Final Part And I Am THIRSTY For The Rest! - Blog Posts
Spit In My Face 3
— 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.
— CONTAINS: Angsty romance, toxic behavior, gaslighting, mentions of panic attacks, hurt/comfort, swearing, flirting, sensual kisses & touches, jealousy, Patrick being an asshole (again).
— WORDS: 3.8k
— SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face🖤
— A/N: I'm so sorry for the long break in writing the Cupcake series, I hope you like it!
— LINKS: [PART 2] [MASTERLIST] [SERIES MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓
Camera flashes never stopped clicking in front of your eyes, you almost thought it was impossible to hide from them. They were literally everywhere, as were the countless supermodels and rich yuppies who looked at them without shame, their hungry eyes ready to eat them alive.
"Hey, are you trying to get lost or what?"
With a soft gasp, you stopped and turned around to see Patrick's irritated face as you walked through the huge hall, every part of which gave you strong vibes of luxury lifestyle.
"I don't think you'd notice my absence anyway," you replied, walking straight until his arm wrapped around your waist, causing your lungs to spasm from the sudden lack of oxygen. "Patrick?"
"Listen to me," he pulled you closer and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a serious tone. "There are a lot of bad people here who came for more than just fashion."
"Even worse than you?"
He scowled, but continued: "Much worse, believe me."
"Don't pretend you care," you tried to walk away, brushing his hand aside, but he tightened his grip. "Get off me!"
"You're too naive and innocent. I don't want you getting into trouble while you're here with me." Tensed, Bateman stroked your back to calm you down a bit as he noticed the people around starting to stare at you.
"That's very sweet, but I don't need your 'protection'...I'm pretty sure you came here for the same reason as all the other yuppies."
"I didn't ask for your opinion, okay? Let's get to our seats," he said possessively, easily cradling you in his arms, covering your small frame like a cocoon. "We have the best seats, by the way. Right next to the runaway."
"Amazing," you murmured as he led you through the endless crowds. "Not a single model will escape your gaze."
"That's the point."
Frowning, you were about to slip out of his grip when suddenly someone ran into you, stomping painfully on your feet.
"Ouch!" Your loud whimper caused Patrick to turn in your direction, but then he froze as he looked over your shoulder at the blonde girl who was immediately apologizing.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." the familiar voice hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I can be so clumsy," she touched her forehead before locking her lost gaze with Bateman's. "Patrick?"
That was Courtney. There was no doubt it was her, especially when she smiled at him so brightly it could easily outshine the Sun.
"Hello, Courtney. It's so good to see you!" Patrick crooned gallantly, his arms finally releasing your shivering body.
But even if a few minutes ago you wanted him to take his hands off you, now you were feeling a bit upset that he actually did.
"How could I miss this?" She asked flirtatiously, completely ignoring your presence. "Where are your seats?"
"Yes, where are they?" You blurted out abruptly, making them both almost jump. "I just don't want to interrupt your sweet conversation and..."
You almost hissed from the sudden pain as you felt his firm hand on your ass, pinching your buttocks. His face didn't change, though, as he continued to grin haughtily, his eyes never ceasing to roam over Courtney's pretty body. With slight irritation, Bateman approached your neck and whispered in your ear how to get to your seats, then nibbled briefly on your earlobe as a sign of his displeasure, but you didn't pay any attention.
"Thank you, Daddy." You uttered the last word in the most disgustingly sweet way you could and strolled away without looking back. No matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn't.
Patrick wasn't lying — the seats were really so close to the runway that you could probably see every little detail on the models' clothes.
After about fifteen minutes, it was getting dark, which meant that the show was about to start. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but it just didn't work, your butt was still sore from Bateman's pinch.
As soon as you remembered him, you heard his voice as he moved across the seats to reach his place. Patrick grinned at you smugly as he sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other and fixing his hair.
"You must be very pleased with yourself, Cupcake?" He asked mockingly.
You scowled and pretended not to understand what he was saying as the music turned up really loud: "I can't hear you."
Patrick just chuckled softly, put a hand on the back of your seat and moved closer. "I said you look so beautiful today."
God, what a jerk.
"Can't say the same about you."
"Uh, such an angry little kitten," Bateman laughed, looking at you from under his beautiful lashes. "I don't think I'll survive this."
"You really think I care?"
And then the show started, unfortunately not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. As expected, the models looked gorgeous and the clothes they were wearing were absolutely amazing — you had to admit that. Although you tried your best not to notice the way Patrick was staring at the girls on the runway, you had to claw at your skin when one of them winked at him without any shame.
"This is the grace I've been telling you about," he bowed closer to you to make sure you heard what he was saying. "The perfect example of feminine beauty."
You smiled ironically and replied without looking at him: "The real beauty begins when the boys come out."
Your sudden statement elicited a muffled groan from his chest, but Bateman simply nodded and turned away from you. From that moment on, he was almost silent, and it was a little strange, but as the male models appeared on the runway, you stopped analyzing and just enjoyed the handsome men walking back and forth in front of you. Everything was fine until one of the models found your eyes in the crowd and smiled at you. And of course Patrick wouldn't miss it.
"Do you like him?"
"W-who?" You stammered, feeling his warm hand on your knee.
"The model who just walked by," he murmured, stroking your exposed skin under the hem of your dress, sensing the way you tensed under his touch. "Maybe you should go talk to him after the show."
Shit, you couldn't believe he meant it or... you just didn't want to believe it?
"I'm not like you, Patrick," you chastised, feeling so damned angry as his words cut painfully through your heart. "You sometimes forget that not everyone is like that..."
"Like what?" Bateman scoffed with a raised eyebrow.
"You know what I mean." You added with a teasing smile and turned away from him, but he immediately grabbed your face, forcing you to squeal from the unexpectedness.
"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "C'mon, Cupcake, tell me."
The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.
"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his wrist in an attempt to pry it away.
"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer, so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."
You froze for a second as his words caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.
Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurts like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.
Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as precise as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact, and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and letting him kiss deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your swollen lips.
His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you just opened your mouth wider and let your noses brush together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhythm.
God, this man was the darkest curse... the most delightful blessing.
After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together.
A second, two seconds.
It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.
"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.
Shit, what if she saw what you were doing?
At first you thought Patrick would pretend he didn't know you or something, but instead Bateman smiled smugly and put his hand on the back of your chair.
Annoyed, but still as majestic as a lion, he looked up at the blonde and said quickly: "Hi, Meredith."
Her face turned into a sad grimace, though she pretended that Bateman's indifference didn't upset her. Obviously, Meredith was outraged and needed someone to take her anger out on.
With a haughty grin, she scoffed and almost stepped on your foot. "I don't understand, how can a man like you go out with someone like... her?"
Damn, that was such an obvious insult that it didn't even trigger a single emotion, you just gave her a deadly stare when you finally met her little eyes and you could swear that you saw a trace of fear in them.
"I asked myself the same question," you muttered suddenly, getting up from your seat and looking at Patrick, whose perfect eyebrows now frowned, especially when he understood what you were you doing — he squeezed the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Have a nice evening."
With those words, you quickly walked away, and you were so damn glad that Bateman decided not to follow you, because with every step you took, your eyes got more and more watery.
"How did she even get here? Ugly people like that should stay at home to avoid traumatizing anyone." Meredith hissed as she watched your little figure moving away from them. "Who is she?"
Patrick chuckled, then did his classic move of parrying the question with his natural charm. "Oh, you're so mean," he muttered as he watched the blonde take your seat next to him. Playfully, Bateman pinched her nose and they both started to giggle, no matter how disgusted he felt himself right now, he wouldn't admit that your sudden leaving made him sad. "Such an angry little bitch."
You couldn't remember how you found your way to the ladies' room, but as soon as you stepped up to the sink and looked in the mirror, you scowled and clenched your fists from the sharp pain in your chest.
"I... I hate you so much!" You hissed in a trembling voice, not really knowing who you were addressing, yourself or Patrick, who was probably already taking the blonde bimbo to his place.
His womanizer nature was not a secret, so why did it hurt so fucking much?
Depressed by your weakness towards this man, you wanted to smash the mirror to stop seeing this sad face covered with tears, but you heard someone coming, so you just froze in place with your trembling hands in the air. A model walked past you and accidentally bumped your shoulder.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She squealed and opened the fauster to wash her hands.
Even though you understood that she didn't do it on purpose, it made you so mad that you almost ran out of the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind you.
The moment you realized that you couldn't remember how to get out of here made all your insides cramp like a spring, and you thought you were just going to fall to the floor from a sudden fear of being lost.
Fuck, not now, not now!
Quivering, you looked around, searching for... Patrick? But instead of him, you could only see an endless number of beautiful models strolling here and there. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, but when that didn't help, your legs seemed to give way, and you slipped against the wall until you rested on the floor. This panic attack was nothing compared to the ones you had before, your heart pounding painfully against your chest as if trying to burst through it. Things got worse when you felt the lack of oxygen as you literally suffocated with panic and your body burned from the inside out.
The group of models stood by and noticed your small, shivering form, rocking back and forth with your hands wrapped around your head.
"Hey! Are you okay?" One of them approached you and crouched down beside you, trying to help you up, but you refused.
"Don't touch her, Lizzy! Maybe she's on drugs. Let's go already!"
"No, wait... she clearly needs help," the models looked at each other, one of them trying to pat your shoulder to calm you down, while her friend tapped her foot annoyingly. "Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?"
"N-no," you finally mumbled, opening your eyes to see that not only two, but many of these girls were already gathered around you. "I— I'm fine, I'm sorry... I'm just..."
Lost.
Jesus, that was so embarrassing that the words just stuck in your throat like a lump, and now you felt like a little girl who got lost in the big mall when she decided to run away from her parents.
"What's going on here?" That voice made you almost faint. "Get away!"
A bit roughly, Bateman pulled the model away from you and leaned down to your shivering form.
"HEY! We were just trying to help!"
"Go away! All of you!" He turned and barked at all the girls watching the scene. "Get the hell out of here, there is nothing to look at!"
Your head was spinning, at first you couldn't even believe it was him, hiding you from everyone with his broad, tall figure, as if he was trying to… protect you?
"Cupcake? Cupcake, look at me," his worried cooing made you submit, making you want to believe that he was really concerned about you. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your slightly disheveled hair. "What happened?"
At first, you didn't say anything — you were paralyzed, mesmerized by his brown eyes, which were gliding desperately up and down your body, checking every little part of it.
"Who did this to you?"
You did.
But he would never know.
"You came," you replied briefly. "Why?"
Patrick frowned at your answer and let out a tired sigh. "I've been looking for you since you left, because this place is huge, and I didn't want you to get into trouble, but," he paused and brushed your tears away concisely. "But it looks like I'm too late. God, you're so reckless," he shook his head and stood up.
As soon as Patrick did that, something clicked in your head, and you didn't even notice that you were already on your feet as you snuggled up to him and buried yourself in his arms with a deadly grip.
"Please, don't go!" You begged in a trembling voice, hugging him tighter. "Don't leave me!"
Shocked, Bateman didn't know how to react, his arms dropped motionlessly, but then he carefully placed them on your back, drawing invisible lines along your spine.
"I have to get our coats. You came here in your coat, did you forget?"
Blinking several times as you looked into his eyes, you replied softly: "Yeah… I did."
Patrick couldn't help but smile adorably. "Wait for me here, (y/n). I'll lead you outside, you'll feel better there." He explained and distanced himself from you. "Don't go anywhere! Got it?"
You nodded, and only then did he walk away. Without even looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.
Bateman was right, once you left the building your condition improved, and you could finally breathe in the fresh air, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. A cool wind blew into your face, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the emotions you were experiencing right now — the fact that Patrick had come for you, that he was looking for you, left you with no choice but to stifle a loud scream that you wanted so bad to let out.
Bateman remained silent, standing a short distance behind you, puffing on his cigar and watching the smoke rise from it.
"Has this ever happened to you before?" His question came out of nowhere.
You shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Yeah... it happens sometimes, especially in crowded places."
Bateman didn't say anything, but you could feel the tension between the two of you. Without a rush, he moved closer to you, watching you hug yourself — the difference in your sizes made him gulp, but he didn't dare touch you. Not yet.
"Why didn't you tell me then?" He whispered above your ear before smoking his cigar.
"Because it doesn't matter."
"It does."
"No!" You blurted out and turned round to face him. "It… doesn't."
The way he looked at you was enough to make you hold your breath and take a small step back, but the next moment you were already trapped in his sturdy arms, the sharp smell of snuff filling the air around you as he blew off several rings of smoke.
"You're not going anywhere now." His voice lowered, and you closed your eyes from the astonishing sensation of being caught in his strong hands, feeling his hot breath on your face.
"Patrick," you gasped and hugged him back, surprising him for a second. "Thank you for... for everything."
A loud cacophony of laughter and rumbling got your attention and you looked over his shoulder to see Meredith and her friends coming towards you. She seemed to spot you even faster than you spotted her, and now her eyes were bloodshot red.
"Can you," you stammered, feeling ashamed. "Can you kiss me?"
What the hell was going on inside your head?
Anyway, you didn't have time to reflect on this, because Patrick wasn't the type of person who needs to be asked twice. The moment his soft lips met yours, the ground under your feet seemed to disappear, so he had to hold you with both hands, not caring that his expensive cigar fell down. Even if you would blame yourself for that, all you could think about now was his strong hands sliding along your small form, outlining your curves as you let him do it, while he used his wet tongue to make you go limp in his embrace.
Sneakily, Patrick admired your beautiful face with his half-open eyes, probably not even realizing how much you meant to him, how deep you were rooted in his soul. But did he even have a soul in the first place?
When you broke the kiss, you didn't see Meredith or her friends anymore. Bateman noticed you were looking for something, so he turned to look at the direction of your gaze.
"Cupcake?" He was confused when he didn't see anyone. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Uh, yeah! I just thought I saw a familiar face," you lied, trying to act natural. "I... I should probably go home."
Patrick gave you a suspicious glance, still holding you in his arms. "Actually, I don't want to leave you alone after what happened."
"What do you mean?" you asked, a little disappointed. "I said I'm fine."
"Shhh," he pressed a finger to your lips, and you felt the smooth, cold leather of his glove. "I know you like to be bratty, but now isn't a good time. You really scared me."
Sighing, you dropped your head and covered his hand with both of yours. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't want you to see me like that."
To be honest, you didn't want anyone to see you like this because you hated looking weak in front of people. Especially in front of people like him, because it would automatically give him another trump card to play around with.
"Let me take you home." Bateman mumbled briefly, fixing your hair and then rubbing your neck to relax you.
"Aren't you afraid you'll have a heart attack coming to my place? It's not like your apartment in Manhattan."
He chuckled and pinched your cheek, leaving you confused and offended.
"Of course it's not," Patrick grinned and poked you in the nose. "I don't have any expectations."
You frowned and tried to push him back, but he only pressed you closer, nuzzling your neck and leaving a small hickey on it for which you were not ready — your muffled whimper made him sneer even louder.
"That's a pretty exhaustive answer," he didn't even allow you to say anything in return as he kissed you again, but this time much more passionately. "I'll get us a cab."
This man was like a hurricane that tossed everything around and no matter how many walls you built — he would break them down, one after the other, because nature couldn't be stopped. It seemed that you were completely disarmed against your own nature, because it was calling for him, it was pushing you into his possession, and you were already so tired of fighting these feelings. [To be continued.]
P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!