#please stop saying mean shit about patrick

[rttlesnk]

I go to bed and then check tumblr today and apparently mcr and fob fan have beef??? which mcr fans are being fatphobic what happened?????????

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Whimpers (Art Donaldson)

Description: Y/N gets turned on by the noises Art makes while playing Tennis.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,432k

Author’s note: Currently working on a Hannibal request. Also does anybody know how I can start replying to comments under my posts? I’ve tried but it won’t let me and I’ve seen other people do it. Thank you!

Y/N watched intensely as Art and Patrick played. She wasn’t like Tashi when it came to Tennis. Tashi stared intensely for the game, Y/N stared intensely because of Art’s whimpers. They were hot and funny to her. Sure she knows that’s how tennis players are but Art’s sounded unique. Y/N has never said anything to him about his whimpers. They’ve been dating for a few years. At first it was all 4 of them together fooling around and they ended up getting together while Patrick and Tashi got together for a while but they didn’t work out. Y/N and Art were different; they were special. “Y/N?” She broke out of the trance she was in and looked over at her best friend. “Are you ready to go?” She asked. “Yeah sure.” She kissed Art goodbye as she and Tashi walked away. 

“Did you ever get turned on by Patrick’s whimpers during Tennis?” Y/N asked Tashi. Tashi gave her a weird look, “What?” Y/N sighed. “I know it sounds weird but when Art whimpers I-” “Oh my god you think it’s hot?” Tashi asked in surprise. Y/N felt her face go red from embarrassment. “Hey don’t be embarrassed, it's just funny.” Y/N looked at her and shook her head. “It’s ridiculous really.” Tashi laughed at her words and shook her head, “It’s not but have you told him?” “Hell no he’d probably break up with me.” Tashi laughed even harder, “He loves you. He isn’t breaking up with you.” “How do I even tell him?” Tashi shrugged, “Hey when you whimper during Tennis it’s hot and I want you to take me on the court.” They both laugh. “Girl, just tell him.” 

Y/N sat in her and Art’s shared bedroom with her ipad on her lap. She watched a few of Art’s matches and listened to his grunts and whimpers as he hit the ball. She got wetter by the second listening to him. She slid her hand in her PJ pants over her now wet panties and softly rubbed her clit letting out a soft moan. She closed her eyes as she listened to her man’s noises as he played. Her finger rubbed faster as her moans got more frequent. Her hips started moving up to meet the speed of her fingers.

She wished that Art was here and rubbing her instead. As his whimpers and grunts got more intense her orgasm got closer and closer. “Babe?” Y/N’s eyes snapped open and her fingers stopped. Art stood there by the bed with a red face. Y/N opened her mouth to say something but Art beat her to it, “Were you getting off to me playing Tennis?” He asked. Now Y/N’s face was red. “I mean kinda.” She confessed. He crawled onto the bed and laid next to her looking at her. “Kinda?” He asked, taking the hand that had been down her pants.

She watched as he put the two fingers in his mouth.She gasped as he licked her fingers clean of her juices that soaked her panties. “What does kinda mean?” He asked her. “I uh I like your whimpers and grunts as you play.” She confessed. He hummed and moved to kiss her neck. “So when I play your panties get wet?” He asked. She nodded as his lips moved down her neck. “That’s so hot.” He groans as he pulls her loose fitting shirt down to expose her hardened nipples. He leaned down and licked one of them.

She threw her head back as he wrapped his lips around her nipple. “Art please.” She moans as he wettens her nipple. He moved down to her belly. “Take the shirt off.” He told her. She does and throws it somewhere in the room. He goes back to kiss down her body until he reaches the spot she needs him most. He nuzzles his nose in her clothed pussy. “Art.” She moaned and gripped his hair. He pulled away and pulled her PJ bottoms down revealing her wet panties. “Holy shit.” He says with a smile.

Her pink panties had a huge dark wet spot on them. He ran his fingers up the spot making her whimper. He chuckled and pulled them down revealing her wet pussy. “Art as much as I want this I want to hear you. Let me please you.” She begged. “You will but let me hear you first. Your whimpers are much sexier than mine.” He tells her and dives into her pussy. She moans loudly as he doesn’t give her a second to breathe. Her hands gripped his hair as his tongue licked her clit. She moans his name as his lips wrap around her tiny clit and suck.

He takes his fingers and swirls around her dripping wet hole. “Art please.” She whimpers. He hums against her causing vibrations. One of his fingers penetrates her hole causing her to whine as she feels his finger inside of her. He adds another and starts pumping as he eats her out. She feels dizzy as she lays her head back enjoying Art’s fingers and mouth. It wasn’t long before her high was near. “Art fuck I’m close.” She whined. He pulled away and winked. She glared at him as he took off his shirt. “So what was that about you wanting to make me whimper?” He asked.

She laughed and pulled him on top of her kissing his lips for the first time that night. His lips tasted like her pussy but she didn’t mind. She flipped them around so she was on top. His shorts still on him but his hard dick was as visible as it could get. She pulled down his shorts and his boxers gasping as his hard dick sprung up and was leaking pre cum. She smirked at him and got in between his legs laying on her stomach. Her hand wrapped around him causing him to gasp. “Fuck.” He groaned out as she jerked him off.

She wasn’t going fast, teasing him as she liked to hear him whine. “Faster baby.” He begged. Her eyes not leaving his face as it shows how deep in pleasure he is. Her hand speeds up but not by much. She was waiting for those whimpers and grunts that turned her into a puddle almost every time she heard them. “Art baby stop holding back those pretty noises.” She tells him. Her hand finally sped up a lot more and those pretty noises started falling from his lips. Art has never been the quiet type in bed but he still held back. But right now at this very moment he didn’t.

Y/N replaced her hand with her mouth. “Fuck.” He whimpered feeling her wet mouth around him, giving him the best head he’s ever had. He was big enough to hit the back of her throat. She held back the gagging just to hear him. He sounded so sweet and sexy. He’s never been this loud before and she was enjoying just as much as him. “Fuck Y/N I’m gonna cum.” He whined. She stopped and sat up smirking at him. He opened his eyes and glared at her as if he didn’t just edge her before. She crawled back up so she was straddling him and grabbed his hard dick again.

He watched as she lined him up with her pussy and slid onto him without ease. They had a pretty good sex life but tonight was the best it’s ever been. She placed her hands on his chest and slowly moved her hips. He whined and she wasn’t sure if it was from the feeling or the fact that she was teasing him. It was still hot though.

As she moved her hips she realized that she was also teasing herself. She had been close too. Her eyes closed as her hips picked up speed. His hands grabbed her hips and squeezed them hard causing her to moan. His eyes remained on her as they both let out the dirtiest noises.

Art couldn’t stop grunting and whimpering at the feeling. He was getting so close again and by the way Y/N was clenching around him she was close too. “Fuck Art I’m close.” She moaned out. “Me too.” He whined as her hips lost their rhythm. Her moans got louder and louder until she came hard with a scream of Art’s name. He whined loudly as he came right after her. She looked down at him, “Your whimpers are way hotter than mine.” She said and leaned down to kiss him. .

[badsweetangel]

Kinktober Day 19: Gangbang (Bowers Gang x Reader)

Pretend it's October 19th.

Warnings: Narrated by Patrick Hockstetter (I excluded weird shit he would say so it wouldn't ruin the meaning of the writing hahaha), mentions of blood and death, fem!reader! (sorry, I couldn't make it neutral)

He admired your pussy carefully. He would have liked to lick your intimacy and see you writhe around his tongue, but as always, Henry had started with you. It was an unspoken rule that no one had dared to cross, except him, of course. He still remembered that time when he took you first without asking anyone, and Henry himself separated him from you and hit him hard in the face, while from his mouth came the worst curses that not many had wished on his person. He smiled through his blows and licked his blood on his lips. He knew that his laughter unsettled Victor; that's why he had made sure to look him in the eyes when he was coughing up the blood on the floor. He wondered what your blood tasted like. But it was forbidden by Henry. All his oddities, as he had called his sexual desires, were strictly forbidden with you.

Henry simply penetrated you without preparing you, simply assuming that you already wanted it. He, Patrick Hockstetter smiled subtly. He had a feeling that Henry wasn't very good at licking pussy. Unlike himself, he was actually pretty good. He would have voiced that taunt out loud on another occasion, but now he just settled for holding back his laughter.

He didn't want to stop his fun. His pleasure at watching your expressions. In fact, he'd always found you very exaggerated. It was like you had stepped out of a porn magazine. You screamed, your nipples hardened, and you reached ecstasy easily. He wondered if you were faking it with Henry. It would be fun if you did.

Henry's hand caressed your leg and squeezed it tightly, making the muscles in his arm stand out. It would be attractive to any girl who passed by.

In fact, it wasn't unusual for that to happen. They had been caught several times, as they always did it in a somewhat public place. Henry let out short grunts. He knew he was holding back. Bowers wouldn't like to tell that he moaned in front of his gang without the others looking at him strangely.

Patrick looked away for a moment at Belch and Victor. They were talking amongst themselves. Just waiting for their turn. Selfless for Henry. He smiled. He was the only one watching the whole show. The physical reaction they gave him was priceless. He had never gotten so hard watching the boys trying to fuck you like you deserve. It was also a joy to see your expressions.

Your legs wrapped around Henry's waist, squeezing your thighs, as if you wanted to trap him and never let him leave your side. Your head fell back, towards the grass, and you let out your last moan. Your eyes seemed lost. As if you were in another world.

Henry smiled shamelessly. He had never had a girl who liked what he did to her so much.

Patrick smiled again. The doubt persisted... Was Henry that good, or did you know how to please him?

Next was Belch. He was boring—more boring than Henry. And that was too much. Not only did he just do missionary work, he let you ride him, and he did absolutely nothing. The only good thing about it was that he could watch your body move. It was mesmerizing, your tits and ass bouncing, your hair down, and your head thrown back. He saw your expressions again. He thought you did enjoy it, but again, it was too much of an exaggeration. You touched your tits lasciviously and told Belch how good and unforgettable it was. You whispered your deceitful words in his ear while he touched your ass to move you the way he liked.

He had a pleased expression on his face; he felt wanted by you. For the first time that day, you gave him a kiss. A kiss that meant romance. He knew it. He was no fool; he was very observant. The smile you gave Belch after the kiss you shared was incredibly sweet. Sweet to the extreme. Your hands rested on his stomach, and with one last movement, your body shook, and you moaned deeply, reaching your second orgasm of the day.

More cum in your pussy from another man. That's two. He sighed in frustration. The truth is, he liked it better when you were alone. He knew you too well to swallow this game of seduction of yours. And the worst thing was that he was swallowing it, he hated not being able to possess you properly.

You walked away from Belch, while he lay sighing on the grass.

Your naked body went to Victor, who seemed eager from now on. He, in reality, was a little more entertaining. Although he believed that Victor wanted to differentiate himself from everyone else, that's why he always tried to get you out of the routine. Deep down he wanted to please you, for you to see more in him than simple violence and sadism.

Victor led you to the lake, he looked at you so that you would get in first. He could see how your first genuine smile came out that day when you saw from your position in the water how he undressed. Seeing that had confirmed some theories. Deep down you knew how to move your pieces.

And you genuinely thought that damn Victor was better.

Patrick stared at Victor's body, showing no reaction. Maybe he could see why you liked him. A murderous need centered in his chest. His impulsiveness grew as he watched him get into the lake with you and kiss you with more than just genuine lust.

The rage of a proud and possessive man centered inside him. But he would wait, of course he would wait.

You kissed Victor's neck, giving him hickeys, it was a show of possessiveness and hunger. It was something you had never done, usually you played. There were no seduction games anymore, no winks or confusing, sweet actions. You really wanted him. Victor entered you. Your hands circled his neck. Your face leaned against his neck, trying to muffle your sounds. Victor's cheek was next to yours, his eyes were closed and his hands must have been on your hips.

It was pleasure, genuine pleasure.

You just let him manipulate you. You stroked his hair and asked for more in his ear.

And you whispered something in his ear. Something Criss liked. He knew what it was.

A demonstration of love.

He sighed. Not that he cared, but he was a possessive man. He didn't need your love, he needed your submission. Deep down, he longed for you to be his alone.

He watched as you both reached orgasm at the same time. And you came out of the water, with your bodies wet. Victor, had put on his clothes, ignoring his soaked body. However, you didn't. You walked towards him, with an unreadable look.

“Listen, I don't want you three here” He said, without taking his gaze off you.

“What the hell, idiot?” Henry snapped, approaching him, angry. “Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?

“Henry, it’s okay.” You stepped between the two men, stopping Henry with your hands on his shoulders. “I’ll tell you if he does anything wrong.”

Henry went to the car, to wait with the others. They were left alone in that place that was apparently empty.

“What the hell are you playing at?” He touched your shoulders and pushed you to the ground.

You looked at him from your new position with a provocative smile.

Your hair messy from the fall.

“What are you talking about, Hockstetter?” You lay down, opening your legs allowing him to see the leaked semen.

“It seems as if you provoked me on purpose.”

You simply muttered, letting out a mocking laugh.

He positioned himself on top of you, staring at you. He was suspicious of you. Suspicious of your behavior. In a fit of rage, he choked you, cutting off your air supply. You closed your eyes, wincing at the pain, but not protesting. Maybe I could end up killing you.

He smiled.

He penetrated you hard. He enjoyed seeing your faces of pleasure fighting against the pain.

“I own you” He sentenced, increasing the roughness of his thrusts. “No games, okay?”

He enjoyed seeing your goosebumps. Your natural moans and groans. Your chaos exposed.

He couldn’t let anyone see your true nature.

He took his hand off your neck. You breathed hard. He spit in your mouth. He slapped you multiple times.

“Another one” You begged.

He simply did what you asked.

Your hands touched his shoulders, enjoying the rhythm of his accelerated and raw penetrations.

“Say you’re mine” He demanded.

“I’m yours” You murmured.

“Harder, bitch” He ordered you again with a cruel tone.

“I’m yours, damn it” You screamed. “I am your bitch who serves for your pleasure”

They reached orgasm with your last words.

He didn't know what game you were playing. But he really liked the game you were playing with him.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I had a thought on a Ethan Landry smut. Do with it as you please.

Obsessed Ethan Landry x Obsessed Reader: The reader is aware of Ethan's obsession with her and that he and his family are Ghostface. The reader acts stupid, but she is just as fixated on Ethan (though not in a murderous way) but hides it really well that nobody knows. The reader finally decides to abduct Ethan during a party or other event, ties him up on her bed, and lets him know about her obsession and his secrets. The cameras he hide in her apartment (which the reader purposefully plays with herself in view to give him a show of course pretend she didn't know), murdered a guy that was hitting on the reader, and etc.

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

A/n- it’s been a while since I wrote for Ethan sooo (; hope it’s still good, Ethan’s giving a “I like to dissect girls, did you know I’m utterly insane?” Patrick Bateman vibe

Warnings- voyeurism, masturabation (f), Oral (f), not much smut but I can make a second part if anyone wants

“Hey, Ethan.” You said with a smile, leaning against the doorway.

“Oh, y/n! I didn’t expect you to-“ he jumped slightly, and then scrambled to his drawers to find some clothes, blushing. You’d really caught him in only his boxers.

“I was studying with Chad, and I just wanted to say hi. Sorry- I shoulda knocked.” You said, making your way to his bed and sitting on it.

He put his pants on and a white t-shirt, and sat at his desk chair.

Studying? Yeah right. His tongue was probably just down your throat, he thought. He was jealous over you two studying, if that wasn’t sad… He brushed off those thoughts.

“Yeah- hi, hi.” He laughed “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting..” he scratched the back of his neck.

“What you been up to?” You asked, glancing at his computer on the desk and back to him.

“Uh… nothing. Nothing.” He said. “It’s just econ homework.” He shrugged, and quickly shut his computer.

“Fun.” You snickered.

“Oh yeah, totally.” He said sarcastically.

It was awkwardly quiet for a little.

“You coming to the party tonight?”

“Uh… I mean.. I wasn’t really planning on it, but Chad wanted me to so he’ll probably drag me along.”

“Mm. Got it. So I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there.” He said with a smile, and you stood up.

“Alright. See you.”

“Yeah, see you.”

He let out a sigh of relief when you left, opening his computer back up.

He clicked on the clip he had saved for later and pushed play. He took his pants back off, then his boxers.

You jumped onto your bed, vibrator in hand. With a small smirk on your face you pulled down your panties, your pants already discarded on the floor.

You switched it on, taking a small glance to the hidden camera. You found it a few weeks ago, but decided to leave it alone.

And you also found out that it was placed by your best friend, Ethan when you both were studying, he went to the bathroom and you snooped on his computer.

You pressed it onto your cunt, making a loud moan, hips bucking off the bed.

“Mmm-“

“Fuck.” He mumbled, he can’t believe he hadn’t seen this clip earlier.

He stumbled on it when he was going through some new footage, and he skimmed through it, but he saved that specific time for later.

“Ethan- fuck-“ you moaned out, Ethan stopped moving his hand up and down his cock, his eyes were wide.

He clicked back on the computer, and he replayed it.

“Ethan-“ so he wasn’t imagining it. He watched the way the words formed on your mouth, the way you said his name so sweetly.

“Shit.” He continued to watch it, stroking his cock even faster now, his balls feeling like they were gonna explode any second now.

He groaned out your name as he spilled his seed onto his hand, hoping to god his dorm mate couldn’t hear.

He threw his head back onto the chair, continuing to listen to your moans.

“Fuck.”

Then he looked back at the clip, he saw you biting your lip so hard, making it bleed. Then he saw you look over.

He narrowed his eyes, and replayed the moment where you looked over.

You seemed to be looking directly at the camera, staring deeply into his eyes through it, as if you knew he would be watching this.

Then he went back to where you moaned his name, to which you did the same thing, looking directly at the camera.

It had to have been a coincidence, right?

——————————————————————

“He’s cute.. come on!” You whined to your friend, trying to convince her.

“Not my type. And are you sure that whole things gonna work out? It seems…”

“It will!”

“Alright, girl. Let me know how it goes, because I see him right there.” She turned you around, he looked around as Chad stood by his side.

“Wait what? Right now?” You whisper yelled as she pushed you.

“Yup. Right now.” She nodded to him with a smile, watching as you went up to them.

“Hey y/n.”

“Hey Chad. Hi Ethan.”

“Hi.”

Chad looked at Ethan, raising eyebrows.

“Well, I’m gonna uh.. go talk to Anthony. Anthony!” Chad yelled, walking away.

“Chad- Chad don’t- ugh.” Ethan tried, groaning.

You laughed quietly. “Guess it’s just you and me.”

“I guess so.”

It was awkward, probably because he was just jerking off to you.

You then grabbed his hand, leading him to a secluded room.

“Y/n, y/n?” He said, confused slightly as you practically dragged him.

You shut the door and faced him.

“Are you okay?” He asked when you grabbed his hands again, he didn’t fight against your grip, and you knew he wouldn’t.

You grabbed a zip tie that you had in your pocket, tying him to the bed frame.

“Y/n, what the hell?!”

You sat on his lap, he looked confused, and he tried to get out of the zip ties.

“I know that you’re ghostface.”

He stopped struggling, and he now looked at you.

“I’m not ghostface. Why does everyone think that?”

You reached to his waistband and pulled out the hidden knife, with a cover over it.

He sighed and looked at the knife you had in your hands. You put it next to you both.

Then you felt something poke you underneath, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Are you fucking- hard?”

“No!”

“Ethan!”

“You’re sitting like- directly on my dick!” He whined, throwing his head back.

“Whatever. I know you’re ghostface-“

“So what? You’re gonna turn me in?” He spat.

“No. I just wanted to let you know about something.”

“What?”

“I know about the camera. I know about the diary. I know about how you killed that one guy hitting on me.”

His eyes widened, mouth agape slightly.

“You knew this whole time?”

You nodded, and then you didn’t something he never would’ve thought would actually happen.

You bent down, and you captured his lips on yours.

“I knew all about your obsession. You didn’t know about mines. Ethan Landry, I’m fucking crazy in love with you.” You whispered against his lips.

It was his turn to kiss you now, he tried to grab your cheeks but he forgot about his tied hands.

“Can you untie me?” He asked when you both pulled away for air. You laughed quietly, nodding.

“Why’d you tie me in the first place?” He asked, rubbing his now free wrists.

“Because I didn’t want you to go crazy and try to kill me.”

“Oh, I’d never kill you, sweetheart.” He cooed, something about his words seemed so…

He grabbed the knife, and he pinned you onto the bed now.

He took the cover off the knife, running a finger over the blade carefully.

You whimpered when he held it above your throat, it ghosted your skin.

He chuckled at your reaction and smiled, he then took his other hand, running his fingers on your cheeks, and over your lips. He put the knife on the dresser, it served as a warning.

A warning that he could do whatever he wanted to you, a warning that he had the power here, not you.

You opened your mouth when he put his fingers there, his eyes dark and full of lust. You grabbed his wrist while you licked his fingers, swirling your tongue around the digits.

He then took his fingers out your mouth, and he dropped down to your clothed cunt. He quickly took off your shorts, he threw them and your panties somewhere onto the floor.

He lapped at your pussy, paying special attention to your clit. You let out a moan, your hands immediately flying to his hair.

This would definitely be a long night.

[zweiginator]

i fear i need more of they shy!art and shy!reader bc that was insane

i’m imagining that you’re at a coffee shop with art and patrick studying for an exam coming up. patrick isn’t doing anything; he doesn’t care about school and he doesn’t share a class like you and art do. but you all sit together and share your drinks. a girl comes up to flirt with art. she says she’s seen him around, that he’s really cute.

art, not really thinking and unable to make himself say no, scribbles it down on a receipt and hands it to her. he flusters when she compliments him, says she’s seen him play tennis and he’s really good.

you roll your eyes when she walks away. patrick stifles a laugh. covers it with a faux cough and takes a sip of his coffee.

he whispers in your ear.

“he’s so fucking stupid. we’ll have to punish him later, yeah?”

you nod, smirking behind your own drink.

“what? what are you guys talking about?”

but you shrug.

“text your new girlfriend. this conversation is between us.” you say. you’ve never been snarky to art. patrick fist bumps you.

art feels left out. because you and patrick giggle about your plan all day. he says art’s going to hate it so much. you’re not sure what he means until it’s later that night and you’re all in art’s dorm.

and patrick starts making a move on you. you’ve never done anything with patrick—but you’d be a fool not to be interested in him.

he tucks your hair away from your face and kisses your neck. art clears his throat.

“what the fuck?”

you realize this is patrick’s plan. to make art mad, jealous, snap.

patrick is more dominant when he kisses. he pulls you as close as you’re able to be, your chest smashed against his and his tongue pushes into your mouth like a siege. doesn’t allow you much movement. he overtakes you and his lips open over yours in languid movements. it makes you moan against him, your fingers curling in your hair. he kisses your throat. whispers against the soft skin.

“tell him what we’re doing.”

you whimper. “we’re punishing you. shouldntve given that girl your number.”

art moves closer to you. he’s desperate now.

“i—i didn’t wanna say no. i felt rude. i never even texted her. can you guys stop?”

patrick feels in between your legs.

“i dunno. she’s pretty fucking wet for me.”

art likes watching you kiss patrick. he likes how you move against each other. but he doesn’t like being pushed away. he’s jealous to see patrick’s hand cupping your pussy. art pulls patrick’s wrist off you.

“stop. i want her.”

patrick raises his eyebrows.

“someone’s jealous. artie, don’t be feisty we can share, yeah?”

“no.” art pushes his pants and boxers down. “we can’t.”

he pushes inside you quickly; you’re fucking soaked. he pulls your legs up over his shoulders. pushes your shirt up and plays with your tits. he’s drooling as he fucks you harder and harder. fast thrusts that seem punctuated. hard, to make you yelp and grab at his wrists, fumble with the hem of his shirt to pull him closer.

“kiss me, please-“

but art shakes his head.

“sluts don’t get kissed. open your fucking mouth.”

you do, but not voluntarily. art spits in it. some of his saliva lands on your cheek and his thumb gathers it. pushes it into your mouth.

you crane your neck back and look at patrick who gives you a shit-eating grin.

“told you it would work.”

[fawnnpaws]

reader walking in on one of art’s jerking off frenzies 😖😖

patrick refuses to help him so he’s jerking himself off while watching poor bby art hump anything he can

you walk over to patrick, standing behind him while the two of u watching art whine and beg as he humps his pillow

arts begging you guys “need mommy n daddy to help me, please. m’ so hard” he’d cry

oh :((( poor baby just gets so desperate, he’s fucking insatiable, especially when he’s left alone to his own devices. and patrick is so mean about it :((( he says “if you want to be a slut while we’re gone, you can get yourself off without us. go on, finish what you started, artie.”

art looks to you for help, but you’re just standing behind patrick with your arms wrapped around his waist and your head hooked over his shoulder so you can watch. patrick had already hooked his waistband under his balls and started jerking himself off by the time you walked in, so you just skate your hands down his stomach and nudge his hand out of the way. he groans as you wrap your hand around him and start pumping up and down.

“you know the rules, baby, you shouldn’t have tried playing with yourself without us.” you say, sickly sweet and condescending.

“please - m’sorry, m’so so-sorry - touch me touch me touch me,” art whines, but his hips don’t stop moving. his eyes are fixed on your hand jerking patrick’s dick right in front of him. he wants to touch, to taste, anything you’d give him. “mommy… daddy… please! help me”

“oh he begs so nicely, should we help him, daddy?” your hand speeds up, you can feel patrick is getting close.

“shit - don’t know if he’s earned it.” and that just spurs art on more, his hips rut faster, he’s whimpering and whining, begging and pleading. he can barely form words anymore.

you go up on your tippy toes and whisper in patrick’s ear, “look how pretty he is, why don’t you teach him a lesson, hm? paint his pretty face?” you twist your wrist at patrick’s base and drag your tight fist all the way to his tip in a way you know drives him crazy. his hips stutter against your hand and suddenly he’s moaning and covering art’s face in pearly white. art opens his mouth eagerly and tries to catch what he can, rutting his hips so fast and so keyed into patrick cumming that he doesn’t even realize he’s cumming himself.

“aww,” you say, extracting yourself from behind patrick and stand between them. you shove two fingers of your right hand into art’s open mouth, so far back he gags for a moment before you hook your fingers behind his teeth and pull him forward. at the same time, you force two fingers of your left hand into patrick’s mouth and hook them on his jaw to pull him down to his knees. you guide the two of them together and remove your fingers before they get caught in the crossfire of art and patrick practically mauling each other with heated kisses. you smile, “my good boys.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING! i was wondering if you would do the kisses prompt #44 with patrick zweig? <3

*I'm not currently taking any more prompts from this list

44. Tentative kisses given in the dark

This wound up being much longer and far hornier than I originally intended

Warnings: Horny Chaos Gremlin Patrick; there was only one bed; dirty talk; masturbation; grinding; cumming in pants; enemies to enemies who fuck; smooches

Rating: Explicit, 18+ - minors, please get off my lawn

You'd been in a tight spot before, sure, but you never thought it would be this bad. Your mind was racing as you tried to imagine what people said when you turned up together, watched you get out of his car.

You'd been chagrined when he'd reached out to you on Tinder with a proposition, but as much as you hated to admit it, it had seemed like a decent idea. He had made good sense—you needed transportation, and you both money. Meeting up with him had cemented it further.

"Our styles would complement each other," He'd leaned across the bar as he'd insisted it, wholly ignoring what you'd considered your personal space, "We'll split the costs of the motel room and gas, take down the mixed doubles competition and split the prize money."

"And then what."

"And then you won't need to see me again. You'll want to, though."

His shit-eating grin had almost been as bad as finding out that the only available motel only had a single room available. Patrick hadn't even feigned an offer to take the floor, and there was no way in hell you weren't getting a good night's sleep before the first day of matches.

The first night hadn't been so bad—the two of you had managed to keep to your own sides of the somewhat narrow bed, and gotten ready without incident the following morning (though that likely had something to do with the fact that you got up to get ready at 5, and Patrick rolled out of his bed somewhere around 7:30, grumbling, only moving at your insistence that you didn't want to be late for check-in).

The two of you hadn't fallen into sync on the courts right away, but by the end of the day, you'd found a consistent rhythm. Every grunt of his, every encouraging yell of, "Let's go," every high-five, hip-pat, grin shot at you from beneath the sweep of his long lashes made your more and more grudgingly attracted to him.

You'd tried over and over to talk to Patrick about your form and tactics over your rest stop dinner, but he'd ignored you in favor of stuffing his face and cranking up the car radio.

Now, you felt him shifting beside you. It wasn't the first time—he'd been tossing and turning for the last ten minutes. It was another moment before he settled down. You drew in a deep breath, relieved. Finally, you could sleep. All you needed was a little peace, quiet, and stillness—

The sound and sensation of Patrick moving again made you clench your hand into a fist.

"If you don't stop moving, I'm going to stop you to the bed," You warned.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Zweig."

"I can't sleep."

"You've made that abundantly clear."

Another shuffling shift, and you felt the hot push of Patrick's breath against your neck.

"Are you tired?" He asked.

"I'm begging you to shut the fuck up."

His quiet chuckle grated on you as much as it stoked the flare of attraction on your belly.

"We're not gonna talk?"

"I tried to talk to you in the car."

"I don't mean about the game."

"What else would we talk about?"

"Anything."

"Like our favorite ways to fall asleep?"

Patrick's teasing little hum made you realize that it was a stupid thing to say, but it was too late.

"I'm pretty fond of a good fuck."

"Of course you are."

"Or rubbing one out—Not as effective, but still a pretty good option."

"Uh-huh."

"...Okay." He shifted around again, and you felt the covers shoved away. You hesitated before you peered over your shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"Rubbing one out."

"Right here?"

"Easier this way. I can fall right asleep after."

"You're just going to—Right next to me."

"Sure." Then, "You could, too, you know."

"I don't need to."

"Sure you do."

"Excuse me?"

"You need to loosen up. You're so uptight—it's throwing off your game."

"Bullshit."

"It isn't," He chuckled again, but it was different. There was a breathy edge to it now, and an undeniable soft shushing of his fist working in his boxers. You swallowed thickly, eyeing the opposite wall as you tried to ignore the heat rising in your skin.

"You're a real ass, you know that?" You gritted out.

"Keep going."

"What?"

"Keep talking."

"Just hurry up."

"You don't wanna talk? S'okay, you can listen—Mm, fuck," He groaned. Your stomach flipped at the sound, your thighs squeezing tight as your clit throbbed. "You wanna know what I'm thinking about?"

"Yourself, I assume."

"Those pictures of you on Tinder...I looked at 'em last time, too."

Last time. Why was the idea of Patrick jerking it over his phone as he swiped through your pictures so hot? "Nothing like having you here, though...You smell better than I thought you would."

"You smell like a pig. You act like one, too."

"Mm, but you like that."

"What the fuck makes you think that."

"You think I don't see you squirming over there?"

You bit your lip at the accusation, fingers curling and uncurling in the sheets. Damnit. You had been sleepy, but now you felt wide awake and wired. There was no way you'd be able to just doze off now—not quickly, anyway.

"Spent half the games today staring at your ass," He went on, seemingly uncaring of the battle you were mentally waging. "And when you ran back for that lob, your tits looked so—Mm, god. I thought they were gonna pop out. I wanted them to, right there in front of everybody...Show 'em to me?"

"What?"

"Bet your cute little nipples are so hard. C'mon, just for a second?...I can suck 'em if you want."

You drew in a deep breath, trying to steady your pounding heart. You weren't going to give into the goads, you weren't going to—

You rolled onto your back, shoving your nightshirt up with one hand as you grasped his hair with the other. Patrick moaned, rolling over and curling into you. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, twirling it with his tongue as he began to shamelessly rut against your hip. You whimpered brokenly, arching up into his touch as you rolled your hips, grinding against the seam of your sleep shorts. Patrick lifted his head as he pushed himself to settle fully between your spread thighs.

"Can I touch you?"

It seemed like a silly question coming from the man that had just had his mouth on your breast, but you could feel the way he was holding himself over you—hips carefully still, despite the feeling of his cock twitching between the layers of fabric separating you.

"Yeah," You nodded, propping yourself up on your elbows, your chest brushing against his. "Yeah. Can I—"

"Yes." Patrick shoved his hand beneath the band of your shorts, groaning as he felt your slick, plumping pussy beneath his fingertips. He lowered himself closer, the heat of him almost crushing as he began to lay frantic kisses and sucks across your neck and breasts. You reached down, palming his ass and hauling him closer as his rough fingertips swiped your clit.

His lips skimmed your chin before they brushed against yours. The two of you went still, hands freezing in place as you seemed to reassess. You leaned up just a touch, pushing your lips against his more firmly. Patrick sighed, teasing his tongue between your lips as his fingers picked up their pace. You gave his ass a squeeze as he rutted against your thigh.

Patrick sloppily broke your kiss, panting against your lips as you chased his touch.

"Fuck, c'mon," He murmured, "I wanna feel it—I wanna taste you."

"Shit—" You shuddered as the familiar coiling in your belly snapped, sending your hips bounding against his fingers, pussy clenching as you came. You'd hardly felt the last wave of it before Patrick was pulling his hands up from your shorts, smearing his cum-slicked fingers against your nipple and taking the slicked skin into his mouth. You whimpered, stunned, as Patrick teased and toyed with the skin, his hips juddering against your thigh. You could feel the heated spill of the cum through his boxers, feel the hum of his groans against your skin.

You sagged back against the pillow as he slowed, rolling off of you. It was absurd to suddenly miss the heat of him, or to watch the retreat of his back as he went to the bathroom. You let your head loll back as you tried to center yourself, trying to ignore the slick, lingering pulse between your thighs as you pulled in deep, steady breaths to calm yourself down. You were so sleepy—you could figure out what the hell you just did in the morning.

You expected the dip of the mattress to be chased by the feeling of Patrick tossing and turning again, but he settled down, drawing in a deep breath.

"Night," He murmured, and you laughed, unable to help yourself.

"Night, Zweig."

[madlittlecriminal]

[04] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: Danny is an oc, mention of death in the family (not reader or miguel related), mention of pregnancy (not reader), annoying customers, two cliffhangers in one (im sorry), patrick o'hara (web-slinger)

series masterlist | miguel o'hara masterlist

Another day, another employee seeming to irritate him to the core. Miguel didn't understand what was so hard for this guy to understand that no meant no, but seeing him beg Miguel for a day off when his PTO ran out was comical to say the least.

"For the last time, Danny, you used up your PTO. I cannot give you the day off simply because you don't want to work. If you were at work more often instead of doing whatever you want to do, then maybe you'd have the day off." He says while leaning back in his chair.

"But you don't understand! I need the day off, Mr. O'Hara! Please!"

"Give me a valid reason why and I'll think about it." It was bullshit. The only way Danny was going to get out of this is if his fiancée was giving birth or if he had a death in the family. For any other reason, Danny was going back to work and Miguel didn't care if Danny was going to throw a fit.

He was honestly surprised that Danny and his fiancée were still together considering he hardly works and they live together.

"Well...you see..." Danny started, but he couldn't come up with a valid excuse other than not wanting to work.

Miguel waited for him, his leg folded to where his ankle rested on his knee and his hands folded on top of his abdomen. He tilted to the side as he listened to Danny stutter.

"Danny, I'm a patient man. However, your stutter isn't natural. You're nervous because you can't come up with a lie right now and that's fine. However, don't expect me to listen to you if you can't come up with a lie. Get back to work."

Danny grumbled before leaving Miguel's office, slamming the door behind him.

"Slamming doors como si paga por algo-" he paused and shuddered. "Oh God, I sound like my mother." (like of you pay for something-) Miguel shook his head and fixed his blazer before going to type on his computer before his phone rang. A small smile formed on his lips when he saw your name pop up on the screen, but he didn't answer it until the third ring.

"I thought you gave me a fake number there for a second." You let out a sigh, making Miguel let out a shy chuckle, fidgeting with his pen as he tried to tell himself to relax from how hard his heart was thumping in his chest with nerves.

"Nope. Right number." He says, leaning back into his chair again as he heard you put the phone down.

"Good! Okay, I had a weird question to ask you." You say, everything around you sounding much louder which he automatically connected it to you putting the phone on speaker.

"Ask away." He reaches over and grabs his glass of water with a trembling hand from his nerves.

"Why did you need to know about interior designers and such?"

Miguel smirks, thanking whoever that it was a phone call and not in person communication or a video call. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Of course it is."

He heard you huff out a breath and he couldn't help but bite his bottom lip to hold back a laugh.

There had to be flaws somewhere in you...right? I mean, he only saw perfection-

'No. Stop it, Miguel. Not yet. Don't fall just yet.'

"Well, I'll let you go. I have a cake to work on."

Before he could get a word in, you hung up.

Miguel put his phone down and let out a chuckle. He rests his elbow on the arm rest of his desk chair, his chin resting on his palm as he let his mind wander a bit.

Where did his mind wander to exactly?

To you.

He wondered if your hands were rough or surprisingly soft. He wondered where you learned to bake. Was it taught to you by a parent or guardian? Did you learn from recipe books? YouTube videos? I mean, he had to thank someone for your talent. Shit, he wouldn't be surprised if you were self taught.

He shook his head before a soft knock was heard from his office door. He looked up and immediately regretted it when he saw the look of shock and anxiousness on Lyla's face.

"They're here for the meeting, Mr. O'Hara."

He got up and buttoned his blazer before following Lyla out of his office and into the conference room. He knew Lyla well enough that when she said his last name, it wasn't Alchemax business.

-----

You raise a brow at the man in front of you who was asking for a gender reveal cake.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I want a gender reveal cake, but instead of the usual pink and blue and you do black?"

You blink at him.

"Black and...?"

"Just black."

"Do you want the frosting black?"

"No. I want the cake to be black."

"Sir, that's not how a gender reveal cake works. If you want, I can do black and whi-"

"No, I want black."

"What's the gender?"

"Boy."

"Okay. So you want everything to be black?"

He nods.

"What flavor?"

"Vanilla."

You stood there for a bit, screaming internally as you head to the back to take out a vanilla cake you just made. You quickly made black frosting with food coloring before decorating the cake. When you triple checked that it was perfect, you showed it to the customer.

"You made sure it was blue on the inside, right?"

You wanted to throw it at the customer.

"Sir, you told me you didn't want to do pink or blue, you wanted black."

"Yeah. The frosting."

You clenched your teeth before forcing a smile.

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, I need it within the next two hours or so."

"Come again?"

He gave you a nod before stepping out of the bakery.

"Customers piss me off sometimes." You murmur.

"Do they? I'm sorry to hear that."

Your eyes widen before they meet a familiar pair of brown eyes.

"Hey darlin'. Hope I'm not interrupting anythin' important." Patrick says softly, giving his charming country boy smile that made you relax.

~~~~

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfictions @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana @itsameclinicaldepresssion @hwasoup @migueloharasbbm @vkumi

[artdcnaldson]

Okay, okay- Dilf!Art thoughts I had since like a long time now (And this shit is long as hell and not well written🫣. I’m sorry!!):

Being yet again their plaything but also with a function. Like tennis protege, Junior PR manager, Tashi’s Assistent […]. Being a part of their relationship, motivating Art and working (+good friendship) with Tashi. A dream.

SO in New Rochelle you watch the opponents, analyzing their styles and finding weak spots which could be useful for Art. Also the half finale where Mr. Zweig plays. You’ve only seen him on a few tennis recordings with Art back then.

Super concentrated…you stop writing in your little notebook. Glancing at Patrick: His thighs. His serve. His passion. The biceps. Being in awe. And he notices. How couldn’t he? Sitting straight in the front row, eyes glued to his movements, wearing a crop top and matching tennis skirt on this very hot day, basically open mouth, never seen someone playing tennis like he does before.

He wants you. Now. Giving you his charming grin after scoring an ace. Looking at you before serving or while lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat away. And after winning the game he comes to you.

You blush and one hour later, both of you sit in a cafe. His body leaned forwards, you could smell his shower gel. The cologne. You’re a little shy, I mean you’re Tashi’s and Art’s, aren’t you? But has this triangle a future? However as aroused as both of you were after flirting, slightly touching, eating cake/ice in the most erotic way possible, you just gave him a hug, thanking him for the talk (you asked a lot about his tennis still being Art‘s girl)

And when you arrive at the hotel, Tashi and Art already on the dining table, the ofc ask you where you’ve been. The moment the name “Patrick Zweig” crosses your lips, art let his fork crash on the plate. He may have won some games but he’s under pressure. It’s fucking Zweig. He leaves the table with a tensed jaw. “It’s alright” he says with a cold undertone.

Tashi’s not angry. But kind of determined, disappointed. “There’s no excuse for this kind of behavior.” Telling you how to get Arts confidence up again. “And you better do it right”, she said, leaving the table.

AND THE NEXT DAY, now hear me out, it’s the sauna scene. Patrick and Art are the only players left. So Art’s in the sauna alone. That’s the moment you snuck in. Ofc just with a tiny towel. A cute pink one with tennis balls (cliche haha) which Art bought you some time ago.

He’s ofc surprised and didn’t want to see you at first. But you come closer, letting the towel fall off, leaning forward and searching for his gaze with your big doe eyes. Making him free, touching his thighs and telling him, he’s the only one. The best one. How he makes you feel. That he is fucking Art Donaldson. And you are his.

He can’t. He sinks his fingers in your hips pulling you in. *some hot sauna action. You probably riding him I guess. And afterwards he makes you cum again and slaps you in the ass again when you leave

Leaving just in time before Patrick arrives. And now HEAR ME OUT:

THIS (in this twisted universe) IS THE REASON ART FEELS SO MUCH BETTER THAN PATRICK IN THIS SAUNA SCENE AND IS ALSO ABLITZLW MEAN.

Yeah. So if you’ve read this till now. Wow. 🙈🥹

Can’t say enough, I love your blog cat 💘

LOVE THIS <3 Love sticky throuple dynamics >:) And thank you you’re so sweet!!

But you’re such a good little addition to their marriage— a vehicle for Art to work out his frustrations, his inferiority complex. You look at him like a god, you fuck him like he’s the best you’ve ever had. You’re so good for him, you help Tashi get information on Art’s opponents by researching or watching their matches in person— you’re their favorite toy.

It was a mistake, Tashi knew, to send you to watch Patrick’s match, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of watching him play herself, so there you were— sweet, eager to please in the front row, taking notes in a tiny notebook as he and his opponent took to the court. And of course Patrick reeled you in, it wouldn’t been remarkable if he hadn’t. He’s handsome, he’s charming, he invited you to have dinner with him, so you did.

You come back to the hotel smelling like fast food (because dinner had been sitting in the tailgate of his shitty car and sharing Shake Shack that you paid for) and axe body spray, and Art fucking knows. His girl was off with Patrick. Again. The worst fucking case of Deja Vu.

You make it up to him so sweetly, though. Bouncing on his cock in the sauna, not caring if any staff or athletes passing by hear. Proving that all you need is him— his cock, his affection, his love. All yours, the only person in the world you need. You cum so pretty on his cock, milking him, crying out and continuing to grind onto his cock, even as it softens inside of you. You give him a kiss and repeat yourself again. “I only want you, Art.”

When you tug your towel back on and slip into the hallway, Patrick’s grinning at you, and you know he heard everything. Good.

[ghostgirl-22]

You may find yourself

18+ !NSFW!

Day 4: Two prompts in one 😊

SFW: Interview

NSFW: Strap on

___________________________

A year ago, Patrick would have never imagined staying up to watch Art on the Late Late Show deflecting questions about their relationship; but ever since they hugged each other at the challenger and that photo went viral, their life has been under a microscope. Clearly Art winning the US Open for the first time wasn’t as important as: Did you see Patrick Zweig sitting next to Art’s sister at the Open?

Even people who don’t give a fuck about tennis are invested in them for some reason. Half the world is convinced that he and Art are having a secret affair and that Tashi is just his beard.

“Which is ridiculous actually,” Art smiles at the host, shrugging it off. “I wish my life was that interesting. But the truth is me and Tashi… we’re very boring. I mean we’re usually pretty private. Obviously, the press and stuff comes with the job but on a regular day we’re doing our jobs and raising our daughter. And Patrick is…he’s just an old friend. We lost touch and now we’re just making up for lost time.”

Patrick is lying in Tashi and Arts bed sharing a bowl of ice cream with Tashi. “He’s such a good liar, right?” Patrick says.

”It’s not that far from the truth,” she says, glancing back at him with a smirk.

“So what I’m hearing is he’s an old friend that you only kiss sometimes?” The host asks, the audience laughs and Art smiles going along with it.

“Only when he’s nice to me,” Art says. The audience cheers and whoops like he’s confirming something and Art shakes his head smiling.

“Now that’s gonna be the headline,” the host laughs.

“I know, exactly,” Art says, grinning. “Art Donaldson finally admits...”

“He’s cute,” Patrick says, sucking on his spoon and gazing at her. Something about watching Art pretend they’re a boring couple is turning him on. And it doesn’t hurt that she’s wearing his t-shirt and panties and nothing else. Her pretty hair is clipped up loosely. “We should’ve gone to LA.” He says.

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” Tashi says pointedly.

“You think this is live?”

“I mean there’s a thirty second delay, but yes it’s live.”

Patrick grabs her spoon. “what—?” she snaps at him as he takes the bowl too and puts it on the nightstand.

“Maybe we should fuck again?”

“Are you serious?” She says, incredulous. “You’re hard again? It’s been five fucking minutes.”

“Yeah,” Patrick says distractedly, pulling open her nightstand for a condom.

“No, Patrick, wait!” She calls, diving over his lap to try and stop him from opening it, but it’s too late.

Her shirts riding up as she reaches over him and he’d be more distracted by her white lacy panties if he hadn’t just found their little treasure trove of sex toys. An open box, clearly accessed recently or he wouldn’t have seen it. It’s full of vibrators, lube, beads, handcuffs, etcetera etcetera.

“All we do is work and take care of our daughter.” Patrick mimics Arts television voice. “Such a liar, you’re both so fucking horny,” He grins moving her away so he can lift the box out completely.

Tashi settles back on the bed but hits his arm, mildly annoyed.

“This is actually fucking incredible,” he teases as he examines the contents.

“We went through a phase,” Tashi mutters as he lifts out a magic wand thingy. He presses the button. It starts vibrating and he holds it out to her like a microphone.

“Could you speak up please?”

“I hate you,” Tashi says, pushing his arm away.

Patrick laughs and shuts it off before droppping it back in the box. “Holy shit, please tell me you fucked him,” he exclaims, lifting out what’s clearly a strap on.

She shrugs. “Look nothing was working, okay. He was depressed and I knew I had to try something…that…that….”

“Did he come?”

She bites her lip. “No… but…I mean… he got hard.”

Patrick smirks and grips the fake cock. “You should fuck me.”

“Patrick,” She rolls her eyes but she’s so easy to read. He knows he’s had her since the moment he took the ice cream away.

“Come on,” he says, pulling at her t-shirt. “Fuck my brains out.”

“You’re such a freak,” She whispers but she grabs the strap on from him.

“Says the freak with handcuffs in their nightstand,” he smirks.

“It came with the set. You really think I’d buy furry handcuffs?”

“No, you’re right, you’d just tie him up.”

She sits up on the bed and straddles Patrick. “Jesus, you really are hard,” she says softly. “Help me put it on.”

He lifts her t-shirt so her little lace panties are visible. She’s so god damn beautiful he wonders how she’s surprised his dick is hard. He’s always at least half hard in her presence, he’d be more impressed if he could keep it down. He helps her buckle the straps.

It’s so intimate he almost ends up just fucking her instead but somehow they recover enough for him to watch her play with it. She’s kneeling over him. Rubbing it like she’s jerking off. “What do you think?” She giggles, the shorter strands of her hair falling into her eyes.

“I don’t buy it,” he says.

“Why?” She asks, just like the girl who’s used to getting straight A’s.

“You’re not selling the feeling. It’s supposed to feel good,” he says, gripping it.

“Mm, What about now?” She says, moaning as he jerks it, pushing hair out of her face only for it to fall back again.

He smiles, putting his other hand behind his head. “Yeah, like that. Fucking come all over me.”

She giggles again, a little breathless, he’s not sure how much longer he can do this with her without penetration.

Apparently she feels the same way. “Can you put lube on my big dick?” She asks.

He wants to laugh. He bites it back so she won’t yell at him but she hits him, anyway. “Shut up,” she says, grinning. “Act like I’m him.”

Patrick opens his mouth and then closes it again. He reaches into the box for the lube and rubs it over the toy.

“You should take that shirt off.” He tells her.

“Shh, turn around,” she tells him. “On your hands and knees.”

He sits up and kisses her before doing what she asks. She rubs his ass through his boxers. Something he does to her often and he smiles. Art’s not on the tv anymore, he can hear the host interviewing some singer he’s never heard of. That’s okay, he can still tell him that they fucked while he was talking about them.

“It’s gonna feel good,” Tashi says softly, taking his boxers down.

“Don’t come inside, I’m not on the pill,” he tells her.

She smacks his bare ass and there’s just enough sting there for him to like it. “You're so stupid,” she says quietly as she eases it inside.

”Mm and you love it,” he replies. It actually feels… kinda nice. He relaxes into it.

“You like this don’t you?” Tashi breathes.

“Mmhm,” he hums.

“I wish I could fuck you all the time,” she says.

”So fuck me all the time then,” he sighs as she slides it in and out.

“Does it feel like this when Art does it?”

Patrick smiles, his stomach tightens, his breathing is picking up. “Mm too gentle.”

“Really? He’s not gentle?”

“Sometimes, when he’s in his head.”

She picks up her pace and he groans, “How about now?” She asks, “still too gentle?”

”I can take more,” he says.

“Of course you fucking can, you’re such a slut for me,” she says. If he was in his right mind he would laugh but she’s found the perfect spot. This glorious aching white hot pleasure races through his body on almost every thrust, he wants to hold her there but he pushes back on her instead and she’s a genius so she picks up the pace. She’s so relentless by the end he’s practically begging her for it. He ends up coming untouched on the sheets. He collapses and rolls over, breathless as she crawls on top of him.

“Do you like it?” She asks. She’s a little bit of a mess and he pulls her closer for a kiss.

“Yes, fucking yes,” he tells her, undoing one of the straps of her fake dick. “A fucking plus.”

He unclips the other strap and pulls it off, before easing his fingers into her panties. She’s so wet he needs to take his fingers out again and taste them.

She rests her head against his chest while he finger fucks her. It’s easy, she was already halfway there while she was fucking him.

“Patrick,” she sighs, sleepily after a minute.

“Yeah?”

“I think my dick is bigger than yours,” she whispers.

Patrick smirks. “And he said you guys were boring.”

[the-cannibal]

Could you do more bowers gang I rlly liked ur Henry one.

Oh for sure! I absolutely love writing for these chaotic boys! I accidentally hit post before I wrote anything, oops! Anyway I hope you like what I came up with, I did gender neutral reader since you didn't specify what you want and I went with poly bowers gang. Hope that's alright!

Poly! Bowers gang X Reader that isn't afraid to put them in their place

Gender neutral reader - they/them and you is used

The gang was physically attracted to you the moment they laid eyes on you. You on the other hand were not attracted to any of them. At least not at first. You knew of the Bowers gang. Everyone did. They were rude, mean, assaulted children because they could, at times were really disgusting, and so many much more... But you caught their attention, lucky you... Patrick Hockstetter whistled at you, making the other three boys snicker. "Hey there, gorgeous, why don't you come with us for a ride?" You walked past them, ignoring them. "Hey!" Patrick shouted at you. "I'm talkin' to you!" "Oh I'm sorry," You stopped in your tracks, still not looking back at them. "I didn't realize it was me you were speaking to. I thought you were whistling for your dogs. But I see all three are already with you." And you continued walking. Henry was pissed off. How dare they speak to them like that?! Patrick was intrigued. No one had ever dared to stand up to him before. Vic and Belch on the other hand were confused, but also some what curious. The boys all decided that they needed to meet you properly, not just stare at you from afar. When they showed up to your house one day and let themselves in you were not amused. You chewed them out for how rude they were, and surprisingly they were silent... That was a first... Then you got to know them each, and became friends, and soon more than that. Now here you were dating all four boys you originally wanted nothing to do with. But that didn't change anything about you. You still put the boys all in their places when needed. "Henry can you please help me with the dishes?" You called out for him. Henry snorted, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "I think you can handle it just fine." You dropped the plate you were cleaning into the sink with a splash, a made quick harsh strides towards Henry, gripping him by the shirt collar and pulling him down to your level. "Now you listen here and you listen good. I will not tolerate that attitude. Ever. Now you help me with these damn dishes or I swear I will have Belch make you walk in the rain for a damn month." Henry shut up right away, helping you with the dishes without any complaints. To be honest, you kind of scared him sometimes.... Patrick on the other hand loved to mess with you. He loved that you had the confidence and bravery to stand up against him. He found it hot to say the least. "Patrick knock that shit off!" You shouted at him. Patrick snickered as he continued to hit you in the back of the head with a small bouncy ball. "I mean it, Patrick..." You mumbled, glaring at him. And before Patrick could hit you again, you whipped around, catching the ball and throwing it over the edge into the quarry water. "I told you to stop. Now if you'll excuse me I'm all hot and bothered so I think I'm going to go take care of that," you turned and looked at Patrick with a mischievous grin. "By myself." That whipped his smirk clean off his face. He loved it when you stood up against him. But hated it when you pulled that card out on him. Now Vic and Belch were different from the other two. They really didn't get on your nerves that much. At least, not personally. They didn't try and not help you like Henry, or hit you with a dumb ball like Patrick. But they did put themselves down. Which got on your nerves the most. "I mean... I just think they deserve better. You know?" Vic said to Belch. "Yeah I think so too. Maybe it would be better if we broke up with them so they could be with Pat and Hen..." "OH NO YOU FUCKING DON'T!" The two suddenly heard you screech as you rushed towards them, covering their faces in kisses. "You. Two. Are. Amazing." You said between kisses. "If I hear you say anything like that ever again I will kill you and then bring you back to life and kill you again. Do you understand me?" "Yes!" Oh how they loved when you would assure them, especially when kissing was involved.

[bordysbae]

“why don’t you ever post me?” & “no need for attitude” with brendan

“valentines day”

brendan brisson x reader

warnings: little cursing

word count: 1.5k

brendan isn’t the type of guy to ‘only post hockey related things’ to his instagram, so you’d expect to be posted on his instagram feed more than just one casual appearance in a photo dump. although you guys have only been dating for 4 months, seeing his friends post their girlfriends and brendan hardly ever posting you, honestly made you really sad. you tried to talk to him about it once but he claimed that he doesn’t like posting too much and that he’d post you next time. and of course, there was no ‘next time.’

with valentine’s day being tomorrow, you couldn’t help but wonder if brendan would be posting you or not. “hi babe” he smiles as he opens the door. “hi bren!” you say, sliding past him into the house. “oh what’s up y/n! i didn’t know you were coming over.” matty says, appearing from the kitchen. “eh i thought i’d stop by. where’s your guys’ valentine’s day stuff? the house is so bland as always” you laugh, taking off your shoes. “you decorate for valentine’s day?! what are you cupid or something?” matty chuckles. “yes i do decorate, and clearly you guys don’t. anyways, i made heart cookies for you guys” “fuck yeah! thanks cupid! i’m definitely calling you that now” matty laughs, taking the plate of cookies from your hands. “yeah dude, she’s fucking obsessed with valentine’s day. even though it’s like the second most irrelevant holiday” brendan chimes in, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “what’s the first most irrelevant?” you question. “st. patrick’s day” “brendan, i swear to god if you aren’t wearing green i’m gonna pinch you” you say, hitting his chest playfully. brendan bursts out laughing, “y/n you’re such a child, now cmon let’s go upstairs” brendan says in between laughs. “yeah but you love it” “i do?” “shut up brendan!”

as you guys are laying in his bed, you can’t help but feel bad. you always tell each other when you’re upset, and knowing you’re hiding your emotions from brendan is making you feel even worse. “hey bren?” you say softly, your head still on his chest. “hm?” he hums not looking up from his phone. “can i ask you something? and please don’t get mad.” this catches his attention and he puts his phone down, resting it on his thigh. “what’s wrong? you’re scaring me” he chuckles nervously. you sit up and look at him with soft eyes, afraid of his reaction to your question. “um, so this is going to be our first valentine’s day together and i know you don’t like posting much on instagram but like, i dunno, i was just wondering if you were gonna post me?” you say, fidgeting with your fingers. “oh uh i hadn’t really thought about it, but like yeah sure i guess? i mean the guys will give me so much shit for it though so like, can i post it on my close friends story? also so the fans don’t like attack you or anything” he shrugs. “what?” you blurt out, stupidly shocked by his answer. as much as you wanted him to say something along the lines of ‘of course i’m gonna post you, no need to ask!’ you knew going into this he was going to say something stupid.

“what do you mean what? i said yes, isn’t that what you wanted?” he says snappily. “i just didn’t expect it to be on your close friends story, i always post you on my public story..” you say, lowering your voice towards the end of the sentence. “well you have like eight hundred followers not twenty thousand! jesus christ y/n you ask me to post you and then complain about me doing so?” he scoffs, and this angers you. “jesus bren, no need for attitude. i’m not about to argue with you over this, i’m going home. if you care so much about what the boys think of you posting your girlfriend, then maybe you shouldn’t have one!” you exclaim, climbing off of his bed and slamming his bedroom door shut. you quickly rush down the stairs, and quickly slip on your shoes not even tying them fully. “y/n whats going on?” matty says from the couch, genuine concern in his voice. “i’m going home, that’s what’s going on. enjoy your fucking cookies!” you yell the last part so that brendan can hear you. “y/n cmon-“ you hear brendan say from the top of the stairs as you make your way out the door, closing it before he can finish.

you get into your car and drive down the street, before pulling into a semi empty parking lot, trying to gather your feelings. you have no idea wether you and brendan are still together or not, and it’s already haunting you.

—

brendan’s pov:

i never realized how stupid it sounded until she repeated it back to me. “if you care so much about what the boys think of you posting your girlfriend, then maybe you shouldn’t have one” the words pierced my heart as they spat out of her lips. i didn’t even realize how dumb i sounded, saving myself from a few taunting comments from my friends, instead of treating the best thing to come into my life with the love she deserves.

i’m in utter shock watching her leave my house. matty looks up at me from the couch. “the fuck is her deal?” matty chuckles, making my blood boil. “nothing matty, its not her fucking fault so don’t talk about her like it is!” i shout at him, instantly taken back by my own words. “yo dude chill out. what the hell just happened?” he asks. “i don’t even know matty. its alll my fault” i say, trying to hold back tears. matty walks over to me and meets me halfway on the stairs, pulling me into a tight hug. “wanna talk about it?” “yes please.”

he sits me down on the couch and i explain everything. he looks at me with pity. “look man i agree, it is your fault. but that doesn’t mean i won’t help you. i think you should give her space, but at least just text her asking if you guys are still together. valentine’s day is tomorrow briss, you gotta fix this sooner than later” he says patting my shoulder. i listen to his words and text her.

me: are we still together?

y/n <3: idk, do u wanna be?

me: yeah.

y/n <3: then we are, sorry for lashing out at u

me: you’re sorry? y/n stop it, I’M sorry. can i come over, i wanna apologize in person

y/n <3: yeah sure i guess

immediately i bolt off of the couch, startling matty. “i gotta go man, cya” “where are you going?” “y/n’s house. i’m getting her flowers on the way there” “oh, okay.” matty says slightly confused.

—

no one’s pov:

as you open the door, your puffy eyes are met with brendan’s bloodshot eyes and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “brendan you didn’t need to get me anything” you say, letting him into your apartment.” “it’s the least i could do. y/n i’m so fucking sorry.” “brendan its-“ “no no no it’s not okay. let me finish” he says, as you take the bouquet into the kitchen.

“i’m so stupid y/n. i was too embarrassed to get taunting comments made by my friends than to post the one girl i love most. i hate myself for it, and i never even realized how stupid it sounded until you repeated it back to me. i promise im not embarrassed of you, and the thought that you may think that genuinely makes me sick. i know i let you down, and i don’t think i’ll forgive myself for that.” he sighs after finishing his ramble. “brendan you didn’t let me down. i mean yeah it doesn’t feel good to not get posted by your boyfriend, but i promise you didn’t let me down. i love you brendan, and i know how the boys can be. you’ve told me before that you always feel like a punching bag to them, so i don’t blame you for putting a guard up, i just wish it wasn’t a guard over our relationship. i know we can work through these problems, and i just want us to have a good valentine’s day together” you smile at him. his eyes go soft, and he immediately leans in to kiss you. your guys’ lips melt against each other, and you feel the love. honestly, you think this is the most meaningful kiss you’ve ever had, and so brendan thinks so too. “i swear i’m gonna marry you one day.” he says as he kisses the top of your head.

the next morning you wake up to not only a story post, but also a 10 slide photo dump with a thought-out caption. the photo dump contains pictures you guys have taken together, stupid little videos of you, and lastly a photo of brendan kissing your temple as you slept. your heart feels full as you read the caption he wrote for you. ‘happy valentine’s day to my amazing v-day obsessed girlfriend. thank you for coming into my life, i love you.’ “god i love valentine’s day” you say to yourself.

[georgevilliers]

challengers fic recs

so in light of my previous post about art/patrick dynamics in fics, here are some fics I've read that I have really enjoyed so far (I'm not listing them here but please always be mindful of the tags and ratings...most of these are porn, so)

backslide - spqr - “So,” Patrick says, after an awkward minute. “I’m still your emergency contact.” “I forgot to change it,” Art lies.

this monstrous fire - kithmet - Afterward, in the hotel room, there’s a shift.

futile devices - emarallax - It hurts. Art had come to forget. Not to remember. “I’m sorry,” he begins, much more mellow now. “I had a shit day and I read the whole thing wrong.” “No no no no,” he shakes his hands placatingly in front of him, smiling even wider now. “You didn’t. I’m Patrick.” Art gives him a polite smile in return, “Art.” “You certainly are,” Patrick murmurs.

brutalizer - spqr - “If you win tomorrow,” Tashi tells Patrick, "I’ll let you fuck him.”

my moral standing is laying down - comosum - “It means he likes me to talk about you when we fuck,” Tashi says, blunt. Art feels every part of him go hot. “Tashi,” he says. “What?” Tashi asks. “We were going there anyway.”

cherrylime - concentrate, kocasoda - Their hotel room is still ten degrees hotter than it should be.

no 'i' in three - sundermount - “I am a stay-at-home husband, if you haven’t noticed,” Art says drily. “Taking care of my daughter while you fly around the world with my wife, Mister Calvin Klein.”

soft living - spanish_sahara - Years after the New Rochelle Challenger. Vignettes of a summer in Los Angeles.

is a dream a lie if it don't come true or is it something worse - comosum - “Have you read this?” Tashi doesn’t raise a brow but she does level him with a look. The look says that if she wanted to exert more than an iota of effort into this conversation, she would raise a brow. “Did you buy,” she drawls, still tapping out a rhythm on her laptop, “a teen magazine?” “It’s GQ,” Art says. There’s a beat. “Tashi.”

hit where it hurts - plastiswafers - Art's still not good enough, and Tashi needs another favor before the US Open begins. Patrick is all too happy to oblige.

games to play - civilbores - Art agrees to go on a road trip with Patrick and Tashi, and gets more than he bargained for.

triptych - kithmet - Tashi begins coaching Patrick—as does Art, in a way.

put all you need in me - melobaby - In which the hotel with Tashi wasn't the first time Art and Patrick have kissed.

if it turns out i peaked in high school just shoot me - anonymous - (it's a high school au)

it's only sex (it's only sex) - sharkhead - He just cracked open the window, and pulled a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket, half on the floor and half on her desk chair. He was musing on how far he must have thrown it, when Tashi says, voice clear and even from the bed, “You talk about Art a lot when we're fucking.”

we kiss and we keep busy - madddi13 - "Patrick what- what are you doing?” “Entertaining myself, Arty.” He says matter of factly, then leans up and sucks on Art’s skin.

knee deep in the passenger seat - melobaby - Two weeks after their Challenger, Art and Patrick have a night to themselves. They have a lot to talk about.

too bright to look at - timeloops - That’s the thing about Patrick Zweig. All he does is want. He doesn’t know how to stop. —patrick zweig, on desperately wanting someone to look back at you, even if you have to drive them away to do it

like real love - vokdas - Art tries not to worry about whether his wife loves him because he was always second to tennis anyway, and then third to Lily, and that’s fine. It’s not until he’s pushed to fourth that the wound starts to rot.

plausible deniability - plastiswafers - The page is unambiguously TMZ, but most of the screen is a photograph. A shitty photograph, to be sure, one that looks like it was taken with someone’s iPhone 4 and left to marinate for the better part of a decade—but a photograph. Of Art. And Patrick. At the Grove, two days ago. Patrick is kissing what could charitably be called Art’s cheek but is, in reality, the corner of his mouth. Art has an arm looped around Patrick’s shoulders. He’s all smiles. The headline: Following US OPEN FLAMEOUT, Art Donaldson seen with MYSTERY…MAN? DIVORCE RUMORS hit fever pitch—WHERE’S TASHI?

open heart / open container - comosum - “I don’t think you ever bought your own cigarettes in the six years I knew you.” “You’ve known me eighteen years,” Art corrects, instinctively.

che sarà sarà - galehautstomb - Art had been married to Tashi for half a decade and was still amazed by her ruthless efficiency in every aspect of her life. This included, to the surprise of no one who knew her well, vacations – or rather, breaks snuck between tennis matches which she qualified as such.

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ only! Sexual content, blood, death, questionable morals when Max is involved. Did I mention blood?

My masterlist

Pedro Pascal

Two years, six days and 8 hours ago, you walked into your boss’s office expecting to be fired. It’d only been a few months since you started, but the changeover was hectic, and standards of working slipped through the cracks. 

The fact this was your first corporate job didn’t help. They had hired you under the referral of your old roommate. The idea was a long shot, but you got the job. The hours were long, and the pay was shit, but you didn’t have to sweat your ass off or wear a name tag. 

Overall, being employed at Acla’s Pharmaceuticals wasn’t bad. 

Didn’t mean you wouldn’t get fired for forgetting a coma in paperwork, though. 

Which led to you being called to Max Phillips’ office. Your flats were rubbing against your heel as you walked. The smell of desperation and stale coffee clogged your nose, and, for the life of you, finding his office was impossible. 

The mental math of your budget and bills ran through your head at top speeds. Thoughts of ramen packets and macaroni and cheese blended with your cat’s brand of food. You could afford to feed yourself or your cat for the next three months and, let’s be real, your cat wins. 

Knocking on the door felt wrong. It echoed. 

Your stomach twisted when Mr. Phillips shouted for you to come in. 

It twisted again when you saw blood all over his desk, covering his tie and dripping from the pen in his hand. You wouldn’t say it looked like a massacre. That’d be extreme, but a solid murder was possible. 

Was the blood his? 

Did he mean to call janitorial and got you instead? 

Was that possible? You were in claims which, yes, sucked, but wasn’t near the cleaning crew was it? 

(Not that anything’s wrong with the cleaning crew. You simply hated vacuuming and there seems to be carpet in a lot of places here.) 

Max smiled when he noticed you. 

“Ah, there you are.” The blood dripped off the pen, splattering over paperwork. 

“Um, you needed me Mr. Phillips?”

His smile tilted as he shook his head. “Please, call me Max.” 

“Sorry Mr-.” You paused, “Uh, Max.” 

He rose to his feet, the tie swinging across his white shirt. When you glanced down at it, he followed your gaze and huffed out a laugh. 

“Yes,” He dabbed the tie with his fingers, “You must be wondering why I asked for you.” 

That’s an understatement. 

Did he need an alibi? 

Could you be an alibi? How long were you at work? 

“I was talking to Janet, your office manager. She says quite a few things about you.” His smile widened. “All good things, of course. One thing she mentioned really stuck out. You were a medic, right?” 

You’re not sure if a medic could handle this. How many bandaids did he need?

“Uh,” You tried to look away from the bloody handprint he left when he stepped around the desk, “Not really. I trained in phlebotomy, but had to quit when my sister got sick.” 

Another smile, all teeth, “You worked with blood though, right?” 

“That’s the whole point of phlebotomy.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. 

Max’s smile faded, dripping with blood. He rounded the desk to lean against it, his arms crossed, the red under his fingernails left marks on his suit. 

You were getting fired and, possibly, blamed for murdering someone. 

When Max burst into laughter, it startled you. “Ah, excellent, a sense of humor. That’s what we like around here, Sugar. People who can dish out as good as they get. Did you know Patrick Chambers in HR once did a standup routine for the Christmas party? Guy has the laughs.” 

“I bet.” Jesus, shut up. 

Max clapped his hands together. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d help me with something.” 

When he pushed away from the desk, his foot kicked out, dragging your gaze down and- “That’s a head.” 

“Yes, it is, and you, Sugar, are going to help me keep that from happening.” Once more he smiled, canines extended.

“I’m not being fired?” 

Max winked. “Promoted more like it.” 

Two years, 6 days and 9 hours ago they handed you an NDA with a contract to help Max attain blood donations without killing (sometimes) people. 

(He still killed people, you learned, but only when they didn’t meet their quarterly goals) 

Since that day, you’ve spent hours on end in the man’s office with bags of blood being loaded into a built in cooler. Max wanted to throw them in all at once, but the blood was fragile. You had to make sure they stayed hanging and didn’t congeal before you could store them. Max had a penchant for B+ which meant you had to organize the other types as backups. 

Now and then you got stuck sitting in the office's corner as he held a stranger against the desk and bit down. 

“Nothing beats the fresh stuff, Sugar.” He’d aim a finger gun at you.

“You’re going to run out of suits if you keep it up on the clock.” You’d slip his dry cleaning receipt towards him. 

He’d given you three days off a week. Those three days you lived by a schedule of importance. 

Grocery shopping (vegetarian meals don’t last long) 

Bills (Max pays you a pretty penny) 

Therapy

Therapy is important. 

You’d been worried about the mental trauma you experienced every day working for Max. What gets brought up the most is your inability to form proper boundaries. 

“Your boss expects a lot of you.” Kathryn hums, her eyes focused on yours. 

“The vacation days are wonderful.” They really are. You could take your sister and three friends to San Diego last year for a week and afford to splurge your heart’s content. 

Sometimes, when you’re sitting across from your therapist you think about walking into Max’s office and finding another dead body. You think about the blood covering his suit, coating his hair, the way the air had a copper taste to it. It’d cross your mind faster than a hamster wheel and you always had the same reaction.

Indifference. 

Which, honestly, isn’t a surprise to you. 

You say it’s amazing compartmentalization skills. Kathryn says it’s deeply rooted repression. 

Tomato, tomahto. 

All that being said, nothing would have prepared you to walk into Max’s office on this day. Your bag is heavy over your shoulder with newly bagged blood. The door opened with a squeak, reminding you to ask Hamish for some WD-40. Looking up at the hinges distracts you from the noise. 

The squelch behind your head sounding like Max draining his last baggie. 

Your mind focused intently on what needed to be refilled that it took a solid thirty seconds for you to realize what was happening. 

The flex of Max’s ass, the sharp smack of hips against hips and the muffled moans of the woman he had bent over the desk. The same tie he’d wore the day you thought he’d fire you shoved into her mouth. 

Max had his hand circling her wrist, his other hand pinning her down. 

It wasn’t the blatant and unprofessional display of sex that had your mind reeling. 

It was how good Max looked, his mouth covered in blood, trails of it following the line of his chest. He tossed his jacket and left his shirt open. His slacks pooled around his ankles and you could see the tense hold of his thighs. 

There was blood running from the woman’s neck, her chest, her legs. Max had it on his fingers, caked beneath his nails. 

The first thought that bubbled to the surface and made its way out of your mouth stunned you. “Did you finish the Carpelix file first? 

You rarely remembered the name of the new blood pressure drug. 

Unless it involved your boss’s ass, you guess. 

The woman turned her head before Max did. Her eyes half lidded, spit drowning the tie. She had a pale hue to her skin, the pallor striking next to the dark wooden desk. 

She muffled something around the tie which had Max looking over his shoulder at you. 

“You’re back early.” He fucked into her, hard, jarring the desk that held them up. 

“Traffic was light.” With that, you walked towards the cooler. 

There was only one baggie left like you expected. An O negative, his least favorite. You tried not to stock up too much on O blood types. Sometimes you didn’t get lucky enough to wrangle A or B types and Max could suck it up. Literally. 

“Did you stop for bagels?” He sounded closer. You glanced back and shook your head as he buttoned up his pants. 

The woman was squirming, her hands slipping in the blood as she lifted herself up. You raised a brow at Max who looked down at the woman and frowned. 

“Regina,” He pulled her up, “You’ve met before, right?” He waved a hand towards you, the other circling her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. 

The woman, Regina, squinted at you. “I don’t know.” 

You squinted yourself, looking closer as Max slid his hand up her side. He cupped her breast his thumb brushing her nipple, and she shivered.

Max tilted her chin to the side, aiming her full gaze at you. 

“Regina Mallord.” You rolled your eyes. “She rear-ended my car a few months ago.” 

He smiled, “Did she?” 

Regina was whining as Max played with her, his fingers moving across her chest, over her nipples and back. She squirmed in his hold as blood dripped down her neck. Some of it dried around her collar bone, fingerprints marking through the path. 

“If I remember correctly,” Max murmured, “Your car was in the shop for a week, right? If I also remember, you had to Uber to work.”

You rolled your eyes again, “Yes, Max. You complained about me being late for a week straight — I wasn’t late. You’re just impatient in the mornings.” 

He nips at Regina’s ear. “I really am.” There’s a moment, a single moment, where your eyes meet. 

Max winks again, slowly, his mouth stretching as his face contorts, brow scrunching. The veins along his temples darkened before he opens his mouth wide and rips Regina’s throat out. 

Both of you watch her body hit the floor with a wet crash. 

You sigh, “What was the point of that?”

Max nudges her arm with his foot, stepping over her to move closer to you. “She was in the break room when I went to clean my cup.” 

“So, you decided to fuck her then kill her?” 

He reached out, his finger tracing the line of your jaw, “I planned on only killing her, but I got a bit rowdy.” 

You swiped his hand away. “A bit?” 

Max stepped closer, leaning against the cooler, his hand coming back up to touch your necklace. “I saw her car yesterday. I recognized it from you showing me the cameras. You had to pay almost 3000 to get your car fixed.” 

“Yeah,” You didn’t swipe him away this time, let him drag a path from your neck to your jaw, “That’s what I get for forgetting to re-up my insurance.” 

Max quirked a brow. “You’re a treasure, Sugar.” 

“You say that because I don’t question,” You directed your gaze at Regina’s body, “that.” 

“Hmm, yeah.” He leaned closer, “but also because you make my day a little better.”

A spike of pleasure shot down your spine, heat curling in your belly. Max’s eyes were deep pools that crinkled when he smiled. There was an innocence to them, a puppy dog look that made it hard to tell him no. 

It’s worse when he tilts his lips into a smile and aims his attention at you. 

You’d blame it on his hypnosis abilities, but you knew the truth — Max Phillips is a gorgeous son of a bitch. People rotate between wanting to stake him in the heart or suck his dick. 

Right now, you want to do both. 

Mostly the dick part. 

The other would spill more blood and Jeffery will have a hell of a time as is. 

“Sugar,” He drew your attention back to him, “How about I take you for dinner tonight?” 

You sigh, “Max,” His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, “It’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah?” Another look at your lips. His tongue darts out to lick away the blood at the corner of his mouth. 

“Tomorrow is the corporate meeting.” Max frowns. 

“That’s not until July.” 

“Max,” His mouth flattens, “It is July.” 

The kiss was tangy, his lips sliding along yours. His tongue taste of blood, coffee, and something else. Something deeper. It tastes of Max. 

“Sugar,” He whispers when he pulls back, “Let me take you to dinner. It’s the least I could do for all that you do.” 

“Max.” 

“I love hearing you say my name.” He kissed you again. This kiss was deeper, harder his arm circling your waist to press you to his chest. 

What does it say about you that this was the best kiss you’ve ever had? Having Max Phillips groaning into your mouth, his fingers digging into your hip. You can feel the shift of his legs as he turned you around to press against the wall. 

The way his body fits against yours makes your knees weak. 

Your mind reeled, making you dizzy headed as he nipped at your jaw, down your neck. It was heady, heavy, the air thick around you. 

Your eyes fell on Regina’s dead body, and the kissing stopped. 

“Max.” He buries his face in your neck, “Max.” You push at his shoulder. 

He sighs, “Yes?” 

You aim your gaze at the corpse. “She’s staining the carpet.” 

Max barks out a laugh loud enough that it startles you. 

“We’ll finish this tonight, yeah? For now, you mind calling the cleaning staff and make sure Jeffery brings more than one bag.” 

Two years, 6 days and 10 hours since you thought you were going to be fired, and you had a date with your boss and call for a body clean up. 

Yay.

I have a whole thing with Max killing people for reader 🤨

[ramonaflow]

Summer Word Challenge

Weekly word: Ice cream

Thank you for the tags @mallpretzles 💛

I'm so behind on these

It's an unbearably hot day, the hottest of the year so far, and David is swanning around the store wearing a short sleeved, white t-shirt, not a care in the world. Meanwhile Patrick is losing his mind. Naked arms! David's arms are naked! Patrick has never seen his arms before. His beautiful, deliciously hairy, did he mention naked? arms and he's pretty sure he's not going to survive the day. How the fuck is he supposed to deal with this?

David's top looks a little damp and Patrick is pretty sure he can see his nipples through it, God, he needs to stop looking. This is not professional co worker behaviour! He feels like he's slowly roasting to death and thinking about David's nipples isn't helping. His heart feels like it's pounding out of his chest and he briefly wonders about the possibility of having a heart attack caused by lust. God he's such an idiot. Why didn't he think ahead and wear something similar to David? His shirt is already so uncomfortably sticky. He wipes his forehead with his sleeve and wonders how disgusting he must look. He's sure David keeps glancing over at him and that's just making him sweat even more. He's just trying to figure out how to talk to David about leaving early when he's suddenly interrupted. "You look really hot, Patrick!" Wait, what did David just say? He looks hot? Surely… "Are you ok Patrick? You're bright red." "Oh, uh. Yeah. I mean I'm a bit warm. It's making me feel a little off." "You should go splash water on your face. I'm gonna run to the cafe and get us a cold drink," he doesn't wait for Patrick to reply and disappears out of the door. Ok, so with David out of his vicinity, he can go to the bathroom, cool down, gather his thoughts, and try to breathe. He holds his hands under the cold tap and then runs his fingers through his hair and over the back of his neck. He's still far too hot. He stares at himself in the mirror and realises he was right, he really does look disgusting. His undershirt is soaked through, it needs to go. As long as he's quick he can take it off before David gets back. He heads into the backroom, unbuttons his shirt and peels it off, realising how gross it's going to be when he puts it back on. Oh well, too late to worry about now. He whips off his wet undershirt and drops it on the floor just as he hears the bell above the door chime. Shit, David's back. He starts to quickly pull his shirt back on when the curtain opens.. "Patrick, I got you—" but the words die on David's lips as he takes in the sight of Patrick, messy haired and wet with his shirt hanging open. He just stands gawping at him as Patrick flushes even more. Patrick clears his throat, snapping him out of his stupor and David realises he's just been staring at him, "Sorry, um. I got you a lemonade and I grabbed you an ice cream. Thought it would help but it's already melting. Sorry." Patrick glances at the ice cream in his hand and notices that it's running down his forearm and oh Jesus Christ no. So now he has to watch David with Patrick's ice cream, and try not to stare at his perfect pink tongue as he licks up the white mess covering his arm. Oh please God, he has got to get out of here! Any second now there will be a Patrick shaped hole in the door. But he can't take his eyes off him, his feet feel glued to the floor, and if he thought he was sweating before? Well… Then when David makes this little mmm noise that is it! He can't take anymore. He hastily buttons his shirt and snatches the lemonade out of David's other hand. "Thank you for the lemonade David but I'm really not feeling well. I have to go. I'll text you later." "But what about your ice cream?" David asks. Patrick pauses, one hand on the door, "Like I said, I'm not doing great. Thanks anyway but you can have it." "Well, ok. If you're sure?" Patrick turns back to look at David just in time to see him close his lips around the top of it and suck it into his mouth. He practically runs out of the store, slamming the door behind him.

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina... I need to rant 😠 lmfao

As a life-long Chiefs fan and KC native all I can say is this T*ylor shit is fucking annoying. I know you talk to a LOT of people in the fandom, so you may not remember, but I'm a fellow Sw*ftie hater (maybe that's too harsh but idgaf) and I didn't think it was possible to get more annoyed with this woman than I've been since I stopped being a fan in 2018. Boy, was I WRONG. I'm a die-hard Chiefs fan. I loved my team even when we sucked and couldn't make it to the playoffs (before Patrick Mahomes), so to see EVERYONE make the game on Sunday about her is beyond frustrating. People (Sw*fties) are seriously saying she's the only reason we won. Like we haven't won multiple AFC championships and two Super Bowls in the past three years. Maybe I'm just taking it too seriously, but when our boys played a kick ass game on Sunday after such a shitty season opener (that we lost), it was so nice to see that we're getting our mojo back but I literally can't look at any post, tweet, article, tv segment, etc that doesn't make the game about her.

God, please don't let her be around for the rest of the season 🙏🏻

Also, I'm not saying they're not hooking up, but this is 100% for PR. I've personally never seen them pan to a celebrity so many times during the game. I've never seen "candid" photos of Travis Kelce, Patrick Mahomes, or any of the other popular Chiefs' players leaving Arrowhead Stadium after a game like we just got with Travis & T*ylor, or "candid" photos & videos of any of the popular players driving through the city, which is so sus. And then what really sealed the deal for me was that T*ylor announced earlier today that her concert film will be shown internationally. She was also named as an entertainer of the year for entertainment weekly and is on the cover. Not to mention, she has a new re-recording coming out in a month and continues to announce new versions of the 1989 re-recording. "Someone" must not be happy enough that she's already broke records with the Speak Now sales, is selling the most number of albums overall, but she must be aiming to break those Speak Now records with the 1989 re-recording sales bc she's releasing new versions quite often. I mean, how greedy can one person be. Like you haven't sold enough albums? You don't have enough publicity? You don't have enough money? It's just gross to me.

Also, I personally just found her reactions over the top for someone who isn't even a fan, especially whatever that head shake thing is at the end. But maybe that's just because I find everything she does annoying and cringe.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxmAHqjrACL/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Plus, the stats around Travis and the Chiefs have skyrocketed. So they're absolutely getting a lot out of this as well as the NFL like someone mentioned earlier.

I'll attach an article but here are some numbers:

Travis' jersey sales went up almost 400%

Stubhub ticket sales for Chiefs' home games increased threefold in just 24 hrs

Travis gained 325k new ig followers - more than he gained after winning the last Super Bowl

Sunday's Chiefs' game was the most watched NFL game on any network last week

It was also the most watched game among girls and women 12 to 49 yrs old

https://www.axios.com/2023/09/26/taylor-swift-travis-kelce-merch-sales-up-chiefs-kansas-city

And yes, I know I know a lot about her for someone who doesn't like her. But she's inescapable even when I have muted everything related to her... And now she's taking over my everything related to my favorite football team and my city 🤢 Where's Pete Davidson when you need him? 😂

Ok, sorry for that rant. I know I probably sound ridiculous, but I prefer my life T*ylor free just like I prefer my life Ol*via free, and I thought you might understand 😂 Anyways, feel free not to post if you don't want to discuss her anymore.

I hope you're having a good night, Gina. Lots of love.

She really is a horrendous actress. Everything she did at that game was so embarrassingly fake. But clearly people want to believe it because it’s everywhere.

That’s bananas how much his stats already went up and just shows why it’s worth it to do this kind of nonsense, even to someone who’s already really famous.

I’m not interested in football at all, but I’m so sorry she’s contaminating your safe space. 😩