#Pat Patrick

[jazzdailyblog]

Exploring the Avant-Garde: Sun Ra's "Jazz in Silhouette"

Introduction: Sun Ra’s “Jazz in Silhouette” stands as a testament to the innovative spirit and boundless creativity of pianist-composer Sun Ra and His Arkestra. Recorded in 1959 during their Chicago period, this album marks a significant moment in Ra’s career, showcasing a blend of traditional jazz elements with avant-garde explorations that would come to define his later…

[nofatclips]

Blues Minor by John Coltrane from the album Africa/Brass

[michaelwheelers]

I know who you are. You're Fire and Ice, right? In the flesh.

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no more, you horndogs!”

[niroke]

[vequint]

Very different from my usual style. I have trouble not over-rendering shit so I tried a simpler art style, based off the Red Flags music video

[retropopcult]

The cast of The Munsters, 1964

[s1ushyz]

Isn't he just so dreamy 😮‍💨

[tinyufoboss]

fav trope <3

+bonus

[oldsidelinghill]

Oh i forgot about Tumblr! Hello!

Earlier this year I released an album with my friend Josh (of The Blasting Company) called "Those Wild Days". You might say the genre is "adult contemporary" with maybe a little bit of "dark lounge".

It's on Tidal and Spotify... and here on Bandcamp:

We also made a series of images to go along with the individual songs. The dolls were created by Erin Paisley, with sets & photography by Victoria Cloyes (and myself).

[spacerangersam]

some self indulgent pats

[blusandbirds]

your love is tough, your love is tried and true blue

challengers (2024) // true blue (boygenius)

[ervotica]

i’m at work and this is so fucking nasty, but who fucking cares—

thinking about patrick being obsessed with you creaming on his cock. he gets so excited when you’re ovulating, he just spends an insane amount of time watching his fat cock glide in and out of your hole. you could be whining, shaking, begging him to fuck you harder but he ignores you because he’s so in awe of just how. fucking. pretty.! your pussy looks covered in cream, walls gripping onto his thick girth for dear life.

when i tell you i need this man. i fucking need him. NEOW.

warnings; smut, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, sorta edging (pat is a tease)

you tell him you’re ovulating and just watch his expression light up with unbridled glee. he’s got you on your back in no time, ankles slung over his hips as he rocks into you, agonisingly slow, eyes trained on the way your hungry cunt sucks him back in the moment he pulls back.

you’re whining, grappling for purchase against his sweat slick chest and pushing your hips forward in hopes he’ll drive into you with more force, but all he does is suck his teeth and pin you back by means of a hand pressed to your lower stomach

“i know, i know,” he whispers, and god, he can’t even look at your face, so enamored with the creamy ring your cunt has made on the base of his cock, thick and white and squelching with every rut of his hips.

he pulls the fat tip out and you squeak, hole spasming as it mourns the loss of his thick length breaking your pussy open. it’s shining with slick, dribbling precum in fucking buckets, and a visceral red that has your insides churning with need.

“pat, please,” you cry, big crocodile tears gathering at your waterline.

“okay, baby,” he placates. “you need it? you need my cock that bad?”

you’re pretty sure you’d say anything at this point as long as it makes him put it back in - and he knows it, knows when you get fussy like this he can get you to agree to pretty much anything. so you nod, twining your fingers in the dark curls at his nape and tugging as he feeds his cock back into you, inch after torturous inch.

“attagirl,” he murmurs. “you ready to cream round me? hm?”

your mouth hangs agape when he ups his pace, finally.

it’s no time until you’re creaming round him, gushing and matting down the dark hair that dusts his thighs, shaking round him. until he starts from scratch, slowing the pace to watch your swollen little pussy split open for him all over again.

[anyarlly]

idk why but this part in the book got to meeee

i wanted to practice style diversity so i did the comic in the style of @caricatureofacorpse (please check them out their style is soooooo)

[emiko-matsui]

Posting like it's 2019 Polygon. anyway my deepest sympathies to Brian David Gilbert