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ghostgirl-22 · 2 days ago

Note

I fear I need more art calling patrick daddy

my lovely Mel you requested this at the beginning of the year so sorry for the delay 😅 I combined it with a similar anon request <33 original fic is here. My apologies for this being so long! I was so tired and also on my period when writing this so I’m really sorry if it comes across tired and horny 😭

CW: 18+ NSFW daddy kink, mild voyeurism/exhibitionism

——

It’s barely been ten minutes since Patrick had a very drunk Art all over him, hands down Art’s boxers, jerking him off while Art whispered daddy in his ear over and over. So ridiculous in his voice. With his cadence. It’s fucking insane. Patrick feels insane because now Arts sitting on his bed width wise. He’s showered and cleaned up in fresh clothes, resting his back against the wall. Fidgety, he’s swinging his socked feet back and forth and biting his thumb like nothing ever happened. Like Patrick didn't just tell him he wanted to fuck him. Like he didn't just basically say yes.

Art’s roommate Ethan (who doesn’t know much about Patrick except that his silent dislike is mutual) wants to tell Art all about his night out. Talking and bragging about this gay bar he went to in San Francisco. Patrick is annoyed and hard but whatever. he’s not a total asshole so he lets them talk while he scrolls through his iPod. He’s already tried to go use the bathroom but it was pointless, he’s too hard to piss without making a mess everywhere.

“One day I’m gonna make you come out with me. I’ll even pretend to be your boyfriend…you know…just so you don’t get hit on.” Ethan says to Art he’s in the same position on his own bed, Patrick rolls his eyes.

“Why? Are they gonna wanna kiss me or something?” Art says playfully. He’s so giggly, eyes like little half moons, chest full of hiccups. Incurably flirtatious when he’s had too much to drink. Exactly how he and Patrick ended up doing what they just did. And so many other things before that.

“Are you kidding, blondie? Fuck. They’d be all over you.” Ethan says, hungry eyes looking over Arts body.

Patrick thinks Arts drunk little roomie should shut the fuck up and go to bed so Patrick can finally cross the line. He’s resting on Art’s pillow, knees drawn up, he scrolls past the song Blame It on the Alcohol by Jaime Foxx. Just the perfect song for Art right now. He taps Art’s thigh with his barefoot and shows him the iPod.

Art squints at him and then crawls closer to see the iPod screen. he should be wearing glasses but he never puts them on, crawls on his hands and knees, between Patrick’s thighs so he can see the title properly and then he grins. “Send it to me.”

“When I get on my computer,” Patrick says.

“Please just don’t fucking forget,” Art gazes at him— wet lips, eyes fully dilated. He smiles. So flirty. Fucking slut. Patrick needs to be inside him.

“So how was your night, Art?” Ethan goes on, like he’s determined to be oblivious. Art does a dramatic flop onto the bed next to Patrick, head on the same pillow.

“It was so… tired,” Art groans into the pillow.

”Yeah me too,” Ethan says. “If you want… I don’t mind sharing with you if your friend wants this bed to himself. You know, like what we did when my sister was here.”

“No he jerked off in my bed and made a mess, he should have to sleep in it.” Art mumbles without looking up.

Ethan presses his lips together, eyes narrowing in Patrick’s direction, subtly irritated. Patrick smirks at him. Ethan rolls his eyes and finally starts getting ready for bed. He leaves the TV on. they both leave it on every night. Patrick thinks he hears the Ethan snoring after a bit but he’s worried that Art’s actually fallen asleep too. He’s lying on his tummy, hugging the pillow. Patrick puts the iPod down and rolls over. “You still gonna let daddy fuck you?” He whispers.

“Mm,” Art hums and rolls over. “You’re such a freak.”

“You started it.” Patrick smiles, rubbing his bottom. Art sits up. Leans in too close. He’s still so drunk. Patrick tangles his fingers into golden curls “if you’re daddy… what am I? Baby?” Art asks.

“Mmhm,” Patrick nods. Convinced every time Art says it, an angel gets a halo or whatever the phrase is.

“So fucked up,” Art whispers and Patrick kisses him. Art slips his tongue in right away, wet and warm, exploring Patrick’s mouth. Before long he’s moaning a little bit. Stuff he does when he’s drunk. He’s got Patricks leg between his thighs, pressed along his erection. He starts grinding. Patrick pulls back, dizzy already.

“Mm no you’re not coming like that,” Patrick whispers.

“Cause you wanna fuck me?” Art hiccups, trying to sneak another kiss, Patrick stops him.

“No. I’m going to fuck you.”

“Mmkay daddy. But you have to be really quiet,” He whispers, grinning.

Patrick comes apart, but only a little bit, he touches himself idly before balling his fingers to make himself stop. He brackets Art’s waist instead. “Has your roommate ever fucked you?”

Art gets the giggles. “No.”

“You kiss him?”

“Uh once but we were—“

”You were drunk,” Patrick finishes for him.

“Yeah, like now,” Art says, this time he manages to steal a kiss before Patrick presses him back down on the bed and he’s grinning.

“You’re so naughty,” Patrick whispers.

“What? Are you gonna spank me?” Art grins, “like make me call you daddy when you do it?”

God. His stupidly soft, sing-song voice and that fucking word. Makes Patrick’s skin tingle at every spot where their bodies are touching. “I don’t know. Should we try it?” Patrick whispers softly. “You let me spank you till you’re red all over, till you’re squirming and crying, and your hole is twitching for me. Till your dick is so hard and your balls are so full. And you’re begging me to just please, please fuck you? And I promise you I will if you just ask daddy so nicely?”

Art’s gone silent, he’s settled on his back, knees pulled up and falling open, the slightest glimpse of his tongue flitting across his lips, as he gazes up at Patrick. So goddamn magic.

“You have lube?” Patrick asks.

“I um— I think my roommate does.”

“Go get it.”

Art obeys. crawls off the single and sneaks over to his roommates side. There’s still the sound of his roommates' soft snoring. Not that Patrick actually gives a fuck if they wake him, outside of how Art will react.

He stumbles over and pulls a small bottle of lube out of his roomie's nightstand and brings it back to the bed. Patrick stops him mid straddle as he’s moving to climb over him. “Sit, I want you to put it on.”

Art’s a little breathless. He settles on Patrick’s thighs and Patrick watches him. He slowly tugs at the waist band of Patrick’s boxers and his long neglected dick rises at attention.

”Oh,” Art’s breathing goes shallow, his eyes widen like he’s seeing it in a new light now that he’s thinking of it going inside him.

“You see what you do to me?” Patrick asks gently.

“Fuck… Patrick… I don’t think I can…”

“Yes you can, of course you can. You’re so talented.” Patrick says.

”But…” he takes a breath. One that tells Patrick he’s actually kinda nervous. “It’s too much… daddy.” he teases, dancing his fingers over the length. Patrick scoots closer. God. This could ruin him. “ I’ve never had anything inside me before.”

“I know, baby. God, you make my fucking teeth ache.” Patrick breathes, coming to the distant realisation that he’s shivering.

Art is squirming on Patrick’s lap, touching it like he doesn’t want to get caught touching but he can’t stop himself. “Daddy I wanna…” and then he does something that breaks Patrick a little bit more, he takes hold of the base more firmly and presses it to his lips.

“Oh, oh shit,” Patrick hisses as Art fills his mouth. Just puts as much in as he can. Inexperienced, teeth scraping and everything, making it fucking hot and painful at the same time.

Patrick can’t help himself, jerking his hips up. ”Art nngh… shit… oh fuck…you gotta stop or ‘m gonna fucking come in your mouth baby… fuck,” Patrick groans as his blonde head bobs up and down.

Art pulls back and looks up at him, eyes all sparkly and oh… Patrick realizes he’s gone. He’s so far gone. “Mm sorry.” He hiccups. “I think I’m just dizzy.” He’s still touching Patrick idly, can’t stop touching.

Patrick takes a deep breath and steadies Arts hand. Such a smart kid, all higher thoughts hijacked by just the sight of Patrick’s swollen dick, Patrick hasn’t even fucked him yet. He grins in spite of himself. “You like it?”

“Mmhm,” Art nods. Jesus. he’s practically drooling.

Patrick snatches the lube from Arts useless hands. He’s barely got any self control left. He starts coating his dick with it. Using too much, for Art’s sake. Art is fixated on his movements. Lips parted, eyes glassy. Head empty.

“Lay down,” Patrick says, softly. Art is so silly. He lays down facing Patrick, and Patrick makes him turn over to face his roommates bed, grabs his hips to pull him back. “Take these down,” Patrick says.

Art eases his shorts down over his ass and Patrick presses up against his entrance. Art’s breath hitches, he’s suddenly tense. The heat of him is already making Patrick’s mouth water. He’s so tight. stupid little virgin. Patrick’s impatient, but decides to prep him just a little. Slips his finger in, and listens to Art whine before he tries again with the head of his dick.

Art is holding his breath and Patrick rubs his side, “breathe, i know it’s a lot. I know. I know. You’re doing so good, baby. Taking such a big one right out of the gate. Such a good boy.” Patrick whispers, he’s short circuiting just a bit. Going crazy just a little bit.

Art takes deep breaths. “Really?”

“Yes, so good for me baby. Oh so fucking tight. I can feel you stretching for me. Fuck. I feel you opening up for every inch of me. Your body just taking me in.”

“Mm,” Art squirms, clenching, clenching so tightly and fuck Patrick thinks for the first time tonight he’s probably not gonna fucking last.

“Mm, it feels so…” Art whines, breathlessly. “It’s so big, it’s so… full. I feel really full. I feel so…weird.”

“It’s okay… it’s okay. Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Breathe. Fuck. Just breathe through it. You feel that… how much your body needs it. Squeezing me. So fucking tight.”

Art’s whining, panting like their full on fucking and Patrick’s not much better, he kisses Art’s shoulder, he’s nearly all in when Art wants a break. He’s settled with Patrick inside him, cockwarming him while Patrick runs his finger tips idly over Arts pelvis.

“Patrick. Can I—”

“Mm that’s not how we’re talking right now, is it?” Patrick says, his voice tight. Art’s squirming all over him.

“Daddy,” Art whispers.

It takes everything not to pound into him when he says it. Pitched high and desperate. “MmHm.” Patrick breathes.

“Daddy please can I—- I wanna suck— I want something in my mouth,” Art whines.

Fuck. It’s on brand. This is the same kid that was still sucking his thumb when Patrick met him after all.

“Is that what you need?”

“Yes please, need it so much,”

He teases his fingers inside Arts wet mouth, doesn’t do it gentle. Shoves so much inside Art is immediately drooling on him. Wiggling on Patrick’s dick, the little bit of stretch and movement has him moaning. Patrick squeezes his eyes shut, tries to let him get used to it but too much more of this and he’s gonna black out. Probably wake up with Art beneath him, load after load of come dripping out of him.

“I think… I think… can you fuck me now? ”

“Is that how you ask?”

“Please daddy,” Art whines. “Please fuck me.”

Patrick’s hips are rocking right away, not bothering to be soft or gentle with it. “daddy was going so fucking crazy letting you play around with my big long dick inside you. I might have to fill you with a couple loads before I can stop baby. Is that okay baby? Hm? Is it okay?”

Art moans. “Yes daddy” He gasps. And that’s it. That’s the end. That’s all it takes.

Patrick is losing control, Art’s first time and he’s losing control. Pumping furiously in and out and in and out of him. gripping his waist, so tight, too tight. It’s so much fucking better than anything he could ever imagine. This insanely tight, silky wet heat. Art moaning, swearing, begging for more. He’s so loud. It’s filthy actually, his pretty voice saying things like, “more daddy, more, please daddy, fuck me more… I’ll be so good…”

“Shh… my god,” Patrick whispers, “fuck sweetheart… I know it feels good but Jesus christ,” he’s covering Art’s mouth to try and muffle him.

His poor roommate isn’t snoring anymore, in the pale light of the television Patrick can practically make out the frantic way his sheets are moving. He’s definitely awake, watching, touching himself.

Patrick loses everything when Art starts meeting his thrusts. The bed squeaking. Heavy breathing. The television low, white noise in the background.

Patrick takes his hand off Art’s mouth to bring him to completion, gripping him, jerking him. Can’t muffle Art’s sounds any more. He can’t help a breathless laugh for how feral Art’s gone by the time he comes. He’s practically full volume, no thoughts in his head except for how much he needs to cum…hips stuttering, spurting all over his sheets. Patrick grips his waist and buries his load deep inside, groaning into his curls.

“Mm, fuck,” he moans.

“Yeah,” Art agrees breathless.

And suddenly Patrick needs to pee like a race horse. He’s pulling out and Art groans reluctantly as Patrick gets out of bed.

“Where are you going?” He whines.

“Right back in a minute,” Patrick says, rushing into the bathroom, he barely makes it.

Art can’t wait a minute. He’s pushing in the door. His boxers all twisted, hair all sexed up. Skin flushed. And immediately Patrick thinks he might need a second round.

“Miss me?” He smirks.

“No.” Art says, but he’s smiling.

“It’s okay, I have that effect on people.”

Art’s eyes follow the movement of Patrick tucking himself back into his boxers and he pads closer to meet him near the sink. “My roommate just said he really wants to fuck me next.” His voice is a little worn out. Of course he sounds hot.

“Surprise of the century.” Patrick mutters.. Art yawns, hugging himself, his t-shirt lifts slightly and Patrick can see little pink bruises on his hips in the shape of Patrick’s fingers. Yeah he needs another round. Patrick reaches for him. He steps closer and lets Patrick grab him with wet hands and kiss his cheek. “What’d you tell him? Not that it matters. Cause he doesn’t get to.”

Art smirks at him in the mirror, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “Seriously?”

”Yeah seriously.”

“What do you care? You have a girlfriend.”

”I know.”

”So maybe I can do whatever I want.” Art turns to face him, challenging him.

“Mm that was true… yesterday…but then you made a mistake and called me daddy, and that means every boy that wants you needs my permission first.”

“That’s marriage.”

“It’s everything.”

Art bounces from one foot to the other, his eyes getting shiny again and that’s when Patrick knows he’s won. “You’re a freak.” Art says, but he doesn’t disagree and Patrick smiles and follows him back into the bedroom.

#tw: daddy kink #challengers fic #challengers smut #artrick #art x patrick #art donaldson x patrick zweig #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut

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ervotica · 9 months ago

Text

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

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