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Behind a Face Mask of Charm ~ Patrick Bateman

Chapter Text

I'm [Y/N].

I live in a small flat in New York City.

I work in an investment firm on Wall Street called Pierce & Pierce.

And I'm on my 2nd date with my co-worker, Patrick Bateman. 


"[Y/N], you're zoning out." Patrick says, breaking my thought. "Sorry." I reply, he didn't call me the wrong name this time. That's the first. "Anyways, you like Huey Lewis & the News?" Patrick asks me, I hesitate for a moment and chew on my lip. Trying to recall a song from them, I remember a chorus from either MTV or the radio. "Oh, yeah! I'm familiar." I reply giving a small smile. I continue to smile as Patrick took a sip from his drink. The silence was awkward, but you need an awkward moment or two in a relationship. Thing is, Patrick's stare was distant, cold.

I remember when I first met Patrick, it was a few months ago. He always called me "Evelyn" or "Sabrina", eventually he actually learned my name. It's odd. Everyone calls everyone the wrong name. Some even look exactly the same! I've been working at Pierce & Pierce for nearly 3 years now and some don't even know my name. My two friends Eva and Alisson and I have talked about him. Eva thinks I'm weird for thinking Patrick looks good. Alisson's too strong for some sad, office romance. I remember screaming to Eva and Alisson, showing them the white and gold business card that had Patrick's name and number on it. 

"So, Patrick." 

"Yes [Y/N]?"

"Why me?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you want me to call you? Go out with you?"

"I want to talk to you, take you out, see what your head looks like on a stick."

"What was the last part?" I tilt my head and smile, satisfied with the answer given to me.

"You look lovely." Patrick corrected himself.  

"Oh thank you, but you're way too good looking. God, it's nice to know that a guy I'm talking to  isn't a fucking serial killer." I joke, keeping the smile. This made Patrick's cold, almost dead eyes light up.  Patrick began to laugh, I thought the joke wasn't that funny. Honestly , his face was red and tears formed in the corners of his gorgeous eyes.

After that, we really connected. We talked into the late hours of the night. We both drank, maybe a little too much and made out in the cab. Patrick insisted I stay at his apartment. So, I did. I slept on the sofa, like a dumbass.  

My eyes open to a Saturday morning, lines of light pouring into the room from the blinded window. I stumble up from the couch, jeez this white interior is bright. "Patrick?" I call, "I think I should go.". I grab my coat and head to the door, only for someone to grab my wrist. "Don't go yet. Don't you atleast want to shower?" Patrick says as I turn to him. "Uhm sure, thank you." I smile, realising I must look like a mess.

I walk back to the living room and set my coat back down. I then head to the bathroom. I turn on the water and undress as I wait for it to warm up. I step into the shower, taking in the steam and feeling the warm water hit against my skin. "Mind if I join?" a deep voice says, placing hands on my waist. I turn and smile, "Of course.".

I felt insecure from Patrick rubbing his clensers on me and from his insane perfect body. After I finished washing Patrick's  hair, Patrick slammed his lips to mine. I kiss back, parting my lips to allow Patrick's tongue entrance. 

I find myself pinned against the wall. Patrick bites and sucks on my neck, claiming me as his own. I wrap my legs around his waist, rubbing against his now hard cock. I moan out to each tender touch. Patrick then gets impatient and slams his hips into me.

I moan out again, louder this time. Patrick and I seemed to perfectly fit together. Patrick lets out a low groan, "God, you're tight.". His voice was low and dark, I could cum to his voice alone. Each thrust forced out a moan, each of my moans caused Patrick to thrust faster and harder.

"Let everyone in this building know you're mine. No, the whole street.".

I moan louder over the jets of water. I feel a slight sting on my ass, where Patrick's hand now rests. I pant feeling my stomach begin to knot, nearly reaching my climax. Patrick pulls out. I wimper, my built up climax now gone.

"Not until I say so." Patrick says, then slamming into me again. Feeling Patrick's cock pump in and out of me, makes me feel full. As Patrick gains a faster pace, I begin to slam against the wall. Patrick's thrusts begin to get sloppy, my groans louder and my finger nails digging into the male's back. He stops again. 

I groan. Patrick smirks and grabs the shower head. Patrick dismounts the shower head and begins to angle it in different ways. He finds an angle that hit my clit just right and toyed with me. "Take this." He hands me the shower head.

I keep one arm around Patrick as my other tries to stimulate myself. I begin to feel small pricks of electricity as I start panting. Patrick begins thrusting again. The shower head and Patrick's cock pumping in and out of me is too much. Patrick's thrusts begin to get sloppy once more. I begin to feel my high as my toes curl and moan out Patrick's name. I drop the shower head. Patrick pulls out, cumming on my lower abdomen."I want to cut you up and play with your blood~". 

Patrick let's me down with support. We clean up and Patrick explains every small detail in his routine. Facemasks and great sex? Best morning to me.

         

  

 

 

 

Chapter Text

I live in the American Garden Buildings on West Eighty-First Street, on the eleventh 
floor.

My name is Patrick Bateman.

I am twenty-six years old.

I work at Pierce and Pierce as an investment banker. 


 I sit in my office, looking at the neatly stacked paperwork that lays on my desk. My headphones, best of quality of course, lay on the top of my head and the music plays into my ears. I look up out the window and spot [Y/N]. She's actually quite presentable today. Her skirt goes to her knee, it's tight enough the zipper goes along the arch of her back. Imagine her gutted and decapitated in that. I wonder what her blood tastes like, I think it would be sweet. Too bad I didn't kill her that morning as she was pushed against the shower wall. I could've bathed in her blood and fucked her body for hours.  I find myself frustrated, why didn't I take that chance? 

I huff standing up. I then quickly rub my hands down my Valentino suit, pushing out the wrinkles. I walk out of my office. Hurried footsteps rush towards me. My secretary reaches my gaze. "Paul Allen. Tonight, 7:00" she says. I stop, taking my headphones off, the music softly playing still. "Wear a dress next time." I reply, then I turn and continue. Shit. I forgot about Paul.


I stand behind Paul, the style section taped along the ground. The upbeat tune of 'Hip to be Square' filling the room.

"It's not just about the pleasures of conformity and the importance of trends." I say grabbing the axe next to me, "It's also a personal statement about the band itself!". I look into the blade, greeted by the reflection.

"Hey Paul!"

Paul turns to me and gives a silent scream as I lift the axe. I swing it down, Paul's body falling forward. I follow behind and grab the axe.

"TRY GETTING A RESERVATION AT DORSIA NOW YOU FUCKING STUPID BASTARD!"

I swing the axe more at his limp body. Blood spilling on the taped down style section and splattering against my raincoat. The sight is arousing as I look at the mess of gore. My mind wonders over to [Y/N] being in the position.

Suddenly, there's loud banging on the front door. I briskly walk over and open the door. It was [Y/N]. What the fuck is she doing here?

"Hey, can you please-! Patrick! I didn't know you were here. What happened?" [Y/N] asks. I don't care at this point. I pull her into my apartment, pressing her lips against mine. 

I push her away from the living room and into my bedroom. I push her onto the bed and command, "Stay here.".

She sits on the bed as I leave the room. I walk out past Paul and into the kitchen. I look at the woodem block that had knife handles sticking out. I gladly grab the largest of the bunch and head back. 

[Y/N] notices the knife and says, "Patrick, look I-". 

"Shut up." I say. I approach her and take the knife to her skirt, cutting the fabric. I do this to the remanding clothes on her body.

I peel away my own clothing and pick up [Y/N]. With her legs wrapped around my waist, I push her against my full sized mirror. I thrust into her tight heat, earning a moan. I watch myself in the mirror, thrusting in and out.

I build up a quicker pace, hearing [Y/N] say "I'm going to cum, Patrick.".

I smirk, turning quickly with one hand still holding [Y/N]. I grab the knife. I turn back, watching myself in the mirror. I shove the knife into the girls soft stomach.

[Y/N] chokes another moan as I thrust into her again. Blood pours from the wound. I pull out the knife and throw it to the side. My finger takes the knives place. I lick the blood from my finger and smile. 

By the time I finished, her body had gone cold.