#patrick bateman x oc

[makeyoumine69]

My Lovely Detective III

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

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

— WORDS: 2.7k

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

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

The Fall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But his punishment came only seconds later. 

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

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

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

[melis-writes]

Ok hear me out and I know im insane for this.. we need Victoria x Patrick Bateman smut ASAP

Shipping Victoria x Patrick; did you know I’m utterly insane? 🤭 The wildest prompt pairing I’ve ever received in my life is this by far, and I thought Victonny was wild in the beginning. 😅😅 WELL. 💀 I know Miss Victoria was subjected to a Patrick Bateman era a little while ago and a lot of questions about him and her were asked/submitted sjsjsjsjs. 😵‍💫 You requested and I’m here to deliver!! This is my very first time writing for Patrick Bateman…😅 I am considering writing more for him alone but here goes Victoria x Patrick starting off towards smutty themes…🥵

’55 West 81st Street, Upper West Side. American Gardens...’ Repeating the address in your mind as you enter the luxurious, high security apartment building; the exact one specified to you numerous times by your direct supervisor and one of the vice presidents at Pierce & Pierce; Patrick Bateman.

Having only worked in the same building let alone firm with Mr. Bateman for only a week, you can’t help but find it slightly unnerving and odd, yet also courteous to be invited to Mr. Bateman’s private residence so soon.

Still, you’re not one to give up opportunity of any kind, especially ones you can take advantage of.

How many can say they’ve had the same privilege of being able to meet with and discuss their work and performance with someone as influential as Patrick Bateman and so soon?

‘11th floor.’ Stepping into the elevator, you smoothen out your blazer and patiently wait to be taken up to the eleventh floor; your heart already beginning to race from a mix of nervousness and excitement.

You have to take this meeting with Mr. Bateman as you would competition at work; you’re not the only one in line applying to become Patrick’s personal assistant and secretary after all.

You remember briefly seeing another young woman in her mid twenties named Lily during your interview who was also accepted on a preliminary basis as you.

Pierce & Pierce wanted to see which candidate was more qualified since you and the other candidate, Lily, brought similar skillsets and experience to the role promising an excellent benefit’s package and excellent pay.

You were not trained at the same time with Lily nor did you ever see her around Patrick since employment courses and training were provided on a one-on-one basis with Mr. Bateman and away from prying eyes.

This leaves you to now guess that Mr. Bateman must be personally picking between you and Lily as to who he wants to hire permanently as his personal assistant and secretary; a formality and nothing more.

For dinner tonight, you can assume Patrick will either let you know he’s chosen you as a permanent hire, or that he’s chosen Lily over you; whatever answer, you’re completely prepared. You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks now, after all.

Just as you reach the door to Patrick’s suite, you’ve barely reached your hand out to ring his doorbell when you find the front door already opening for you.

Blinking in surprise, you watch as the front door opens to reveal half of Patrick’s suite and his back turned to you, walking away already.

“You’re late,” Patrick states, paying no attention to you as he begins to make his way back towards the living room.

“You wanted to see me at 7:00 PM sharp, sir,” stunned, you take a step inside Patrick’s grandiose, modern suite; unsure whether to focus on him or the striking features and décor of his beautiful home standing out to you.

Hearing your voice instead of Lily’s, Patrick stops in his tracks.

He turns around, facing you with an amused, beaming smile over his face; a completely different tune than how disappointed he sounded just seconds ago.

“So I did. Hello, Miss Ferrari,” Patrick greets you in his cool, soothing tone. “I was expecting a mutual coworker of ours, if you could guess.”

“Lily, was it?” Blushing a little, you begin to slip off your heels and notice Patrick watching your every move with complete interest. “Were you supposed to see her earlier this evening?”

“Actually, that’s none of your business, Miss Ferrari,” Patrick answers, completely nonchalant and still smiling. “But it means well for you.”

“Right,” you murmur, still finding yourself growing adjusted to Patrick’s somewhat erratic behaviour, let alone his distractingly sexy looks every single time your eyes land on him. “Sorry, um,” you clear your throat, clasping your hands in front of you, “there’s no reason now for me to hide how I feel about that.”

“I figured,” Patrick chuckles, gesturing towards his kitchen. “Would you like a drink? I have a number of fine Italian wines that I believe you would enjoy.”

Before you can even answer, Patrick heads into the kitchen with enthusiasm in every step as you politely move into the living room and take a seat upon one of his loveseats.

“Sangiovese wine in specific,” Patrick continues speaking, grabbing out a bottle and admiring the front label. “It’s a fine red wine popular in Italy. One can always find Sangiovese grapes growing in Tuscany, it’s native region, not to mention other various southern and central parts of Italy.”

“That sounds perfect, thank you,” you’re practically mesmerized by Patrick’s tone and how he can make what would be the most mundane, unnecessary explanation by anyone else sound like a fairy tale to you.

“From the moment we met, I came to the observation you enjoy red wine and red wine alone. White wine is not to your liking, is it?” Patrick takes out two wine glasses from his cupboard, setting them down on his kitchen counter in front of your line of vision.

“You’ve observed well,” you nod, smiling back. “I suppose I could have white wine every now and again but I’ve always preferred red.”

“You have excellent taste in wine,” Patrick compliments, pouring a quarter serving of wine in both glasses. “Sangiovese wines such as this one—” Patrick taps the bottle of wine with the back of his fingernails, “are rich in flavor. Even the color derives meaning from it’s name; the blood of Jupiter.” He picks up both glasses of wine, moving towards you. “You may enjoy the prominent cherry flavor upon first taste, but the dried herbs will add to a delectable aftertaste with a hint of plum.” Patrick hands you your glass of wine, pausing for a moment to smile at you again and give a small nod. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Nodding, you take your glass of wine and blush. “I almost always drink a Sangiovese wine. You read me like a book, Mr. Bateman—”

“Patrick,” he corrects sharply while maintaining an overly friendly attitude. “You’re in my home now, Miss Ferrari. You don’t have to be formal with me.” Patrick raises his glass of wine to his lips. “I however, will call you whatever I wish.”

Taking a sip of your wine, you maintain eye contact with Patrick and find yourself clenching your legs while being unaware of it, but everything from how your expression changes, your body language and reaction times are noted by Patrick immediately and well.

“Patrick,” you repeat back, feeling your face grow hot with blush. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

“It presented itself,” Patrick swallows his wine, setting the glass down on the coffee table in front of him without taking his eyes off of you. “I saw what a patient yet confident and demanding woman you were throughout this week. I couldn’t take this position right from your hands now, could I?”

“I didn’t see it that way,” you reply back, “I always pictured you putting it in my hands.”

Patrick chuckles, shaking his head. “You more than have it now. I’m glad we made such an impression on you at Pierce & Pierce. That other woman, Lily, didn’t seem to think so.”

Your eyes widen a little but you hold your tongue, remembering Patrick practically scolding you a few moments ago for asking about Lily.

Patrick grins devilishly at you, noticing how you grow quiet. “I appreciate the gesture, Victoria,” he says your name for the first time, rising from his seat to sit directly next to you. “You won’t ask further questions.”

“You told me it was none of my business,” your heart begins to pound in your chest as you pick up the scent of Patrick’s heavenly cologne surrounding you. “And so it isn’t.”

“That’s right,” Patrick smirks. “You’ll find we do things differently at Pierce & Pierce; our rules do not shift but they are enforced strict. I have my own set of rules, and I have them for you now too.”

“Such as?” You can hardly focus on drinking your wine this close to Patrick.

“Your work attire,” Patrick places his hand over your thigh, sending a wave of excitement and pleasure rushing through you. “This skirt, for example…” He knits his brows, looking displeased.

“Oh,” you blink, unable to find anything wrong with the black, knee-length pencil skirt you’re wearing and had been wearing to work earlier today. “I’m sorry, what exactly don’t you like about it?”

“It’s not short enough,” Patrick’s eyes meet yours once again. “I want you to wear something shorter next time. Flatter your figure. You’d look good in something tighter and shorter.”

Your eyes don’t leave Patrick’s, but you can feel his hand taking your wine glass away gently and placing it down to reduce risk of you dropping it in surprise from how focused you are on Patrick’s words now.

“I’ve made my observations about you all week, Victoria,” Patrick continues, lowering his tone of voice as his hand begins to slowly glide up your skirt. “Your performance at Pierce & Pierce was more than satisfactory. Your attention to detail…” His hand moves up further to your upper thigh as you find yourself relaxing and spreading your legs further, but at a complete loss of words from throbbing, surprising arousal racking over your body. “Immaculate.”

You’ve no idea when Patrick’s face got so close to yours to breathe his words upon your neck, but you can’t get enough of feeling his firm, large hand caressing your skin.

“How you act around me is not workplace appropriate, so,” Patrick gives your thigh a squeeze, trailing his finger to trace your jawline. “I took the liberty to invite you somewhere private. My home—where you could indulge on all the dirty thoughts you have in my office about me. Isn’t that right?”

“Patrick…” Your eyes widen as you let out a soft whimper, watching his hands move underneath your skirt.

“And where I don’t have to sit and imagine what it’s like to feel your soft, supple skin; to touch and caress your thighs while adoring your body as one would do to a piece of art.” Patrick nuzzles your neck—his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the scent of your perfume.

With that, you feel Patrick's hand harshly smack your thigh, causing a quiet yet surprised moan to fly out of your mouth as you clutch onto his shoulder and feel his hand tenderly rubbing over the reddening skin where he hit you.

“Where I can have you all to myself.”

#prompts #not canon #vatrick #victoria ferrari #moth to flame x american psycho #patrick bateman x oc #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x victoria ferrari #crossover prompts #patrick bateman smut

[dogshit-gambler]

verge of frenzy—; Patrick Bateman x f!OC

Commissioned by my lovely friend @myst3r10 🖤 thank you so very much for allowing me to write this! Liz is a true girlboss 🖤

Very dark content. CNC. Drug use. Violence/Graphic Depictions of Murder. Gore.

Hot water ran over the blonde’s body, her hair sticking to the back of her neck. Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair, her hair mask sliding over her delicate fingers. The sun shimmered against her bedroom floor, clothes basking in the warmth of the sun. A formal, business look was her poison today. A long pencil skirt to hug a perfect figure was nearing her future. Sheer stockings and a white button-up to pair with her eccentric jewelry. As she squeezed her hair, her second alarm started to blare. “Fuck,” she spat. “I’m awake. Unfortunately.” It’d be one hell of a day interviewing stuck-up rich guys with egos the size of Texas. She needed a fix now. Drugs or alcohol either would do. She applied a glycolic acid cleanser to her face, dragging it down to her throat. A tingle shot through her skin as it gently exfoliated. She paired it with an almond oil scrub used primarily on her neck and chest. She needed to be perfect to combat the toxic yuppie culture - even if she took part in it too. Her skin was smooth and shaven, with tight legs and a perfectly round rump. Looks were everything.

Rinsing out her hair, she stepped from the shower, water running down her spine. Upon drying her face, she moisturized with SPF and added a sweet Gucci perfume. One sprit on her neck, the others behind her ears and wrists. She reached over to her bathroom drawer, just under the mirror to reveal a small baggie of white powder. Wasting no time, she took a sharp snort directly off the plastic. Much like people needed coffee to start the day, she needed her own special stimulant. Hers just happened to be much more expensive and illegal. All crime came with a price, yuppies knew this better than anyone. She wrapped a towel over her hair, flipping it up as she finished her routine. The rush was amazing, a quick heartbeat, the room looking so much more alive and colorful. It was awfully boring living the best life at all times, she needed this one thing to keep her intact.

Her outfit was designer, shoes worth a man’s life, lipstick as red as blood, and skin as clear as the summer sky. Elizabeth admired her reflection much like Narcissus, she could drown much like him too. Pools of beauty rippled before her, a beautiful nymph looking back at her. You’d wonder if you were even worthy enough to be looked at by her, for her eyes struck like bullets and sliced like a butterfly knife. Another hit, she thought. Fuck. She finished the baggie and chucked it into the trash. A small droplet of blood ran from her nose and a familiar soreness hit her. She took a washcloth to her nose and gently stopped the bleeding. Her damned dealer didn’t grind the shit fine enough, she’d have his head for that. Sharp, jagged crystals ripped into her nose, filling her lungs with acute amounts of blood. It was more of a nuisance than anything. Maybe one day it would catch up to her, but surviving brain-rotting conversations with millionaires hadn’t killed her yet - so nothing will at this rate.

On the contrary, Patrick Bateman never had this problem. They’d meet soon enough, even if that meant discomfort for the both of them. They were close enough to have done drugs together, but distant enough to not give a shit about each other’s problems. Bateman’s morning routine was all the same like it always was.

Jean’s ringtone began to go off.

“Helloooo?” Elizabeth spoke into the phone as she placed it on speaker.

“Hey! How are you, Jean?” She smiled through the phone, looking at herself in the mirror. She twirled the edge of the towel around her finger.

“I’m great! I was just wondering… Will I see you today? You’re so busy and I miss you. I’d like to see you even if you’re working.”

Elizabeth cleared her throat, holding the washcloth on her nose.

“Yeah, I’ll be in today for a while. I have some interviews to finish. There’s been a lot of shady bullshit going on at P&P and I plan to figure it out.” Murder scandals, how fun.”I know you’ll do great, Liz. I can’t wait to see you today.” Jean said her goodbyes before going back to work. Being an office princess had its perks, even if you were treated like meat. Having rich men fawn and bend before you - exhilarating. But Jean was far too sweet to notice the gawking expressions and predatory scrutiny. How their eyes stripped her naked and disrespected her grave before she was even dead. It was sickening. Elizabeth had seen it and stuffed it out like a candle. But Jean? She was too innocent, too kind to work in this cutthroat world. She too had climbed the corporate ladder but at what cost?

Bateman made his presence known at P&P. He looked down at his fellow yuppies, feeling their judgment, he only wished it was jealousy. Since Paul Allen’s death, more followed close behind. Bateman could only clean so much blood, oh god, how he hated cleaning the blood. He’d rather bathe in the crimson fluid, drink it, and add it to a wine sauce. Dining on the meat of mankind, drinking their blood like a sacrilegious puppet. Bateman, the man, the myth, the fucking maniac. He spent his morning jerking off the slasher movies, rewinding the death scenes until his climax. His moans mixed with the sounds of female screams, his cock rock hard as if they were real sounds of agony. His morning was ripe with violence, and porn to start the day off right.

“Hello, Jean.” He spoke. “I see you took my suggestion, you stopped wearing that ugly blouse. I like the yellow on you much better. The pink made your skin look dull. I like this so much better.”

“Morning, Pat. You look nice today.”

“Thanks! You too, Jean.”

Seemingly, all Jean heard was hello.

Patrick Bateman, you’re out of your fucking mind.

Chapter 2

Light rain, slight chance of thunderstorms.

“Good morning Liz!” Jean spoke as she made eye contact. Elizabeth made herself known, her presence requiring basic respect and intelligence. “How’d your date go last night?” Jean inquired, not knowing the cloud of disappointment that was about to glide over her head. “Horrible. A no-show. Bastard really thought I’d let that slide and tried to call me at 5 in the fucking morning to apologize.”

Jean frowned, resting her chin in her hand. “Well, I’m sorry. I hate to hear it didn’t work out. But why do you think he called you?”

Liz chuckled, at how innocent Jean was. Elizabeth looked around, making sure no one was listening. Apart from Bateman, not a soul knew she existed. “To… Just to enjoy himself.” Jean blushed a rosy red. “Oh.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yeah. Not a good look. So now I’m just… making reservations for myself.” She was used to doing things on her own, being independent had its perks but always keeping your guard up is exhausting; and by god, she was. Jean shrugged, returning to her army of papers to fill out, leaving her cousin alone to interview. She knocked on Bateman’s door. “Come in.”

“Patrick Bat-”

He cut himself off. “Elizabeth.” “Patrick.”

A rush of memories began to flood them both.

She was in Bateman’s apartment, bent over the dresser with a line of cocaine sitting on her left asscheek. Bateman snorted the powder through a bill, his muscular body covered in delicious sweat. He slapped her ass, leaving a red print on her fine skin. Bateman was rough, the kind of guy you’d regret staying the night with. Liz enjoyed it, using it as a chance to feel alive. They coexisted in misery and loneliness, using each other to cope with the pain of the world. “Fuck me,” she demanded. Patrick laughed, slapping the tip of his cock against her. The drugs ran through his bloodstream, invigorating him like a racehorse. “Be a good girl,” he began, slamming his cock into her eager hole. “And take,” he bit his lip, her walls fluttering around him, “My big fucking cock. Take it, ohhh take it, just like that. Tell me you love my cock, tell me you love getting fucked like a slut. Fucking bitch.” Bateman pounded into her, his heavy balls slapping against her. “I love your cock,” she whined, gripping the wood frame of the table. “Fuck, fuck me harder! Please, fucking use me and all my holes.” Her body was tight, lean with muscle, and perfect hips. Her legs spread for Patrick, his skin hot against hers. His body flushed and hot, sweat running down his back.

“Fucking tell me, Liz. Tell me you feel my cock buried inside you like fucking corpse. I wish you were fucking dead so I could keep you here forever, even in death you’d be slobbering on me.” Liz felt herself close to climax as Patrick’s hand crept up to her throat. His grip was deadly, the air trapped in her throat. Her brain felt heavy, her rabid heartbeat told her she very well may have died at that moment. Her orgasm was godly, the rush of crashing worlds, on the brink of death, and the drugs mixing together created an intoxicating cocktail. Patrick screamed out profanities as he overstimulated himself inside her, his aching soul clawing at his neck for release.

“Clean yourself up in the bath. Wash my cum out of you.” Elizabeth fell on the floor, weak and tired. She attempted to pull herself up off the floor and at least onto the bed. Patrick almost took pity on the damage he caused. “Come,” he said, leaning down to pick her up. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re covered in sweat, you know I can’t have that.”

He scooped her up with ease, his muscles flexing as he stood up. He was still high on the conglomeration of drugs, but still sober enough to know he didn’t really want her to rot on the floor. He felt confused with himself at times; his utter lack of empathy seemed to begin and end with her. He could abuse her and kiss the same wounds he caused. He took no pleasure in truly hurting her outside the bedroom. He wanted to spoil her with every dollar in the bank. Millions wouldn’t be enough, he’d buy her the fucking world if he could. He placed her in the bathtub, his slender hands blasting the warm water over her feet. Painted toenails shimmered under the soft lights of his bathroom. “Let me clean you up, you’re filthy.” He was gentle for the first time in his life. His hands spread almond body scrub over her back and chest, the sugar gliding over her skin like silk. Her head was still spinning, the warmth only making it worse. Patrick ran a washcloth over her skin, his soft hands tickling the gentle hairs on her arms. Her heartbeat slowed down, the dizziness now turning into an intense exhaustion; the kind worse than a long day. The coming down process was cocaine was a strong one, it felt more like dying than anything. Extreme fatigue plagued her entire body, it felt a chore to even take slow, easy inhales and exhales.

Patrick took care of her like a delicate flower, the only thing that mattered to him was Liz. His sweet, precious Liz.

---

“Patrick! Long time no see, how are you?” Liz inquired, placing her purse on his desk. The simple act of dominance annoyed Bateman. “I’ve been well, Liz. I’ve missed your company. I’m sure you’ve just been suffering without me too.” She chuckled, taking a seat. His office was dead, just like every broker in the building. “I’m not here for games, Bateman. It’s business. Take a seat.” Oh? No games? No joy. “What’s troubling you?” Bateman inquired, both his hands clasped together. His eyes cut into her like razors; blood dripping from her doll-like skin. “Well,” she began. “How’s it feel being one of the last standing? This isn’t looking good. Tell me what you know.”

Patrick scoffed. “Tell you what? That I killed everyone in the building and burned their putrid corpses?”

“There’s a start.” “Oh, don’t be silly, Liz.”

She leaned in close, the air thick with tension. “Patrick.”

She stared into his eyes, counting every lash, every pore, and soon to be every fucking zero after his bail. “I need you to be honest here. Where were you on the night of Paul Allen’s death? And the rest? John Minton? Samantha Higgins? Gustavo King? Come the fuck on, Pat. Tell me.” She stood strong in the face of evil, knowing damned well she could look back without a stitch of doubt, let alone fear. Patrick’s eyes danced around her neck, imagining his hands wrapped around it. His mind raced with the memories.

“It turned you on when I told you how I butchered them all.” Patrick began, a sinister smirk plastered on his face. “Christ, don’t you remember? Soaking your panties when I told you how I bled a man in the tub like a pig?” Fuck. “I know it did. You’re a glutton for punishment - only if you get to watch like a fucking voyeur.

His words made her cringe but she detected no lies. “Patrick. You are far too comfortable.” Bateman laughed. Oh god, how he laughed. “Don’t be silly. Let alone coy, you think I’d forget about you covered in blood while I fucked you next to a corpse?” Elizabeth rolled her eyes, she wasn’t so innocent either. “Correct. Which is evidence enough to throw your ass in jail.” “Pftt… You’d be convicted too! You fucking watched!” Yes, she did. And she enjoyed it. It was sick, it was perverted, but nothing in their lives came normally; god forbid peacefully. Patrick wasn’t wrong, but that was the goddamn problem. “You have no evidence,” Liz replied quickly, a hint of amusement in her voice. “No?”

“No.”

“Pumpkin… I was filming us. You looked so beautiful all splayed out, blood and every other liquid dripping off you. You wouldn’t want that plastered everywhere, would you?” Patrick leaned back in his chair, the black material of his button-up stretching over his powerful biceps. “But you and I both know you can’t live without me and seeing me locked up would crush your precious little heart; even if it is black with rot.” Patrick’s lips curled into a soft smile as Liz looked him up and down. Dare say, he considered it ogling. “I heard you got stood up, by the way. So we will go out tonight. It Looks nice. Wear that tight red dress I got. It makes your ass look like a heart.” Patrick handed her his credit card, the letters P.B engraved on the backside in titanium shimmered under his lights. “Get your hair and nails done too… My treat. Simply because your act was hilarious.”

She snatched his card like a viper. “As if I wouldn’t have blown your money regardless…”

In truth, she’d never throw Patrick under the bus. She was too emotionally involved, invested in his life. Patrick was a constant, one thing she could always rely on. Apart from the never-ending drugs, Patrick was her system, her habit, her vice. Needless to say, his grip on her was monstrous. But she wasn’t the only one wrapped around a finger. Patrick was a slave to her whims, her wishes, her desires. Everything she could want, from the world to a blood diamond, she could have it all.

She gathered her things and just before leaving, she stood still in her tracks. “Don’t get too comfortable, Bateman. I have my ass on the line for you.” That… was an understatement. She was in deep, but Patrick was even deeper.

There was nothing like having a fresh set of gel nails and a new hairstyle. While she was perfectly within her ability to do these things herself, it was nice to use Patrick’s money for a change. It made him feel needed, something he’d never admit. All he wanted was to feel desired like he was a capable man. God knew he was, but Patrick still felt plagued with doubt.

The infamous red dress made an appearance. Strapless and covered in sequence, the red gown draped over her body like a sea of blood. Wrapping, enveloping her skin like a hungry beast. Patrick picked it for her, imagining himself ripping it off like a demon in the night. She stood in the mirror, black stiletto high heels shaping her lean calves. Tight fishnet stretched over her skin, each mole and birthmark adorning her skin visible. Luscious blonde curls draped over her shoulders, body glitter donning her skin like a rare gem. Men would carve her out of the most dangerous and feared mine in the world - just to get a taste of the sweet magnolia perfume she wore like her own skin. Patrick would peel it off like the tender skin of ripe fruit, stripping her down to the bone marrow just to get a small taste.

Her mirror image looked back at her, admiring the life she built for herself. A queen, a she-caligula looked back and laughed at all the times she showed pity on those smaller than her. Patrick was a horrible influence, enhancing the dark heart that slept beneath. Vermilion adorned her lips like blood, with earthy tones on her eyes. Patrick would drop fucking dead when she walked out the door. She was certain Patrick would look just as ravishing.

Chapter 3

Patrick pulled up to her luxury apartment, his driver mentally preparing for the horrors that would be the ride to Dorsia. It was never about the restaurant or the money it took to get in. It was yuppie bragging rights. Even for Liz, it was the ability to brag. She looked down at him from her window, a distance seeming infinite. Never close enough, just on the edge. The space felt liminal, empty, and cold. Her eyes shot down like bullets but the air was bulletproof. She’d kill him by now if the consequence wouldn't be everlasting loneliness that felt more like a punch to the gut. Patrick was the only person on earth who she could tolerate. People were meaningless or a nuisance. Bateman wasn’t a person - rather an entity to walk through life as a shadow. Casting darkness like a stormcloud, he walked.

Liz trekked down the steps, her dress held tightly in her hand. Her heels, a war drum, a tune imitated by many, but mastered by none. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery. Many aspired to be like the woman, her energy wicked, yet influenced by Patrick. He was even more sick than she could hope to be.

The door was already open for her, the only thing missing was a red carpet. Rolled out before her was only Patrick, her feet could crush him like a bug if given the chance. She smiled, her red lips curling. “You look gorgeous, Pumpkin.”

“Thank you, Patrick. Not so shabby yourself, hm?”

“Of course.”

---

“I’ll have your lobster bisque and a side salad. The lady will have the salmon mousse and NY Strip. Oh, add dessert while you’re at it. Whatever the chef’s special is.”

The waiter took their order, moving quickly to the kitchen. Patrick was a regular and was painfully critical. If the food wasn’t perfect he’d throw a fit - much like a child. Elizabeth leaned her cheek on her palm, the supple skin pushing up gently. “So,” she began. “What trouble are you in now, Pat?” She shifted hands, using her free one to gently grasp him across the table. “The only trouble that I’m in is the trouble you caused for me, Liz. My dear. My ever-so-sweet darling. You’ve put me in a world of hurt.” He replied, leaning in. His eyes were deep - soft even. He was gentle if only for a moment. “And what do you want me to do about that?” Liz pulled back, looking at the table sitting just behind them. They’d ordered the menu special - funny. The woman sitting behind Patrick looked eerily concerned. “All those men… dead? Gone? I can’t… I hope they catch who is behind these horrific killings.”

Liz smiled. “Horrific?” She repeated quietly, biting her bottom lip. Bateman smiled. “Seemingly so.” That urge came back, fuck. The urge to hurt, the urge to BE hurt. Patrick’s hands began to sweat, and his brow furrowed. Liz knew that look anywhere. She knew that woman’s fate had been sealed the moment she thought of Patrick. Sick, perverted, he was - but god, Liz was just as sick. If she’d sat with Patrick knowing he was this way, there would be two murderers sitting together. She gave him a nod, sealing this stranger’s fate.

Their food arrived and Liz began to dig in. It was perfect, the steak bloody and juicy. The salmon mousse was salty and creamy. Sharp cheese was served on the side with crackers, handmade by the chef’s loving hands. Patrick’s soup was warm, bursting with flavor. They exchanged bites, almost as if sharing a kiss. The act of sharing food was pure, even if it was rotten all the same. A bottle of wine was brought to their table, the waiter pouring glass after glass. The warm fuzzy feeling began to overtake them, the food richer, the air warmer. Everything was bright. Patrick turned to look at the table behind them, spotting another woman gossiping about him. Well - so he thought. He was guilty as charged, blood on his hands could only drip so much until they stained.

“Excuse me, but I’d love to pay for your meal,” Patrick spoke to them. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it seems like your conversation had brought you ladies down. It would make my day to treat you.” Liz smiled, that was her Patrick. “Oh!” They exclaimed. “You are so kind, sir.” If God only knew…

Upon checking out, Patrick added the other table’s meal to his bill. “Thank you so much, sir. It appears angels do exist.” Liz remained quiet and listened intently. The two women were middle-aged, appearing naive but adventurous enough to come home with them. “Perhaps, I could be one, you never know.” Patrick chuckled. “Are you two ladies up for some fun, perhaps? My girlfriend and I…”

The air became thick with suspicion. He was too bold. “I... I’m not sure, sir.”

“Oh, you’ll love it.” Liz chimed in. “We love company.” Patrick had never seen her like this before. “We would love to have you.” Having a woman’s touch never hurts. Liz seemed trusting, and knowing Patrick, this aspect only made his cock throb. Liz could be very convincing when she wanted - and now - she needed this. This release, this ecstasy from the pain and pleasure. She batted her eyelashes across the table and that delicate look seemed to be all it took. “Mhmm… Fine. I like meeting new people anyways. I’m Marion.”

“Marion. This is my boyfriend, Patrick. I’m Elizabeth.”

Chapter 4

Patrick’s apartment is a tomb for many, a chamber of death and destruction for all. “Take a seat,” Liz cooed, slipping off Marion’s jacket. “Wine? Beer? What’s your fancy, sweetheart?” Liz’s fingers trailed over Marion’s shoulder, pushing back her strawberry-red hair. It smelled faintly of a developer and an almond hair mask. Patrick couldn’t contain his excitement. “Would you like something… stronger?” Liz pulled a small baggie of cocaine from her chest, dangling it in front of Marion like a bone to a dog. Marion’s cheeks turned deep pink, her skin hot, the hairs on her neck standing up. “I’ve… never done this.” Liz smiled before laying it out before them. “It’s easy. TOO easy! Just…” She made fine lines on the silver tray in front of them, giving Marion the thinnest line. “Just snort, move along quickly. It’s fucking amazing.” She ran her fingers through Marion’s hair, guiding her head down. She looked behind them, seeing Patrick standing in the hallway, a small hammer in his hands. She gave him a nod, gently scratching Marion’s scalp. She moved her hand to the back of Marion’s neck, leaving space for Patrick to swing.

Crack. Wet matter hit the table, a tooth following after. He hit her again, this time in the side of the cranium. Again. Again. Again. Until blood spattered on Liz, a chunk of brain rolling down her chest. “Finally!” Bateman shouted. “Fucking FINALLY!” He grabbed Marion’s neck, pulling her close to him. He pulled fragments of her skull off, dropping them at his feet. Her heart had long since stopped, the blunt impact deadly enough to end her life on the second swing. Dare - you could say she didn’t know what hit her. His hands were shaking from the thrill. Blood covered his face, his hair stained and now crusty with the fluid. Cold, nothing but cold air filled the room. The brain matter on Liz’s chest was now on the floor, along with an ocean of blood and flesh.

She grabbed her boyfriend’s hand, stopping him for only a moment. She ran his hand down her face, leaving a trail of blood behind. He smelled like crushed bones and cologne. Liz felt the blood dry on her skin. Patrick’s hand ran down to her breast, the blood following. “You’re so damned hot,” he spoke. He pressed his other hand into the pool of blood, gathering a small amount in his hand before smearing it all over Liz’s chest and neck. His handprints tattooed her skin, from her cheeks down to the now exposed flesh on her back. “Take me, Patrick,” She begged, running her sticky fingers in his hair. The blood was horrid, the stickiness, the smell. They didn’t give a shit, all they needed was each other. Patrick peeled off her underwear, his following shortly. He laid her back in the ever-growing pool of blood on the floor. Her heart raced, her body excited with the idea of being fucked next to a corpse. Patrick dove into her pussy, lapping at her like a man starved. He gave her no warmup, the anticipation driving them both insane. He reached up to tease her nipples, her skin aching with the pain of his grip, but his skin was so sweet against her. She planted herself in the pool of blood, wrapping one of her nimble legs around his head as her orgasm approached. He ran his tongue in sharp, rough circles over her clit. Her hands slipped in the blood, her body writhing in the intense pleasure. She sang his name like a symphony, an orchestrated show for the wicked. He brought his bloodied hand to her clit, his mouth leaving her sex for only a moment. His mouth was covered in crimson, a perfect mix of her juice and Marion’s blood. He smacked her clit before rubbing it how she liked it. He knew her body like the back of his hand. Liz writhed like she was being tortured, the pleasure intense it almost hurt. “Fucking cum for me, fucking cum for me. Look at all this blood and cum at the thought of it. That’s my sweet girl. That’s right.”

Liz swatted his hand away, seconds away from her climax. “I want to fucking ride you as we look at the mess you made. My Patrick.” She pushed him onto his back, grabbing his gorgeous cock in her hands. She planted her mouth on him, taking him to the back of her throat, swirling her tongue over his swollen tip. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pushing her head down to his pubic hair. He cursed a thousand curses before pulling her head up. Her face was strung with tears, her lips swollen and her nose bleeding from the cocaine use. She crawled on top of him like a fucking terror from hell. She positioned herself on his perfect cock, leaving a bloody handprint on his chest, right where his beating heart was. She rode his cock, grinding her clit against him in the process. “Fuck, fuck. Yes. Ride my fucking cock, Liz. Fucking ride me, my darling.” She used his chest as support, her nails flicking over his nipples, sending him into a fucking frenzy. “Such a sensitive boy, eh? Like having your nipples played with? Oh, my sweet, sweet Patrick.” Her other hand wrapped around his supple neck, her grip much stronger than he anticipated. He bucked his hips like a madman, his vision slowly blurring. She was drenched in blood but damn - she never looked better.

Patrick whined as he climaxed so hard he thought his eyes were going to pop out of his skull. “Cum for me, Patrick. Cum for me, please, oh please.” She brought her fingers to her clit, rubbing frantically in an attempt to cum with him. She continued to bounce on his cock, their skin slapping together, much like that hammer smacked into Marion’s head.

They collapsed next to the corpse, its eyes still open and cold. A gray cast overtook the lifeless eyes. Liz swallowed, her naked body on display for the corpse. Patrick caught his breath, pulling Liz next to him. “If you ever tell anyone about this,” he began…

“I’ll kill you myself, but I’ll keep your body to fuck.” He smiled softly, kissing the top of her head. “Likewise, Bateman. Fess up and they’ll never find your body. But like you, I’d ride your corpse into the afterlife. Lots of women used to attend hangings just to see a hard cock.”

Patrick smiled. “Well, you don’t need to hang me to see my dick hard. Trust me.”

Author’s note: HAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!! IM INSANE!!!!!! <333

#american psycho #patrick bateman #commisons #patrick bateman x oc

[rp-partnerfinder]

🔪In Search Of MxM, 18 looking for 18+, American Psycho Roleplay! 🔪

It would be Male Oc x Patrick Bateman, I’m fairly literate, providing on average two paragraphs and I’m open to any ideas you’d provide!

There could be possible elements of dead dove material due to the nature of American Psycho.

Patrick Bateman, a successful man in New York hadn’t really felt proper emotions besides Greed and Disgust, he wouldn’t say that he was attracted to men, just enjoyed the feeling of their skin against his own, well when they had been clean, smooth, not being a fan of dirty men. His sanity had been slipping away, day after day his bloodlust had grown. He hadn’t known why he felt these things, could it be the frustration from his girlfriend having an affair? He hadn’t known. His primary target had been younger men, always handsome, he wasn’t going to waste his time and effort on some he deemed ugly.

That was until he saw Warrick, a ‘unique’ yet ugly name in his opinion, but the man, he seemed different then his regular victims, the way the man had looked, acted, it was a genuinely kind person, clean person, not a filthy one. Deciding upon keeping him around, just for now. Seeing Warrick every few days, calling often, making sure he was safe, Patrick wanted him to be safe, unfortunately Warrick was well liked, people would notice if he went missing, god knows how many people he’s told about Patrick. So the man couldn’t just keep him in his apartment against his will, Patrick had known that Warrick genuinely cared for him, even making Patrick meals whenever he came over, bringing his own toiletries to not touch Patrick’s, he appreciated it, even if he sometimes wanted to bash Warrick’s skull in.

Give me a like if you’re interested!

.

#MxM #18 looking for 18+ #American Psycho Roleplay #American Psycho RP #Male Oc x Patrick Bateman #literater rp #Patrick Bateman x OC #american psycho au #oc plot #roleplay #rp #roleplay search #rp finder #roleplay finder #1x1 rp #indie rp #oc rp #18+ rp

[ashpuriin]

recent gk art 👍

#ogata patrick bateman jumpscare #golden kamuy #golden kamuy fanart #gk #koito otonoshin #ogata hyakunosuke #kirawus #tsukishima hajime #vasily pavlichenko #shiraishi yoshitake #ienaga kano #tsurumi tokushirou #golden kamuy oc #spreading my shirao agenda yeaaaahhhhhh #gk x sanrio collab is like the realest thing ever

[crowwritesaway]

Requests are Open.

Emergency Commissions are Open.

$10 for 1k words plus a surprise gift

Fandoms I write for

- Vikings

- Peaky Blinders

- Yandere Male x Reader

- American Psycho

- House of the Dragon

I also create fictional characters if you’re interested.

I’ll write

- Angst/comfort

- Yandere

- x Reader

- NSFW (+ $5 for commissions)

I don’t write

- Aged up characters

- 1ncest

Dm is open for requests/commissions.

#peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders fanfic #vikings x reader #ivar the boneless x you #patrick bateman x you #bucky barnes x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere idol x reader #yandere oc #peaky blinders x reader #writing commissions #request are open #slasher x y/n #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing

[w3skerslt]

Just a few drawings of mine lol

My OC (Fēn Luxor) for Baldur’s Gate three, inspired by my actual Tav. Except my OC is like half moth, so obviously way cooler 😎

(I couldn’t remember Wyll’s hair off by heart 😭)

And also some art of Patrick Bateman and my OC Jun (totally not ship art)

#drawing #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur’s gate astarion #oc art #oc x character #american psycho #patrick bateman #fanart?

[larathefox]

sorry sigma males

#american psycho #patrick bateman #oc x canon

[anatryhard]

I never thought I'd ever end up animating Strade with Patrick Bateman's voice lines yet here we are.

I wanted to do a little silly oc x canon shitpost before I get to actual work and this felt like a fresh breath of air🦭

Self insert belongs obviously to me but Strade belongs to @/gatobob !!!

#boyfriend to death #btd #fanart #strade btd #gatobob #tpof #animation #ykmet #ykmet strade #btd strade #btd2 #shitpost

[makeyoumine69]

My Lovely Detective I

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

— SUMMARY: Being a detective in New York was pretty hard, and being a woman detective was even harder, but not for Andrea Moore. Despite the fact that she lived the life of an average American without any luxury or wealth, she loved her job, her life and her boyfriend, who always supported her. One day, her boss — Detective Kimball — assigned her to a case regarding the disappearance of a very rich man from Wall Street named Paul Allen, and her first task became to interrogate the man who was suspected to be connected to it. From that moment on, Andrea would have to reveal what secrets were hidden behind the perfect facade of Patrick Bateman...

— CONTAINS: Swearing, misogyny, mind manipulation, mild seduction.

— WORDS: 2.4k

— A/N: Me and my dear friend @iron-flavored-lipgloss have been working on this writing project for quite a while and now it's finally here! Feel free to share your opinion, we hope you like it!

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

Pierce & Pierce

The first impression I got when I stepped into the glass box called P&P office was the unprecedented atmosphere of wealth and elitism I'd never experienced before. It only confirmed Donald Kimball's statements about Wall Street and its special aura that consumes you from the moment you enter the space where arrogant yuppies rush past you without paying attention, even if they push you painfully on your shoulder.

Today, I had to interrogate one of the vice presidents of Pierce & Pierce, his name was Patrick Bateman and Detective Kimball - my boss - had a very strange opinion about this guy and he made me aware to be careful and attentive to the things he would say. And I didn't know why my heart was beating so fast when it was such a common thing for me to interrogate someone, but once I got to the right floor and went into Bateman's office I saw a beautiful blonde woman who was supposed to be his assistant. Her name was Jean and she asked me to wait a bit before she sneaked into Patrick's office to ask him if he was not super busy.

One minute, two minutes...

I was getting more and more nervous the longer I waited, but luckily for me, Jean appeared almost as I was about to start digging my nails into my skin; she politely asked me to come in.

With deliberate movements, I entered the fashionable office to see a handsome man sitting at the wooden desk, his brown hair with a golden hue slicked back, and the moment he raised his eyes to me, I felt a tight knot form in my stomach.

"This is Detective Andrea Moore," Jean introduced me with a friendly smile. "Can I get you some coffee?" She asked immediately, but her question wasn't addressed to me as I noticed her devoted gaze on the brown-haired man who still hadn't said a word.

For Patrick Bateman, there was little to distinguish one workday from the other. Everything went in pleasantly bland and repetitive cycles: arriving at the office (impeccably styled from head to toe like any self-respecting yuppie, but still a little sleeker than everyone else, he reassured himself), the new release by whatever popular band was blaring in his headphones. With world economic news on the TV and a crossword puzzle to complete, he told Jean to cancel unnecessary meetings every morning.

But not today. 

There was a moment of irritation when Jean declared that there was an unexpected visitor waiting outside his office. A detective, she said, but this time it wasn't Kimball, and this additional information was what really started to bother Patrick. 

He had to make an effort to manipulate Kimball, sure that the man would finally believe in his integrity and drop the 'Paul Allen' case.‘Maybe I need to get my lawyer involved, maybe money needs to be paid to solve this.' The door opened again, this time Jean led the detective in, and in an instant a wave of relief washed over Patrick. He dismissed Jean with a smile that was almost natural to him by now. He let her go and then turned his eyes back to the woman in front of him. ‘A female detective... If they exchanged Kimball with her, for whatever reason, my situation can't be that bad.’ Patrick let his eyes glide over her body, his confidence returning with every second. Aside from her sex, this person truly presented a different image than Kimball. Illuminated by the morning sun, her suit shimmered in a way that only cheap polyester could. ‘What a feeble attempt to demand respect,’ Patrick thinks with mild disgust. Despite its loose cut, the suit did little to hide her voluptuous figure. 'Nice tits. Could be an hourglass figure if it weren't for the fat around her waist.' 

Disinterested, he focused again on her face, framed by brown and unruly curls - another flaw in his book. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss ...?" Patrick asked in a tone of false pleasantness, but with a face that didn't betray much happiness. He didn't remember her name very well either, even though Jean had said it just a few seconds ago.

"Miss Moore," she replied briefly, taking a seat across from his desk. At first the woman reached out to shake his hand, but then she pulled back. "Detective Donald Kimball has decided to let me continue his investigation into Paul Allen's disappearance," Andrea paused to retrieve the notebook and pen from her bag. "We have another missing persons case."

Though her voice sounded confident and stern, there was a turmoil of emotions raging within her, but the woman managed to regain her composure. God, why was reality so cruel to her? When Kimball had given her this case, he had never mentioned what Bateman looked like, and that had made Andrea think that Patrick was a typical middle-aged banker, but she had been so fucking wrong that now she felt embarrassed and nervous, and her hands were shaking slightly. 

"According to my information, you were seeing a woman named Bethany not too long ago," the detective looked at Patrick while he made some notes. "You were studying at Harvard together. Is that correct?"

‘She has an exotic look to her, despite the last name. A "first generation raised outside East Harlem" kind of vibe, ' Patrick thought dismissively.  ‘Girls like her have a lot to prove, and they always bring that insecurity into the conversation. They cover it up by acting all masculine and bossy.’ 

It wasn't lost on him how her fingers trembled as she reached for the notebook, and that was the only reason the mention of Bethany's name didn't worry him for the moment. Perhaps Paul was having an affair with her? New York's elite is a small world. 

Right now, this interview was nothing more than an inconvenience for him. "That's true. But really, our relationship ended after graduation. I also can't help but wonder how any of this relates to Paul Allen. At least that was the topic of conversation with Detective Kimball."

'What a smug son of a bitch.' The detective didn't flinch, her face devoid of emotion despite the storm brewing inside. "You see, sometimes we work with the police to help find missing persons," she explained, unbuttoning her jacket to reveal a simple blue blouse underneath. "A few weeks ago it was reported that a woman named Bethany Simmons had disappeared under strange circumstances, but before that she had dined with you. Her hairdresser confirmed it."

A sudden power shift in the conversation made Andrea feel a little more confident as she detected a slight tension in the way Bateman frowned.

"What happened after dinner, Mr. Bateman?" The woman asked insistently, pen in hand, ready to catch every word the man was about to give her. "Maybe you can tell us where Bethany is now?"

Patrick couldn't help but feel his body stiffen at Detective Moore's words before he forced himself to lean back in his chair - just keeping up the pretense of casualness. 

"We met for a late dinner, nothing more. After that we parted ways, I would have assumed she went home. But this is really disturbing to hear."

Mimicking a sad expression, Patrick studied the woman across from him intensely. Maybe he needed to be careful. Kimball had a different attitude, one that Patrick already began to miss because of its familiarity. 

‘Why so aggressive with this lack of hard evidence? A hairdresser... Believe a hairdresser over the testimony of a vice president of a leading Wall Street firm! I bet she just hates men.’

And yet his eyes lingered on her now exposed blouse.

The detective was about to check the time, but when she noticed the gold Rolex on Bateman's wrist, she somehow changed her mind, not wanting to reveal her cheap watch.

"Okay," she smiled suddenly and put her notebook on her lap. "May I ask about your relationship with Bethany? Maybe she shared some concerns with you during that dinner? Did she think she was in danger? Maybe someone was threatening her?" Andrea asked with undisguised interest in the case she was investigating. "I know that Mr. Kimball had a conversation with Bethany's fiancé..."

The sudden pause hung in the air like a suffocating rope around Patrick's neck.

'He's lying, I can feel it.' The woman grinned wider and made some notes. "I really hope you'll give me some information so I don't have to deal with your lawyer. People in your circle always like to do that." Andrea fixed her curly locks that tried to block her vision. "But I understand how busy you are."

Hidden under the desk from the detective's watchful eyes, Patrick's fingers began to dig into his thigh. Oh, how he wished it was her neck instead. 

How much information could Bethany's fiancé really have? No, this seemed more like a strategy to make him panic, and yet it was starting to work in a way. 

"Oh, I don't see any need to get a lawyer involved. These questions are only reasonable," Patrick fought to maintain the image of an innocent man and gave the most sympathetic smile his tense muscles could muster. "She didn't mention anything specific, but you know. She had a tendency to meet up casually with different men, so who knows where she went after our dinner. I'm not sure how informed her boyfriend is about that either. As for me and her - we were just catching up for old times' sake.”

At this point, Patrick started to seriously think about what had happened to Bethany's body.

Andrea did her best to catch up with Bateman's comments, writing them down with calculated precision. Then she massaged her temples shortly - a clear sign of her tired state. "You said Bethany was seeing other men...do you think she might be unfaithful to her fiancé?" The detective asked suddenly, arching her eyebrow in a thoughtful manner as cogs began to turn in her head. "Also, do you know her boyfriend? Could he be dangerous to Bethany?"

The woman didn't even notice her foot tapping on the floor, the adrenaline from the current conversation coursing through her veins, and that was the strongest drug for her.

"Have you been having an affair with Bethany behind his back? That can be a motive for him to commit a crime, you know what I mean?" She murmured in a suddenly low voice, her throat was dry from tension, but she didn't dare ask for water. A muffled rustling of city life could be heard in the moment of silence and the woman hoped that Patrick couldn't hear her fast heartbeat.

Maybe it was the way she looked at him (tired? dismissive? annoyed?), but something inside him shifted. Suddenly, Patrick found himself dangerously overwhelmed by irritation at her audacity and bold questioning, more than anything else.

"It was her who invited me, and during our time together she was clearly trying to make a move. Well, she didn't get what she wanted out of that dinner. I'm engaged myself, you know."

‘She thinks she's so smart, but if we had met under different circumstances, in a club for example, she would be throwing herself at me right now.’

"You said it yourself, I have a very busy lifestyle," and with a playful glance at his Rolex, Patrick continued. "But I'm making time for you, willing to prove good intentions. And all I can say is that I knew Bethany better when we were together. I'm unfamiliar with her exact current situation and fiancé."

Beyond the carefully curated faux friendliness, he leaned forward and looked deeply into Detective Moore's dark eyes. 

"But if a woman in a committed relationship looks at other men the way she looked at me that night - her boyfriend can't be good. Wouldn't that be the logical conclusion?"

His unexpectedly brazen remark made Andrea's jaw clench in anger. "Maybe after we find Bethany, you can ask her that question."

The woman tried to hide her annoyance as his words found some resonance within her - Bateman was an utterly handsome man, it was foolish and stupid to try to argue with that fact, though that didn't mean the detective had to admit it either.

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Bateman," the woman muttered and tucked her things back into her bag. " I will take some time researching information and discussing it with Mr. Kimball. I think we can meet here in a week or...maybe at a café?" The woman's expression didn't change even when she realized what she had just said. "I don't want to bother Jean and the people in here," Andrea tried to shake off her nervousness. "But this is all up to you."

Patrick raised his eyebrows, taking her sudden desire to leave as a success on his part. "Why do you say you bother Jean? This is her job. But if there is any way I can help you with your research, please do."

He held one of his business cards out to her, his attitude now almost charming.

‘Of course she wants to meet me for dinner. Like all the women I've met, huh?’

 "Call this number and Jean will discuss a convenient time and date with you. I will get us a good reservation at a restaurant, for whatever topic you want to discuss with me. You see, I just don't like unannounced interruptions."

The woman took the business card and, without looking at it, quickly put it in her notebook. "See you soon, have a good day, Mr. Bateman."

With that Andrea picked up her things and got up to leave the office as soon as possible, she didn't say anything to Jean. When she was finally outside, she took a moment to breathe deeply, as if she was suffocating from lack of oxygen all the time. The pedestrians passed her like ghosts, her heartbeat pulsed in her ears and Andrea couldn't really remember being so... shocked and puzzled by any man before. 

Even in the subway all she could think about was Bateman and his pathetic attempts to deceive her and mislead her investigation. Now she had more questions than answers, and she desperately needed to talk to Mr. Kimball. ‘I'm gonna make you talk, Bateman, I'm gonna do more than that.’

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

[awritessomething]

I have absolutely no ideas for writing whatsoever pleaseplease leave requests!!! Smut, angst, fluff, whatever y’all want I can probably do.

Ill write for these people and probably more that I forgot (all male character x fem!reader) :

Formula 1:

Max Verstappen

Lando Norris

Oscar Piastri

Charles Leclerc

Pierre Gasly

Lewis Hamilton

Carlos Sainz

Daniel Riccardo

Mick Schumacher

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

David Rossi (preferably young)

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes

Tony Stark

Thor

Sam Wilson

Deadpool

Steve Rogers

Spiderman (Tom Holland, Andrew Garfield, Miguel O'hara)

Call of Duty

Keegan Russ

Simon "Ghost" Riley

König

Phillip Graves

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Star Wars:

Anakin Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Luke Skywalker

Han Solo

Outer Banks:

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

Topper Thornton

John B. Routledge

Harry Potter:

Harry Potter

Cedric Diggory

Draco malfoy

Ron Weasley

Fred Weasley

Blaise Zabini

Regulus Black

Severus Snape

Tom Riddle

Sirius Black

Lorenzo Berkshire

Oliver Wood

The Walking Dead:

Glenn Rhee

Daryl Dixon

Rick Grimes

Carl Grimes

Miscallaneous:

Jack Champion (Ethan Landry)

Patrick Bateman

Batman (Christian Bale)

Johnathan Crane

Finnick Odair

Josh Hutcherson (Peeta Mellark, Mike Schmidt, Sean Anderson, Clapton Davis)

Rodrick Heffley

Colby Brock

Sam Golbach

Tristan Dugray

Dylan O'brien

Jude Bellingham

Joao Felix

Bellamy Blake

Patrick Dempsey (Derek Shepherd, Ronald Miller)

Joe Goldberg

Timothee Chalamet (Wonka, Paul Atreides)

Minho (The Maze Runner)

Keanu Reeves (John Wick, Neo, Alex Wyler)

Jim Halpert

Farkas

Ulfric Stormcloak

Miraak

Ben Schnetzer (Max Vandenburg, Brad Land, Russ Sheppard)

Brock Purdy

Ralph Macchio (Daniel Larusso, Johnny Cade)

Dallas Winston

Sodapop Curtis

Robby Keene

Zuko (atla dallas liu)

Jet (atla sebastian amoruso)

Cillian Murphy (Johnathan crane, jackson rippner, Neil Lewis)

Evan Peters (all ahs characters, Luke cooper)

What I wont do:

Pedophilia

Beastiality or anything animal-y

Waterworks

Male reader (sorry)

Character x character

Threesomes or anything not 1x1

Character x oc

Specific body types (i just don’t see the point)

Daddy/mommy kinks

Incest or stepcest

(I’ll prob have to add on but its midnight rn)

#f1 #f1 imagine #angst #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 smut #formula1 #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #max verstappen angst #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes #chris evans #rodrick heffley #sam and colby

[mmurkoff]

Op i desperately need to know about your bolton oc(s) for they are beginning to haunt my waking dreams 🙏 i humbly ask for your intel 🙏

FIRST OFF … thank you so much for the interest ive been really rotating them in my brain lately so it means a lot to hear you like them (ʃƪ˘ﻬ˘)

i originally made them for funsies last year for a fic i didnt end up writing but i've gotten back into the swing of it so when i figure out how to put a story together i'll put it out there . for now... > here's a proper doodle of their fits i put together .

their names are ysabel and cayn bolton - their parents are maisie manderly and alaric bolton ( x ) . cayn is ~20 and ysabel is a few years younger but don't ask me about specifics because i ...... <3 haven't figured the timeline out yet .

ysabel is a severe case of troubled youth as a result of being raised in a household that centers its identity around the concept of flaying people . their dad is kind of balls off the wall nutso and insists very early on that both his kids have to uphold their family history and identity which leads to both of them being exposed to excessive violence before they really should have been and it definitely gets to her the most . at the core she's kind of squishy and more delicate than you'd imagine from the horrendous dead stare she has > growing up she definitely struggled more than cayn to deal with growing up in the environment she did > she has frequent delusions of what is basically a reanimated skin of a man that follows her around and gets in the way when she's especially stressed out . physical representation of the terror of her father's ambition and actions etc

she's kind of quiet and weird and doesn't have many friends aside from her brother but she IS very polite and well-mannered as is expected of a noble lady . very influenced by having a manderly mother in that she leans a little more into expectations of women as framed by the faith of the seven . likes poetry and embroidery and whatever else she's been told to like and is determined not to step outside her box of expectation . eventually spirals into further delusion of the religious kind when she gets to king's landing and things start to devolve politically > the spiral and downfall of what being a proper lady in medieval society means . her first encounter with aemond targaryen is in the king's landing gardens where she thinks he's about to attack her so she bites a chunk out of his neck so do with that as you will

cayn on the other hand is by all accounts outwardly pretty Normal . he's charming and an open book and very easy to get along with if you can disregard the ever lingering Blue Eyed Stare . being the oldest son just like ysabel he has a very specific set of expectations put on him but in a very different way . should uphold a clear image of being like his dad and learns to fight and hunt and rule but it all ends up being very fake . you look him in the eye while you chat about northern alliances and how to make sure this and that lord is satisfied and hes smiling but there is nothing behind those damn eyes .

definitely does not help that ... he IS a homosexual <3 both of them are meant to be people who put up very firm appearances of being well-adjusted, matching expectations essentially perfectly - only to have those expectations torn down entirely when they're strained enough . going to sound like a fucking insane thing to say but cayn to me is very medieval patrick bateman - in the sense that he's obsessed with appearances and what others think of him, but it's all just a means of covering up the fact that he is 2 seconds away from snapping and killing someone or himself at all times . i have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. something horrible is happening inside of me and i don't know why. my nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. i feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip etc, if you will .

the plot here is a little lost on me because i havent written it all out yet and i cant keep information in my mind for longer than a second but it's essentially dance of the dragons but if i took all the events and scrambled them around and made it completely different . ´･ᴗ･` more book-focused than show-focused at least in terms of the characterization of people like aemond and alicent (i like when they're a little meaner and more crude . my bad ...)

before the war begins - the greens plot away, realizing viserys is not going to name aegon heir even as his health worsens and tensions become more apparent at court. more political action is taken here with the starks declaring for rhaenyra in any matters of succession much earlier - working counter to this is a little already-formed cluster of northern houses that kind of band together under the boltons with the help of some marriage ties and general disagreements with the starks (ie ysabel + cayn's dad is married to a manderly, cayn eventually gets betrothed to a karstark before the starks can snap them up a generation later as they do in canon). with the north kind of silently divided the greens reach out with the intent to form an alliance there with the promise that the boltons will be given the spot as wardens of the north when the war eventually ends knowing full well when viserys kicks the bucket things are going to spiral without question . they accept and head down south - which obviously makes for even more tensions considering they're still stark bannermen . everyone is a little bit or more than a little bit mad at each other and viserys dies and things spiral as usual .

ysabel marries aemond to secure that northern alliance , goes to storms end and promises daeron + lands and wealth to make up for the fact he can't marry one of borros daughters himself, lucerys dies etc and well ........... i need to iron out some wrinkles . <3

as for their relationships obviously as mentioned ysabel marries aemond and its Weird . she really likes him but in a weird almost obsessive way . watches him from afar before they even get introduced officially and sits awake at night and stares at him and i think part of it is because she doesn't know how to approach . wants to be affectionate and loving but also wants things to be on her own terms while also knowing that the circumstances (WAR) doesn't allow for that to the extent she wants so she's at a loss at what to do . which manifests in Being strange . with both these relationships there's a touch of strange hunter prey dynamics and here its definitely more laid back than with cayn and aegon . you watch from afar but never strike . you learn someone's patterns and habits and the threat of having that used against you is always present but te tension only ever builds and never comes to a peak .

because ysabel is very tall and slender and kind of gangly she struggles a lot with pregnancy and when they eventually do have a child it's a girl . which she's intensely conflicted about . you have a child put in your arms and theres a moment of complete joy that turns just as quickly into horror because she believes so firmly that a son would have been what makes her husband and her family happier . sort of anne boelyn esque . she ends up with health issues and a line of lost pregnancies after that before having a son who is incredibly weak and sickly and doesn't make it into adulthood . horrorshow in the capital here

cayn and aegon ........... scratches my chin. on account of being gay in westeros it's obviously very different . aegon is married and cayn is betrothed and still i think cayn meets him and it's a case of well i will die before i give up being able to be with you . they're kind of similar on the surface in that they bond over sort of skipping out on court duties and prefer to spend time out in king's landing . a lot of watching aegon give out his attention to others freely and getting nothing in return (because shockingly you have to initiate sometimes instead of staring at someone you like longingly and looking like a creep) . again that sense of not knowing how to approach just like ysabel . a slow buildup of shared glances and mutual want that you both know will never be okay to anyone but the two of you . cayn wants to hunt and kill him and tear him apart and make out sloppy with him because it's all he can do to show that affection . violence in place of love in a society that would never accept your happiness .

when that hurdle of Figuring out they're both a little homo for each other is crossed they're definitely more direct than ysabel and aemond . very heavy handed physical affection moreso than verbal or emotional signs. rip at each others flesh but never express all the things you'd do for each other . share desperate fumbling kisses in some back alley but don't begin to think about what it might be like to run off and never be seen again or how differently youd be able to see each other if one of you happened to be a woman . i <3 medieval homosexuality !

THAT'S ABOUT ALL. sorry this was a whole load of nothing but i loved getting to ramble about them . final notes are some design pointers

the little eyes on the necklace ysabel wears + the eye on the armour design i did for cayn is meant to be similar to 18th century lover's eye jewelry! : -) essentially a form of affection in literally carrying a lover's gaze with you . i think it's very bolton esque

cayn has a little gold ring to tie back to aegon . and the earring is meant to look like a drop of blood

the armour is his dad's . he dies like halfway through the war and i think it's very telling to have the deeply imperfect son don his dad's fit after he dies . bad fathers who haunt their children etc

he does go off to fight in the war as well hence the scars and the hair . loses parts of his arm as well as parts of his face (lip + his eye is injured so he doesn't see very well) . unfortunately the rat tail had to go but it pains me as well

the white gown instead of black for mourning i think was mostly just for aesthetics (tough to fit with the dark background) but also has SOME intent behind it . atp ysabel ends up barely existing as a person properly as per what war does to someone especially when they're already struggling - it's meant to be a nightgown because she rarely gets dressed beyond that . white was also historically a mourning colour in specific countries in specific eras of history and i do really like that . gives sort of sad miserable ghost in the castle vibes idk

#aghh much longer than i meant it to be but this is the only place i have anything summarized for them so i guess its ok #thank u again for the interest <3 #oc tag #txt #asks #asoiaf #asoiaf oc

[crowwritesaway]

Requests are Open.

#btvs x reader #btvs spike #spike x you #spike x reader #yandere idol #yandere albert wesker #yandere resident evil #thomas shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x oc #yandere idol x reader #yandere x female reader #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman x reader

[horror102]

Submission!

Things I do and don’t.

Things I do write for

Student X teacher- Just because it’s a weird fantasy and only high school 18 X teacher I’ve gotten a request many times and I refuse to do any 16 year old students or 17 only the age above legal law.

Fictional Serial killer X reader- Only fictional serial killers I will not be writing a fan fiction of Ted bunch, jeffery Dhamer, John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, or anything’s real serial killer wise.

Any type of fandoms!

Undertale fandom, WWE fandom, Horror fandom, supernatural fandom, Dc fandom, Marvel fandom, Game fandom, Movie fandom, Peoples oc’s X a certain character. Just anything! Anime fandom, Cartoon fandom, Greek gods, ANYTHING! <3 red dead redemption, Cod , YouTubers only ones who allow, TWD, TVD, GTA, Fast food, fnaf , Disney , the avatar,

Things I don’t and won’t do.

Incest

Pedophilia

Non-con

Rape

Abusive relationships with a character that’s the love interest.

Urine/feces

Warnings I do

Fluff

Smut

Angst

Limes

Lemons 

Fandoms I won’t write for.

Harry Potter- It’s mostly just a bunch of weird adults crushing on teenagers

YouTubers who’ve stated they don’t want smut written about them, only ones that don’t care. But if it’s fluff it’s fine

Scooby doo- Only when it’s the live action it’s okay but when there supposedly teens nah. unless it’s fluff.

Going angst someone’s religion or adding satanism in a story.- only because it goes against some characters I write like Jacob Goodnight

Specific characters I do.

Michael myers

Jason voorhees

Jacob goodnight

Patrick Bateman

Hannibal Lecter

Leather face

Candy man

Pearl

Carrie

Chucky

Jennifer Tilly

Freddy Krueger

Ghostfaces

Pinhead

Pyramid head

Pennywise

Art the clown

Harry warden

Gabriel may

Norman Bates

Billy Lenz

Bo Sinclair

Lester Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Horror

Sally face

Sally face

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Supernatural

Stefan Salvatore

Damon Salvatore

Elijah Mikealson

Klaus Mikealson

Mason Lockwood

Kai Parker

TVD

Negan

Rick

Carl

TWD

Simon Riley

Soap

Konig

Cod

Thor

Loki

Captain America

Venom

Deadpool

Marvel

Batman

Superman

Joker

Dick Grayson

The flash

Beast boy

Superboy

Spider noir

Dc

Roman reigns

Dolph Zigger

Randy Orton

Batista

Razor Ramon

Drew McIntyre

Kane

Undertaker

Mankind

Seth Rollins

Dean Ambrose

Shawn Michaels 

Triple H

Diesel

WWE

Sans

Papyrus

Undertale

Naruto uzumaki

Kakashi Hatake

Jiraiya

Asuma sensei

Erwin smith

Reiner Braun

Hercules

Poseidon

Connie springer

Kisame

Coach Ukai

Asahi- Haikyu

Sniper mask

Anime

The hand- Wednesday

Freaky Fred

Scar

Mufasa

Cartoon

Ronald mc Donald

Burger King

Jack in the box

Fast food

Spring trap

Bonnie

Foxy

Freddy faze bear

Monty

Michael afton

Fnaf

Franklin

Michael

GTA

Beast

Prince neaven

Any Disney prince fr <3

Disney

Anything on my list, or in the fandoms I write for I forgot I couple if there’s any you think I might like hit me up! <3

Tags I do

Daddy issues

Older men

Sugar daddy

Sugar mommy

Milf

Dilf

Smut

Angst

Fluff

Age gap

#slasher community #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #slasher fucker #slashers #black reader #bo sinclair x reader #wwe imagine #wwe smut #wwe x reader #undertale #supernatural #dc universe #marvel #Game X reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #oc #anime fanfic #cartoon #Greek gods #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption arthur #youtubers #sally face #twd negan #Twd #tvd fandom #fnaf #jack in the box