I said before I’m really sorry for my absence. I didn’t have time to proofread this so, if there are grammar mistakes you know. Enjoy your reading.
Warnings: PLEASE READ! Alcohol addicted reader, cigarettes addicted reader, very demotivated reader, swearing.
Contains: Dark themes at first (Alcohol and Nicotine addiction), but then turns into fluff, Patrick comforts reader and reassures her, smut part at the end but the bare minimum.
Synopsis: When you found out that Patrick has spent the rest of the night with Courtney right after finishing arguing with you, you couldn’t do nothing but soffocate your pain in alcohol and cigarettes.
Word count: 1.5k+
The warmth of the water covered you and you felt.. safe. The warm water hugged your body and it brought back some of the joy you felt when you were with Patrick. Your sadness was still there, deep inside of you, but you weren’t overwhelmed by it. The water was comforting, warm, and peaceful. You closed your eyes and you let your mind drift, you let the past drift away. You let yourself think about Patrick, and all of the fun and happy moments you had together. You missed him, but that was okay.. because.. the water was peaceful.
Or maybe it simply wasn’t the water, but the bottle of whiskey you drank in one sip. The feeling was almost instantaneous, the feeling of joy and relief washed over you. The whiskey was strong, but it was almost a good kind of strong. That was how it feels to be in heaven, and you took all of it you could before the feelings started to fade away. But for the moment it was blissful, your mind was filled with peace and your body.. well, it felt alive. It was perfect and you wanted to keep it. To just hold on to it forever. You drank more, more, more, until you began to feel numb. You couldn’t feel anything. You felt nothing. You felt numb, and the feeling was glorious. Alcohol was always there for you, it didn’t judge you and it wouldn’t never run away. Alcohol was your companion, your friend, your lover, your escape. You drank and you drank and you drank, you couldn’t stop, you wouldn’t have stopped yourself. That was better than feeling anything right? And besides.. When you were with the booze you didn’t feel so alone.
Did you?
The numerous knocks on the door woke you up to reality, opening your eyes. You still didn’t want to see anyone though, that was one of the few moments you had to feel relaxed and you wouldn’t let no one interrupt it.
But you didn’t know that the one at the door was the one you never wanted to see again. Patrick stood at the door, his face filled with rage. He was angry, you didn’t answer his texts and didn’t even call him, he was gone completely crazy and he was trying to make it clear how angry he was. The anger was apparent in his voice, the look in his eyes, the way he stood. He was not happy, not happy at all. He was mad and he wanted your attention, but he didn’t want to force himself inside of your apartment. Instead, he banged on the door and screamed your name. Once you realised it was him, you pretended to not hear him and also pretended to listen to the random music that was playing on tv. Patrick was frustrated and angry, and he wanted a response. He kept standing there, waiting and waiting, he knew that you were in there but he didn’t want to be in that awkward position. "Why weren’t you answering the door? Was it something he said, did he do something to make you angry?" He kept asking himself, but he didn’t know, and he was standing there with an annoyed expression as he waited.
Patrick pounded on the door again, he didn’t care if the neighbors heard him, or if the people in other apartments noticed. He wanted a response, and he was going to keep demanding it. He was standing there with a scowl on his face, clearly frustrated by the whole situation, but he didn’t want to do anything violent. Not for the first five minutes. When you kept drinking, ignoring him completely, Patrick got fed up and he kicked the door in, his eyes filled with rage. He was standing there and with one swift kick, the door flied open and he stood there in the doorway.
"ANSWER ME!" He shouted, the walls rattling under the force of his scream. He looked for you in every single room of your apartment and once he found you in the bathtub, he became even more mad at you. Patrick watched as you ignored his screams and his cries. He didn’t want to yell anymore, but his hands shook with frustration and he was filled with rage, there was fire boiling in his eyes. Patrick just wanted to grab you, to scream at you, to make you understand how angry he was. He wanted to make you understand how much pain you caused him. He wanted to teach you a lesson, and he stomped over to the bathroom and tried to rip the bottle out from your hands. But then, he realised everything. You were hurting yourself, your own soul, that he always used to call "innocent". It was not innocent anymore. The bathtub was full alcoholics and cigarette packs, and the thing that horrified him even more, was that the most of the bottles and packs were already empty or consumed. "You are hurting yourself." Patrick shouted, his voice filled with pain and anger. He couldn’t stand to watch this, to watch you do this to yourself. "You can't keep hurting yourself like this, it has to stop." His eyes wet with pain and his jaw clenched tightly.
"Patrick, go away." After saying the last word you finally decided to met his glance, but the sparkle in your eyes that Patrick always adored wasn’t there anymore. You weren’t capable of feeling a single emotion, or maybe, you refused to feel them. "You're hurting yourself, y/n." Patrick repeated, a little more irritated than before. He looked at you and saw how much pain you were in. How much suffering. He kept watching you, his eyes filled with anger and pain. He wanted you to stop, he needed you to just stop, he couldn’t see you like this. "If you don't stop now, we're done, do you hear me?" He said sternly, Patrick was furious. "You deserve fucking better than this."
Patrick watched as you were smoking a cigarette before taking a long sip of another alcoholic bottle. He knew that he should have done something, and yet he stood there frozen in place. Patrick also knew these thoughts were irrational, but his mind was plagued by them. When he saw you falling into the bath tub, it snaps him out of it. He rushed over and made you stood up in front of his tall figure. The anger and frustration were still pulsing in his veins but he knew that his furious tone wasn’t going to solve anything, he knew that yelling wouldn’t help. Instead he washes you gently, he was caressing your delicate frame with a sponge looking at you as if was trying to decode your reaction. You tried to not look at him as he was washing every single part of your body, even your most intimate zones, but it was different, he wasn’t excited or something, he seemed to care about you, and in fact, he did. He wrapped a towel around your body and then he helped you get out of the tub and walk over towards the bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him as he was exactly in front of you, lowering to your height. "Just tell me why did you do this." Patrick demanded staring at you. Your mouth realised a sigh and your eyes were captured by the floor as you began to speak.
"I saw you with Courtney, that night, after we argued." He immediately stood up right after you admitted that. His eyes widened. "You didn’t think that we had sex, right?" Patrick asked you, hoping that your answer would have been a no. He passed a hand through his hair when you stayed in silence, he was trying to remain calm because he clearly couldn’t believe that.
"Christ y/n, Courtney was drunk. She didn’t want Luis to see her in that state so I told her she could stay at my apartment, even though I was really pissed off." You were still a little shocked but deep inside, a part of you was full of joy and fully reassured by his words. "You two didn’t have sex?" You asked, just to be sure.
"No doll, of course not. I would never." Patrick was smirking, tickling your soft skin of your legs with his long fingers. "Can't believe you really thought I cheated on you.." With the other hand he started touching your hair, you wanted that moment to last forever. He kept that clever smile on his face that intrigued you more, but then, his glance moved to your seductive lips and Patrick realised he couldn’t resist anymore. After almost a second your lips were connected, his tongue exploring your mouth while your hands were constantly searching something to grab for support. He pulled away slightly, and leaved a trail of wet kisses on your neck. Patrick whispered in your ear, the words came out in a breathy way that was full of love and excitement at the same time. "I can make you forget everything, I’ll make sure you forget everything." He kissed you again.
"..I'll make you a happy woman."
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ransprang · 9 months
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Christian Bale (OOC) x Fem!Reader
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Y/N and Christian Bale had recently gotten married, and her parents hated that. Christian and Y/N had been super clingy, and, to be honest, they felt he was a bit controlling. He would often ask her to do something, and Y/N would simply comply. Christian and she slept while hugging each other with their noses touching, and it turned out she couldn't sleep without him at all. To the extent that Y/N's parents noticed, the two would get upset even when leaving each other alone for a few hours. Her parents weren't sure, but maybe the main problem was that they were scared he would hurt her.
Recently they all had been invited to a party and y/n was super excited to go. Christian went out to buy her a sexy yet elegant dress of his choice that would make his beautiful wife glow. He gifted her the dress and y/n's eyes sparkled. She tipped toed up to kiss him and Christian wrapped his arms around her, as she melted into them. He deepened the kiss and groaned into her mouth as y/n pushed her chest against him. Christian looked at the clock and decided they both could be late...by alot. He pushed her onto the bed and got on top, he always loved being on top and restraining his little girl. Y/n moaned and tried to push against him but his sheer power turned her on. Y/n wrapped her legs around Christian's waist as he unzipped his pants and letting his thick pink cock free. He rubbed the tip before he slid it into y/n entrance. He began thrusting and as he caught speed he put his veiny hand over y/n neck and said "Say my name", but y/n moaned. He tightened his grip at her defiance, gritted his teeth as he pounded harder "say my name.", y/n looked at him "Christ...Christian". He loosened his grip and caressed her hair as he softened his thrusts "good girl, I like it when you listen to me". Y/n smiles back at him and closes her eyes in pleasure as she could feel his dick inside her as her husbands big arms held her down into place. As Christian neared climax he grunted and laid on top of y/n softly sliding in and out as they both laid chest to chest while he kissed his wife while releasing his warm cum inside of her. Y/n's parents happened to be invited too, as they waited out in the hall for their son in law and daughter to come with them they grew more and more agitated. They were already 30 minutes late, how could Christian be this irresponsible. Suddenly the room's door opened and both of them walked out, y/n was a bit nervous. Christian looks at her and said "head up high for me.." as y/n nodded and walked towards the front gate with pride. The drive was long and quiet as Christian sat with her in the back seat and caressed her hair, she was prettier to him than the view. She was his everything.
The party was lavish with many people, y/n separated from her husband to speak to other people. A while later a smaller group of people formed and a beautiful blonde woman with blue eyes, with the body of Pamela Anderson stood across and remarked "Chris, wanna have sex?", Christian looked visibly confused as y/n ears perked up. "I mean come on you're hot I am hot, lets do it. No one here will tell your silly little wife, I bet she's ugly". Everyone quickly realized that she did not know y/n was his wife and standing right next to her. Y/n's eyes were welling up but she held it together, Christian was visibly enraged with his hands in a fist. "Keep your filthy mouth shut." He said through his teeth, she looked a bit scared but nonchalant "oh please don't get worked up about this you know if you were unmarried you would've done me in seconds". When it came to y/n Christian knew no ethics he lunged forward to hit that woman, as a few of their mutual friends held him back in urgency. Y/n sprinted towards him and held his face "Christian look at me, you're not like this. you're better than this. Lets go". he calmed down at the sight of y/n and let it go instantly.
Christian held her hand tightly and stormed off towards the car holding onto the keys y/n's parents had passed to him. As they walked towards the door, her parents gave him a nasty look which said 'I knew you'd hurt our daughter one way or the other'. Christian disregarded it and as they reached the car opened the door to the back seat and rather aggressively pushed y/n in. He sat next to her and closed the door as he held her by the back of her head and kissed her passionately. He deepened it while pulling her closer and getting on top of her. "y/n let me make love to you", y/n hugged him tightly digging her nails into his back. "I love you Christian" as he made love to her and then calmly waited for her parents to say their goodbyes and drive them back home. She was his and he was hers and no one was to come in between them. Your Batman,
Admin Sav
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First time - Multimuse x Fem!Reader
Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader
Warnings: nsfw, dom/sub dynamic, sort of ddlg? No non con, but reader begging to slow down bc overstim, mmm i dunno.
Type: blurp
Request: N/A
Word Count: N/A
Prompt: No prompt, just smut abt when or how reader came to call the muse “Daddy” for the first time.
Notes: I mainly just kind of included muses I would think to be the more dominant ones, at least ones that I could write easily for. Maybe I’ll make another one, idk. So sorry if your fav didn’t make the cut ily.
Michael Myers: Honestly what else was there to call him. As soon as you saw him, the way he towered over you as you looked up to him helplessly. It was no different from when he was tangling his mangled fingers into your scalp, gripping whatever amount of hair he could. Looking down to you through the holes of his mask as you felt him deeper you could almost swear you were going to split. “Daddy.” You repeated like a prayer as he’d hit the right spot, feeling your legs flinch deliciously as your folds clenched around him. Even after creaming all over him, you repeating his new nickname would only cause him to pin you down to the floorboards even if you’re screaming and begging him to slow down because you were overstimulated. Michael would be absolutely feral.
Billy Loomis: Kind of has a softer approach, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be any less torturous. It’s almost like he’s trying to get it out of you. Billy knew when he lusted for you across the classroom that he’d have you in a puddle of your own arousal in no time. Bonus points if you’re shy. He’d be gentle at first, running his finger tips all across your tender spots, watching you intensely, so much so it makes you kind of uneasy at first. Still, to be sitting on a picnic table, exposed to him as you were, there was something so hot about it. When his fingertips plunge into you after almost a half hour of sloppy wet kisses, you were stunned at the self control he managed to have. After a few pumps he traces your arousal around the outer parts of your folds, with a devilish smile when he notices your pout. “Daddy please” You beg, your hand gripping onto his wrist. Something in him flicks, he has you exactly where he wants you. “Please what kitten?”
Patrick Bateman: He’s used to making all the calls, you always trusted that he knew best. Sometimes it felt like Patrick liked to make all the shots more than he lead on, but that didn’t mean he didn’t annoy you at times. “Don’t forget we have that dinner reservation at 7. I don’t like to eat much later than that, it messes with my schedule.” He’d call out from across the room as he worked on his button up. Rolling your eyes as you were trying to make your makeup work. “Yes daddy.” It takes him a second to register before you feel him behind you, his hand wrapping around the front of your throat. He didn’t understand what came over him, but all he knew was that if he wanted to see you pout, he wanted it to be because he was making you hold back your orgasm. Grabbing you by your throat and pulling you back against his chest, his free hand would make of your panties. “What a fucking brat.” He’d mumble into the side of your head as he’d expose you in front of the mirror you were getting ready before.
Poison Ivy: Calling her daddy probably wouldn’t be the best idea, but she would know what you meant. Sometimes it would just slip out and she understood. Ivy would even use it as an excuse to prolong your orgasm. “Daddy, please, I can’t” You’d cry out as you clenched for the fourth time in a row, afraid you had nothing left in you. Lifting your head to see Ivy’s lustful smile as you came undone so pretty, you knew she wasn’t stopping any time soon. “Oh baby, when will you learn that’s not my name.” She’d hush into your neck as her tongue would make work of your sensitive spots. Her free hand would plunge into your open cry-filled mouth to muffle your moans of the nickname. That’s the only time she didn’t want to hear it, but she can’t help but keep you riding your waves of pleasure.
Steve Rogers: He’s already kind of a kinky boy, as soon as he saw you, he was fantasying of you in a short skirt and over the knee socks, picking you up and pounding mercilessly into you as you screamed for him that it was too much, but you both knew it felt too good to stop. It wouldn’t be long for you to find yourself in that position. Steve’s super serum made it all the easier to pick you up effortlessly to keep you from squirming away as you felt his dick plunge deeper into you causing your eyes to roll back into your head. “Daddy, okay- Please-” You’d cry out, not knowing what you wanted, just knowing all you knew was Steve. With every thrust, he just became more unhinged, then when he felt your folds clench around him as you squirted all over him, seeing your eyes fumble out tears, you both knew “Steve” was no longer his name to you.
Bucky Barnes: Kind of similar to Steve, but not so much. He’s a tiny bit more gentle. Bucky would rather have you coming undone onto him, watching your eyes beg for him to keep going, hitting that spot his fingers graze when they curl a certain way. Seeing you clench your nails into his arm as you cream for the third time and whimper out “Daddy” with swollen lips and tear-filled eyes, not looking away from him. “Come on baby, another one for daddy, you know I love your pretty pies” Dirty words would flow effortlessly from his lips, he’d leave so many pretty marks on your neck as you whined out his new nickname.
Loki Laufeyson: He’d catch you in a vulnerable position, mainly focused on making you orgasm. “What is it sweetheart? Like that?” He’d almost mock as you nod, indicating his fingers were helping you. “Sorry what was that?” He’d ask, frowning as he’d look to meet your eyes, when you wouldn’t, he’d take his hands from your core, causing you to whine. “No, daddy, please I need it.” You’d beg, grabbing onto his wrists and pulling him back to where he was. Any other time this would be unacceptable, but he wanted to see you undone so bad. More than that, he wanted to hear you again, so he’d work with his fingers, then remove them, or slow down only to hear you whimper out “Daddy-” Your frustration causing you to meet his eyes, almost angry “I wanna cum on your hands.”
Cloud Strife: By no means would it be intentional, but when he’s pounding into you, your face digging into the mattress as his head is hitting your g spot, you couldn’t help but whine out “Daddy, like- like that” Which only makes him grab your hips and bring them closer to his, digging his dick further into you. He must be doing something right if you’re breathlessly crying out. Not to mention, he’d take it as praise and I would infer that he has a praise kink. When you wouldn’t moan any more, he’d grab a fistful of your hair and bring you back up to him “Do I stop?” He’d tease as his face met your damp cheek.
Bruce Wayne: You’d be begging to get his attention, crawling onto his lap, usually you weren’t this demanding, but you yearned to feel his warm hands on your body, it didn’t matter where. He put up less of a fight, you both knew climbing onto his lap or trying to get his attention while he was investigating was a big no no. Somehow you felt like maybe he wanted you to keep going too. You felt your sensitive spot graze onto his lap as you pulled yourself closer to him. “Daddy, please I wanna play.” You mumbled out, not knowing what his reaction would be, then feeling an abrupt shift, his hands landing onto your hips, planting you onto his bulge. You saw the twinkle in his eye, not knowing where it really came from until he’s pushing his dick as far as your fold would let him, bent over his desk in the bat cave “thought baby wanted to play?” He’d mumble to you as he’d pull your hair all together in a fist to pull you back by.
Jason Todd: Honestly, just meeting him and you kind of knew that was him. It was when you were giving him the silent treatment that he pulled you onto his lap, holding you still against his growing bulge “What’s wrong bunny?” He’d mumble as he would try to find your eyes. This being your first time being handled by him, you felt your center puddle, then throb when you felt your sensitive parts grind so gently against his bulge. Pursing your bottom lip, you found the courage to look him in the eyes only to see his lips curl into a smile. Jason would nonchalantly rock your hips back and forth on his lap, acting as if he was still trying to get an answer out of you. “Did I do something?” He’d ask as if he didn’t know what he was doing. “Daddy please-” You’d surrender, pleading to feel anything else but your arousal stain your clothes.
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multific · 2 years
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Protective Father
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Patrick Bateman x Reader
Summary: Patrick was always extremely protective of you, you thought that was too much, then you gave birth.
A/N: This is a little follow-up to my headcanons, requested by a lovely person. 
“I’d kill anyone who even dares to look at the two of you in a bad way.” he confessed one night as the two of you were on the couch, his hand on your stomach. You read a book as he spoke to your baby.
“Aww! Patrick, thank you.” you fully knew he was serious but there was a spark in his eyes that you loved and so you kissed him.
When your son learned how to walk is when the real struggle began for Patrick.
He was on the heels of the baby all the time, even protecting him from flies. Before he could walk, Patrick would carry him everywhere. Barely letting him go for a moment.
When your son learned how to run is when the ultimate struggle began for Patrick.
You try to tell him that it was OK, that your son is going to be fine, nothing can hurt him but you also know your husband and you knew that he was not going to stop just because you asked him nicely once.
So just as your little boy started to grow so did your husband's worries and slowly but surely he became overprotective.
There were times even when you were at the park just taking a simple walk letting your baby run and play around, one time, he fell off of a swing which worried Patrick so incredibly that you have never seen him panic more than that day. But the icing on the cake was that your son wasn't even hurt, he just cried a little because he got scared but he was perfectly fine he even got ice cream after it.
But you will never forget the panic in Patrick when he ran as fast as he could to his son to help him up.
Even if little Richard wasn't hurt, Patrick couldn't let it go, he wanted to be 100% sure his son wasn't hurt and that he had everything he needed.
You often saw this as spoiling him, you didn't want your son to become a brat, but you understood where Patrick was coming from, the little boy was too precious. 
And this is exactly what you expected from Patrick Bateman himself.
A father who spoils their child. 
You had your baby on your hip, he was super interested in you cooking dinner, so he was your little helper.
Although mostly he just asked for juice or to taste something, with Richard being five, you wanted to show him the world as much as possible. And he seemed to be very interested in cooking and baking.
You put him on the counter when you needed to cut something. You taught him not to touch anything on the oven, you taught him it would hurt and he was an intelligent little man, so he never even tried.
"What are you two doing?" asked Patrick behind you.
"Dinner." you said as you stirred the pot, out of the corner of your eye you noticed Patrick pulling your son just a bit further away from the stove. You wanted to roll your eyes but you only smiled as you looked at them. "I'm almost ready, can you set the table please?"
And surely they did. You turned off the stove when you heard your son whine.
"Richard, let me do it, you might hurt yourself." you heard Patrick before you pocked your head out and saw your son with the forks in his tiny hand, holding on for dear life.
"I wanna." he said and you wanted to laugh, but you also wanted to see how Patrick will handle this.
He let out a long sigh. "You will hurt yourself, let Daddy do this."
"No." he was just as stubborn as your husband. Tiny knuckles turning white as he held the forks as if his life depended on them. 
"Okay, then let's do it together?" Patrick ended up offering since he knew he wouldn't get through to Richard.
You smiled at the cute scene as Patrick lifted his son and helped him, trying to teach him a little about where and how to place utensils, but all little Richie saw was the cute Mickey Mouse utensil set you bought him.
You wanted to laugh, no matter how stubborn your husband was, your son was the same if not worse.
Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead​ feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
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makeyoumine69 · 7 months
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Clingy!Patrick Bateman x Insecure!Fem!Reader | NSFW HEADCANON
— A/N: This is the winner of my poll about headcanons, you can leave comments about what headcanons you want me to do in the future, hope you like this one!
— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓
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Being Bateman's lover was not easy at all — the constant attention, the greedy looks and flirtatious smiles from everyone who saw him actually made you sad, even insecure.
And Patrick knew that, and he didn't really like it, so no matter where you were — at his or your family's house, at some random party or dinner — his strong hands were always on you, stroking your back, squeezing your hips and groping your ass. Sometimes he'd even get his hands on your breasts, and you'd squeal with surprise and embarrassment, but Bateman would just chuckle and try to play with your nipples through the fabric of whatever you were wearing, especially if you didn't have a bra.
If you ever told him that you were insecure or even afraid that he was having an affair, it would certainly boost his ego and he couldn't help but laugh at your worries, while the sadness and pain would tear him apart from the inside because of how many times he had told you that he had his eyes only on you.
Your anxiety would only encourage him to be more overprotective and intimate with you, even though Patrick never liked the intense physical contact during sex, he would let you hold him tight as he fucked you senseless. He would let you pull on his silky hair while he devoured your soaped pussy, moaning as you grinded against his face. Marking would become his favorite kink, after each passionate love session he would admire the result of his work, tracing his fingers along his bite marks. It would hurt but you could take it because you were his good girl.
Even one mention of another woman — Jean, Evelyn or Courtney — would be enough for him to bend you over the back of his white couch, pull up your skirt and give you several hard slaps on your butt.
"Mhm! Pat-Patrick!" You moaned as you felt his long fingers work between your legs, smearing your wetness along your delicate petals.
"Have I told you how much I hate it when you say things like that?" Bateman growled into your ear after kissing the length of your neck. "Have I told you that, brat?"
"Yes," your voice trembled with the excitement of his firm hips rubbing vigorously against your dripping cunt. "I'm sorry, Daddy!" You whimpered, trying to get up, but he pushed you back, pressing your face against the couch and grabbing your throat.
"No, no, no, little one. You're not going anywhere until I say so." 
With that, Bateman would undo his pants with ease, grunting from how painfully hard he was — his throbbing dick would pop out of his expensive underwear, and he wouldn't care to prepare you properly after your bad behavior.
Savagely, Patrick would thrust into your little hole up to his heavy balls, burying his digits in your soft skin and closing his eyes from the blissful sensation of your hot, soaked pussy.
"F-fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart," he hissed and gave another long stroke, reveling in your lewd sounds as you tried your best not to cum here and now — you didn't want to feed his ego any more, because this bastard was arrogant enough. "Mmmm, I'm gonna fuck all those stupid thoughts out of your head!"
His low panting echoed in your voice like a hypnotic melody, and the only thing you could do was to bend even lower and spread your legs for him as he railed you hard, spanking your ass and yanking your hair. 
Bateman always kept his word and maybe one day you would finally believe you were his only one, yet sometimes Patrick thought you were doing it on purpose as you just loved being fucked like a whore.
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P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!
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whereireid · 1 year
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𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 | masterlist
pairing: patrick bateman x fem!reader
— warnings: nsfw content ! bondage, rope, ptrick bateman, p in v, mentions of murderous urges
summary: There's a thin line between pleasure and pain. Patrick lets you walk that line — if anyone else did, it would snap.
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"Do you like it?”
Patrick’s voice is sultry, calm; a lewd illusion of the man he is, the desire which consumes him. Being bound to his bed with rope is surreal - you squirm under his cool touch, trying to hide the discomfort which pulsates through you.
“It’s different.” Your voice is hoarse, but you’re honest, and Patrick grins in response. “It feels too tight.”
“I could’ve made it tighter.” Patrick's breath fans your neck, and you’re suddenly more aware of how out-of-place he looks. Whilst you’re naked, splayed in front of him ready to be devoured, he’s fully dressed in a Valentino, classic charcoal, pinstriped double-breasted suit. His suited arms reach up towards your bound wrists, and your eyes flitter shut as you imagine what he would look like naked - how his arms would flex as he loosens the rope slightly. “What do you say?”
“Thank you, Patrick.”
His hum of approval vibrates through you, as his fingers dart over your thighs, before slowly trailing toward your cunt. “I want to do terrible things to you. Do you know that? I want to—“ Patrick’s fingers shake slightly and his voice wavers, his digits darting over your slits and finding a home in your cunt. “—I want to ruin you.”
“But you won’t.” Your eyes squeeze shut as his fingers curl inside you, his hand growing slick with your wetness. Satisfied squelches echo across his bedroom, and your stomach tightens with each come hither motion of his fingers.
“But I won’t.” Patrick agrees, letting out a shaky breath that jitters against your neck. “Because when I start ruining you, I’m not going to be able to stop. I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll wish you were dead and maybe at the end of it all, you would be.”
“So I’m spared,” you breathe, a broken mewl slipping past your lips as Patrick’s fingers effortlessly flicker you closer and closer to an orgasm. There is an imaginary coil inside of you, and it feels as though it is going to snap - the ever-growing pressure on the special spot inside of your cunt is constant, and his motions are consistent, specialized. “You’ll spare me?”
“I’ll do more than spare you. I’m going to fuck you like I love you and maybe I do, but then again, maybe I don’t.”
The crassness of his voice, the harshness of his words, and the overwhelming stimulant of his fingers fucking you so good is what sends you over the edge. The coil snaps - breaks in half, sending shockwaves of electricity pulsing through you, your legs shaking as Patrick continues to toy with your cunt, a bored expression on his face.
“My suit is drenched in your cum.” Patrick comments, slathering your wet against your thighs and stomach, crinkling his nose as he gently begins to undress himself. “Remind me to take this to the dry-cleaners, later.”
The conversation is so… nonchalant, so familiar. He talks to you like he’d talk to a lover - but are you his partner or just his plaything? Cold engulfs you and you shiver, but Patrick tuts, his cock hard and red as he nestles himself between your thighs.
“You’re cold.” He notes.
“I am.” You reply.
Patrick is odd - weird, a loser, but he consumes you. All you can think of day and night is Patrick, his slender fingers and skillful tongue, his angry and red cock which stuffs you perfectly and leaves you forever wanting. “What are you doing?”
Patrick’s fingers toy with the rope on your wrists. “Are they still too tight?”
“No. You fixed them earlier.” It makes your face flush when his cock presses against your slits, somehow perfectly aligned with your clit as he reaches further forward to loosen the restraints a tiny bit more. “Patrick-“
“I think you’re the only person I could ever love,” Patrick interrupts randomly with a mumble, repositioning himself and opening your thighs slightly wider. “If I tried. I could be a good husband, you know, a good father. Do you want that?”
Is he talking to you or himself? You don’t know anymore, letting him ramble on as he slowly pushes his cock inside of you. And it’s amazing - of course - it’s instant ecstasy because you were made for him, and he for you. You sheath him perfectly - and a broken moan bubbles up your throat as he snaps his hips slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in thought and his fingers digging into your thighs, his grip so tight it’s going to leave behind bruises.
“I will never hurt you.” Patrick tells himself - reassures himself, because you know it’s a lie as he’s hurting you right now. All he does is hurt you, leaves you insecure and violated, feeling guilty for the marks you’ve let him leave behind, feeling anguish as he leaves you for his skanky fiancé, night after night. “I will never hurt you. I can’t. I won’t. Do you hear me?”
Quiet gasps leave you as Patrick peppers gentle kisses against your chest. He groans into your skin as he fucks you, his balls heavy and sore as they smack into your ass. The rhythm he has is perfect - hard and slow, and the curve of his cock hits the special spot inside of you and it just feels so, so good. Everything feels amazing - feels perfect. You’re engulfed in him, the scent of his cologne and the nestling of his cock inside of you, and what have you done to deserve this?
“Do you hear me?” Patrick is slightly breathless, his eyes somewhat starry, and he looks down at you with something that could resemble adoration. And you gaze back, lovingly, because you love him, and you nod your head, but you don’t hear him - not really, because you’re too focused on feeling him.
And he feels good. It’s like you’re milking his cock - so tight and clenched down around him as the imaginary coil begins to wither away, your belly growing warm with each snap of his hips. “I want that, Patrick.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he tells himself as he tugs on the rope, leaving your skin burning in its wake. “I won’t.”
You can hear him. It’s a battle with himself. There is a thin line between pleasure and pain with Patrick, and he lets you walk that line. And he will continue to let you do so. Because you walk it prim and proper. You’re so focused on his words; "I could be a good husband, you know, a good father. Do you want that?" that you don’t care when he grips your face so hard it feels like your cheekbones are going to smash and your skull is going to turn into putty.
“Patrick," you gasp, incoherent as you feel his cum begin to fill you. "I want all of you.”
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taglist: @makeyoumine69
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derkhue · 7 months
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patrick bateman - sigma face
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crowwritesaway · 1 month
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Patrick Bateman x Female Reader
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“I just don’t understand why you’re with that pathetic excuse of a man.” He said, laying on your couch. “If you could even call that a man.” He continued, adjusting his shades.
You shook your head. “Seriously, Patrick.” He looked over at you. “What? Come on. You know it and I know. Hell, I think everyone knows it.”
“I mean seriously. You can do way better.” You crossed your arms. “I want him. No one else. I don’t care what other people think.”
He chuckled. “Then what about me.” He move his legs over the couch and sat down. He faced you. “What about you?”
“We’ve been friends for years. Best friends. He doesn’t deserve you.” Patrick said through gritted teeth.
“Yeah. Then who does.” You replied, staring at him with angry eyes. He tilted his head. “You don’t even need a boyfriend. You have me.” He stared at you with devotion in his eyes.
“It’s not the same thing. You’re a friend.” He laughed. “Best friend.”
He patted next to him. “Sit.” You reluctantly agreed and sat beside him. “He rested an arm beside your head and said, “You don’t need him. It’s me and you. Wasn’t that what we agreed on.”
You blinked. “Patrick.” He leaned closer to you. “Did we or did we not agree that it was you and me. Nothing else mattered.”
“I did but I was…” Patrick hushed you. “Exactly. Us. No outsiders.” You scoffed. Your phone rang. You looked over and got up to grab it. “Nope.” He pulled you in his arms. Your back was against his chest. “Patrick.” You scolded, moving around in his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist.
“You would leave me. For him.” Patrick mumbled, laying his head on your shoulder. “What?”
“Patrick, let go. I have to get my phone. I’ll just answer and then we’ll continue this talk.” You said, hoping he would lessen his grip on you.
He glared at the thought of letting you answer the phone. He knew it was him. He thought this was just a phase. No worries. He would fix that quick and get you away from that pathetic guy.
“Patrick, please.” He hummed, hugging you to his chest. “Y/N, we should go have fun. A club like the old times.”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that my phone is ringing and I need to answer it. Come on, please.” He swayed you. “If you say yes then I’ll let go.”
You immediately replied, “I’ll go. Now, let go.” He unwrapped his arms and you walked over to pick up your phone. It stopped ringing the second you got the phone.
Patrick silently laughed. “Come on. Dress up. We going tonight.” You grumbled, staring at the miss call. “Yeah, just give me a second.” You unlocked your phone and click on the phone icon. It was your boyfriend who called.
He clicked his tongue. He got up dork the couch and sneaked up behind you. “Nope. If it’s important, he’ll call again.” He put the phone in his pants. “Go, put on something. We’re going clubbing.”
“Fine.” You gave in. You walked into your room. Patrick pulled out your phone and entered the passcode. He clicked on your boyfriend’s number and sent it to his phone.
He turned the volume of your phone down. Tonight is the night that I bring back my Y/N.
He grinned. No one will get between us. No one.
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Can I get an imagine about patrick bateman, bubba, or jason with an s/o who has strep throat or is otherwise just sick. I gots the strep and it hurts
Pairings: Patrick Bateman x reader, Bubba Sawyer x reader, and Jason Voorhees x reader (separate) headcannons
Contains: Patrick is a dick, very self centered, overall fluffy, very sweet and doting slashers except Patrick
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Patrick will take a lot of convincing to come into the same space with you if you’re sick
He’s a huge hypochondriac
He will really only come over to see you to keep up the appearances of being a good partner
You’re really the only person Patrick actually kinda cares about but at the end of the day his first priority is himself
Will probably bring you some soup and maybe ice cream so that way he remains amazing in your eyes
“Hey honey, I am so unbelievably busy, I’d love to stay but I have a business dinner, I’ll call you tomarrow, feel better soon!” He says as soon as he drops the soup and ice cream off
He is out and on his way to do what he wants after giving you a quick forehead kiss and leaving you alone to recover
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Bubba is so doting and loving, will absolutely not leave your side
He is there from the second you even feel a little tingle and get fatigued
Bubba will bring you teas, soups, and anything he things could be soothing
He helps to bathe you and makes sure you hav as little discomfort as possible
You’re not even allowed to stand up to use the bathroom, he carries you and waits for you two yell for him
Bubba also cuddles you constantly
Keeping you warm even during your high fevers
Bubba really is the best partner ever
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Jason keeps you on the couch infront of the fire place to keep you as warm and cozy as possible
He is so doting
He brings you medicine, keeps your heating pad warm, keeps you covered up and cozy
He will make the most delicious food and soup that won’t irritate your throat
Jason even breaks out an old tv with a VCR and a huge selection of random VHS tapes he had collected over the year so you wouldn’t get too bored
He even makes you hot chocolate to help coat your throat
Jason also will happily take showers with you and give you the best massages
This man goes above and beyond for you anyway and when you’re sick
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