lady-in-red-19

[lady-in-red-19]

dresses c. 1850s-60s.

[lady-in-red-19]

seven by me

[lady-in-red-19]

[lady-in-red-19]

Kirsty Hume

[lady-in-red-19]

'rubber garments by british designer kim west, photo by kevin davies' in body styles - ted polhemus (1988)

[lady-in-red-19]

I NEED THEM BOTH!😓

Oh those other anons are soooo right.

Bruce would be going insane when he finally gets his girl bred. Seeing her trying on gala dresses that are much too small now, her hips getting fuller, tits getting bigger, and swelling with his kid? Way to end up in the gossip mags.

I dont think he'd be able to stop himself at one. You know what the elites are like, kings never just had one heir.

I think he'd want to suck on her tits so bad.

Tbh, i can see Patrick doing that too.

Carrying His Child | Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader, Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader HEADCANON

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: NSFW, implied smut, lactation kink, breeding kink, body worship, pet names, some dirty talk, Pregnant!Reader, breeding kink, pregnancy-related details, established relationships, Husband!Patrick Bateman, Husband!Bruce Wayne, pregnancy sex.

𝐀/𝐍: I couldn't agree more with what anon said and I just wanted to write down some of my thoughts about these two men. Hope you enjoy it!

Patrick Bateman

The recent news of your pregnancy would be both shocking and exciting for Patrick, but he wouldn't even know how to react at first. Should he be openly happy, as all doting partners are, or should he keep it all to himself so as not to look weak and pathetic? This man may not be the best at showing emotion and affection as most people perceive it, but what Patrick is good at is being in control and inflicting it on every aspect of his life, including you and his unborn child. So it's obvious that once your pregnancy is confirmed, Patrick would turn into the most overprotective man, but the dark side of it would be that he would have a grip on everything you do, your lifestyle, what you eat and drink, and who you interact with. And of course it would annoy you sometimes, but this man will try to manipulate you into thinking that he knows what's best for you. When the two of you are out in public, he would hold you close, but not really be clingy, more like allowing you to hold onto his arm, and Patrick would definitely hate any questions related to your pregnancy, like who the two of you are expecting and what month you're at.

Patrick prefers to think of having children as building a lineage - a legacy of his own blood and flesh. And although the burden of parenthood weighs heavily on his shoulders and makes him somewhat unhappy, he can sometimes find the concept of building a dynasty with you quite appealing. But the worst thing is that he doesn't really care about your thoughts or feelings about it, because he sees you as his property—he owns you from head to toe, every little bit of your body is his to possess and ruin. So once the idea of impregnating you again was fully integrated into his twisted mind, there would be no barriers for him to make his fantasies come true. Patrick would patiently wait for you to give birth to his firstborn, maybe even give you time to recover before he'd impregnate you again, using the beautiful and flowery phrases about the love between a man and a woman and how he wants you to give him as many children as he wants because children are flowers of life. There is no obstacle for him to get what he wants. No doubt that Patrick would do everything to make you the best mother because appearances are always important and he wants nothing more than a perfect wife and perfect children—the American dream family. Nothing more, nothing less.

As mentioned, Patrick is not a fan of physical affection, but sometimes, if he's really in the mood or if he thinks it would be easier for him to just give you a hug instead of listening to you vent, he'll do it. Of course, this guy knows how fucked up women can feel during pregnancy, but he can easily be overwhelmed by your depressed mood or your complaints about being tired all the time. On the days when he can't take it anymore, he'd try to escape and lose himself in some nightclub with some other yuppie in the company of pretty blonde hardbodies, but he'd never really try to fuck anyone else because his body would oddly crave only you. It would be annoying for him, especially when he realizes that the changes in your pregnant body only make him more horny. MUCH MORE HORNY. It literally drives him crazy. Whenever he sees you wearing something skimpy, Patrick's dick gets unbearably hard and he has to drag you back into the bedroom or press you against any surface he can BUT he has to remember that the current circumstances are different. You're carrying his child and he can't be as selfish as he always chooses to be—Patrick hates to admit that the unborn child was already stirring something weird in him. But he didn't know how to deal with that strange feeling in his chest when he touches your baby bump with his hands or his lips. It's definitely something different. So different that he forgets about everything else but you—all the blank thoughts about how much money he spent on his new suit the other day, or what tie Tim Price wore yesterday, or which model Craig McDermott boffed at the last fashion show. Fuck all that. If he ever needs to be really gentle, it should be with his pregnant wife. No questions asked. As awkward as he imagined pregnancy sex to be, in reality Patrick enjoyed it even more than before, it was much more sensual and to have you so sensitive in his strong arms, reacting to his every little move, felt like heaven. "Fuck... You're taking me so well, doll," Patrick would murmur in your ear in a passionate tone, spooning you while he covered your neck with feverish kisses, his hands secured around your round belly while he continued to push carefully inside you. "So soft, so round, so warm." Being both insatiable and needy, Patrick would be literally erratic in his craving for your breast milk, acting like a little baby. But, if you ever implied that he was behaving like a baby boy, he would be so fucking offended and grumpy, but in the end, he would suckle at your breasts with full determination, which would make your nipples really sore, especially the moments when he would decide to use his sharp white fangs. Patrick literally can't stop craving the taste of your breast milk—he even considered taking some of your expressed milk to add to the coffee at the office. But this psycho would never tell you about his depraved plans.

Bruce Wayne

When it comes to your pregnancy, Bruce is extremely protective, but not in a babysitting kind of way, because he doesn't want you to feel pressured and obligated to follow a strict list of instructions, as he respects your personal boundaries, but still, sometimes Bruce can be a little too stressed about the safety of you and the baby you're carrying. Giving him a few pecks, stroking his cheek in a reassuring way, and telling him that he doesn't have to stay alert may help. But only until the next time Bruce gets worried about something else. He would also never stop bragging about how proud he is of you and how beautiful you are whenever you show up together at any gala event, and he would even make you wear the tightest dresses to show off your baby bump so that everyone would know who you belonged to. The images of you playing with your child in the backyard of the Wayne Manor would be his most intimate fantasy that he wouldn't share with anyone, claiming it was too personal. After all, Bruce has always been too sensitive about anything family related, but now he was in the process of creating HIS OWN family and he finds himself even more anxious, but he would do his best not to let anything like what happened to his parents happen again. Never again.

The idea of putting another baby inside you after you give birth would live inside his head for a long time like a brain worm, but it would be a very difficult time for him finding the right moment to make a suggestion about it. The man would be nervous because he knows that pregnancy is a very complicated time for any woman, with all those heavy syndromes, including morning sickness and sudden mood changes due to hormones. Bruce sees all this and it makes him insecure if you really want to go through all this again. And he'll never make decisions like this for both of you without your approval. For now, the man will focus on your current pregnancy, take care of you in every way possible, be your shield and shoulder to lean on when you feel down or unsure about being a good parent. Every time you doubt that you'll be a good mother, Bruce will bury his nose in the crook of your neck, deliberately tickling your skin to hear you laugh, and then whisper sweet little things about how happy he is that you're carrying his child and how absolutely sure he is that you'll be the great mother. Zero doubt.

Physical affection means a lot to this man, starting with holding your hand every time you walk together, hugging your waist whenever he can, planting feathery kisses on your temple or forehead. And all of this Bruce does to make sure you know how much he loves you, how much he cherishes every second of his life spent with you. When your body begins to change due to pregnancy, Bruce would be even more focused during sex, making sure you feel good and comfortable, choosing the best position to fuck you deeply but without harming the baby, literally worshipping your body as his personal shrine, telling you how much he loves every little detail of your changing figure: "Uh, darling, you're so beautiful. Uh...I can't get enough of you." In the mornings, you'd usually find him resting between your legs, eating you out with pure devotion, caressing your curvaceous hips and massaging your ample breasts that would soon be so full of milk. One day, when he was playing with your nipples and some of your milk would spill out, he would catch it with his finger and put it in his mouth—the moment Bruce would taste your milk for the first time would be his personal downfall as he would be very paranoid that you would think he's weird. He would try to fight the very idea of asking you to suckle your breasts, and he would be absolutely embarrassed until one day you would suggest it to him, because you'd remember his moan of satisfaction when he tasted your breast milk. Sometimes Bruce would latch his mouth around your nipple as you rode him, his muffled soft moans sounding so perfect and hot, literally becoming your personal aphrodisiac, making you orgasm quite quickly and very vividly. And your round hips, Jesus Christ, your hips would always be touched and teased, fondled and kneaded—simply because your husband can't stop himself, he's literally obsessed. The days when you're struggling with your sore breasts, Bruce would immediately offer you his help, massaging your soft mounds and asking you how you feel and if he can squeeze them a little tighter, because he wants to feel your tender flesh under his fingers—he literally craved it so much. Scattering pillows on the bed for you to rest on would be Bruce's special ritual whenever you decided to get naughty or just relax together, naked, skin to skin, lips on lips. Once your baby bump got too big, Bruce would help you take a shower, including washing your hair and every little patch of your gorgeous body, so after that he can comb your hair and carry you into the bedroom to massage your feet and GOD, his strong hands really know how to work magic and sometimes it feels even better than sex.

[lady-in-red-19]

Delicios!

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Title: Relaxation

Warning(s): SMUT, MDNI, 18+. P in V, etc. wrap it before you tap it.

Character(s): Bruce Wayne, Female x Reader, and Alfred Pennyworth *takes place around the time of the Dark Knight*

Authors Note: this is a sloppier smut. It was one of my very first times writing smut, and I never posted it. But I’m cleaning out my drafts and didn’t want to delete it. Not proofread; I skimmed through it. Enjoy!

My work is not to be translated, or posted on any other platform. ©️

The cool air nipped at your skin as you stepped outside of the shower onto the marble floor. You quickly patted the ends of your hair with the black towels embroidered with the name Wayne.

With another towel, you wrapped it around your body, and quickly went into the big open room. Bruce had been living in a pent house due to Wayne Manor catching fire; the two of you had been dating for half a year, and you found yourself staying with him more and more.

The big windows made you feel vulnerable, but Bruce had reassured you that no one could see in. Alfred opened the bedroom door, “I brought you some coffee Miss Y/N— oh, my, I apologize for the intrusion— I didn’t meant to… I should’ve knocked.”

He averted his gaze, and you chuckled. “Alfred, thank you for the coffee. If you don’t mind, would you set it on the table by the door?” You asked and he quickly turned on his heel and sat the tray down before slamming the door.

When you looked at the clock on the night stand, you ran to the dresser and pulled out a pair of your nursing scrubs. You were a nurse at Gotham General Hospital. You were aware it was strange for a billionaire to be dating a nurse. Especially for a playboy like Bruce Wayne. He was always surrounded by models, but when he met you, he chose you over a plethora of supermodels.

By the time you had gotten your coffee drank, and your hair done, you realized Bruce never even came home last night. With a sigh, you walked out into the main living area and Alfred was filling a thermos full of coffee.

“Is that for him?” You questioned and Alfred gave you a sheepish smile. “Would you mind telling him we need to talk? Tonight? He missed dinner with my family, and then he didn’t come home last night.” You said as you picked up your bag. “I’m worried, Alfred.”

Alfred handed you your cellphone, “Don’t be, Miss Y/N. He chose you. He loves you. He just had to work late; that is all.”

You looked into Alfred’s eyes, and you nodded your head. “Okay. Okay. But still, tell him I’d like to see him. Please.” You said before leaving for the hospital.

Of course you were worried. Bruce was notorious for not being a one woman man. Where there was one, there always had to be more. What made you any different than his past relationships?

—————

After working a long 12 hour shift, all you wanted to do was soak in a hot bath. Your feet were sore and your back was stiff; at this point, you could fall asleep just about anywhere.

You leaned against the wall in the elevator and watched as the numbers slowly climbed. When the elevator dinged, the doors opened leading into the penthouse. The lights were dimmed, and you sat your purse down on the counter. “Bruce? Alfred?” You called out and Bruce emerged from the bedroom with two glasses of wine in his hands.

“Look who decided to come home.” He said with a smile, and you gave him a smirk. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Wayne.”

He caught on to your semi-hostility. Bruce approached you slowly and he sat the two glasses down on the counter before trapping you between his arms. “I worked late. I’m sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you.” He whispered in your ear as he dragged his lips down your jaw line.

Your body shivered against his touch, “At least let me take a bath first, Wayne.” You said and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’ve already drawn you one.” He mumbled against your lips.

He picked up your hand and led you into the bedroom and then to the master bathroom. You kicked off your shoes and picked them up and put them in the corner of the bathroom.

You started to pull down your hair, but Bruce moved your hands away from your head. “Let me help you. I want to help you relax.” He whispered as he looked at your reflection in the mirror.

His fingers gently started to unbraid your hair, and you felt relief all throughout your scalp. A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and he pushed your hair to your shoulder, exposing your neck. Bruce’s lips danced around the soft skin, and you leaned your head back on to his shoulder.

Bruce’s hands traced down your arms to the end of your shirt, and slowly pulled it up your torso. When it was fully removed, he tossed it to the floor, and then he helped you out of your sports bra. He groaned at the sight of your bare breasts and placed a kiss on the back of your neck.

Then he kissed down your back, and then pulled down your pants and panties agonizingly slow. No matter how many times you and Bruce had done this, the thought of him judging your body crept into your mind.

He stood up and pulled you over to the bathtub that was already filled with hot water. Slowly, you stepped into the tub, allowing the lower part of your body time to adjust to the temperature. Bruce’s hands traced around your hips as he kissed you softly.

You bit Bruce’s bottom lip, and he pulled you closer to his lips by the back of your neck. A soft moan escaped past your lips, and reverberated against his, making him smile.

“I’ll let you get washed up. After your bath, we can go watch a movie, yeah?” He said pressing another kiss to your lips. When he pulled away from you, you grabbed his hand and pulled him back to you.

Bruce was shocked by your bold move, and you pressed a bruising kiss to his lips. “I want you to stay with me.” You said and he pulled his shirt off, and then his pants. It wasn’t long before he climbed into the large tub with you.

When he had sat down, he pulled you down to him and began pressing kisses all over your neck. Bruce massaged your breasts in his hands, and you couldn’t help but to straddle Bruce’s lap.

You could feel how hard he was, and the hot water that rested against your skin made everything more steamy. His hand splayed across your bare back, and without hesitation, you reached down into the water and led him to your entrance.

Bruce stared up at you in complete awe, “You’re so sexy, Y/N.” He said as his wet hand pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Slowly, you sunk down onto him, feeling yourself stretch around him.

A groan left Bruce’s lips as you cautiously moved up, then down his shaft, adjusting to his length. His wet palm traced from your shoulder to your neck, and found its place on your cheek.

You stared into his eyes— those hazel eyes made you weak in the knees. Sometimes they were mostly green, but when he was like this- relaxed, or his expression darkened, the brown would take over in his eyes.

Bruce’s thumb ran across your bottom lip, dragging the soft flesh down ever so slightly. You pressed a kiss to his thumb, and stilled yourself on his length.

He rested inside you, and he pulled you closer to him so he could kiss you. His lips worked slowly against yours, and his tongue slipped past your lips once or twice. Bruce always savored these moments with you; he never wanted to stop.

If he could make one wish, it would be for him to never leave the bedroom that had you in it. Bruce’s hands went under the soapy water and gripped your hips. You moaned against his touch, and he slowly started controlling your body, moving you up, then down, up, then down again until the thrusts got sloppier.

Water splashed out of the bathtub, a mess that the two of you would worry about later. When you tried to pull away from his lips, his fingers would spread across your wet hair and bring you back down to him.

“Please, don’t stop.” You whispered between his kisses, and his right hand went to your breast and gently pinched your nipple, eliciting another moan from your lips.

“I’m about to—”

“Me too.” He said cutting you off. The thrusts were so much stronger, and faster together. Your knees were starting to get sore, but the thrill and the ecstasy that flooded through your veins made you ignore the soreness.

You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped past your lips, and Bruce didn’t pull out. Both of you were out of breath, and your face fell against his wet, toned chest. His fingers combed through your hair, as he slowly lifted you up from off of him.

He knew your body was limp, and he smiled at the thought of him having this effect on you. The water had finally come to a rest, and Bruce got out of the bathtub and changed out the water.

You were content— the soreness from work was long gone, but the soreness Bruce had caused remained. The two of you had climbed back into the tub and Bruce insisted on helping you wash your hair and body.

He pressed kisses all along your shoulders and neck, as his fingers gently massaged your scalp. When the two of you had finished washing up, you dried your hair and Bruce was already lying in bed.

“Maybe I should just call in…” you said as you climbed into the big king sized bed. Bruce smiled as he turned to face you, “I hope you don’t mind, but I called you in sick for tomorrow.” He sheepishly smiled and you couldn’t help but to smile back.

His button up shirt and a black pair of panties were the only things you were wearing. You pressed a kiss to his lips when a crackle of thunder, and a sharp flash of lightning filled the room.

You jumped at the sound, and the power had completely gone out. Bruce looked out the big windows that were behind the bed, “The power should kick on soon.” As he finished his sentence, the sound of fast, heavy rain pattered against the windows aggressively.

The sounds of thunderstorms were different when you were in a pent house. Something you still weren’t use to. Bruce laid back down next to you, and you cuddled up into his chest. You could feel his fingers move from your bare thigh, up to your chest.

You hid your face against his cheek, and his hand went back down between your legs. First his fingers traced against the fabric of the panties, and when he wasn’t hearing the sound he wanted to hear, he started removing your panties.

Excitement washed over your body again, and you began shimmying them off. Bruce’s fingers expertly slid between your folds, and he couldn’t help but to slide a finger inside of you.

Your face stayed against his cheek, your breathing was uneasy. “You’re already so wet for me. Again.” He whispered, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek as he inserted a second finger.

“I love feeling how tight you are.” He said, and then he added a third finger. A gasp passed your lips and your hand went down between your legs to massage the soft bundle of nerves.

The sounds that were coming from your body, were euphoric. Bruce slowly pulled his fingers out of you, and your legs were already shaking at the loss of fullness.

He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting you. “You taste so good, baby doll.” He mumbled into your ear.

Your hand brushed against Bruce, and he was hard. The slight feeling of your hand made him jolt forward, and you started to unbutton your shirt.

The lighting was the only thing giving you light every few moments. You weren’t unbuttoning the shirt fast enough for his liking, so he ripped it off of you, buttons scattering every which way.

Bruce was on you once the shirt was discarded to the floor. His hands traced everywhere, and his lips sucked and nipped at your skin— bruises would be there in the morning.

He sat up and stroked his cock, “You’re so sexy, Y/N.” Bruce teased your folds with the tip of his cock; you could already feel the warm pre-cum rub against your bare heat.

Slowly, he pushed the tip into you, and then fully sheathed himself inside of you. “Oh fuck, Bruce.” You moaned and he moved inside you, giving you time to adjust.

Bruce began thrusting into you with a rhythmic pattern. Sweat was already beading at your forehead, as he put your legs over his shoulder.

Bruce wanted to get as deep inside you as possible. Because that’s when you made the sweetest sounds; sure enough, like a melody, your moans filled the entire room.

This encouraged him to move faster. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours sounded like something from a porno. He flipped you over to your knees, and you knew this position well. Eagerly, you arched your back, and he slid back into you.

Another loud moan came from your mouth, and the sound of skin against skin progressively got louder. Bruce smacked your ass making you moan; he loved nothing more than to hear your moan.

“You’re taking me so well, Princess.” He said as his movements got sloppier with every thrust. You could knew he was about to finish, and luckily, you were about to too.

With one final thrust, you came all over his cock, and he finished deep inside you. Innately, Bruce continued thrusting, “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Your entire body was on sensory overload, and you were shaking. When Bruce pulled out of you, you fell against the mattress, and rolled over. He laid down right next to you and pulled you against his sweaty body.

All that could be heard was yours and his heavy breathing, the low, deep rumble of the thunder, and the pitter pattering of the rain. You cuddled into his side, tracing the scars on his chest with your finger tips.

“Thank you for calling me in tomorrow. I don’t think I can walk.” You said and Bruce chuckled.

“I don’t know what came over me. Seeing you come home like that, I don’t know but you’re so beautiful.” He said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad you’re mine.” He said and you pressed another slow kiss to his lips.

“Show me again how I’m yours.” You teased and Bruce smiled. It was going to be a long night and day off.

—————

Thank you for reading! Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! This one was little sloppy, but this was one of my first smuts I drafted and didn’t want to post, but I don’t want to delete it. I’m cleaning out my drafts, so we’ll see what else I find to post. ❤️🫣

[lady-in-red-19]

sorry but you should learn how to write patrick more accurately and also youre the biggest freak around here🤮🤮🤮

Hello!

So, the thing is, the only person who can write Patrick accurately is Bret Easton Ellis himself, and I've never wanted to write like him. What for? Copying someone else's style is not my thing, that's the point. And as I always say, everyone can have their own vision of the canon character, so judging the level of accuracy is nothing but toxic behavior. Next time, bring me an encyclopedia or a scale to measure the accuracy of writing a fictional character, so I can look it up.

Thank you! :>

[lady-in-red-19]

Bonnie Tyler, 1980s.

[lady-in-red-19]

A corporate 80s look

[lady-in-red-19]

I'm speechless. Literally!🥲🥲What a masterpiece!

Love ur writing it always makes me so happy when you post

For the celebration can you do breeding, belly bulge, and loss of innocence/virginity please 🥵🥵

Obsession

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When your father told you that you were going to marry the son of his biggest business partner, named Patrick Bateman, you didn't believe him at first, but eventually you had to face reality and accept your destiny.

WARNINGS: Smut, hurt /comfort, forced marriage, forced pregnancy (kinda), loss of virginity, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, nipple play/tit sucking, teasing, vaginal sex, creampie, belly bulge, Breeding kink, Praise kink, Innocent kink, Size kink, sweet dirty talk, multiple orgasms, humiliation, manipulation, pet names, horny hubby!Patrick Bateman himself.

WORDCOUNT: 4.1k

SONG REC: Mariah Carey - Obsessed🖤

A/N: Finally, I managed to finish this prompt. I really enjoyed writing it, thank you so much for this request, I hope you like it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [BWC MASTERLIST].

You were so scared and lost that you couldn't really believe it was happening - you wished that marrying Patrick Bateman was just a dream... but it wasn't. It all felt so real when after the super luxurious wedding, you rode in his limo to the Plaza Hotel for your first night together. Because the whole situation between the two of you was so rushed, you didn't even have time to get to know each other better, your father was too impatient and he wanted this marriage to happen as soon as possible. However, you remembered Patrick since you were children and all the girls around were always so charmed by him, even when he was just a little cheeky boy.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Patrick suddenly asked, placing his large palm on your knee. 

With a sharp gasp, you shrugged from his unexpected touch and turned to face him, holding for a moment to admire his beautiful, brown eyes. 

“Nothing.” You replied, breaking eye contact with him once you noticed you were staring at him for too long. 

You heard him letting out a tired sigh, and then Bateman tried to cuddle with you a bit, wrapping his arm around your slightly shaking shoulders. “I know that everything seems to be a bit messy but…”

"It doesn't seem like it, but it really is," you looked at him again, his face so close to yours that you had to hold your breath. "Literally…everything."

"Baby, please. Don't interrupt me, okay?" Patrick tried his best to be patient and polite, but you could feel his hand tightening on your back with each passing moment. "Things are really messed up, but I want to assure you – if you can be a good wife, I'll be a great husband to you. That sounds like a good deal, doesn't it?"

Shivering from being so close to him, you almost writhed in your seat when you felt his searing lips brushing behind your ear as he murmured something soft, something soothing, but you couldn't concentrate as the meaning of his words slipped away from you like a leaf in the wind.

“Pat-Patrick, actually … there’s one thing I didn’t tell you yet,” you mused nearly audible. “You know, I’ve never been close with anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

As soon as you opened your mouth to respond, the limo stopped and you both looked into the window to see the beautiful illumination of the Plaza. 

“Oh thank God, we’re finally here … I really hate NY in this time of the day, because of these fucking traffic jams.” 

Bateman’s rants still resound behind your back even when you got outside. Gently, he held your waist for support as you moved to the entrance to the grand hotel, your hand kept fixing the hem of your massive dress. 

It was not surprising that Patrick chose a luxury presidential suite for you, with large rooms and high ceiling above. You couldn't hide your fascination and that made him smirk loftily whilst he was helping you to remove your half-coat. Little by little, you moved to what was supposed to be a living room and took a seat on the huge black leather couch, suppressing growing anxiety inside your chest. 

“Do you like this place?” Patrick looked at you before letting out a short whistle, removing his jacket. 

“Yes, it’s really nice.” Smiling timidly, you clutched at the skirt of your dress once you saw him coming closer. 

“Uh, you always loved fancy things, darling,” he sat next to you, throwing his leg over another and placing his hand on the back of the couch, almost touching your shaky shoulders. “Well, nothing's too good for my wifey.”

His kiss on your lips was so sudden that it sent a million chills down your spine, causing your lungs to cramp from the lack of oxygen. At first, you clawed frantically at his solid biceps as you felt his hot tongue slide against your mouth in a demanding manner. You jolted once you gave him what he wanted, because this kiss was nothing compared to the one you shared at the wedding - it was much more passionate, but still you couldn't relax.

“Pat-Patrick, please … wait,” you whispered as your voice shook, searching for his brown eyes which now were dark as a midnight sky. “You must know one very important thing.”

“What is it, my dear?” 

"I'm..." you stuttered from the way he was staring at you, his hungry gaze literally eating you alive. "I'm a virgin, Patrick."

He frowned for a moment, then laughed uproariously before pulling up the hem of your dress, messing with its countless layers. "You can't be serious."

His reaction really embarrassed you, so you just pushed his big palm away and got up, leaving him on the couch with a disappointed grimace on his face.

"Hey! Where are you going?" He asked annoyingly, his golden Rolex wiggling on his wrist as he raised his hands in confusion.

"I want to get off this dress and change into something else," you complained, trying to reach the ties at the back of your dress to undo them. "I hate it!"

It was as if he hadn't even noticed your ranting when he rejoined you: "And what about that guy from college who was hovering around you like a fucking shark? Poor guy missed his chance to get a bite of a delicious pie like you?"

Gritting your teeth, you shrugged at the unpleasant sensation and shouted: "Don't you dare talk about him like that!"

He chuckled again, in his natural haughty way. "He was always a loser, and I always knew you would be mine."

You were almost done with the ties, but as soon as you heard his last words, you froze, feeling something snap in your mind. "What did you just say?"

Bateman's grin grew even wider as you turned to face him, with an unhidden dread in your eyes. "I said I always get what I want..." He stood up and walked over to the large coffee table near the couch, taking a glass and pouring some red liquid into it. "Wine?"

When you didn't answer, he took a sip of alcohol before continuing his malicious confession: "As you probably remember, my dear (Y/N), my father wanted me to marry," with every word he said, Patrick was slowly closing the distance between the two of you. "And he also wanted me to have an heir. The American dream family, that really works best for a good social reputation".

He paused, standing almost face to face with you, you could feel his expensive cologne enveloping you like a mist. “And?” 

Your curiosity made him sneer with delight, so he cupped your cheek and looked down at you, murmuring softly as if trying to lull you into a fake sense of comfort. "And then there was a business meeting with your father where I remembered you as the ideal candidate to be my wife," he smiled almost lovingly, stroking your cheekbone and placing a tender kiss on your temple. "Too bad you couldn't see the look on your father's face when we talked about it, he was as happy as if he'd won a fucking billion dollars."

Stifling the immense pain in your heart, you closed your eyes and almost fell into his embrace from the feeling of being so miserable in this selfish world. His words only proved your thoughts about being just a figure in another chase game of your dad, and according to what Bateman just told you - your father won a jackpot by forcing you to marry the son of his biggest business partner.

“But to be fair, I didn’t expect to be that lucky …” he murmured before pulling you closer, his hands traveling around your lower back. “… to get such an innocent flower.”

When Patrick kissed you on lips again, you didn’t even struggle as the dark void inside your soul was consuming all of your thoughts and feelings, leaving you completely empty. With no rush, Bateman was undoing the rest of the ties on your dress as if he was unwrapping his most desirable gift. Your throat shivered in a choked gasp, as your body was traitorously responding to each touch he made, especially when his large palms ran across your boobs to give them a slight squash. 

"Baby, you don't have to be afraid of me." His suddenly charming voice sounded like honey, so sweet and stringy. 

"I'm not afraid," you stared up at him, catching his hands that were now caressing your thighs. "I'm so... so fucking disappointed."

"It's understandable."

"But not for you," you scowled a bit, biting your lip to keep the salty tears from welling up in your eyes. "I'm just a toy for you... just like for my beloved father."

Suddenly Patrick's eyebrows knitted, making him look a little frustrated. "No, you're not."

"Enough lies," you wanted to push him away, but he only held you tightly, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. "This is all so fake!"

"Maybe everything around us is fake, but we are not..." he gently traced a finger along your cheek, moving down to outline your trembling lips. "We're real, and when I said I'd take care of you, it wasn't a lie."

The way he looked at you was literally captivating, it caught you off guard and you couldn't help but breathe out sharply as his plump lips nestled against the sensitive spot on your neck. 

"Pat... Patrick," your hands clung to his shoulders as you desperately searched for protection, and your inner nature told you that he could do it - his strong arms were like a shield between you and the whole world. "I really want to make it work, but..."

Bateman didn't allow you to finish, pressing his thumb against your mouth and then lifting you up as if you weighed nothing as he walked into the big, fashionable bedroom. Shaking slightly, you closed your eyes from the sense of unreality that clouded your mind like the strongest alcohol.

Did he just say he was going to take care of you? 

The man you had always known as a total egoist, who loved no one but himself, now covered your small frame from above as he laid you on the king-size bed, planting little kisses on your cheek before settling on his knees, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his white shirt.

"You look gorgeous, (Y/N)," he mused, taking your leg to peck at your ankle, causing your back to arch at his unexpected tenderness. "As you always do."

Cautiously, Patrick slid down your luxury wedding dress, exposing your bare skin that was not hidden under your beautiful white lingerie - just a glimpse of it made him swallow hard, and when you gave him your most innocent look, he licked his lips briefly as his nostrils began to turn red.

Panting barely audibly, Bateman stood on the floor to remove his clothes, not wasting a moment to admire your embarrassed face, the more naked he became, the more noticeably you began to fidget.

"Come here, darling." He purred like a cat and beckoned you over to sit on the edge of the bed.

There was something sweet about him, as all the girls always said when they saw him, which was probably the reason why you couldn't resist him as you obeyed and knelt beside him, waiting for his next move.

“Babydoll,” he stroked your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes again from the blissful sensation of his warm palm. “Tonight, I’m gonna guide you into the world of pure pleasure … ”

You shuddered at his promise as your insides tightened like a spring - that strange sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You'll never be the same after this, sweetheart." Bateman crooned, wrapping his hand around your neck, not to hurt you, but to make you feel his unspoken dominance.

“A-ahh,” your low moan caressed his ears and that was one of the most delighted things he ever heard. “What do you want me to do?”

Your hasty question impelled him to humm in absolute adoration, as Patrick drew near your mouth to kiss you hungirly, never in your life someone was kissing you like that, sucking on your lips one by one and biting them a bit, making you literally melt in his strong arms.

"Be yourself, (Y/N)," he whispered into your ear, hugging your shoulders before pushing on them determinedly, and now you were sprawled on the bed beneath him. "You're incredible just the way you are."

Trembling, you wanted to scream as his words worshiped your broken soul, even if he was only doing it to befuddle you and get what he wanted - in that moment, you didn't care as the strange, burning desire grew from the inside, corrupting your innocent mind by the second.

Delicately, Bateman darted his soft fingers against your belly, sliding them up to your heavy breasts, teasing your nipples with light strokes, you gasped from that contact, creasing the blanket and spreading your legs that allowed him to rest himself more comfortably. 

“Good girl,” he praised you and pulled down the straps of your lingerie to expose your extremely hard peaks. “Mmm … my sweet, little girl.” He gave one of them a few licks, before he took it into his hot mouth, sucking it with pure delight. 

“A-aww, Gosh … ” You wailed and enfolded your arms around his head, not even realizing you were pressing him closer. 

Patrick exhaled a muffled groan and switched to your other nipple, swirling his wet tongue around it so deliciously that the tight knot in your lower abdomen was begging to be released.

“Patrick! P-Patrick please!”

“Mmm, honey, you have amazing tits,” he huffed and trapped your swollen tip between his sharp, white teeth, forcing you to freeze in silent moan of pleasure. Seizing the moment, he sneaked his long fingers between your legs to grope your taut lower lips. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet and we have only just started.”

Breathing heavily, you look up at him from under your lashes with your dazed eyes, feeling his soft finger pads slide up and down your feverish pussy. Bateman stared back at you, smirking in his arrogant way, especially when you jerked beneath him as he slipped a thumb inside your panties and pressed it against your sensitive nub.

"No one's ever touched you like this before?" Patrick asked, rubbing your clit steadily, forcing you to bend your legs into knees to give him more space to play with. 

You tossed the pillows around to cover your face and just nodded, feeling his ministrations becoming more and more insistent, you didn't know how long you could stand it. 

"Mmm, does that feel good, baby?" He watched you from above, admiring the view of your trembling body as his fingers slid over your cunt like clockwork, making obscene, sleek noises.

"A-arrh, yes ... mmm ... so good."

To be fair, Bateaman knew what you were going to say before you answered, because he was absolutely confident in his sex skills, and you would remember this night for a long time.

First, he left a light kiss on your side, passing your rib bones as he descended to your mound, leaving a wet trail of hickeys. Fondly, Patrick opened your hips wide apart, and he had to hold them securely as he pushed your underwear aside. You winced because you knew what he was going to do, and when he finally latched his plump lips against your blushing clit, you didn't know whether to stop him or explode right here - his skilled tongue left you with no choice. 

"Mm-mmhm, ohhh God, I can't... I can't, Patrick! It's too much," you writhed on the bed, the tension in your womb too intense for you to bear. "P-Please ... ah, please ..."

Uncertain of what you were pleading for, you let him strap your legs over his broad shoulders as he lapped at your cunt without stopping, sucking your burning flesh and consuming your sweet juices like his favourite dessert. You were so fucking close to combustion when a sudden sharp pain ripped through your body, causing you to shriek in agony.

"Shh, it's all right ... I need to prep you, (Y/N)," he smooched the inside of your hip, slowly pushing his thin fingers into your spasming cleft. "Hang in there, baby. Will you do it for me?"

His voice was so soothing, so convincing. As you wiped away your tears, you saw him offer you a hand and you took it, letting your fingers intertwine. Patrick interpreted this gesture as a 'yes' and the next moment his lips found their way back to your clit, flicking it with his warm tongue and sparingly pumping your pussy with his expert fingers.

As much as he attempted to be gentle, it was still painful as he plunged deeper with each passing second.  "Mmm, I..." you stammered as you felt him add another finger. "I'm scared, Patrick."

"Don't be," Bateman mused after tugging on your little tip with a squelch, slowly twisting his digits and looking at you from between your legs. "As long as you're a good girl for me, you've got nothing to worry about."

Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes from the stinging sensation of your shimmering tears. You knew there was no going back, you belonged to this man now and he could do whatever he wanted with you. Still, you tried to believe him, it might be naive and stupid, but... you just couldn't deny your sympathy towards him, especially when he treated you so kindly and lovingly.

Maybe one day you would regret it, but for now all you could do was whimper loudly and writhe on the king-size bed in the most expensive suite at the Plaza Hotel as your lawful husband was about to make you his, now and forever.

After a while, your taut body couldn't take any more of the crazy mix of pain and ecstasy that was intoxicating your mind - you orgasmed so vividly that you were afraid you were going to pass out from the feeling of your inner walls pulsating again and again.

"Yes ... just like that, honey," Patrick murmured, his fingers still pounding into your spasming cunt, prolonging your climax and it seemed you were about to cum again. "Ahhh, baby, you make me so proud."

"Patrick..." your chest rose and fell so abruptly that your face burned from the heat, as if someone had poured hot tea on you. "Mmm..."

You only managed to squeak out as Bateman suddenly rolled you over, forcing you to stay on your knees as he sat behind you. Shit, he was so huge, you felt so tiny in his arms, especially when he wrapped them around you to plant a sloppy kiss on your neck, he could feel the artery beating so fast.

"You'll like it, believe me," he chuckled softly before pushing down on your back to bend you over. "It will hurt, I admit, but not for too long."

At the very last moment, a creeping fear took over your mind and even after several orgasms he had worked you up, you couldn't relax, knowing the pain to come. Nervously, you bent down to rest your head on your crossed elbows, his hot flesh poking at your tight little hole. God, he was so big... you knew it from the time you danced close together at your wedding, your inner channel clenching around nothing in anticipation of what would happen next.

"(Y/N)," he called your name longingly, stroking his full length as he spread your wetness around his engorged head. "I've never wanted someone as badly as I want you now."

Bateman lowered himself to lick your neck, and then you screamed loudly as he began to thrust into you, gripping your hips tightly as you instinctively tried to slip away. 

"Pat! Mmm, I'm so f-full, Goshhh," you tried your best to hold yourself back from crying, but the tearing sensation in your lower abdomen was too much to handle. "W-wait!"

"Almost there, darling," Patrick lied, as it was only the tip, but he didn't want to make the current situation any worse, so he decided to just keep going, ramming into you with more effort, grabbing you by the waist and almost digging his fingers into your delicate skin. "You're doing so well, mmmm ... F-fuck, you're so tight, baby."

Bateman really tried to control himself, but the way you embraced his thick cock was too blissful, it brought out his inner beast faster than he thought.

"Aaa-awww, so... so big, oh mmmm," your eyes rolled back in your head as he buried himself completely into your squeezed womb, your saliva dripping uncontrollably from your mouth. "Ah! It hurts..."

Without hesitation, Patrick leaned down to your neck and tongued your earlobe in order to soothe you a little, and when that didn't help, he cupped your face to bring you closer as his red-hot lips locked with yours. Passionately, he attacked your mouth, sucking and licking your tongue with a slurpy sound. 

"You will give me a child, sweetheart," Bateman muttered in a demanding tone before forcing you to sit on your knees and covering you from behind. "A beautiful son..." he thrust deeper, holding you by the neck. "...or a daughter...or both."

The sounds of flesh meeting flesh mixed with the squelching your pussy made each time his beefy shaft moved in and out of your inner channel, relentlessly hitting your cervix with its tip.

"Yes, P-Patrick ... I'll do anything you ... want ... aaaww!" Your ability to speak diminished each time he rocked into your body, pressing you closer to his solid muscles as he settled more comfortably on his knees beside you. 

"Of course, you will, baby girl."

Bateman was about to lose it at any moment from the way your tight hole was squeezing his dick, and your lascivious moans only encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster. 

"Do you feel that love?" Patrick put his hand on your belly, impaling you relentlessly on his thick cock. "Can you feel my dick hitting your belly? Arrgh-fuck, you're so delicate and fragile ... I'm even afraid of breaking you."

After his brief confession, Bateman took your palm and placed it on your tummy, so you could sense the outline of his huge dick sliding inside you, and that sensation literally made you choke on air. 

"I feel it ... Patrick, I f-feel it ... aaah," you threw your head back, resting it on his sturdy shoulder. "Patrick..."

You mumbled his name over and over as a saving mantra, your eyes now full of tears, and as if that was not enough, his hips began to slam into yours with increasing intensity. For a moment you found yourself fading away from the tremendous sensation of being so fucking full and abused that you couldn't even pronounce a world, only moaning wildly as you were fucking like animals, so ruthless and totally out of control.

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna make you pregnant again and again, mm-my dear wifey," he suddenly lowered his palm down your mound to rub your oversensitive bud, smearing your slick all around your pubic area and causing your legs to tremble frantically. "Shit," he felt you clenching around his dick as you climaxed so abruptly from his rubbing circular movements. He watched you quiver in his arms, your mouth paralysed in a silent cry as he kissed your temple and contemplated: "I wanna see your belly swell with my child ... I bet you'll look so beautiful, ahh-fuck."

Growling, Patrick closed his eyes from the surging ecstasy that soon consumed him, causing his whole body to cramp and his thrusts to become absolutely raw but ragged. As he pumped his fertile seed into your pussy, he didn't stop ramming into you, holding you tightly in his muscular arms until he was spent to the last drop. The feeling of warm cum filling you from the inside was so overwhelming that you didn't have time to be afraid, as if it was destined to happen before you could even think.

‘Just be a good wifey for him,' kept nagging at the back of your mind, your tears falling on your sweaty body as your eyes were wide open, staring at that one spot on the ceiling above with bitter sorrow in your chest.

From now on, you would never belong to yourself again. Not ever.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[lady-in-red-19]

That was really very sweet!🫀🫀🫀

Hi, Bunny! I love your blog and wanted to ask if you could write something soft and comforting about Patrick? It's sad that most people write him being so evil and hateful. Your blog is like a safe place from all that chaos!🐰🐰🐰🫀

More Than Enough For Me- Fem Reader Insert Fluffy Emotional Hurt/Comfort Patrick Bateman Fic

(A/N: Hey, nonnie! Thank you so very much for this request and your kind words! Although I understand why people often write him being so evil and hateful (given it is canon, even I've done it myself), I have a hard time writing him being evil and hateful towards myself, reader, etc. (maybe because I self ship with him? idk lol). I much prefer to write him being mean to others to protect/defend my self insert/reader, and only being cold or distant towards us when he's upset. It means so much to me that you find my blog a safe space, I never once thought I'd be that for anybody ❤️🫂😭 There are many other writers on here and AO3 that also write fluff and comforting stuff with Patrick, so I highly suggest checking them out too, they are some of my biggest inspirations 💕🩷 Anyways, here's something I cooked up based on/inspired by one of my recent storms of negativity I've been recovering from, I really hope you enjoy it! This is my first time attempting the classic reader insert format, so I hope it's okay! To everyone else reading, I hope you guys enjoy this too!)

The sunlight peeked through your curtains to greet you the moment you opened your eyes. Your muscles, aching from your chaotic day of work the afternoon and evening before, refused to move. The stiffness was painful, and you were still groggy. It seemed as if no amount of sleep could satiate you, leaving you perpetually exhausted.

You managed to roll over onto your side, pain still all over your body. Your feet and back were particularly bad. Your one big toe was still aching whenever pressure was applied to it, ever since you got injured a few days ago at work trying to move a scale. On top of all of that, your cramps were stronger than ever before: as (somewhat) expected, your period must have started.

Son of a bitch.

Your clock read roughly 10:00 in the morning. Yet you had no energy to move. You laid there, stiff as a board, lethargic and drained. You felt the need to urinate but couldn't even move to get up and go to the bathroom. You had no more ice water, and you were desperate for a drink of either water or something with caffeine like a Diet Coke. But you were rendered simply stiff and still, every muscle refusing to obey your body's other demands.

You checked your phone by your bed and proceeded to scroll through your socials. It was the only thing you were able to do, and even then, it was only because you were nervous about not seeing any texts from work and family. Your cramps and muscle aches were killing you, but you couldn't move at all. Even turning in bed was an impossible and painful task.

By the time it was 11:30, you still were glued to the bed. Your body was crying in pain from cramps and the need to relieve yourself. You knew it wasn't good for you to be laying here like this, not going to the bathroom or getting something to drink. But your whole body felt like it turned to stone, and you were stuck.

Finally, a call from your boyfriend, Patrick Bateman, shook you from your mindless daze of scrolling. You slid to answer and gave a lazy, "Mmm... Hello?"

"Pumpkin!" He greeted in that charming voice of his. "How are you doing this morning, princess?"

"Mmm...I don't know..."

"You don't know?" He seemed confused at your simple response. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know..." You groaned. "I've just been stuck in bed since I woke up an hour and a half ago..."

"You haven't even left your bed?" A hint of uncharacteristic concern filled his voice. "Have you even gone to the bathroom?"

"No..."

"(Y/N)... now you work at a hospital, do you not?"

"Yes..." You sighed.

"And what would you tell one of your patients if they were just laying in bed?"

"That we should be turning at least 2 hours to not get bed sores and we should be trying to get out of bed to at least sit in a chair..."

"Now, does that sound like anything you're doing at all?"

"No..."

"Then why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because... I hurt too much... all over... and I'm too tired... No amount of sleep can help me..."

He sighed from the other end of the phone. "Tell you what, I have the day off today. I'm coming over and helping you out as soon as possible."

"Pat, you don't have to do that for me..."

"Who else would I do it for? You're the one person I feel the closest thing to love for, and don't you ever forget it." You could hear him getting up from either a chair or his couch. "I would say stay there until I come, but the problem is you already will."

You gave a small smirk and chuckle, genuinely touched by his words and actions. "Very funny, Patty. I'll see you in a bit then."

He hung up the phone, and you proceeded to still lay in bed. You yawned and stretched only a little bit, but it barely did anything for you. Turning on your side, you moaned in discomfort as your muscles screamed at you. Your stuffed animals lined up on the bed stared back at you, their cheerful expressions a stark contrast from your own miserable state. Your Squishmallows and Squish-a-Boos all looked so soft and fuzzy, a collection of pure comfort in every sense of the word. Your stuffed Dumbo you bought from the hospital gift shop after he tempted you for a weekend smiling at you from behind the window grinned dumbly at you just as that same day you took him home. Your stuffed bunny, the one you begged Patrick to buy for you on one of your grocery runs, Mimzy, eyed you thoughtfully. Your stuffed Bluey that Patrick bought you for Valentine's offered you a red sparkly heart, but that wasn't what you needed to get out of bed.

Finally, the door to the house clicked open, and you could hear his footsteps enter, his dress shoes creaking against the carpet. You knew he knew the code to your front door, and although you sometimes feared if it was the right decision to let him in with such information, given his "stalker-esque" tendencies, it was odd how much you trusted him. In fact, despite his desire to sometimes be a little overbearing and overprotective (one would say borderline obsessive), you felt flattered that someone cared that much about you that they would be willing to check in on you, especially someone as cold as Patrick who didn't care for many people in his life at all.

You could hear as Patrick traipsed up your steps and into your room. The scent of his hair gel and cologne was intoxicating, and you turned your head to face him as he approached you, sitting on the edge of your bed. He was still wearing his long black overcoat, and underneath that, he was wearing a grey suit, grey dress pants, white dress shirt, and yellow tie with black spots.

"I don't think your stuffed animals are going to help you get out of this bed," he teased.

You nodded. "I just don't know how to get out of bed..."

"Pumpkin, you need to take care of yourself...it's important. I always take care of myself."

You nodded, merely acknowledging his words. You knew how well Patrick was with holding self confidence (or at least enough that he was able to care for himself day in and day out, all his occasional jealousy and envy of his peers aside). His self esteem, while undeniably variable, was at the very least higher than yours.

"Baby...why are you having a hard time taking care of yourself?"

You sighed through your nose. "I'm just...so exhausted. I just...I don't know...it's not really on my list of priorities..."

"It should be!" He seemed genuinely surprised you would say such a thing about yourself. "Darling, do you...not prioritize yourself?"

You shrugged, which only raised his concern for you.

"Dear...why would you not prioritize yourself?"

"I'm just not that important..." You admitted. "I'm not really worth it..."

"Of course you're worth it!" He began to rub your thigh the way he always did, smooth circles tracing against you. "Why don't you have any self worth? Why is your self esteem so low?"

"I don't know..." You replied, defeated. "Maybe feeling like an absolute fuckup, failure, and loser has something to do with it. I have no friends, I barely go out unless I'm going to work or the store with you...I barely understand myself, I'm weird, I'm particular about things I shouldn't be, I don't understand who the real me even is, I'm completely lost, I don't even know if I want to live to see the end of this year, the whole world I'm not built for is better off without me in it-" You paused to catch your breath, before finally turning back to Patrick, who looked down at you with an odd, reflective sadness in his hazel eyes.

You felt a bit guilty, revealing just how depressed and anxious you had been for a long while now. You didn't want to dump all of this on him, it just wouldn't be fair. But you were reaching a point that all of it came exploding out of you. Despite this, he wasn't cold or angry at you. In fact, he seemed to understand your pain and suffering, the words that fell from your lips. For once, the man strongly lacking a conscience, almost entirely devoid of empathy, was latching onto your words, able to see himself in your position. It was such a rare moment he was able to see himself in another person. But like a rare gem, glimmering somewhere in his frigid soul encased with ice, he let it wash over him in a warm wave that gave him an adrenaline rush of euphoria and comfort.

He gave a gentle smile as he set his coat aside. "I understand, love. I understand completely. I struggle every day to discern the real me. I go back and forth between feeling like I'm the best motherfucker in the room, to everyone else making me feel less than. But you know what helps me? Taking care of myself. Showing myself that I am worth it. This is what you need to do. You need to show yourself that you are worth this world. You need to give yourself some love." He paused before standing up. "Tell you what, baby: I'm going to do everything in my power to not only make you happy, but take care of you today. I'm going to show you that you are worth so much more than you will ever realize. You are more than enough for me. You are worth every ounce of love I am capable of providing."

You listened to his words, your own heart filling with tender warmth. Nobody had ever once spoken to you like this. No else had ever understood you like Patrick did. No one had ever wanted to help you like Patrick did. And as you slowly sat up in bed (finally), you looked back into his face, still soft and loving.

"Thank you, Patrick" you replied. "You don't have to do this for me-"

"But I do," he beamed.

You allowed Patrick to practically carry you out of bed and to your bathroom. He set you down on the floor and helped slip your pajamas off of you. You blushed the whole time he did this, especially as you saw the blood on your pad in your underwear, thankfully sparing them of needing to be cleaned with peroxide. This was not the first time he saw you naked by any means, but it still made you feel a bit shy. He set your laundry in the laundry basket and ushered you to sit down on the toilet to relieve yourself.

"Pat, you don't have to baby me like this..."

"(Y/N)... I am doing this to help you... You need to be pampered and taken care of."

You couldn't argue with his kindness, as you did greatly appreciate it. It was hard to say no to your boyfriend, who was so generously taking time out of his day to take care of you in your time of need. He wasn't wrong either that you did need to take care of yourself. This was for your own good and betterment. You couldn't just lay in your bed all day and rot. So, you said nothing else and did your business as he took out the messy, greasy braid your hair was in and brushed it out for you. You winced at how bad you had let your knots get. Even though you did take the quickest of showers the night before since you had to clean off any hospital germs, you didn't feel truly clean walking out of the shower. You were just too exhausted and drained. You just put up a sloppy and ratted braid in after barely drying your hair and slipped on pajamas before collapsing in bed. Come to think of it, you were too tired to even eat something...

Your stomach growled lowly at the thought of not having food since the small snack you had for your break yesterday evening. Patrick noted this as he continued brushing your hair out.

"We're having a full meal after your bath, understand? I'm going to make you some real food to eat."

You gave a small smile. "Yes, sir..."

He gave a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Good girl..."

After your hair was done being brushed out, Patrick wiped off your comb and brush to get the grease out as you stood up and wiped yourself. As you were finishing up, Patrick set his suit aside, leaving him in his dress shirt and tie. He rolled up his sleeves and started the shower for you, making sure the water was nice and warm. He allowed you to step inside. You sighed at the warm water, meeting your skin once again, but this time, you could actually enjoy it more. You closed the curtain and allowed the warm waterfall to run down your body. You were surprised when he handed you your toothbrush with toothpaste on it through the curtain.

"It's important to brush your teeth twice a day," he said. You could practically see the smirk on his face as he said it.

You accepted the toothbrush and brushed away at your teeth. When you were done, you spit the toothpaste down the tub's drain and washed away the amount that was on your mouth still. When the toothbrush was clean, you handed it back to Patrick, who was handing you a cup of mouthwash. You dumped it into your mouth and handed the cup back to him. You swished the fluoride around in your mouth. Although it burned a bit, you realized just how dirty your mouth must have been. After gargaling, you spit the mouthwash out into the drain and cleaned your mouth off once again.

You could hear Patrick step out of the bathroom for a bit as you began to wash yourself. You started with your face and ears, followed by shaving your armpits, arms, and legs. You scrubbed your back with acne soap and sighed in peace as the hot water washed it all away, releasing the tension in your back muscles. You scrubbed your hair with dish soap to loosen up the grease, followed by dandruff shampoo and regular shampoo. The fresh smell instantly hit your nostrils, and the feeling of small circles scrubbing away the grease of your hair instantly made you feel better. Your tranquility washed over you just as the water did through your hair, the soapy bubbles trickling down the drain. You brushed your ends out with conditioner and rinsed your smoother ends out. Finally, you scrubbed away at your arm pits and breasts with sea scented soap and washed your privates with feminine wash soap.

When you were finally all clean and rinsed off, you turned off the water and wrung your hair out. You opened the curtain to find Patrick had just returned to the bathroom with a towel. You accepted his assistance to wrap the towel around your body. He gave a teasing sniff of your hair, making you giggle.

"Much better, love," he smirked.

After helping you into a pair of period underwear, Patrick led you back to your room, where he allowed you to sit down at your desk. You noticed that your bed was completely made and that he even took the time to reorganize your stuffed animals.

"Awww...Patrick, thank you for making my bed...It looks so much better now."

"Now, hopefully, you'll actually get a better restful sleep with a clean bed." He noticed a giant fan you used in the summertime for when your room got very hot. He turned it towards your hair and turned it on to start drying. While your hair flew about, dripping beads of water onto the carpet as it began to dry, Patrick found your eyebrow razor.

"Normally, it's best to shave your facial hair before you get into the shower, but I do it all the time after I get out, so it doesn't truly matter."

You allowed Patrick to shave in between your eyebrows for a few minutes. Once he was done, he unplugged your electric face razor and carefully shaved away any lip hairs in under a minute. He showed you your face through your mirror.

"See? Don't you look better already?"

You were a bit surprised seeing how much better you looked now that your face was clean and shaved of every little hair. You nodded and smiled.

"Wow, Pat, I...I do...it's amazing..."

He turned off your fan and pulled out your hairdryer, the warm air feeling relaxing on your scalp and head as he dried your hair off. Once your hair was completely dry, he helped you put tea tree oil under your arm pits, alongside any zits you may have had on your face. You rolled and sprayed on deodorant and spritzed perfume wherever you wanted before pulling a sleep bra over your chest. Patrick began searching through your pajamas to find something warm for you to wear.

"Now, let's pick a nightgown..." He picked up one with strawberries on it and gave it a sniff. "How about this one? It will make you smell nice..."

You smiled and gave a laugh. "Hmmm...Maybe let's see what else we have..."

He set it aside and grabbed another one. "This one has clouds on it...it just looks soft and fluffy...it'll send you right to dreamland."

You nodded. "Hmmm...keep looking."

He pulled out another. "Ooh! This one has unicorns on it...lots of them running around on rainbows..."

You smiled wider and nodded. "Yeah! I'm in the mood for that one!"

He smiled back at you and laughed. "Alright, my little unicorn..."

He slipped the nightgown over your arms and helped you pick a pair of knee-high socks to keep your feet warm. He helped you brush your hair out and placed it in a set of pigtails. Your hair felt so much better, now that it smelled of fresh shampoo and was free of knots. Lastly, Patrick helped you clip your finger and toe nails and file them down.

"These are starting to get a little long again," he pointed out. "I don't want you to scratch yourself or anyone else. That's not good for you. Do you see me having long nails?"

You shook your head. There was an odd relaxation to Patrick methodically clipping your nails and filing them down to perfection.

He took note of your purple colored big toe when he finally got to your feet. "What is this?"

"Oh, I uh...got hurt at work..."

"What?" His voice raised a bit. "How?"

"Well, I was moving a standing scale out of someone's room, and I accidently ran it into my big toe as I was dragging it into the storage room. It's a little sensitive, so please be careful."

"I will." He began to deal with your toe nails, keeping to his word by being gentle with your big toe. "I wish I was there with you. You should've had a big, strong man like me to lift up that scale. A little girl like you couldn't carry that thing all by yourself."

You smiled and laughed. "Yeah, I guess I couldn't..."

"You need to ask for help more, baby. You let yourself try to carry the whole world on your shoulders. It just can't be done. You need to ask for help more."

You sighed. "I know...sometimes it's just so hard. It can be hard physically because there isn't enough people around you to ask for help, and mentally it can be hard because you want to try to do things yourself."

"I know, but pumpkin, you are burning yourself out. You're physically hurting yourself. You're the one person I can't stand to see hurt. Please ask for help more, can you promise me that you'll ask for help more?"

His gaze met yours for a moment, and you gazed back. After a period of silence, you sighed. "I will try. I will really try."

He leaned over and kissed you on the lips, and you reciprocated. "I at least want you to be a good girl and try for me, okay, baby?"

You nodded, a blush consuming your cheeks and a smile filling your face.

Within minutes, he finished your nails, rendering you completely clean and groomed. He helped you pull your knee-high socks over your legs and carried you downstairs into the living room, your stuffed Bluey in your arms. He set you on the couch and gave your forehead a kiss.

"Stay here and put on something you want to watch while I make some lunch for you."

You scrolled through the channels, failing to find anything that caught your attention until a certain instrumental theme song came on. You decided to cuddle up under your warm weighted blanket and your stuffed Bluey while her animated counterpart danced around on screen. You could hear Patrick in the kitchen fixing up something for the two of you. Bluey managed to distract you enough from your hunger and cramps until Patrick came back into the living room with food that smelled so good, it instantly made your stomach growl again.

Patrick presented you with one of your favorite things for lunch: dino nuggets with hot sauce to dip them in, pizza rolls, and mozzarella sticks, with ice water to wash it all down with. For himself, he decided to have the same thing (which left you very shocked and surprised he would let himself slip on his diet this time), but you noted that he had a smaller amount.

"You'll actually eat some of the more unhealthy things I like to eat?" You asked.

"I'll burn it all off tomorrow," he replied. "Besides, it's my cheat day today anyways. Normally, I give myself sorbet for dessert and that's it...but I can change things up every once in a while, right?"

"The fact that you're willing to even cheat your diet for me...it just shows how much you really care about me, Pat..." You wrapped your arms around him as he sat back on the couch, setting your food on the coffee table. You planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Patrick...I love you so much..."

He wrapped a muscular arm around you, pulling you close to his buff chest so you could hear his (normally) cold heart beating, somehow more alive than it ever was before. "I love you too, pumpkin...you're the only thing I am ever capable of loving, and I want you to never forget that...you're the only person I would ever do all of these things for..."

After your lunch, taking ibuprofen for your cramps, and several episodes of Bluey, the two of you cuddled up in each other's arms. You both agreed that you wanted to change the channel to Law and Order SVU. Bundled under the weighted blanket, sharing your body warmth, finally clean and full of food, hydrated with water, and free of pain and discomfort, an afternoon sleepiness overcame the two of you. The desire to nap hit you both at full force. Without even realizing it, you both fell asleep for an afternoon nap. You were sure that whenever you both woke up, Patrick would order something good for dinner, maybe even treat you both to ice cream for dessert, maybe a scary movie while you had dinner. Maybe you'd show him some of those new slimes you bought online before he'd tuck you in for bed.

But for now, that would have to wait. All that mattered to you before you drifted off to sleep was how happy you were Patrick came to your aid, and how you were both more than enough for each other.

(A/N: Thank you so much again for reading! If anyone would like to drop a request, feel free to leave one! Any and all feedback is also appreciated! I kinda suck at reader inserts since I'm not that crazy for writing them (not like I am reading them), but it's been fun trying something new! I hope this didn't come off as too "self inserty" lol. A special thank you again to the anon and their kind words! I also definitely needed to write some soft and comfy Patrick too lately! 🩷🩷🩷🫂🫂🫂💕💕💕😘😘😘)

[lady-in-red-19]

Thierry Mugler, 1984

[lady-in-red-19]

Cassandra Peterson and her alter ego, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, 1980s

[lady-in-red-19]

Knight of Cups behind the scenes (06.08.2012 thru 08.14.2012)

Re: Christian Bale as Rick in Knight of Cups (2015) dir. Terrence Malick

(christianbalefanatic edit)

[lady-in-red-19]

Everything about this is amazing!🤗💗😏🫀

bound in silk

patrick being submissive bc we all need that, smut, reader can be whatever gender you want them to be.

🐇hope you enjoy!🐇

Patricks sheets felt soft and cool beneath your skin, the dim glow from the TV flickering across the all white walls of his apartment as some old horror film played in the background, but you weren’t paying attention. Your mind was elsewhere—on something you’d been thinking about for a while now.

Patrick lies beside you, relaxed. His shirt unbuttoned halfway, exposing the hard lines of his chest—his fingers lazily tracing circles on your thigh, his touch light but possessive.

He looked good. too good.

And you wanted him tied up. Badly.

You shifted closer to Patrick, pressing your lips near his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin. He smelled like his usual cologne, crisp and clean, like he had just stepped out of the shower. Leaning in, you let your lips brush against the shell of his ear, your breath warm, teasing. "Patrick, honey…" Your voice dripping with mischief. "I want to tie you up."

“No.”

the word came quick and firm, but you only smiled, trailing soft fingers down his chest, gliding over the open silk of his shirt. "No?" you repeated, tilting your head, a smirk curling at the edges of your lips. "Please patrick?" you said, pressing your lips against his throat, his jaw tensed. and that's all it took.

And now here he was—bound.

His wrists were tied to the headboard with one of his own Hermès ties, his normally perfectly slicked-back hair was slightly disheveled from your touch, his breath uneven, his muscles taunt—His shirt completely open, framing the lines of his chest and abs, the expensive fabric a mere afterthought as he lay there—bound. He should hate this. Shouldn’t have let you do this. He was Patrick Bateman, not some weak, submissive man. And yet… here he was.

"You look so good like this" you teased, your fingers tracing down the tense muscles of his stomach. he shivered—his cock achingly straining against his boxers, already hard before you'd even touched him properly. You smirked. "This won’t last long," he muttered, "I can break out any moment." his voice was confident, but the way his hips shifted beneath you told a different story.

He wanted this.

"But you won’t." you whispered, leaning in. your lips ghosted over his chest, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his chest. You dragged your tongue lower, letting it flick against his abs, loving the way his stomach flexed under you. "You’ll let me keep you tied up"

"Because you love me."

A low groan rumbled from his throat. He won't admit it—but you're right. His fingers curled into fists above him, but he didn’t fight you. Didn’t stop you. His restraint wasn’t the tie—it was you. you went lower, your mouth pressing hot, wet kisses down his stomach, your nails scraping along his ribs. He twitched beneath you, a sharp inhale hissing through clenched teeth as you dragged your tongue along the waistband of his boxers.

His hips lifted slightly—a silent beg.

"Y/n" he said your name desperately, head pressing back against the pillows, his arms pulling against the restraint again. but you don't reply, pulling his boxers down slowly, watching as his cock springs free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. a satisfied hum left you.

"You like this, don't you?" you teased, wrapping your hand around his length, giving a slow, torturous stroke. His cock twitched in your palm, betraying him again. His breath hitched, but his jaw was clenched tight, still trying to act like he wasn’t enjoying this—but as you leaned in, your lips brushing over the head of his cock, his entire body tensed.

"Tell me you want it," you purred.

Silence. He wasn’t gonna give into you.

You flicked your tongue against the tip, tasting him—He shuddered as you traced your tongue along the thick vein running down his shaft. "Come on patrick, tell me how bad you want this...please?"

Still nothing. He just sat there, hands clenching into fists. He was breaking, unraveling, all that polished control disintegrating beneath you. a sharp breath–a curse under his breath. But still, he didn't speak. Your lips parted around the head of his cock, tongue teasing the slit as you took him in slowly—agonizingly so. you hummed in satisfaction, sending vibrations through his length—His breath hitched sharply, muscles straining against the silk restraint. "Fuck!" he hissed, his head tilting back even further, throat exposed, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His hips bucked, but you pulled back just enough, denying him the release he craved.

"You have to say please first" you said innocently, letting your tongue trace the underside of his cock, dragging achingly slow down his shaft. Your hand followed, fingers wrapping around his base, squeezing just enough to make him groan. "I could break out any second" he rasped out, voice strained.

"But you won’t," you mumbled against his skin, pressing a kiss just above his slit, your tongue flicking out to taste him again. "You’ll let me do whatever I want to you, won’t you?" His chest heaved. thighs tensed beneath you.

He didn’t answer.

So, you wrapped your hand around him–your grip was barely there, fingers ghosting over his cock, the lightest touch dragging from the base to the tip and back again. Slow. Torturous.

Patrick’s body shuddered beneath you, his muscles flexing as he fought against the silk tie binding his wrists. He could try to break out—he should—but he didn’t.

Because he wanted this. Needed it

His cock twitched in your grasp, thick and achingly hard, the head flushed and leaking precum that slicked your fingers, But still, you kept your pace infuriatingly slow, your strokes barely giving him the friction he craved. His breathing was uneven, heavy, every inhale sharp, every exhale strained. You were driving him insane. “Jesus- fuck—” His voice was tight, nearly breaking. His hips jerked slightly, but you pulled your hand away before he could get what he wanted. a low, frustrated growl rumbled from his throat.

"Poor baby," you smiled, tilting your head as you wrapped your hand around him again. Your grip was firm, your thumb circling the tip, your hand easily gliding down as even more precum pooled out. "Is this fast enough for you honey?"

your strokes stayed agonizingly slow, dragging over his cock, your grip loose, enough to keep him on edge but it wasn't enough to make him cum. His hips twitched, his body begging for more friction, more speed—more of anything—He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists above him—cock throbbing, precum slicking your fingers even further as you continued your torturous pace.

"You want more, don’t you?" your voice dripping with amusement as you squeezed just a little tighter, slowing your strokes even further. His cock twitched violently in your grasp, betraying him once again. His nostrils flared. "Fuck you" he gritted out, his voice tight, strained, every muscle in his body tight.

You just laughed. "You're so stubborn patrick" you muttered, watching the way his abs flexed as you barely brushed your fingers over the head of his cock. "You can’t even say what you want, even when you’re desperate for it." You could see it in his eyes–the way he was fighting it, the way his body was losing. his jaw clenched so tight it could break. His desperate but oh so frustrated eyes locked onto yours, his entire body coiled like a spring.

"I'm not gonna beg"

he said breathlessly, He refused to give in that easily, yet His body said everything‐the way his cock twitched and pulsed in your hand—the way his thighs would tense every time you teasingly rubbed the tip, how his hips lifted on their own, chasing the warmth of your hand, the pleasure you were dragging out, making him suffer.

You smirked. "Fine. We’ll do this my way."

without warning—you jerked him off fast.

Hard. Relentless. No mercy.

Patrick choked on a groan, his arms straining against the tie as your hand pumped his cock with a brutal, delicious pace. The sound of slick skin on skin filled the air, his precum making every stroke obscene, filthy. “ah fuck—” His voice broke, raw and desperate, his thighs trembling beneath you, his abs clenching as pleasure slammed into him too fast, too sudden.

He had no control—none.

The silk tie held his hands in place, keeping him bound to the headboard, keeping him from taking control. "Shit—" he gasped, hips jerking up into your hand, his control slipping completely. "I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—"

And then, suddenly, you stopped.

Patrick growled. a vicious, frustrated sound, his head snapping up, eyes burning into you with pure frustration. His cock was throbbing, slick, veins pulsing with the orgasm you’d just ripped away.

"You love this, don’t you?" you said softly, "Letting me ruin you?" his eyes darkened–his body tensed. “Finish it.” His voice was dangerously low and threatening, his patience now completely shattered. "Now" but despite his threatening tone, your strokes stayed agonizingly slow, dragging over his cock, your grip was enough to keep him on edge but never actually give him the relief he desperately wanted, yet he still wouldn't beg.

as much as you wanted to keep teasing him, you decided to just give him what he wanted. You’ve teased him enough.

you tightened your grip and jerked him off the same way you had previously done.

"Fuck—!" He whimpered, the sudden friction slamming into his senses like a shockwave. His hips bucked helplessly into your hand, chasing the sudden rush of pleasure, his breath shattering into ragged, desperate sounds. His head snapped back, eyes squeezing shut, groaning loudly as you worked him over with no mercy, slick sounds filling the air as your hand moved relentlessly over his cock—your other hand sliding up his stomach, feeling the way his abs clenched helplessly.

"Shit—Y/n—Please" His voice broke, strangled with desperation, His lips parted, breathless little gasps falling from his mouth, his thighs were trembling, his arms pulling against the tie, his stomach tensing violently as his orgasm coiled too fast, too strong—a sharp, choked sob escaped his throat.

"That's it honey" you cooed, stroking him harder, watching as he fell apart. "Cum for me, Patrick."

And that was all it took.

his hips twitched uncontrollably-his whimpers broke into full, desperate cries, his wrists pulling helplessly against the restraint–Patrick sobbed as his orgasm ripped through him, his entire body shuddering uncontrollably, thick ropes of cum spilling over your fingers, over his stomach—his cock pulsed hard in your grip.

You stroked him through it, milking every last drop, savoring the sight of him completely undone. And when it was over–when his body finally sagged against the bed, spent, trembling, ruined—you leaned in, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to his stomach.

"See?" you murmured. "Letting me tie you up wasn’t so bad."

Patrick let out a breathless laugh, eyes still dark, dazed, and a little bit teary.

Then, in a low, dangerous voice, he muttered–

"Untie me."

And the look in his eyes said you were absolutely fucked.

this is so disgusting oh my god.

[lady-in-red-19]

Givenchy, S/S 1999.