dontdothisever

[dontdothisever]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝟓.𝟎

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: Sometimes, jealousy can lead you into the most unexpected situations. But one thing Bateman was sure of—he’d never let you use the twisted feelings he had for you. At the end of the day, your so-called relationship was just a wicked game… or at least, he hoped so. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW, smut, heavy Daddy kink, unhealthy relationships, mild dub-con (????/probably), oral sex (f), masturbation, body worship, nipple play, a lot of spanking, choking, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, degradation, humiliation, mild dacryphilia, jealousy, Patrick is possessive af, power dynamics, ripped clothes, finger sucking, pet names, dirty talk and I hope I haven't forgotten anything but I could have! :D 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.2k 𝐀/𝐍: We're so back with this series! I finally finished the new chapter, and I missed writing Daddy kink so much that I want to cry, lmao. I hope you like it! I was inspired by Miley Cyrus's song "Nothing Breaks Like a Heart." You can find links to the series masterlist and the previous chapter at the end of the work.

It wasn't even jealousy he felt; in fact, it was something beyond his spectrum of emotions—a strange sensation he couldn't trace.

Sitting on the plush couch in your office, Patrick watched you sip the freshly brewed coffee, the white steam from the small mug wafting around your face, lending you an even more mysterious air than usual. And somehow, your deceptively calm posture as you sat at your desk, legs crossed, annoyed him even more than the intrusive presence of his lawyer. And even though Harold was probably one of the best lawyers in New York City, if Bateman had a chance to pry his eyes out of their sockets right here and now, he would do it without a second thought to stop that bastard from ogling you as if he had some inherent right. But hell no, he fucking didn't. For some reason, fantasies of you lounging around his apartment wearing one of his designer shirts didn't seem so weird to him anymore—they brought some semblance of comfort, and that was truly strange.

"So what's the matter, Bateman?" Carnes' crackling voice broke the silence, causing both of you to snap your heads his way. "I don't recall you making this appointment."

Rolling his eyes, Bateman started to get up from the couch. The instant he noticed some creases on Harold's suit, from an old D&G collection, Patrick wrinkled his nose, barely suppressing his disdain.

"Well, you're my lawyer for a reason," he explained, stretching out his arms in an eloquent gesture. Even though Patrick looked relaxed, his gaze remained fixed on you throughout. "A man who can help me solve any kind of problem. Especially some urgent ones."

The haze of mystery woven around his words didn't go unnoticed—it made you feel queasy, but you chose to remain an observer, watching the situation unfold. With a grace polished to perfection, you set the cup down on your desk, involuntarily thinking about the mess Patrick might have gotten himself into. The fact that you were slightly worried about him, however, left a bitter taste on your tongue. 

When did you truly start to care?

"Get to the point," Harold quickly lit a cigarette and leaned against your table, obscuring your view. Your hands clenched into fists under the desk in frustration, but your lips remained sealed. "What happened?"

Perplexed, Bateman brushed some invisible dust off his suit before reclining back on the couch with his arms crossed. "This is, uh, for your ears only." He glanced over the lawyer's shoulder, imagining your disappointed face, his lips curled into a sly grin. He was almost annoyed that fucker Carnes was obstructing his view of you. "I won't take much time."

Blowing out a puff of smoke, Harold turned to cast a brief glare at you before pushing himself off the table and walking toward his office, waving to Patrick to follow. Bateman didn't need to be asked twice—his tall, immaculate figure captivated your attention, compelling you to watch him stroll around your office as if he were the king of this place, this situation, this...world? Frowning, you expected him to utter something, but instead, the man just winked before disappearing behind the black wooden door.

You knew it would be a huge mistake to come to his office the next day, but you did it anyway—thrilled and a little unhinged in your own "fascinating" way. At least, that's what Bateman always called it. He thought it was romantic. You hated it.

The air inside his office was fresh and cold, just like always. Luckily, Jean was on her break—and you knew that wasn’t just a coincidence. So, when Patrick sprang up from his leather armchair and rushed toward you the second he saw you in the doorway, you knew you were doomed. His sturdy arms wrapped around you in an instant. The dark blue suspenders carved into his perfectly shaped torso as he pulled you closer, maneuvering you against his desk.

"Did you call me here for this?" you asked between shaky breaths as he grazed your neck. You could barely stop yourself from tugging on his red Armani tie and watching him choke in shock.

Bateman scoffed, nuzzling your face like a touch-starved animal. "You don’t get to ask why I call you—or what for."

Fucker.

Suddenly, you pressed your palms to his broad chest and felt his heart pounding beneath the expensive shirt. For a moment, the two of you locked eyes, panting and agitated. For you, though, the latter was more a problem than a thrill.

"And you don’t get to talk to me like that, Patrick," you barked when he leaned in to steal a kiss. "I’m not your property."

"Oh, really?"

You turned your head to dodge his lips, but his patience snapped. Instead of playing along, Bateman seized a fistful of your hair and yanked you closer by the nape of your neck.

The kiss was rough, passionate, and desperate—literally draining.

"You seem to have forgotten something, baby," he murmured into your ear, his hands toying with the waistband of your black pencil skirt. "If it weren’t for me, you’d still be there. In the pool of dirt where I found you."

You wanted to slap him—and almost did—but he caught your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. Still, you yanked it away with pure disdain.

"If the middle class is dirt to you, we have nothing to talk about. We don’t need to see each other. Don’t stain your hands." You delivered those words like a slap. Your voice was drenched in venom—the tone you saved for assholes like Patrick.

Bateman stepped back with a sly smirk, giving you the illusion of control in whatever twisted dynamic existed between you two.

"Carnes gave you that salary only because I asked him to," he murmured, tucking his hands into his pockets and letting his eyes glide over your collarbone, where the top button of your blouse strained with tension. "In New York City, networking is just as crucial as talent."

"I didn’t ask you for this," you snapped, folding your arms across your chest and blocking his view. Patrick’s face darkened, and you liked it. "Mr. Carnes appreciates my hard work."

Patrick couldn’t help but chuckle, the mockery in his voice sharp as a blade. "Mr. Carnes..." he echoed, pacing the office anxiously. "You know I could make you lose this job so fucking easily?"

Before you could respond, he was already next to you, towering over you, making you feel small. The scent of his Paul Sebastian cologne engulfed you like a trap. You wanted to shove him back, but his hand was already under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Then, without a word, he pressed his mouth to yours. Raw and brutal. Possessive—just the way he liked it. You didn’t have a say in the matter; your body was already on fire without your consent.

How the hell did he do that?

Infuriated, you grabbed his shoulders, crumpling his shirt beneath your fingers. Then, you lightly bit his lower lip, which drew a low growl from deep in his throat. Instead of turning him off, it only fueled his lust. He couldn’t—and didn’t want to—stop, even if you tried to protest.

"Carnes is a fucking dickweed," he muttered, barely coherent, burying his face in the curve of your neck. His movements were calculated and deliberate as he undressed you with surgical precision, starting with the buttons of your beige flannel blouse. "I hate him."

You closed your eyes and breathed unevenly. Heat coiled in your lower belly like a ticking bomb. When Bateman lifted you slightly, you didn’t resist, letting him place you on his desk. Some of his belongings tumbled to the floor with a dull thud, but he didn’t care. He was too deep into the moment. 

Too fucking deep.

"Is jealousy speaking through you, Daddy?" you asked softly, leaning back on trembling hands and clinging to the smooth tabletop.

Your question made him pause—his dark brown eyes searched your face as if you’d insulted him. 

Maybe you had.

"No need to flatter yourself," he replied, his voice tight and dry, offering a wry smile that spoke volumes—you’d hit a nerve. Bruised his ego, maybe unintentionally, maybe not. "And don’t call me ‘Daddy’ unless I allow it."

"Scary." You teased him with a foxy smirk playing at your lips. "Very scary, Daddy."

A sharp, shredding sound pierced the room like a bolt of lightning—the small, shimmering buttons scattered across the table. Your nipples perked up the moment the cold air hit them. He practically yanked up your black bra, and you had to stifle a loud moan when his fingers found both nipples, pinching and twisting them.

"Mm—fuck," you murmured under your breath, lying flat on your back and gripping his hands over your breasts. "You’re such a perv."

Bateman chuckled and slipped his hands away to loosen his tight suspenders. "And you’re the one telling me that," he purred. He licked his lips like a starved cat as he watched you open your legs—teasing him without even realizing it. "Such a filthy little plaything."

As if to prove his point, he bunched your skirt around your waist, revealing the black stockings that drove him wild every time. Then he shoved a finger into your mouth, nearly bruising the roof, but you took it anyway—mewling around it, your hands wrapped around his like a vine, until he lost interest and pulled it away.

"You know… I like you being jealous," you whispered with a breathy laugh, eyes fixed on the white ceiling. "It makes me feel special."

Patrick was too focused on unzipping his pants to respond. Maybe you were right—but if he felt anything close to what you implied, he wouldn’t admit it. He didn’t want you weaponizing the sentiment he might have for you.

The rustle of fabric filled the space around you, mingling with your ragged breathing. Frowning in focus, he tugged his pants down far enough for his cock to spring free from his designer briefs. He was already leaking from the tip, flushed and angry red. Before giving himself a few firm strokes, he slapped his shaft against your still-covered pussy, already slick with your arousal.

"Look at this cunt, literally begging for my cock," Patrick rasped, brushing his thumb just above your clit. That move was nothing but fucking torture.

Sweet torture, with a bitter aftertaste.

With slow, circular motions, he rubbed his thumb against your sensitive spot. He didn’t remove your underwear until it was completely soaked and barely covering anything. Patrick’s eyes were pitch black; his pupils had devoured the irises. He couldn’t stop admiring the growing dark patch on your panties beneath his finger.

"Little one," he murmured, stroking himself slowly, careful not to overdo it. "Do you know what really makes you special?"

You blinked at his words, lifting your head to meet his smoldering gaze. "What?"

He smirked and slipped several fingers beneath your lacy underwear. The black fabric stretched taut—and then you wailed when he finally touched your bare flesh, massaging your soaked folds. Pinching. Toying with your oversensitive bundle of nerves.

"Your stubbornness," he whispered, lowering suddenly to kiss your mound just above the waistband. Then he swiped his tongue across your slit, right through the drenched fabric. "I don’t usually like bratty girls, but you… you’re really special," Patrick breathed against your pussy, inhaling your musky scent. Then he moved your panties aside and feasted on you like a beast. "Fuck, you taste so good, honey. So–fucking–good."

The sound that tore from your throat was somewhere between a groan and a desperate cry. You were disgusted by your own surrender—your body wouldn’t listen, giving in too easily. And there was nothing you could do about it. If there was a locket inside you, Bateman definitely had the key.

"I… I hate you," you choked out, grasping his head and bucking your hips to meet the rhythm of his tongue. "And your dirty fucking mouth… uh!"

He tugged at your clit hard, clawing that moan right out of you. When your legs started to tremble in a weak attempt to close, he held you wide open.

Patrick tsked as he pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Uh-uh. Lying to Daddy isn’t what a good girl should do."

He slapped your blushing pussy again—this time landing squarely on your swollen bud—and a raw, pitiful wail escaped your lips.

Oh God, yes.

That sound delighted him. It coaxed him to do it again, but instead, he ramped up the tension by wrapping his hand around your throat, choking you just enough to make you even more intoxicated than you already were.

"Touch yourself," Patrick commanded, voice clipped, his eyes locked on your furrowed brows as he resumed stroking himself—smearing remnants of your arousal along his shaft. "Nice and slow. Until I say stop."

Huffing, you writhed on the slightly sticky desk. "Make me."

Grinning devilishly, he hiked your legs up, lifting your ass off the table, and spanked you hard—so hard that stars flashed behind your eyes. Then again. And again. One time, you felt the metal of his Rolex dig into your skin, but you didn’t beg him to stop. On the contrary, you were so fucking close to collapsing.

"Dirty whore! You like it when I treat you like that, huh? You like that?" Patrick growled, using his hand like a paintbrush, marking your body.

No place was spared. Your hips, mound, ass, and breasts all stung so badly that tears welled in the corners of your eyes. With a heavy exhale, you slid your shaky hand down to where your slickness was practically pooling on the desk. At first, you hesitated—but then you started rubbing yourself frantically. Your legs trembled, just like the rest of you.

You were teetering on the verge of falling apart. Biting your bottom lip, you panted through your nostrils, your heart pounding painfully in your chest—you were so close to orgasm.

"Fuck me," you barely managed, your words tangled in a mess of choked-up noises. "Fuck me, Daddy, please!"

Patrick didn’t react. He just stood there, hovering over you, lazily jacking off as he watched the show. Your fingers moved so erratically, it almost made him laugh.

"Did you just beg me to fuck you, or did I mishear?" His voice dripped with satisfaction and arrogance—gushing with superiority. "Say it again, louder, so I can hear you."

Shit, shit, shit.

It was hard to think, hard to breathe, impossible to speak. All you could focus on was his fat cock—you needed it like air. You promised yourself you’d reflect on this later, but God, his smug attitude was unbearable.

Next time, you wouldn’t let yourself fall into this trap.

How many times had you told yourself that?

Fuck this!

Literally.

Fuck this! Fuck him! 

You needed him to fuck you—badly.

"For fuck’s sake!" you shouted, glaring up at him. "Just fuck me already! I know you want it too!"

When you expected punishment, he instead checked the time on his expensive watch. Then he hummed and briefly glanced at the door.

"Fine," he muttered—and it scared the shit out of you. "Jean will be back any moment. You better pray we finish before that happens—unless you want an audience."

"Fuck you–"

He turned you roughly onto your side, pressing your legs together and folding your knees, curling you up on the desk.

"Lie like that," he said coldly, "and don’t fucking scratch the wood with your nails."

In a fleeting moment, he stuffed your wet pussy with his cock, facing no resistance. Your insides met his cock with delirious tightness and warmth. He was so consumed by this sensation that he was not sure he could last long. The wet, obscene sounds accompanying his thrusts were the most delicious music he could have dreamed of. He should have recorded it to listen to during his workdays when you were away, but now he was going to fuck the breath right out of you. Until you were nothing but a wet pile of flesh, tears, and limbs.

"D-Daddy," you breathed, clawing at your own hand, eyes focused on the small window next to the closed door. Sometimes it seemed like you could see Jean's workplace through the blinds. "I'm gonna cum, fuck, Daddy, so deep, fuck!"

"Keep crying like that," he gasped, gripping the soft mound of your ass with one hand while using another to press you down onto the table. "You were made to take my cock...mmhm–fuck…"

Bateman barely registered undoing his shirt and loosening his tie, now draped over his shoulder like some useless trash. He looked absolutely disheveled and flustered from the overbearing heat, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. His brown hair obscured his face, thick brows knitted together as your inner walls gripped him, milking him dry.

"Aw, please, I—" you muttered, almost biting your tongue in a shockwave of pleasure that left you speechless and temporarily blinded.

Patrick grunted and didn't stop fucking you, even when your pussy clamped down on him like a tight ring that pulsated. He knew he was going to fill it with his cum until it flowed out. The mere thought sent tingles to the base of his balls, and he slammed back into you more fiercely. He was ready to put his foot on the table and fuck you deeper, but when he saw your dazed gaze—how you looked at him so pitifully, completely ruined—it sent him over the edge.

"Argh—fuck—fuck!" Bateman squeezed your hip harshly, bordering on brutal.

As he filled you with warm, thick ropes of cum, your gaze remained fixed on him. At some point, the image of him lost in an overwhelming momentum of pleasure became your special kind of turn-on. Patrick gasped exhaustedly and threw his head back, relishing how every inch of his body buzzed with pure, unfiltered bliss. It started at the base of his spine, spreading throughout his body like a crashing wave of warmth.

Your pussy must have been designed specifically for him—he could fucking swear it.

"Pull out already," you whispered, jolting him back to reality. "Patrick?!"

"Shush," he retorted, his eyes still firmly closed, his breath ragged and uneven. "Don't talk."

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back on your elbow. "You look like you're going to start crying at any second," you mumbled.

The instant you made that remark, Bateman pulled you up. But, to your surprise, he didn't slap you; instead, he kissed you on the lips and buried his fingers in your messy hair. Unsure how to react, you simply allowed him his moment, his tongue deep inside your mouth.

Could this man actually keep his tongue to himself at least once?

You barely suppressed a giggle at that thought when several soft knocks echoed around the office, emanating from outside your heated cubicle. Both of you froze, looking into each other's confused eyes like two idiots.

"Patrick, may I come in?" Jean's soft voice muffled through the door.

Unfazed, your gaze remained set on the downward-tilting doorknob—a silent threat. You were about to snap the table in half when Patrick pressed you down harder and covered your mouth with his palm.

The door clicked with the most mocking sound you had ever heard.

…

Thank you for the reading!🖤 Please follow my writing community or my side-blog to know when I update! [Ch.4]🪓[Daddy Knows Best M-LIST]🪓[MAIN M-LIST]🪓[KO-FI]

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Christian Bale photographed by Kerry Hayes as Patrick Bateman in ‘American Psycho’ (2000).

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more of the chainsaw scene

credits: Kerry Hayes

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Hey! Random question, but do you think Patrick would be capable of genuinely loving his own kids?

𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: A quiet morning, a shift in breath, a memory lingering like smoke. He holds what matters most, humming softly while the past and future blur. Some moments don't need words—just warmth, and the will to be better. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Husband!Patrick Bateman x Wife!Fem!Reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Domestic fluff, established relationships, Patrick being a girl dad. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: Less than 1k 𝐀/𝐍: Hello! I hope you like this small drabble, I plan to post headcanon about Patrick being a girl dad soon as well! I was inspired by Ellie Goulding's song "Lights." Many thanks to the amazing @mothhmannn for creating this heartwarming piece of art featuring Patrick and his baby girl.

Patrick woke up early. Driven by instinct, he quickly rolled over to check on you and the baby resting on your chest. Gently, he traced an elegant finger along your cheek, then did the same for his little prince—his precious daughter, his everything, his greatest and most priceless treasure.

He could vividly remember the days before she was born—how nervous he used to get whenever you had ultrasounds and doctor appointments. Bateman would never admit it, but sometimes he was genuinely scared that something might go wrong, and he wouldn’t know how to help.

Feeling helpless—that frightened him the most.

Now, with both of you snoring softly beside him, those days felt like a distant nightmare. Every sleepless night, every heart-to-heart conversation you'd shared had been worth it.

Patrick smiled to himself as he recalled that night in Newport. It had been a hot summer evening, the two of you sitting on the terrace, watching the midnight sky glimmer with stars scattered like shards of glass. He remembered your quiet fears about giving birth—and what would happen if you didn’t make it. You had asked him to take care of the baby no matter what. That was the part he hated most.

Because the thought of losing either of you hurt more than anything else in the world. Without you, his life would lose its color, its meaning, and his motivation to be better. Still, Patrick knew he could never truly be the kind of man you deserved. But he promised himself one thing: to be a better father than the one he had.

He was ready to do whatever it took to give his little princess the best life possible.

While Patrick was busy reminiscing about the past, you shifted slightly—just enough to wake the baby. A soft, barely audible fuss pulled him out of his thoughts, and he instinctively reached out, lifting his daughter from your arms into his sturdy embrace.

"Shh," he murmured, soothing her as he sat up and leaned against the pillow. "I’m here."

You were caught somewhere between waking and sleep, but when you heard Patrick’s deep voice singing a soft, sweet lullaby, you opened one eye. For a while, you simply watched them—your husband and the embodiment of your love.

With one smooth motion, you rolled onto your side and placed your hand on Patrick’s broad chest, just beside the baby. “You have such a nice voice. Did I ever tell you that?”

Patrick almost choked when he realized you were awake. Blinking nervously, he gave a light cough before daring to meet your gaze.

"Morning, honey." His cat-like grin widened as you leaned in, kissed his lips, and then covered the top of the baby’s head in tiny pecks.

"You look so sweet when you sleep like that," he whispered, cradling the baby and lulling her back to sleep with a kiss on her temple. "Did I ever tell you that?"

Thank you for the reading!🖤 Please follow my writing community or my side-blog to know when I update! [MAIN M-LIST]🪓[MY IMAGINES ABOUT PATRICK]🪓[KO-FI]

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Another day, another bts pic 🥵

credits: @christianbale.fans on ig

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Christian Bale as John Preston in Equilibrium (2002) dir. Kurt Wimmer

(christianbalefanatic edit)

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Touch in the Night

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: How gentle Patrick's touch feels when you know how rough he can be.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: NSFW, smut, Patrick is obsessed(as always), possessive behavior, unprotected p in v sex(doggy and vague prone bone), implied body worship, mentions of spanking, overstimulation and Patrick being sadistic, pet names, dirty talk.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: <1k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: Silent Circle — Touch in the Night🔥

𝐀/𝐍: Hello, everyone! This prompt won the poll, and I hope you like it! Many thanks to my dear @moriohpsyker for proofreading!💕

Please follow my writing community or my side-blog to know when I update!

You could hear the muffled rustle of wrinkled sheets and feel the mattress dip beneath your knees. You could feel his sweaty abs clinging to your ass each time he thrusts inside you. All of this had become too familiar—more than you could have ever imagined—to the point that you couldn’t tell where his nerves ended and yours began as you moved together in sync like a perfect mechanism, every detail inseparable and irreplaceable. It was both too much and not enough when it came to the both of you. Every time you had sex—or "make love", as you preferred to call it—you could easily get lost in the moment. You gave everything you had and were ready to make sacrifices or suppress pain when needed.

Because, in the end, it was always about pain.

You were willing to take it, to live through it, and to allow this man to destroy you, even if he could be gentle—you'd never expect or ask him to be, since you loved him the way he was. No less, no more. It was raw and sick, but this is how he made you feel, and you had nothing to be ashamed of. Not even in the moments when you should have been concerned or frightened; not even when Patrick wanted to draw some of your blood just to know how it tasted. Not even the moments when you thought it would be your last time having a sexual encounter with him.

Even when he thought it would be glorious if you died while he fucks you, saying some arrogant shit like: "Look at this whore choking to death on my fucking dick."

And you would thank him for degrading you because you accepted this man the way he was. Brutal, erratic, goofy, and insane sometimes. 

But never really gentle. 

However, everything changed one night when, while giving you rough, almost punishing backshots, he suddenly stopped and ducked down to kiss your shoulder blade and the dip in your back. You were left bewildered and shocked because you thought Patrick was incapable of showing tenderness.

Once again, he proved that he was a goddamn mystery who never ceased to surprise you.

"I thought you'd cry," he rasped, his voice tight as he spoke near your ear. "I thought you’d beg me to stop. I thought you’d break.”

Panting, he drove in, rough again, and your whole body launched forward.

"But then you took it. And you cummed so fast. And then you laid there and begged for more." Patrick grunted through clenched teeth.

You shook under him, gasping for air.

"Do you want to know what I really want, honey?" His hand was back on your ass, rubbing the spot he had spanked. "Do you want to know who I really am?"

Slowly, almost tortuously, he pulled out a little, then slammed into you again.

Hard. No warning. No easing in.

You screamed again, your back arching against him.

"I want you to fucking break," he hissed, darting his eyes down to where your bodies were connected. "I want to fuck the noise out of you."

"Please–"

"I want you hoarse by morning," Patrick groaned, thrusting deeper until he felt you clenching so hard that his vision blurred. "I want your throat to be sore from screaming into pillows."

You were panting so vocally—your voice was a mess. "You'll tear me."

"I want to."

With that, the man reached around and grabbed a fistful of your breast, squeezing hard enough to make you yelp. You were already flat on your elbows, your face smashed into the mattress and the sheets soaked at your thighs. With every thrust, you experienced a firestorm of overstimulation and soreness; your body couldn't tell if the ache was caused by pain or lust.

"I want to fuck you until you forget what it's like…" another harsh thrust punched the air out of your lungs, "...to not have me inside you."

It felt like there was no end to it all—his insatiable appetite for control, his need to dominate, and his cruel desire to inflict pain just to lick the wounds he left in his wake. There were moments when Patrick dismantled you just to rebuild you, again and again. His kisses trailed like fire across your neck. His fingers intertwined with yours tenderly. His weight draped over you like a warm, protective blanket.

Was it considered gentle enough for someone like him?

Whenever your moans became too loud, he was ready to cover them with his greedy mouth. But he was probably doing it mostly for himself, getting off on knowing how much you needed his comfort when he fucked you too hard. Unfortunately, Patrick would never tell you, but he found it addictive. He became obsessed with showering your body with all the physical affection he could muster. His lips, his mouth, his arms, his fingers—everything belonged to you. In the end, you held more power than you knew over this corrupt yuppie who insisted he had no soul.

That was until he met you.

Thank you for the reading!🖤 [MAIN M-LIST]🪓[MY IMAGINES ABOUT PATRICK]🪓[KO-FI]

[dontdothisever]

hey! hope this isn't too weird lol but could you write headcanons for how patrick bateman would act if the woman he was dating was ovulating? like would he notice? get weirdly possessive or more obsessive? just curious how that would play out with his whole psycho control thing 👀 thanks!!

Patrick Bateman x Ovulating GF (Headcanons)

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: NSFW, smut, Patrick is an animal.

𝐀/𝐍: Thank you so much for sending me this request! I enjoyed writing it and hope you enjoy reading it. Many thanks to my dear @moriohpsyker for proofreading!💕

🪓He would know because he tracks it.

Patrick is a very organized man, and tracking your menstrual cycle is part of his practical nature. He probably has a calendar or spreadsheet of your cycle, but he wouldn't tell you because you might think it's creepy or weird, even though it really is. So he keeps this information to himself. Once he notices the subtle changes in your mood, the way you talk, how flirty and sassy your tone becomes, how wide your smile is, and how you're absolutely radiating from the inside, he'll definitely check the calendar to see if he's right on time. He can practically taste your arousal in the air whenever you’re around, and it drives him insane.

"You're glowing, darling," he murmurs into your ear, burying his nose in your hair and pressing you tight against him.  "And this scent—so sweet. Lemme taste it.”

🪓His attraction would spike, but it would also piss him off.

Basically, I see him being much more aroused than usual because you’re glowing, your smile hits differently(it's more playful in his opinion), and you’re like a gift with a bow on it, walking around him, asking to be unwrapped. Patrick would be bothered by all of this, especially at work when it gives him a boner. He’s already upset that he has to lock himself up  in his office and jerk off to trashy porn magazines instead of eating you out; to settle inside your dripping pussy. The notion that he could impregnate you would rile him up and speed up his orgasm. He'd see it as an obvious con and another reason to complain—you having a special effect on him while you're just living your life. He could blame nature, but it's easier to blame you and fuck you harder as punishment.

"Shit, I couldn't stop thinking about fucking you all day long," he'd whisper into your parted mouth while doing you missionary style with your legs looped around his lower back. The curve of his cock would massage the front wall of your throbbing pussy so fuckin' perfectly. Patrick would groan, grabbing both your wrists with one hand and pinning them over your head. He'd slam deeper, his hips grinding against yours with the lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh. "Hey, don't close your eyes, honey. I want you to see the things you’re doing to me.”

🪓The potential of breeding you? What if he has a breeding kink?

Okay, but what if the two of you were actually planning for a baby? That would change everything, since this man would take days off from work to have sex with you throughout your ovulation period. He'd be so genuine about it. He'd be dedicated as hell. Patrick would find ways to impress or shock you with his "absolutely normal" ideas.

One day, he'll suggest filming the conception process so he can rewatch it later. When he notices your face going blank, he'll raise his eyebrows and ask, "What's wrong with that, baby?"

Even if you say no, he’ll drill a goddamn hole in your brain with his whining and preaching about how he wants to memorize your perfect body when he manages to pump you full of his cum; and how he’d spread your legs wide open on camera to show it leaking down your thighs. No, there’s nothing depraved about it. Patrick will wait and let you simmer. He'll persistently feed you pieces of his twisted fantasy, like a demon sitting on your shoulder and buzzing in your ear, until you surrender.

And he eventually, of course, gets everything he wants. 

He'll dress you in pretty pastel lingerie because he wants you to look soft and innocent for the video, to make it look like something that was made in heaven. First, he’ll make you suck him off before delving between your legs. After he’s sure the camera is recording, he’ll feast on your succulent pussy as if it were his last meal. Of course, he'd do it with the wettest, filthiest, slurpiest sounds to gratify his own desires while also humiliating you further. For the sex position, he’d debate between mating press and the prone bone only to try them both.

Then, Patrick will break you in half, with your legs splayed open and pulled up at your knees. He'll drape them over his broad shoulders and squat down so intensely that his heavy balls will slap your ass. God, he'll definitely jerk off to your moans while watching this recording on the days when the doctor forbids you to have sex.

🪓The opposite side of his hyperfixation over your ovulation would be his jealousy.

Patrick would be extremely jealous and territorial on the days when you’re ovulating. He’d be on edge, and even just a small smile given to a waiter, passerby, or anyone else would instantly set him off. He would lose his mind, and he hates it, but he hates other men staring at what's his even more, so you better not provoke him. If you do, be ready for revenge.

"We're leaving," he would hiss, annoyed and spitting venom. "This place is so fucking overrated. The alcohol they're serving here is pure garbage.”

He definitely wasn't acting like that just because you thanked a random guy for helping you pick up a napkin you dropped.

What a tragedy.

Yeah, Patrick is unhealthily possessive, especially when you’re vulnerable and blossoming like this. He’ll see every man as a potential threat if they dare try to get too close to you.

Thank you for the reading!🖤 [MAIN M-LIST]🪓[KO-FI]

[dontdothisever]

˚ · . 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎

navigation — request here ! ⭑ smut | ♡ fluff | ✄ angst

𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

⭑ + ✄ — thin line between pleasure and pain.

you're the only person that patrick would never hurt, but there's a thin line between pleasure and pain.

⭑ — comply

patrick gives up control for one night. it goes exactly the way that you want it to.

♡ — dubious loving

patrick's tense. you know better than to push your luck when he's this stressed, but luckily, he lets you walk a thin line.

property of whereireid. do not repost, translate, or steal. read warnings before consuming the media.

[dontdothisever]

STILL GREATEST WORK OF ART I'VE EVER READ 😭🙌

I Crave Your Taste

◥ PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: One day you decided to wear Patrick's shirt, thinking that would be a good idea.

◥ WARNINGS: NSFW │vaginal sex, oral sex (f), creampie, clothing fetish, Patrick being possessive and sassy, daddy kink, praise kink, dirty talk, finger sucking, overstimulation, slight choking, spanking, pet names.

◥ WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

◥ A/N: I finally finished this! I'm sorry guys it took me so long, work is hitting me so hard these days! Also, I want to thank everyone for your notes, reblogs and comments, I love you so much!🥰💕💗 ◥ LINKS: [Sweet like a Cupcake Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

The click of the door opening caught your attention as you were in Patrick's kitchen cooking something special for him. His approaching footsteps made you feel a bit nervous because you didn’t expect him to come back this early.

“Well, hello, sweet cheeks.” He murmured as he appeared from the corner.

“Hey…”

You looked at him, gasping slightly from the way his eyes were gliding over your frame; your clothes, to be exact. And then, you understood why he was glancing at you like that.

“O-oh, I’m sorry… I shouldn't have taken this without your permission,” you said with guilt in your voice. “I was cooking and… I stained my blouse accidentally. So, I decided to take your shirt.”

All this time Patrick was staring at you, standing on the opposite side of the kitchen and only a bar counter was separating you from each other.

“I can take it off if you want…” 

“No!” He blurted out, pointing a finger at his shirt. “Leave it like that.”

With slow steps, Patrick began to come closer, making your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. He looked perfect as usual, maybe just a little tired after a hard-working day but still, he was dressed as impeccably as the devil.

“Patrick, I have something very tasty for you.” You smiled, feeling inspired as you were so confident about your cooking skills.

“Mmm? What is it, (Y/N)?” His low, extremely masculine voice flowed through your suddenly heated body. “Oh, I know… You mean your sweet little pussy, don’t cha?”

Stunned by his sudden words, you gulped and turned around to see him standing next to you, his brown eyes were now dark as the midnight sky; so deep and so hypnotizing, you were drowning in them.

“I…” you began to stutter a little, feeling your cheeks turning red. “I made a dessert for you, a low-calorie one.”

“Are you tryin’ to pretend to be that innocent? Standing here almost naked, ‘cooking’ and wearing my shirt?”

Chuckling a bit, Patrick shook his head in disbelief, and then, he suddenly pushed you toward the bar counter, taking your breath away. Swiftly, he cupped your face, locking his warm lips with yours.

“Daddy…” you moaned softly through the kiss, as his wet tongue began to explore your mouth. Just one word you said was enough for him to go full crazy mode. Patrick smirked as he broke the kiss, inhaling your sweet scent.

“You missed me, I guess…” he leaned to your ear, whispering in a raspy voice. “What do ya want daddy to do? Hmmm?”

You gasped and turned your head away from him a tiny bit, feeling the building tension in your lower belly. Meantime, Patrick took a moment to leave wet pecks on your neck, pressing you even tighter against him, so you could feel his hard groin, rubbing against your mound.

“Tell me, Cupcake…” he murmured. “Do you want me to eat this delicious pussy? Is that what ya were waiting for?”

To confirm his words, Patrick pressed his large palm against your pubis, and you had to bite your lower lip to suppress a loud moan, as you felt his thumb petting your clit through your panties with gentle circular movements.

“P-Patrick…M-mhh.” You whined, clawing at his shoulder.

He kissed your neck again and then, he gently cupped your face, looking right into your eyes and waiting for your answer. With a sharp breath, you just nodded silently, sensing the longing heat flowing through your body.

“My sweet girl,” he crooned, squeezing your cheeks a bit. “You’ll get what’cha want, but I can’t leave these amazing boobs without the attention they deserve.”

Looking smug as usual Patrick started to unbutton the shirt of his you were wearing, and you didn’t dare to interrupt him as you were breathing heavily and gasping for air. After a while, you found yourself sobbing under his touch, especially when he used his snow-white teeth on your sensitive peaks.

“O, God…”  

He purred against your tender skin, leaving a wet trail of small hickeys on your cleavage before he took both of your nipples into his hot mouth, squashing your breasts with his huge palms. A pitiful wail fell from your lips as you tilted your head, trembling in his strong arms.

“Daddy…a-ah,” you grabbed his right bicep, clinging like a drowning woman. “It feels…so…good.”

“And what would you say when I fuck you silly?”

Patrick gave you no time to react, lifting you like a feather and making you sit on the bar counter behind you. His muscular hands were tracing constantly over your body, squeezing and petting all of your pretty curves. And then, you felt his possessive touch on your hips, so you let him spread your legs and open you up for him completely. You blushed almost right away, looking innocently into his eyes which now were glowing with pure lust. Groaning like a feral predator, he gave you a sloppy kiss and leaned down, so that he could be on one level with your needy cunt. 

Patrick licked his lips with hunger as he moved your dripping panties aside. “Mmm, how much I’ve missed this.” 

Without rushing, he began to eat you out, causing your toes to curl from pleasure as his masterful mouth knew exactly how to treat your pussy right and there was nothing left for you to do, but to moan his name again and again. Your pitiful wails were like music to his ears, and the way you were fidgeting in his grip made his cock twitch in his pants as he was painfully hard. Patrick babbled something incomprehensible against your clit, and its vibration sent a million tickles through your body like an eclectic shock, making you squirm and arch towards his face; a sweet upcoming rapture was engulfing you by the second.

“Cupcake…” his sudden gruff voice brought you back down to earth. “Cupcake, look at me.”

As soon as you did what he said, you regretted it: his beautiful face was slightly blushed, his perfect hair was now a total mess from his furious motions, and the way he was flickering your clit with his tongue, oh shit.  The picture you just saw forced your inner walls to spasm so intensely, you nearly began to cry. Right after that, Patrick put his hands under your back to lift you up a bit.

“(Y/N), I want you to look at me.”

“I can’t!” You whimpered.

“Just do it for me, sweetheart. Let daddy see your face when ya cum.” He murmured, kissing the inner side of your hip to soothe you. 

“Daddy…I’m afraid I can’t do it…it’s just too much for me.”

Patrick helped you to get up from your back, pressing you even closer to him. “Oh, I know, Cupcake,” he smirked as he was watching your reaction, while his long fingers were playing with your clit. “Jesus, (Y/N)…You’re such a delicate flower, do ya want me to help you?”

You nodded and gave him a fully innocent glance, that totally drove him crazy. With one easy motion, he slipped his thumb into your mouth, before he continued his assault on your dripping pussy, by that time your juices were all over his face. 

“A-aaah, P-Pat…”

You were trying your best to look down at him, sucking his finger to save any control that you had left, while he was sucking on your little nub, not breaking eye contact with you even for a second. 

“Mmmmhm, Cupcake,” he tugged on your blushing tip with a wet sound. “You taste so fuckin’ delicious...” 

Shaking like a leaf, you whined in response: “D-daaaaaaddy, a-ah-ahh.” 

The whole situation was blowing your mind, and you couldn't help but cry out in pleasure, feeling your inner channel throbbing so intensively tears began to form in the corner of your eyes. 

Yet, you managed to continue watching him eating your pussy like his favorite meal, as he was prolonging your vivid orgasm. And you could swear to God - you just saw stars dancing on the ceiling above you, before a white veil covered your vision completely, and the only thing you could do - desperately catch the air with your mouth…

Although you were so exhausted after such a passionate “love session”, it seemed like Patrick wasn’t going to give you any rest.

How did you end up being bent over the bar counter with your ass pressed to his hard groin, you couldn't tell…you just didn’t remember. Sobbing, you tried to think, but your brain didn’t want to function, especially when you heard an unzipping sound behind your back.

“Fuck, Cupcake. Your pretty little body looks so inviting,” Patrick growled through his teeth as he undid his jacket and tie, and now his full attention was focused on his thick cock, sliding between your swollen folds. 

Biting his lip, he pressed the tip of his shaft against your wet entrance, causing a pitiful whine to escape your pink lips. A nasty slick sound echoed in your ears when he bottomed you out completely, giving a feeling of blissful fullnes.

“Aw, P-Patrick…ahh…” 

“Shhhhit, babe. You’re takin’ me so fuckin well… Ahh, fuckkk.” He groaned softly, closing his eyes as he began to slam into you with relentless effort.

You have to cling to the surface of the bar counter from the way his solid hips were thrusting into yours, flesh-meeting-flesh sounds were filling the room. “D-daddy, ahhhh! Slow down a bit, p-please…”

“I wish I could…Cupcake…” he has to hold back a moan, as he tightened his grip on your waist, fixating you in one place and keep pumping. “...but I can’t.” With one simple motion, Patrick lifted your right leg and put it on the counter, to make the penetration angle even deeper, looking down to where you both were connected and enjoying the picture of your little pussy struggling to encircle his huge cock.

It seemed like you stopped breathing for some time, your opened mouth froze in a silent moan, as your overstimulated pussy began to throb once more; you hadn’t had time to recover from your previous release, a new one was already building up in your gut.

“I…I’m gonna, ahhhh,” you tried to look back at him, hiccuping each time his big cock was hitting your cervix. “Daddy, I’m gonna cum…awww.”

“Huh... that soon?”

“Mmhhmm…” You nodded, feeling his hot breath scorching your neck. 

When you finally managed to lock your innocent eyes with his furious ones, you heard his low growl: “Dontcha dare look at me like that, sweetie,” he put his arm around your neck, tightening his hand a bit. “You loved to be fucked like that, yes? Tell me….do ya like it when daddy reduce you to the whining wet mess?”

Though it was so hard for you to speak right now, you had to answer, cause he wouldn't leave you alone: “Yeah…yes…I do, ooooh my Gosh…”

“Shit, you’re clenching so hard around me…fuck, I hope you are still on your birth control, cause I’m gonna fill this tight pussy with my seed, until she will be so fucking full,” Patrick gritted his white teeth as he was fucking you silly. “You…are..mine, Cupcake.”

Every word he said was punctuated with his deep rough thrusts. Moaning as loud as you could, you just let it go as the tight knot in your lower belly finally snapped, taking away all the tension; his thick cock kept stretching your inner walls through your orgasm and felt like a total bliss.

“P-Pat….Patrick!” You cried out, jolting from pleasure and trying to grab onto something.

Panting wildly, he was holding your neck tightly in his grasp and squeezing, his heavy sac were hitting your tender flesh as he was chasing his own release. 

“F-Fuck…” With a guttural sound, Patrick rammed into you as deep as he could, unloading his hot cum into your sore channel and plugging it up with his cock.

You both were gasping from exhaustion, feeling yourselves completely out of mind. Soon, Patrick released you, kissing your neck and letting you lay onto the cold surface of the bar counter. Slowly, he pulled out of you and looked down at the dripping mess he created between your legs. Gasping but smirking, he spread your buttocks to admire the way his cum was leaking from your ruined pussy. Still shaking from the huge orgasm, you couldn't even make a move, not to mention your pitiful attempts to protest.

When you tried to lean onto your elbows, you felt a sudden burning slap on your ass. Hissing barely notable, you turned around to see Patrick, standing near the fridge with his hands crossed across his wide chest.

“So, what was about that dessert? I think now I’m ready to try it,” he chuckled and came closer to you again. “I don’t think it’s as tasty as you, Cupcake, but I’m really hungry.” He gave your butt some more spanks, but they were way much weaker. 

Cursing to yourself, you wondered how was that even possible to be so unbearable, but then you remembered…it was Patrick, he was always be like that and he always would be…

With a self-confident look, you stood up and turned around to face him, fixing the white shirt of his you were wearing. “One moment, daddy.” 

You gave him your most cute and innocent smile and pushed him aside from the fridge, pretending you didn’t notice his eyes turning dark once again.

[dontdothisever]

Hi! For the 2k followers celebration: Daddy kink, non con, rough sex. Pet name Sugarplum, thank you! <3

Watch Me Burn

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Patrick waited for so long to get his hands on you, and now that you’re finally his, he'll make sure to fulfill all his fantasies, whether you like it or not.

— CONTAINS: Non-con smut, oral sex (Patrick receiving), unprotected p in v sex, Daddy kink, degradation, manhandling, pet names, dirty talk, humiliation, choking, hair pulling, biting, spanking.

— WORDS: 1.5k

— A/N:Thank you so much for your request! It was such a pleasure to write this, so don't mind the length, I just couldn't stop myself, but I hope you like it!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

Anger and despair were eating you from the inside out and that feeling was almost scorching — you could feel the searing pain piercing through every pitch of your trembling body. Naked and embarrassed, you were resting on Bateman’s king sized bed. Even though you were not tied up, you didn’t make any attempts to run away, considering you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to escape him.

Playfully humming to himself, Patrick was setting up the camera, he was fully stripped too, however you were doing your best to avoid looking at him — the way his toned muscles were lilting each time he made a move, and not to mention his fully erected cock, bobbing up and down with the bead of the pre-cum on top of his blushing tip.

“What is this sad face?” He suddenly asked after checking if you were on the full screen for the camera. “Not funny anymore, Sugarplum?” 

When you didn’t reply, Patrick got closer to the bed and beckoned you to its edge — and this time you couldn’t just ignore him. Tentatively, you moved to the place he wanted you to, his cock twitching from the sight of your exposed body, plus the way it was shaking was giving him a special sort of satisfaction.

With a devilish smirk, Bateman grabbed your chin possessively, forcing you to look at him while he briefly stroked himself. “C’mon, baby. Give it a taste.”

With your eyes already wet again, you got closer to him and wrapped your shaking hand around the base of his dick. When you opened your mouth, you thought you were ready to endure all the things which this night would bring you, but at the very last moment, you closed your eyes and pleaded: “No, I can’t! I can’t do it,” you tried to return to your previous place but his dead grip on your throat didn’t allow you to do it. “Patrick! NO! Please, d-don’t make me do this!”

As soon as you saw his large palm getting closer to your face, you flinched, knowing that he would slap you, but instead, he just slipped his thumb inside your mouth.

“I can’t believe you didn’t take me seriously when I said you would be mine,” Patrick hissed and kept jacking himself off in a steady pace, pushing his finger deeper inside your mouth. “Not a pleasant feeling, huh?” He chuckled arrogantly at your pitiful lowing. “You will get used to it, I promise.”

Everything started to happen so fast, your little mind didn’t have a chance to follow and your head was spinning as if it were hit with a hammer. Growling, Bateman stuffed your mouth with his throbbing cock, pushing it almost till the base and squeezing your nostrils tight, asphyxiating you and ignoring the way you were desperately clawing at his hands.

“If I find any scratches on my skin, I will rip off your fucking nails!” He scoffed and yanked you by the hair. “DO YOU HEAR ME?”

Annoyed, Patrick pulled out from your mouth and you used this moment to inhale deeply, not even thinking about the string of saliva mixed with his pre-cum running down your chin. 

“Yes…"

Bateman growled in return and shook you several times.

“Yes, who?” He spat his words into your dull face, squashing your cheeks.

“Yes, Daddy!” You dared to stare into his eyes, although you regretted it almost instantly, as they seemed to be brighter than the Sun and it was too much to look into them.

“You better not test me, Sugarplum.” Patrick crooned in a sweet voice, sliding his leaking dick along your swollen lips before he gave them several slaps. “Actually, I don’t want to hurt you,” he matched his words with a light stroke on your cheek, but the next second he pushed himself inside your mouth once again. “I was thinking about having you for too long… I was imagining how warm your mouth would be,” he almost moaned with his eyes closed as he began to rock his hips against your face. “Fuck, it feels even better than I thought.”

Never in your life have you felt yourself more vulnerable than now and with each passing moment it was getting worse — his obsession about you became your darkest curse.

When Bateman got bored with you giving him head, he easily manhandled you to get on all fours while he was setting himself behind you, so now you both were facing the camera and the mirror on the opposite side of the room. That damn mirror made you close your eyes to avoid seeing that pitiful sight, but once you felt his red tip prodding against your shamefully moist opening, you couldn’t help but turn around to face him — your scared gaze met his lustful one and for a moment you thought you were going to black out.

“Mmmhm, w-wait!” You mewled the moment Patrick rammed inside your tight hole. “It… a-aaaww… it’s so big!”

Cramping the sheets, you could swear you felt each inch of his girth stretching your soft walls and that sensation was both painful and delightful — it made your eyes roll back into your head and lose attachment to reality.

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he husked and thrusted deeper, pushing on your back to bend you lower. “And so fucking wet, you like to be treated like that? Am I right, bitch?”

“N-no!” You whimpered as he gripped your neck and made you arch your back towards him, almost splitting you in half.

“You’re… mmmhm… you’re such a little pathetic liar!” Punctuating each word with a harsh, long stroke, Patrick sped up and forced you to look up at him. “I’ll make sure everyone knows how much of a slut you’re! Now, look at the fucking camera!”

Panting, he let go of you and spanked your ass hard, you could see several tears falling down on the sheets before you raised your watering eyes on the camera.

“How would your friends and family react to seeing you like that?” Bateman continued to taunt you, slamming into you relentlessly, so you could feel his heavy sac hitting your soaked pussy. “Do they know how nasty you are?”

“P-please stop! Stop saying things like that,” you cried out, wiggling in his grasp but Patrick only pushed on you harder and when he covered you from behind completely, you wailed so loud because the angle of penetration was too much to bear. “Please, Daddy! Please, ahhh—please don’t do that!”

“Do what?” He murmured into your ear, resting his hands beneath you, so now they were wrapped around your neck like tight ropes.

“Don’t… don’t show this to anyone, I beg you!” You hated yourself for sounding so miserable and broken, but just the thought of your friends or family watching you like this made you wanna sink through the ground.

His low snickering drowned in lewd sounds of your bodies slapping against each other, along with slick squelch your cunt made each time his throbbing cock slid inside and outside. 

“Argh, look at you! You’re so pathetic and ruined… and I like that.” He nipped at your neck and rolled his hips against your ass to push himself even deeper, his swollen tip roughly brushing against your cervix. “How far are you ready to go for it?” 

You swallowed your salty tears, clinging to the bed with all might you have to bear the hard pounding. “I… I’ll do everything… you want.” 

God, your words just ascended him right to heaven — the power he had over you was overwhelming — how long he was waiting for it, how long he was dreaming about you saying this. Now, he was going to make you pay for each time you denied him, so you would remember how weak and defenseless you were against him.

Leisurely, he backed into his previous position, his pulsating dick slided out from your abused pussy and that gave you a brief moment to catch your breath.

“(Y/n), my dear (y/n),” he repeated your name like a mantra as if he was trying to hypnotize you. “Show Daddy how obedient you can be.”

Shaking, you got on your knees and turned in his direction to see him biting his lower lip and the next moment you cut the distance between you two to kiss him as hard as you could. When you heard him moaning against your mouth you looped your arms around his broad shoulders, and though you did it to save your reputation, you couldn't deny the fact how utterly handsome this man was. And maybe if you two met under other circumstances, you could really fall for him, but now the only thing that had left for you to do was fuck yourself on his beefy shaft and hoping that he would destroy this cursed tape, so no one would ever see this. If only you could wipe your memory, if only you had listened to the warnings about Patrick Bateman, if only…

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[dontdothisever]

I know its a doll but everytime I strip him I'm laughing like a lunatic.... but look how small he is, flaccid though I suppose girth is there... Im still going to make fun of him.

Stripped photo of my favorite Patrick Bateman Doll by Iminime. I got this for a relatively good price in my opinion albeit accidentally.

[dontdothisever]

Christian Bale gives an interview about 'American Psycho' in Sundance Film Festival (2000)