LEAVE YOUR BOYFRIEND

Kinda smutty but: Imagine the Sinclairs in a craze for you…

Vincent coming up behind you and wrapping his string arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck, kissing your skin, loving you. He whimpers lightly until you look at him. He stops and kisses your lips, holding you closer and tighter until you melt away. He spins you around and lifts you up; you weigh nothing him. He kisses until you both pull away breathless. You hold his face and rests against his forehead, hanging your arms over his shoulders as he carries you to his bed. Vincent lays you down and treats you like royalty, taking everything nice and slow, rough and tender. He loves you so much that he doesn’t know what to do sometimes besides being near you.

Lester lifting you up to sit on his tailgate so he could rest his head in your chest, hands running up and down your thighs before warping you in a warm embrace. Your hands taking his hat off so you can play with his flatten curls while his kisses linger down your jaw over your neck. He just wants you in his arms and litter you with so much kisses while mumbling “I love you” the whole time. Then he cups your cheeks and kisses you deeply and passionately, bruising your lips until they’re numb. His hands fall over your breast and massages you, whispering your name like a prayer, and he praises you like you’re his god. He’s so much in love with you that it drives him over the edge sometimes.

Bo having a bad day and just sees you coming to the shop with a jug of sweet peach ice tea. Him just meeting you in front of the shop to lift you up by your legs and smash his lips against yours. He wants you more and more, deeper and deeper the pit in his chest grows for you. He smiled against your lips and sits you on the front counter, kissing your neck, nipping at your skin, repeating “mine; all mine” until he’s so drunk off your scent he can’t stop staring at you, and his hands are so focused on rubbing your arms, thighs, neck. His lost eyes closing as he leans into your hands, kissing the palms and starts praising you for every little thing you do. “Le’me worship you, darlin’,” he’ll drawl, his southern voice so deep and heavy as he kisses you again. “Need you, sweetheart. Need ya bad.” And he lifts you up again only to carry you to a tailgate in the shop, lowering you down, kissing and marking you all over because he wants more and more and more of you. Bo loves you so much that he would burn for you, kill for you, die for you, hunt for you— everything he does, he’ll do it for you until you tell him to stop.

BRIAN VAN HOLT as Bo Sinclair in House of Wax (2005)

Please add credit if you repost outside of tumblr!

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I kept seeing this cold wall/sleep arrangement meme and wanted to give it my own spin, I hope this has been informative.

❛ 0X81=JUST OURS ˖ 𖥔  ָ࣪ ❜

PAIRING: WOLFSTAR X FEM!READER

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

GENRE: ANGST & FLUFF

Sirius and Remus never really denied being possessive of you. You were theirs, just as they were yours. It was as simple as that. On most occasions, they couldn’t stand pairs of eyes ogling their girlfriend. The eyes that looked at you with lust and longing, and while that did aggravate your two boyfriends, they relished in the glints of envy held in the eyes of others.

They claimed you were only theirs—to look at, to touch, to love. They made it clear on every occasion, especially Sirius. Sirius was something of an exhibitionist; he enjoyed behaving extravagantly around every boy who even dared to spare a glance at his girl. He proudly stole you away, pressing a firm kiss on your lips, quite unlike Remus, who simply wrapped his arm around your waist, staring them down.

You had told them a day ago that Derek Edwards, funnily enough, a very intelligent Ravenclaw boy, asked you to help him on his potions essay. While you were skilled in potions, Derek was too, stirring up suspicion between Remus and Sirius.

Of course, it’s not as if they didn’t trust you, but Derek had a reputation amongst the students of Hogwarts. Incredibly funny, smart, not to mention, handsome. It was no surprise to them if he went after you, equally, if not more beautiful than him. Absolutely perfect in everyone’s eyes.

Of course, it’s not as if they didn’t trust you, but Derek had a reputation amongst the students of Hogwarts. Incredibly funny, smart, not to mention, handsome. It was no surprise to them if he went after you, equally, if not more beautiful than him. Absolutely perfect in everyone’s eyes.

And their suspicions were right. While you were doing your best to help Derek, his gaze remained on you, fixating on your lips and chest, mindlessly nodding to whatever you’d say.

Sirius scoffed bitterly, bouncing his knee almost frantically, staring at the Ravenclaw’s utter desire for you. “Fuckin’ look at him, Moony.” He spits bitterly. “Look at the way he fuckin’ looks at her.”

Remus inhales sharply, breaking his glare from Derek to you. His eyes softened as he scanned your face, looking for any particular fondness or affection. His lips pursed as he watched you laugh shyly, probably at a compliment given to you by the light-haired boy.

“C’mon love, you can’t deny it! You’re the smartest girl in our year, not to mention the prettiest.” Derek purred, resting his hand on your knee.

You shook your head, laughing as he continued his attempts to fluster you. “You’re too kind, Derek.” You smiled at him genuinely. The possibility of another good friend warmed your chest, and Derek’s essay was long gone. You discovered you and him had similar interests, liking most of the same books and the occasional muggle TV Shows.

Of course, what you didn’t know was that Derek was nodding carelessly to everything you mentioned, flickering his eyes from your lips to the frame of your body, and finally, the hand of his stroking your knee.

Remus felt his stomach churn at the sight of your smile; towards a boy that wasn’t him or Sirius. He gripped his quill tightly, swallowing hard as he tried his best to take his eyes off you. The full moon was approaching and he couldn’t risk doing something rash, especially when it concerns topics as sensitive as you.

Sirius on the other hand was practically losing his mind, eyes bulging from his sockets as he noticed Derek’s hand on your knee. He slowly felt the demon inside consume every inch of his body, burning away the remaining logic and reason within his heart. All that was left was resentment and hatred towards the boy sitting beside you.

“Fuck—Moony—I can’t fucking do this—look at the gits fuckin’ hand!” He whispered harshly, glaring at Remus who found the scars on his hands particularly interesting.

Remus tried to resist, but his ears pricked up at your sudden giggle. He stiffened, snapping his neck up to where Sirius was pointing, and—fuck—he was right.

Remus’ heart sped up at the sight of his hand, but what broke his heart, even more, was that you haven't peeled it off. He willed his hands to stop shaking as he fixed his eyes on your frame.

Internally, he knew how oblivious you were. It was harder than any potions exam he’s ever taken, attempting to prove his interest in you. Though, with the full moon being three days away, every irrational thought he’s ever had plagued his mind. His heart almost ached, the thought of Derek being smarter, perhaps even more handsome was too much to bear.

Remus’ thoughts were interrupted by the sharp scrape of Sirius’ chair against the hardwood floor of the Hogwarts library. Fully prepared to show Derek Edwards who you belonged to, he took one step before he was harshly pulled back by Remus.

Sirius’ eyes hardened and narrowed into slits as he looked up at the lanky boy. “The fuck, Remus?” Remus kept a firm grip on Sirius’ wrist, one that was almost painful. His eyes never left the back of your head as he spoke quietly to Sirius. “Don’t, Pads.”

Sirius’ lip quivered as he searched Remus’ eyes. “Godric, Moony—have you forgotten who Y/N fuckin’ belongs to? Have you forgotten she’s ours? The way that—thing—is looking at our girl?” He spat.

Remus’ voice was calm and collected, quite the contrary to the furious beating of his heart. “You’ll do something you’ll regret. You know she gets attention. I’m sure we have nothing to worry about.” He tried.

Sirius looked at his boyfriend, absolutely appalled. He huffed, looking at you once more before tugging his hand away from Remus’ tight grip. “Fine. But I wanna get out of here. I’ll lose my shit if I look at Edwards ugly face again.” Remus rolled his eyes, and couldn’t help but wish he agreed.

Sirius frantically packed up his bag before slinging it over his shoulder, tugging Remus along, storming away right in front of you.

As you and Derek laughed amongst yourselves, your eyes lightened up at the familiar giants walking past you. “Remus! Sirius! Hey!” You called happily.

Remus froze, looking at Sirius who turned around to meet your eyes. Remus reluctantly did the same, softening at the sight of your smile and hand, eagerly waving at them.

He broke his gaze from you as Sirius tugged his hand, muttering a quiet, “Let’s go, Moony.” Remus nodded hesitantly, looking blankly at you once more before following the shorter boy, not acknowledging your presence besides a mere glance.

Derek narrowed his eyes at them before beaming down at you, seemingly happy by their lack of response. You on the other hand were purely confused. The boys usually wouldn’t waste a second before greeting you with a hug and kiss.

You furrowed your eyebrows, watching them walk away from the library. They probably went to the great hall, you thought, frowning to yourself.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Derek’s hand squeezing your thigh. You jumped, staring at his hand in bewilderment. When did that happen? You glanced at the boy beside you and shifted away from him, suddenly feeling a flood of dread overcome you by the foreign hand on your thigh.

“Oh, uh, Derek.” You cleared your throat as he hummed, smiling slyly down at you. “Dinner’s approaching, let’s finish off things here, alright?” You watched his smile drop before reluctantly nodding. “Oh! Of course.” He grinned.

You nodded slightly before standing up to back your things quickly. You were in a rush to see your boys, they acted so strange minutes ago. Besides, you missed them quite a lot.

Now that the tutoring session was over, you were practically free for the next week. Perhaps a couple of trips to Hogsmeade, you thought, now excited as ever to propose the idea to your boyfriends.

Without sparing a glance or even saying goodbye to Derek, you took off, rushing through the corridors of the school to make it to the great hall, where you presumed Remus and Sirius would be.

Alas, you were right. There they sat, eating quietly, occasionally nodding at James as he howled in laughter. Your eyes lit up as you skipped over to where they were, taking a seat on the wooden bench beside Sirius.

“Sirius!” You cheered, setting your bag down. You smiled at Remus, who only spared you one glance before gesturing to Sirius, who nodded back.

Together, they both stood up and sat on the other side of James, quite far from you. Your heart sank at their actions, watching as they refused to acknowledge you, which was quite strange, as you hadn't done anything wrong, at least, not that you could recall.

Perhaps leaving them alone was the best thing, and the full moon was approaching soon too, so maybe they just wanted to protect you and keep you away, you thought.

A sudden voice in your head erupts. Those are just excuses, it whispers, they’re sick of you. They’ve come to their senses.

Your eyes sting with tears, though you blink them away, shakily exhaling before standing up and walking out of the hall, ignoring the questioning looks from Lily and Marlene.

What you fail to notice is the sinking of Remus’ heart, who droops his shoulders and hangs his head low, feeling a burst of guilt overpowering his fuming jealousy. If he had any appetite in him before, he certainly didn’t now. He was overcome by complete nausea.

He peered up at Sirius shamefully whose eyes were fixed on the entrance of the room, where you once walked out of.

Sirius too, still overcome by anger, felt a sense of longing and anguish. Perhaps it was the best idea to ignore you for now. To cope with the intense feelings inside his heart, to keep him from lashing out at others.

However, after looking at your deflated face, he wants nothing more than to just hold you and ask for reassurance. To hear it from your mouth, you’re all I want, Sirius.

He looked back at Remus, gazing at him pleadingly. Remus nods and together, they both leave their food, friends, and anger, and are set out to look for only you.

As they make their way up the stairs to your dorm, their hearts disposed of all the previous envy they once held. And as they both stood before the door of your dorm, neither could muster up the courage to open it. That fear intensified as they heard your soft sobs and hiccups.

Startled and without thinking, Sirius mutters Alohomora, before twisting the doorknob to reveal your small frame.

Their hearts broke as they looked at you, head lowered in embarrassment as you attempted to wipe your tears frantically. Sirius looked up at Remus to await further instruction, but his heart sank even more as Remus looked at you in utter dread, eyes glossed over.

His stare breaks away from Remus to you as he hears your hoarse voice. “M’sorry…for whatever I-I did. I really am.” You sniffled. “W-What did I even do?” You whimpered, looking up at their tall forms.

Remus shook his head before walking up, hand hesitantly reaching out for you.

“N-Nothing, my love…nothing. It’s just—fuck—it’s just us.” He whispers sorrowfully, stroking your cheek, attempting to wipe your tears away from your face. His other hand reached up to pet your hair soothingly, calming you down.

A sudden gasp could be heard from the corner of the room. Both you and Remus looked up to see Sirius with a look of complete horror on his face. “Y-You…you didn’t know, did you?” He breathed out.

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “Know what?” You urged him to continue, previous sadness now replaced with annoyance as you sat confused as to what caused all this to occur.

“Edwards,” Sirius mutters. “That Edwards was flirting with you.” You shook your head in confusion before your eyes widened in realization. “Jealous,” you began. “You two were jealous?”

Remus shamefully looked down, knowing that you disliked it when they reacted irrationally to their jealousy. “We hadn't seen you in so long, poppet. To see you, with—him,” Remus grunts. “It was horrible.”

“Godric, pup. You should’ve seen the way he looked at you! This whole time! Our darling girl never noticed a thing.” Sirius laughed bitterly, more so to himself for hurting you.

You smiled shyly, before nodding in agreement. “I didn’t. Only until afterward did I notice his hand was on my thigh, but that was it.”

Both their eyes snapped up as they looked at each other furiously, before turning to you with a look of worry. “Your thigh? Last time we saw, his hand was on your knee!” Sirius gritted out before walking towards you, embracing you tightly, peppering quick pecks on your neck. You laughed in amusement as you squirmed away from his touch.

You suddenly looked up at Remus, narrowing your eyes. “Out of all people, I’d think you’d know a thing or two about communication in a relationship.” You pointed out, playfully.

Remus simply rolled his eyes before grinning wolfishly. “We get quite rash when people touch what’s ours, I’d have to admit.”

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ON OTHER SITES — 0x81 ON TUMBLR

i wish you guys lived inside my head the fics in here go crazy

Spit In My Face 2

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

◥ SUMMARY: New York Fashion Week is coming up and you are going to visit your first fashion show in the company of Patrick Bateman himself. The chain of events that happen there will reveal a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew he had.

◥ WARNINGS: NSFW │angst, abusive and toxic behaviour, cheating, Patrick being a dick, nipple play, Daddy kink, mention of injury, manhandling, oral (Patrick receiving), rough vaginal sex, fingering, rough choking, misogyny.

◥ WORDCOUNT: 3.6k

◥ A/N: This chapter contains really triggering topics, so please proceed with caution. As always, I hope you enjoy it! 🥰

◥ SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face🖤

◥ LINKS: [Previous Chapter] [Sweet like a Cupcake Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

Oh, God.  That was so stupid, so reckless.

Annoyed, Patrick stared at you with his hands crossed on his chest. It was too late to run now, so you stood still and heard him saying:

"Are you lost?" With a cocky grin, he picked up his briefcase and stepped closer to you.

"No...I mean, yes. Probably," your cheeks burned from the inside as the strong feeling of embarrassment hit you like a truck. "I was just looking for you and..."

"Aha," he crooned before towering over you, grabbing you possessively by the waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear: "Do you know the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

"I haven't heard it since I was a kid," you confessed, swallowing hard as you watched him taking the dresses from your hands, the mysterious grin never leaving his face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Haughtily, Patrick winked at you, and that was really confusing because his unpredictable mood changes were the most difficult puzzle you had ever known.

“You don’t even want to see which dress I chose?”

"Not really, I'll see it tomorrow anyway," his voice sounded more stern now. "Unless you change your mind about going with me.”

He cast a challenging glance at you, but before you had a chance to reply, Bateman walked past you and gestured for you to follow. Slightly disappointed, you went after him and soon you made it to the hall where all this shit started.

"So, did the young lady find something to her taste?" The stylist asked as soon as he saw you coming. 

"Yep," Patrick let him pick up the dresses and put them on the big table next to the beautiful leather couch on which Bateman kept looking in disgust and you didn't even know why. "(Y/N), c'mon, point with your finger to which dress you like?"

The way he cooed to you was absolutely stunning. Sometimes it seemed like he could read you like an open book, and that only made you feel insecure.

"I think this one." You replied with a shy smile.

"Nice, very nice!" Mr. Graham exclaimed before calling for an assistant to pack your dress. "That will be 2800 dollars, sir."

Satisfied, Bateman hummed to himself and pulled out his wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"

"Of course!"

All the while, you were pretty shocked by the price for just a piece of fabric. Frowning, you didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud: "2800 dollars, for this? Oh God..."

Everyone, including Patrick, turned to look at you; the stylist was seriously confused and he just mumbled: "Excuse me?"

"Huh, don't worry," Bateman chuckled and handed him his gold VISA credit card. "She just can't believe I finally bought her a dress of your brand. Am I right, dear?"

When Patrick glanced at you, you felt a cold breeze run through your body - he must have been really angry. "Mmm, yes! I have been dreaming about this for so long!"

Even though you were not an actress, your words sounded more than natural. Both men smiled at each other and proceeded with the payment procedure.

All the way back to his apartment you both remained almost silent. Patrick continued to listen to the rock track he had paused on before going into the store, looking at you from time to time when you didn't see him, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your new dress that was lying on your knees. Yet, you couldn't believe he'd just bought you a dress that cost more than your monthly rent. You hated to owe someone, but now you felt like you did, and it was killing you from the inside...because you didn't ask him to get you that dress, you didn't ask him for anything, and still he was trying to push you into the world of luxury where you would be a stranger forever.

Bullshit.

"(Y/N), what's on your mind?" His sudden question caught you off guard, and you almost bit your tongue. Why did he even ask, when it seemed he could read your mind?

Fidgeting in your seat, you turned away from the window and gazed into his brown eyes, now filled with an unrivaled enigma. "Just thinking about how to survive all the challenges you have set for me."

You heard him laugh softly, and before you could continue, he hugged your shoulders and snuggled into your small frame, the heat his body was radiating melted the cold shell you had been building up since the moment he decided to 'help' you in the dressing room.

“Challenges?” Patrick rejoined, nuzzling against your neck as he pulled your collar down a bit. 

“Yes, Patrick,” you were trying to hold yourself as much as you could, not giving him more weaknesses to play around. “You know how much I hate all these fancy things which are made only for rich people.”

Bateman only purred something incoherently against your skin, tickling it a bit. “Cupcake…I think you need to relax.”

“Relax?”

“Yes, baby,” he tugged you closer, his nose was nearly rubbing against yours. Goddamn! “Relax and take it easy.”

"Stop, stop, stop..." you pushed him away a bit, forcing his headphones to slide down his head completely. "You've reminded me almost every day...that I'm not from 'your world', that I'm just a mortal who can't afford to buy fucking clothes that cost a fortune...and now you're telling me to just relax?"

Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “(Y/N)...don’t even start this conversation again.”

“You’re such an…”

Despite the fact that the partition in the cab was closed, it seemed as if the taxi driver heard your loud voice, and the next moment he opened it to ask you if everything was all right.

When you said that everything was fine, he started to drive again and you clenched your palms into fists, feeling the embarrassment and anger fighting in your mind.

"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" You wondered without looking at him. 

The way Bateman exhaled was not a good sign. "When you make such scenes - yes, I am." 

Sighing, you pressed a hand to your forehead. Damn, he was affecting you so badly and you hated yourself for it, for being so weak next to him, so vulnerable... you were literally losing yourself.

His apartment looked perfect as always, so clean, so posh, but there was something strange this time as you walked across the living room and saw a large bouquet of white roses on his kitchen island.

"Mmm, such beautiful flowers!" You approached them to inhale their scent.

"Yeah," he stated from behind, placing your dress on the back of his white couch. "I bought them for you."

Stunned, you broke away from them as if you were pricked. “For me?”

"I'm not going to repeat it," Patrick blurted out, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of super expensive whiskey. "Besides, I don't think it makes any sense now."

Excellent. 

Without asking, Bateman set a glass on the bar counter in front of you as you took a seat near it. Still frowning with irritation, he poured some red wine for you, and when you were about to thank him, he just strolled away. The situation was rather unconventional, to say the least, and you didn't really know what to do, maybe just leave?

"Patrick, I think we both need to cool off a bit...right?" you sipped at your wine, waiting for his answer, but he continued to ignore you. "I'm going to finish my drink and probably go home."

"Whatever." Was all he said, standing with his back to your face, clearly thinking about something. 

Upset, you stifled a sad gasp and took the glass before getting up. When you reached his white couch to have a look at your dress for distraction, you suddenly heard his challenging voice:

"You want to know who Evilyn is, don't you?"

Paralyzed, you almost choke on your wine. After coughing a little, you turned to see him standing near the coffee table with his hands in his pockets. This was getting serious.

"I don't understand, why do you ask?"

Patrick chuckled loudly and shook his head in disbelief. "Stop acting like a fool, Cupcake. I know you want this, I can even feel it," his face grimaced a bit dangerously while his eyes were getting darker by the second. "You've wanted it since we left the boutique, that's why you started acting like a bitch."

Trembling with burning rage, you squeezed the glass, nearly breaking it. "I'm not in the mood for a showdown, you know," you countered, not even noticing that you made a few confident steps toward him. "When I leave, you can bring Evelyn, Courtney, Meredith, whoever... and confront them for as long as you want!"

"Or maybe we can all have some fun together, huh?" he extended the last words, enjoying the sight of your angry expression. "There's plenty of me to go around."

Scowling, you wanted to spit in his face, or slap him, or both. But instead, you just smiled and that was a little unexpected for him. "You're sick, Patrick. And I feel really sorry for you."

After saying that, you turned away from him to pick up the dress – you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, so you even forgot about the glass in your hand.

"Of the two of us, you are the one who is really in need of some grief," his voice hurt you like a slow-acting poison, it was torturous. Before Bateman returned to the kitchen, he added: "Evelyn is my fiancée, and has been all this time. What an unpleasant surprise?"

A loud sound of broken glass echoed through the living room as soon as you heard his last words. It was a real miracle that the wine didn't splash onto the luxurious fabric of his white couch, but you didn't really care at that moment, with your heart beating so crazy in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and stood still, not hearing Patrick's footsteps behind you.  

Damn, that glass must have cost a fortune.

"(Y/N)..."

"I know!" You cut him off, raising your trembling hands in the air. "I'll return the money...just tell me how much it costs?"

No way you were going to start crying, no way. But you did, and when you felt his warm hand wrap around your forearm, you tried to push him away, yelping:

"Give me something so I can clean the floor!"

"(Y/N), calm down! You're bleeding." 

"What?" you gasped, opening your eyes wide before looking down at your feet to see blood running down your ankle as a sharp piece of glass sank into your soft skin. Only then did you realize you were injured, a sharp pain hitting your brain like a lightning strike. “Oh, God…I thought it was w-wine…” You stammered as that was the end point for your nervous system.

With no more waiting, Bateman carefully took you in his arms to lift you up. Sobbing, you let him carry you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of his beautiful black tub. Gently, he removed your shoes and stretched out your bruised leg to assess the damage.

"Is it that bad?" You asked him in a shaky voice, trying not to look down at the wound. 

"No, but it would be better if you stopped flinching." He insisted, releasing your leg and going to the sink to get antiseptic, tweezers, bandages and cotton pads. 

As Patrick knelt before you, holding a pair of tweezers, time seemed to freeze for you, but then you screamed from the itching pain as he carefully pulled the shard of glass from your ankle.

"Mmmh," you mumbled through your palm when he pressed a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. "Shit…I am so clumsy and reckless..."

"You are," Bateman murmured as he wrapped a bandage around your leg. Every move he made was very gentle and accurate. "But still, you are mine."

"No, I'm not," you struggled to free yourself from his grip, but his hands held your leg very tightly. "We both know that's not true..."

Shivering, you peered down at him as he remained on his knee beside you. Almost immediately, his hazel eyes locked with yours, mesmerizing as always. "Why is it always so difficult with you?"

“Ask yourself.”

The moment you attempted to get up, you almost fell on the floor, but Patrick caught you in his arms at the last second.

"Patrick, let me go..." you pushed him into his chest to get some distance, but he didn't even move. "I will leave and forget everything that happened between us. Just like you wanted!"

"I never said I wanted to!" he growled, holding you closer so you could almost feel his fast heartbeat. "Why can't you just be a good girl and accept what I give you?"

"Oh, you've already caused me enough pain...believe me!"

Annoyed, Bateman just shook his head before pressing a finger to your lips, silencing you and taking your breath away. 

No, no, no. Not again.

You swallowed hard as you felt his thumb slide up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears. 

Stop.

"Cupcake."

His voice, his scent, his warm body. 

"Look at me," Patrick whispered sweetly, and you felt yourself going limp in his strong arms, so you obeyed and let him kiss your temple. "You're driving me crazy and I hate it...because I'm so fucking obsessed with you!"

One sharp breath and his lips were on yours, forcing your hands to claw at his jacket, but Bateman only pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as his wet tongue played with yours. Panting against his mouth, you couldn't help but run your fingers through his soft hair, making it look so messy, but Patrick didn't care. Slowly, he lifted you up a bit to set you down on the sink opposite his bathtub, peppering your neck with little pecks.

"D-Daddy..."

Just one simple word could turn this man into a savage beast, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself as your inner nature yearned for him and it felt like you were meant for each other, two broken souls finally found each other.

"Baby..." He kissed your lips briefly before moving down to your cleavage and unbuttoning your shirt, his hot breath tickling your bare skin.

Everything about him was so intoxicating that your clouded mind refused to function at all and now you couldn't hear your inner voice begging you to stop. 

Quivering, you arched your back a little to give him better access, and immediately you heard him growl against your collarbone as he finally undid your shirt. Patrick didn't even bother to remove your bra - he just pulled it down, revealing your taut nipples; he licked his lips at the sight of them and then his greedy mouth was already devouring one of them.

"A-awwww," you mewled, hugging his shoulders as you literally melted under his touch. "Mmm, please!"

"Please what?" He looked at you, twisting your hard peak between his skilled fingers. 

"I..." you hiccupped from the way Bateman spread your legs as he nestled into you with pure possession, groping your hip and licking your neck. "I... don't know... Gosh!"

This was pure madness, what was consuming your mind, with every kiss he made, breaking all your barriers, the more you tried to resist it, the more it hit you back. Panting, you threw your head back and felt your eyes begin to water again as his strong hands caressed your trembling little body. Never in your life had you felt so lost. Never.

"Relax, sweetheart," Patrick mused into your ear as he slid his palm between your legs. And of course you were so shamelessly wet that you could flood his floor. "I got you."

"I can't, a-aah..." You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Yes, you can," Bateman planted another sloppy kiss on your neck before grabbing your hand to press it against the hard bulge in his pants. "I couldn't stop thinking..." he paused, drinking in your stifled moans as he gave your clit a few slight rubs. "Do you think about me, Cupcake? I know you do..."

"Mm-mhh," your hands roamed desperately down his broad back, fumbling with the smooth fabric of his suit. "And I...ahh-I know you don't think about me..."

A loud whimper fell from your lips as he shoved two fingers into your dripping pussy, almost causing you to bump your head against the mirror behind, but he prevented it by wrapping his hand around your neck.

"You're mistaken," his low groan echoed against the walls of his bathroom, sending shivers down your spine and coaxing your inner muscles to spasm around his fingers as they mercilessly rammed in and out of your throbbing cunt. "Because you know nothing about me," Patrick curled his fingers to stimulate your most sensitive spot, gritting his teeth as his aching cock was about to explode with ravenous desire. "Now be a sweet girl like you always are and..."

"Owwww!" you screamed in sharp pain as he accidentally pushed on your wound. “It hurts!”

"Fuck, I forgot..." He cursed and removed his hand from your leg.

Seizing the moment of his confusion, you slipped out of his embrace and nearly ran for the door, and thank God it was open, because when you heard his almost furious groan, your heart skipped a beat:

"Come back!" 

"No, it can't be like this," you leaned against the door, holding out a hand defensively. "Not after what you said..."

Trembling, you watched him breathe heavily through his red nostrils, his wild gaze seeming to burn you alive as his self-control was about to snap. Scared, you weren't sure what to expect from him next, so you decided to leave this place right now, while it was still not too late.

Quickly, you walked into his living room and grabbed the damn dress, trying not to think about the broken glass and spilled wine. To be fair, you thought Patrick was going to chase you or threaten you with punishment, but none of that happened as he stayed in his bathroom. It was suspicious, but you would think about it later. 

As you were about to leave, you walked past the open door to the bathroom and told yourself to just go and not look back. But when you reached the front door, you froze and sobbed - your heart sinking while your mind was waving a red flag.

Just leave, please!

Huffing, you turned and walked back to the open door. The scene you saw was not what you expected, it simply broke your heart - Bateman was standing still by the sink, leaning on his hands with his head bowed.

"Patrick..."

"You're still here?" He asked without looking at you.

"I'll go with you tomorrow...but I'm not doing it for you," your voice wavered, but you didn't allow yourself to sound weak. "I just wanted to make that clear."

And then you left him alone in his super luxurious apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. No matter how hard you tried to hold back your tears, they kept slipping down your cheeks. Even when you were in the cab on your way home, your soul was still aching because it seemed like the wounds he made couldn't be healed.

When the night came, there were only a few windows with lights on, and Patrick's bedroom window was one of them.

Irritated, Bateman lay on his bed while a blonde girl sucked him off, bobbing her head up and down at a fast tempo. There was no denying that she was trying her best to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he felt nothing, literally no emotions – only the dark void inside his mind.

"(Y/N), you're doing everything wrong...not the way I like it!" Patrick grumbled, pulling on the girl's hair.

"Who?" She asked confusedly, looking up at him. "My name is Meredith, in case you forgot!"

Bateman just laughed and carelessly pushed her down, forcing her to continue. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck my dick. Stupid whore..."

Meredith was making too many noises which annoyed him so much as he was trying to concentrate on dreaming of you - your beautiful face, your innocent sparkling eyes... Although this girl was very pretty, definitely 'his type', there was not a single trace of you and he thought he would never reach his high.

"Mmmhm, Patrick…Maybe you will fuck me already?" 

"Maybe," he sighed, watching her laying on her back with undisguised excitement, but then he frowned in a weird disgust. "No, get on your knees. I can't see your fucking face."

"W-what? What's wrong with you today?Ah!"

Angrily, he slapped her hip and rolled her onto her stomach. Without any preparation, he bottomed out, closing his eyes and thinking about the way you twitched every time he thrust inside you. Speeding up his pounding, Patrick finally felt his orgasm building up inside his body when she suddenly moaned:

"Oh, yeah! Daddy, it feels so good!" 

That was not even rage, it was something beyond that. 

Brutally, he squeezed her neck, almost choking her, and growled near her ear as he leaned down. "Never call me that! Understand?" he yanked her against the bed, still clutching her throat, and only when she was on the verge of asphyxia he released her, fucking her harder and gritting his teeth. "Fucking bitch, you should thank me for not killing you."

𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕒'𝕤 𝔹𝕠𝕪

Bo Sinclair x Fem! Reader Smut !18+! !MDNI! Syn. Bo has the tendency to compare his wife to his mom, and she's getting real sick of it. Tags. unprotected sex, p in v, housewife-reader, toxic/dysfunctional marriage, implied verbal abuse, mommy-kink, hurt/comfort, slightest breeding-kink, mommy-issues (Bo's, not child's), Bo & reader's son's name is Billy, (no use of y/n) Word Count. 2.9k

Droplets of scalding oil fly off the heavily greased pan and hit your skin like prickles, shit hurts. Not as much as your eardrums do, though, same as your other arm you aren't using to hold the handle of the pan that's carrying the twenty-five-pound toddler in your other arm that's screaming bloody murder. 

"'Wanna play outside! MORE PLAYTIME!" another shriek of baby babbles wrecks the barrier protecting the shell of your ear. You groan, attempting to bounce Billy while also attempting to not burn the dinner on the pan, yeah that'd hurt more. Bo's been working 'round Ambrose all day, as usual, you don't need two temper tantrums to deal with over a burnt supper.

"God damn.." You suck in a breath when Billy knees into your side and you almost drop the food cooking. He's a growing boy for sure, pudgy small legs of his grown enough to land some fatal kicks. Bo would've laughed, except it's not funny, not when you're the one dealing with the kid all day. "You can't go outside, it's late baby." You try and reason with the kid, but you know, he's a kid.

"No! Wanna play! WANNA PLAY OUTSIDE!" He retorts, it's a nonexistent counter-point, not like he could make one anyway, his vocabulary is as small as he is. 

Another bubble of sizzling oil scars your wrist shaking the pan and you damn near snap at it. All things considered, to say you were overwhelmed is an understatement. The grip you have on Billy snugs and you let go of the panhandle, leaving the frying food on the stove, instead drifting your full attention to Billy's. 

"Enough." You elongate your words, mommy voice pitching deep and you wrap both hands around him, staring him down. "Daddy's gonna be home soon and that means supper then bed for you, no more playtime, 'specially when it's dark out." You scold. Billy whines and tosses around in your arms, dramatic showmanship but doesn't screech back at you anymore, at least. 

At this point, your patience is out the window, and while thank god your ears ain't bleeding, you need the toddler to just calm down so you can get back to finishing up dinner. About to burst, the door swings open first, cutting off the next little lecture you were going to dump on Billy, familiar taps on the old wooded floor, Bo's home. 

His boot turns and he grins at you and Billy, stepping to the kitchen quickly. "How're my babies?" Bo said before he could really process the exact situation he stepped into. 

Turning to face Bo rather than the miniature of him in your arms, your brows furrow at him, and Billy just keeps, whining. Squirming around in your arms while you glare at Bo, not that you're mad at him, okay maybe you are but not justifiably, at the moment you're just mad. Bo doesn't acknowledge it, instead looking around then to the stove. 

Shit, dinner. 

"You burnt supper," He gestures to the now char-blacked mix of ingredients inside the pan, nose and eyes crinkling in disgust at it. Funny, he's seen plenty of burnt shit, like corpses, but god forbid his dinner be burnt. 

You choose to ignore the statement. "Can you take him?" You ask instead, reaching your arms outward for Bo to take Billy out of them. He wails between your arms, tiny nails digging into your skin while you try to hand him to Bo, let him help out. 

"Can't handle him yourself?" Bo replies and doesn't take Billy out your arms, raising a judgemental brow at you. 

"Just take him so I can fix the food." You respond, nudging your chin up in the direction of Billy for Bo to take him, but he doesn't.

"Bo." His name parts from you in a restrained growl. 

Billy is out of your arms into Bo's now, but there isn't any sweetness in the expression Bo gives you when he does. Mercy isn't present in his gesture, taking the kid and giving you another judgy look in lieu of a willing expression as he does. 

Circling between the kitchen to living room Bo rocks Billy over his shoulder, letting him wail it out till he gets exhausted by his fit. Eventually, the whines soften to snores. A momentary silence as Bo rocks him in his arms, you opting out of remaking the earlier failed meal with Billy now sound asleep. For a second your eyes meet Bo's while you wash the burnt remains off of the pan, as he walks off with the sleeping toddler to put him to bed.

"Need help with that too?" He balances himself against the hardwood kitchen counter clicking his tongue from behind you, there's the tiniest amount of condescension in his voice. See that, that shit hurts a lot more than hot oil. Can't control that mouth of his, has a mind of its own, he told you once too many times by now when, if, he'd bother to check up on you after airing out his bullshit onto you. 

"No." You've learned not to engage with whatever got him pissed by now, not with Bo. Vincent doesn't, hell even Lester doesn't, why would you? Would be stupid to. Not like he hits you or anything anyway, just mouths off sick filth with absolutely no filter. Got the worst of tempers but he does enough gutting and beating in his own time when getting Vincent his wax muses.

A mock laugh erupts from Bo and he tilts himself forward to your side of the kitchen, leaning over the sink to look you in the eye. Once again, you ignore the bubbling rage emanating from him, boiling up. But you can handle heat. Spend half your day on the frypan taking care of the boys, even if it means the boys just burn you twice as much. 

Bo sucks in his teeth, and you can feel the room getting warmer, not the arousing kind, Bo's signature can be being a horny fucking mess, but also an angry one. "I don't get it." He scoffs, shaking his head at the unsaid words he isn't even gonna try and hold back on. "It's one kid, for fucks sake."

Now this, you know where this one's going. Reuccering theme of your husbands, the never-ending need to nitpick at your parenting. He bitches about damn well everything, but there are those times you feel the tips of your nerves itch all wrong, like a sixth sense at this point when he's about to spit those abhorrent words. 

"My Mama managed fine with three so," Ah, there it is, your least favourite words to ever grace God's green earth. Broken record at this point with how often Bo brings it up. 'My Mama never-' 'My Mama did-' Words that seemed to toss any left sanity you had in you into the fire you thought you had grown used to, but no you didn't. Because it burns more hellish each time it's said. 

"I'm sure she did." Your teeth grit while you speak feigning little control as you try and remain docile, not to fan the flame any further. 

"Shouldn't be burnin' dinner, you know your way 'round a fire." He adds, voice raising with each sentence. Damn straight you know your way around a fire, dealing with Bo's frenzies all the time, you've gone numb to the temperature he inflicts with his tongue.

"Billy was having a tantrum." You gently defend.

"You call that a tantrum?" Bo snorts, taunting the notion. "Small lil hissy-fit at best, darlin'. My Mama ain't never burnt no meals over my tantrums." 

"Well, I'm not your Mama." You snarl cutting him off, pupils jolting away from the dish you were scrubbing to Bo's. Sick and tired is one way to describe the crazy you were experiencing right now at Bo's statements. A band snapping in the kitchen between you and him 

The edge of his shoulders stiffens into a line, and for the first time since you've known him, you think you've burnt him instead. A woefully pathetic air casts in his over his eyes, turning pitiable. "No, you're not." He replies as if he's testing the words, tasting them in his mouth as he verbalizes them, and they taste bittersweet sort of wrong. An unfortunate truth. 

Not sure if you're more shocked at yourself, or Bo right now you simply pause at the sight. Bo is, in fact, not yelling back at you. Shutting you up in some pseudo-volume battle that'd sure to have woken up anyone asleep in the house. Instead, he just looks at you like a kicked dog, not too far from what he was, his life considered.

The air goes cold, bedsheets feeling extra plush around you, that sort of featherlight coolness engulfing you on the bed, odd. Rarely cold in Ambrose, even in the dead of night. Much less soft, you're more used to suffocating in heat, wax requires it to meld and shape, And Bo pours it out in all his hot-headed tantrums you get burdened with. 

Bed post creaking you look over your shoulder from your side and the familiar dip on the other side has Bo there finding his usual spot beside you. 

This isn't hellfire hot, this is limbo, off-putting quietude, yet not tranquil. A second passes and Bo just stares off at the rusted ceiling. Did you break Bo? Did you fuck it up this time, like seriously fuck it up with what you said? More disturbed by the blue tune of silence than hollering, you turn completely to him. 

"Uhm," You start, unsure of where you're going with your question. "You still mad at me?" If he was, you're sure you would've known it, Bo doesn't shy away from his anger or showcasing it. Still, you question. 

"I'm not mad at you, darlin'." Bo sighs, shutting his eyes to avoid yours, wrinkles of the eyelid creasing in some kind of negative emotion.

Gently rolling to Bo's side you land atop his chest pressing your cheek flat against it, hearing the thump of his heart, familiarized with it by now. His arm finds place around your side rubbing your back instinctively. "Just, you know, my Mama... My Mama was real different than ya. Different to how you're with Billy."

There's an internal tick being set off because you've heard him sing this song too many times, about his Mama. Not that you had anything against the lady, bless her for raising your man, and bless your man for respecting her, it's sweet. But it's the constant comparing that had you getting all worked up.

"Different to how you're with me..." He adds, swallowing back a lump, and perhaps if you haven't gone crazy officially, a tear as well. So, this is not where you were expecting the conversation to go. Bo's not mad, not picking at you for the expectation his mother set. 

"You're so, so patient. With Billy, with me." He praises, he's praising you. Not mad, not disappointed, grateful. "Don't hurt me, at all, only," He groans, the bridge of his brow pinching, eyes still shut as he speaks. A vulnerability in his tone. "You only do me good. Make me feel good."  He means it all, with complete genuineness. Almost as though he's shocked at you for it, 'cause Bo's never seen you hit Billy, the kid's only got scars from scruffy tree branches that scrapped his knees. Bo's are all too vivid, leather and duct tape that's no longer there but still stings in his wrists and ankles. Never knew a woman could get so gentle, not with how his mama was, yet you were.

You smooth a hand over his chest where you lay, up to his cheek, hovering over his waterline wiping off the tears before they've fallen with a soft motion. "Shh, Bo." You soothe.

"Christ darlin'. You're such a good Mommy..." Bo murmurs, releasing a shaky breath, opening his eyes to look at you. Disbelief apparent from the quake rumbling through the way he speaks right now. He mumbles something else intangible and pulls you flush closer to him. 

Sweat salts your skin, snapping hips up and down against each other room re-enveloped with familiar warmth while you swallow him whole. 

"O-Ohh.. S'good, such a good boy, Bo." You warble in mixed moans, absolutely drenching the sheets under the round of your ass Bo pounding languidly into your gushing cunt. Tips of your finger pushing indents into the muscle of his back. 

Fervor spilled through his mind as you tugged him down closer, pussy sucking him in the same. Pulling then pushing his cock by the full till the tip nearly slipped out then slamming in deeper. "Fuck yeah, feels good Mommy? I makin' you feel so good, huh?" He purred, dipping his head into the crook of your neck breath fanning right over your ears fuzzing out the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. "Oh fuuuck, Grippin' me like crazy, Mommy." 

Saliva doused into the crook of your neck, Bo sucking in the skin and lapping at it. Wanting to kiss you whole, fuck you full. Maybe fill you with another baby, because you've done so well with the first he's given you. Another time, though, right now all that swelled was his cock lodged deep into you and awe in his mind. 

You tossed your legs around his waist, shivers twisting the inside of your abdomen, Bo fucks good every time. His mouth is so much more lovable stuck on the sensitive inches of your flesh making out hickeys and love bruises rather pissy words. "Close! Mommy's s-so close!" You gasp, tugging him closer, close as can be so his body heat can burn you right, the way you deserved it. 

Feeling you pull him till bodies melded like molten wax, and your insides warming his cock, clenching in a steady increase, Bo hugged his arms around your waist. Pelvis slamming harder, quicker against yours, increased pace jackhammering your cunt. 

"Cum f'me. Come on, Cum for me, pretty Mama. Cum all over my cock Mommy," His voice mumbled in a strained groan, bordering a whimper, heavy breathed against the sticky spot he'd left into the corner of your neck and shoulder while he pushes you to climax.

Felt good to burn like this, to be loved by Bo. Your brain turned to mush and white stars of bliss flooded from your spasming cunt to your brain. "Fuck, Ohh yes! Cumming! Cumming!" Gripping his cock so tight he almost came right there and then, but graced himself while he plunged deep into you restlessly, riding out the onslaught of euphoria that burned your veins. 

You were fucked out, that much was certain, first orgasm hit hard, harder than any words he could beat you with. Already stressed out day, Bo fixing that for you, dutiful husband the such. Rolling his hips in slower motions as you calm down from your high, your thighs clamp around his hips feeling the sting of sex continue passed your orgasm.  

"Stay wimme Mommy, gimme one more, yeah?" Bo tilted his head, raising it so it hovered over your forehead, staying atop you with a lustful adoration in his eyes. He was lucky, that much was certain. Not much luck in his life, crazy dead daddy and mommy, favourite freak of a twin brother, got you though. He got himself the sweetest baby mama a man could ask for. That shit is the best luck if he'd ever felt it.

"One more, sweet Mommy, and I'll fuck ya full. Mhm?" He cooed, pressing his lips to yours and snapping his cock into you, regaining his previous pace as your pussy relaxed around him. Building his thrusts back into quickness while hugging you close, kissing you with love.

You warmed impossibly hot, like an unbridled flame. Clinging to him while he does to you, because you're his everything, because you're his wife, his mommy, his darling. "O-Oh, Oh god Mommy, gonna... Gonna-" Bo choked out, cock throbbing in you with each slap of his balls against your ass. body churning and tense fucking you quick as could be.

"Me too- Oh fuck!" You felt it coming harder than a tidal wave this time, Bo nearing his as well. Your eyes rolled behind your skull and Bo slammed his lips to yours again to shut his own pornish moans from spilling out, your pussy driving him to pure rapture.  

Ecstasy ran through you two's bodies and he delved his cock straight into you in a final thrust of needed high, balls tightening and spilling deep into you with strangled cries of pleasure filling your lips that parted his. Teeth clattering messily against each other while he rode out his high in your spasming pussy, you washing into the second state of bliss the night cumming hard around his cock.

Bo could be a horrid husband at times, but God be damned, was he a grateful one. So grateful, wanted to send you to heaven, and push you through it over and over. Hoping to keep the fire churning in you forever. 

But for now, his dick was spent. And his Mommy was already exhausted as be taking care of his kid all day, and also getting fucked stupid by him. He pulled out with a grunt and flopped to his side in the bed. "Supper would've been good, now." He mumbles in a snort, wrapping his loose-jointed arm around your waist and rubbing a hand over your bare curves.

"Don't even start.." You grumble softly, before letting out a soft giggle, the type that makes him go stupider than emptying his balls in you. A dumb grin overtook his face and he smiled at you, rolling slightly in the bed to face you. 

"Sorry, darlin'." Sorry's only happen after Bo fucked you, not after he yells, never after he scalds you with words. But you'll take it, if it meant getting dicked down by the best man in Ambrose. 

"It's okay." You reply in a soft sigh, nuzzling against him. His perfect Mommy.  

12:01 a.m. on november 1st