#jesus come get me

[doormatty3]

Set Nerves (Patrick Wilson x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary

[Patrick Wilson x Female Reader] [Patrick Wilson x You] Acting has always been your passion, but the leap from a small indie film to a big Hollywood production is overwhelming—the set, the people, the intimate scenes. You’ve never even kissed someone on screen, let alone acted out a sex scene. Luckily, your co-star Patrick, with his striking blue eyes and kind smile, has agreed to help you. And how could you possibly refuse when his promise of a home-cooked meal and practise ignites a fire in you that feels like more? OR: How intimate scenes do not work in Hollywood 101

Wordcount: 10,895

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal sex, fluff, smut, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, flirting, cunnilingus

A/N: The main idea from this stems from a dream I had… make of that what you will

You arrive on set and you don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous in your life.  

This isn’t your first film gig - far from it - but you’ve mostly been in indie movies with small casts, small sets, and small expectations. 

But this? This is Hollywood. And you’re fucking terrified.

When your agent called to tell you about the movie, you were overjoyed. But that joy quickly morphed into fear when you read the script. It’s a pretty standard action thriller, but you’re cast as the female lead - the one who shares romantic scenes with the male lead, Patrick Wilson. 

You’ve never even kissed someone on camera, let alone acted out a sex scene. So, you can only hope Patrick is cool and will help you through it and not be annoyed at the mistakes you will definitely make.

As you walk through the bustling set, you see people everywhere, buzzing around and busy. You scan the area for the director and main crew and spot them in a huddle, engaged in deep conversation.

You don’t know most of the people but among them is a very handsome man standing with his back to you. 

He’s tall, with a muscular, broad back that strains the jacket he’s wearing. His short brown hair curls around his ears and the nape of his neck. 

When he turns, you catch his side profile - a straight nose, prominent brows, and plump, pink lips curled into a smile as he laughs. Mesmerised, you trail your eyes over his face, taking notice of how the skin around his eyes crinkles when he laughs and how he throws his head back.

You snap out of your reverie and make your way to them.

The director spots you and waves you over, breaking into a welcoming smile.

"Ah, there she is! Everyone, this is our leading lady," he announces. "And this," he gestures to the handsome man you noticed earlier, "is Patrick Wilson."

Patrick turns fully towards you, and your breath catches in your throat. 

Up close, he’s even more attractive than you initially thought - tall and broad, with a magnetic presence. His eyes, a striking hue of blue, seem to sparkle with an inner light, and his smile is warm and genuine, radiating kindness. There is an inexplicable charm about him, something that reminds you of the serene morning breeze over calm water. 

Now you notice the salt-and-pepper stubble that adorns his face, adding a scruffy, rugged charm to his already captivating appearance. His effortlessly confident yet inviting demeanour draws you in, making it hard to look away.

"Nice to meet you," Patrick says, extending his hand. "I’ve heard great things about you."

You shake his hand, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in your grip. 

"Nice to meet you too, Patrick," you manage to say, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach. 

As you clasp his hand, you marvel at the way it envelops yours completely. The nails are carefully trimmed, and his fingers are thick and strong, yet his touch is gentle and warm. 

The moment lingers longer than you expect, and you can’t help but notice the subtle roughness of his skin. The sensation of his hand in yours, combined with his striking presence, leaves you slightly breathless. You find yourself momentarily lost in the depths of his blue eyes, which seem to hold you captive. 

You are rudely snapped out of your reverie when the director and crew are called away, leaving you and Patrick standing alone amidst the set.

Patrick entirely turns to you, stepping a bit closer, his smile softening into one of genuine concern. "Are you alright?" he asks, his voice gentle. "You seem a bit nervous."

You let out a shy laugh, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Is it that obvious?"

"A little," he admits with a chuckle, the soft smile still etched onto his face. "But it’s completely normal. First days are always a bit overwhelming, especially on a big set like this."

As he speaks, he places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch seeps through your clothes and resonates deep within you as you feel the strength and comfort he offers. You also catch a whiff of his cologne, a subtle, intoxicating scent that makes your head swim slightly.

You take a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thanks. It’s just... this is all so new to me. I’ve never done anything on this scale before."

Patrick nods, his expression understanding. "Don’t worry. We’ll take it one step at a time. If you need anything or have any questions, just let me know. We’re in this together.

His reassuring words and kind demeanour, combined with the physical contact, send a pleasant shiver down your spine. 

"Thanks, Patrick. That means a lot," you say, looking into his blue eyes and feeling a spark between you.

He smiles again, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer before he lets go. "We’ve got this," he says confidently, and you can’t help but believe him.

Patrick’s eyes sparkle with kindness, and his smile is dazzling and warm. He’s easy to talk to, his laughter infectious, and before long, you feel the initial tension begin to dissolve.

As you talk, you notice how the light catches the wispy locks of hair around his ear, casting a golden halo that accentuates his strong jawline.

At some point, he tilts his head slightly and asks, "Hey," his voice soft, and his eyes trail onto yours, "I was thinking... if you’re still feeling nervous, maybe you could come over to my place this evening? We can go over the script together and maybe have some food. I think it might help put you more at ease if we talked about it a bit."

You feel your heart skip a beat, the invitation both exciting and nerve-wracking. But the way he looks at you, so earnest and handsome, with his eyes gleaming under the set lights, makes it hard to say anything but yes.

His sincerity is disarming, and the idea of spending more time with him is unexpectedly appealing. "Really?" you say, your voice betraying a mix of surprise and eagerness.

"Yeah," he replies, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. He tilts his head, and the light catches in his eyes, making them glow like sapphires. "It’ll be good to get comfortable with each other off-set. Plus, I make a mean pasta," he adds with a playful grin, his lips curving in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

"That sounds great," you say, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "I’d like that."

Patrick’s smile widens, and for a moment, the chaotic set fades into the background. "Perfect. I’ll text you the address. See you at seven?"

"Seven it is," you agree, already feeling a little more confident about the days ahead. The thought of spending the evening with him, getting to know him better, brings a warmth that eases your earlier anxieties.

_____

You arrive at Patrick’s place at seven, taking a deep breath before stepping out of your car. You didn’t really dress up, knowing that this was meant to be a professional meeting. Still, you opted for a sweater and pants that accentuate your figure and make you feel good about yourself.

Your nerves spike as you ring the doorbell. Moments later, the door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat once more - he seems to have that effect on you.

Patrick stands before you in a simple white t-shirt and jeans. The shirt clings deliciously to his defined biceps, and you can’t help but admire how the fabric stretches across his chest. His blue eyes are striking in the soft light of his house, and his hair is combed back, looking soft and touchable.

"Hey," he greets you with a friendly smile, the same genuine warmth you’ve grown accustomed to. "Come on in."

Before you can say anything, he pulls you into a hug. You melt into his embrace as his strong body envelops you, and you’re engulfed in his intoxicating scent, a mix of cologne and something distinctly him. It’s a brief moment that leaves you feeling both comforted and slightly flustered.

"I made carbonara. I hope that’s okay, " he says, releasing you gently, and you find yourself missing his warmth instantly. 

"That sounds perfect," you say, your voice steadier now. As you follow him inside, you notice the dining table already set with plates and a bottle of wine. The soft lighting casts a cosy glow, making the scene feel unexpectedly intimate.

"Wow, you went all out," you say, smiling at him.

"I wanted to make sure we had a comfortable setting to go over the script," he replies, his eyes twinkling. "Plus, I enjoy cooking. I hope you’re hungry."

"Starving," you admit, feeling more at ease with every passing moment.

He pulls out a chair for you, and you sit down, grateful for his thoughtfulness. "This looks amazing," you say, glancing at the beautifully prepared meal.

Patrick sits across from you, pouring the wine. "Let’s eat first, and then we can dive into the script," he suggests. As he hands you a glass, his fingers brush against yours, sending a spark of electricity through you.

You clink glasses, his smile reassuring you as the evening begins, and you start to feel that maybe, just maybe , this will be a night to remember for all the right reasons.

_____

The conversation flows easily as you sit across from each other, the aroma of the pasta mingling with the rich scent of the wine. You take a bite, savouring the flavours.

"This is amazing, Patrick," you say, genuinely impressed. "You weren’t kidding about being a good cook."

"Thanks," he grins, a boyish charm lighting up his face. "Glad you like it. Cooking is a bit of a hobby of mine."

As the meal progresses, you feel the pleasant buzz from the wine, making you more relaxed. 

Eventually, the conversation shifts to the script. You go over a few scenes, discussing your characters and their dynamics.

Patrick leans back in his chair, swirling his wine. "I remember the first time I had to kiss someone in a movie," he says, his eyes twinkling with the memory.

You feel your cheeks heat up, a blush creeping across your face. You look down at your glass, feeling a bit self-conscious. "I’ve never done it," you admit quietly.

Patrick’s expression softens, and he reaches across the table to gently touch your hand; the contact sends a shiver through you. 

"Hey, don’t worry about it," he says reassuringly. "It’s completely normal to be nervous. The first time, I was a wreck . But it’s all about trust and making sure both of us are comfortable."

You look up at him, appreciating his understanding. "It’s just... a bit intimidating," you confess.

He nods, giving your hand a comforting squeeze before letting go. "I get it. But we’ll take it slow, okay? If there’s anything you need or any way I can help, just let me know."

"I don’t even know the difference between a real kiss and a movie kiss," you confess, feeling a bit embarrassed. "How do you make it look real without it being, well, real ?"

He leans forward, his eyes locking onto yours, sincere and kind. "A movie kiss is all about angles and chemistry. It’s not as intimate as it looks. You’re thinking about the camera, the lighting, hitting your marks. It’s more technical than passionate."

"I can’t imagine it," you say, shaking your head slightly. "It just baffles me for some reason…"

Patrick’s smile is gentle as he continues. "It’s a unique experience for sure, especially if it’s your first time. But trust me, once you’re in the moment, it becomes about the scene and the characters. We’ll take it slow, I promise."

His words soothe you, and you nod, feeling more at ease. "Thanks, Patrick."

"We’ll get through it together," he promises, his eyes twinkling with reassurance. There’s a brief pause before he takes a deep breath, his gaze flickering to your lips for a moment so quickly you’re not sure if you imagined it, "I could show you if you want to"

You’re taken aback by the suggestion, your heart skipping a beat. " Show ..me?" you ask, a bit puzzled. 

A part of you hopes he means that he could demonstrate a kiss, and unconsciously, your eyes flicker to his lips, thinking about how kissable they look. You wonder how it would feel, the brush of his stubble against your skin, the taste of his lips. The thought sends a tingling sensation through you, and you quickly avert your gaze, feeling slightly embarrassed by your wandering thoughts.

You reach for the wine glass to take a sip and compose yourself.

"I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," he says sincerely. "I just thought it might help to visualise it…."

His consideration for your feelings warms your heart. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse. "No, I think... I think it would actually help," you admit quietly, your heart beating quickly in your chest.

"Okay," Patrick says softly, his smile turning encouraging. "Just relax. It’s just acting."

You nod, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. Patrick leans in slowly, his movements deliberate and gentle. You feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek as he inches closer, his lips brushing against yours with feather-light pressure.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you fades into the background. You focus on the sensation of his lips, soft and warm, against yours. It’s brief but enough to send a jolt of electricity through you, sparking a rush of emotions you hadn’t expected. Your hands come to rest on his arms.

Patrick pulls back slightly, his intense blue eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort or uncertainty. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath mingling with yours.

You nod, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah…" Your voice trails off as you feel the tingling sensation where his lips had just been. Your gaze instinctively wanders down to his lips again, noticing how inviting they look.

Feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips, you trace them softly over the curve of his biceps, a small shiver running through you. "I wanted... I wanted to get a feel for it, you know? Practise ."

His gaze softens, and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a comforting gesture. "I’m glad I could help," he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours again in a soft kiss.

Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, savouring the tender sensation. Before you can fully process the moment, Patrick kisses you again - deeply and passionately this time. His hands find their way into your hair, gently pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. 

Patrick’s lips are warm and inviting, moving against yours with a tender rhythm. You feel the stubble on his jaw grazing your skin, a gentle contrast to the smoothness of his lips. It’s a sensation that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, igniting a spark of desire in your veins, a dull ache that’s spreading through you.

The taste of pasta and wine lingers on your tongue as you kiss him, mixing with the heady scent of Patrick’s cologne - clean, masculine. The world around you fades into insignificance as you lose yourself in the intoxicating feeling of his lips moving against yours.

You kiss him back, your hands instinctively finding their place on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the firmness of his muscles under the thin fabric of his shirt. 

When Patrick finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you both are left breathless and wanting more. His eyes search yours, silently asking for consent and understanding in this uncharted territory.

"Was that okay?" he whispers, his voice filled with tenderness and concern.

You nod slowly, a smile playing on your lips. "Yeah," you whisper, licking your lips, savouring the lingering taste. "That was... enlightening ."

Patrick’s smile widens, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. He pulls back to take a sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving yours. You follow suit, taking a sip to steady your racing heart.

"See? Nothing to be afraid of," he says gently, his voice a soothing balm to your nerves.

You chuckle softly, feeling a wave of relief and confidence wash over you. "You’re right. Thank you for this... it really helps."

He reaches out, placing his hand over yours on the table. "I’m glad," he smiles, his touch warm and reassuring. "And if you ever need more practice..." His voice trails off, leaving the offer hanging in the air, charged with unspoken possibilities.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Are you saying you’ll practice movie kisses with me more often?"

Patrick chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Only if you want to. I mean, it’s for the sake of authenticity, right?"

"Of course," you reply, your voice teasing as you take another sip of wine. "All in the name of professionalism."

"Exactly," he agrees, his smile widening. "And if it happens to be enjoyable, well, that’s just a bonus."

As you sit there, savouring the moment and the connection you’ve just shared, you start to feel the buzz of the wine more intensely. It makes you bolder, your inhibitions melting away with each passing minute. You take another sip, your eyes lingering on Patrick, noting once more how the white shirt clings to his defined biceps and how his blue eyes sparkle in the dim light.

"So," you say, your voice carrying a playful edge, "do you practice movie kisses with all your co-stars?"

Patrick’s cheeks flush a charming shade of pink, and he looks down, a shy smile playing on his lips. "No, actually," he replies, his voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and sincerity. "You’re the exception."

You find his blush adorable, a stark contrast to the confident man you’ve seen before. His vulnerability in this moment only makes him more attractive. You can’t help but notice how the light catches the wisps of hair around his ear, making him look even more handsome.

"Really?" you ask, leaning in slightly, your curiosity piqued. "Why me?"

Patrick meets your gaze, his eyes intense and sincere. "Because I want you to feel comfortable," he says softly. "I remember how nerve-wracking my first intimate scene was. I just wanted to help you through it."

His words touch you deeply, and the warmth of the wine spreads through your body, making you feel more relaxed and at ease - but you feel like there is more behind this sentiment.

You look at him, marvelling at how good he looks. His blue eyes are mesmerising, holding a depth that draws you in. The more you glimpse, the more you feel the buzz of the wine, the room around you fading away, leaving just the two of you.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself leaning closer to him, your inhibitions slipping away with each passing second. The wine, his presence, and the undeniable chemistry between you create a heady mix that leaves you feeling both exhilarated and comforted, and it doesn’t help that you know by now that he is a fantastic kisser.

"Patrick," you say softly, your voice carrying a hint of the boldness the wine has given you, "I’m really glad it’s you."

He smiles, his eyes never leaving yours. "Me too," he replies, his voice just as soft. "Me too."

You take another sip of your wine, feeling the warmth spread through your veins, and look at Patrick, a playful glint in your eyes. "You know," you say, your voice light and teasing, "I wouldn’t mind practising with you again sometime."

Patrick grins, his expression both delighted and amused. "Really?" he asks, his eyes twinkling. "I think that can be arranged."

His grin is infectious, and you can’t help but find it incredibly cute. You notice how the light catches the wisps of hair around his ears, making his strong jawline even more striking, and you can’t help but let your gaze linger. 

_____

The wine flows freely as the evening wears on. Your initial nerves have all but vanished, replaced by a growing sense of camaraderie and a buzz that makes you feel bold and uninhibited. Patrick is charming, and witty, and his smile sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Eventually, you both turn your attention to the script, flipping through the pages together. As you read, you come across an intimate scene that makes you pause. "God, how... how should that work?" you wonder aloud, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Patrick looks at you thoughtfully, then says, "We could practise that as well."

You glance at him, shocked by his words, your eyes wide as you feel the dull thrum of arousal spreading through your veins like fire. He notices your surprised reaction and immediately starts to stammer, his cheeks flushing a deep red. "I mean, it’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anything."

Your gaze wanders to his hands, noticing how he fiddles nervously with his fingers. You gulp, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement. "No, no..." you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I like it."

Patrick’s eyes meet yours, his expression one of cautious hope. "You do?" he asks, his voice tinged with surprise.

You nod, feeling the buzz of the wine and the intensity of the moment, giving you courage. "Yeah," you admit, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yeah, I mean... it would help, right? To make it look more authentic."

He relaxes slightly, his blush fading as he gives you a tentative smile. "Okay," he says softly. "But only if you’re comfortable with it."

You take a deep breath, the reality of what you’re suggesting sinking in. But there’s something about Patrick’s presence, his understanding and genuine concern, that makes you feel safe. "I am," you say finally, your voice steady. Your fingers are brushing against his. His skin is warm and smooth under your touch, sending a thrill through you. "I trust you."

You both take a deep breath, the weight of the decision settling between you. With a nod, Patrick starts to read through the scene, his voice steady and calm. As he describes the actions and emotions involved, you feel a sense of clarity and purpose, the initial apprehension fading away.

"Alright," he says, his voice gentle but firm, "We’ll take it slow, just like with the kiss."

Patrick stands up and holds out his hand for you to take. Before you accept his help, you reach for your wine glass again, taking a long, steady sip to bolster your courage. Then, you place your hand in his, letting him help you to your feet.

"You ready?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, a mixture of nerves and determination coursing through you. "Yes," you reply, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

He leads you to the bedroom, his hand warm and reassuring in yours as you carry your wine glass in the other. The room is softly lit, creating an intimate atmosphere that both excites and calms you.

Once inside, Patrick turns to you, his expression serious but kind. "We’ll start with the basics, just like we did with the kiss. It’s all about trust and making sure you’re comfortable."

You take another sip of your wine, the warmth spreading through you, giving you the confidence to continue. "Okay."

Patrick steps closer, his presence both comforting and electrifying. "Just remember, this is all for the scene. We need to make it look real, but we also need to respect each other’s boundaries."

You nod again, appreciating his careful approach. "Got it."

He places his hands gently on your shoulders, his touch warm and steady. "We’ll start with simple touches, okay?"

"Okay," you breathe, feeling the heat of his hands through your clothes.

Patrick’s hands slide down your arms, his touch sending shivers through you. He leans in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for any sign of discomfort. Finding none, he continues, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that feels intimate and you try to ground yourself by repeating this is just practise like a mantra.

As he moves closer, you can feel his breath on your skin, the scent of him mingling with the wine on your lips. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment, focusing on the sensations rather than the nerves.

He stops, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark with intensity. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," you whisper back, feeling a mix of excitement and calm.

Patrick’s lips brush against yours in a soft, exploratory kiss. It’s gentle, testing as if he’s gauging your reaction. You respond, leaning into the kiss, feeling the familiar warmth and softness of his lips. It’s different now, more charged, more purposeful.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Still okay?"

"Yes," you say, your voice firmer this time, filled with newfound confidence.

Patrick smiles, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Good. Let’s keep going, then."

Encouraged by your response, Patrick leans in again, this time kissing you more deeply. 

His lips part slightly, and you feel the warmth of his tongue as it brushes against yours. The taste of him is a heady mix of wine and something uniquely him - earthy and intoxicating and somehow even more prominent than when you first kissed.

You both lose yourselves in the moment, the lines between acting and reality blurring. Your hands find their place on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless, your hearts racing in unison. "Are you okay?" he asks again, his voice filled with concern and something deeper.

"Yes," you reply, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "More than okay."

Patrick’s eyes soften, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, a fleeting caress that sends a shiver down your spine. 

"I’m glad," he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. "We’ll keep practising, taking it step by step."

Feeling the pleasant buzz of the wine, you find yourself staring at him, completely transfixed by his appearance. The soft lighting in the room plays on his features, highlighting the warmth of his blue eyes and his broad shoulders. 

Unable to resist the impulse any longer, you reach out and run your hand through his hair. It’s as soft as it looks, each strand silky beneath your fingertips. Patrick’s smile widens at the unexpected touch, his teeth flashing as the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement and affection.

"You like my hair, huh?" he teases gently, his voice filled with warmth.

You laugh softly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pleasure at being caught in the act. "It’s... really soft," you admit, your voice tinged with admiration.

Patrick chuckles a deep, melodic sound that resonates through the room. "Well, thank you," he replies, his tone playful. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

You smile, still brushing your hand through his locks, combing them away from his face.

"I should probably get us some more wine," Patrick suggests, breaking the quiet moment with a practical suggestion.

You nod, reluctantly letting go of his hair. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

As Patrick heads towards the kitchen, you can’t help but stare at his arse, noting how perfectly shaped and firm it looks as you take a moment to collect yourself, reflecting on the evening’s events. There’s a warmth in your chest that goes beyond the wine, a burgeoning sense of trust and possibility that extends beyond the rehearsal of a scene. 

You try to tell yourself that it’s just acting, that it doesn’t mean more, but you can’t deny the way he makes you feel, the way the heat has already bloomed low in your stomach and how your panties already feel uncomfortably wet. 

Patrick returns with the wine bottle in hand. You watch him move with fluid grace, his every gesture carrying an easy confidence that is both reassuring and enticing. He pours wine into both your glasses, the soft clink of glass against glass punctuating the silence between you. You take a sip almost instinctively, the warmth of the wine spreading through you.

"Are you ready to continue?" Patrick asks softly, his voice a soothing murmur.

You nod, meeting his gaze with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. He steps closer to you, his presence filling the space between you. With gentle fingers, he slips under your sweater, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes search yours for any sign of discomfort before he slowly pulls your sweater over your head.

The room seems to hold its breath as you stand there in your bra. Patrick’s gaze sweeps over you,  his eyes darkening with appreciation and desire. A blush creeps up your cheeks under his intense scrutiny, but you gather your courage, heightened by the wine, and take a deliberate step closer to him.

"Time to even the playing field, don’t you think?" you say, your voice a mixture of playfulness and a hint of nervousness. 

Your grin is more daring now, emboldened by the wine and the electricity in the air. With a steadying breath, you mirror his earlier actions, your fingers trembling slightly as they find the hem of his shirt. As you pull it off, your fingertips graze lightly over his skin, sending a thrill through your entire being.

The fabric slides smoothly over his shoulders, gliding down his arms and dropping to the floor with a whisper, and you can’t help but marvel at the sight before you that leaves you momentarily breathless.

His chest rises and falls with each steady breath, the contours of well-defined pectoral muscles evident beneath taut, smooth skin, illuminated by the soft, ambient light in the room.

Shadows play across his torso, accentuating the contours and highlighting his athletic build and the defined lines of his abs.

Your eyes wander over his shoulders, broad and powerful, that slope gracefully down to arms chiselled with sinewy muscle. You had admired his arms earlier, but now, seeing them bare, you appreciate them even more - the curve of his biceps and triceps, the subtle flex of muscle beneath his skin, and the prominent vein that traces a path down his forearm to his wrist.

You notice the gentle patch of hair on his chest, starting just below his neck and trailing down, disappearing tantalisingly into the waistband of his pants.

Your heart flutters in your chest as you take in the sight of him, feeling a heady mix of desire and admiration. The wine has added a hazy warmth to your thoughts, heightening your senses and intensifying the moment. 

His eyes meet yours again, a small smile playing on his lips as he interrupts your thoughts. "Shall we continue?" he asks, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is locked on yours with an intensity that ignites a rush of heat in your cheeks and a flutter in your stomach.

You nod, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. "Yes," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

With careful movements, Patrick steps closer, his fingertips brushing lightly against your waistband. His touch is tentative yet confident, a gesture of understanding and respect. You look at him as he unbuttons and unzips your pants, a rush of heat spreading through you at the intimate contact.

His movements are unhurried as he helps you step out of your pants, his eyes never leaving yours. The air crackles with tension as he stands before you, his own desire barely concealed beneath the surface. You catch a glimpse of admiration in his eyes as they roam over your form, his appreciation evident even in the dim light.

Once you’re left in your panties, Patrick takes a deliberate breath, his own pants next in line. With fluid motions, he removes them, revealing legs toned from years of physical activity. His movements are deliberate yet unhurried as he steps out of them, leaving him in just his black, tight boxer shorts.

Your eyes fall to his crotch, feeling a pang in your chest when you notice that his cock isn’t even half hard - while you’re sure your pussy is already soaking wet. 

Patrick steps closer, his blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "I’ll have to touch you," he says softly, his voice tinged with a mix of desire and professionalism. "And you’ll have to touch me for the scene to look realistic."

Through the haze of the wine and the heat simmering between you, his words momentarily confuse you. But then it clicks - this is supposed to be practice for the sex scene in the movie you’ll both be shooting. Still, the air between you feels charged with something much deeper, something that goes beyond mere acting.

You nod, swallowing hard as you whisper, "That’s okay."

Patrick’s hand trails over your bare back, his touch sending electric sparks across your skin. He pulls you closer, your bodies nearly touching, the heat of his bare chest radiating against your skin. The world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this intimate moment.

"You’re doing great," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. His hand moves slowly, exploring the curve of your spine, the small of your back, and then lower, fingers grazing the waistband of your underwear.

You shiver, your breath catching in your throat. Your own hands, trembling slightly, reach out to touch him, tracing the hard lines of his abs, feeling the strength beneath the smooth skin. 

Patrick’s eyes never leave yours, his gaze filled with both reassurance and raw need. "We need to make it believable," he says, his voice low and rough.

You nod again, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. He leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you cling to him.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. Finding none, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, his tongue parting your lips to explore your mouth, making your head spin again.

You press closer, your bodies aligning perfectly, the friction igniting a desperate need within you. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you flush against him. With a controlled urgency, he walks you both over to the bed, guiding you down gently and positioning himself above you, between your legs.

His blue eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you can’t think of anything else, the wine’s warmth and the intensity of the moment completely taking over you. 

Patrick leans over to the nightstand to grab the script, his elbow accidentally brushing against your clavicle. The unexpected contact snaps you out of your reverie, and a laugh bubbles up from your chest. He pulls back quickly, concern flashing in his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he apologises multiple times, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

Your laughter is infectious, and soon, he’s chuckling along with you, the tension easing slightly. The warmth of the moment wraps around you both, making the intimacy feel even more genuine.

"It’s okay," you reassure him, your fingers tracing a soothing path along his arm. "It’s kind of charming, actually."

He smiles, his eyes twinkling with affection and a hint of amusement. "Charming, huh? I’ll take that."

You bite your lip and look up at him, still grinning. The playful banter helps ease some of the nervous energy buzzing between you.

Patrick’s expression turns more serious, though the warmth never leaves his eyes. "Alright," he says softly, "I guess we should start now, so you can practice."

He positions himself and begins to fake thrust, his movements careful and deliberate. You feel his crotch brushing against your cunt through your clothes, the friction sending a jolt of unexpected arousal pooling within you. Your breath catches, and for a moment, you lie there stiff, your mind reeling from the sensation.

Sensing your tension, Patrick starts making corny jokes to lighten the mood. "Did you hear about the actor who fell through the floorboards?" he asks with a playful grin. "He was just going through a stage."

You can’t help but giggle, his effort to make you laugh easing some of your nerves. He continues, "Why don’t we ever tell secrets on a movie set? Because the walls have ears!"

Your laughter bubbles up again, the sound easing the tight knot of anxiety in your chest. Patrick smiles down at you, clearly pleased with your reaction.

"Better?" he asks, his voice warm and reassuring.

"Yeah," you nod, still smiling. "Much better."

"Good," he says encouragingly. "But you have to participate more. Try to fake moan, and don’t forget to touch me... make it believable."

You groan, feeling the weight of the situation and the need for more courage. "I need more wine," you declare, reaching over to your glass and taking a big sip. The liquid warmth courses through you, fortifying your resolve.

Patrick watches you with an amused smile as you set the glass down. "Ready now?" he asks, his tone light but his eyes serious and soft.

You nod, placing the glass back on the nightstand. You take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the wine spreading through your body, giving you a bit more courage. "Okay, let’s do this."

Patrick resumes his movements, his hips gently pressing against you. This time, you allow yourself to relax into the sensation, your hands sliding up his arms, feeling the strength and warmth of his muscles beneath your fingers. You start to move in sync with him, your body responding to the rhythm.

You let out a tentative moan, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sound. Patrick’s smile widens, and he leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, reassuring gesture.

"That’s it," he murmurs encouragingly, his eyes locking onto yours. "Just like that."

The friction of his thrusts, even through your clothes, sends sparks of pleasure through you, heightening your arousal. You let yourself get lost in the moment, in the feel of his body against yours, in the way his eyes stay locked on you, full of both desire and reassurance.

Patrick’s smile widens, and he leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, reassuring gesture.

You return the kiss, your hands trailing down his back, feeling the play of muscles under your touch. The fake thrusts become a bit more deliberate, the friction between your bodies sending jolts of desire through you. You moan again, louder this time, as his clothed dick brushes over your clothed clit, the sound mingling with the soft pants of your breath.

"Perfect," Patrick whispers against your lips. "Just keep doing that."

You respond with a louder moan, your hands exploring his back with more confidence, your body moving in sync with his. The sensation of his clothed erection rubbing against you drives you wild, and you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like without the barriers between you.

The wine buzzes in your system, adding to the hazy, intoxicating atmosphere. Patrick’s hands roam your body, his touch both gentle and firm, guiding you through it. The combination of his encouragement, the arousal pooling within you, and the heat of the moment make you forget everything else, leaving only the two of you, lost in the passion and intensity of your connection.

You start to get bolder, your cunt uncomfortably wet, and your nipples hard and stiff under your underwear. Each thrust makes you more aware of his growing hardness pressing against you. It’s clear this isn’t leaving him indifferent. His blue eyes are dark and blown wide with lust.

The words slip out before you can stop them. "I’m completely naked in the scene."

Patrick stops, his movements halting as he looks at you, serious but smiling. "Really?" he asks, a playful glint in his eyes. He searches your eyes, trying to gauge your meaning. 

You giggle, the wine making you feel braver and more carefree. "Yeah, we should make it more believable."

Patrick’s smile widens, and he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice a mix of amusement and desire. 

Your heart races, the reality of the situation mingling with the fantasy you’ve been lost in. "Yes," you whisper, the word escaping your lips before you can second-guess yourself.

He pulls back slightly, his gaze searching yours for any hesitation. Finding none, he nods. His hands move to the waistband of your underwear, pausing briefly as if giving you one last chance to change your mind. When you don’t, he slides them down slowly, the fabric gliding over your skin, leaving you bare before him.

The cool air against your exposed skin only heightens your arousal. Patrick’s eyes darken further as they roam your body, his appreciation evident in his gaze. You wonder if he can see just how wet you are, the thought making your cheeks flush and your cunt tighten with anticipation.

Before you can think, he places one big hand on your shoulder, pulling you up slightly so he can reach your bra, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the cool air. He unhooks it deftly, sliding it over your shoulders and down your arms, leaving your breasts exposed.

You shiver, a mix of anticipation and the cool air causing your nipples to harden even more. Patrick’s eyes lock onto your breasts, his breath hitching as he takes in the sight. He licks his lips, and you can see the raw desire in his eyes, making your heart race even faster.

"You’re beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and reverent as he stares at you. His fingers twitch at his sides as if he wants to reach out and touch you, but he shakes his head in a quick motion before he stands up, quickly shedding his own underwear.

Your eyes are drawn to his cock. He’s big, his length impressive even in its semi-hard state.  It rests in a bed of neatly trimmed pubic hair, his balls hanging heavy with a promise of what’s to come. He’s uncircumcised, and you can see the head peeking out, glistening with precum.

Your mouth waters at the sight, an involuntary reaction to the sheer desire coursing through you. You can feel your core clenching with need, your body aching for his touch. 

The sight of him, completely naked and aroused, sends a wave of heat through your body, your nerve endings singing with want and arousal.

The urge to reach out and take him in your hand, to feel the weight and warmth of him, is almost overwhelming. You try to remind yourself that this is only for practising a scene, but the intensity of your arousal makes it difficult to focus on anything other than the man before you.

Every detail of him captivates you - the way his muscles shift under his skin, the confident yet gentle way he moves, and the raw desire in his eyes as he looks down at you. 

He clears his throat, his voice breaking the tension slightly. "You know, we’d normally wear a modesty garment for scenes like this," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You giggle, the wine wreaking havoc on your inhibitions, making you feel bolder and more carefree. "It’s okay," you say, reaching for his hand and pulling him down towards you.

Patrick lets himself be guided, his body flopping down on the bed beside you, clearly also impacted by the wine. 

"So you want to continue to practise?" he asks, slightly breathless. His eyes search yours, checking for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, and he leans in, his breath warm against your skin as he positions himself between your legs again. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips before capturing them in a kiss that’s both tender and fiercely passionate.

The kiss deepens, your bodies pressed together, the heat between you growing. Patrick’s hands roam over your body, exploring every curve, every line, as if committing them to memory. The sensation is almost overwhelming, your senses heightened by the intensity of the moment.

He starts to fake thrust again, his half-hard cock bumping against your clit, making you arch against him and let out a real moan.

Patrick instantly stops, his eyes widening. "Sorry, this might be a bad idea," he says, his voice filled with concern and regret.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "It’s okay," you assure him, though you can feel the tension still hanging in the air, afraid that he’d stop whatever this is.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I didn’t mean to... I just..."

"It’s fine, really," you interrupt gently, placing a hand on his cheek before pulling him down for a kiss again. The touch of your lips against his seems to melt away his doubts, and he responds with a fervour that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands resume their exploration, tracing the lines of your body with a reverence that makes you feel cherished. The wine buzzes in your system, blurring the lines between reality and the scene you’re practising.

You feel him hardening further against you, the friction of his cock against your clit sending sparks of pleasure through you. The feeling of his bare skin against yours only heightens the sensation, making you crave more - crave him more.

Patrick’s kisses trail down your neck, each one igniting a trail of fire on your skin. His hands move to your hips, his touch both gentle and commanding. He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both tender and fiercely passionate.

Your desire for Patrick to throw all his principles to the wind and just fuck you grows more intense with each passing second. His now fully hard cock continues to brush against your clit, each movement sending electric shocks of pleasure through your body, making you whimper and moan uncontrollably. 

Your skin feels hot, and flushed with arousal, and every nerve ending is alive, screaming for more.

You close your eyes, unable to bear looking at him - his gorgeous blue eyes, lips parted and slightly swollen, framed by his tousled hair. You try to pretend you don’t want him, but the feeling is overwhelming and impossible to ignore. His breath is hot against your skin, his scent intoxicating, mingling with the faint aroma of wine.

You want to shift your hips so he’d slip inside, desperate to feel the stretch you know his cock would provide. You’re so wet, and you can feel his precum smearing over your cunt whenever he bumps against it, making the friction even more tantalizing. The heat between your legs is unbearable, a molten pool of desire that only he can quench.

Unable to resist any longer, you finally shift your hips, and the very tip of his cock slips into you. It’s not even an inch, but the sensation is electric, and you moan loudly, and freely. Your whole body trembles with anticipation and need.

But Patrick stills immediately.

You open your eyes to find him looking at you, his cock twitching inside you. His blue eyes are dark with lust, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. He’s breathing heavily, his face a mix of desire and concern, but he hasn’t moved a muscle.

"Patrick..." you whisper, your voice trembling with need, your body arching towards him, the head of his big dick already feeling so wonderful.

He swallows hard, his gaze locked onto yours. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice barely more than a breath, his tone filled with raw, unfiltered longing.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yes," you manage to say, your voice filled with conviction. "I want this. I want you ."

For a moment, he doesn’t move, as if he’s waging an internal battle with himself, his blue eyes searching yours one last time. 

But then, his resolve seems to crumble. 

He shifts his hips slightly, the head of his cock pressing just a little further inside you. The sensation is exquisite, and you can’t help but let out another moan, your body arching toward him, your skin tingling with the heat of arousal.

Patrick leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce, passionate kiss as he begins to push inside you, slowly, inch by inch. The feeling of him filling you is everything you imagined and more, the stretch and heat of him making you gasp with pleasure, your cunt clenching around him.

His cock is thick and hard, pressing against your inner walls in the most delicious way. The friction is intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your entire body.

"God, you feel amazing," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with desire. His hands roam over your body, one coming up to cup your breast, his fingers teasing your nipple until it hardens completely under his touch. The sensation makes you cry out, your body responding eagerly to him.

His eyes darken further as they roam over your body, his gaze hungry and appreciative. The raw desire in his eyes makes your heart race even faster, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.

Patrick’s movements become more confident, his thrusts deeper and more purposeful. He squeezes your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers, and the combined sensations of his cock and his hands drive you wild. The rhythm he sets is perfect, each stroke hitting just the right spot inside you, his thumb flicking your nipple sparks of desire straight to your core.

His eyes are dark and intense, his gaze never leaving yours as he fucks you. The room fills with the sounds of your shared passion - the slick, wet noises of him sliding in and out of you, the gasps and moans that escape your lips, and the low, guttural sounds he makes.

Your skin is on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. The pleasure builds with each thrust, mounting higher and higher until it’s almost too much to bear. Your body tightens around him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

His pace quickens, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I can’t do this long," he groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back and his thrusts becoming more urgent and desperate. "I don’t think I can hold on much longer... I’m too close."

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper, wanting to feel every inch of him inside you. "Don’t stop," you plead, your voice breathless and filled with need. Your hands grip his shoulders, feeling the muscles shift and tense under your touch as he thrusts into you.

Patrick’s thrusts become more urgent, more desperate, driving you both closer to the edge as his pubic bone rubs against your clit. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as the pleasure becomes overwhelming.  You can feel his cock swelling, the head pressing against your inner walls with increasing intensity.

Suddenly, with a final, powerful thrust, he shudders and gasps, his body tensing as he reaches his climax. You feel the hot rush of his cum filling you, his cock pulsing inside you as he spills himself deep within you. The sensation pushes you to the brink, but just as you’re about to fall over the edge, he stills, his head dropping to your shoulder.

Patrick’s breathing is ragged, his body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, a perfect echo of your own. Your pussy clenches around him as you whimper, not having cum yet.

He lifts his head to look at you, his blue eyes filled with a mix of wonder and satisfaction. "I’m so sorry," he murmurs, his voice filled with embarrassment. "I came before you. I didn’t mean to..."

You can see the concern in his eyes, the worry that he’s let you down. But the sight of him, so raw and vulnerable, only makes you want him more. "It’s okay," you whisper, your voice soft and reassuring, accustomed to not being brought to orgasm by your partner.

"No, it’s not," Patrick says, his voice firm. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that makes you moan into the kiss.

He pulls out, and you whine at the loss, feeling his thick cock slipping out, leaving your cunt empty and leaking his cum. Patrick hushes you gently, reaching down and brushing his thumb over your clit. 

"Relax," he murmurs, and with that, he plunges two of his thick fingers into your cunt. "God, you look so well fucked. Your pussy is gaping… and so full of my cum."

You gasp loudly as he uses his fingers to fuck his cum further into you. 

His fingers are big and skilled, curling inside you to hit that perfect spot with each thrust. The sensation of his cum being pushed deeper into you ignites the nerves through your body, making you arch against him.

Patrick’s thumb circles your clit in time with his thrusting fingers, creating a delicious rhythm that has you gasping for breath. "You’re so wet," he whispers, his voice rough with desire. "I can feel how close you are."

Your legs tremble as the pleasure builds, your body tightening around his fingers. His touch is relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The sounds of your wetness fill the room, mingling with your desperate moans.

Finally, the pressure becomes too much, and you cry out, your body convulsing as you cum hard around his fingers. Patrick doesn’t stop, his fingers and thumb working you through your orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until you’re shaking with the intensity of it.

As you come down from your high, Patrick withdraws his fingers slowly, watching you with a satisfied smile. But he isn’t done yet. He shifts down the bed, positioning himself between your legs. "I want to taste you," he says, his voice husky with desire.

Before you can respond, he lowers his mouth to your pussy, his tongue licking a broad, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit. The sensation makes you gasp, your body still hypersensitive from your orgasm. His tongue is warm and soft, and he laps at you with an eagerness that sends shivers down your spine.

Patrick’s mouth is relentless, his tongue delving into your pussy to taste the mix of your arousal and his cum. He groans against you, the vibration adding to the pleasure. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts on you, his tongue and lips driving you wild.

When he finally focuses on your clit, sucking it gently into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, you’re already teetering on the edge again. The intensity of his mouth on you, combined with the aftershocks of your previous orgasm, quickly builds you up to another peak.

But Patrick stops there. 

He lifts his head and crawls up your body, his eyes dark with desire. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "Open your mouth." Your heart races as you obey, and he spits the mixture of your juices and his cum into your mouth. The intimate, filthy act sends a new wave of arousal through you, and you swallow it eagerly, your eyes never leaving his as you moan.

He smiles at your reaction, then moves back down between your legs. His tongue delves into you with renewed fervour, his mouth working you over with an intensity that leaves you breathless. He laps at your folds, his tongue thrusting into you and then flicking over your clit, making you writhe beneath him.

His fingers join in again, thrusting into you while his mouth lavishes attention on your clit. The combination of his skilled fingers and his insatiable mouth drives you wild, each sensation building on the last until you’re on the edge once more.

You feel the pleasure building again, higher and higher, your body tightening in anticipation. When you finally cum, it’s with a force that leaves you trembling, your cries echoing in the room as Patrick continues to lap at you, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm, your body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over you. 

He finally pulls back, his face glistening with your juices, and he smiles up at you with a look of pure satisfaction. "You’re incredible," he murmurs, crawling back up to lie beside you, his fingers gently brushing your hair from your face. "And I’m not done with you yet."

"W-what?" you whisper, completely fucked out,  your cunt still twitching and buzzing from your repeated orgasms.

He smirks, impossibly handsome in the dim light. His blue eyes are still dark and blown wide, his curls sweaty and sticking to his forehead. His whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat, making his muscles glisten.

"You heard me," he nuzzles his nose against you before kissing you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with renewed hunger.  You can feel him hard against you, his cock pressing into your thigh, his desire evident.

His hands roam over your body, cupping your tits and squeezing gently, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger.  The sensation sends electric jolts straight to your cunt, making you moan into his mouth and clench around nothing. 

Patrick pulls back and begins trailing kisses down your neck and shoulder, his touch igniting a fresh spark within you. He then turns you over onto your stomach gently, guiding you into position.

"Hold onto the headboard," he instructs, his voice husky with desire.

You take a moment to respond, and your mind is hazy with arousal and the lingering effects of the wine. Patrick’s hands caress your back, and he asks softly, "Are you okay?"

You nod, feeling a new surge of arousal. You throw your ass back a bit, presenting yourself to him, and grab the headboard. 

He laughs softly, the sound filled with warmth and amusement, and presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. "Good girl," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and sending shivers down your spine.

Patrick’s hands move down your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. His fingers dig into your flesh, and the sensation of his touch makes you feel even more aroused, your body aching for more as you feel the heat he emanates.

He takes a moment to align himself, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. The mix of your wetness and his cum makes the slide smooth as he pushes into you, filling you once more.

The sensation is intense, the stretch almost overwhelming as he fills you up inch by inch for a second time. You moan loudly, your fingers tightening around the headboard as he bottoms out inside you, his cock deep and hard and feeling somehow bigger from that angle.

Patrick’s fingers dig into your hips as he starts to thrust slowly. Each movement sends ripples of pleasure through your body, and you moan, pushing back against him. 

His hands grip your hips, pulling you back to meet his movements, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Every thrust hits that perfect spot inside you that makes your toes curl, making you gasp and moan with each one.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he groans, his voice thick with pleasure. Patrick’s hands roam over your back, sliding up to cup your breasts and pinch your nipples, adding to the overwhelming sensation. The way his hands play with your tits sends another wave of arousal through you, your nipples hard and sensitive under his touch.

Your mind is a haze of pleasure, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Patrick’s rhythm increases, his cock sliding in and out of you with a steady, relentless pace, each one filling you up in a way that leaves you breathless and wanting more. The sound of your bodies moving together fills the room, accompanied by your moans and his groans of pleasure.

You feel yourself getting closer, the knot of pleasure tightening in your core. Patrick’s hand slides down your body, finding your clit and rubbing it in quick, tight circles. The dual stimulation is too much, and you cry out, your body tensing as your orgasm crashes over you with a force that leaves you trembling and breathless. Your pussy clenches around him, your moans loud and uninhibited.

Patrick keeps moving, prolonging your pleasure, and his own thrusts grow more erratic. "Fuck," he groans, burying himself deep inside you as he comes, his cock pulsing and filling you with his cum once more. 

The feeling of his warmth inside you only intensifies your pleasure, making you cry out again as the waves of your orgasm continue to wash over you.

You collapse onto the bed, letting go of the headboard - spent. He stays there for a moment, both of you catching your breath before he slowly pulls out and collapses beside you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close as you both come down from your high. The sensation of him slipping out of you leaves you feeling both empty and satisfied, your cunt still buzzing with the aftermath of your orgasm.

"You’re amazing," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You smile, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction and contentment. "You too," you reply softly, snuggling closer to him.

Patrick shifts behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you close until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. His body is warm, a comforting contrast to the cool sheets beneath you. His hand settles possessively on your waist, fingers splayed across your skin as if to keep you anchored to him.

The sensation of being spooned by him is almost overwhelming in its tenderness. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, his breath warm against the nape of your neck. Every inch of him moulds perfectly against you, his presence both soothing and electrifying.

"You feel so good," you manage to whisper back, your voice thick with fatigue. Your muscles are deliciously sore, every movement reminding you of the intensity of your connection just moments ago. The heady mix of the wine and the afterglow of sex has left you in a blissful haze and pleasantly drowsy, your body buzzing with a languid, satisfied warmth.

Patrick’s hand begins to draw lazy circles on your hip, the simple gesture incredibly intimate and grounding, his lips brushing against your shoulder in a feather-light kiss.

A soft smile tugs at your lips, your eyes drifting closed as the exhaustion from the night’s events settles over you like a warm blanket. 

He tightens his hold on you slightly, his body curling protectively around yours. The weight of his arm, the solidity of his presence, and the rhythmic beating of his heart against your back all work together to lull you into a state of deep relaxation.

As you begin to drift off, you feel Patrick nuzzle his face into your hair, his breath steady and even. The scent of him - clean sweat and a hint of cologne - envelops you, further grounding you in the moment. You feel utterly safe and cherished in his embrace, every worry and stress from the outside world melting away.

The combination of physical exhaustion and the wine coursing through your system makes it impossible to keep your eyes open any longer. You let out a contented sigh, snuggling deeper into Patrick’s embrace, your body fitting perfectly against his.

"I could stay like this forever," you whisper, your words barely more than a breath.

Patrick’s lips brush against your ear in a gentle kiss. "Me too," he whispers back. "Sweet dreams."

With his words lingering in the air, you finally let yourself succumb to the overwhelming fatigue. The last thing you register is the steady, comforting rhythm of Patrick’s breathing and the reassuring weight of his body against yours, grounding you in a sense of peace and contentment that lulls you into a deep sleep.

[nighthawkes]

I must sleep. Sleep is the mind-healer. Sleep is the big-life that brings total ability to fucking do anything. I will face my bed. I will permit the blankie to pass over me and snores to pass through me. And when sleep has gone past I will turn the outer eye to greet the new morning. When the sleep has gone there will be everything. Energy and will to live will remain.

[moonkhao]

WE ARE | EP16

[phoenixcatch7]

I get that calling white lotus lbh a sticky little 'sheep' is a canon translation and stuck in the fandom now anyway, but I do feel the intended spirit of the original word wasn't the sheeple/dumb herd animal that's more common in the western world, but instead something actually conveying sweetness, innocence, purity and youth - lamb.

Famous for being utterly adorable and following around their mothers, gambolling in sunny meadows, curly white wool shining.

And NOW we can talk about black sheep/wolf in sheep's clothing metaphors.

[byfulcrums]

I hate it when people make the DC characters feel scared of Phantom. Or when they make them freak out over how crazy his life is

Most of the characters would just go “Oh a Ghost King! That's cool” and either attack, befriend or ignore

They always write Dick to be the responsible one when he's not. If he saw this child he wouldn't go “Omg he's so young!!! Poor baby!!!” he'd go “Oh god no please don't let B see this one” and then “Hey this one's kind of fucked up. I'm going to keep it for a while to see what happens wish me luck🤞”

Or when they make the JL freak out about him. Guys, Flash is able to break reality, time travel, destroy the multiverse and more. If he finds out Danny is Dick's clone or something he'd go “again? How many clones are there?” and just vibe with it

Danny would be so happy to find people who just don't give a shit about how weird he is. He only has his friends and sister and they're just. Three people. This boy needs mental help and everyone freaking out about him isn't helping. He's just vibing with his new also overpowered friends

“Yeah so I'm half dead. I was killed by a ghost portal that opened right where I was, and instead of actually killing me it brought me back to life. I'm a ghost possessing its own body. Sometimes if I feel too weak I'll look the way I looked when I died — with my chest half open and my eyes bleeding. My blood is green. I will probably see everyone I love die. Wild, right?”

“Oh yeah! I've got my own experience with dying. It sucks, man. It's funny for the fastest man alive to not have been able to outrun death lmao. Speedsters also age really weirdly. I'm a married adult with two children but I look like I'm 18. But then later I look like I'm 30. And then 20. And then 40. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll look into the mirror and won't recognize who I see haha”

“Talking about body horror! I don't know if I'm the real me. I've created so many mes (the scout thingies) that I can't tell if I'm the original one or not. Maybe I died, and I'm the only thing that remains of me, and I would never be able to tell. I could be being tortured right at this moment. I could be trapped in the speedforce. And no one would ever know because I'm right here, but if I'm not me then they'd live with an imposter by their side”

“Ahh, body horror. My old friend”

(they're all on the verge of a panic attack)

Danny, glowing with a green light at 3am in the kitchen: Hey what the fuck are you doing here

Green Lantern, also glowing with a green light: I live here you fuck

Danny: Shit this isn't my house??

[queerprayers]

i want to say first of all that i fully respect a community's/denomination's/culture's right to have closed practices. i am not entitled to other people's traditions, and when i am a guest in a space i understand that everything is not automatically for me. and i know i do not have to understand to respect.

and also! when i go to a catholic church and can't receive communion i want to fall on the floor weeping. what do you mean i can't have him he's right there. sorry my baptism was the wrong kind of baptism. i'm hungry and you want me to become someone else before being fed.

[firehose118]

“We’re just helping each other out on a long shift. It’s not gay,” Sal says into the air of the empty station bathroom as he wraps a hand around Tommy’s dick, and then in the same breath, “No one can ever know.”

Tommy nods, too far gone in the fantasy-come-to-life of what’s happening to dwell on the irony there. He’ll pick that apart later. For now, he has what he’s craved for so long within his grasp, he just has to reach out and take it.

He gets his hand on Sal’s dick in return and revels in the way it twitches under his touch. Tommy wants to moan with how good it feels to touch another man like this, to be touched by one. But he has to pretend this is friend stuff—normal straight guy shit, not the stuff of waking wet dreams—or else it will be taken away from him.

{finish on ao3 or continue below}

Tommy tries to match Sal’s pace: hard, fast, efficient. He thumbs through the liquid gathering at the head, twists his hand on the upstroke, but doesn’t let himself linger—even as his body is screaming for him to slow down and savor it. This might be his first and last chance to have this.

The way Sal is looking right at him is unexpected. He’d thought Sal would look away, pick a tile on the wall and stare at it, pretend this isn’t happening, but no: Sal is in it, studying Tommy’s face in that passive slack-jawed way of his. Tommy keeps his expression carefully neutral but he’s worried even that will give him away.

Sal’s mouth drops open on a silent moan when Tommy’s thumb drags along the vein on the underside just right, so Tommy does it again harder. He wants Sal to like this. He wants Sal to want to do this again.

Tommy is losing focus quickly. Sal isn’t working as hard to impress him, isn’t pulling out different moves to see what he likes, but his hand is big and warm and calloused and masculine around Tommy’s dick and it really doesn’t need to do anything else to have him panting and leaking.

He’s thought about this so many times and the reality of it is even better than he could have imagined. Every bit of energy he’s not using to give Sal the handjob of his life he’s putting into not whining and humping Sal’s hand like a dog.

He takes half a step forward before he can stop himself; needing to be closer. Sal huffs but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step back.

They’re so close to each other now that Tommy could wrap his hand around both of their dicks and jerk them off like that. He knows it would feel good, wants it more than anything in this moment, but it would be a definitive step over the ‘not gay’ line into territory he’s not sure Sal will follow him willingly. It’s this or nothing, so Tommy chooses this.

“You close?” Tommy asks. He is. He can already feel it rising in his stomach, his balls, licking along his spine. He wants Sal to come first, to hide whatever his own orgasm is going to look like in the mists of Sal’s pleasure.

Sal nods. His face is inches away from Tommy’s and he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

When it happens, Tommy feels it. He doesn’t know why he didn’t expect to—he always feels the pulsing of his own dick as he comes—but to feel another man’s dick twitch and spasm as it shoots warm into his hand has Tommy biting back a moan so quickly he chokes on it.

Sal comes with a low groan and Tommy is helpless to follow. For as long as he’s wanted this—wanted Sal—he thinks he could’ve come from that sound alone, but the way Sal’s big hand tightens on the next few strokes is the last thing he needs to send him hurtling over the edge.

Tommy’s forehead drops to Sal’s shoulder without permission and he keens high in his throat as the pleasure rips through him. It’s easily the best orgasm he’s had in years and he’s instantly terrified of what that means.

He shoves it down. Later. He’ll think about that later.

Tommy pants, coming back to himself, and he gives himself two more seconds of physical contact with Sal before he pulls back completely.

They both lean against the hard tile wall of the bathroom and catch their breaths.

“Good?” Tommy asks, giving a joking half-smile. He knows the answer but it seems like a safe enough way to start talking again.

“Jesus, kid,” Sal laughs. “Yeah. It was good. Where the fuck’d you learn how to do that?”

He grabs some paper towels to wipe his hand off, then gives them to Tommy to do the same.

“Lonely childhood,” Tommy says. It’s true but it’s not the answer. “Dad had a lot of porn mags he’d leave around. I spent a lot of time jerking off. Figured yours doesn’t work too differently from mine.”

That look is back in Sal’s eyes like he wants to say something, but he stays quiet again. He just shakes his head and laughs.

Sal walks towards the door but stops before he opens it. “Give it a few,” he says. He doesn’t look back at Tommy but he has a small smile on his lips still. Tommy takes that as a win.

Sal leaves and Tommy is left alone with the enormity of what just happened. It was good. It was hot. Sal clearly doesn’t hate him, isn’t disgusted by him. He seemed almost… intrigued.

Tommy will sort out the shame and elation he feels swirling inside of himself like oil and water later.

For now, he washes his hands, splashes some water on his face, and gets back to work.

[joejoeba]

i just remembered how many gold ships there are in JoJo like it truly does not get more wild. Every one hits in some wild offshoot bullseye

[justanotherperson1]

How tall is Bay OP compared to the TFP bots & cons?

I just imagine TFP Megs having to look up at Bay OP, scared shitless as Bay OP glares down at him like he just insulted his carrier. Bay OP bitch-slapped a Dinobot (Grimlock) over twice/three times his size like it was nothing, he would destroy TFP Megs.

"In my universe, I ripped your head clean off your shoulders. And that was when I was missing an arm."

Imagine if they met Bay Megs too... :0

I was going to sit here and make a joke about how Bay! Optimus was so much shorter than his Counterpart and Megatron in TFP! Because I when I was first researching it I saw he was about 22 feet tall compared to their enormous 30’ and 32’ feet… but then I found sources saying Bay! Was 28’ or that TFP OP was 35…. DOES ANYONE KNOW THEIR CANNONICAL ACTUAL HEIGHTS???? Am I just blind???? Do I not know how to research??? Does anyone have an official chart???

Anyway, Bay! Op IS the goat when it comes to violence no matter what size, but I had such a funny image of him being a smidge taller than bumble and looking UP at Megatron saying those same things and still getting that same reaction. AND THEN Megatron- if he ever found out about his Bay! Counterpart would have to deal with the fact that he had a stint where he went mad in the middle of Africa with transformer organic babies (????) and ended up stranded on earth with little to nothing anyway being hunted down by three different organizations so Dude is pressed to say the least. I feel like Bay! Megatron doesn’t have that same dog in him like TFP Megatron does tbh.

Now, if Bay! Op was taller….. It would be like facing a dark ronin of death leaving a path of destruction in his wake. Yikes.

[spacelazarwolf]

ngl i’ve experienced more harassment as a jew from antitheist ex evangelicals than i have from christians. i actually feel much safer around the christians in the church choir i work for than i do edgy atheists bc the church choir ladies will give me cookies and hanukkah cards while the edgy atheists will tell my queer trans ass that i’m homophobic and in a cult.

[doormatty3]

A True Gentleman (Patrick Wilson x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Patrick Wilson x Female Reader] [Patrick Wilson x You] He's just one of those terribly handsome dads that you're gonna talk about with your colleagues later - that's your initial thought when you meet Partick at a parent-teacher night. Those bright blue eyes, soft brown locks, charming grin, and that damn black wool sweater leave you smitten. When you accidentally burn your hand with hot coffee, he's a true gentleman, escorting you to the bathroom. But when seeing the two of you in the mirror you soon find out he's just as smitten and he teaches you the most important lesson - all you have to do is ask. OR: Patrick teaches you to be quiet while taking his cock

Wordcount: 7,673

Warnings: 18+, fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, breeding, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk

A/N: This happened when I saw that picture of Patrick at the Sitzprobe for the 80th anniversary concert in London. Jesus fucking Christ HOW does he look so good in that black wool sweater.

I also wrote this while having Corona - great success

AND: Merry Christmas to you all

A hurried glance at the clock sends a surge of anxiety through your veins - you are late. While that would normally be excusable you know that it won't be today since you’re expected to attend one of the infrequent parent-teacher nights at the school. What complicates matters further is that you’re a teacher and parents wish to consult you to find out how their kids are doing. 

You gather your students’ files from the table in the teachers’ room you were sitting at, cursing when you drop a sheet of paper.

All this stress is certainly not treating you well so you stop to take a breath, telling yourself that it will be fine, especially because not many parents have booked a slot with you. If your memory doesn’t fail you it should be two appointments this evening, one at the beginning and one at the end of the time period.

As you stand in the teachers’ lounge, you take another moment to compose yourself. With a deliberate sweep, you smooth over the fabric of your skirt and inhale deeply again.

You gather your paperwork and your files and step you, leaving the confines of the room.

Stepping into the corridor of the cool, a wave of hustle envelops you. Lockers line the walls, intermittently punctuated by vibrant bulletin boards displaying student achievements as well as upcoming events and general information. Your footsteps echo rhythmically through the hallway as you walk.

You exchange quick greetings with anyone you encounter in passing.

Observing from behind, his short, curly light brown hair styled backward catches your attention. Some rebellious locks playfully curl around the nape of his neck, framing the contours of his ears. It’s a distinctive look, one that would undoubtedly be etched in your memory had you encountered him before.

Fuck an internal curse echoes through your thoughts as you approach your office and find a tall man standing in front of it with his back turned to you. His figure is outlined by a snug wool sweater that accentuates the breadth of his shoulders.

You sift through your mental catalogue of students and their parents, but his name remains elusive, a puzzle piece refusing to fit.

Maybe he is standing in for the mother of his child? Because his presence seems out of sync with the typical attendees of parent-teacher events. The subtle cues in his body language, the nervous weight-shifting from one leg to another, and the intermittent hand running through his styled hair, all suggest a discomfort that aligns with someone unaccustomed to such gatherings.

“Hi, I’m so sorry! I lost track of time while grading papers”, you greet him with a sheepish smile, closing the distance between you, “I hope I didn’t let you wait for too long?”

He turns around, and you involuntarily suck in a breath, an immediate heat spreading across your cheeks when his gaze meets yours.

He’s handsome.

Bright blue eyes, reminiscent of a cloudless sky, reflect the ambient light in the hallway, exuding a unique vibrancy. His high forehead suggests intellect, complemented by a straight nose that adds a touch of refinement to his features. Thin, defined lips curve with an understated confidence, leaving an indelible impression. His well-groomed hair, mostly obedient, frames his face, yet there's an artful disarray - a few wayward locks that seem to defy the meticulous order. 

He instantly breaks into a bright smile that reveals a set of perfect, white teeth and causes the skin next to his eyes to crinkle with an infectious warmth.

“Hi, it’s no problem. I was early anyway,” he reassures you with a friendly, soft tone.

You can practically feel his eyes raking over your form and some part of you desperately hopes that he likes what he sees. He embodies one of the terribly handsome dads that you and your colleagues will talk about in the future. You’re sure that he turned quite a few heads coming in.

With another smile, you turn toward the door, unlocking it with a practised ease. Gesturing for him to enter, you open the gateway to your office, inviting him in.

Closing the door behind him, you discreetly seize the opportunity to check out his ass. 

He patiently waits for you to finish your task before extending his hand.

“I’m Patrick Wilson, by the way. I’m here because of my son,” he states, properly introducing himself.

You take his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his firm handshake, a physical reflection of the confident presence he exudes. 

As the name resonates, you recall Patrick Wilson’s son. The mental fog lifts, revealing a memory of a nice and quiet kid excelling in your class.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wilson. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?” you inquire.

“Please,” he says, accompanied by another of his infectious smiles and a playful wink, “And Patrick is fine.” 

“So, I’m sorry to ask, Patrick, but I am curious…” you begin, and he looks at you intently, one eyebrow raised in anticipation, “You’ve never been at a parent-teacher night as far as I can tell... so why now? Is everything alright with your son?”

“Alright,” you giggle, caught off guard by the unexpected lightness he brings to the interaction. A momentary realisation hits you – he even made you giggle. 

God, get a grip.

“Oh, oh yes,” he scratches his head, running his hand through his hair with a smile directed at you, “Normally his mother attends these… but since we split up, I just wanted to make sure he’s okay.”

Shit , you think, a sudden understanding dawning on you. Not only did you bring up a personal topic, but you did it with a lack of sensitivity. 

“I’m so sorry, Patrick! I didn't mean to be inconsiderate,” you express genuine remorse colouring your words. 

The sincerity of your apology reflects the understanding that you unintentionally touched upon a sensitive matter. He seems like a nice guy, and his child is genuinely a sweetheart, making the inadvertent misstep all the more regrettable.

Patrick makes a reassuring gesture with his hand, “Don’t mention it, it's fine—we just weren't compatible anymore.” 

His understanding response eases the tension, but you can't shake off the lingering discomfort from your unintentional insensitivity. Despite his graciousness, the awareness of being a dick lingers, leaving you with a sense of regret.

“Let me get you that coffee, Patrick,” you suggest, gracefully redirecting the conversation. Making your way to the coffee machine in the room, you seize the opportunity to shift focus.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” you hear him say, his steps echoing behind you with a hint of sincerity. 

You instantly stop in your tracks and turn around, catching Patrick off guard and causing him to collide with you.

His hand instinctively grabs into your waist, steadying you, you’re enveloped in his clean and fresh scent that lingers in the air. It’s a captivating aroma, reminiscent of the sea breeze on a crisp morning. The subtle notes of a light, refreshing cologne mingle with a hint of oceanic elements, creating a fragrance that is both invigorating and oddly comforting.

“Sorry,” Patrick murmurs, his face inches from yours, his breath brushing against your cheek.

“It’s okay,” you reply, breath catching as his fingers briefly tighten. Your gaze traces from his eyes to his lips and back up.

Nervously, you gulp at the close proximity, feeling a subtle tension in the air. Wetting your lips, you sense his eyes following the movement of your tongue. The touch of his large hands still lingers, a residual warmth seeping through your shirt, leaving a searing imprint that adds to the charged atmosphere between you.

“You didn't - it’s fine. I just didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything and felt that a coffee might be what we both needed,” you explain, stumbling over your words. 

He nods in response and takes a step back. Instantly, you find yourself missing the warmth of his touch, a subtle yearning lingering in the aftermath of the unexpectedly close encounter.

You turn your back to him, attempting to compose yourself and switch on the coffee maker. It’s a proper barista machine, a deliberate investment made some time ago to make the longer hours spent in your office more bearable. The rattling of the machine reverberates loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

“How do you take your coffee, Patrick?” you inquire, attempting to shift the focus to casual small talk as you turn around to face him. It’s a subtle effort to smooth over the residual nerves lingering from the unexpected closeness a moment ago.

He embodies the epitome of cool and collected, casually leaning against the wall in the middle of your office. The ease with which he carries himself creates a visual snapshot, a moment you'd capture if you had a camera, as he appears as though he just stepped out of a magazine. 

“Oh, just a dash of milk, please. No sugar,” he smiles at you, pursing his lips in an adorable way. 

“Milk is in the fridge behind you,” you say, pointing at the small fridge. Turning back to the machine, you proceed to pour both him and yourself a cup of coffee.

After a few moments, you turn around again purely on autopilot to retrieve the milk from the fridge.

What you did not expect was Patrick’s strong chest colliding with yours again. He had just taken the milk from the fridge and intended to bring it over to you.

The sudden impact causes the freshly brewed hot coffee to spill over. It hits your hands, searing them with a sharp pain. A pained yelp escapes your lips, you involuntarily release the mugs. They shatter on the floor, adding a chaotic note to the unfolding moment as you clutch your burning arm.

Patrick's eyes widen in shock as he observes the aftermath of the spilled coffee, freezing momentarily in place. It's only a brief pause before he snaps into action, his apology filled with genuine concern.

“Oh god, I’m so, so sorry,” he utters, his voice laced with remorse.

Moving gently towards you, his eyes remain fixed on yours, a mix of shock and worry evident in the depths of his gaze.

“Let me see,” he coaxes, reaching for your hand.

Despite the pain shooting through your arm, his touch is surprisingly gentle, the warmth of his fingers a stark contrast to the burning sensation. As he holds your hand, the close proximity causes goosebumps to erupt all over your body, a physical reaction to the unexpected intimacy of the moment. Your hand, seemingly small in his, accentuates the vulnerability that has unfolded in the aftermath of the accidental mishap.

He holds your hand gently, his fingers trailing over the burned skin with feather-light touches. His eyes remain locked onto yours, the connection is unbroken. The tenderness in his touch offers a contrast to the pain. 

“We should cool it,” he says quietly, his blue eyes intently staring at yours. 

Despite the throbbing pain in your hand and arm, an unexpected sense of peace washes over you. Patrick’s gentle care and his big hands on yours feel surprisingly right, creating a moment you don’t want to end.

You find yourself imagining those large hands cupping your naked breasts, rolling your nipples between strong fingers, teasing and twisting and pulling just a little too hard. You can imagine the look on his face too, that concentrated expression, with furrowed brows and pursed lips, dedicated to the task at hand.

Struggling to regain composure amid the pain and the magnetic pull towards Patrick, you concede.

“You're right,” still savouring the comfort of his gentle strokes, “Some cold water may help”

He nods in agreement, his eyes shifting from your hand to meet yours, “Lead the way.”

“You don't have to…” you trail off. While it’s kind of him to offer assistance and accompany you, you convey that it isn't necessary.

Instead of arguing, you surrender to the sincerity of Patrick's offer, a subtle nod expressing your acceptance of his assistance.

“I want to,” he insists, his expression serious. 

“It’s the least I can do…” Patrick says, his remorse evident. The warmth inside you grows, appreciating his genuine care despite the unintended hurt.

As you navigate towards the door, Patrick silently trails your steps. The subtle echo of his presence resonates in the corridor. Exiting your office, the two of you proceed towards the bathrooms. You can feel his proximity, a comforting closeness that extends beyond mere physical presence.

Patrick, without uttering a word, places his hand on the small of your lower back. It’s a gentle yet firm touch, a constant reminder that he's right there, steadfastly supporting you. The warmth from his touch permeates, creating a silent connection between the two of you. 

Arriving at the bathroom, you open the door, and your eyes catch Patrick standing there, uncertain. The moment hangs in the air as he seems unsure of the next move.

“Can you come with?” 

The request lingers in the air, wrapped in a delicate vulnerability that you allow to seep into your words.

“I don’t want to be alone in case I faint or fall.”

Patrick nods understandingly and opens the door for you, his hand gently guiding you with a reassuring touch on your lower back. As the door closes behind you two, you realise you’re in the typical school bathroom. Under ordinary circumstances, you might have opted for the private restroom reserved for teachers. Yet, in the current moment, with only a few parents and teachers lingering in the school, the distinction seems inconsequential and you're sure that you won’t run into someone you know.

That’s a half-truth. You’re veiling the fact that your injuries aren’t severe enough to induce fainting. 

Yet, there's a subtle comfort in the notion of having him by your side. It’s not just about the potential physical support - you want him to accompany you to get to know him a bit more.

The bathroom is illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that reflect off the white-tiled walls. The atmosphere is surprisingly calm, creating a stark contrast to the heightened emotions of the previous moments. Patrick’s continued presence provides an anchor, his hand still resting on your lower back, a gesture that feels oddly comforting in this ordinary yet intimate setting.

You stand at the sink, rolling up your sleeves, and let the cold water cascade over your burned hand and arm. The stinging pain intensifies, pulsating with each beat of your heart. Examining it closely, you notice red patches forming, and it looks like there might be blisters beginning to emerge. Despite the discomfort, you continue to let the cold water offer some relief.

As you stand there, you can't help but entertain a fleeting thought. Perhaps there could have been a better way to spend the evening than standing in this school bathroom, cooling your injury under a tap.

“You doing okay there?" Patrick’s melodic voice breaks through your thoughts. Your head snaps to him, and the sudden movement makes you wobble, momentarily losing your balance. 

The image of Patrick in that damn wool sweater crosses your mind, and for a moment, you think about just taking it off him and about how that would lead to a much more enjoyable evening.

However, with a sigh, you push the thought aside, focusing on the practicality of treating the burn in the present situation.

He notices you are off-balance instantly, and he comes over to stand behind you, steadying you with a supportive touch. As you look at both of you in the mirror, you can't help but feel a sense of contrast. In his presence, you seem small, almost dwarfed by him, his large form surrounding you.

You sway a bit against him, feeling the steadying comfort of Patrick’s arms wrapping around you as soon as he notices.

“This is surprisingly effective,” you comment, a small chuckle escaping your lips. 

As you rest in the circle of his arms, you become acutely aware of the heat emanating from his body, the solid warmth of his broad chest against your back. You can’t help but feel arousal pooling in your veins, slowly but steadily spreading through your body.

With a playful tone, Patrick responds, “Well, I aim to provide top-notch steadying services.”

“You got a talent for it, Patrick,” you quip, enjoying the warmth of the embrace.

He chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest against your back, “Well, it’s all in the technique. A mix of charm and muscle, you know?”

“Ah, the secret recipe. I appreciate both elements,” you play along and you do appreciate both, they make an intoxicating mix. And if you’re honest your fingertips tingle to trace them over his mentioned muscles - over his hard chest that you feel rising and falling with every breath, over his strong arms that are wrapped around you.

His tone becomes a tad more serious, his arms tightening around you protectively, “In all seriousness, are you feeling alright? That burn looks like it stings.”

You nod, “Yeah, it does, but your impromptu rescue mission is definitely helping.”

He grins, “Glad to be of service.”

You can’t help but admire Patrick’s attractive smile. It’s something you’ve noticed before, but now, in the reflection of the mirror, you find yourself truly appreciating the genuine charm it holds. The interplay of his features, the crinkling at the edges of his eyes, the sparkling of his blue eyes like light falling onto a smooth water surface … it all adds an extra layer of warmth to the embrace.

Caught up in the moment you rub your ass against him, wanting to know if he feels that spark too.

His only reaction is a sharp intake of breath when you brush over his groin but nothing that indicates discomfort. 

So you do it again, harder this time, feeling him hardening against your ass.

Patrick tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer. In the reflection of the mirror, you find his gaze and fuck, you like what you see. 

His eyes, once soft blue, have deepened into a more intense shade, revealing a hint of desire beneath the furrowed brows. The subtle play of light and shadow casts a captivating look on his face, where concentration blends with a dark allure. His lips have curved in a half smile, a mix of amusement and something more primal.

Patrick rubs his nose against the side of your face and breathes in, before sucking at the sensitive spot under your ear.

Your knees buckle and you realise that you're held upright by his steady grip on you.

“You know you could have just asked… no need to spill coffee and injure yourself,” Patrick murmurs against the back of your neck, his voice low enough that the slight growl of it vibrates against your skin.

Then his mouth is on yours.

Hot, heavy, heady, like you could get drunk off his kiss. You return it with the same intensity as you feel arousal crashing through your veins the sting of your hand long forgotten. 

A happy murmur escapes him, reverberating through you low and dark when he notices your enthusiastic response. Immediately you feel the need to hear it again, so you move a hand under his sweater, the warmth of his muscular chest against your palm ignites the fire in you. 

All logic and reason is gone when you dig your nails into his skin and he groans again, heavy against your lips.

Strong, hard fingers dig into the soft muscle as he devours you. You’re fairly sure that his grip will leave bruises and push harder against him. 

His hard cock feels big against you, you can’t help but wonder if you’d struggle to take all of him in your mouth.

While you know that there are at least four layers between you, his probably tight boxers and the blue jeans as well as your underwear and dress pants, it feels immaterial. Like he would just be able to push inside you with one hard stroke.

You end the kiss gasping for air, both breathing heavily and you take in the reflection in the mirror.

Would he try to push three of those thick fingers inside your cunt? To edge on that boundary of pleasure of pain before withdrawing and going back to two.

The hand on your hip that is digging so deliciously into your flesh is flexed and you swallow thickly, noting the long fingers.

You wonder if he was able to fit two inside you, making sure you were ready for all of him because evident by his hard dick pressing into the low of your back, Patrick is no small man.

Patrick keeps his eyes locked on yours as he slips on hand under your shirt, making sure that you’re fine with it. When he registers no opposition from you, he places his hand on your breast, touching it through your bra.

His finger rubs over your nipple, eliciting a quiet moan from you as it feels like electricity shoots from your breast to your pussy. Involuntarily, your free hand finds the edge of the counter to grip something as your other hand digs into the hard muscles of his back. He squeezes them again, before letting his hand wander underneath your bra, pulling the cups down, so he can reach your boobs easier. 

Patrick’s palm cups your naked tits and you feel the rough, warm skin of his strong hands. You can’t help but bite your lips when his fingers run over your nipple in an almost lazy gesture. 

You push back against the hard swell of his cock in an attempt to also give him some friction or motivate him to touch you more. 

Apparently, it works because he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, moving back and forth until they are stiff, before squeezing his fingers together roughly. You moan and arch your back, pushing into his hands at the sudden roughness that just touched that border of pain that you like. 

He pulls your head back to kiss you deeply. His tongue curves gently into your mouth and runs over the edge of your lip, coaxing you to flick your tongue against him. You lean fully into the kiss, deepening it even further. 

With one last flick on your nipples, he slides his hands out of your top and breaks the kiss. His hands find the hem of your shirt. 

“This okay?”  his voice is rough and deeper, clearly affected by the situation, His eyes are bright and questioning as he looks at you in the reflection, waiting for a response. 

You nod breathlessly - to be honest you’ll be fine with whatever he does to you at this point. But the way he smiles and presses a quick kiss to your neck almost makes you swoon.

Patrick pulls the shirt up and off over your head, leaving you in only your bra is already pulled down to reveal your breasts.

For a split second, you wonder if he may not like what he sees but they melt away when you see the barely constrained heat and desire in his eyes as he licks his lips unconsciously. He runs his palms over your back, arms, and neck before bringing you back for a kiss while undoing your bra and sliding it off you.

You tug on his sweater, telling him wordlessly to take it off, something you have itched to do since you’ve first seen him. He obliges, pulls it over his head and you’re left with Patrick Wilson shirtless. A breath hitches in your throat as you take him in - a broad chest, muscular, dusted with hair, and a prominent line going down over his stomach.

You sense that you aren’t the only one who is eager to finally see what you only felt earlier.

He engulfs you again from behind, reclaiming your mouth into a kiss. You close your eyes to relish the feeling of his hot, hard, and bare chest on your back. 

Patrick plants new open-mouthed kisses down the edge of your throat and neck, leaving brightly coloured marks in his wake. With each nibble and soft scraping of his teeth against your skin, you feel yourself getting wetter, the fabric of your underwear getting slicker. 

Your eyes flutter closed when he runs his hand over your collarbone to cup one of your tits in his big palm, every touch of his fingers setting your nerves alight with blazing desire. 

Patrick squeezes your breast deliberately, weighing it in his hand. You can feel his gaze on you, watching you, seizing your every reaction to his ministrations. Wanting to see him, you open your eyes and lick your lips breathlessly as you take him in. His eyes are heavy-lidded and the soft blue has given way to the blackness of his pupil. You watch his hand grope your body, mesmerised by the ripple of his muscles and the map of veins on his arms. 

He lets go of your tit and places his hand on your sternum, fingers sprawled out to touch as much of you as possible and keep you upright as you feel your knees buckle a bit with his burning touch and tenderness while his other hand continues to explore your body, moving downwards.

His hand massages the inside of your thigh, drawing lazy circles and patterns before his strong fingers edge closer to your cunt. You can’t help but whimper when he trails his forefinger over the seam of your crotch. 

“Needy,” he groans into your ear, hot breath fanning over it. 

He has the nerve to shoot you a wink and a lopsided grin before he increases the pressure and repeats the motion. Your head falls back against his shoulder and you grind against his hard cock again. You’re pretty sure that he has to be able to feel the dampness seeping through the material of your pants.  

A hiss escapes you when he uses the tip of his finger to gently rub over your clit and part of you is amazed that he manages to find it even through your pants. Your mind is blissfully blank, nothing is relevant and existing except the warmth radiating from Patrick’s broad body behind you and the wonderful feeling of his finger on your clothed cunt and clit. 

You arch against him, pushing your ass into his covered cock. A jolt of pleasure courses through you as you hear him moan lowly against your ear. His eyes flutter closed and his jaw is slack in arousal as he rubs his dick against you. 

You don’t think you have seen him look more beautiful today.

Unbeknownst to you, the words escape your lips, and a redness fans over your cheeks when you notice Patrick’s eyes opening, warmth evident in them. His lips curve into a sweet, shy smile, and the blush that creeps to cover his chest only enhances his handsomeness.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, his voice carrying a blend of sincerity and quiet delight before capturing your lips in a slow kiss.

His hand shifts against your hip, edging into the waistband of your pants as his fingers dance over the bare skin before he hooks them into the seam and drags both your pants and underwear down over your ass.

When his fingers trail over your bare cunt you let out a whimper and buck into his hand, desperate for him to give you more.

Patrick captures your mouth again in a wet kiss, biting down on your bottom lip just as he slips one of his thick fingers into your wet pussy. He swallows the moan that escapes you and you feel his cock twitching against your ass.

Suddenly, you are aching to touch him more too, to tease him in the same way he drives you insane. So you reach behind you to free his dick from his jeans. 

His stomach muscles tense when you graze them softly with your nails. With your gaze trailed on him in the mirror you watch his reaction to you. His lips are parted and his eyes are watching you intensely, his finger thrusting shallowly into your cunt, not going deeper than the first knuckle. 

Impatient you tug at his jeans and boxer shorts, pulling them down to expose his cock. Your fingers curl around him instantly, eliciting a deep and feral sound from Patrick that makes your whole body tingle. He feels hot and heavy inside your hand and you were right with your previous assumption - he is big. You move your hand over the length of him, swiping your thumb over the head to add to the stimulation.

Patrick moves his hand, so he can use the ball of his hand to rub against your clit, making you gasp sharply. 

Finally , he adds another finger and pushes them in completely, You mewl, bucking against his hand as you enjoy the way his thick fingers feel inside you, deliciously stretching you. 

You pick up the pace, letting your hand glide over his cock faster and he retaliates. 

Patrick thrusts into you faster and you whimper when the edge of his palm meets your sensitive clit hard. The wet sound of him fucking your cunt with his fingers is loud in the otherwise quiet room. When he curls his fingers inside of you, you stop jerking him off. Both of your hands come to grip the edge of the counter, overwhelmed by the sensations. 

Your mind is void of thoughts only the feeling of Patrick’s hard, hot body behind you and his thick fingers inside your pussy persist.

A loud moan falls from your lips when he adds another finger. Three of his strong, long fingers are pushing into you, feeling almost too big as the stretch is bordering on uncomfortable. With every thrust, you whine breathlessly as you grind into his hand. 

Patrick only fucks your cunt a few times with three fingers before switching back to two that feel just perfect now. His palm still provides friction on your clit, slowly but steadily leading you to your high. 

You whine when he pulls his hand back, “Please, Patrick -”

“I love it when you say my name,” he groans and nips at your neck before he taps your lips with his fingers, prompting you to open your eyes which you closed sometime during this as well as part your lips. Patrick pushes two of his slick fingers into your mouth, and the salty flavour of your pussy settles on your tongue as you lick and suck on them.

His mouth is on you the second he withdraws his fingers, tasting you on your tongue. He murmurs something against your lips, raw and deep but your brain is too foggy to register the words.

More, you just want more. More of him, his fingers, his everything.

And it seems like Patrick has a similar idea because he grinds his hard cock against the lips of your cunt, coating himself in your wetness, nudging your sensitive clit in the process. 

You’re sure that you don’t breathe when he pushes forward slowly. Patrick’s head falls forwards onto your shoulder with a groan as he fills you. When he bottoms out, he stills, his fingers digging into your hips sharply when he lets you adjust.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” his voice is muffled by your shoulder but the dark, masculine edge to it sends shivers through your veins. 

Patrick lifts his head, pressing one lingering kiss to your shoulder, before catching your glaze in the reflection. He gives you a cheeky wink and pulls out only to slam back into you.

The drag of his cock over the slick walls of your cunt felt heavenly, hitting all the right spots and filling you to the brim. You push back against him to meet him for every hard stroke. As much as you want to keep quiet you just can’t.

In the reflection of the mirror, you watch the way his muscular arms bend and tense as well as the tightening of his abs whenever he thrusts inside you. You watch his cock plunging into your cunt, shining when he pulls back.

You clench around him, making him groan as he continues his fast pace. Patrick moves one hand from your hip to your clit, the pad of his fingers scraping over it softly, adding to the stimulation. You know that you’re close, the combination of everything adding up much quicker than normal.

The rhythmic clicking of heels echoes outside on the linoleum floor of the corridor and catches your attention. Initially uncertain if it's just your imagination, but Patrick gradually stills in his movements, causing an involuntary whine to escape you.

“Quiet”, he hisses, his head turning towards the door.

The clicking of heels draws nearer, and a sense of urgency tightens its grip on you. Your mind goes blank, leaving you unsure of what course of action to take and how to diffuse the compromising situation.

Patrick’s quick thinking kicks in with a fluidity that catches you off guard. In a deft movement, he seizes both your shirt and his pullover as he smoothly guides you backward, his cock slipping out of you. The urgency of the situation propels you both into a nearby toilet cabin, the door closing behind you with a hushed click.

The creak of the door opening sends a jolt of tension through you. Whoever was in the corridor has now entered the bathroom, and your hope intensifies that you both managed to grab everything in the hurried move to the cabin.

Patrick seems fairly sure of that as he takes a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, pulling you onto his lap with a seamless motion. The sound of the other person fades into the background as you take the opportunity to study him. Dark eyes, watching you intently, swollen lips, tousled curly hair, shirtless with sweat glistening on his broad chest and his cock still erect. 

Something short circuits in your brain as you take in the handsome man opposite you as you mumble under your breath, “Jesus Christ, Patrick” and you feel the undeniable urge to taste him, feel him, and touch him. 

You let your fingers brush through his hair, scraping your nails over his scalp as you completely mess up the neat styling of his curls. In the back of your head, you note, that his hair is pleasingly soft to the touch.

Patrick in turn grabs the back of your head, pulling you into him to claim you in a kiss. It is soft and easy, his tongue slipping into your mouth to nudge his. 

He pulls back with dark eyes and drips his head to whisper into your ear, “You gotta say quiet, can you do that?”

Almost as if on cue you hear the other person in the bathroom entering a cabin.

And Patrick lifts you as if you weigh nothing and angles his cock before pulling you down on it. When he fills you completely and unexpectedly you cannot fully suppress the quiet moan that spills over your lips. 

You instantly bite down on your lip, afraid that you were heard but nothing happens and Patrick doesn’t seem to be worried by it. 

He thrusts shallowly into you while keeping his eyes firm on yours.

You feel like it’s all too much and not enough at once. The stretch of his dick inside you is just perfect, he feels deeper in this angle. You can’t help but roll your hips on him, desperate for more - even if you’re not sure what this more is. 

Patrick cups your face and pushes your hair out of the way before looking into your eyes and pulling you into a deep kiss. You moan into his mouth when he thrusts upwards hard a few times. 

He pulls back to whisper into your eyes, each word accompanied by a stroke of his dick, “It turns you on, doesn’t it? That they could just catch us…”

You clench around him because yes it turns you on beyond belief and he hoarsely chuckles. 

You’re afraid that the other person will hear you with every sound you make and that you can’t suppress. You concentrate on the feeling of him inside you. How his body radiates an impossible amount of warmth, how he seems to surround you completely, and how he fills you entirely.

Desperate to also make it harder for him to suppress his sounds you start trailing kisses from his mouth over his jaw, subtle stubble prickling against your lips. You feel him swallow thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing. His fingers around your hips tighten, bruising your skin and making you whimper.

The other person seems to have left the cabin since you hear water running, you were so preoccupied you didn’t hear them flushing or unlocking the door.

Patrick’s fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you back to speak in a hushed voice again, “Do you want us to be caught? Do you want them to find me balls deep inside your cunt?”

You shake your head, no you don’t want them to know what Patrick’s doing to you. The consequences would be catastrophic. You’re supposed to tell him how his sons doing in your class, not letting him destroy you in a public bathroom. 

“No, I don’t. But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you manage to grind out lowly and breathlessly. 

A sound deep in his chest rumbles and he cradles your face in his hands again to kiss you heatedly.

Finally, you hear the door. You’re alone again.

Patrick heard it too, because he gives you another searing kiss before thrusting hard, eliciting a moan from you. You hear the wet sounds of your cunt around his dick as he drives into you in earnest. His hand comes to rest on your clit, rubbing circles, desperate to make you cum now.

You bite your lip and watch the tensing of his muscles whenever he drives into you with purpose his gaze however is trailed on your pussy, looking at how his dick disappears into it.

You clench around him as Patrick brings you closer and closer, each time his dick hits that spot inside you, and his thumb brushes over your clit. He catches your breast in his mouth, sucking on your nipple, adding to the stimulation. 

Overwhelmed by the sensations you bury your hand in his hair, pulling on it as arousal clashes through your veins, the telltale throbbing between your thighs intensifying. Patrick groans under you and you feel his thighs quivering as well as his thrusts getting sloppy, losing their piercing rhythm. Every thought on your mind is now occupied by the sensation of being filled again and again by Patrick’s hard, thick cock that scrapes the walls of your cunt just perfectly as well as the sound of your hips slapping together. 

“Come for me, on my cock,” he grinds out and brings his hand down on your ass hard, rubbing the pinked skin afterwards.

The combined sensation of the pain and the pleasure Patrick is providing you steers you higher and higher until you heed his words and come apart. 

Fire crashes through your veins, burning you from the inside as the sensations flow through you. Everything feels more heightened for a moment, his cock, his fingers, his body - just all that is him surrounds you and lifts you up. 

You dig your fingers into his neck, half-frantic as you anchor yourself to him while the waves of your orgasm wash over you. 

You dully note how you clench around him, making him groan loudly under you as he continues to keep you on your high.

After a few sloppy, hard thrusts you feel his cock pulsing inside you when Patrick comes with hoarse a mumble of your name on his lips, filling you with his cum. He presses his hips flush against you, grinding into you as he releases as deep as possible, letting his eyes fall closed, his long lashes resting on his cheekbones.

As soon as he stills, you slump against him, fitting your forehead against his, closing your eyes. Just breathing and coming down from your high.

Patrick’s warm hand cradles your cheek, coaxing you to open your eyes.

“Hi,” the word comes out as a whisper.

“Hi,” he echoes, his words carrying a soft smile as he leans in. His lips meet yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss that seems to suspend time for a fleeting moment.

As the kiss concludes, you take in the sight of him and he looks just as spent as you feel. His disheveled hair bears the evidence of your fingers running through it, the neatly combed curls now messy. A glistening layer of sweat highlights his features in the bathroom’s subdued light. But Patrick's eyes remain bright and alive, their soft shade of blue reminiscent of the calming sea. A radiant and genuine smile is etched onto his face as he looks at you. 

You stand up with shaky legs and his cock slips out of you, leaving you empty. You feel his cum oozing out of your cunt and reach for some toilet paper to clean yourself up. 

“Don’t bother,” Patrick says, catching your wrist and blocking you from grabbing the paper. You give him a confused look but he simply gathers your combined fluids on his fingers and pushes them back inside you, “We’re not finished yet and I want you to feel what I have done to you. I want you to think of me - of the mess I’ve made”

You can’t suppress a moan at the combination of his words and his thick fingers thrusting inside your overstimulated, used cunt a few times. 

He pulls his fingers out and hooks them into your underwear to put them on you properly again.

“I want you to feel me with every step today, to feel my cum coat you,” Patrick’s blue eyes are intense on you, making you understand the meaning behind his words as he stands up, “If you are good I’ll fill you up again later, sweetheart.”

He bows down to grab your pants, pulls them up, and closes them. The intimate gesture causes heat to bloom on your cheeks, it is rather sweet that he helps you dress again so you want to return to favor.

With that he kisses you again, devouring you hungrily. You can’t help but respond and wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer so he engulfs you completely. 

You separate breathlessly and he tightens his arms around you to press a kiss on your hair before losing his hold and stepping back. 

Without a word you sink down to your knees again and grab his cock, causing him to hiss and look at you. It transforms into a low groan when you wrap your mouth around him, tasting the combination of both your releases. 

“Fuck,” Patrick curses roughly, one hand tangling into your hair as you swirl your tongue around him to clean him.

You release him from your mouth when you’re satisfied and tuck him back into his underwear before pulling up his pants. As soon as you stand again, he pulls you in for another short, deep kiss.

Patrick breaks the kiss and reaches for your bra and shirt, handing it to you before grabbing his sweater. You clasp your bra and pull the shirt over your head as does he.

Part of you is sad that he is dressed again, you quite enjoyed seeing him shirtless but you can’t deny that he looks delicious in that damn wool sweater.

Patrick leans in for another sweet kiss, his lips pressing gently against yours. His palm cradles your cheek, and the rhythmic strokes of his thumb create a soothing caress, a silent reassurance that lingers in the air.

As he cautiously opens the cabin door, his eyes sweep the interior, ensuring that the coast is clear before giving you a wink and stepping out. The dim light of the bathroom casts a warm glow on his features, and you can't help but notice the subtle sparkle in his bright blue eyes.

With deliberate care, Patrick fixes his disheveled hair in the mirror, raking his fingers through it to comb it back again. Mesmerized, you watch as he restores his hair to its previous order, each stroke a deliberate motion that reminds you of how capable his stronger fingers are and you clench your thighs, feeling the sticky residue of his cum.

You gather your messy hair into a ponytail, not being able to do more with it or detangle it properly since you don’t have a brush with you. In the light of the bathroom you see the purple marks on your neck and let your finger run over it deliberately. 

Taking stock of your appearance, you gather your messy hair into a makeshift ponytail, unable to do much more without a brush to detangle it properly. In the soft light of the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of purple marks on your neck and let your fingers deliberately trace over them. 

Feeling Patrick’s gaze on you, you ask, “Proud of yourself?” Pulling down the neckline of your shirt to inspect your collarbones and upper chest, you openly display the marks left by him.

Patrick grins in response, wide and toothy, and his eyes twinkle mischievously, “I’d say that I’m sorry, but I think we’re pretty much even.” 

He playfully rolls down the top of his turtleneck to reveal the little indents your teeth left on the juncture of his neck.

“You can be glad you don't wear a t-shirt under your sweater because I’d have stolen the sweater,” you muse, prompting a melodic laugh from Patrick and you find that you quite like it, “But I think I have a scarf in my office.”

“Well then, shall we?” Patrick gestures toward the bathroom door leading to the hallway. He opens it and guides you out with a reassuring hand at the small of your back.

[piratewinzer]

This season is insane. They cat-girled Edward Teach and it's somehow not the only single thing occupying my brain. They put a literal collar and bell on him and I still have other things to think about, somehow.

[blueskittlesart]

oh so THAT’S what you guys meant about persona 4.

[takkamek]

one thing that seems to prevalent in almost any lestappen fanfic is that ferrari doesn't care about charles, and that fred especially is made to be this villain, and its just... maybe people just don't know because they weren't around in 2022, or maybe they just forgot, but things were bad in ferrari in 2022 to the point where charles threatened to leave because of the bad management--and ferrari scrambled to keep him. they fired binotto (the tp) and a bunch of the staff (like head strategist) because of charles, they got fred because he and charles were on good terms, the team is literally being build around charles.

i don't immediately dislike the fanfic if ferrari is the antagonist of the story (but some reason rbr isn't lmao), i just think it's strange that ferrari is always the big bad guy

[countess-of-edessa]

scrolling through novena after novena choosing which saints i think would be most receptive to my frivolous little interpersonal problems

[theladyhibiscus]

Not me as somebody who crochets on the reg getting criticisms/unwanted comments about everything I make:

"You always use the same colors" :/

Me: can't help it I'm a thalassophile and therefore I must always use beige, khaki, turquoise, teal, aqua blues, whites of all shades. Let the coastal creations commence!

"Nice bag. You know, that looks perfect to use only for holidays like Easter"

Me: ...my coastal bag is to be used every time I feel like it. What are you talking about.

"Those oceanic colors don't match with your current outfit so don't use it."

Me: it's not about what looks nice TO YOU but what feels right and fun to use FOR ME.

"Why don't you add (whatever) to your creation. It'd look great if you add (whatever). And, how about next time, you actually use a leather bag bottom instead?"

Me: I don't want to.

"You sure can't take a comment or a slight criticism. Why are you like this?" :/

Me: you sure can't mind your business.

"Why are you doing 2 projects at once. Finish one and start the other I don't get it."

Me: oh you sweet summer child ohohoho...you just don't understand the mind of a crocheter do ya?

"You know, if you make something for somebody it sure won't be coastal themed or whatever. You have to try something different."

Me: who said I'm making anyone ANYTHING? They don't want to pay the correct price for a hand-made creation so that won't be happening. Anyway, ONTO THE COASTAL THEMED SCARF!