THE WAY PATRICK BATEMAN WOULD...

THE WAY PATRICK BATEMAN WOULD...

A Patrick bateman smutty headcannon list

Warnings; American psycho but he's rlly hot. Dub con. He's mean.

Enjoy!

Patrick bateman would be the kind to force you to video tape yourself masturbating with one of the toys he gifted you, he makes a tape of it just so he could watch it for later.

He's the kind to hate fuck you after you both get into a argument.

Loves to pull hair, bite, smack, and spit. He doesn't care for aftercare. He makes you clean yourself up while he looks at himself on the mirror

Patrick likes to take advantage of you everywhere and anywhere.

He loves to degrade you and humiliate you in bed.

Patrick buys you expensive lingerie just for him to cut it up and make u feel bad!

He likes to guilt trip and manipulate you into having sex with him. He proudly talks about how you are in bed with his co workers

He tries his best to make you cry everytime

Loves to bring a weapon with him to a hook up.

Patrick likes whenever you scream and moan out his name whenever he's fucking into you.

PLEASEEEE can u show the time where reader caught rafe punching the squishmallows that really sent me

"don't laugh, okay?" you say it softly, right outside the door to your bedroom.

"why would i laugh?" rafe’s asking seriously, but you're already a tiny bit embarrassed of what lies on the other side of the door and you're unsure how rafe will react.

"it's, like, a third of the size of your room-"

"shut up and open the door."

you sigh, turning the handle and pushing to let yourself in first. rafe follows, staring around the tiny room observantly. his eyes flicker from corner to corner, taking it in. you stand to the side patiently, playing with your hands, in particular the ring rafe had just gotten you, fiddling and twisting it repeatedly.

he walks around for a second, stopping at your bookshelf to take a look at the titles on the shelves and then moving on, staring at the photos on the wall and then sniffing a stray candle on the nightstand. he finally stops at your dresser, glancing over the lotions and perfumes littered on top to stare at the framed picture of the two of you perched right in the center, odds and ends he's gotten you in the last month scattered around.

"so?" you question quietly, eyes big.

"which drawer's got your panties?"

"rafe! shut up."

"it's a cute room. why'd you get so worried?"

"i don't know. habit." you settle on the bed, bringing your biggest squishmallow onto your lap, holding it in your arms comfortingly. rafe's still looking around.

"always had one favorite color, huh?"

"yes," you admit, squeezing the stuffed animal harder. rafe finally comes to join you on the bed, gesturing to the squishmallow as soon as he does.

"what the hell is that?"

"this is ricky. he's a clownfish. he has a career, i just can't remember-"

"huh?"

"they all have jobs and hobbies, rafe. the squishmallows. i think he's an underwater singer or something."

"you sleep with that huge thing on the bed?"

"every night. when i'm here, at least. i should get one for tannyhill!"

"don't know about all that." he takes it into his hands, moving it around, observing it from all sides. "every single night?"

"yeah. why?"

"nothin'."

the conversation changes to the books on your nightstand, and you forget all about the squishmallow resting on your bed until you step out to get a cup of lemonade for rafe.

walking back in, you wonder if you put enough sugar in, when you open the door to see rafe smacking your squishmallow with his right hook, right to his little face.

"what are you doing?!" it spills out before you can stop it, the lemonade almost falling out of your hand.

"look at the dent. how does it go back to how it was?" he questions, while you look over at him, horrified. "what's inside it? feathers, or some shit?" he looks over to get an answer, when he looks at your distraught face.

"what?"

even when he sleeps over, he's never allowed to touch your squishmallow again.

𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠?

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒𝟏𝟕𝟐

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞/𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐜𝐨𝐧/𝐝𝐮𝐛-𝐜𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲. 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲? 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝! 𝐀𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 @suzs-fic-library 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚'𝐝, 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

You’re in the middle of cooking when your phone pings, it’s the delicate stage where the food will stick to the bottom of the pan if you don’t continue stirring, but curiosity always wins out, especially when you see a number you don’t recognise pop up. As a rule you’re a cautious person, it was part of your job, but this was your phone, you’d been the one to add in the extra strength anti hacking, anti viral, anti spyware, anti everything technology to its hardware, so you were certain that this was just some sort of error on someone’s part.

You quickly turn the heat down, humming along to the upbeat music that’s emanating from the speakers, and look at the screen. There’s no message, just an image, so after waiting a moment, you let the curiosity win out and open the message.

And promptly choke on air, the humming coming to a violent end. The image is of a man taking a selfie, you can’t see his face, but what you can see is… very, very attractive.

Whoever he is, he’s buff, both arms very well muscled, and he’s well dressed. The tank top and slacks may look casual but they’re clearly expensive, and the chain and rings that he’s wearing look like they’re made from gold-

So… what do you think?

You jump at the message, and look around your kitchen suspiciously, somehow expecting the mysterious man to be standing behind you, judging you for choking in lust at a partial selfie. Obviously there’s no one there, so you quickly type out a response;

I think you have the wrong number.

The dots pop up, and then the man responds;

Amy?

Nope, not Amy. Sorry.

You’re mildly irritated at not being Amy - whoever she was was lucky to be receiving this man's tanned and enticing torso - but you shrug and put your phone down, turning back to your food, but that’s when it pings again.

Aw shit, I’m sorry I sent that to you.

Mistakes happen, it’s ndb.

NBD?

You narrow your eyes at the screen, but a smile tugs at your lips.

No Big Deal.

Oh. That would make sense.

NBD.

>:(

You snort at the angry emoji, and then put your phone back on the counter, ready to start serving up your food, but then it pings again.

I think Amy gave me the wrong number.

Well yeah as you’re texting me.

Maybe it’s for the best. Anyway, I’ll leave you be. Have a good evening.

You too.

You worked for Shield as a hacker and software developer, you’d seen the absolutely horrible things people could do in situations like this, so seeing this guy back away calmly was a nice change. Your finger hovers over the block button… but you leave it. He wouldn’t be messaging again anyway.

So, did you send that pic to anyone?

The message pings as you’re idly scrolling the news feed on your phone whilst some rom-com plays in the background on your TV and you frown, 

Who would I send it to?

Girlfriends? Or maybe a boyfriend?

Why would I send it to my boyfriend? I don’t even have a boyfriend.

Irritation burns in your gut at that, you knew better than to give away information like that, but it had been so long since anyone had even remotely taken an interest in you.

Really?

Yes really.

It’s not that you didn’t want someone in your life, it’s just that the man you did want didn’t have a clue you existed, and he wasn’t the type of man you could just cutely ask on a date. 

It’s so embarrassing that I sent that to the wrong person.

Don’t feel embarrassed. You look great.

Thanks 🙂

I would never feel confident enough to send a picture like that.

I wouldn’t have been confident enough a year ago either. But the right person can change that.

You think Amy is the right person after she gave you the wrong number?!

I meant a therapist and a personal trainer, but sure, make me out to be shallow 🙁

Another laugh bubbles out of you,

I didn’t mean it like that!

I know, I was just checking ;) 

Jerk

You’re still smiling when the mystery man sends another winking emoji, but you don’t respond. You’ll probably block the number tomorrow, but for now, you just enjoy the rest of your movie.

You’d almost forgotten about the mystery torso man when he suddenly appears in your inbox the following evening. Part of you wants to ignore him, all you want is some take-out food and a bath to drown your sorrows after a really bad day, but the other part of you welcomes his interruption. For a complete stranger, he doesn’t stress you out. Maybe it’s because you can’t see him, there’s no deep voice or penetrating eyes to make you uncomfortable. Even the beautiful body glimpsed in the accidental selfie you’d received didn’t bother you, not when it was probably a half decent attempt at catfishing anyway, and since it hadn’t been meant for you, you could excuse it and let it slide.

It’s not like you were planning on meeting the man, anyway.

Hey Wrong Number Girl, I hope you had a good day today.

BTW, tell me if you want me to delete this number.

BTW BTW did you see that I know some acronyms now?

Hi Selfie Guy. Listen, I’ve had a really crappy day. I’ll talk to you later.

No you don’t need to delete my number.

Well done on knowing basic text speak in 2023 <3 

What happened today? Do you want to talk about it?

It hurt that this complete stranger cared more than anyone that actually knew you, your heart twisted a little at his gentle probing, so you quickly type out a response,

Just a boss of mine yelled at me. 

It hadn’t been so much of him yelling at you, then your boss had absolutely eviscerated you because there had been a successful low level hack in some of the employee databases for the SHIELD workers. None of it was dire, but it was an area you were responsible for. 

“It’s not good enough, Y/L/N! Fix this mistake! Another error like this and…” He’d glared at you and stalked off, leaving you with the knowledge that this shouldn’t have happened, you had had no idea of how it could happen… and that your crush had been outside the cubicle you worked in and heard the whole thing.

Want me to kill him?

Yeah, sure, just let me have a bath in peace.

Thank you though. It’s sweet you would offer.

TTYL.

(I learned another one!)

You can’t help it. You smile.

You don’t hear back from your Selfie Man for the rest of the night, and you’re quietly grateful, it means you have time to work on the issue that you’d nearly been arrested for. You hadn’t been able to figure it out in the pressure cooker hours in your cubicle, but now you’re safe back in your home it becomes clearer almost instantly, and you quickly remedy the situation before sending a thorough report off to your boss. It’s silly really, it’s an amature attempt to hack information, the most the hacker could've got was low level staff’s numbers or emails, and that was for their personal information, not even anything that SHIELD issued. 

You shrug it off and conclude that it was probably teenagers, and suggest that maybe the IP should be monitored, maybe this person was someone SHIELD could recruit in the future - or add to a watchlist.

You expect to have a more formal meeting when you’re in the next morning but you’re told your boss had left and handed in his notice with immediate effect. Instead, you have the meeting with your new boss, and your report is signed off. 

You don’t say it, but you’re more relieved than you had expected. Just over a year ago you had been given this opportunity, and you wanted it to work. You wanted this big work environment, you wanted to feel like you belonged, that you mattered, that people cared. You weren’t a loner by choice, you had always wanted friends, but people were harder to talk to then you liked. Computers had always been where you could turn to relax, so when you were recruited, you’d hoped you’d be with people like you, make real connections.

So far you were no better off, you had a cubicle in a small windowless room, surrounded by others, with almost no contact because, of course, everything was highly sensitive.

Still, you liked your work. Maybe you could get promoted to working directly with Maria, Fury… The Avengers.

Did you have a better day today, Wrong Number Girl?

I did, Selfie Guy. How about you?

Me too! I was able to help a friend out, which always makes me happy.

That’s nice. I hope they appreciate it.

I’m sure they will.

I mean they DO.

But I’m hoping they’ll show me. One day.

You’re eating a mouthful of food, and your smile drops a bit.

Is this Amy?

No! But yeah… a girl.

Had a crush for a while.

She doesn’t know though.

You should tell her!

I will, when the time is right.

What about you?

Your crush’s face pops into your head, and just the thought of him makes your face burn.

Oh, I don’t have a crush. 

Your mysterious friend takes so long to reply that you almost think he’s gotten busy or has finally decided that texting a wrong number doesn’t a friendship make, but then he comes back after another hour and you’re reading in bed,

So, what’s your favourite movie?

You just don’t see the harm, the danger, the worry. The mystery man is nice, and you’re lonely, so you talk well into the night. The sun's rays are kissing the edges of your curtains when you yawn so wide your jaw cracks, 

I should go. I’m supposed to be at work in an hour.

Okay. 

Thank you for talking to me so much.

Thank you.

Hey.

What’s your name?

Another pause, you think maybe he’s fallen asleep - you certainly want to - but then he comes back once more,

It’s James.

Now you, doll.

It’s Y/N.

That’s a real pretty name, Y/N.

Thank you for being my friend.

You should sleep.

Sadly you can’t do that, but you don’t tell your friend - James - you just tell him you’ll call in and then say goodbye.

When you get to work you see your crush, and once again he looks like he could kill you with just a look. Bucky stares right at you as you walk to your cubicle, and your heart rate speeds up, but not so much in lust for a change. Bucky looks furious with you, but you have to remind yourself, he looks that way most of the time, you once saw him glaring as he ate a cupcake for god’s sake. Besides, he doesn’t even know you, you’ve never spoken to him in your life, so what could he possibly be furious at you for?

You chalk it up to your exhaustion, and forget about it.

So, I got a question to ask you, doll.

Oh?

It had been three months since James had accidentally sent you his selfie, and in that time you could admit to yourself that he was the best friend you’d ever had. Every evening after coming home you would see a message from him, and almost the entire night was spent with him almost as well as if he had been in the room with you. You would giggle over his teasing as you cooked and cleaned, you’d pause shows and books so you could send long ranting messages about everything from work to fiction, and you would crawl into bed at the end of the night with his words shining at you in the dark.

James was your best friend… but you might be falling in love with him too.

Do you trust me?

Is that the question? 

You know I do, dumbass.

And the crazy thing was; you did. James had never done anything to make you scared of him, he’d never pushed for more personal information from you, he’d given you space when you needed it, and even though you texted each other most days, he clearly had a life, there had been times when he wouldn’t be in touch because he had to travel for work.

My ass is great actually, it’s not dumb!

Well, that’s just what someone with a dumb ass would say.

You go hot thinking about his ass though. You still didn’t know what he looked like, he’s only ever sent you that one picture, and he had never asked you to send one in return… but you just knew he would be gorgeous all over…

Y/N… I am crazy for you. Would you consider meeting up with me?

Your mind hazes for a split second, and the words on the screen blur. You start to type a response, but then stop, you try again, and mess the words up…

I’ve been falling for you since I first knew you. I’ve never been this close to anyone.

I want to know this last part of you, but a beautiful face to a beautiful name.

What if I don’t live up to that, James?

You know all my likes and dislikes, and you know about the crazy dream I had two weeks ago where I was a mermaid, but seeing me might destroy something.

I’m not sure I’m ready to lose you.

I’ll only disappoint you.

You could never disappoint me, doll.

You just stare at that response, trying so hard to think of some way to make him understand that he inevitably would be disappointed with you because everyone always was. You couldn’t keep friends, you hadn’t had a lover in such a long time that you didn’t want to think about it. You were a loner by design if not by choice, and he was the only person who had ever even tried to know you better. The friendship would break if it became real.

I get so excited when I know I’m about to talk to you, I smile when I think about being able to hear your voice in my ear.

I love seeing you tell me everything that has been bothering you at work, but I want to be able to hold you when you’re that stressed out.

I want you to be the person I come home to after I travel.

And you know what, doll?

“What?” You whisper to the room as if he can hear you, but he replies anyway, like he’s on a roll,

I bet you get excited over me too.

I bet if you were to touch yourself now that you’d be wet just thinking about how well I would kiss you.

“Fucking shit…” Your thighs clench, your heartbeat pounds, your fingers trail over your stomach…

I’m hard just thinking about it.

And not just kissing your mouth.

I want your other lips.

I want to taste you so badly.

You’re not responding to him, but James obviously knows you’re reading the messages, he knows you well enough, and you read breathlessly, fingers circling your clit as he continues,

Your mouth would feel so good wrapped around me.

I bet you’d swallow.

I know no one will take care of you like I will.

I just want to have a chance showing you how much I’ll love you.

James is being crude, so crude you almost giggle like an immature teenager, but you don’t stop touching yourself, and after another moment you come against your hand. It’s been a long time since you’d done that, and the loneliness was almost too much in that moment. You’re sticky, you’re alone, and this man - a stranger who’s not a stranger - he wants to be with you. He likes you, he’s stuck around, and he wants you.

And if you meet him and you’re not actually compatible and he does desert you? Well… it’s not like you weren’t used to it.

Baby?

I’m sorry.

I came on too strong.

FUCK!

I’m so sorry!

Please don’t block me, please don’t hate me, I just wanted you to know I don’t need to see your face to know I love you.

Will tomorrow evening be too soon?

James sends a string of gifs showing how excited and happy he is, and you laugh in the darkness. You make plans to meet at a restaurant tomorrow evening, a big family place a couple of blocks over from Times Square, large and loud and always filled with people. You fall asleep with a smile on your face.

You had had to call in sick to work, your nerves threatened to choke you throughout the day, you couldn’t eat, couldn’t do anything other than panic over every last possible outcome, and then have a manic two hours in the bathroom pampering and scrubbing and shaving and making yourself look as perfect as humanly as possible.

You might want to sleep with James, desperately, especially after what he’d texted the night before, but ideally you wanted to wait until at least another month after regular dates. Primping and adding makeup and wearing pretty underwear just made you feel more confident, that’s all.

You leave your apartment with plenty of time, you wanted to be there before James, to get your bearings and take a moment before he appeared. You step into the elevator, eyes down and focused on the screen of your phone where a message has just pinged, and you frown,

I couldn’t wait.

“What?”

By the time you realise there’s someone at your back in the elevator, it’s too late, the needle pricks the side of your neck, and you fall into a stranger's arms.

You wake but it’s hard to open your eyes. Everything is dark, you’re too hot, and you’re too cold, you feel stifled and restricted, whilst also feeling weightless and light, like the touch of a breeze would send you reeling away like dandelion fluff or like a rubber ball bouncing or like-

Your head clears between one breath and the next, and you wish you’d never woken up.

You’re in the lap of a man, straddling his hips, your arms are tied at your back, and his mouth is at your chest. The buttons on the pretty silk shirt you’d worn are open to the waist, your beautiful lace bra has been opened and is pushed up and over your head leaving you essentially naked from the waist up and his tongue is carefully tracing over one nipple whilst your other is being rolled between two fingers.

Two metal fingers.

“Bucky?!”

“Hi, doll, I’m sorry, I know I should’ve waited, but you looked so fucking hot against my sheets, I couldn’t wait anymore.” His blue eyes peer up at you, his words punctuated intermittently by his continued fondling and tasting of your breasts, “You’ve got such great tits, I needed them in my mouth.”

“What the fuck is this?! Let me go! Stop it stop it stop it!” You struggle against his hold, shrieking and moaning as he holds you against him, one hand at your hip, his lips now at your neck, his breath in your ear, 

“It’s me, sweetheart, it’s me, James, come on now, calm down, calm down…” He doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop touching you, and eventually you tire, and collapse against him, tears pouring from your eyes as he lifts you as easily as you would lift a puppy, and walks you over to a bed at your back, laying you against it and coming down next to you. You notice then that you’re in a large studio apartment, you can see the skyline through the gigantic windows, the place is minimalistic but beautiful, and you’ve never been so scared in your life. Bucky’s hands are still at your breasts, and you close your eyes, trying to block him out.

James, the man you’d trusted everything to, was Bucky Barnes, the scary Avenger that you’d had a long time crush on…

“It can’t be…”

“What can’t, baby?”

“It can’t be you… your picture…”

Bucky presses a quick kiss to your lips, a smile on his face, and you’re too shocked at his apparent joviality to react. He stops touching you long enough to sit up and press something on his left arm, the metal shimmers, and then the dark metal appears as the same beautiful tan colour as his right arm, 

“Like it? I worked with Shuri for the upgrade. It’s supposed to help me blend in on missions, and keep me more incognito when I’m out and about, but I knew it would help me with you.”

“You don’t even like me!” You cry out indignantly, squirming when he bends his head and sucks a nipple into his mouth again, grazing his teeth over the peak, “You always look at me like you hate me!”

“Because you don’t take care of yourself and you work too hard!” Bucky comes up for air, a frown on his face, hair dishevelled, “I didn’t know how to talk to you, I promise I was always going to tell you who I was, but I needed to know if you would really like me. Most people are afraid, or they have some dumb kink about my arm. I knew you were different, but I wanted to be sure.”

“Let me go, please, I won’t tell anyone, I won’t, I promise!”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Bucky suddenly grabs you around the neck, the fingers tanned but as firm as the metal they really are, and you go absolutely still. He’s not choking you, but there’s a look in his eyes… “I love you, I have done so much for you, I have looked over you whilst you’ve slept, I’ve kept an eye on you at work, I’ve checked up on you, and I’ve killed for you. Who else can say that?”

Your old boss’s face pops in your brain and a tear falls out of the corner of your eye,

Want me to kill him?

Yeah, sure, just let me have a bath in peace.

Thank you though. It’s sweet you would offer.

Your lower lip trembles, Bucky’s eyes go dark as his own trace the movement, 

“I didn’t mean for you to actually kill him, B-Bucky…”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby.” His smile sends a tremor over you, goosebumps rise and again Bucky stares, his eyes fixated on your tits again, “I heard you call my name last night, saw your hand in between your legs… you should be thanking me, Y/N, I could’ve taken you from your bed last night, fucked you then and there and dragged you naked and still leaking my cum.” He sighs when you squirm again, “You need to get used to this. No one is going to miss you, you told me that, and my apartment is soundproof, hack proof, and the windows are made from bullet proof glass and no one can see inside. I could fuck you against them with a CNN helicopter right outside and never make the evening news.” Another kiss to the swell of your breast, and another eerie smile, “I built this place for you when I first saw you last year. I knew it then, that you would be my girl.”

You believe him. Part of you has already accepted that you can’t fight him, that you can’t escape, that you let him into your life and now you’ll pay for it, but you can’t help but show some defiance. You spit at him, satisfied when it lands in his eye and he rears back on a curse, 

“You’re a fucking monster! I will never be your girl! I hate you!”

Bucky cleans his eye and stops, his gaze down at the mattress. For a second you think that maybe he’s giving up, maybe he’ll let you go… but then he surges over you, a wildness in his eyes that chills your blood. His fingers press against your jaw, and you open your mouth on a sob of pain, and he promptly spits in your mouth, forcing your jaw closed so you have no choice but to swallow it. You wince when he tears open the top of the jeans you’re wearing, the button flying away somewhere into the large space, and squeeze your eyes shut when he pushes his hand past the hem of your underwear, 

“Well, you’d better start loving me, baby. This monster is going to have three fingers buried inside your tight cunt in less than five minutes… let’s see if you’re wet just thinking about it, huh?”

Just a Feeling

Ghost's staring intently at his phone in the passenger seat as Kyle slides in the back with Johnny. Price is flicking on the blinker to pull back into traffic when he mutters. "Gotta swing by the flat 'fore we go t' the pub."

"Everythin' alright?" Price asks as he swings the truck around back towards Simon's place.

Simon grunts. "Missus is actin' weird."

"What'd you mean?" Kyle questions from the back seat and instead of answering Ghost just leans back to show them his screen.

Johnny laughs. "I ken you're not one for socializing LT, but tha's normal conversation."

"Gotta agree with the broom head - at most she doesn't want you staying out late." Kyle shrugs adding his two cents. Ghost just grunts again in response, still staring down at his phone.

Despite their doubts they dutifully trail after him as he unlocks the apartment door.

"The hell ya doin' on the floor?" He immediately bursts out when it opens.

"Oh hey Si - thought you weren't going to be home until later?" He's cupping your elbows and lifting you up to stand as you question him but he hums.

"Ya sat down and couldn't get up again didn't ya?"

"They're getting heavy!" Indignant, you huff as you slide a hand possessively over your rounded belly.

He makes sure you're settled on the couch before they leave.

𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 | masterlist

pairing: patrick bateman x fem!reader

— warnings: nsfw content ! bondage, rope, ptrick bateman, p in v, mentions of murderous urges

summary: There's a thin line between pleasure and pain. Patrick lets you walk that line — if anyone else did, it would snap.

"Do you like it?”

Patrick’s voice is sultry, calm; a lewd illusion of the man he is, the desire which consumes him. Being bound to his bed with rope is surreal - you squirm under his cool touch, trying to hide the discomfort which pulsates through you.

“It’s different.” Your voice is hoarse, but you’re honest, and Patrick grins in response. “It feels too tight.”

“I could’ve made it tighter.” Patrick's breath fans your neck, and you’re suddenly more aware of how out-of-place he looks. Whilst you’re naked, splayed in front of him ready to be devoured, he’s fully dressed in a Valentino, classic charcoal, pinstriped double-breasted suit. His suited arms reach up towards your bound wrists, and your eyes flitter shut as you imagine what he would look like naked - how his arms would flex as he loosens the rope slightly. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Patrick.”

His hum of approval vibrates through you, as his fingers dart over your thighs, before slowly trailing toward your cunt. “I want to do terrible things to you. Do you know that? I want to—“ Patrick’s fingers shake slightly and his voice wavers, his digits darting over your slits and finding a home in your cunt. “—I want to ruin you.”

“But you won’t.” Your eyes squeeze shut as his fingers curl inside you, his hand growing slick with your wetness. Satisfied squelches echo across his bedroom, and your stomach tightens with each come hither motion of his fingers.

“But I won’t.” Patrick agrees, letting out a shaky breath that jitters against your neck. “Because when I start ruining you, I’m not going to be able to stop. I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll wish you were dead and maybe at the end of it all, you would be.”

“So I’m spared,” you breathe, a broken mewl slipping past your lips as Patrick’s fingers effortlessly flicker you closer and closer to an orgasm. There is an imaginary coil inside of you, and it feels as though it is going to snap - the ever-growing pressure on the special spot inside of your cunt is constant, and his motions are consistent, specialized. “You’ll spare me?”

“I’ll do more than spare you. I’m going to fuck you like I love you and maybe I do, but then again, maybe I don’t.”

The crassness of his voice, the harshness of his words, and the overwhelming stimulant of his fingers fucking you so good is what sends you over the edge. The coil snaps - breaks in half, sending shockwaves of electricity pulsing through you, your legs shaking as Patrick continues to toy with your cunt, a bored expression on his face.

“My suit is drenched in your cum.” Patrick comments, slathering your wet against your thighs and stomach, crinkling his nose as he gently begins to undress himself. “Remind me to take this to the dry-cleaners, later.”

The conversation is so… nonchalant, so familiar. He talks to you like he’d talk to a lover - but are you his partner or just his plaything? Cold engulfs you and you shiver, but Patrick tuts, his cock hard and red as he nestles himself between your thighs.

“You’re cold.” He notes.

“I am.” You reply.

Patrick is odd - weird, a loser, but he consumes you. All you can think of day and night is Patrick, his slender fingers and skillful tongue, his angry and red cock which stuffs you perfectly and leaves you forever wanting. “What are you doing?”

Patrick’s fingers toy with the rope on your wrists. “Are they still too tight?”

“No. You fixed them earlier.” It makes your face flush when his cock presses against your slits, somehow perfectly aligned with your clit as he reaches further forward to loosen the restraints a tiny bit more. “Patrick-“

“I think you’re the only person I could ever love,” Patrick interrupts randomly with a mumble, repositioning himself and opening your thighs slightly wider. “If I tried. I could be a good husband, you know, a good father. Do you want that?”

Is he talking to you or himself? You don’t know anymore, letting him ramble on as he slowly pushes his cock inside of you. And it’s amazing - of course - it’s instant ecstasy because you were made for him, and he for you. You sheath him perfectly - and a broken moan bubbles up your throat as he snaps his hips slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in thought and his fingers digging into your thighs, his grip so tight it’s going to leave behind bruises.

“I will never hurt you.” Patrick tells himself - reassures himself, because you know it’s a lie as he’s hurting you right now. All he does is hurt you, leaves you insecure and violated, feeling guilty for the marks you’ve let him leave behind, feeling anguish as he leaves you for his skanky fiancé, night after night. “I will never hurt you. I can’t. I won’t. Do you hear me?”

Quiet gasps leave you as Patrick peppers gentle kisses against your chest. He groans into your skin as he fucks you, his balls heavy and sore as they smack into your ass. The rhythm he has is perfect - hard and slow, and the curve of his cock hits the special spot inside of you and it just feels so, so good. Everything feels amazing - feels perfect. You’re engulfed in him, the scent of his cologne and the nestling of his cock inside of you, and what have you done to deserve this?

“Do you hear me?” Patrick is slightly breathless, his eyes somewhat starry, and he looks down at you with something that could resemble adoration. And you gaze back, lovingly, because you love him, and you nod your head, but you don’t hear him - not really, because you’re too focused on feeling him.

And he feels good. It’s like you’re milking his cock - so tight and clenched down around him as the imaginary coil begins to wither away, your belly growing warm with each snap of his hips. “I want that, Patrick.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he tells himself as he tugs on the rope, leaving your skin burning in its wake. “I won’t.”

You can hear him. It’s a battle with himself. There is a thin line between pleasure and pain with Patrick, and he lets you walk that line. And he will continue to let you do so. Because you walk it prim and proper. You’re so focused on his words; "I could be a good husband, you know, a good father. Do you want that?" that you don’t care when he grips your face so hard it feels like your cheekbones are going to smash and your skull is going to turn into putty.

“Patrick," you gasp, incoherent as you feel his cum begin to fill you. "I want all of you.”

taglist: @makeyoumine69

husband!rafe dad!rafe feels some time of way abt his baby girl getting her shots.

rafe cameron x reader

You were slowly putting last-minute essentials into the baby’s diaper bag. The little giggles heard from the baby monitor make you smile. Rafe was downstairs with your 7-month-old daughter. Today you were getting ready to head to her check-up appointment. Rafe coming up with a billion excuses for you to cancel. He did not want his precious baby girl to get her vaccines today. “I’d fuckin kill them if they’d make her cry y/n” You would kiss his grumpy face assuring him that she’d be fine.

“Where’s my ari girl?” You gasped smiling bright as she was currently being attacked by the tickle monster: her father. Her belly laughs quickly turning in hiccups. “Baby see how smiley she is this morning?” Rafe turned her towards you. All gummy smiles and a sweet baby mumble followed. “We can’t let them ruin her mood with a needle.” You sighed “Rafe, she needs her vaccines im sorry.” You reached for your baby girl tilting your head when Rafe held her against his chest.

“Do ya really wanna go with your mommy?” Rafe scoffed as Ari squirmed in his arms reaching towards you. “I’m trying to protect you baby..” Rafe placed a kiss on both of her chubby cheeks before giving her up and placing one onto your lips. “You’ll be right back in my arms once you realize where she has us taking you.” He pointed a finger at his oblivious daughter. Ari reached forward grasping his finger and biting into it. “Babe look she’s teething we can’t put her through more pain!”

You giggled loving this dynamic you and your little family had after everything. Never in a million years would you imagine “big bad Rafe” Everyone spoke about having a crisis over his daughter getting her shots.