#patrick zweig x reader

[tht1989girl]

no cause why are they litteraly them

[jesuistrestriste]

You have no idea how much i need pastors son patrick. I WOULD SELL MY SKIN FOR HIM

he’s just so cute.. he can’t resist the urge to grab you by your hips and paw at your lower back and mouth messily at your jaw and neck, mumbling words like “please” and “it’ll be so quick” and “god doesn’t have to know.. we can keep it a secret..”

but the shame and guilt keeps him up at night, and he can no longer look his dad in the eye. his dull gaze always stuck to the wooden floorboards of the church when his father is at the front, speaking to the masses. he shakes away the thoughts of your hand on his thigh, your mouth on his cock, your fingers tangled in the thin chain around his neck that holds the cross while he puts it in you for the first time. a strangled, reverent moan being let out into your shoulder to tell the heavens that he’s lost himself in your body.

[girliism]

2019!patrick being a power bottom fucking need that omg

“fuck, is that all you got?” patrick pushed back trying to take you deeper and harder than what he was getting. his next words “fuck me like you mean it.” had you pulling out and flipping him on to his back. “like this?” you pressed his thighs to chest and thrusted in and out. “harder.” he moaned. your hips slapped against his, the tip of your strap beating against his prostate. “shit, gonna cum.” his voice heightening at the end. “touch me.” he yanked the hand resting by his head down to his cock. you gripped him and jerked it in time with your thrust. pressing the tip of your finger on the head of his cock, and pressed down. it sent patrick over the edge, his orgasm rushing through him and painted his abs. “you did good.” he reached up to pull you down for a kiss. the scruff of his beard scratched your face a little.

[jordiemeow]

other side of patrick choking?

warnings: 18+ smut, riding, choking

Patrick loves choking. Patrick loves to be choked.

He's freaky as hell! Doesn't matter what position you're in. If your arm is within reach, he will be guiding your hand around his throat. You can physically feel the way he grunts with effort, that little vibration and his Adam's apple bobbing under your loose grip. Can't even cum properly unless you squeeze properly. If he can still breathe, you aren't doing it right.

The first time it happens you're riding him, head tipped back as you grind down onto his cock. But it's Patrick so it doesn't take long until his hands find your hips in an attempt to guide your movement, bucking his hips up to meet you each time you rock down. But sometimes you just want to set the pace without him trying to take over.

"Patrick, stop it."

"C'mon, baby, just lemme—"

"No."

And then your hand is around his throat and he doesn't even remember why he's insisting in the first place. His eyes are wide, shocked by the gesture, and you repeat yourself and squeeze harder. "I said no. Do you understand me?

He almost climaxes then and there. He manages a jerky nod of his head in affirmation, hands sliding back down to rest on your thighs. And then every time you're riding him after that, he's the one putting your hand there. Begs you to do it and tells you he's been craving it all week. He applies pressure over the top with his own to make your grip is firm enough to cause discomfort, eyes rolled back and moaning as you sink down onto him. He's practically drooling every time your fingers tighten in sync with the way your cunt clenches around his cock.

And the entire time he's whining pathetically, "harder. Harder."

Ironic. It's normally you crying that out.

[coolgrl111]

Ok….. coach Patrick….. 💬😏

mhm…yum

coach!patrick x reader

[1sab4lla]

new ; patrick zweig

you were something patrick had never thought to experience before. you were new. soft, and delicate. you were a breath of fresh air. he was used to rough, calloused skin. harshness. but you? fragile.

he’d never believed in god, or religion, for that matter, but you? temptation on a fucking stick. he’d begrudgingly sat at a pew on easter, bored out of his mind. it was a yearly occurrence. easter and christmas were reserved for church, as if it would make up for the other fifty sunday’s they missed at the grimly chapel.

then, he saw you. you quite literally looked like an angel, with your white dress (almost reaching your ankles, mind you). he immediately sat a bit straighter, eyes scanning your figure. you wore a sweet smile, your cross necklace dangling off your pretty neck, as a reminder that you were pure.

preacher’s daughter, it seemed.

you were greeting the congregation, handing out bracelets that tied into the message somehow, occasionally letting a god bless you fall from your lips. when you’d reached him and his family, he only stared. wide eyed, a crooked grin on his lips.

“good morning, god bless you!” you chirped, handing him a bracelet. your fingers brushed against his. and just like that, the moment was gone. you’d turned to the next family, keeping that grin on your face as you continued handing out the bracelets.

god.

he continued staring, his gaze trailing after you. his father made a point to turn in his seat, flashing a pointed look. “best behavior, son.” and patrick only rolled his eyes, and shrugged, feigning innocence. he watched you weave through the church, his gaze lingering on your figure as you weaved away. the way you moved, it was almost like you were floating.

what could he say? he’d always been a sucker for pretty eyes. you’d eventually sat at a pew in the front, next to your family. flashing your daddy a pretty smile, before he stood up and walked to the pulpit, setting his bible down and beginning to preach.

patrick had been staring the whole time. not even listening to what your dad was saying—he could care less. you’d piqued his interest. the way you stared wide eyed at your dad, as if hanging onto his every word. you seemed to know every book in the bible by heart, and were the first to clap.

well, he was most definitely some kind of sadist.

[catharticconsolation]

challengers social media au/fic idea where patrick and reader both live in a small town. they're both lonely losers but patrick in a fuck up kind of way and reader's the opposite. both their families suck. they start hanging out for whaterver reason and maybe they're reluctant/ moody about it but then also like they both have someone that cares about them for the first time.

loser!patrick zweig x loser!reader

this ask was sent in so long ago, but i thought it was perfect for the anniversary. i really took the loser best friends part and ran.

[happenssweet]

⌂ music for a sushi restaurant | patrick zweig

➥ assistant coach x student teacher

⌂ late night talking | art donaldson

➥ long distance during tournaments

⌂ grapejuice | tashi duncan

➥ this summer's protégé (CMBYN au)

⌂ as it was | tashi duncan

➥ post injury depression

⌂ daylight | art tashi patrick

➥ groupie!user

⌂ little freak | tashi duncan

➥ post break-up party encounter

⌂ matilda | art and patrick

➥ patrick comes home after being sent away

⌂ cinema | art donaldson

➥ art can't keep his hands to himself

⌂ daydreaming | patrick zweig

➥ camboy!patrick

⌂ keep driving | art donaldson

➥ stormy weather hits your relationship

⌂ satellite | patrick zweig

➥ post-breakup drinking

⌂ boyfriends | patrick zweig

➥ cheater

⌂ love of my life | art donaldson

➥ consequences of fame

notes:

happy challengersversary!!

i love love love this album and i hope you guys love love love these bots

if any of them are acting funky... lmk. been having some issues on my part with getting a few to behave

i think it would be fair to expect the riff release next!

this is my first time adding little descriptions for bots - i would love some feedback! make them longer, get rid of them, whatever you think!

[artsangell]

Thinking about being tashi's dorm mate and helping her destress after she loses a match...

The door to your shared dorm room is opened so aggressively you worry the hinges will fall right off. Tashi slams her bag down, a frown so deep it's practically a scowl resting on her sweat sheened face. With a confused furrow in your brow you look up from your laptop worriedly.

"Tash? You oka-"

"Shut up. Come here."

When you don't immediately get up as fast as she wants you to,a deep sigh drawls from her full lips.

" well I don't have all fucking day."

The brunette raises a brow at you, the action having you on your feet in an instant. As soon as you're within arms reach Tashi grabs your face forcing your lips against hers. She kisses you as if she's trying to eat you, not that there would be any complaints if she did. Tashi sucks your bottom lip into her mouth. pulling at it gently with her teeth making you gasp into her mouth. She suddenly pulls away and looks at you expectantly, as though you should already know exactly what she wants.

"Get on your knees"

her chest rising and falling rapidly from how out of breath she is. Tashi sets a hand on your shoulder to aid you down in front of her. Taking initiative you lower your head and being to pepper kisses on her thighs, sucking marks here and there on the soft smooth skin. She cards a hand in your hair guiding your head higher. Understanding her wordless order you remove her underwear and tennis skirt discarding them somewhere in the room. You bring a hand up to trace the perimeter of her lower lips, suddenly swiping a finger through her slit earning a surprised gasp out of her.

Finally you spread her wet cunt, attaching your eager lips to her. You slide your tongue from her dripping entrance to her clit that's throbbing for attention. Quickly wrapping your lips around her clip you roll the bud against your tongue and suck it into your mouth. Loud desperate moans escape from her lips, Tashi grasps your hair urging you closer and deeper into her cunt. She's practically using your face as a toy, her hips grind against you feverishly.

"Fuck fuck fuck- don't stop. You better not fucking stop." The words don't even make sense to her own ears. She just wants to chase this feeling after the day she's had. The movement of her hips grow more and more erratic by the second until a sharp cry echos throughout your dorm.

You lap up her release not stopping until she physically pulls your head up.

"Did so good, cmon let's shower I'll take care of you in there."



[ellebowchelle]

˚ ༘ 💤. ೀ⋆｡˚ patrick zweig (challengers) moodboard .ᐟ

.⊹˖ᯓ 🎾 . ݁₊ " and what was i for, art ? "

[jesuistrestriste]

thinking about preacher's son patrick asking you to hurt him as punishment for his sins.

he doesn't know how to deal with his desire for you. it was easier to pray it alway when it was only his imagination, but now that he had you in his hands it's impossible to forget.

he tries anyway.

he starts ignoring you in church, refusing to talk properly or even meet your gaze. he know that if he does he won't be able to resist you.

it's so tempting to surrender to your sweet words, to your longing eyes begging for his attention, but he can't bear the guilt that spreads through him like a disease when it all ends and he doesn't have the comfort of your touch anymore.

it works for a while. until it doesn't.

the next time you see eachother in chruch after the service is done, you don't give him any chance to escape you. he tries dismissing you, but you take his hands in yours and look directly into his eyes. it's enought to make him loose his composure. he listens to you.

you end up in a empty confessional with him on his knees desperately asking you to hit him, to make him feel something other then the excruciating desire he feels for you. he's willing to hate your guts if it means it will all go away.

he needs you to purge it out of him.

when you finally slap him the sound is strident. the same hand that held his before. you remain silent, waiting for him to say something, but he only breaths heavily, avoiding your gaze. the tension is palpable, you don't know what to do, you're afraid that this is the end, that he'll never talk to you again. but then he looks at you. he looks at you and his eyes don't lie. he liked it. you're not surprised when he speaks up with, voice hoarse

"again..."

it only made it worse.

ermm i got a litle carried away, hope this isn't too bad, i avoided putting any real dialogue because i'm not very good with it 😵‍💫 but yeah i loved your preacher's son patrick fic <3

oh gosh i love this so much. i love impact play with patrick, especially a guilty patrick.

his hands on your knees, his fingers splaying out over your clothed joints as he looks up to your eyes and breathes out a shaky “hit me again”.

so you do. you bring your palm down across his freckled cheek and revel in the way his skin welts, red and stinging, in the shape of your handprint. his head snaps to the side with the force of your slap, and his eyes roll back as he processes the pain and the wetness beginning to gather in his eyes.

“more.”

you hit him again.

“i deserve it.”

again.

again, again, again.

he squeezes his eyes shut with a broken sob and grips your thighs, tears finally rolling pitifully down his flushed face. he chokes on a moan and then blinks his gaze back open to look up to yours.

“i deserve it, don’t i? i need it, i need to look at you and only think of pain, or else ill—..” he trails off, shoving one of his hands down between his shaking legs to dull the hot ache that’s throbbing throughout his veins without his permission. he leans forward and lets his inflamed cheek rest over your leg. he hisses softly through a clenched jaw at the initial flash of discomfort, and then melts into your body. he’s begging you to push him away. to grab him by his head of dark brown hair and tell him to get lost, like he’s nothing more than a dirty stray on the street.

but he knows you won’t. and that’s what makes him cave.

he lazily drags his soft, pink lips up your leg, his flesh catching on the dry fabric. then he bites at the waistband of your bottoms.

“i’m sorry.. i’m sorry, i’m sorry.. let me prove how sorry i am.. let me touch you..”

[girliism]

anyways 70s!patrick picking you up off the side of the road in his cadillac. it was so hot outside and you looked like you were struggling to carry this huge suitcase all by yourself. and that’s totally the only reason he stopped in front of you. to help. not just because you had on the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen.

“hey.” he called out to you from the open passenger seat window.

“hi.”

you gave him the sweetest smile, and he almost felt bad for the dirty thoughts he was having about you.

“need a ride?” you contemplated the offer for a moment before ultimately giving in. “hm… sure!” patrick parked his car a few stops ahead then got out to grab your bag.

“i’m patrick by the way.” he said. you nodded introducing yourself. “so where are we headed.” he asked you, sliding back into the car. “la.” you answered. kicking off your shoes and throwing you feet up on his dashboard, before sinking into the passenger seat. “i’m gonna be a movie star.” you giggled. patrick hummed, his eyes closing in on the smooth skin of your thighs that had a slight sheen of sweat on them. “the new american dream.”

he let you take control of the radio switching from station to station singing to every single song.

“i just wanna say thank you for picking me up. been walking for forever.” you dropped your hand on his shoulder, playfully tugging at his ears. patrick flinched at the sudden action before chuckling. “you uh- look a long ways away from home. how’d you get so far out here.” you sighed. “well, i hitched from nevada with this trucker who ended up creeping me out, so at our last stop i jumped out with my bag and have been walking since. my legs are so sore.” you pouted.

patrick dropped one of his big hands on your thigh, and squeezed. moving his hand up and down massaging your leg.

you “subtly” clenched your thighs together whenever his hand got a little to high, and patrick had to hold back his smirk leaving his hand to just rest at the top of your inner thigh. “you know, i have a friend who’s a photographer for… magazines. i could totally get him to take you headshots, and introduce you to people.” patrick turned to look at you, catching how your face lit up.” “really?!”

patrick nodded and you huffed a laugh, jumping in your seat a little. “that’s amazing, oh my god. how could i ever repay you?”

“we’ll think of something.”

-

that something being you riding him outside his condo in palm springs.

“fuck, babe your body was made to be on film.” your t-shirt was lost somewhere in the car, and patrick had his rough hands groping at your exposed breast. your thighs were starting to ache again from moving up and down on his cock.

“you’re so big, can’t -fuck- can’t do it.” your movement flattered down into slow grinds. “uh uh.” patrick held you up by your waist, and started moving you again. “movie stars don’t quit do they? i’m already helping you out so much just be a good girl ride me. ok.”

he wasn’t exactly wrong. he was helping you out. giving you a ride, letting you stay with him, getting his friends to do your head shots.

“ok.”

you planted your hands on his clothed shoulder holding on tight as you started bouncing again. your whimpery moans sounded as sweet as the smile you gave him earlier looked.

“atta girl.” patrick locked his arms around your waist, and dropped his head in the crook of your neck. he bucked his hips up in fast thrust. “patrick!”

his hand found place on the back of your neck forcing you to keep eye contact with him. “god, your pussy feels amazing. so glad i picked you up.” you nodded along with his words. “would’ve been so lost without me, get picked by some creepy old man.” he says as if he isn’t one them.

“thankyouthankyouthankyousomuch” you mumbled.

“and you’re so fucking sweet.” he pushed back against the steering, the both of you jumping when the horn went off. laughs mixed in with your moans.

patrick let his hand travel down body his finger finding your clit, and he rubbed figure eights on you feeling your walls clench tighter around him. “gonna cum baby?” you nodded your head fast. your bodies moving in the same fast pace, from the outside anyone walking by would be able to tell what’s going on.

“oh god -fuck!- cumming!” you moans filled up the space along with the slapping of skin, and some you gushing all over patrick’s cock with light scream. “shit!” patrick’s rhythm got sloppy and he completely stilled inside of you, fill you up with thick ropes of cum.

the two of sat there in each other’s catching your breaths, your mixed orgasms dripping down onto patrick’s leather seats.

“the industry’s gonna love you.” you smiled at his comment threading your fingers through his hair not knowing you two were thinking about very different industries.

[jordiemeow]

jo’s unofficial baby drop to stop the pitchforks in her inbox !

just picked out a few random ones that i know r not shadowbanned. featuring preacher’s son art bc everyone wants his knee-loving ass

also 3 lesbian atp bots coming later too hopefully :)) posting this from the fetal position on my bathroom floor pls be grateful

art and patrick

➴ unofficial third

art donaldson

➴ altar boy

➴ kids having kids

patrick zweig

➴ boy dad

art tashi patrick

➴ atp

taglist: @tacobacoyeet @blastzachilles @gracelynnx @femme-lusts @voidsuites @cha11engers @magicalmiserybore @m4lodr4ma @newrochellechallenger2019 @coolgrl111 @peachyparkerr @stanart4clearskin @misswrldd @kaalxpsia @downtwngrl @s0ftcobra @strfallz @artspats @dazedandconfusedlvr @turnerrst @elsieblogs @challengersism @artdonaldsonmalewife

[diyasgarden]

music

So I’ve talked about music and musicals before, but here are some albums I think they would like…

Art had his sony walkman glued to his side at the academy and at stanford. Chances are he had Mr.Brightside playing on loop more often than not.

These albums went platinum on Tashi’s Ipod nano at Stanford. On bus rides you share earbuds as you both listen to the songs she queues up.

Patrick blasts these in his car. Volume up, windows down. Asshole behavior? Yeah kinda, but you love him anyway.

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no more, you horndogs!”

[ellzbellz18]

How I feel after crying over a literal x reader fanfic