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makeyoumine69 · 17 days

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My Lovely Detective III

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

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

— WORDS: 2.7k

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

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

The Fall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But his punishment came only seconds later.

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

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

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

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finalgirlbee · 7 months

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danny stop being a creep for two seconds challenge (impossible)

#my art #ghostface #danny johnson #ghostface dbd #ghostface x oc #self insert #self ship #dead by daylight #the ghostface #suggestive #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher community #slasher x oc #dont LOOK at me

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capybar00 · 1 year

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" Despite his criminal mind, this man is behaving well. His reward is the canoe, this time he can sit in the canoe for up to an hour. "

Decided to do another one of these draw-overs just because they're fun, of course I referenced it off Brahms Heelshire's actual actor, James Russell!

(picture credit goes to ilincavalentina on instagram)

Here's a link to an previous draw-over I did, but it's old and I did it on my phone so the quality is 📉

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loganscyangutspill · 7 months

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More of my oc smooching Bubba because I just read his character description in dbd...

Pls let me give this man a hug and a kiss and a whole fucking world my bby bubu boy

#i'm not crying you're crying #I know that probably everyone knows this in-game description but I just looked at it recently #leatherface #dbd leatherface #bubba sawyer #bubba leatherface #tcm bubba #slasher x oc #oc #my art #dbd #I won't be an outsider if he lets me get inside (him)#my bubba 💕

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ahmnom · 1 year

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Y’all ever just wanna… just wanna-

Yea….

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bebblejooce · 1 year

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thought i’d share my interpretation of michael :3

hes basically my oc at this point

#michael myers #slasher x oc #caseymichael #oc x canon #slasher oc #slashers

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circus-bell · 4 months

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My baby my babyyy ✨♥️

#pennywise #it #fanart #drawings #pennywisexoc #selfshipper #selfinsert x canon #slasher fucker #slasher x oc #chibi

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hunterssm00n · 5 months

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Three Minutes

Same as before, now from Tommy's POV. | Tommy Hewitt/OC |

full (ish) story is on my AO3: here

and some other shorts/drabbles on the same story/characters: here

*cw smutty situations* MDNI - 18+

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

So baby, I'll take whatever it is you've got to give / Yeah I'm calling dibs

As soon as the hall light winked out under the door, Tommy glanced at his clock and began the countdown until he knew he would hear the pitter patter of her feet coming down the hallway towards his room.

Trying to relax, or rather, to calm himself in advance, he laid his head back on the pillow and took a couple of deep breaths. She might stop her little midnight treks to his room if he pounced on her when she first came through the door. He didn't want her to stop coming in at all - his favorite parts of the day were the moments he got to spend with her. And what they'd been doing in his room at night... He shuddered just thinking about it. He didn't want that to stop either.

Tommy glanced over at the clock on the nightstand next to his bed: 10:16pm. Only two minutes had gone by. Damn.

Every creak that the old house made he thought was her sneaking down early to see him. And at every one of those little noises, his body would tense, like he was ready to jump up off the bed and tackle her should she step into the room. It was like an animalistic urge. Tommy didn't think she would mind too much if he gave in to the urge, but at the same time, he didn't want to scare her enough that she would want to stop visiting him at night. He was much bigger and much stronger than her; he could easily overpower her if he wanted. He didn't want to make her afraid of him... There was definitely nothing frightening about what he wanted to do to her.

Shifting, Tommy glanced at the clock again: 10:18. Almost there, come on.

He thought about last night, and what they had done to each other. The memory was so visceral, he could practically feel her hands on him, stroking and touching every inch of him. He could practically feel her breath on his face, smell her sweet scent all around him. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of his body. When she'd grabbed him there, he thought he was either gonna explode, or lose control. That had been shocking to him - something he totally hadn't expected. Not at that exact moment, at least. He, much like her, was also a virgin. He'd never even kissed anyone until her; and now he never wanted to kiss anyone else, either.

He loved having her in his bed; messing up the sheets, messing up each other's clothes, kissing each other, touching each other, just laying there doing absolutely nothing - it didn't matter what they did together; only the fact that they were together mattered. Thinking about last night, Tommy could see himself forming an addiction to what they had done, and to what else they could do from there.

They'd been kissing hungrily, gripping each others backs, faces, necks, hands... anything they could grab onto. At at particularly gentle kiss from her, followed by her lightly sucking on his bottom lip, he'd felt a surge of a lustful, animalistic sensation. With a growl, he rolled her onto her back, his hands sliding underneath her body to hold her close. He gently bit her neck, relishing in her whimpering in his ear, and the feel of her gripping his back... and then there was a hand on him. Tommy jumped in surprise, like an electrical current had gone through his whole body. He'd thought his pants couldn't' feel any tighter, but then they did. He'd looked at her in surprise, and he noticed that she was also looking at him with the same mirrored emotion. Instinctively, she had grabbed him - his 'Johnson', as Uncle Hoyt crudely called it - in this midst of their kissing, and for a moment she looked like she didn't know what to do. Tommy knew that there was absolutely nothing she could do wrong. Not to him. He could sense her insecurity, and he pushed himself further into her hands. He wanted her to know that no matter what she did, he would enjoy it. Everything she did enamored him completely. There was nothing she could do wrong in his eyes. Her admission of never having done this before did not make him any less sure of her abilities. If anything, it got him even hotter. He was going to be her first just as much as she was going to be his. Perfect didn't even begin to describe this.

Slowly, they had stripped off each other's clothes, touching everywhere they could reach, and kissing all the time. He wanted her so badly; he knew she could see his desperation. He'd never held anything so beautiful, so perfect. She was everything to him. Experimental touches and caresses led to moans and giggles that they both tried to keep down. Tommy knew Momma and Uncle Hoyt probably wouldn't mind too much that they were doing this, but he still wanted to keep it a secret, at least for now. Plus, it was more fun sneaking around in the dark. He'd never experienced anything like this before, and it made his large palms sweat and his heart pound hard in his chest. And, other things hard as well.

She'd stroked him up and down, using both of her hands, and his head bowed down to rest on her shoulder, feeling himself grow closer and closer to release. He hadn't known anything could feel this good, and if he wasn't so turned on he would've been embarrassed by where his thoughts were going. What else could feel this good, maybe even better? Being inside her... how would that feel? Better than her hands? Was that even possible?

"Tommy? Does this feel okay? I hope you like it..."

Damn. Her voice whispering in his ear would've finished him if her hands hadn't been about to do it first. Just when he'd been on the edge; the sweet precipice before the freefall, he quickly sat up and grasped her tiny wrists between his massive hands, halting her movements. He hadn't wanted to be done yet. Not before he made her feel good. He had raised her arms above her head and leaned down to kiss her gently on the lips, soothing the confusion in her eyes. It had felt so good, too good. He had to stop her before she made him crash over the edge too soon.

Now it was his turn to give her the same feeling.

He touched her everywhere, all over her sacred, perfect body, soft skin feeling like velvet against his calloused fingers. Tommy had hoped he would be able to please her - all he wanted was to make her happy, to make her feel good like she did to him. He, himself, had almost creamed his pants at the sound of her sweet orgasm, her pitiful noises driving him crazy to the point where for a moment, he thought he was going to lose control and just take her right there. It was actually easier to please her than he thought it would be, much to his relief. It was because of his normal attentiveness to her that he was able to please her, as he was used to carefully watching her face to see her expressions; what made her happy, what made her laugh, what made her look at him like he was the best thing she'd ever laid eyes on. Now it was similar, but slightly different: he watched her face to see what made her sigh, what made her gasp, what made her moan though she tried to muffle the noise into the pillow her head leaned back on. He wished she didn't have to be quiet - he wanted to hear all of her noises. Especially since he was causing them.

He had been about ready to blow by the time she'd put her hands back on him; listening to her and watching her writhe underneath him had really done him in. He was so riled up, it didn't take much for her to finish him off. So much came out of him; much more than when he used his own hand (thinking about her, of course). He'd emptied himself on her chest and stomach, white, thick creaminess coating practically her entire front. She knew exactly how to touch him; much like he did with her, she paid very careful attention to him. It warmed his heart to know that she cared so much about him, just like he cared for her. If he hadn't been so satisfied, and exhausted, he would've been embarrassed at the amount of his liquid on her, but he couldn't bring himself to care in that moment. Mostly because he could tell that she didn't mind; if anything, she'd looked very pleased with herself for bringing forth such a reaction from him. God, he loved her.

Hefting an impatient sigh and pulling himself from his daydream, Tommy looked over at the clock once again - it had to be time by now, right? Just as he glanced at the clock face, his door very slowly creaked open. He gripped onto the sheets on either side of him, as though he were physically holding himself down to the bed to keep from jumping up and running to her. He didn't think he could wait another second. Her beautiful face appeared, and the breath was nearly all expelled from his lungs when she smiled at him. Quietly, she tiptoed into the room and closed the door behind her, never taking her eyes off of him. He could see her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, much like his own was as well. "Hi, Tommy," she whispered. He sat up in the bed, beckoning for her to come to him with his large hands. He wanted to feel her so badly.

She was wearing a robe, and smiling slyly at him, she untied the front deliberately, and pulled the robe open to reveal nothing underneath. Tommy could feel his jaw drop, and his brain fizzle for a moment before raw lust immediately took over, and he had to really hold himself back from jumping up now. What was she doing to him?!

Playfully, she licked her lips at him, and let the robe fall to the floor. "You ready, big boy?" God, was he ever.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

AN: I do not own the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise or any of it's characters, but Renae is my own OC. I also do not own the song 'Dibs' by Kelsea Ballerini.

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general-nerdy · 7 months

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HERE WE GO!

#jason voorhees #jason voorhes x reader #jason voorhees x you #jason voorhees x oc #friday the 13th #against the world #general nerdy writes #horror #slasher #slashers #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x oc

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myersobsession · 2 months

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poor girlie has to babysit her menace of a bf

#1978 michael myers #halloween 1978 #michael myers #halloween oc #michael myers art #artwork #oc x canon #slasher x oc #slasher oc

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makeyoumine69 · 26 days

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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.’

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