#will be consulting
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people will hear you talk about struggling with mental illness and say âyou can do anything if you just put your mind to itâ. brother what part of the body does the mental illness happen in. what do you think is the problem
#neurodivergent#adhd#autism#executive dysfunction#shoutout to my dad lmao. mr âjust outthink it!â#fuck! dude i never thought of that#waiiiit wait youre telling me all i have to do to overcome the Problems is put my mind to it#ok lemme consult the mind rq#im back. the mind is what has the Problems#my post#dave speaks
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i've heard your pleas
#art#gravity falls#bill cipher#stanford pines#billford#ford labs au#thank you objectum community for making me question my sexuality#i had to have a group consult to figure out if i count as objectum or not. we decided i dont
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Saw another poll that asked what your natural hair color was with half the choices being shades of blonde and that just won't do. Let's go about this the professional way (this does not describe tone but tones are based off this level system). Some natural levels fall in between these, as human variation will do, but go with what you believe is closest.
Feel free to describe your tone in the tags!
*some level systems include levels 11 and 12 but these are strictly to describe shades lightened above a level 10 and are not considered on the naturally occurring spectrum for hair aside from going lighter with age
#signed: someone who went to fucking hair school#do not consult me on coloring though i only working with my own hair now#hair colors#hair levels#polls#bald people im kissing your beautiful heads
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what if fun danny and super danny lived on as the angel and devil on danny's right and left shoulders
#danny phantom#danny fenton#fun danny#super danny#dash baxter#fanart#cf25art#danny: hold on guys i gotta consult me and me on this one
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headcanon where mike starts working at sparky's after freddy's goes out of commission and matpat ness just likes to infodump abt the fazbear franchise to him
#can you guys believe they named matpat ness btw#i didnt even realize til i was looking up refs for this uniform#how deep does this rabbit hole go#who was the fan consult for this movie#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#matpat#michael schmidt#fnaf movie
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Thereâs a new drug in Gotham making the rounds, one synthesized by Two-Faceâs people; if you take it you will have a 50/50 chance that youâll experience the greatest high of your life or that youâll die.
Batman is desperately trying to find the main lab and cut off the production from the source and hasnât been able to find a lead in weeks.
Thatâs when Gordon gives him a file that was given to him by a âwhite haired ghost kidâ. Itâs a detailed report written similarly to a scientific journal with detailed sources that are mainly first hand accounts from deceased victims of the Two-Face drug.
At the very end of the paper thereâs an address to a Gotham University dorm room with a sticky note next to it that says âif you need help with death or the undead. Yours truly; Danny Fenton.â
#guys look at the tags Iâm too lazy to add it to the main post#my thoughts as to why Danny hated English is because heâs helped write so many scientific papers for his parents the writing style#is ingrained into his day to day writing. this time tho he was trying to be professional for The Batman#he doesnât want to step on Batmanâs territory but since he now lives in Gotham might as well give the main powerhouse a#âhigh just letting you know Iâm in your city nowâ gift#he doesnât even try to hide his identity because he knows that Batman will find it eventually.#might as well help and fulfill his obsession as a consultant to the Bats#Batman now asks Danny to help with communing with the dead to help solve cases#dpxdc#danny phantom#dp x dc#bones prompts#bones writes in the tags
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the experience was slightly original, ahab
#limbus company#lcb#ishmael lcb#ahab lcb#i was making a ishmael and queequeg art and when i finished i thought this was the consultation ishmael had
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I don't think this guy knows what an equation is.
#he's a tech consultant#sir nobody should be consulting you on tech#what the fuck are you talking about
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Tim Drake Accidentally Takes Over the World (and Didnât Think to Mention It)
So, Janet somehow spent decades climbing her way into every government worth a damn, ruling the entire world from behind the scenes. And then, because the universe is apparently wild, she left it all to Tim.
Cut to Tim Drake, the brand-new, completely reluctant secret ruler of the entire planet. And he just⌠never really thought it was worth mentioning?
The Batfam finds out when Bruce stumbles across an encrypted memo traced to a mysterious Gotham office with Timâs name on it.
Bruce, holding up the memo: âTim. Want to explain why this document about, oh, international finance reforms is signed with your encryption key?â
Tim, not even looking up from his laptop: âOh, yeah. That. Janet left me her âglobal influence portfolioâ or whatever. Mostly paperwork.â
The Batfam stares in total shock.
Dick sputters nearly dropping his coffee: "Waitâyouâve been managing world policies?!â
Tim, shrugging, barely paying attention as he emails the president of Germany: âWell, yeah. I figured someone had to keep things running. It's not that big a deal. I mostly just redirect some policies. You know, keep things running smoothly.â
Jason, absolutely cackling: âAre you telling me that little Replacement here is the reason for half the âglobal cooperationâ headlines?â
Tim, scrolling through emails: âThey send me reports; I send suggestions. And honestly, they make it way more dramatic than it is. It's not that hard."
Barbara stares at him, half horrified, half impressed. âHow did we not notice this?â
Tim blinks. âI mean, itâs not like I was actively hiding it. I assumed you guys knew I was⌠kind of managing these things?â
Cue utter disbelief.
Stephanie, laughing too hard to breathe: âTim, do you have world leaders on speed dial?â
Tim, completely unfazed: âOnly the important ones. They text, mostly. Ohâby the way, I mightâve influenced a minor arms control thing last week. Donât worry; itâs all sorted.â
Bruce, looking like heâs two seconds from fainting: âSorted? Tim, we're talking about you having global authority here. People notice these things."
Tim shrugs again as his phone buzzes with notifications. âSure, but itâs not like theyâre going to do anything too crazy. I just suggest stuff, and they listen. Honestly, itâs like herding really powerful, really overdramatic cats.â
Damian, scandalized: âYou mean to tell me, Drake, that youâre manipulating world politics like itâs a game of checkers?â
Tim, still casual: âManipulatingâs a strong word. Like I said, itâs more just nudging things along.â His phone buzzes again. âOh, hang on. France is panicking about their energy policy again.â
The Batfam tries to process the fact that TimâTim, who routinely forgets what day it isâis now, somehow, running the world.
And then his phone buzzes with a message from the UN Security Council.
Tim sighs, glancing down. âOh, great. Looks like theyâre debating nuclear arms again. Be right back.â
Meanwhile, the Batfam is left absolutely speechless, processing the fact that their Timâscrawny, coffee-fueled Timâis apparently one of the most powerful people on the planet. And to him its just another tuesday.
#tim drake#batfam#tim accidentally becomes the most influential person in the world and its not even his fault#janet was totally paranoid ant who knows what and knew she had to get herself involved with any politics she could#somehow this means she ends up becoming some kind of consultant that all the governments go to for any advice#tim just doesn't care because it means more paperwork for him#tim learned everything he knows from janet herself so when she dies they all do what she wrote in her will and go to her son instead#batfam in absolute disbelief#how did none of them realize?!#tbf i dont think its something anyone would realize unless they were out right told#tim drake ruling the world
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Idk what it is but I just love drawing Jason fighting for his life
Commission info / ko-fi Part 2
#someone told me this looked like a screenshot from a show so I'll be riding that high for the rest of the day#i had to consult some paramedics for accuracy#also for the people asking for context: there is none#just that theyâre back in the batcave and heâs on a table in he med bay#only reason I drew this is cuz I've been watching too much 9-1-1...#jason todd#dick grayson#red hood#nightwing#batman#dc#dc comics#fanart#fan art#my art#whump#jason todd whump#angst#cpr#portfolio
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where thereâs sparks, thereâs fire!
pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader
summary: you canât tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him heâs constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but heâs only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you itâs obvious that he wants to fuck you. you donât see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, youâre not special.
âor: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.
word count: 4.6k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it yâall!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.
authorâs note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.
Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.
Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.
You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.
It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Artâs the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.
Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The womenâs tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, sheâs less convincing than she is more forcing you, but itâs basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.
Tashiâs almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldnât fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldnât mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote âNothing serious, heâs just a really good fuck.â and that you should âTotally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.âÂ
You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.
You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that sheâd be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You canât remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.
Heâs Sigma Nuâs secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and heâs nice for a frat guy but heâs definitely not your type. Heâs been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. Youâre in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name.Â
âThere you are!â Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. Heâs wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. Heâs tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. âIâve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.â He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.
You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. âYou found me, so you can go bother someone else now,â you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. âBye.â You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.
Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. âYeah, I missed you too,â he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. Heâs just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. âCute dress.âÂ
You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. Heâs silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. âAre you like, together, or something?âÂ
You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head âNoâ. Patrick beats you to speaking though, âGod no, man.â he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. âI came over here to warn you.â He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like heâs not talking out of his ass.
Brandon/Brianâs brows furrow, clearly confused. âWarn me?â he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves.Â
Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. âYeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.â he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. âCauseâ sheâs really fucking pickyââ
You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. âYou would say snatch, you sick fuck.â you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brianâs shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face.Â
You canât tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him heâs constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But heâs only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you itâs obvious that he wants to fuck you. You donât see it.
Patrick wants to fuck everyone, youâre not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when heâs around you. That doesnât mean anything. Patrickâs just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. Itâs not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts.Â
Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. âAlright, alright. Put the claws away,â You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. âI actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.â He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. âLucky number 14.â
Youâre not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. Heâs objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But heâs kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. Heâs close enough that you can see heâs got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. Thereâs a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose.Â
His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least thatâs what youâve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.
Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what youâre thinking. âThatâs pretty impressive.â he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.
"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we donât look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."
You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.
Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. âYouâve been keeping up with my matches?â His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils.Â
You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. Youâve been caught. Shit.
You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. âOnly when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.â You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup.Â
Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. âStill thinking about me though.â he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.
His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."
Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."
His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you donât know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isnât coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.
It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You canât afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you donât want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you.Â
You donât know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.
âGod, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,â you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. âIâm trying to have fun.â A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didnât need to know that.
Patrickâs cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. âJesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? Iâm being sincere.â The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.
You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. âMaybe Iâd believe that if you werenât such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.â You say, tone mean and condescending. You know heâs right, on some level, but that doesnât stop you.Â
Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around.Â
He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. âYou know, now I do believe you.â he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. âYou must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.â
You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrickâs infuriatingly smug face. âWhat did you just say?â you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach.Â
Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. âYou heard me.â He says, jaw set stubbornly. âYou need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.âÂ
You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. âYouâre a fucking pig.â your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.
Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. âCome on, we both know youâre fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.â He says like itâs obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. âI can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yoââ
Youâre reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off.Â
Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirelyâ something that makes your stomach flip.
He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.Â
Youâre stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as youâre caught under Patrickâs heavy gaze.
He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness.Â
Itâs a tiny closet, youâre pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. âPatrick, Iââ You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you donât have any time to react before his lips are on yours.
The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrickâs lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.
âIf you donât want this, say the word and Iâll stop right now.â He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.
Yeah fucking right.
âZweig,â you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. âIf you donât shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, Iâll kill you.â
Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. âI liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.â
Youâre not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, youâve seen Patrick shirtless before, when heâs on the court and itâs above ninety or when heâs taking up space in Artâs dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where itâs actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso.Â
You canât help reaching out to touch him againâ running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp âvâ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.
âFuck,â you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferableâ all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.
Patrick doesnât even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so youâre pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.
You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. âYou have no idea how long Iâve waited for this.â He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. âIâm gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.â He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you arenât getting mad like you should be. Youâre just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.
You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. âI hate you.â You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. âShit!â Your hands grip the door so hard youâre scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. Youâd never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but heâs definitely the biggest cock youâve taken. Almost porn-star big.
âI know.â He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.
Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think youâd collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasnât practically holding you up.
His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that itâll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope heâs high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not itâll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.
You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussyâs overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.
âFuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good Iâm making you feel on this cock,â he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.
He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrickâs hand is the only one thatâs felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.
âShit, fuck- donât stop.â you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.
âThatâs it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,â Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in. You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. âSo fucking tightâ does it hurt, baby?â he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. âIs my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?â
âGodâ shit, yes!â you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. âHurts so fucking good.â You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.
âFuck yeah, Iâm gonna come,â he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. âI can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,â he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. âI know youâre close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.â
Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. âPatrick!â Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.
He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass.Â
The feeling of Patrickâs hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock.Â
You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. âYou came first.â You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly.Â
âShut the fuck up.â He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You donât say anything.
Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. Youâre ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him heâs using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.
He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.
You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where heâs buttoning up his atrocious shorts.Â
The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. âYou canât go back out like that.â you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks.Â
Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. âIâll text you later.â Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door.Â
âYou donât have my number.â You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.
He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. âArtâll give me your number. â He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted.Â
Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. âPromise.â He says with a reassuring nod, itâs the most sincere youâve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before heâs walking out and closing the door behind him.
You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.
Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.
arty where are you? iâve been looking for you are you okay? hello???
tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!
#â đŻđ˘đľđ˘đđŞđ˘ đ¸đłđŞđľđŚđ´ âĄ#natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words#*places this in your notifs*#hehehehe#i actually have ANOTHER patrick fic that's probably gonna take me a sec#it's more plot heavy#and more angsty#the way i struggled with this#i was terrified the dialogue would sound cheesy#the group chat was consulted#and now we're here#and i like it more now lmao#okay bye!!!#love you!#challengers x reader#challengers x you#challengers fanfic#challengers smut#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig imagine
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broke: many worker ants are reproductively viable; the neat division of ants into reproducing queens and nonreproducing workers is a human social construct.
woke: many worker ants are reproductively viable, but the eggs and young of these gamergates are frequently eaten by other workers, and sometimes they are punished for reproducing; the neat division of ants into reproducing queens and nonreproducing workers is socially constructed by ants
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Anakin & Dooku original Revenge of the Sith fight choreography with lightsaber effects [x]
#Haydenâs so good at this damn#still thinking about how they casually dropped the line about anakin making 20 training holos for Ahsoka#and that Disney needs to hire hayden and make those#just make him the lead light saber consultant at this point#hayden christensen#anakin skywalker#count dooku#fight choreography#revenge of the sith#rots behind the scenes#behind the scenes#Nick gillard#video
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#nancy drew#batgirl#cassandra cain#comic#comics#crossover#secret reagent comic#<- crossover tag#2025#dc#dc comics#for once this isnt based on game nancy its slightly more-- at least visually-- based on nancy from the files series in the 80s etc#also i usually give her a darker red hair but i didnt want her to look too much like babs lol#depending what era of cass this is theres good odds she just reveals her face to nan#i was thinking about how she acts in the connor hawke crossover#also the-blue-phantom got an editing credit bc i had to consult their brain which is full of nancies drew#actually if you like nancy drew read their fic. its peak
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helo creatures
no nuance i camt fit it in their, u can comment tho
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