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zweigscore · 5 days ago

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i’m not sure if you write mlm but I wanted to request something about art x patrick during stanford era, like patrick and tashi are dating but patrick steals a pair of tashi’s underwear and he dares art to try them on and then they have sex after that. I think patrick’s brain would short circuit and he’d start feminizing art

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TIGHT FIT

summary: Art just wants to mind his own business at Stanford. Too bad Patrick has no boundaries. Late night calls about lingerie? Normal. Stealing Tashi’s used panties and showing it Art? Totally casual. Jerking off together while talking about her? Nothing new. Sniffing her panties? Yeah, sure. Wearing the panties himself when Patrick tells him to? Why not.

pairings:patrick zweig x art donaldson

warnings: 7.5k words. mature themes. infidelity / cheating. mutual masturbation. stolen underwear. panty kink. corruption kink. humiliation / degradation. praise kink. feminization. cum play. rimming. fingering. nipple play. overstimulation. rough sex. size kink. unprotected anal sex. internal ejaculation / breeding (implied). d/s dynamics. read & consume responsibly.

note: Art pussyyyyy propaganda!!!! <3 LOL it’s been so long since I wrote my last mlm smut. (hahahaha going back to my roots because im og yaoi writer before being an x reader writer)

Patrick had a habit of calling late, his voice coming through the line with the same restless energy he carried on court. That night was no different. Art had been half-asleep when the phone buzzed, but he answered anyway because it was Patrick, and ignoring him never worked out. “Hey, help me out for a second,” Patrick said, skipping a greeting. “You’re good at picking shit out. What color do you think Tashi would like more- red or black?” Art rubbed his eyes, staring at the ceiling of his dorm. “For what?”

“For panties, Art. I’m at the shop right now,” Patrick answered, like it was the most normal thing to say at midnight. He gave a short laugh when Art stayed quiet. “Come on, don’t make it weird. Just pick between red and black. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.” Art groaned and turned on his side. He frustratedly buried his face in the pillow. “You’re insane. Why would I know what she wants?”

“Because you pay attention,” Patrick shot back, sharp but playful. “You’re not a complete moron like me. So pick. Which one would you buy if you were me?” There was a pause before Art muttered, “Black, I guess. It’s… simpler.” Patrick hummed like he was seriously weighing it, though his grin carried through the phone.

“Yeah, black’s nice. But red- red’s fucking filthy. I like filthy.” He let the words hang there just long enough for Art to shift uncomfortably in bed. “Alright, I’ll get both. Can’t hurt to spoil her.” Art stayed quiet, hoping the conversation would end there, but Patrick didn’t let go. Over the next few weeks, it became a running bit. Out of nowhere he will suddenly bring up lingerie. Always the same- which of the fabrics will feel best if it stays on while fucking. He even asked about lace being too much.

Sometimes he framed it as a joke. Sometimes like he really wanted advice, but either way he kept circling back. And each time, Art felt that uneasy twist in his stomach. It’s like Patrick knew exactly how far he could push before it tipped into something else. When Patrick came to Stanford during one of his breaks, the first thing he did after dropping his bag was wave his car keys at Art. “Come with me to the mall,” he said. “I owe Tashi something. Need a second opinion. Don’t give me that look- what else are you doing? Homework?”

They ended up weaving through racks of women’s clothes while Patrick pointed things out with zero shame. He held up a silky set and smirked. “Imagine her in this. Tell me it’s not perfect.” When Art heard the word imagine he immediately gave Patrick a side eye because why would he tell him to imagine his girlfriend wearing a good pair? Art shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered, “You should just buy her whatever you think she likes. You don’t need f dfme for this.”

“Yeah, but it’s funnier this way,” Patrick shamelessly said and there’s a grin creeping back to his mouth before he put the hanger back where it belongs. “Besides… You’ve got that face like you’re trying not to think about it. Which makes me want to ask more.” Patrick lingered by a display of delicate lace underwear, flicking the strap with his finger. “You think she likes these?” he asked, tone casual but eyes sharp, watching Art out of the corner of his eye. “Bet they’d look even better on someone who doesn’t usually wear this shit. Don’t you think?”

The mall trip should’ve been the end of it, but Patrick wasn’t the type to let a joke die. Over the next few days at Stanford, he spent most of his time at Tashi’s dorm, barging in and out like he lived there. When he wasn’t tangled up with her, he was showing up at Art’s place with snacks and stories from tour, sprawling across the narrow bed like he owned it.

One evening they were in Art’s room, a match playing muted on the TV. Patrick was stretched out while tossing a tennis ball in the air and catching it lazily. Art sat at his desk as he tried to focus on reading, though he hadn’t gotten through a single page since Patrick walked in. “You know what’s funny?” Patrick said suddenly, eyes on the ball as it landed in his palm. “I stole a pair of Tashi’s panties.”

Art’s head snapped up. “What the fuck?” Patrick grinned, unbothered. “Yeah. She didn’t even notice. They’re in my pocket right now.” He slapped the side of his jeans like proof, the laugh in his voice making it worse. “I’ll probably give them back next time I come through. You know, when I’m done with ‘em.” Art pushed his chair back with a loud scrape. “Jesus, why would you even tell me that? That’s not something I need to know.” But Patrick doesn’t have any filter so Art will suffer from it. “That’s the point,” Patrick said while smirking as he sat up. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and watching Art’s face. “You look like you’re gonna choke on your own tongue. Relax, I’m not asking you to sniff them or anything.”

Art rubbed a hand over his jaw. Just torn between disgust and the uneasy heat crawling into his chest. “You’re disgusting.” Patrick only shrugged as he fished in his pocket like he was actually about to pull them out. “I like having a little insurance when I’m on the road, alright? Something to jerk off to when I’m stuck in another hotel room.” His grin widened as Art looked away. “What? You think that’s gross? Or you just don’t wanna picture me doing it?”

“Neither. Both. I don’t know.” Art kept his eyes on the TV, though the screen was a blur. “You don’t have to tell me this shit,” his voice sounded annoyed because Patrick kept saying things he didn’t have to know. “Sure I do,” Patrick said easily before leaning back again. He clearly knows that these things are meant to be private, he knows that. But he also knows how easily Art can get flustered over this. “You’re the only one I can tell. Everyone else would take me seriously. You won’t.” He chuckles before letting the silence fall between them as the smirk in his mouth is fading into something quieter “Besides, I think you like it when I tell you shit you’re not supposed to hear.”

“I don’t.” Art said before turning his chair and glaring at Patrick. “Yeah, you do.” Patrick’s tone dropped, low enough to make Art’s chest tighten. “Otherwise you’d kick me out instead of letting me sit here all night.” Patrick’s hand slipped into his pocket. Without a second thought, he tossed something across the room. The bundle landed in Art’s lap before he could even react. The soft fabric brushes his thighs. When he looked down it made his stomach twist. It’s small enough that there was no mistaking what it was.

Art froze, heat rushing up the back of his neck as he shoved the underwear off his lap. “Are you fucking serious?” Patrick leaned up with a grin like he’d just aced a serve. “What? Don’t act like you’re shocked. I told you I had them.” His eyes flicked down toward Art’s jeans, where the fabric was pulled tight, and his smirk deepened. “Not very subtle.” Art stiffened, pressing his knees together, but Patrick didn’t look away. His stare lingered until Art finally snapped, “Shut up.”

“Why?” Patrick asked as he laughed under his breath. “It’s not like we haven’t jerked off together before. You remember that, don’t you? You were the one who couldn’t stop looking.” It's too much how he keeps pressing him to burst out, to say something, and to do it. “That was different.” Art’s voice was low and tight. His hand says otherwise with how it twitched against his thigh like he didn’t know where to put it.

Patrick tilted his head like he was feigning a thought. “Different how? My cock was still in your hand, wasn’t it?”Art’s jaw is locked and tight before he lets out a scoff. “Jesus Christ.” Art shoved back in his chair, glaring at him, but the edge of the anger wavered. His skin burned, betraying him in a way words couldn’t cover. Patrick stretched out his legs while his voice was easy and almost bored. “I’m just saying… It wouldn’t be weird. We could do it again. You with your hand, me with mine. And if you really wanna make it interesting…”

He nudged the panties on the bed with his foot, eyes locked on Art. “We’ve already got the perfect prop.” Art’s throat went dry. He wanted to tell him to fuck off and to throw the lace back in his face, but his body didn’t match his mouth. The silence stretched until Patrick laughed again. It’s softer this time, like he’d already won. Patrick didn’t wait for permission. He shoved his jeans down and kicked them off. His boxers followed without hesitation.

His cock was already hard. It’s flushed deep at the tip, and he wrapped his hand around it with a groan that filled the small dorm room. “God, I needed this,” he muttered, stroking himself slowly. His eyes didn’t leave Art. “You ever think about her when you do it? Bet you do.” Art’s jaw clenched. He stayed frozen in his chair although his cock pressed painfully against his zipper. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he teased him while his hand slid up and down to his cock with practiced movements like he always jerks off and it shows. It’s obvious in his voice that he’s taunting Art to have a reaction like it’s just about him telling a dirty joke and not stroking his cock in front of him. “She fights me for control every time. Some nights I’ve got her on her back, choking on me. Other nights she’s on top, nails in my chest, trying to make me beg. It’s fucking wild.” He groaned again, letting his head tip back against the wall. “You’d lose your mind if you ever got to fuck her.”

The words hit their mark. Art shifted as his breath was heavy, and after a long moment, he shoved his boxers down. His cock sprang free. Hard and aching. He wrapped his hand around it with a hiss between his teeth. The panties Patrick had thrown at him were still there, and after a second of hesitation, he grabbed them to twist the lace in his fist as he stroked himself.

Patrick’s laugh was low, almost breathless. “Knew you couldn’t hold out.” His hand sped up, slick sounds filling the space between them. “Look at you. Jerking off with her panties. You’re fucking gone.” Art’s eyes shut tight as he pumped his cock, the lace soft against his knuckles.

His breath came harsh, every drag of his hand sending sparks down his spine. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered. The flush on his face betrayed him. “Not a chance,” Patrick said with his voice being rougher now as his own strokes quickened. “I should tell her about this. Tell her you sit here thinking about how she moans, how she squeezes. You want to know how wet she gets? You’d kill for it.”

“Stop- ” Art choked on the word, his hips lifting into his hand. The panties slid against the head of his cock, dampening with pre-cum, and his body shuddered. Patrick groaned, eyes fixed on the sight. “Fuck, you’re pathetic. Harder than me and it’s not even her in the room. Just a piece of lace and your imagination.”

Art’s teeth dug into his lip, his strokes jerky now, the pressure of the panties making it worse. He glanced at Patrick and immediately regretted it; his friend was sprawled out, fist tight around his cock, eyes half-lidded and mouth slack. Watching him was a punch to the gut, heat rolling through Art’s chest until his own wrist moved faster.

Patrick caught the look and grinned, even through the tension in his jaw. “Yeah. That’s it. Stroke it with me. Pretend she’s right here between us, taking both our cocks in her mouth.” His voice dropped, a growl in his throat. “Bet you’d let me fuck you if it meant tasting her too.” Art lets out a broken sound. It’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan. He bites his lips as he tries to silence it.

The lace twisted tighter in his grip. The smell is making him crazy and his cock pulsed in his hand as if it heard Patrick’s words clearer than his head did. The lace was damp with precum already, but that didn’t stop him from lifting it higher. He’s pressing his nose into the crotch and the scent shows it’s not fresh from laundry. It’s worn in from use, and the sound that left him was low and broken.

His cock twitched in his hand as he dragged the panties across his face. He’s shivering at the thought of where they’d been. “Fuck, look at you,” Patrick groaned while stroking himself faster. “Can’t even help it. You’re gone for her.” Breath shaking, Art’s words spilled before he could stop them. “Every time she bends on court… ass right there in my face. Can’t stop staring. Just wanna get on my knees, spread her open, eat her out like a fucking dog.”

Patrick’s laugh was sharp, strained as his hand worked his cock. “You’d love it. She’d grab your hair, grind on your mouth, make you choke on her. Does it to me all the time.” His head fell back against the wall, eyes half-closed. “She rides my face like she owns it. Leaves me soaked.” Art whimpered, burying his nose deeper into the lace. His voice cracked as his fist pumped harder.

“Want her to use me like that. Sit down on me until I can’t breathe. I’d let her- fuck- I’d let her do anything.” His words are shameless and he doesn’t even know where he gets them. “Yeah, you would.” Patrick’s chest heaved, a flush creeping down his neck. His strokes grew rougher as his eyes locked on the pathetic sight across from him. “She’d love it too. Call you her little bitch while she makes you lick her clean. Bet you’d cum just from her pussy smothering your face.” Art gasped, hips jerking, and the panties twisted tighter in his grip.

His cock leaked over his knuckles, every word dragging him deeper. “She’s so- fuck- she’s so perfect. I’d give anything just to taste her once.” Patrick groaned, hand sliding over the slick head of his cock. “She’d ruin you. And you’d thank her for it. You’d be on your knees begging for more.” His voice dropped lower, a growl through clenched teeth. “Pathetic little slut.”

The words made Art whine into the lace. He’s shuddering as he stroked himself faster. His cock was straining while his face was flushed red and getting wet with sweat. Patrick’s gaze lingered on the lace crumpled in Art’s fist. His lips curled as a thought hit him. “Put them on,” he said, voice rough, almost mocking. “Go on. You keep sniffing like that, might as well wear them. Pretend her pussy’s pressed right up on you.” Art froze, his hand still slick around his cock, breath catching as if the words had knocked it out of him.

The panties hung between his fingers. He’s trembling and shame washed over his face before he swallowed it whole. He let out a weak sound. A whine and a gasp while his shaky hands are guiding the panties to his feet. His cock twitched. It’s flushed and leaking. Art pulled the lace up while the shivers went through his spine as the thin fabric stretched tight over him.

Patrick’s grin widened while stroking himself lazily and watching the way the lace clung to Art’s cock. The outline of it is obscene. “Fuck, look at you. Sitting there like some little slut in her underwear.” His voice deepened, hunger dripping from every word. “Bet you’re imagining her cunt instead. Wet, hot, rubbing all over you.” The sound that came out of Art was broken, his hand sliding down to press at the bulge the panties barely contained.

His strokes were clumsy, desperate, the fabric dampening quickly with precum. “Feels… fuck, feels like her,” he whispered, and the shame in his tone only made his hips jerk harder. “Like she’s right here, grinding down on me.” Patrick let out a low groan as he pumped his cock faster. “She’d laugh if she saw you like this. Call you her pretty little boy, tell you to keep touching yourself while she rides my cock.”

His chest heaved as he spat more filth into the air, watching Art’s eyes glaze. “You’d watch her bounce on me while you hump into her panties like the desperate bitch you are.” Art whimpered, thighs shaking, as his hand rubbed quicker over the lace. “Want it- fuck- I’d watch. I’d watch her take you while I just sit here, so hard I can’t think. She’d make me sit in the corner like this. Tell me I’m not allowed to cum.” Patrick hissed through his teeth, head tipping back before he dragged it forward again, eyes locked on Art’s ruined face.

“She’d love it. She’d keep you begging while she moans on my cock. Her tits bouncing, pussy milking me while you cry into her panties.” His words broke off into a sharp grunt, his fist twisting at the head of his cock. “And you’d thank her. Wouldn’t even need to touch you. You’d cum from just watching.” The lace was wet now, sticking to Art’s cock as his strokes grew erratic. His mouth fell open, panting, face twisted with something pitiful and sweet.

“Please,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut as if Tashi might appear there if he wished hard enough. “Please, I want it. I want her to use me. I’ll do anything- fuck, I’ll do anything for her.” Patrick’s laugh was low, breathless as he jerked himself harder, precum slicking his knuckles. “Yeah, you will. You’re already doing it. Sitting in her panties, stroking yourself stupid. She owns your cock without even trying.” His voice cracked on a groan, the image of Tashi riding his face flashing behind his eyes.

“God, she’d ruin you. Turn you into her little toy. That’s all you’d ever be.” Art whined while his hips stuttered. His whole body was trembling as he ground into the lace and every word drove him further. His cock pulsed under the fabric as his precum spread in sticky patches across the fabric. He looked wrecked, needy, small- like a boy dressed up and waiting to be told what to do. Patrick shifted back again with his fist still wrapped around his cock. The veins in his arms are visible and popping out while he strokes his cock slowly. His gaze kept coming back to the mess in the lace touching Art’s cock before he jerked his chin toward the bed. “Come here. Sit next to me.” The request made Art pause, fingers hovering over the soaked front of the panties.

His thighs were trembling, cock straining under the fabric, but he moved quickly, almost eager. The mattress dipped under his weight, and now the two of them were side by side, hands moving over themselves, breath filling the air between them. Patrick’s eyes dragged down the line of Art’s body, the way the lace clung tight to the wet outline of his cock, the patch of precum spreading darker and darker. His jaw flexed as he pumped harder, heat rising under his skin at the thought that pressed, unwelcome and sharp, into his head. He didn’t say it. Didn’t let it slip. Instead, he leaned his head back and muttered, “Fuck, you look like a toy. Bet she’d laugh at you, all dressed up like that.”

Art whimpered, hand fumbling against the sticky fabric, his hips jerking into his own palm. “She’d make me stay like this,” he said, voice breaking around the words. His eyes shut tight, chest rising and falling fast. “She’d tell me to sit still and touch myself while she rides you. I’d have to sit here and take it.” A grunt tore from Patrick’s throat, the picture clear and filthy in his mind. His fist moved quicker, precum smearing across his cockhead. “She’d ride me while you’re right here beside us. Her tits in my face, her pussy clenching, and you’d be whining into her panties like a bitch in heat.”

The words hit Art hard to the point his cock twitched beneath the lace and his mouth let out sounds and his voice cracked when he whispered, “I want it. I want her to use me. Want her pussy right here. I’d let her do anything.” Patrick’s chest heaved as his eyes locked on the shivering figure beside him. “Anything?” he muttered with a low and rough voice. Each word dripped with disbelief even though he already knew the answer.

“Yes- fuck- anything. I’d lick her, I’d clean her up after she cums on you. I’d wear her panties every day if she told me to. I’d let her sit on my face until I can’t breathe.” Art’s hand is messy and doesn’t have a rhythm. He’s rubbing the lace against the wet tip and his whole body is trembling with the thought of it. Patrick groaned while fist continuing to twist harder as his cock pulsed against his grip. The heat curling in his belly was getting too much. As much as his mouth wanted to spit more things, his head was already reeling with the thought he didn’t dare speak.

The image of bending Art over, panties tight on his ass, his cock stuffed full- it made his balls tighten almost painfully. He bit down hard, letting only a grunt escape, and forced his gaze back to Art’s ruined face. Beside him, Art was gone, body shaking, lace clinging to every inch of his cock. He leaned into the bed, closer than he realized, lips parting as his breath hitched. “She owns me,” he whispered, eyes glassy and wet.

“Her pussy owns me. I’ll never stop thinking about it.” Patrick’s hand sped up and his precum slid down his knuckles with his own breath getting rough. He didn’t answer this time because there was nothing left to say. The room was filled with the sound of their fists moving. The wet slap of fabric against skin and the filthy thing neither of them wanted to name. The bed rocked faintly under their weight as both of them moved in quick and messy strokes. Their bodies jerked in sync, shoulders brushed, and every small sound filled the space between them. It’s low grunts from one side and high little whimpers from the other. Heat rolled through the room. Feels heavy and close, and it didn’t take long before their pace stuttered.

“Fuck, I’m close,” the voice came rough and deep, fist moving fast as his cock throbbed in his grip. His head tilted back against the wall, throat flexing as his breathing broke apart. His hand jerked one last time before thick streams spilled hot into his palm and dripped between his fingers. He groaned with his eyes half-lidded as his chest heaved. Beside him, the lace-clad cock twitched violently at the sight. “Nnghh- please, I’m gonna- ” The words were thin, broken by breathless sounds as his hips jerked helplessly. He pressed harder into his own palm and he was whining softly until his cock spasmed and soaked the fabric. The panties are turning even wetter under the release.

His head fell forward as he gasped. His face is flushed and damp with sweat and his body is trembling from the force of it. The room was still except for their ragged breathing. Then a slick sound cut through, and the one with cum in his hand shifted. Instead of wiping it away, he turned and pressed his messy palm down over the wet bulge beside him. The lace darkened as his cum smeared across it, soaking through and mixing with the sticky release already trapped there.

A sharp gasp broke from the other boy. “Wh-what are you doing- hnnh, f-fuck- ” His hips jolted against the hand, thighs trembling as the mess rubbed in circles over the head of his cock. The lace clung tighter. It feels sticky and damp. It also didn’t help that much motion made him squirm. “Look at you,” the voice came low and edged with a laugh that didn’t quite hide the hunger under it. His palm ground down, spreading more cum into the soaked fabric. “You’ve got a pussy in these. That’s all this is now. A little pussy for me to mess up.”

The words made his breath catch, eyes squeezing shut as another needy whine slipped free. “Don’t- don’t say that, I can’t- ” His cock pulsed under the lace, the fabric sticking tighter with each slow drag of cum across it. His thighs pressed together instinctively like he was trying to close around the hand, but his hips still rolled helplessly into the touch. The grip stayed firm. Just rubbing harder now and pushing the sticky mess deeper into the panties until it seeps against bare skin. “You feel it, don’t you?” the rough voice pressed on, each word landing heavy. “Feels like I’m rubbing your pussy. Say it. Say what it is.”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his lips parting around broken sounds. “It’s- it’s my pussy- mmffhh, nghh, oh god- it’s my pussy.” His voice cracked high, the words spilling out as his cock twitched desperately under the lace. The hand slowed, spreading cum lazily over the swollen tip, pressing down until the boy under it squirmed and gasped. His whole body shook, the panties ruined, clinging like they were made for nothing else but this.

The slick sound of cum dragging across lace faded as Patrick leaned closer, his hand gripping Art’s side. Without warning, he shoved him back flat on the mattress, the shift rough enough to knock a gasp out of him. Art’s body sank into the sheets, his chest rising fast as he blinked up, lips parted and wet. “W-wait- ” his voice came small and his arms lifted automatically when Patrick’s hands tugged at the hem of his shirt. The fabric was peeled away and showing his pale chest with his nipples already tight from the cool air. He squirmed a little but didn’t fight or protest about it. His cheeks flushed red as he pressed his thighs together.

Patrick stripped his own shirt next. Dragging it over his head and tossing it aside. The sight of his chest hair caught in the dim light with dark curls spreading over thick muscle before trailing lower down his stomach. The happy trail dipped right into the mess of his bush. There’s sweat clinging to it as his cock is still half-hard and it’s listening where cum had smeared earlier. He sat back on his knees before looking down, and the corner of his mouth curled like he knew how good he looked.

Art swallowed hard with eyes wide before shifting nervously as his knees fell apart. His legs opened slowly and shakily until the ruined panties stretched tight across his swollen cock. He looked like he wanted to close them again but kept them spread open. His hands curl into the sheets like he’s holding himself down. “D-don’t look at me like that,” he whispered in a quiet and broken voice.

Patrick leaned forward to plant a hand on the mattress beside Art’s head. His voice dropped low and hot against the Art’s ear. “Not gonna forget to take care of my favorite girl.” The words made Art’s back arch, a sharp little sound leaving his throat. “Nnhh- stop- don’t call me that- ” His face turned away, embarrassed, but his legs pushed wider, the panties riding up against his cock like they were begging for more. His chest rose fast, nipples pebbled hard, his whole body betraying him.

Patrick chuckled. It’s heavy and deep in his chest. He dragged his palm slowly down over Art’s stomach to feel the soft skin twitch under his touch. His thumb brushed along the waistband, just above the sticky lace. “You like it,” he said simply, watching the boy squirm. “Makes you wet every time.” Art whimpered, the sound almost girlish, hips rolling up against nothing. “Nnghh, s-shut up- I can’t- ” His legs trembled as he spread them wider, toes curling against the sheets, and his cock throbbed under the ruined panties, soaked through with both of their cum.

Patrick’s fingers hooked into the lace and dragged it aside, sticky fabric clinging to Art’s skin before snapping back. The sight of his hole glistening under the mess made Patrick groan low in his throat. He spread Art’s thighs wider and bent down, his breath hot as it fanned over the twitching little opening. The first lick made Art jolt, a sharp gasp catching in his chest. “Nnhh- ohh- ” His hands scrambled over the sheets, nails digging into the fabric, but his hips lifted up without thought, offering more.

Patrick lapped over him again, slower, tongue spreading the mess across his hole before circling tight around it. He groaned into it like he’d been starving. “Look at her,” he murmured between licks, voice low and rough. “So wet already… all this for me.” Art covered his face with one hand, the heat rushing up to his ears unbearable, but his body gave him away. His thighs trembled as they pushed wider, his hole twitching under Patrick’s tongue. “D-don’t… don’t say that- ” The words fell shaky, but his hips rolled up against Patrick’s mouth like he needed it deeper.

Patrick pulled back just far enough to spit, the wet sound loud before it dripped down over the hole. He pushed his tongue inside, slow and steady, groaning at the squeeze. “She’s so tight,” he said against him, lips pressing wetly as he worked in deeper. “Need to stretch her open before I fuck her. Gonna make her soft for my cock.” Art let out a broken sound, half whimper, half moan, his other hand reaching down to clutch at Patrick’s hair. “Nnhh- f-fuck- oh god- ” His hips rocked helplessly into the pressure, his whole body arching off the bed. His face was burning, humiliated at every word, yet his hole kept clenching around Patrick’s tongue, hungry for more.

Patrick sucked hard around him, shaking his head against the mess as if he couldn’t get enough. “Taste how sweet she is,” he growled, pulling his mouth back only to lick him open again. “This little pussy’s mine to ruin. You want me to make her ready, don’t you?” The question hit deep, and Art’s hand fell from his face. When he looks at Patrick who’s already between his legs, his eyes are glassy and his lips are trembling while the words coming out of him can barely be heard. “Y-yes… want it.”

Patrick smirked against him, tongue flattening and dragging slowly from his hole down to his cock, leaving spit and cum smeared across the lace. He mouthed at the wet fabric, sucking over the head until Art sobbed, then went back to his hole with another hungry push of his tongue. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice muffled into him. “Let her open up. She’s gonna take everything I give her.” Art’s thighs shook as his body gave in, his cock straining painfully against the ruined panties, dripping more with every drag of Patrick’s tongue.

He couldn’t hold back the noises anymore, his voice spilling out soft and broken. “Nnghh- ahh- please- oh fuck, please don’t stop- ” Two fingers pressed in beside Patrick’s tongue, stretching him wider as spit and slick mess coated his hole. Art gasped sharply and his legs tightened around Patrick’s shoulders. His chest rose and fell fast. Each breath shaky as he clung to the sheets. “Nnghh- ahh- s-so deep- ” he stammered, voice breaking as the fingers curled inside him.

Patrick worked them slowly, twisting and pumping until the tightness gave way a little, then spread him wider with a groan. “She’s gripping me already,” he muttered, watching how the hole twitched and pulled his fingers in. “So small… I’ll split her open on my cock.” The words made Art’s stomach flip and the heat rushed up his neck. He hid his face in his arm also to muffle a weak whimper that escaped his throat. Even so, his hips rocked down onto Patrick’s hand to chase the pressure deeper. “D-don’t tease- please- need it- ”

Patrick smirked, pulling his fingers free and wiping them over the wet lace before grabbing his cock, stroking it once as he lined it up. The swollen head nudged against the stretched hole, sticky fabric pushed aside but never removed. He pressed forward just enough to make the tip catch, and leaned down until his mouth crushed against Art’s. The kiss was messy and hot, tongues sliding, muffled cries spilling between their mouths as Patrick pushed in.

The stretch burned sharp at first, forcing Art to gasp against his lips, his eyes squeezing shut as he clung to Patrick’s shoulders. “Nnhh- hahh- ohh- ” His legs lifted instinctively, wrapping tight around Patrick’s waist, locking him closer as if his body couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. Patrick broke the kiss to groan into his ear, voice low and rough. “Fuck- this is the tightest pussy I’ve ever had. So small, I can barely fit.” He pushed deeper, the head sliding past the squeeze until his cock was swallowed inch by inch. “Gonna stretch her wide open… take every bit of me.”

Art’s nails dug into his back, his thighs trembling around him. His hole spasmed around the thick length forcing its way inside, and the wet lace dragged against his cock, soaking with precum. “Nnghh- hahh, it’s too big- f-fuck, feels so full- ” His words spilled out broken, yet his hips tilted up to meet the push, hungry for more. Patrick caught his lips again, kissing him hard as his cock sank deeper, grinding forward until his hips pressed flush against him. He swallowed Art’s cries, his own groans vibrating through their mouths as he held there, buried to the hilt.

“She took it,” he muttered against his lips, almost in disbelief. “Took every inch. Look how good she fits me.” Art moaned into the kiss, body shuddering under him, legs squeezing tighter around Patrick’s waist as if to keep him locked inside. “Nnhh- oh god- don’t pull out- stay there- ” His face burned hot. He looked ashamed about how easily the words slipped out, but his body clung to every inch. He’s trembling like he never wanted to let go. Patrick held himself deep for a moment before kissing him breathless while his cock pulsed inside the squeeze. The lace clung wet between themstretched tight against his cock and rubbed across the base every time their hips shifted.

He looked down at Art’s flushed face under him when he finally pulled back. The sight of those legs wrapped around his waist so tightly made his chest tighten with a low groan. Art blinked up at him and his lips were red and swollen and his hair sticking to his forehead. His voice cracked as he whispered, “It’s so big… fits me so well- hahh- ” The words left him in a broken whimper as Patrick gave the first slow pull, the thick cock dragging out until only the swollen head was caught at the entrance. The hole clung stubbornly, slick strings sticking when Patrick shoved back in.

The push made Art arch up, body trembling under the stretch. His hole gaped slightly around the cock each time it sank in, swallowing thick inches until his insides wrapped snug around the length. Precum smeared the lace, slicking it so it slid against his skin with every grind. His bush pressed soft and damp against their skin and it was adding rougher friction where their bodies met. Patrick bent down to latch his mouth on a nipple. He doesn’t think twice before sucking hard until the bud tightens against his tongue. His other hand lay flat in the middle of Art’s chest before traveling it to his unattended chest so his fingers could roll the other nipple between his fingers.

“Pretty little tits,” he murmured into the skin before biting down just enough to make Art cry out. “Made for my mouth. Made for my cock.” A sobbed moan spilled from Art’s throat, his back arching as he clung to Patrick. “Nnghh- ahh! P-please- don’t stop- ” His nails dragged down Patrick’s back, leaving faint lines that stung under the sweat. His cock twitched untouched against his belly, leaking all over the lace that stuck wet against him.

Patrick started moving harder, hips snapping forward so the slap of skin mixed with the squelch of his cock driving into the messy hole. Every thrust shoved the lace tighter against Art’s pussy, sticky fabric dragging with the stretch, holding wetness in until it leaked out around his cock. Patrick’s breath came rough against his ear as he muttered, “Listen to her. Can’t stop sucking me in. So wet, so small, taking me like she was made for it.”

Art’s thighs shook around him, heels digging into his back to pull him deeper. “Ohh god- hahh- feels so good inside me- stretching me- fuck fuck- ” His cries came quick, broken with gasps, every word melting into the next as Patrick hit deep and ground in circles. The cock pushed against every swollen spot inside him, making his pussy spasm hard around it. Sweat rolled down Patrick’s chest, his muscles flexing as he kept the pace steady and rough. The tight heat clung to every vein, squeezing down as if the hole never wanted to let him go. “Tightest I’ve ever had,” he groaned, licking over the spit-slick nipple again. “She’ll never forget this cock.”

Art cried out, head tipping back, mouth open in a desperate moan as his body jerked with each hard thrust. “Ahhnn- mmfhh- hahh! Y-yesss- so full- so good- ” His voice cracked high and the words tumbling out were messy and shameless. Patrick fucked him deeper and ground the lace against his his cock. The heat of his body into every part of him. Patrick hooked a hand under the back of his thigh and pressed the leg up. He’s folding it until the knee rests against his shoulder. The change opened him wider. His hole stretched around the cock that was already deep inside.

The lace bunched at the edge of the fold, soaked through and clinging, nearly see-through with all the mess soaking it. His cockhead nudged against his belly, peeking from the ruined fabric, sticky cum already leaking from the last peak. He let out a broken cry as Patrick shoved back in with a wet slap, balls hitting the curve of his ass. The thrust punched the air from his lungs, made his toes curl against Patrick’s skin. “Nnhh- ohh, god- too deep- ” His voice trembled but hips were lifting anyway. It looks like he’s begging for more even as his body shivers with overstimulation.

Patrick gritted his teeth and drove harder. The grip on his thigh was bruising and his pace was unrelenting. “So wet,” he groaned low as his eyes locked on the cock sliding out glossy and dripping before sinking back in. “So messy like a little pussy. She can’t stop cumming, can she?” His voice broke into a grunt as the heat clamped tight, squeezing like it wanted to milk him dry. “Soaked like a girl under me.” A sob slipped from Art’s throat, his nails clawing at Patrick’s forearm. The lace dragged against his slit with every thrust, slick squelch echoing in the room. “Ahh- mmmfhh- hahh, y-yes, I’m wet- so wet, please don’t stop- ” His chest heaved, nipples stiff from earlier abuse, and when Patrick’s mouth closed over one again, he wailed louder.

The pounding built faster, Patrick’s hips smacking hard enough to rattle the bed. Sweat dripped down his chest, mixing with the shine of spit on Art’s tits as he bit and sucked at the bud. His cock drove mercilessly into the stretched hole, the head battering deep until the wet sound was drowned by the slap of their bodies. “Made to take me,” Patrick growled against the nipple, sucking it until it popped from his mouth wet and red. “So tight, so fucking soft inside- fuck, she’s dripping everywhere.” The overstimulation tipped Art again too fast, his back arching sharply off the mattress. His cock spasmed untouched, spurting thick against the ruined lace. Cum smeared hot across his own stomach, sliding down to mix with the wet patch that had soaked through between them. His cry was thin, cracked, the sound of someone overwhelmed but unwilling to stop. “Hhnnhh- ohh- fuuuck, I- cumming again, I can’t- ahhnn!”

Patrick didn’t slow down, didn’t even give him a chance to catch his breath. The sight of cum pouring through the lace only made him rut harder, his cock hammering into the clench until his balls slapped wetly. He leaned down, pressing the leg tighter to his chest so he could grind deeper, voice harsh against his ear. “She’s a mess. Look at her- cumming all over me like a filthy little cunt. Can’t stop getting wetter the more I fuck her.” Art sobbed into the kiss Patrick forced on him, mouth open and messy, drool smearing between their lips. Every thrust had his hole stretched wide around the cock, rim flushed and swollen from the constant pounding, yet still pulling it back in greedily.

The lace was torn at the seam now, Patrick’s cock sliding through the sticky mess of cum and spit and slick as if the fabric was nothing more than decoration. The pounding didn’t stop even after his cock spilled untouched again, lace clinging heavy and damp against his slit. Patrick’s hips were a blur, balls smacking wet against the mess they’d both made, and every slam had his voice coming out ragged. “Gonna fill her up- fuck- so deep in her cunt she’ll never get it out.” His hand pressed hard on the back of the thigh hooked over his shoulder, folding him in tighter, burying himself to the base with each brutal shove.

The words had Art whimpering, chest heaving as his body fluttered around the thickness inside him. “Nnghh- hahh- please, please- don’t pull out, I want it- ” His nails dragged helplessly down Patrick’s slick back, leaving red trails as he clung on. His cock twitched weakly against the ruined lace, drooling more cum through the soaked fabric. Patrick bent over him, breath hot against his mouth as he groaned, “Gonna fuck it in until it sticks. Make her so full she’ll feel me for days.” His voice cracked on the last word, hips snapping harder, desperate now, balls tight and heavy. He bit at Art’s jaw, grunting into the wet skin, “Take it, take my cum like a good girl.”

The hole squeezed down with a needy sob, and that was it- Patrick slammed deep one last time and stayed there with his cock jerking inside as hot spurts spilled into the tight clench. His groan was guttural, chest pressed hard against Art’s, cock grinding as if to force every drop further in. The flood was too much, slick spilling past the stretch of his rim and sliding down onto the sheets..Art wailed into his shoulder, his own cock giving another weak spurt into the lace as his belly fluttered around the cock pumping him full. “Hhnnhh- ahh, oh god, it’s so much- so hot inside- ” His body shook beneath Patrick’s weight, every pulse of cum making his thighs twitch.

Patrick stayed buried, groaning through his teeth as his hips gave short, messy thrusts, grinding the cum deeper. “Look at that- stuffed full, leaking around my cock. She’s bred good.” He kissed Art roughly, tongue pushing past his lips, swallowing every broken whine that slipped out. When he finally pulled back, he stared down at the lace stretched across the sticky slit, his cock still thick inside. “Not letting her give these back. Not after this.” Art’s lashes fluttered, his body limp under the press of weight and heat, but his lips parted with a faint, ruined laugh. “C-can’t… give them back to her anyway,” he whispered, voice wrecked as he shifted, feeling the soaked fabric cling tight against his slit. “They’re… already ruined.”

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⠀⠀⠀twenty-twenty-five © addie / musingsofheaven.

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#i go feral for art in panties #this is beautiful #challengers #challengers smut #artrick

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zweigscore · 6 days ago

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⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ﹙ masterlist ⋮ request ˓ ask .ᐟ ﹚

SALT AND WHISKEY

summary: He’s older, divorced, and definitely not supposed to be the one you can’t stop looking at across the bar. But one look turned into a kiss, and one kiss turned into his hands all over you. Turns out the silver in his hair comes with a whole lot of experience, and he’s more than ready to remind you how good an older man can make you feel.

pairings: older!art donaldson x afab!reader

warnings: 2.4k words. mature themes. big age gap. (50s m / younger f) alcohol use. unprotected p in v. internal ejaculation / creampie. oral sex. (f!receiving) cum play / cum eating. hair pulling. light choking. praise kink. read responsibly.

note: this is just a quick writing for all of you since it might take me some time finishing the orders from my 1k celebration reqs! and i apologize because i didn’t proofread this.

Art Donaldson never thought he would be single in his fifties. He had spent decades tied down, raising a family, pretending the marriage was still worth holding on to, until one day he realized it wasn’t. The divorce had been settled years ago, but he never touched dating apps, never went chasing for someone new. Life became quiet, predictable, and maybe that was fine. When an old friend texted him about a reunion, Art didn’t think much of it. “Come out with us for drinks? Just one night.” He almost said no, but the push of guilt and the chance to see familiar faces made him cave. That was how he ended up in a crowded bar here. The place is full of kids half his age, music too loud for his liking, drinks spilling everywhere, and laughter from wasted drinkers.

He nursed a glass of whiskey at the edge of the booth while pretending he belonged even when the table beside him broke out in cheers over a drinking game. His friends leaned into the noise. They even joked about how he looked like someone’s father checking up on them. Art chuckled and played along, even muttering, “Maybe I am. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you idiots.” Still, the place was far from where he fit. He felt eyes brush over him now and then, though he dismissed it as curiosity, maybe judgment. But one pair of eyes lingered longer than the rest. You had noticed him- really noticed. And when you leaned over to whisper something to your friend, he caught the way they grinned before pushing you forward like it’s some challenge you have to do.

You crossed the floor with an easy sway in your steps, your drink half-full in your hand. His first instinct wasn’t to turn you away. It was to watch you come closer, lips already curving as if you had something planned. “Not sure you’re the usual type that comes here,” you teased, stopping right in front of him. Art leaned back in his chair, his shoulders loose, voice low enough to make you lean closer. “I’m just here for supervision duty. Not really drinking much.” His mouth pulled into a smirk as his eyes dragged slowly over your face, down to the line of your shirt, and back up. “But I take it you don’t mind that.”

And you don’t mind, not really. Not when you managed to lock a night with him the moment you walked over back in the bar. Now you are messily kissing him the second he opens the door of his home. His back barely hits the doorframe before your mouth pushes hard against his, teeth clicking for a second before both of you laugh into it. Art tastes like whiskey and the mint he probably chewed in the car, and when his tongue licks into your mouth you moan into him. His hands are steady on your waist at first, but they slide lower when you grind into him. Fingers pressing tight over your ass before he pulls you in closer. Your chest smashed against his as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

“Christ, you’re fucking hot,” he mutters against your lips. His breath is rough as if he doesn’t believe his luck. His palm comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb dragging across your cheekbone. “Can’t believe you wanted me of all people.” Not that he’s not confident about how he looks, he is. It’s just been a long time since people have been straightforward with him like this. Maybe way back in his prime, yes. But now? Not much. “Shut up,” you murmur and you kiss him again to shut his mouth. It’s harder this time. The sound that escapes him is low. A groan that rumbles against your lips before he kisses you back. Slow but firmer like he wants to savor how you taste.

The wall is behind your back before you realize he moved you. Your thighs squeeze against him when his body presses flush to yours. He breaks the kiss and nips your bottom lip not long after just to tease you. The breath against your mouth feels hot and he’s shaking a little. “You’re gorgeous,” his voice is low and firm when he compliments you and it sounds like he’s stating a fact. “Let me take care of you tonight.” Your nails dig into the back of his shirt as you nod. Lips parting for him again when he claims your mouth. His kiss grows messier and wetter. The kind that leaves your lips sore. You moan when his tongue curls with yours, when his hand slides under the hem of your top to stroke your skin.

“Mm, yeah, like that,” you whisper into him. He answers by lifting you, arms firm around your thighs, and you gasp when your legs wrap tight around his hips. The kiss doesn’t stop, your mouths crashing together as he carries you through the hall. Every step jolts your body into his, your cunt pressed over the hard line of his cock straining in his pants. You break the kiss to pant against his ear, breath catching as you rub against him. “Fuck, I can feel you already,” he stated before chuckling. It’s deep and a little self-conscious but cocky enough to hide it. “Yeah, sweetheart, you’ll feel all of me once we get in that room.” His lips find your neck before you feel his teeth dragging over your skin just enough to make you moan loudly as he kicks open the bedroom door.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, both of you are already panting, lips swollen, and clothes tugged out of place. He hovers over you and looks down with a grin that doesn’t hide the want in his eyes. “Haven’t kissed like that in years,” he admits, thumb brushing the spit-slick corner of your mouth before leaning in for another. It didn’t take long before both of you were naked and the clothes were scattered across the floor. His chest is pressed to yours, warm skin against warm skin, the weight of his body pinning you into the bed. His cock is heavy in his hand as he lines himself up, the blunt head dragging through your wet slit before he slowly pushes inside.

The stretch makes your mouth fall open needy moan spilling out while your nails scratch down his back. His breath catches against your neck, the sound raw, like he’s been starved for this. “Fuck… you’re tight,” he groans. His voice is quiet and strained. He pushes deeper. Inch by inch until he bottoms out and stays there with his chest heaving. “Jesus, it’s been so fucking long. I almost forgot how good this feels.” Your legs hook around his waist and hold him there. Every pulse of his cock inside you makes your body twitch, the pressure almost too much but not enough at the same time. You gasp into his ear, “Feels so full… fuck, Art.”

His mouth finds yours again, slower now, kissing you through the first sharp wave of sensation. His tongue strokes over yours while his hips roll forward. The drag of his cock pulls a louder moan from your throat. “That’s it,” he murmurs against your lips and his words are hot and rough. “God, you’re- I’ve been missing this for years.” He moves with care at first. Savoring every squeeze around him as if he’s memorizing it. His groan is deep when your pussy clenches tight around him. “You don’t even know,” he mutters, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. “My ex hadn’t let me touch her like this in years before the divorce- I can’t remember the last time I felt something this good. Not since I was young.”

Your fingers grip his jaw and drag his mouth back to yours. The kiss is messy, both of you gasping into it while his thrusts grow steadier. His hips grind into yours, cock rubbing every spot that makes your legs tremble around him. “Fuck, you feel so good inside me,” you pant, biting his lip before letting it go. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and hungry. “You’re so fucking tight. Haven’t had a cunt like this in twenty years.” He punctuates it with a slow thrust that makes you whimper into his mouth. His hand slides up to hold your throat gently and his thumb strokes the side of your neck. The touch is firm but careful. He’s grounding you while he moves inside you. “You’re taking me so well,” he says, his voice breaking on a grunt as your walls clamp down around him. “Every inch. Shit, you’re making me lose it.”

Your body arches under his while every drag of his cock leaves your pussy wetter and every push pulls broken sounds out of your throat. He kisses you again but it’s more deep and possessive than earlier as though he doesn’t want a single sound to escape without him tasting it. His body starts moving harder and his hips slam into yours with steady force that makes the bed rock under both of you. Every thrust drives a choked sound out of your throat with your nails clawing into his shoulders. Sweat drips down his temple while his muscles feel tighter as he pounds you. It only reminds you of who he used to be. Strong arms, a wide chest, and stamina that refuses to give in. A man who trained his whole life to push through limits, and now all of that energy is focused on fucking you deep into his mattress.

You reach for the back of his head and your fingers thread through the gray hair. The strands are coarse under your touch, but they feel good wrapped in your hand as you tug him closer for another messy kiss. His mouth crashes against yours, lips wet, tongue pushing past yours as he groans into you. “You’re gorgeous,” he mutters against your lips when you pull back just enough to breathe. His eyes flicker over your face and his eyes are hungry and adoring. His voice broke with each thrust. “Look at you… Taking me like this. You feel so good around me.” The moan that slipped out of your mouth is loud and cut off immediately. It turns into a gasp when he slams into you. “F-fuck, Art- How the hell do you have this much energy?”

That makes him laugh, low and rough, before he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Perks of being a retired athlete,” he grunts, rolling his hips deeper. “Didn’t think I’d be using it here though.” You tug harder on his hair, tilting his head so you can kiss him again. His tongue pushes deep into your mouth, the kiss sloppy as both of you pant into each other. Your body jolts with every thrust, your pussy clenching tight around him until his groan turns guttural. “Mm, fuck,” you whimper into his lips. “You feel so big. Cock’s filling me up so deep.” His hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up so he can look at you while he fucks into you harder. “Yeah? You like how I stretch you out?”

His thumb rubs over your wet bottom lip. “Tight little cunt around me… Christ, you’re making me lose my mind.” You whine when he hits deep again, your legs tightening around his waist. “You’re hot- I can’t even… you’re older and you’re still so fucking hot.” His groan is broken, chest shaking as he presses his forehead to yours. “Say that again,” he mutters, his thrusts never slowing. “Say it while I’m inside you,” he repeats himself before he thrusts deeply again. “You’re hot,” you pant before biting at his lip. “You feel better than anyone I’ve been with.” His face twists with something between pride and disbelief. His mouth falls open before he kisses you again. It’s rough and hungry.

The bed creaks under his pace and makes your body bounce with each thrust as he takes you harder. He's never far from you as his hand is always stroking your cheek or gripping your thigh like he can’t get enough of touching you. His thrusts turn heavier. Maintaining the same steady and strong pace, and you can feel the sweat gathering between your skin and his. The bed creaks under the push of his hips while your thighs tremble, hooked tight around him. Every deep drag of his cock drags messy moans out of you until your voice breaks, and he grits out against your mouth, “That’s it… Take it for me, just like that.” His praise hits low, warm in your stomach, and it makes the tension snap inside you.

Heat floods out of you all at once, your cunt fluttering and squeezing around him as if your body refuses to let go. He curses under his breath when you clamp down, “Fuck, you’re clenching so tight on me,” and he doesn’t slow down. Instead, he drives deeper, letting you ride the high while his cock pulses hard inside you. The sound of your wetness spreads with every push until his jaw locks and he buries himself all the way in, cock twitching as he spills. His groan is rough against your ear, and you can feel the hot rush filling you until it leaks down the back of your thigh. You think he’s done, but then he pulls out, cock still heavy, and drops to his knees between your legs. His tongue finds your swollen pussy immediately, licking into the mess he just left inside you. The sight makes your stomach twist, his salt and pepper hair between your thighs, broad shoulders holding you wide open.

His mouth is greedy but steady, dragging through your folds and sucking at your clit until you’re gasping and tugging at his hair. He looks up when you pull too hard, his mouth shiny, and he growls against your cunt, “Don’t stop… keep playing with it. Drives me fucking crazy.” You do, threading your fingers through the strands, nails scratching lightly at his scalp while he keeps eating you out. He watches you as you watch him, his eyes fixed on every twitch of your face while your legs squeeze around his head. The contrast of his age shows clearly here, your hands tangled in hair streaked silver as your hips grind forward, chasing his tongue. It makes you wetter, makes your chest heave, because he looks so damn good like this- older, eager, and attractive not to fuck with.

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⠀⠀⠀ twenty-twenty-five © addie / musingsofheaven.

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zweigscore · 6 days ago

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ok i should try and start writing that one artrashi x patrick fic i thought of a while ago sometime soon. but my period is my excuse to not do it right now. but also after that i will need to find more ideas for challengers fics

#gimme ideas if u want #rant #challengers

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zweigscore · 7 days ago

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patrick zweig, blowjob queen

#when my art motivation comes back i will draw #patrick zweig #challengers

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zweigscore · 7 days ago

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Blow and Blow p-link

summary: Patrick is frat president so he does as he pleases. Leveraging his power to get paired up with a certain blonde while they play a game. Patrick only bends the rules a teeny tiny bit.

pairing: frat president!patrick zweig x frat pledge!art donaldson

cw: nsfw (18+), dubcon/coercion, power play, drug use, blowjobs

a/n: this is for dani (@ghostgirl-22) bc I tell her every single little idea that pops into my head and even tho I did post about this one yesterday, this is one I actually executed so yayyyyy

Patrick lurks in the corner of the room with his eyes set on Art. The room is fully dark with the only light in the room coming from the hallway, peeking in from the crack in the door. He watches intently as Art gets shoved into the room and the door slammed shut behind him, leaving them in total darkness.

Patrick planned this because duh why wouldn’t he. They play this game every year with every class of pledges, each member assigned a pledge “at random” to go in a room and play the game. But it was never truly random. As president, Patrick always picked the prettiest pledge to play with, and this semester the object of his desires was Art Donaldson. 6ft, blonde curly hair, blue eyes, and a great ass.

Switching on the singular lamp so the room becomes dimly lit, Patrick watches Art’s eyes widen slightly. Shocked that the person performing this “test” was actually the frat president, the person he needed to impress the most if he wanted to make the cut.

Patrick gestures for Art to come closer so he can rattle off the rules, “The game is simple. Blow and Blow.” He smirks, gesturing to the pre cut lines of coke on the table next to him and adjusting his half hard dick in his shorts.

Art’s face visibly drops, “Isn’t it usually Blow or Blow?”

“My frat, my rules. Every pledge plays the same game so, either you’re gonna do it or you can run home like all the other pussies. I’ll make sure you never set foot in another frat party on campus ever again,” Patrick shrugs easily. He wanted to apply pressure, see how Art would react given the ultimatum. Praying it was convincing enough to get Art on his knees.

It’s an internal battle in Art’s head, weighing the pros and cons. He’s wanted to be in this frat for over a year now, the opportunities, the networking, and obviously the partying were too good pass up on. “Fine,” he concedes reluctantly. Hoping the coke will help him loosen up and not think too much about what’s to come after.

He snatches the tightly rolled up bill from Patrick and does two lines back to back to ensure it hits. “Artie came to party,” Patrick jests, light laugh leaving his lips.

Art keeps his face dangerously neutral. He’s so pissed off that he has to do both but whatever. He’s not gonna give Patrick the satisfaction of having any illusion that Art is enjoying any of this.

He sinks to his knees in front of Patrick, eye level with the slight bulge in his shorts. He doesn’t even look up at Patrick, just stares straight ahead waiting for Patrick to pull his cock out. Except Patrick has his own plans.

“Don’t be shy Donaldson. You can do it, I believe in you.”

Whatever asshole, is what Art wants to say but he chooses silence. Zipping down Patrick’s fly and pulling his now fully hard cock out. Jesus christ why is it so big? How the fuck is Art supposed to do this?

“Don’t act like you don’t know how to hold a dick. I’m sure you’ve spent countless hours fucking your fist wishing it was some girl,” Now Patrick’s just taking the piss. Like Art isn’t already ticked off. No, he wanted to see how much Art would take before he got fed up. So he keeps pressing, “Never seen one this big before hm? I can tell.”

Art takes a sharp inhale through his nose and dives right in. Not saying anything back, he doesn’t want to give Patrick any further enjoyment. He tries to not be awkward switching between bobbing with just his mouth to adding his hand in the mix for the parts he couldn’t reach. He still weirdly enough, wants to do a good job. Maybe if he does really well then it would guarantee his acceptance into this frat.

And Patrick seems to be enjoying himself. He’s not holding back with his moans. Art looks up for a second, only a second, just curious. Luckily Patrick’s eyes are closed and his head is thrown back in ecstasy. At least someone is enjoying this, Art thinks only for his own shorts to start to tighten. What?

Patrick has a strong grip on Art’s curls, even going as far as to start thrusting into Art’s mouth. It takes Art aback but he adjusts because he doesn’t wanna fuck this up, breathing through his nose and trying not to gag frequently. Just because he wanted to do a good job doesn’t mean he wants to feed into Patrick’s ego anymore.

“Fuck I’m close,” Patrick gasps looking down Art who still looks focused as ever. Not a sign of enjoyment in his face but Patrick can see the prominent bulge in Art’s shorts. Got him.

Art tries to pull off, making incoherent noises of protest because as much as he wanted to impress this egotistical idiot, he did not want Patrick’s cum in his mouth.

Patrick tightens his grip in Art’s hair, holding Art’s head still. Tip of his cock pressed against the back of Art’s throat. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll swallow. Don’t pussy out now. Do you wanna get in or not?” Patrick grunts out. Making his last few thrusts before spilling down Art’s throat.

Of course Art wants to get in. That’s why he agreed to this in the first place but fuck. Not like this. Whatever. He’s sure it could be worse. Fine. Fine. He’ll swallow. Whatever.

Once Patrick releases his grip, Art swallows down the rest of whatever was in his mouth. Coughing afterwards from how he choked down the cum that lingered in his throat. He’s panting, out of breath. He didn’t realize how much work blowjobs are, he has a new found appreciation for all the girls he’s hooked up with.

Patrick tilts Art’s chin up, instructing him to open his mouth. Inspecting to ensure Art’s swallowed it all.

“Good boy. Passed with flying colors,” Patrick grins zipping up his fly. He makes his way towards the door, leaving Art with, “I’m sure the next games will be much easier.”

The good boy comment goes straight to his dick which he chooses to ignore. Next games? Fuck. Art thought this would give him a free pass until the selection process would Patrick would nominate Art to be selected. Fuck this and Fuck Patrick Zweig.

Art later learns that others in his pledge class played Blow or Blow. He keeps his anger to himself because he doesn’t want to say, Well I had to suck off the president and swallow his cum because I had no choice. Doesn’t sound too great.

He will be even more pissed when he finds out the next game would be dryhumping and whoever cums first loses. Which okay wouldn’t be so bad, but you have to keep going until someone cums.

Patrick already has his partner picked out for that.

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zweigscore · 7 days ago

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oh my loves, you will live forever.

#NEW CONTENT #challengers never dies #challengers #zendaya #josh o'connor #mike faist #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan

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zweigscore · 7 days ago

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need to put eyeliner and mascara on art and make him cry, and watch it smear down his face as his eyes go red from the tears 😋

#he’s such a pretty crier #art donaldson #challengers #mike faist

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zweigscore · 7 days ago

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Neeeed your fruity Tashi x Helen fic 😍

ask and you shall receive :)))

WHITE WINE & POMEGRANATE

SYNOPSIS: patrick needs help getting his stuff from helen’s house after the challenger is over, now planning to move in with art and tashi. tashi agrees to help but is star struck by the woman she sees.

PARINGS: tashi duncan x helen, slight tashi x art & art x patrick

CW(18+): porn w/ plot, cheating, fingering, cunnilingus, tribbing, slight intoxication, not proofread <\3

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

AO3 LINK

the ending of the challenger was very relieving, but also so stressful after all they’ve been through. the highs and lows of their relationship coming back and being created. it especially got to tashi, but she’s glad to have her life back to what it was like, back in that hotel room.

she would never admit it out loud, but she’s happy to have patrick back in her life. like part of her had finally healed. but there was still a lot of healing left to do.

the three of them had gone out that night for dinner, and to reconnect. really reconnect, catching up, finding their energy and flow again. it was really beautiful.

they managed to come across the topic of where patrick would live.

“i don’t really have a place to stay, you know? i’m still just going from house to house i guess.” he admitted from behind his beer.

“you could stay with us?” art pitched. patrick looked over at tashi with surprise behind his eyes, looking for her approval. the smile on her face was all that needed to be said.

ㅤꨄ︎

“so where are you staying right now?” art asked. they were all slowly walking towards their cars, the night breeze hitting them just right. patrick’s cigarette hung from his lips.

“i’m staying at this girls house i met… on tinder.” he blew the smoke out.

“is this the same girl from the hotel?” tashi asked.

“yeah. uh… helen.”

tashi recalled seeing her. she sat at the bar, on their date; brown hair coming just past her shoulders and styled. wine glass in her hand, white wine. her suit perfectly fitted to her figure. her long legs crossed over. she seemed very put together.

“you can’t even remember her name?” tashi half-spat at him.

“no- yeah, her names helen. i’m just crashing there. do you think… maybe, you could help me get my stuff from hers? i dont have a lot, i just need someone else there with me.” he spoke down to the ground, stepping on the cig to put it out.

tashi leant against the side of the car.

“sure. you go home art, we’ll be back.” she tossed art the keys and winked at him.

tashi made her way into patrick’s car and watched art drive off as patrick started the car. patrick looked over to tashi and began to smile, he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off, “we are not fucking patrick.” she said, not looking at him. he let out a sigh.

“later?” he asked.

she gave him a smirk and a shrug as they drove off, making their way to helen’s house.

ㅤꨄ︎

they arrived in front of the house, a nice single story house. patrick parked the car and got out.

“i’ll be back. i’m just gonna talk to her.” he said closing the door and making his way to the front. tashi hopped out of the car, stopping patrick in his tracks.

“what are you doing?” he whispered harshly.

“i’m not sitting in your car, it smells.” she explains.

“can you stand on the other side of the car then?”

“why would i do that? i’m not an animal patrick.”

patrick stops himself, not wanting to start another fight, and starts back towards the house. he knocks on the door, and there stands helen. tashi can just make out her face from the distance. she’s still wearing her suit, must’ve just gonna home. her hair tied up in a neat bun, like she was getting ready to shower maybe?

she sees them talking, and helen peers over patrick’s shoulder, making eye contact with tashi. her body language seems more tense, starting to question and argue with patrick. she pushes him towards the door as she walks towards the car. patrick walks inside and sees helen making her way up to tashi.

“can i help you?” starts helen.

tashi is a little taken aback by this small outburst.

“sorry, im just here with patrick to get his things. he just-“

“i saw you. at the hotel. what are you to him? hook up? girlfriend? you just like stealing dates?” tashi can hear the anger rise in helen’s voice.

“no. i- i don’t know. i’m just here to help him get his things.” tashi tries to raise her voice.

she thought helen would be a bit nicer, maybe she assumed wrong?

helen looks her up and down, biting her lip while catching a thought. “okay. you can have him. i’m over him, he really smells.”

tashi smirks. “i don’t know where he showers.”

“i don’t think he does.”

they both laugh. finally finding a level to meet on.

“i- im so sorry for my outburst. um- im helen.

“it’s fine, i get. i’m tashi.”

helen holds out her hand to which tashi shakes. her hands are soft, a bit cold, and her nails are well manicured.

“i’m sorry you had to live with him, he can be a lot.” tashi says softly, still holding her hand.

“is he moving into your place?”

tashi nods.

“i’m sorry you’re going to have to live with him now.” helen jokes. she lets go of tashi’s hand and crosses her arms, smiling towards the ground.

“you’re living on your own again?”

“i guess so. but it’s okay, i’m so busy with work, i think it’s for the best.” helen replies.

tashi sees patrick opening the door with a bag full of his things, struggling to get out the door. helen looks back and sighs.

“okay, well. you have a good night tashi.”

tashi nods. she sees patrick still struggling with his bags and decided to take the chance. she looks inside the window to see a pen sitting on the back seat. she opens the door to grab it takes helen’s soft hand.

“well, if you ever feel lonely and want to grab drinks. call me.” tashi whispers, writing her number on helen’s palm. their eyes lock, helen’s blue eyes blown and shimmering. they both smile at each other and tashi feels a tug in her chest.

“tash can you help me already?” patrick shouts from the house. she finally moves, grabbing a bag and throwing it in the back seat. patrick places everything inside the car and hops in the front seat without saying goodbye. he starts the car and opens the passenger door for tashi.

“see you.” tashi whispers as she gets in the car, and closes the door. patrick swiftly drives off as helen is left there in her driveway, heart almost broken if it weren’t for the tinge of hope that just bloomed.

patrick turns up the radio loud and speeds down the road.

“you couldn’t even say ‘bye’ to her?” tashi argues. patrick doesn’t respond.

“fucking loser.” she mutters.

ㅤꨄ︎

later that evening tashi sits on the couch, watching some tv show she doesn’t know the name of, slightly dozing off. art walks in and sees her, legs resting on the coffee table. he walks over to her and kneels in the ground, kissing her knee and taking her out of her sleepy state.

“hey.” she says in a groggy voice, her hands find their way into his hair. he kisses up her legs and sits next to her, kissing her neck and cheek.

“how was it with patrick?” his arms come around to hug her and pull her into his body.

“it was fine. i met the girl, she was nice, but patrick was so rude to her.” she relaxes into his touch.

“you think he should be taught a lesson?” art whispers jokingly into her ear. she giggles and rolls her eyes.

“maybe another night.” she kisses his cheek, and meets him in the middle for a full kiss. soft and warm.

she’s so happy to be back to where they were.

her phone buzzes next to her and she sees it’s an unknown caller. art lets her go as she stands up to take the call.

“hello, this is tashi duncan speaking.”

“tashi hi. it’s helen.” the voice from the other side of the phone spoke.

“hi. how are you?”

“i’m okay. sorry for calling so soon, i just. i wanted to ask if you’d like to come over sometime soon? for a drink and to talk?” helen’s voice shook.

“yeah. i’d love that. what time?”

a pause.

“tonight?”

tashi thought for a moment. how would she even get out there tonight without it seeming suspicious?

“sure.”

“see you soon.” the line goes dead.

tashi puts the phone down and sits next to art again.

“who was that?” he asks, settling back into her touch.

“work stuff, don’t worry.” she hums, kissing his head. maybe it won’t be so hard to get out again.

ㅤꨄ︎

an hour goes by. tashi had put lily to bed with a story and a kiss, as art and patrick settled into bed. she walks into their bedroom and already sees patrick passed out. art lays next to patrick, leaving some space for tashi next to him.

“are you coming to bed soon?”

she kneels on the bed and kisses him slowly.

“yes, i’ll be there soon. just go to sleep.”

“okay.” he replies softly, already falling asleep.

by the time tashi goes to leave the room, both the men are deep in a sleep, tangled up in each other.

she gets to the car and drives back to the house she was just at before, with a feeling coming back to her chest.

she parks in the driveway and makes her way to the door, knocking gently.

it opens to a more cozy dressed helen. she’s wearing a blue slip dress, holding a glass of white wine. her demeanor seems more calm.

“hi. come in.”

tashi smiles, taking her shoes off and making her way inside.

“you’re already better than patrick. he never took his shoes off.”

“ugh, of course.” she replies.

helen’s house looks cozy, candles lit around, pictures of paintings and families hung up on the walls, soft colours complimenting the space.

helen sits down on the couch and pats the space next to her. tashi complies and makes herself comfortable.

“would you like a drink? i’ve just got pinot grigio.” helen asks.

“that’s perfect.” tashi smiles as helen pours her a glass with the one that was sitting on the table already.

she takes a sip and already feels comfortable. helen sitting with her legs up on the sofa, head resting on her hand that’s held up by the cushion of the couch. she stares at tashi with admiration.

“so how long have you know patrick?” she starts.

“god. forever it feels like, we met at a party back in 2006, we would’ve been 18 then. but we haven’t actually seen each him in years up until recently.”

“huh. we?” helen questions.

“uh, yeah. me and my husband. he was actually friends with him before i met him. i met them both at the same time, and then i became a home wrecker i suppose.” tashi reminisces.

helen looks at tashi hand, the ring that sits on her finger. she takes her hand and looks at the ring up close.

“so you’re married, huh? what are you doing with patrick then?” she asks.

“it’s- i don’t know where it’s going. we haven’t really gotten into it i guess. i think they wanna talk about it more tomorrow.” tashi’s breath shutters as she feels helen’s hand again.

“and what are you doing here?” she whispers, tashi’s hand close to her lips.

she can feel her breath fan over her fingertips. her eyes locked onto her own brown ones.

helen brings tashi’s finger up to her lips and gently kisses it. tashi can feel the knot in her chest tighten. the gentle kiss turns to helen taking her finger into her mouth, sucking it down to the ring as tashi lets out a small whimper. helen takes the ring between her teeth and slides it off her finger. she takes the ring out of her mouth and murmurs, “would your husband be okay with this?”

tashi pauses in shock, heart racing and heat blooming below. she takes both wine glasses and the ring, placing it on the table in front, and dives in to kiss her. her mouth hot on her lips.

the kiss is messy, rough, and wet. helen opens her mouth and allows tashi to slip her tongue inside, feeling around the walls of her mouth. she tastes like wine and mint. her hands find their way into helen’s hair, undoing her bun and letting her hair fall down to her shoulders. helen’s hands pull tashi in by the waist, allowing tashi to straddle her. helen’s hands feel up under tashi’s top, she grinds down into her lap as helen swallows her moan. tashi tugs at her hair as helen’s hands feel around the curve of her ass, encouraging her to move. both their wet heats meeting behind the fabric of their clothes. helen takes tashi’s lips between her teeth, allowing tashi to moan aloud, head thrown back as helens lips make their way down her neck. she sucks at her jaw, leaving a wet red mark.

helen reaches up to take tashi’s shirt off, black lace bra underneath. her hand comes up to grope her breasts from under the bra, as her mouth continues to work at her collarbone. her tongue licks up her neck and to the shell of her ear.

“mmhh i want you.” helen breathes into her ear. tashi groans, she takes helen’s hand and guides them towards her groin. she humps helen’s hand as her eyes stare into hers. helen’s hand grasps her crotch making tashi jolt. she stands up quickly, taking her pants off and sitting back on helen’s lap.

helen’s hand find their way back beneath tashi, fingers teasing the fabric of her pink panties. they’re soaked with her slick already. helen moves the fabric aside and feels tashi’s slick folds between her fingers.

her fingers slide inside her hole, wetness clenching her as tashi moans and moves her hips.

helen takes her finger out, soaked in tashi’s slick, and guides them up towards her clit, rubbing circles into her.

“hm so wet for me already, your husband can’t do the same?”

tashi, already lost in the feeling, can only manage a series of delicious moans. her lips crash back into helen’s, tongue dancing against hers, as helen’s finger comes back to her entrance, and inserting another, thumb rubbing her clit at the same time.

her fingers move in a perfect motion, hitting the soft spot inside tashi and making the knot tighten below. her heat building up fast. suddenly there’s emptiness below her, helen’s fingers have left and are now at her waist. helen pick her up and flips her on her back, quickly pushing her legs apart, seeing her weeping pussy exposed. she kneels on the ground and looks up at her.

“let me make you feel good.” helen mutters as her breath fans over tashi’s heat. tashi nods as helen laps her folds with her tongue. tashi’s legs spread on the couch, head thrown back as helen eats her out, she’s never felt this good in her life. the pleasure constantly building up makes her head fuzzy. spit drips out of tashi’s mouth, unable to do anything else other than feel good. helen’s tongue pushes up in her entrance as she noses her clit. her juices gush from her as her orgasm almost waves over her.

“w-w—wait.” tashi manages out. helen stops and brings her head up, mouth covered in tashi’s slick.

“is everything okay?” helen questions, panting.

“i- want you. need—feel you.”

helen nods. she pulls tashi’s panties off, and stands up to do the same for herself. tashi moves to lay more on the couch. she lifts her leg up as helen lays on top of her, pussy hovering over tashi’s. their slicks meet, gliding in circles and their moans sync. their hips jolt together as their clits bump. helen’s lips meet tashi’s again, tasting herself on her lips. she feels hot, pleasure surrounding her. helen meets her movements, grinding down in time. they both get lost in the feeling and end up breathing into each others mouths, chasing their impending orgasms. they jump each other in a feral way, almost animalistic.

“tashi, mphm, gonna come-“ helen moans.

all tashi can respond with is a messy nod, nose bumping hers. their movements become more erratic as they both come with gentle screams. slick gushing out of both of their heats. helen collapses on top of tashi, both coming down from their highs. tashi pants into helen’s hair. she smells like pomegranate. helen gently kisses tashi’s throat, coming back to earth.

“shit.” tashi huffs out. she’s never had an orgasm like that. never thought she’d have one with a woman, but now that she has she feels addicted to it.

“maybe you could stay over, if you’d like that?” helen asks.

tashi thinks for a moment. art and patrick lay in bed at their hotel room, not knowing what she has just done. she feels guilty, but slightly less guilty than she did last night.

this isn’t the craziest thing in their relationship, one more hook up couldn’t hurt.

#writing tashi duncan and not tashi donaldson #challengers #tashi duncan #tashi duncan smut #challengers fic #challengers smut #helen challengers #tashi duncan x helen #art donaldson #patrick zweig #wren writes ✐ᝰ.ᐟ #wlw

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