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richestobones · 8 months ago
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Era Uma Vez… Uma pessoa comum, de um lugar sem graça nenhuma! HÁ, sim, estou falando de você SIGRID BERNADOTTE. Você veio de ESTOCOLMO, SUÉCIA e costumava ser HIPISTA OLÍMPICA/PRINCESA por lá antes de ser enviado para o Mundo das Histórias. Se eu fosse você, teria vergonha de contar isso por aí, porque enquanto você estava INDO A UM BAILE BENEFICENTE, tem gente aqui que estava salvando princesas das garras malignas de uma bruxa má! Tem gente aqui que estava montando em dragões. Tá vendo só? Você pode até ser DETERMINADA, mas você não deixa de ser umx baita de umx METIDA… Se, infelizmente, você tiver que ficar por aqui para estragar tudo, e acabar assumindo mesmo o papel de FÊMUR na história COMO TREINAR SEU DRAGÃO… Bom, eu desejo boa sorte. Porque você VAI precisar!
i. background.
full name: sigrid margaretha desirée (da casa bernadotte da suécia).
commonly goes by: siggy.
lost one name: fêmur.
age: trinta e um.
birth date: tba.
gender + pronouns: mulher cis; ela/dela.
orientation: bisexual.
occupation: hipista olímpica, princesa da suécia, perdida.
ii. appearance.
faceclaim: frida gustavsson.
eye color: azul.
hair color: tão loira que mal tem sobrancelhas.
remarkable markings: tba.
dominant hand: direita.
height: 185cm.
iii. personality.
virtues: tba.
vices: tba.
weapon of choice: tba.
moral alignment: tba.
inspired by: tba.
common tropes: tba.
iv. relationships.
parents: tba.
siblings: ingrid (mais velha), birgitta (mais nova).
relationship status: divorciada.
pets: muitos cavalos, nomes tba.
other relations: rei gustaf viii da suécia (avô paterno).
previous relations: tba.
v. biography.
sigrid tem muita familiariedade com o mundo da realeza. afinal, seu avô é o atual rei da suécia, seu pai o principe herdeiro, e ela mesma é a quinta na linha real dos bernadotte. naturalmente, a sua ascendência lhe deu muitos privilégios: ela fala várias línguas, tem vários quartos cheios da couture mais famosa do momento, foi a várias festas e chá da tarde com o principe william e a kate middleton e tudo o mais. enquanto a sua irmã fazia uma linha de posuda e princesa perfeita, ela utilizou a sua posição como filha do meio para fazer o que ela quisesse: foi modelo durante uma parte da adolescência, viajou pelo mundo todo, se casou com uma pessoa que se arrependeu logo (e se divorciou depois de menos de dois anos), apareceu em capas de revista e conquistou admiradores e haters.
apesar de tudo isso, ela demorou para se encontrar. sempre era a siggy, que não era levada muito a sério e isso sempre a enfureceu. com 19 anos, ela conheceu o seu futuro ex marido, um jogador de criquete inglês. ela cavalgava desde a infância, mas só via a cavalaria como um hobby, uma outra maneira de ter um pet; a aproximação com o seu pretendente a fez se aproximar também dos muitos animais dos estábulos reais e, após alguns elogios do futuro marido e ao ser chamada pelo técnico deste, ela decidiu virar uma cavaleira ela mesma. o interesse por cavalos e pelo hipismo duraria mais do que a sua carreira de modelo e até mesmo o seu casamento; sempre que compete, escuta elogios sobre a sua forma e sua força de vontade (ela tenta não focar nos comentários que dizem que ela só conseguiu suas medalhas em tóquio por causa do nome do avô). na verdade, o esporte a distanciou um pouco do glamour da realeza, a fazendo firmar e focar na sua paixão.
no dia que ela recebeu o livro, tinha sido afastada dos treinamentos por uma semana, devido à internação do avô. ela o foi visitar, aliás, levando o tal livro; o monarca estava reclamando sobre o hospital quando ela abriu o livro e foi sugada para uma realidade que não era condizente nem com os estúdios de um filme de época. após o choque, a raiva subiu à sua cabeça: e se o avô passasse mal e morresse depois de vê-la sumir do nada? o que seria da sua carreira olímpica, com as olimpíadas quase aí? a ideia de cavalgar um dragão quase não é uma consolação o suficiente para que ela deixe de ficar inquieta e parar de exigir que o rei dessa terra faça algo sobre isso, afinal, ela é uma princesa de verdade e quer voltar a ser tal em uma terra na qual ela não tem nome de um osso.
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stayvvithmama · 8 months ago
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Atenção, atenção, quem vem lá? Ah, é GOTHEL, da história TANGLED! Todo mundo te conhece… Como não conhecer?! Se gostam, aí é outra coisa! Vamos meter um papo reto aqui: as coisas ficaram complicadas para você, né? Você estava vivendo tranquilamente (eu acho…) depois do seu felizes para sempre, você tinha até começado a OFERTAR HARMONIZAÇÕES FACIAIS NA SUA CLÍNICA ESTÉTICA… E aí, do nada, um monte de gente estranha caiu do céu para atrapalhar a sua vida! Olha, eu espero que nada de ruim aconteça, porque por mais que você seja ARTICULADA, você é VAIDOSA, e é o que Merlin diz por aí: precisamos manter a integridade da SUA história! Pelo menos, você pode aproveitar a sua estadia no Reino dos Perdidos fazendo o que você gosta: VIVER LINDA PARA SEMPRE E SE APROVEITAR DOS OUTROS.
i. background.
full name: gothel.
commonly goes by: mamãe.
age: muitos séculos; parece ser uma quarentona enxuta.
birth date: não se lembra e não comemora.
gender + pronouns: mulher cis; ela/dela.
orientation: sapatão.
occupation: esteticista, professional gaslighter.
O personagem é dono ou cuida de algum lugar no Reino dos Perdidos?
sim! ela tem um instituto de beleza, chamado “the sundrop flower”, onde ela oferta todo tipo de atendimento de beleza, desde massagens capilares à cirurgias plásticas; é conhecido que mesmo que a pessoa não precise mudar nada na aparência, gothel consegue convencê-lu a fazer um retocado em algum lugar e gastar aos tubos de dinheiro com isso.
Como está a posição dele em relação aos perdidos? Odiou ou amou?
acho que acima de tudo, ela está curiosa. ela tem costume de dizer que perder a chata da rapunzel mas ganhar uma imortalidade sem trabalho em malvatopia foi a melhor troca que poderia ter feito, mas gothel gosta de ter pessoas na palma de sua mão, então há uma oportunidade interessante nesses recém-chegados.
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sceletaflores · 5 months ago
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where there’s sparks, there’s fire!
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pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader
summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.
—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.
word count: 4.6k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.
author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.
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Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.
Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.
You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.
It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.
Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.
Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 
You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.
You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.
He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 
“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.
You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.
Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 
You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 
You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.
Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 
Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”
You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 
You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.
Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 
Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”
You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 
His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.
Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.
"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."
You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.
Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 
You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.
You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 
Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.
His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."
Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."
His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.
It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 
You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.
“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.
Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.
You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 
Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 
He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”
You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 
Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 
You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.
Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”
You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 
Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.
He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 
You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.
He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 
It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.
The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.
“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.
Yeah fucking right.
“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”
Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”
You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 
You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.
“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.
Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.
You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.
You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.
“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.
Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.
His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.
You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.
“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.
He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.
“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.
“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”
“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.
“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”
Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.
He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 
The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 
You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 
“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.
Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.
He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.
You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 
The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 
Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 
“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.
He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 
Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.
You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.
Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.
arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???
tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3
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tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!
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arttsuka · 5 months ago
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Eating your art style, sorry
Anyways, imagine if Jed can read Chinese (learned from the railroad workers, both historically and movie canon! Well meaning they speak Chinese in the movie) And translates something into English for Larry while everyone just collectively goes "sorry, huh?"
Larry would be so done with that situation
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Imagine your boyfriend knowing Chinese but not being able to learn Latin
Edit: there's, there's a fanfic of this now. Go read it.
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mrsperv · 2 months ago
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Dad Leon being brought on a livestream by the request of his daughter's followers on Onlyfans, and of course, he doesn't exactly approve of this source of income, but if he's able to earn that bag while fucking his pretty daughter then what more could he really ask for? (im so sick this man is gonna make me throw up i love him sm-}
SCREAMED SCREAMED SCREAMED CUZ LIKE THATS A PLOT I HAVE FOR A FIC… FAWKKKK LIKE OKAY.
leon is obsessed with this one pornstar, she’s a faceless pornstar, like he’s so. idk he’s infatuated with her and practically jerks it to her everyday, they lowkey have this little relationship going on where he’s like messaging her sexual messages, sending dick pics, etc. & she replies back! duh.. it’s her job and she likes the idea of talking to this older mystery man.. leon’s guilty pleasure headass but with incest..
but one day, his daughter come back to his place for vacation and he gets her like this cutie little bracelet & when leon sees her newest post he sees. the bracelet. and realizes that the room she was in was eerily similar. so he freaks the fuck out. i mean? real? i would freak too
and blah blah, he confronts her but is maybe oddly specific on some details and she’s like. 😀. you’re that one follower i have. and he’s like. 😀. oh fuck.. yeah. so.. it gets like really really awkward but uhmmmmmm they fuck in the end so 🔥 and she films it for the fans 🔥 and people fw it 🔥 so the end 🔥
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kuromi-hoemie · 5 months ago
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being like 5’2” - 5’4” is so attractive to me like omg ur head fits right under my chin and right in my tits ♡⁠ let me hold you. i love being a tall girl
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sskk-manifesto · 4 months ago
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Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#About: Dead Apple. Watched this a while ago with a friend and it was a lot of fun!!!#If you're reading this: thank you so much for hanging out with me I had such a good time (ㅅ´ ˘ )♡#Next to general considerations: wow they were right that Bungou Stray Dogs movie sure can Bungou Stray Dogs#It's always nice to see the detailed animation and elaborate backgrounds of movies. The animation quality compared to the manga is–#definitely noticeable and it's nice to see. That said... I still like the season 2 art style more? And I'm speaking strictly of art style.#The s2 one looks more soft and smooth while the da one is so much more rough.#The plot is... Very bsd-esque I don't think there's anything to add.#In my opinion Kyouka's arc is the one that turned out best tbh. I really like her narrative development and personal growth in this movie.#I like the complexity of her state of mind. how full of contradiction she is. I especially appreciate the recurring small changes of–#expression that indicate how she thinks differently from Atsushi even if she doesn't voice them. The fight between her cynicism and her–#kind nature. It's all very interesting.#Atsushi's development is interesting too. Although all the open questions about his ability we still have kind of leave me frustrated#I don't feel very strongly about Akutagawa in this movie? I mean‚ he's there. The ss/kk scenes are always great and in character and a joy–#to witness no matter what they do. He just doesn't shine particularly? Or at least personally I dont find the “proving my strength against–#myself” narrative arc to be particularly interesting. Imo it was a lot better flashed out in the da stage play! With the complexity that–#the dialogues with Chuuya added to the character. Dazai attacking him. And especially Aktgw understanding that Rashomon wasn't testing Aktg#but rather only expressing that unstoppable rage that is also Aktgw's own. About that I checked out the play and I really liked it!!#I only watched highlights (aka: ss/kk and chuu/aku scenes) but there's some stuff I really like. I like the conflict between Aktgw and–#Chuuya and how Chuuya messes up with Aktgw at first maliciously and then amiably. It's interesting how Atsushi himself observes that Kyouka#and Akutagawa get along. And especially the sskk almost-handholding and Atsushi saying Akutagawa has a nice profile were cute akjdhbsawhjb#Next. Da really is shipping paradise (╥﹏╥) Sorry but... It is. oda/zai. daz/atsu. ss/kk. s/kk. fuku/mori. chuu/aku. It really has everythin#and the moments are so good!!!! What else. Wish we'd see more of Tsujimura. And Christie. And women in general tbh.#Also‚‚‚‚‚ Atsushi's tiger form in this movie is ATROCIOUS. I've said it before but it's crazy how a franchises that relies so heavily on–#fanservice came up with something this hideous. Man the movie overall was pretty but Atsushi sure wasn't. Firmly stand by the belief–#that only Akutagawa would find that form attractive.#Oh last note. honestly if we're ready to accept a movie where an antidote has effect AFTER the person has effectively died then we really–#can't complain about any kind of insanity the manga brings up#random rambles
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writtenhaze · 3 months ago
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give me a plot (loosely) based on casual by chappell roan where muse a and muse b who have been in a bit of a situationship for a while navigate “what they are”. muse a is completely head over heels for muse b, taking what they can that muse b has to offer, thinking of what their future could be like together etc. meanwhile muse b is reluctant to accept the relationship as anything more than casual, even though muse b feels the same way about muse a, any steps they take towards being anything more than casual is sabotaged by muse b’s commitment issues.
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dearmahiru-archive · 1 year ago
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"i can't believe kotoko was willing to hurt amane!" buddy, you will not believe who she foils
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ovaryacted · 2 months ago
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Me when I write angst and I’m doing an argument scene and I type out something crazy hurtful that takes me off guard as if I didn’t fucking write it. Like damn, I love arguments!!
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narrator-kun · 1 year ago
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i think one of my favorite things about the svsss fandom is the plots we make up and blame on qinghua the amount of numbered wives i have read with ridiculously specific plotlines (that sqq remembers by heart!??!?!?!?) that are followed up with "wow, great job sqh" its the funniest thing ever
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usyrps · 3 months ago
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what if we built a narrative ? what if we affiliated ? 💍
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rosurie · 1 month ago
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dolville's sanest couple
noah belongs to @dolskele [thank you nini for always indulging my delusions ♡]
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lale-txt · 2 days ago
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channeling my inner Suna by telling the same story about me but with slight variations in every family Whatsapp group chat so next time they talk about me they'll argue
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meidui · 1 year ago
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all of tony's friends are convinced he's getting scammed when he tells them he's talking to this camboy who's trying to put himself through art school, but then they meet him and he's a little angel
tony pays a shit ton for private sessions, which steve is very picky about because he's had bad experiences before but sometimes they just end up talking
steve breaks his i-don't-show-my-face rule and his i-don't-meet-patrons-in-person rule for tony and tony starts buying out all his nights and sometimes they don't even do anything, tony just asks steve to hold him and he sleeps better that way
tony has sent steve so much money at this point that steve is set for rent and tuition and bills and groceries for the foreseeable future and he hasn't touched the rest of the money, and when they have a big misunderstanding steve sends all that money back which makes things worse
(they properly get together and now tony's the only person who get's to see steve's nudes)
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prismaiden · 23 days ago
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ooc . Give this a like for me to plunder your meme tag and send some prompts!
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