imawhoreforu - Tumblr blog

[imawhoreforu]

Patrick Zweig would love this song. Not only because of the lyrics, but he’d find out beabadoobee wrote it about her ex-boyfriend and ex-bestfriend who abandoned her and got together and that knowledge would make it automatically make it feel more personal to him….

[imawhoreforu]

"we need more bi men in movies" y'all couldn't even handle him

[imawhoreforu]

good morning kittens!!!!!!!!!

[imawhoreforu]

this is real i saw him tweet it

[imawhoreforu]

Unfinished Business

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Serial Killer!Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: talk of beating/raping women and children (implicit, just mention), near drowning/death, car crash

Summary: You’re the most wanted woman in the country, and the BAU finally has you in its grasp. You hunt and kill truly evil people but it doesn’t seem to matter to the authorities if the victims are rapists, killers, and abusers. You’re doing this country a favor and you’re not finished. It doesn’t matter if you’re caught or not. You’re going to find a way to continue your work.

Square Filled: criminal au (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

If the damn clock wasn’t bolted to the wall, you would have ripped it from the plaster and shattered it to pieces. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be at home snuggling with your dog who you presume is missing you. Your sister knows to take him in if she doesn’t hear from you within twenty-four hours so you have no doubt he will be taken care of.

Instead, you’re sitting handcuffed to a table in the BAU.

You’ve been on the FBI’s Top 10 Most Wanted for three years now for your notorious work in slicing up men and women who deserve it. Every single one of your victims was far from innocent, but the FBI doesn’t care if you’ve been cleaning house. All they care about is the fact you have hundreds of victims under your belt.

You’ve been killing since you were a child because your father got you into it. It started with random strangers on the highway (he was a truck driver and would pick them up). He’d get them talking and if he so much got an inkling that they were less than innocent, he’d kill them. He taught you to wear gloves, clothes that don’t fit you, shoes that were slightly too big for you, to always have a wig on, talk with an accent, and never trust anyone.

He was never caught and died almost a decade ago. Now you’re left to continue his work.

Men who rape. Men who kill for fun. Men who abuse. Women who abuse. Women who kidnap. They’re all fair game. You’re ridding the world of evil one person at a time.

The reason you’re sitting here and not at home drinking wine is that you decided it was best to work with someone to take down a small group of abusers. The group was small, maybe five or six men, but they went out and assaulted women at night and left them for dead. This other person who you shall not name knew your father and reached out to you. He wanted to work with you in bringing the group down and you trusted him enough to agree.

Your first mistake.

Your second is when you gave him the task of finding an easy way out in case something went wrong. Something did. There was another man in the house who called 911. Your “friend” got away. You got caught. When the FBI realized who they caught, you knew you wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. There have been two dozen confirmed victims of yours but you know that number is well into the three hundreds by now.

You’ve saved a bunch of men, women, and children from getting abused and hurt, and there isn’t a thing you’d change if you could do it all over again.

You’ve been sitting in this godforsaken room for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe that’s their tactic. Maybe they want you to slowly go insane so you’ll confess to more crimes. You were born at night, not last night. At best, you’ll get three consecutive life sentences. There is no way you’re going to ever see freedom… that is if you were completely alone in this. There is a reason why your father was never caught. He has friends on the inside that you can turn to, so you know you’ll be okay if you get sent to jail.

You tap the metal table with a perfectly manicured nail when the door opens and a black man walks in with a thick file in his hands. Damn, he’s not the one you were hoping would come in. The one who apprehended you was white, and he had the most beautiful brown eyes. Lean but not too skinny. Curly hair. Such beautiful features.

The man sits across from you and lays out pictures of men you’ve killed over the years. They are unsolved cases but the FBI doesn’t know that you’re responsible for them. You keep your eyes on the man as he lays out six photos of men.

“Where are they?”

“What, no introduction? No, ‘How’s it going?’ I don’t get any of that?”

“My name is Agent Morgan, and you’re going to tell me where you buried their bodies.”

“Bold of you to assume I killed them.”

Agent Morgan takes out six more photos and lays them underneath the men’s portraits. Each of the new photos is of their crime scenes. You left a lot of blood behind but none of it is yours.

“Do you know what a signature is?” You don’t answer. “You like to leave behind a name written in your victim’s blood.” In each of the photos, you can see the name you wrote on their walls or mirrors. “Femme Fatale. No one else does that but you. So, I’ll ask again, where did you bury their bodies?”

“Mmm. Ask me again. This time, add ‘please’,” you smirk.

“This is not a game, Y/N. Tell me where they are and maybe we can work out a deal.”

“I’m already seeing three consecutive life sentences for the murders you’ve already pinned on me. Unless your deal is me walking out of this building without so much as a scratch on my record, I’m not telling you shit.”

Agent Morgan nods and gathers the photos. He’s done. He knows he’s not going to get anything out of you right now. He opens the door to leave but you stop him before he can.

“When you’re ready to come back, bring in the cute one. I have a thing for brown eyes and curly hair.”

Agent Morgan all but slams the door on his way out. It’s an hour before someone comes back to you, and this time, it’s who you want.

“Ah, there he is,” you grin and sit up straighter.

“So, I’m the cute one?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ooh, a doctor. I’m impressed. You look so young.”

Spencer opens a file and takes out pictures, different than the ones Agent Morgan showed you. They’re of your apartment, more specifically, the room you have hidden underneath your stairs. You have a basement in the house but the stairs to it are located underneath your staircase going to the second floor. The door is only accessed when you pull up the last step of the staircase. You had that installed when you bought the house so that your extracurricular activities can remain a secret.

Inside the basement are records of the men and women you’ve killed, where you’ve put their bodies, future victims on your list, and people you are suspicious of. You hate that they found that, but it doesn’t matter. You have many houses across the country and even one in Europe that all have the exact same information. If your father taught you anything, it’s to keep backups and backups of your backups.

The only difference is that every safehouse has a different list of different men and women. There are a lot of evil people on this Earth, and you’ve only worked in one country. Imagine what you’d find in Europe.

“We know you’ve killed more than two dozen. It looks like hundreds.”

“What else do you know?”

“I know that you’re smart--smarter than you’d have us believe. I know that you like to work alone. With a rap sheet like yours, you can’t trust anyone. It’s the reason you got caught. The one time you trusted another person, they let you down.”

“So, you’re not just pretty, you’re smart, too.”

“You can deny it all you want, but the facts are right here.”

“I’m not denying any of it. I killed them. All of them. You know where their bodies are. You don’t need a confession out of me which makes me think you wanted to see me.” You grin and lean forward as much as you can. “Isn’t that right, Spencer? You just wanted to talk to me.”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of your life,” he whispers.

“I like it when you talk dirty to me,” you smirk and lean back.

“We will be transporting you to a high-facility prison before sunrise.”

“As long as you’re in the car with me.” Spencer doesn’t say anything and cleans up the photos from the table. Like with Agent Morgan, you don’t let him leave just yet. “I’m not a bad person, Dr. Reid.”

“According to your basement, you’ve killed over three hundred people.”

“Richard Sigler was raping his six-year-old daughter. Her own mother didn’t believe her when she told her about it. Benjamin Cross has beaten and raped ten women over the course of a month. He was about to add an eleventh victim when I caught up to him. Alexis Greene aided her husband in kidnapping three children. I was with my sister’s kids when she tried it with me. She never got to a fourth.” You rest your elbows on the table. “I never hurt innocent people.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything and leaves the room. It’s another two hours before you’re placed in the back of a car with Spencer behind the wheel. Luck must be on your side because you two are alone.

“What, no one else is going to join us?”

“They didn’t need to. It’s a short drive.”

“Lucky me,” you grin. “So, since I’ll probably never have a genuine conversation with anyone else, tell me about yourself.” Spencer doesn’t answer. “Let me guess, you’re a reserved know-it-all. Secret romancer? Kinky in bed?”

“Shut up,” Spencer sighs.

“Ah, so you’re kinky, huh? What are you into? Personally, I love being tied up. Choking is a big one.”

“Like I’m going to tell you what I’m into.”

“You don’t have to. I can read people pretty easily. You’re an open book.”

Spencer tries to focus on the road but it’s snowing pretty hard. He didn’t know there would be a snowstorm soon. He thought he’d be able to drop you off and return to the BAU before it hit. He turns the windshield wipers on but it doesn’t do much for the snow pouring down.

“Maybe we should pull over. Get nice and cozy in here,” you chuckle.

“And give you a chance to escape? No way.”

“I have cuffs on, Spencer. You’re the one in control. That’s one of your kinks, right? Being in control.”

“Okay, right now, I need you to shut up.”

You do only because the car is shaking. There must be black ice on the road, and Spencer is trying his best not to skid too much. Spencer doesn’t look nervous but you can tell by his labored breathing and the slight perspiration on his forehead that he’s nervous as hell. The only reason you are, too, is because there is a giant lake to the right of you, and you’ve seen too many movies where cars skid on black ice and end up in lakes.

“Spencer, maybe you should pull over,” you say seriously.

“Don’t tell me how to drive.”

The streetlights barely give Spencer enough light to see the road in front of him, and the snow piles onto the windshield faster than the wipers can remove it. Spencer jerks the wheel to the right to avoid a pothole when the car is caught on a sheet of black ice. The car spins in circles before plunging into the freezing cold waters of the lake. Spencer’s head slams into the steering wheel and is knocked out immediately. Water rapidly fills the car, too fast for your liking. You take off your seatbelt and squat onto the seat so you can slide your cuffed wrists underneath your feet. You’re very flexible for someone your age, and you’re thanking your sister for pushing you to do yoga.

You hop into the front seat and ram your elbow into the passenger window. When all you get is a bruised bone, you know you have to try something else before all of your oxygen is taken from you. After all you’ve done, you’re going to let something like this take you out. The water has reached your chest now, and you open the glove compartment for something hard to break the window.

This is a cop’s car, so they have the tools needed to break open windows. You grab the small tool and slam it into the window. It shatters immediately, and you quickly swim out of the window into the dark lake. You’re about to swim to the surface when you look back at Spencer. You can’t leave him there. He’s going to drown. He’s innocent.

You don’t hurt innocents.

You swim to the other side of the car and use the same tool on his window. You reach in and grab him only to realize that he still has his seatbelt on. The tool you have is also good for cutting seatbelts, so you slice his lap belt and pull him out of the car. It’s hard since you’re handcuffed but you have to get him out of the lake.

Your lungs burn from not having enough oxygen, and black spots start to form in your vision. No matter what, you have to get to the surface before you pass out. Just when you think you’re going to suck in a lungful of water, you break through the surface. You struggle to keep both your head and Spencer’s above water but you manage to swim to the edge of the lake. You push Spencer onto the ground and heave yourself next to him.

Shit, you’re freezing. You reach into his pockets and see if there is a key for your handcuffs. Again, luck must be on your side because there is. You unlock the cuffs and place one of them around Spencer’s wrists and the other to the very thin light pole next to him. You can’t have him following you. You look at Spencer’s face to see him paler than before with blue lips.

“Spencer!”

You lean over him, place your lips over his, and blow into his mouth. You pull back and start doing three chest compressions. You repeat the process five times before Spencer coughs up a bunch of water.

“Oh, thank God,” you sigh. “You’re alive.”

“What happened? How did you…?”

“Sorry, babe. I gotta go before they realize you’re missing.”

Spencer jerks his body only to realize he’s handcuffed to the light pole. You grin and hold up the key to the cuffs. You toss them over to him but they’re just shy of his feet. If he stretches hard enough, he’ll reach them but only after he gets his strength back.

“No, get back here right now or I’ll--”

“You’ll what? Arrest me?” You take a few steps before turning back to him. “Don’t take this personally. I have a list to complete. Oh, soft lips by the way. If things were different… As much as I like you, I really hope I don’t see you again.”

Spencer sits helplessly and watches you parade off into the night. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see you again but he’ll try like hell to make sure he does.

x

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[imawhoreforu]

challengers (2024) — bts photos by anthony prince

[imawhoreforu]

do yall think art donaldson listened to igor when it dropped in 2019

[imawhoreforu]

when tashi asks “so what about the two of you?” and patrick’s face goes a million miles away because it’s easy to tell a story about childhood curiosity but much harder to talk about the enormity of the desire that has festered under your skin ever since

[imawhoreforu]

fwb!art starts to get attached to you so quick. it only takes a few weeks before he’s dreaming about just kissing you and holding you and making dinner with you.

you’d both agreed to keep things simple by only having sex and not developing feelings for one another, but you should have expected that art wouldn’t be able to keep the promise.

one evening, when you’re getting up from his bed to leave, he sits up and swallows thickly before speaking up; his covers pulled up over his lap to hide his nakedness.

“would you, i mean… w-would you wanna stay the night tonight?”

and you immediately know what’s going on. art’s the total package; he’s cute, and he’s sweet, and he’s smart, and he’s talented, but you don’t want to be tied down to a relationship right now. your stomach drops a little.

“Art,” you start, but this makes him instantly shift to sit up further with this look on his face like he knows you’re about to crush his heart.

“it’s just one night,” he says gently, almost bargaining, “it’s like, basically midnight. wouldn’t it just be easier to stay over?”

but its art. you know him. you can’t. if you give him an inch, he’ll beg for a mile.

you can’t stay.

so you grab your clothes, and you make him watch you get dressed silently, before you walk back over to his bed and sit down. you sigh and cup his cheek, “we said we weren’t gonna—“

but his face instantly crumples and it halts your words from spilling out any further. it’s subtle, the way his face changes, but you know he’s on the verge of an emotional breakdown. you frown and move your thumb to stroke his cheekbone before he hangs his head and leans into you. his forehead pushes into your shoulder.

“i can’t do this anymore.”

his voice comes out quiet and whispered and broken against your skin, his hands resting over his sheets. he shakes against you, and then you realize he’s—

“i don’t know why im crying—i dont—i’m sorry—“

tears rush down his cheeks in the next moment, and he sniffles wetly before a stifled sob gets stuck in his throat and he wraps his arms around you pleadingly.

“it just… i can’t do it. it hurts letting you go—it hurts watching you leave,” he trembles.

you move to place one of your hands on the back of his blonde curls and the other over his upper back, before his lips brush your neck and he whispers warmly into you with the desperation of a million lovers combined

“please…

just don’t go tonight.”

[imawhoreforu]

perv!art thoughts…

it began the moment he saw you around campus for the first time; you’re one of tashi’s closest friends and roommate so he knows he’ll be spotting you more often. his heart is still sore from the loss of tashi’s number, so he figured you’d be a good temporary distraction, but the second you talk to him he knows that ‘temporary’ won’t be the case.

all interactions with you are somewhat fleeting; greeting exchanges and some small talk, but it hooks him in more and more. he starts cutting up pictures of you he finds from the school’s newspaper from the sports section you’re in and keeping them in a small box under his bed. in one instance, he’d taken a picture frame from your desk when he went over to lend tashi his phone charger when she lost her own — it was a picture of you with a friend back home at the beach. he studied the way that tiny bikini clung to your wet skin, the small arch in your back, and your sweet smile every night before bed.

he gets so unbelievably hard when his mind wanders to you — which is all the time. when patrick comes to visit tashi, the four of you gather in you and tashi’s dorm to hang out. he always sneaks off with one of your belongings, small enough that you thankfully don’t get too alarmed of — his recent acquisition had been one of your used athletic shorts. he knows he should’ve thought this through when he knocks on your door and you open wearing some of the tiniest jean shorts he’d ever seen.

“hi art!”

he snaps out of it and greets you with a flustered hey before making himself comfortable. patrick, tashi, art, and you sit on the floor sipping on cold beers from the mini fridge and making conversation. art keeps zoning out throughout the night — he stares at your bare legs and thighs. he stares between them more specifically, at the way the denim is tightening with every subtle move around your thighs, he wants to rip the fabric off and kiss the red marks left behind better. as if on cue, you start to speak.

“—i don’t know where all my shorts keep disappearing,” you giggle as you adjust the hem on the ones you’re wearing, “i think they have to add cameras in the laundry room, i haven’t worn this pair since high school — god.”

art gulps as tashi replies, “maybe it’s just you at this point, this is like the 20th time you’ve misplaced something.”

the night carries on, art chimes into the conversation every once in a while and he struggles to hide his boner in his pants. he feels himself twitch when you get up and bend over to retrieve another beer. his head turns fuzzy and he replies with a stiff nod when patrick asks if he’s good.

he needs to touch his dick soon, he knows he won’t last but it kills him to be this close to you without his hands on your skin. he muffles a whimper when you get on your hands and knees and reach across between patrick and tashi to change the radio station.

you’re almost flush against his chest, he sees the way your tank top lifts up and reveals your midriff and waist, the dip in your lower back when your back naturally arches. he casts his eyes lower and notices the way your tiny jean shorts slide down a bit and tease a hot pink lacy thong — this one must be new, he hasn’t seen it in your drawer before — and he feels sweat building at his temple.

“there,” you sit back down next to him again as a rock song comes on, “oh god i’m sorry art, i didn’t realize i was gonna be in your space like that.”

“it— it’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he needs to leave now, “i actually have practice early tomorrow, i’m gonna go to bed.”

he says his goodbyes and you offer to walk him out, when you hug him he hopes you didn’t feel his erection. he quickly runs to his room.

he locks the door before plopping on his bed and immediately strips down. he spits on his tip and groans when he remembers the way you pouted when he announced his departure. he grips himself nice and hard — he bets you’ll be even tighter. he strokes himself upwards, base to head, and watches as more cum oozes from his slit. he sighs out your name as his eyes flutter shut and goes back to the way your thighs were bulging out of your shorts earlier.

“mmm, fuck,” he searches around under his pillow until he feels the stretchy fabric — your missing garment. he brings the crotch to his nose while his other hand frantically fucks his throbbing cock. he’s whining into it, the smell of you slightly lingering is enough to have him panting and really, really fucking close.

in his state of delirium he barely recognizes that he’s started licking and lapping at them, “tastes so fucking good, oh god, nnghh —“ he reaches down to his balls and squeezes them, wheezing out your name yet again as he glances to his bedside table where the picture of you in your bikini rests. he cums instantly in ropes that paint his chest.

[imawhoreforu]

CHALLENGERS X BRAT BOT RELEASE !!! (9/14/24) ⌢⠀ 🎾 .ᐟ

tashi duncan ・゜゜・．360. art and patrick ・゜゜・．club classics. art and tashi ・゜゜・．sympathy is a knife.

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．i might say something stupid. art donaldson ・゜゜・．talk talk. patrick and tashi ・゜゜・．von dutch.

patrick zweig・゜゜・．everything is romantic. art donaldson ・゜゜・．rewind. tashi duncan ・゜゜・．girl, so confusing (fem!user).

tashi duncan ・゜゜・．apple. patrick zweig・゜゜・．b2b. tashi duncan ・゜゜・．mean girls (fem!user).

art donaldson ・゜゜・．i think about it all the time. patrick zweig ・゜゜・．365. art donaldson ・゜゜・．hello goodbye.

art and patrick ・゜゜・．guess. tashi duncan ・゜゜・．guess. wlw. art patrick and tashi ・゜゜・．spring breakers.

got a request? go ahead and leave em here :) FIRST THANK U FOR 3.3K!! AAH!! i feel like i've gone insane all (brat) summer because i've been hyperfixated on both challengers and brat at the same time (that's what i get for seeing the movie on june 7th and coming straight home and listening to the album... yikes!) it's actually ridiculous how i still listen to brat all the way thru at least once a day... and these damn tennis players have not left my mind. crazy behavior, truly. BUT ENJOY THESE SM!!! had way too much fun making them, thanks for feeding into my interests lol. (btw the club classics + tashi guess bot are older/were prexisting bots, but i included them just in case. also fyi!!!! i did not do "so i" out of respect for SOPHIE. i really miss her a lot.)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

[imawhoreforu]

blackfish | spencer reid

summary; being in the early stages of your relationship, spencer has yet to hear your passionate rambles, until you watch a documentary together and the topic of animals in captivity comes up.

warnings; fluff, so much fluff fem!reader, early seasons spencer, marine biology major!reader, start of relationship things, talking about animal abuse, animals in captivity, talks about orca’s and the documentary blackfish (i know the time line is unrealistic use ur imagination please)

an; self indulgent as a marine biology major and someone very passionate about the fact animals should not be used as apart of a circus act. Very very short, and sweet.

Your legs were resting over Spencer’s, the heels of your feet pressing against the side of the couch arm, while his hands massaged the skin of your calf gently, the credits to the documentary you had spent the last hour and a half watching together rolling over the tv. His hands were gentle and hesitate in every one of the movements, a little shy.

“Did you like it?” He asked, turning his head to look at you, thumb pressing against a tender muscle in your calf, the sensation causing a soft sigh of relaxation throughout your body, which contradicted the annoyance that had been filling you as the film went on.

You hummed, unsure of how to answer the question. “It was interesting.” You mumbled out, your head rolling to press against the back of the couch cushions. He smiled slightly as his hands continued to work out the tension in your legs.

“Yeah?” He hummed out. You nodded, interesting was a safe way to describe your feelings on the documentary you had watched. It wasn’t that it was bad, it wasn’t at all. And you had been interested, the entire time. Just the more the details were revealed the sicker the feeling got in your stomach.

He shuffled slightly, “What are you thinking about?” He asked, his hands pausing their massaging movements to instead rub gently over the smoothness of your skin. Obviously he had noticed the slightly sour look on your face and the way your mind seemed elsewhere.

“How horrible the human species are.” You answered honestly although you were aware Spencer was already aware of this fact. He worked to stop all the horrible things the human species did everyday. He witnessed it firsthand.

“Annoyed?” He asked. You nodded.

You shuffled slightly, pulling your legs away from where they had been resting over his thighs to sit up a little straighter, tucking your knees underneath you as your hands came to rest on your thighs.

“I don’t understand how anyone can look at animals in aquariums or even animal’s in zoo’s and think that it’s just.. okay?” You huffed out, annoyance lacing your tone as you spoke, every word coming out just as disgusted as the last. “i mean— These are wild animals and people act so shocked when they act like wild animals. Like that poor orca had been put through hell since the age of two— ripped away from his family and everything he knew, starved, beat up by other orca’s all for what? A quick buck?” You huffed out in frustration.

Spencer hadn’t expected the ramble but it definitely wasn’t unwelcome, your voice was laced with so much passion and intent, every word that left your lips showed how deeply you had thought about this. He had hummed in response, not wanting to interrupt.

“Marine mammals — they are isolated more in captivity than they aren’t which is absolutely insane since every aspect of their being is based on their social and emotional connections— I mean they have a whole part of the brain that human’s don’t have thats dedicated to their emotional bonds. Which means they feel everything probably double the amount that we do” You continued in frustration as your arms came to wrap around your stomach, and irritated pout on your lips.

Spencer raised his eyebrow but nodded, you were right. “They don’t belong in captivity” He agreed simply, you nodded passionately in response to what he had said. He couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face as you rambled, because this had never happened before. Normally you were pretty quiet, not in a way that you were shy or awkward, you just didn’t ramble a lot, not like he did. This was a nice change and he couldn’t help the way his heart swarmed at the sight of you getting all worked up over something you felt passionately for. He would listen to everything you had to say, and a million times more.

“It’s— so gross. Like it genuinely makes me feel sick how they take these animals away from their families and then exploit them for money. Like dolphins — Teach them tricks and then act like it’s just an extension of their natural behaviours — it’s not. You know marine mammals in captivity die way earlier than marine mammals in their natural habitats? Especially Orca’s. Orca’s could live up to 100 or even more and they hardly make it to 30 in captivity.” You huffed out.

“I didn’t know that” He did.

“And Orca’s— Oh my gosh. Each family speaks in their own set of vocalisations, no two families will communicate the same way. They literally have their own languages. And— and people want to throw Orca’s from different pods together in a pool and call them a family? They can’t even communicate with each other, or understand each other at all!! You know that can lead to aggression between Orca’s? Nearly half of Orca’s deaths in captivity is because of a different whale being too aggressive—“ You paused when you finally realised you were rambling.

Your cheeks burnt at the realisation, meeting Spencer’s eyes which were filled with nothing but love and admiration only furthered the burning sensation in your cheeks. “Sorry.” You huffed out sheepishly. “I got a bit carried away” you let out a laugh.

He shook his head instantly, his hand reaching out to rest gently against your knee, “No. Don’t apologise. Keep talking, what were you going to say?” He asked, almost desperately begging you to continue on with your passionate ramble, continued to further discover this side of you.

“I-“ you started but your brain short circuited at the look in his eye, pleading, sweet, gentle, loving, admiring. How could he look at you like that and expect you to be able to form a coherent sentence — you could hardly form a coherent thought. “I- forgot.” You huffed out.

He smiled widely, “Whales being too aggressive which can lead to that frustration being taken out on other whales, especially if they feel challenged or uncomfortable.” He finished for you, making your smile widen.

“You’re so smart” you huffed the compliment as if he wasn’t told it so often. He didn’t mind, it always meant more coming from you.

“Go on, angel. What else do you have for me?”

[imawhoreforu]

second best

★ patrick zweig x reader ★ you and patrick are both in relationships, but after meeting at an event, you can't quit each other. you both know it's wrong, but you just can't stop. you're addicted to each other, unable to go without your fix. ★ 10.2k ★ 18+ | cw: angst, cheating, smut: unprotected sex, choking, slapping, f oral ★ an: this one took me a while, hope u luv ! <3

it's not like you and patrick don't acknowledge you shouldn't be doing what you're doing, you do, often. but there's something about patrick zweig that just keeps drawing you back in. he feels the same, patrick may look like he has very few morals, but typically, cheating is something he'd never do. usually, when in a relationship, patrick's completely locked in. but there's something different about what you two share. yeah, it's sex, but it's more. it's primal, the attraction, the whole experience. there should be guilt, you should both feel so guilty that it doesn't continue, so sick to your stomachs that you can't fathom seeing each other again, but you don't. the relationship you share with patrick overshadows every other feeling you could endure. it's an automatic reaction, an addiction, something neither you or patrick could begin to live without anytime soon. it all started two months ago, you'd been with your boyfriend a year, patrick in his relationship nine months. you met at an adidas party a few years into patrick's career, during your second season in professional tennis. setting eyes on patrick across the dance floor, it was as though you could feel your body come alive.

red dress slick to your skin, hips swaying, hands in your hair as you locked eyes with patrick. signature smirk plastered on his face, beer in hand as he watched you dance. licking his lips as you excused yourself and headed his way. it was almost involuntary as your feet started moving, feeling yourself being physically drawn to him. "like what you see, huh?" hands on hips as you speak the first words to patrick. he chuckles slightly, eye contact unbroken. "something like that." patrick introduces himself as you do, flirty smiles across both of your faces. you didn't need to speak to understand each other, know exactly what the other was really thinking, it went unspoken. "do you want a drink?" patrick asks, free hand slipping into his pocket. nodding your head as patrick leads you to the bar, buying you your favourite and moving to occupy a couple empty seats away from the crowd. "just to let you know, i have a boyfriend." you start, met with a hum from patrick, leaning his elbows on his knees as you sit opposite him. "and i have a girlfriend, doesn't mean i can't talk to you, does it?" you both know this isn't going to end with talking, but for now, you'll ignore the tension in the air between you. telling yourselves that you're good people, and would never dream of cheating on your partners.

the two of you sit for a while, discussing your tennis careers, how you got into the sport. flirty smirks and heavy eye contact filling the empty gaps, noticing the time and lack of bodies at the party, you stand, ready to say your goodbyes, but stopped by patrick. "we're at the same hotel, right? come have a nightcap with me." he offers, standing up with you, closing some distance. "that sounds like playing with fire." you half laugh, acknowledging the tension for the first time out loud tonight, only adding more excitement to the air. patrick raises his eyebrow to you, the corner of his lips turning upwards. breathing out, knowing there was no saying no to that damn smirk, you accept. patrick's hand pressed lightly to your back, leading you away from the party. it was only a short walk back to your hotel, his hand staying put against the fabric of your dress. both of you so aware this nightcap was nothing short of an excuse for more time together, specifically, time alone away from onlookers eyes. patrick's hand only dropping to his side to fish his hotel key from his pocket, showing you into his room. opening the mini fridge he pours you both a drink, sitting next to each other on the couch underneath the hotel room windows, his hand draped across the back, beside your shoulder.

facing each other slightly, the electricity in the air only becoming more obvious by the lack of space between your bodies. shoes kicked off feet beside the couch, holding the glass between your hands as patrick's eyes swallow yours. "stop looking at me like that." you laugh, feeling small under his gaze. "like what?" patrick questions, knowing exactly where this about to lead. what should be guilt filling his body is replaced by pure lust. bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes float over your body, only now realising how small your dress is on your body. collarbones fully exposed, the fabric hitching up your thigh due to how you're sat on the couch. "like a meal. you look like you wanna eat me." his breath hitches, eyes moving back up your body to your eyes. holding your gaze, he places his glass down the coffee table next to him. following his movements, you do the same, leaning in towards him. "well, maybe i do want to taste you." patrick admits, his body moving towards you, eyes growing darker as the admission leaves his lips. the slow, gradual movements you're making towards each other feel like miles you have to travel. every second of inching closer feels like hours. every thought leaves your brain as patrick's hands grasp your cheeks and pull your lips onto his. mouths open, tongues sliding over each other, desperate to discover every part of each other's mouths.

patrick kisses feel like you're finally being kissed properly, as though no one before him had ever known how. his lips are soft, tongue hard against yours. his hands moving to your waist, pulling your body onto his lap. straddling his hips as your arms wrap around his neck, hopelessly trying to taste more of him. moving your lips down his jaw, licking and sucking at his skin down to his neck. "my god, you're so hot." patrick mumbles, head falling back, eyes fluttering closed as you nibble at the skin below his earlobe. pushing your head back to face him, eyes locked on each other, breathing heavy as his lips push against yours again. his hips bucking up against you, the harsh fabric of his jeans rubbing against the lace of your underwear. "we shouldn't.." you start, words falling into his mouth, lips barely leaving each others. patrick knows exactly what you mean, knows you want to help your ego, feel like you at least tried to not fuck him. "hmm, i don't care," patrick mumbles, his hands caressing every inch of your curves as yours move to bunch in his curls. trying desperately to pull yourself off of him but your body not allowing it, you're sucked in. he's like a drug, one taste and you're hooked. pushing yourself backwards from his lips, half-lidded eyes looking down to him, his hands holding you in place as you part your lips and whisper. "i want you."

his hands hook under your thighs, lifting you up as if you weigh nothing, legs instinctively wrapping around his body as patrick walks you both over to the bed. dropping you down, standing over you at the end of the bed. propping yourself onto your elbows, looking up patrick through your lashes, watching him pull his t-shirt over his head. "take it off." patrick instructs, unbuttoning his jeans, pulling down his zipper, his body overcome with desire. lifting your dress up your body from the hem, shimmying the fabric up over your chest, slipping it over your head as it's flung off the bed. laid before him as his jeans drop to the floor, matching red lace underwear adorn your skin. patrick's mouth slightly agape, still stood before you, taking in every inch of you. readjusting the tent in his boxers as he smirks down to you. "you gonna stand there staring all night, patrick? or are you gonna actually fuck me?" patrick groans at your words, hearing you verbally admit what you want from him. crawling over your body, your knees bent squeezing him into place, his hands at either side of your head. grinding himself down against you, legs spread waiting for him. leaning his head down to yours, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down as your eyes roll back.

moving one of his hands to your chest, holding himself up with one arm as the other gropes your boobs. pulling them out from your bra as you push the straps down your arms. grabbing your waist as patrick flips the two of you over, sitting you up on his lap as he undoes your bra, letting it fall down your arms before throwing it in the direction of your dress. knees either side of his hips, grinding against him, the friction causing quiet noises from the both of you. patrick's mouth moving down to wrap around your nipple, hands caressing both of your boobs. manhandling your chest as his teeth graze the skin of your nipple, hissing at the sensation. shoulders pushing back as your head falls with them, patrick's lips attacking your neck as he continues squeezing your breasts. surprising patrick as your hands wrap around his wrists, pushing him down against the bed, his arms above his head. grinding your hips down against him quicker, patrick struggling below you, attempting to escape from your grip but failing. bucking his hips up against you, desperate for some friction on his aching cock. "hmm, getting needy?" you fake pout, patrick sucking his teeth in response. his cock twitching against you, so unfamiliar with the competition for dominance. feeling you start to rearrange your grip around his wrists, he slips from your grasp, throwing you onto your back once more. pushing his boxers down his legs, hands snaking between your bodies to pull your panties down too. reaching down to slip his fingers into you, as his other hand pins both your wrists above your head. smirking down to you as his digits push in and out of your cunt, his thumb circling your clit. your back arched as moans escape you, moving your wrists in attempt to loosen his grip, but failing as he pushes your arms further into the mattress. "stop struggling."

the both of you had never been so desperate for something in your lives. both never felt so overcome with lust and desire, bodies in need of each other. the tension building becoming unbearable, the room filling with heavy breathing and moans. slipping his fingers out from you, wrapping his hand around his member. freeing you from his grip as he lifts your leg onto his shoulder, lining himself up with your entrance. eyes staring into each others, keeping you there for a minute, his cock teasing you as the suspense builds between you. "patrick, fuckin-" you start, words cut off as his thick cock pushes all the way inside you. lifting your other leg onto his shoulder now, fingers digging into your thighs as he wastes no time pounding in and out of you. screams of pleasure from you met with a smirk on patrick's mouth. "you were saying?" patrick teases, his lips kissing down your ankle. holding back your moans through gritted teeth, the sheets balled in your fists, patrick's dick hitting your g-spot with every thrust. your ass lifted from the mattress as patrick's speed increases. fucking you deeper than you've ever felt, seeing a bulge on your stomach every time he thrusts into you. he's hitting places inside your walls you've never experienced, eyes in the back of your head as your moans mix together as one. skin slaps echoing in the room, fingers moving to grasp patrick's thighs, nails digging into the skin. biting your lip through a smirk as you look up to the brunette. "hit me."

"god, you're dirty." patrick mumbles through moans, the request making his cock twitch inside you. dropping your legs down from his shoulders, pounding into you harder as his open hand smacks against the skin of your cheek. the sound that escapes you is sinful, patrick's hand wrapping around your throat. "agai-" you start, cut off by another slap across your face. his body falling onto yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. his hand still around your throat, the other gripping the skin on your hip. teeth nibbling on your earlobe, every sound he makes falling into your ear. fingers scratching down the skin of his spine, sharp nails drawing blood from his back, only to be met by groans from patrick. "jesus christ, where have you been all my life?" he mumbles, thrusts getting sloppy. moving his hand from your hip to reach between your sweaty bodies to circle your clit. feeling you become undone underneath his body, legs jolting as your ankles tighten around him. his hand gripping your throat tighter as he feels you cum over his cock. circling you through your high before slipping his fingers from your skin. hands either side of your shoulders, pushing himself up as his hips slap against yours. "i'm on the pill," you start, struggling to speak through the sensations. "cum inside me, patrick, please."

his cock slaps against your g-spot once more as he paints your walls white, cursing his way through his orgasm. collapsing against you as his dick slips out from inside of you. the sweat from your bodies sticking the two of you together as you both come back down to earth, calming your breathing and dropping your legs down from around his body. peppering the side of your face in kisses before moving to the side of you on the bed. staring at the ceiling in silence for a few minutes as you both recover. breaking the silence once your breathing as returned to a normal pace. "we can't do that again." patrick scoffs, brown curls sticking to his skin. "we're doing that again as soon as physically possible." his head turning to look at you, following suit and looking into his half-lidded eyes. "that was the best sex of my life. i'm not giving that up anytime soon." patrick half laughs, making you giggle and shake your head. "you're gonna get me in so much trouble, zweig." patrick moves to bite down on your earlobe. "i think you're already in trouble."

you and patrick are playing most of the same tournaments on tour, meaning even if you wanted to avoid him and let the guilt wash over you, you couldn't. wanting to avoid him very quickly turns into falling into his bed every night you can. any idea of guilt or remorse is lost the second that smirk appears on his lips and the number of his room is text to you during the first day of the tournament. patrick fucks you like no other, both of you obsessed with the others touch. the others ability to turn each other on with just a look, just a thought. all patrick has to do is let his mind wander and all he can hear is 'hit me' and he's hard during practise. and that's the other issue, the lines are getting thinner. you've started helping each other with your games' during off days, playing practise matches together and hitting up bars after. what two months ago was a mindless fuck one night, has turned into hours of conversations and time spent together. lucky for you both, there hasn't been any major tournament's on the tour yet, ones that family and friends would request to attend. so you haven't had to worry about anyone you know noticing the amount of time you spend in each others pockets. other athlete's have of course noticed, but most are none the wiser or simply don't care. you're both becoming more needy for each other, more desperate for touch when you should resist. patrick making excuses, criticising your backhand to be able to jog across the court and touch the skin of your body to help your game. the addiction to each other growing stronger, harder to ignore and act like you're not doing anything wrong. it's easier to rationalise if it's said to be just sex, lying to yourself that you're lonely and horny on tour, needing someone to scratch the itch while your partner is far, far away from you. that would be easy, if it was just sex.

laying together, bodies tangled together as some old tv show plays from the screen in the hotel you're currently in. clothes spread across the floor, both naked as you lay together, patrick drawing circles on your shoulder, cigarette in the corner of his mouth. "you've improved a lot since the start of tour." patrick compliments, flicking the ash into the empty can on the nightstand. you have, every free minute you have you spend either on the courts or in patrick's bed. it's hard to be distracted by loneliness on tour if you're not lonely. "thanks, maybe it's because you're helping me." you half laugh, stealing the cigarette from him, inhaling and placing it back between his lips. patrick laughs lightly at your answer, he's gotten better too. he knows if there's free time you'll be on the courts, so naturally goes too. the stillness in the room is interrupted by your phone ringing, a picture of your boyfriend lighting the screen. "fuck." you mumble, escaping from patrick's grasp. rushing around the room, picking up a t-shirt from the floor and brushing down your hair. sitting in the corner of the room on an armchair, you answer the facetime call. "hey baby." you can see patrick roll his eyes as he puts the cigarette out in the can, slipping his boxers back onto his body. "yeah, final tomorrow, feeling good. how's home?" patrick watches you from the edge of the bed, seeing you bring your knees up to your chest, brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt you've slipped on. his eyes darken as he notices your exposed cunt, clearly not having had time to put your panties back on. his eyes grow dark, a devilish idea taking over his brain.

he can barely concentrate on what you're saying, not that he cares what lies you're telling your boyfriend, just curious. "i know, i wish you were here too." okay, that one slipped through. a quiet scoff leaves his lips. leaning down from the bed, falling onto all fours as patrick starts crawling across the floor over to you. your eyes darting to him and that signature smirk across his face, hiding any reaction from slipping through facetime. "yeah, us open in a couple weeks so i'll be able to see you then." you smile, trying to ignore patrick on his route to you. kneeling before you, his hands spreading your ankles, your elbows resting on your knees as you hold your phone. muting the call quickly and whispering down to patrick. "don't you dare." what was meant to deter him only spurs him on. unmuting the call before your boyfriend noticing, him still explaining his excitement for the tournament. legs spread open before patrick's face, his tongue licking a line up through your folds. gritting your teeth as you desperately attempt to focus on the call, trying to push patrick's head away, with no success. covering your reaction to patrick's mouth wrapping around your clit with a cough, breathing deeply through your nose. "yeah, i've already got your tickets all worked out, don't worry." your words come out stuttered, you can feel the smile from patrick against your cunt. licking and lapping you up, one hand grasping the hairs at his scalp.

a slight moan escapes you, trying to cover with another cough, met with questions from your boyfriend. "yeah, sorry, i'm fine, just a tickle in my throat." you lie as two of patrick's fingers insert themselves into you, breath hitching at the sensation. "so yeah, the driver will pick you up from the airport and i'll meet you at the hotel when you arrive." you attempt to continue conversation, the feeling in your stomach growing stronger as patrick's tongue draws shapes over your clit, wetness dripping down his chin. feeling his hot breath on your cunt, faint sounds of his fingers thrusting into you. "baby, i gotta go, got practise in half an hour, i'll call you tomorrow." you rush out your words, not letting him say bye before hanging up and throwing your phone down. head flinging back as loud moans leave you, both hands moving to patrick's curls now. "jesus, patrick, you're gonna kill me." you hear him laugh against you, the vibrations flowing through you as he does. he sloppily makes out with your wetness, finally letting the moans fall into the room, making his fingers move faster. his curls tickling your thighs as they clench around his head, bucking your hips up, grinding your clit against his nose. eyes rolling into the back of your head as your orgasm sends shock waves through your body, holding his head in place as you ride it out. loosening him from your grip as you stop seeing stars.

"patrick-" you start, his chin dripping in drool and sticky from your wetness, about to tell him off. "you fucking love it." he cuts you off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. shaking your head as patrick pushes onto the armchair you're sat on, moving your body onto his lap, his arm around your waist. "plus, it was very fucking hot." he mumbles as his lips crash onto yours, pulling you as close to his body as possible. "you're gonna get us caught one of these days." you regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, you and patrick never discussed the idea of admitting what you were doing, not like he hadn't just gone down on you while on the phone to your boyfriend. but admitting you could get caught meant admitting one day it would have to stop, that you'd have to accept that it was wrong and immoral and totally against your values. that you were hurting people that you cared about for the sake of your own pleasure. "so fucking what?" patrick's response surprised you, his hand wrapping around your throat as he pulled your face back down onto his lips. you were scared of getting caught, petrified, you assumed patrick was too. you both cared deeply about your relationships despite the fact you were cheating, so patrick's answer threw you off guard slightly. pushing the thought to the back of your head as your body was lifted to the air and thrown against the bed, giggling as patrick pulled you to the edge of the bed, slipping off his boxers as he flips you onto your stomach. so fuck drunk from patrick's cock that you thought yeah, so what if you got caught, so fucking what?

things carry on the same way up to the us open, both you and patrick looking like strong contenders on your sides of the competition. both dreading the change in dynamic between you once partners arrive to support you during the two weeks of the tournament. sitting on the side of the courts, both breathless after the practise you'd done. "when does he arrive?" patrick asks, chugging down the most part of his water bottle. "three hours, you?" you return, sweat dropping from your skin. "four. we still have the hotel rooms we get assigned, you know?" patrick smirks to you, throwing a tennis ball back and forth in his hands. you were both planning on staying with your partners, in their hotels separate from the tournament. all players are put up in a hotel together during any stops on the tour, you and patrick had stayed there the night previous before both partners arrived today. "patrick, that really is playing with fire." packing away your things, standing up to collect stray tennis balls about the court as patrick begins to help. "we could just say we have commitments, press, practise, whatever." he shrugs, unwilling to accept he'll have to go two weeks without touching you. "we can still see each other, for lunch and things like that." you suggest, putting the balls into the crate, tidying it off to the side with your things. "not the same." he mumbles, sulking as he too puts his rackets back into their bag. "oh boohoo, we knew this would happen." slinging your bags onto shoulders, patrick grabbing the crate of balls and heading inside. "quickie before they arrive then?" you laugh as he follows you down the hall. "please?"

you'd become more open talking about partners, not experiences or what they were like, but in relation to your own relationship with patrick. you'd stopped pretending they didn't exist, more accepting of the fact you and patrick were sneaking around behind their backs. especially with knowing they'd be so close to each other, and to the two of you, aware of the fact you could cross paths with patrick's girlfriend or vice versa. after cleaning up in patrick's hotel room, patrick showering with you before you darted off to your partners hotel, meeting him in the lobby. swept up into affection and care by him, brushing off the idea of sex with an 'i'm tired'. the two of you catching up about your time apart while getting ready for the party held at the start of the tournament, being held at the players' hotel. introducing your partner to some of the female athletes you'd met and played against during the tour, sharing drinks and nibbling on the snacks brought around. his arm snaked around your waist as you mingled through the party, holding in the uncomfortable way his hands made you feel. standing around a table with him and a few other players and their families, spotting those familiar curls bouncing into the big hall. girl to his side, not touching her, her big eyes looking up to him as they entered. his eyes immediately finding yours as he can't hold back the smile forming on his lips.

walking towards you, drink in hand as the two of them slot into your group. stunned at his openness, swallowing down the frog in your throat as patrick says his hellos. "aren't you going to introduce me?" he taunts you, elbowing your side as he slots in next to you, his girlfriend to his left. extending his hand to your boyfriend, you calm yourself and introduce the two of them. "this is patrick zweig, he's been help-" you start to explain a reason for his need for introduction. "we've been helping each other, during the tour." you wish you could slap the smirk off of his face, your boyfriend none the wiser smiles and shakes his hand. "aren't you going to introduce me then, too?" you poke back, moving your head to look to his girlfriend, sweet smile disguising your true feelings. patrick introduces the two of you, further explaining your relationship, for reasons you wish he wouldn't. "yeah as i said, we've been helping each other a lot. she's made me a much better player." your fakeness dissipates, a true smile on your face at patrick's kindness. "me too." you return, the others in your group disbanding, leaving the four of you alone. "sounds like you've gotten close then." your oh so naive boyfriend smiles, arm still resting on the small of your back. "yeah, we definitely have." patrick smiles into his drink, throat bobbing as he finishes the drink. "if you'll excuse us, i owe this one a drink for thrashing me today." patrick smiles, leading you to the bar away from your partners', his hand replacing your boyfriends'.

"getting me alone already? you only saw me six hours ago." you laugh, met with a side eye from patrick as he leans onto the bar, ordering you both a drink. "i don't know how i'm gonna go two weeks like this." he admits. "did you have sex with him?" patrick leans down, whispering the question to you. you simply shake your head in response, receiving your drink from the bartender. "did you?" you find it harder to ask than you should. "nah, why would i when i have you?" patrick winks to you as he walks back over to your partners, guiding his girlfriend over to a table to sit. collecting yourself you walk back over to your boyfriend. "he seems nice." he starts. "did you give him that t-shirt?" he asks you, looking over to patrick, following his gaze you look to his outfit before turning back to your boyfriend, brows furrowed at the question. "you were wearing it on facetime the other week. you must shop at the same places!" he laughs, sipping his drink, turning away as the blush creeps up your cheeks, suddenly very grateful for your very naive boyfriend.

spending the night sharing secret glances at patrick, him doing the same every chance he gets. the night starting to draw to a close, witnessing patrick hug his girlfriend at the door. expecting them to leave, but only she does, patrick locking eyes with you from the exit. signalling his head upwards, towards the rooms upstairs in the hotel. shaking your head to him, lips upturned, patrick just nodding in response before darting off. hearing your phone ping from your purse, hiding the screen from your partner, who's too engaged in conversation to even notice.

patrick: come on, u know u want to ;)

that boy will be the death of you, you think. unable to go more than half a day without touching you, breathing deeply, thinking how you're going to go two weeks like this, hiding and risking getting caught for half an hour of each others time.

patrick: i need youuu

patrick's text chimes through again, rolling your eyes to the phone. interrupting your partner's conversation explaining you need to pack up the things you left in your room ready for press tomorrow, that you'll meet him back at his hotel later. "sure babe." his lips press against your cheek, a pinch of guilt under your skin, lying to his face like this. the remorse was a lot easier to ignore when he wasn't around. chewing the inside of your cheek as you enter the elevator up to patrick's floor, any idea of wrongdoing washing away as the tension builds up in your body. knocking lightly on his door, it opening within seconds of the sound. patrick's smile welcomes you in, pulling you into his arms the second the door is closed. "i missed you." he whispers into your skin, wet kisses placed all over your face. "you literally just saw me." you laugh into his frame, arms around his neck. "but i couldn't touch you." patrick pouts, wasting no time placing your lips against his. his big hands grabbing at your back, claiming the skin as his. walking your bodies to the edge of the bed, sitting together, lips not parting from each others for even a second. hands roaming each other, pulling and squeezing at fabric and skin. breathing each other in as your head feels light, getting your fix of your addiction.

"we don't have long, patrick." you mumble into his mouth, fiddling with the curls on his head. "that's okay, i just wanted to kiss you." you swear your heart stops beating for a second. he didn't even want sex, just a kiss from you. so needy for you that going half a day without a kiss would have been too much for him. you can feel the lines of the relationship thinning even more, trying to rationalise the cheating as just sex. it would be too wrong if you and patrick caught feelings for each other, it would cross the boundaries of culpability. you just liked spending time together, sleeping together, playing tennis together. there were no feelings involved, or at least admitted by either of you anyway. but hearing patrick tell you he orchestrated this current situation, sneaking away from your partners during a party, just to kiss you, made goosebumps form on your arms. melting into him further as his mouth swallowed yours. pulling away from his face, placing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "are you going soft on me, zweig?" you joke, arms still wrapped around each other. "oh sorry for wanting a kiss." he teases back, letting himself be slightly vulnerable with you. he would have been happy just sat holding your hand in this hotel room, anything to be close to you. patrick feels a specific calmness when in your company, a sensation that takes over him whenever you're close. he craves it, any time he's away from your skin.

patrick was more open with himself about his feelings in regards to your relationship, he knew that lines had already been crossed and there was no going back, for him anyway. he also knew you hadn't registered that idea yet, knew you were still refusing to accept that this was anything more than sex. you didn't act like that's all it was to you, but it's what helped you sleep at night. patrick often thought about breaking up with his girlfriend, he hadn't been with her too long before you anyway. patrick was more scared of the rejection he could face from you than breaking up with her. he knew if he were to leave her, it would be for you, and he couldn't handle the idea of you telling him no. telling him you wouldn't leave your boyfriend, for so now, he kept things the same, thinking he'd rather have you in some way than not at all. to you, ending your relationship wasn't an option, not yet anyway. you could handle being alone, waiting for patrick, but leaving your partner would make things messy. mean accepting the truth and having to admit to someone outside of you and patrick. it would mean accepting your wrongdoings and taking blame, making what you and patrick were doing wrong, and part of you could never view your relationship with patrick as wrong. he was like no other, made you feel like no other, and that feeling in your chest could never been told as wrong.

kissing patrick once more, near enough empty duffle bag hanging from your shoulder as you left the hotel with him, heading in separate directions to your partners hotels. your boyfriend in bed asleep by the time you enter, changing into an oversized t-shirt, patrick's of course, not that you noticed it was his. facing away from your partner, face buried into your phone, staying up late texting patrick all through the night.

patrick: can't sleep without u next to me anymore

your lip is constantly between your teeth, chewing at the softness, spinning your head around checking on your sleeping boyfriend periodically. you and patrick shared a bed most nights during tour, in either of your hotel rooms, falling asleep in each others arms, drifting off to the sound of calm breathing.

you: ur gonna have dark circles for press tomorrow, go to sleep!!

patrick holds back a chuckle, phone not leaving his head, his only way to feel close to you. knowing your on the other side of the screen, typing back to him as quick as he is you.

patrick: so are you, goodnight gorgeous

sending back your own goodnight message, finally locking your phone, tossing and turning your way to sleep.

getting dressed after breakfast with your boyfriend, white dress skort and matching tank slick to your skin, packing your bags before ubering to the venue. "i would have picked you up." you hear from patrick as you close the door to your uber, slinging your bags over your shoulders as he locks his car. "and that would have been really subtle, wouldn't it?" you laugh, leading you both into the venue. "that's why i made a point of telling our partners how well we get on, stupid." he teases you, jabbing his elbow into your side, met with an eye roll from you. "so we can still spend time together without any questions." you respond, realising patrick's reason for the introductions last night. "duh. i'll drive you back later." his words are more instructions than an offering, the two of you dropping off your things in the locker rooms. putting another layer of powder on your face, patrick leaving a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder. batting him away, grateful for the empty room. the two of you ready yourselves for press, walking over to the media rooms where multiple promotion screens are placed around the room. patrick is pulled into an interview, standing to the left of him as you await your turn. "you've definitely improved this season, patrick, why do you think that is? any new members to your team?" you hear patrick's interviewer ask him and you get mic'ed up by a member of the press. his gaze lands on you before quickly returning to the interviewer, camera blinking as he answers the question. "no new members no, i've been practising a lot with someone new though, it must be helping." patrick's arms folded on his chest, signature smirk down the camera as the interviewer pushes for more, hearing your name leave patrick's lips. "we've been playing in all the same tournaments, so we've been spending a lot of time together." this interviewers eyes move to you, hopeful to bring you into frame, getting a new scoop for his sports channel.

"come on," patrick states, pulling you over to his interview. cheeks slightly flushed as he does. "we had noticed your improvement too," the interviewer starts, stating your name before continuing. "is that also due to your time with patrick?" considering your answer carefully before responding. "yeah, patrick's been great, it's like having a second coach while we play." you laugh, a chuckle from patrick too. "i'm really grateful for sure." smiling over to patrick, holding his gaze for slightly too long before returning to the camera. "so i assume you're both rooting for each other during this tournament?" the interviewer continues, reshuffling his notes, the two of you nodding immediately. "definitely, i go to all of her matches that i can and she's always at mine." the interviewer asks a few more questions before thanking patrick and carrying on with your individual interview. wrapping up and returning the mic, you and patrick head for lunch in the players food hall. "i can't believe you." you laugh, stabbing your food onto your fork and bringing it to your mouth. patrick's ankle leaning against yours under the table. "what? he asked me a question so i told the truth, you are the reason i've improved." patrick mumbles through full mouth, shaking your head at him, his leg rubbing against yours. "you're making it so obvious though." you return, patrick shrugging as he sips on his gatorade. "can men and women not be friends?" he jokes. "so we're friends are we?"

patrick laughs as he cuts up his food. "you're my best friend, among other things." you so badly want to press, ask him for specifics, know how he views you and your relationship. but you don't, very aware of the amount of bodies around you, you drop the subject. finishing up your food, the two of you head back to the dressing room, readying yourselves to leave for the day. "i just wanna have a shower and get changed." you smile, pulling a towel and spare clothes from your bag, walking over to the private shower cubicle. placing your towel and clothes on the hook, undressing and slipping under the water. sighing as the warm water drips down your skin. washing the soap down the drain as you stand there still for a short while, before the handle of the cubicle moves and patrick closes the door behind you. "patrick, i swear." you laugh quietly, watching him remove his own clothes and place them on the hook. joining you under the water as his hands wrap around your waist. "what? i can leave if you really want." patrick mumbles into your neck as the water falls over you both. melting into his grip as you pull him down to your lips. reaching between you both to stroke his exposed cock, already hard at the sight of you. quiet groans fall into your mouth as you pump him between your bodies.

in one movement, patrick spins you round, your chest pushed against the cold tiles. hands up against the wall beside your head, ass pushed out towards him. patrick kicks your ankles open, hitting his dick against you before sliding in. his hand moving around you, wrapping around your mouth to hold in your moans. his free hand gripping your hip as he pounds into your cunt, your head falling back onto his shoulder. your bodies sliding together with ease from the warm water covering you both. "you're so fucking perfect, baby, my god." patrick mutters into your ear, not caring about the sound of his hips hitting against your ass as he slips in and out of you. peppering the side of your face and neck in wet kisses, lightly biting at the skin on your earlobe. the publicness and ability to get caught only spurring you both on, the band in your stomach being stretched further with every thrust of his cock inside your walls. "patrick, fuck- m'gonna cum." you mumble through his fingers. "show, don't tell." patrick instructs, hand slipping from your mouth to your throat. tightening his grip on the sides as he feels you clench around his cock. drawing blood from your bottom lip as you attempt to hold in the sounds forming in your throat. patrick's grip moving to your waist, holding you up as your body jolts around him. "good girl."

patrick pounds into you harder, pulling your ass backwards to meet him in the middle of every thrust. his short nails digging into the skin of your hips as he pushes into you once more, filling you up with his cum as his head falls onto your shoulder. holding himself inside of you as the two of you calm your breathing together. whining at the emptiness once he slips out of you, the water washing away any remaining proof of sex as patrick turns you around, holding you in his arms. "you've ruined sex for me forever, no one will ever compare." patrick laughs lightly to you, foreheads pressed against each other. "maybe you'll just have to keep having sex with me forever then." something you'd never say if you weren't coming down from your fuck high, a genuine smile forms on patrick's face at your words. "sounds good to me." turning off the shower as you both dry yourself on your towel, getting dressed and letting patrick leave the cubicle first, following after a few minutes later. the two of you grabbing your things and heading over to his car, starting the drive back to your hotel. "how's it going, with him?" patrick asks, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. chewing the inside of your lip as you respond. "it's fine, he's clearly missed me as he's all over me," patrick sharply inhales at the idea of someone else touching your skin, kissing your lips, trying to downplay his reaction as he keeps driving. "but it's draining, very grateful for all the press and parties and practise to distract me." you continue, placing your hand over the top of his on your leg, wrapping your fingers around his. "what about you, with her?"

"luckily she knows a lot of people here, so she's got plans all the time that don't include me. but i just miss you most of the time." patrick squeezes your thigh. hiding your smile from him, hiding any form of admission of feelings slipping through. lifting his hand up to your lips, placing a soft kiss to his palm. leaning your face into his hand as he looks over to you during a red light. "i miss you too." your cheeks are flushed slightly, placing his hand back down on your thigh. "are we terrible people?" you laugh, readjusting to sit cross legged on the passenger seat, his hand still resting on your inner thigh. "maybe, but you know, you can't help how you feel." patrick states, looking to the road as he drives down the street. how you feel. the words linger in your mind, wanting to assume he means how he feels about sleeping with you, knowing neither of you can resist each other. but his words trigger something within you, you finally realise. sitting here in his car, caressing each others skin so carelessly, so naturally, you realise that have feelings for patrick. you like the way he smells after a tennis match, how he always has to be touching your skin, how he looks at you. your breathing increasing in pace, looking over to him as your mind keeps running. you love the way he says your name, how he always brings you a glass of water when you're thirsty, how he ties your shoelaces for you when they come undone. mouth slightly agape, wondering if he too feels the same.

the guilt washes over you when you leave patrick's car, arriving at your hotel. after two months of patrick and no remorse, it all hits you now. it was easier to ignore when it was just sex, but on one random car journey, it hits you like a ton of bricks. you've caught feelings for patrick zweig. heading to the hotel bar, ordering a drink and sitting alone on a table by the window, collecting your thoughts. fiddling with your lower lip, deep in thought, feeling the cut on your skin. shit. you drew blood holding in your noises in the shower, and now have to develop a lie to tell your boyfriend. shaking your head at yourself, truly now feeling like a terrible person. it's only now that you consider the fact that you'll of course have to break up with him. how could you possibly look at him the same knowing he'll never be patrick? he'll never make your heart skip a beat with just a smirk, never touch you like him, never make you feel like patrick does. the guilt almost consumes you, hoping the alcohol will numb some of the pain. snapping out of your obsessive thoughts to the sound of your phone pinging.

patrick: already can't wait to see u tomorrow

eyes fluttering closed, a sea of butterflies filling up your stomach at the words on your screen from patrick. how could you not see it? how could you not realise you were falling for him, knowing he was your first thought every morning and the last at every night.

you: me too baby <3

you text each other like lovers, as though if anyone could read your messages or see the way you are alone together, they'd assume you were deeply in love. finishing your drink, you start the dreaded walk up to your shared hotel room. unlocking the door, your boyfriend sat on the couch watching tv. seeing his teethy grin spread across his face as you walk into the room. more guilt. it's like your body is punishing you for all the days you didn't feel any remorse, you're feeling it all built up now. every inch of your body filled with the feeling. you're so angry at yourself, for one, letting it go this far with patrick without seeing the signs, but two, not accepting the fact that what you were doing was wrong. so wrong, so unforgivable, you were hurting someone so deeply and never even giving it a second thought. and the worst part about it was that you knew full well, you'd be all over patrick the second you got him alone tomorrow.

things stayed the same until the day before the quarter finals, both you and patrick advancing to that stage. seeing each other every chance you could before going home to your partners and acting like everything was fine. you had a day off before the quarter final, getting in some practise with your coach in the morning before spending the rest of the day off. entering your hotel room, showering and slipping into a hoodie and shorts. joining your boyfriend on the couch, turning off the tv and sitting to face him, him doing the same. "i need to talk to you about something." you knew it was time, your feelings had been eating you up. you'd barely been eating or sleeping, too focused on the guilt of the taste of patrick lingering on your mouth as you kissed your boyfriend goodnight. "okay." he smiles to you, still none the wiser. "i'm breaking up with you." you finally let out the words, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie, just about able to look him in the eyes. watching his body slump slowly, his eyes glossing over. "why?" he asks you, his words shaky but calm, not shouting or arguing, just wanting to know the reasons why. "i have feelings for someone else, it's nothing you did, it just happened. i'm so sorry." your bottom lip is between your teeth, so ashamed to be admitting the truth, but part of you grateful, the guilt finally dissipating. "who?" he returns, through gritted teeth. "are you sure you want to know?" you ask, hoping he wouldn't. he simply nods his head, feeling you owe him the answers to any of his questions, you tell him. he scoffs as he hears patrick's name fall from your lips. "god, i'm so naive. have you fucked him?" his sudden harshness takes you back, pulling your knees up to your chest, your eyes now glossing over, nodding your head. "wow." is all that comes back to you.

the two of you sit in silence for a short while, before he finally stands. "well, i'm sorry too, that i couldn't be what you wanted. does his girlfriend know?" he asks, pacing around the room. "i don't know, i don't think so." you respond, standing now too. "christ, how many people did you need to hurt?" his words cut you like a knife, immediately starting to pack up the things of yours in the room. "i'm gonna go, i'm so sorry, i never meant to hurt anyone." he half scoffs at your words, opening the door for you as you bunch your belongings under your arms, walking out the door. both of you saying final goodbyes and leaving each other for the last time. dragging all your bags into your uber, you rush to the hotel the players are assigned to. tears finally falling from your eyes once you enter the room. letting yourself feel every feeling you've held in for the past few weeks, losing yourself to emotion as they all come pouring out of you.

cleaning yourself up after a few hours, texting patrick and asking him to come to your hotel. he shows up half an hour later, knocking on your door. pulling him into the room, pulling his lips to yours as the two of you fall onto the bed. pulling himself from you as the two of you sit on the edge of the bed. "what's wrong? you look like you've been crying." he asks, placing a soft kiss to your temple. "i broke up with him." patrick's mouth falls open slightly in reaction. his mind running quicker than he can keep up with. not able to focus on one particular thought, he rushes out his words. "why did you do that?" he's harsher than he would have liked, not being able to focus hard enough to properly form sentences he would rather say. shocked you move slightly further away from his grip. "you, patrick. you're why." neither of you had ever admitted any feelings to each other, you'd barely admitted them to yourselves, let alone sharing them. but those words leaving your lips were all the admission patrick needed. he was very aware he felt the same, but he also knew that it would be too good to be true. patrick was prone to self-sabotage, he did it to protect himself from getting hurt in the long run. "i never asked you to do that." it's almost involuntary the harsh tone in which he's speaking, deep down he wants nothing more than to kiss you and run home to break off his own relationship to be with you. but his mind is singlehandedly running his ability to consider that an actual option in this scenario.

"i know you didn't." nearly matching his tone as you try to distract yourself from the tears welling up in your eyes. "i just thought.." trailing off as your words soften. "you thought what? that we'd dump our partners and run off into the sunset?" you can't believe the words coming from him, never has he been so harsh to you, so cold. "no i just, i thought you liked me." your eyes unable to look at him anymore, a single tear dropping onto the mattress from your eyes. "it's not that easy. this just complicates it even more. i never told you i'd break up with my girlfriend." patrick wishing he could stop himself, slap himself out of it and realise what he was doing. but he couldn't, couldn't pause and consider what he was pushing away. "why are you being like this?" you respond, words so quiet as you meet his gaze again. "we're just sleeping together, okay? was that not enough for you?" patrick standing up from the bed, his voice slightly raised. his words cutting through your skin like a knife, shaking your head slightly, unable to stop the tears now. "just leave patrick, please." your words shaky, lip quivering. "whatever." he leaves with a slam of the door. falling onto your back on the bed, crying out any remaining tears as your body curls up into a ball.

waking up to the sun rising the next morning, sadness turned to anger in the night spent alone. focusing all of your energy onto the match you were playing later today, jumping out of bed with a point to prove. soothing your puffy eyes and hiding your dark circles with light make-up. ubering to the venue and getting in a few hours with your hitting partner before readying yourself for your match. luckily avoiding patrick, who's match was happening at the same time as yours. sitting in your private dressing room, leg bouncing as you wait for the call to head to the court.

patrick: good luck champ

a text from patrick only spurs your anger more, ignoring the message and cracking your neck. the knock comes shortly after, slinging your racket bag over your shoulder as you walk down the hall. white dress with built in shorts standing opposite your opponent, bouncing side to side as the match starts. letting all of your anger out on the court, heavy grunts escaping you. your emotions fuelling your game as you win the first two sets, screaming out at your win. earning your place in the semi finals, asking your coach quickly about patrick's match. "third set is just starting, he won the first." rushing your way through your post match interview on the court, catching the end of patrick's match from the tunnel of the players entrance. arms folded, watching intently as you witness patrick fumble the final set. looking on as patrick's racket is smacked against the ground repeatedly, clearly frustrated with his loss. the racket is thrown across the court as he begrudgingly shakes the hand of his competitor. smirking from the sidelines as he picks up his bag, walking in your direction. slowing down slightly as he reaches you. he can tell you won just by the smug smile on your face as you stare him down. his big hands grabbing hold of your forearm as he drags you down the tunnel with him towards his dressing room.

struggling to free yourself from his grip as he slams the door behind you both. "what the fuck are you doing?" you shout, pushing him away from you once in the private space. the anger he felt on the court lifting as a devilish smirk spreads across his face. heavy hands cupping your face as his lips crash onto yours. hopelessly trying to push him off but not succeeding, your body desperate for your fix of him. your bodies fight against each other, pushing and pulling one another around the room, fighting for control. crashing into lockers and walls, tongues swirling around mouths. patrick pushing off all the items on the table in the corner, lifting you up to sit on the edge, pulling his tank over his head. grabbing the hem of your dress, attempting to pull it over your body but failing. "why can't i get this fucking thing off?" he struggles again, letting you slip it down yourself. "the shorts are built in." you half laugh at his frustration, fingers scratching down the skin of his arms. "stupid fucking thing." he laughs, lips attaching to yours again as he pushes his shorts and boxers down his legs. hooking his fingers around your underwear to pull them down, discarding them on the floor beneath you. pulling you further to the edge of the table as he pushes himself into you immediately, bottoming out. the table banging against the wall as he pounds into you, any anger left over working through his body to fuck you harder than he ever has.

bruising the skin on your hips as his hands dig in, slapping his crotch against yours. legs wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed behind his back. moans swallowed by each other in the sloppy kisses, foreheads pressed together as your nails scratch the length of his spine. "feel so fucking good baby." patrick mumbles into your neck, sucking on the skin. sweat dripping down your bodies, hair sticking to skin, his musk filling your nose. biting down on his shoulder as his hands slip underneath your ass, carrying you to the wall, your back pushed against it. your spine hitting against the cold wall with every thrust, his hands massaging the fat of your ass as he bucks his hips upwards into you at raw speed. his grasp on your skin pushing you up and down with his thrusts, bouncing on his cock as his tip hits your g-spot. the grip you have around his neck tightening as his thrusts grow sloppy, skin slapping echoing around the room as heavy groans fill the empty space. without warning his cum shoots into you, a drawn out groan leaving his lips as he pushes his weight onto you against the wall. slowly unwrapping your legs from his waist as he pulls out of you and places you on the floor. his body still weighing against you, his face nestled in your hair as you return to reality. throwing a towel down on the bench in the room, patrick sits and pulls you onto his lap. feeling his cock twitch as his hard on starts to calm, soft kisses placed on your face.

sitting there for a few minutes, before standing up to clean yourself up and get dressed. patrick following suit, cleaning up the table slightly. you're ready long before he is, waiting for him to slip his tank back onto his body. "don't you need to go find your girlfriend?" you tease, aiming to make him uncomfortable, seeking some revenge for his behaviour last night. you're expecting a laugh, a smirk, anything, but all he does is tense up. "don't talk about her." he whispers through gritted teeth. you're taken back, his words are harsh, protective, not like how he usually speaks. "i-i thought-" you start, rushing out words in attempt to understand. "i'm still with her." he spits out, the words hitting your chest as if he stabbed them into your skin. "i'm not breaking up with her, okay? you need to get that into your head." you've never heard patrick so harsh, so pointed. the thoughts are spinning around your mind, making you lightheaded. patrick was unable to stop himself, his self-sabotaging and attempts to protect himself from possible risk winning out. "if you want me, this is what you get. i'm not leaving her, not for you, not for anyone." your body is slumping, legs giving out on you as you fall onto the bench below you. all the words, all the affection, every glimpse of feeling patrick has ever showed you slowly slipping away as this unemotional version of him appears in his place. "it's second best, or nothing at all." his chest rising and falling as he looks to you.

patrick was different. he made you feel things no one ever had, made you feel electric. looking up to him through half-lidded eyes, breathing out sharply. both of you knowing you'd never be able to say no to him. you'd rather have him in some way than not at all. a single tear threatens to fall as you whisper.

"second best it is."

[imawhoreforu]

Sweet angel of mine - Ballet!Art AU

I apologize for taking so long, school just started again and so did my social life! But here it is, I hope it’s up to expectation💋

Disclaimer: this is barely proofread, and halfway through the writing I realized I sucked at dialogs. English is not my first language. Read at your own risk!

Warnings: slight stalking/obsession. Cursing. Mentions of porn and masturbation. Patrick just kinda pops up out of nowhere. Writing based on Art’s pov, which is why it kind of belittles him.

Art knew her. They never spoke, she has never even looked his way, but he knew her. He has walked by her classes too many times not to.

Not in a creepy way, no! Ask anyone who knows her just like he does, she’s just too enticing to go by unnoticed. Seriously, it’s almost mythical, she is so inhumanly beautiful that it’s sickening. Back straight and head held high, every aspect of her is set to absolute perfection, in a way that it’s obvious she’s either: A) An Angel or B) A ballerina.

C) Both, was Art’s best guess, because she seemed to lack all ballerinas number one characteristic — the crippling fear of being perceived as anything less than perfect. The type of fear that feeds the need to knock down the competition from the very start, a fear that’s hidden by enough fake confidence to present yourself as a higher being, the fear that keeps them skinny, uptight and miserable.

His Angel was never like that, she was only the good parts of ballet. The class and the beauty, but never the pain. Which is why he didn’t dare to speak to her, she’s just so perfect, he can’t risk tainting her pure clear soul with all his greed and shame — infect her — like the disease he is.

He’s happy just memorizing her class schedule, what time she’ll be at the cafeteria, and the exact way she moves behind the big glass windows of the dance studio. Never unhappy, never bothered. After all, she’s his Angel, and he’s just Art Donaldson.

That changes tho, at a college party. Art never went to parties, he uses all his energy studying for classes and practicing tennis. His friends try dragging him out of that lonely dorm room every goddamn weekend. Art never went to parties, and yet there he was at the rooftop looking for Tashi.

He spots her with her back turned, wearing that same pink top from that night at the hotel. It must’ve been destiny, because when he tapped her shoulder and she turned around, it wasn’t Tashis’s face.

“Hi!”

“Oh! Uhm… sorry, I was looking for Tashi.”

“No way! I’m her roommate!” Art had to fight the urge of blurting out “I know”.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh, Art”

“No way! I can’t believe I’m finally meeting the Art Donaldson.” The Art Donaldson? Not just Art Donaldson, but The Art Donaldson. She knew him, or heard of him… but still! Maybe this one sided, weird, parasocial relationship he has built her wasn’t one sided after all. Maybe she knew all his classes as well , maybe she watched him play like she watched him dance, maybe he’s her angel too…

“Tashi has told me so much about you! I don’t know why she didn’t introduce us sooner…”. Or maybe she’s his friend’s fucking roommate.

And before he could beat himself for being so foolish, she grabbed his hand. She guided him through the party and talked to him like he was worth talking to. Back straight, head held high, the same drill he had watched from afar, but this time is the first time he can watch from up close. He would’ve described her as reachable, except she has already been reached, since she was holding onto him. She told him how she loves Tashi and they get along so well, well enough to share absolutely everything — especially clothes — and he wondered, if one of those rare times Tashi would hug him goodbye after practice, he was actually hugging her.

Eventually they did find Tashi, and only then she lets go of his hand. Art thinks he might come to parties more often, because this evening went better than he could’ve ever imagined. He got to be part the cool kids in their very secluded and exclusive little group, not talking to loud or being to wild, but still being the stars of the evening.

And he got to know her.

From this night on, she would never be just the girl he’s weirdly obsessed with. Now, she’s the girl who loves iced coffe, the girl who’s only at Stanford until she’s good enough for Julliard. She’s the girl who said she was glad to meet him, that said he is funny, and smart, and they should hang out again some time.

Time flies when it’s spent with endless praise, and soon enough, the pink skies turned a deep shade of blue, most people left and the party is now a game of truth or dare with only their friends.

Tashi had left about ten minutes ago to grab more alcohol from the deli nearby. Art had taken his shoes and socks off for refusing to say both what Patrick used to tell him about ballerinas, and what he used to do while listening. And she has been answering pretty invasive questions, refusing to strip since she was only wearing sandals, shorts, and nothing underneath Tashi’s sweater. The others were merely background characters. And of course, Patrick was the asshole who kept making the invasive questions and disgusting dares.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?”

“What’s your porn search history?”

“Common Art, I think she’d like to hear it”

“I dare you to dance on the edge of the rooftop.”

This time, instead of laughter it was awkward silence, everyone froze.

“If you don’t you have to take your shirt off.”

“Get some music playing then.”

What?

“You don’t actually have to do it!”

“Yeah Patrick is just being a jerk!”

Everyone tried to stop her, but she was already sliding out of her sandals and playing classical music on her iPod.

“Oh my God, I was joking, I just wanted you to take your shirt off!”

Now she pushed herself up the edge, standing until the right part played through. She started slow — but not scared — in fact, she seemed as confident and collected as she always did. The parapet of the rooftop was quite thin, and she hopped and twirled from side to side at such a rapid steady pace that everyone just sat still and observed, their mouths agape but with no sound coming through, scared that if they shouted for her to stop they’d distract her and she’d fall.

The tense atmosphere and background music was abrupt by Tashi barging in through the door.

“What the fuck is she doing.”

She sounds angry, the second most scary thing happening right now.

“Performing Kitri’s variation on the edge of a rooftop…” A girl who Art has seen dancing alongside her answered, she too seemed more mesmerized than terrified.

“And why the fuck is nobody stopping her.”

Tashi started shouting for her to stop. Saying how this is stupid and dangerous and she’s completely insane. As the music intensified so does the choreography, and suddenly she’s pirouetting all the way until the very edge. Tashi’s demands start sounding more like begs, her voice almost crack when she sees her roommate stop, one centimetre forward and she would’ve fallen.

“That was- the most, stupid fucking thing someone has ever done.” She tries to sound tuff, but her heavy breathing makes it obvious she’s in the verge of crying.

“Not if you know you’re good.” She hops of the parapet, walking towards Tashi, close enough to her face to whisper — “And I am.”

God, Art has never been this fucking hard in his entire life.

[imawhoreforu]

the fanfiction in my head is soooo good wish you guys could see this

[imawhoreforu]

Begging Patrick to cum in you (you swear you’re on birth control) and he’s trying his best NOT to cause you’re his crazy ex that tried to babytrap him a few times.

Wait Patrick calling you fucking insane while he’s balls deep inside you because you’re telling him it’s okay… you’re on birth control just cum inside it’s not a big deal …. patrick saying he can’t do that, he can’t become even more of a fuck up than he already is…. but as soon as you wrap your legs around his waist and whimper his name, your lip wobbling—he doesn’t have a choice. spills deep inside you while saying you’re the fucking death of him and he never wants to see you again.

[imawhoreforu]

is it not common sense that art donaldson isn’t real. like. he’s not. real. he will never read fanfics, and he doesn’t give a fuck if people are writing about him begging, or humping a pillow, or being treated like a puppy because… he does not exist. he has no stream of consciousness. he is fiction.

like i promise u, tashi and his daughter will not be affected by the fanfics because. again. not real. no concept of space or time.

plus who r u to say art wouldn’t enjoy being dommed wholly and completely by tashi behind closed doors. luca guadagnino wasn’t gonna show that ! ! !

and there are real-life, grown men with wives who enjoy being submissive. enough of the submissive husband erasure ! ! men can be submissive and enjoy it ! let men be on leashes !