i am slowly challengers-ifying my wardrobe. next victims are tashi's JC zip up and art's green striped button up
pleak ash my angel, I beg for a song
my sweet!
how about this one...
đđđ
english major. aspiring writer & cinephile. european. queer. fake fashion icon.
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ â ââââ ââââđ đ at the beach, in every life.
so so glad i got to know him through challengers josh I !! LOVE !! YOU !!
art donaldson pop boy please please please đđđđ
POP GIRL⢠After-Sale Service đž
Request received. Heart Logged.
The Art Donaldson POP BOY⢠is currently in fabricationâcoded with restraint, loyalty, and the kind of softness that only reveals itself when youâre not looking. He wonât come on strong. Heâll sit with you in the quiet.
This unit is made for users who want to be chosen slowly. Who crave steady eyes, clean hands and a devotion that linger like echo.
Youâve been approved for early sync.
đ˝ With quiet devotion,
POP GIRL⢠After-Sale Service
âHe doesnât rush. He remembers.ââ˘
hahaha oh my god OH MY GOD.
MIKA DARLING YESSS you deserve 200000 more followers but this is a start <3 is this my time to request the dodge mason massaging you after a fall from a horse thing we talked about ...
200 FOLLOWERS GAME.
ASH!! thank you so much for this oh my God! i had a spark of imagination for this so hopefully youâll like it! đ hereâs Dodge Mason massaging you after a bad fall. fluffy but hinting at something more. đŤśđť
You didnât cry when you fell. Not when your ribs slammed into the packed dirt, not when the air was punched clean out of your lungs, and not when the horse spooked and left you behind like yesterdayâs news. You were fine. Or so you told everyone.
Dodge didnât believe you.
Which is why youâre here now, laid out on your stomach in his dimly lit bedroom, shirt bunched up just enough to reveal your bruised back. The air smells like peppermint oil and laundry detergent. His handsâbig and steady and warmâpress slow circles into the knots gathering just beneath your shoulder blades.
âYou tense up every time I touch you,â he says, voice low and rough. âWhatâs that about?â
You huff into his pillow. âBecause youâre touching me.â
That earns a small laugh, something rare and secret, like the glint in his eyes when he looks at you for too long. âIâm trying to help.â
âYou are,â you admit, breath catching when his thumbs dip lower. âBut maybe donât sound so smug about it.â
His hands trail lower, finding the bruises blooming over your hips. He hesitates, fingertips ghosting the edge of your waistband. âYou hurting here too?â
âMhm,â you breathe.
âYou gotta tell me if itâs too much.â
âItâs not.â
And it isnâtânot the pressure, not the heat curling low in your stomach, not the way his hands are careful but firm, like he knows exactly what kind of touch you need. You feel him shift above you, the bed dipping as he leans closer, breath brushing your ear.
âYou scared me today,â he murmurs.
âIâm okay now.â
He hums, mouth barely grazing your shoulder. âYeah. You are.â
His hands linger longer than they should, fingertips slipping just under the waistband of your leggings, not pushingâjust asking. And maybe you shouldnât want this, not after falling off a damn horse. But his hands are gentle, and his voice is softer than youâve ever heard it, and when he says, âTell me what you need,â your body answers for you.
Itâs him. Itâs always been him.
i have literally NEVER felt this way about a man before ever
ash my beloved <333 am i too late to ask for a song?? â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
hmmm actually yes you're too late.
i'm joking ofcourse you can have a song my love
(this song means the world to me)
y'all... Y'ALL... WAKE THE FUCK UP
summary: after months of teasing flirtation behind the hot topic counter, you finally gives in to the pull of patrick zweigâscene king, bratty flirt, and walking contradiction. when your stolen moment in the storage room turns heated, patrick takes his time breaking you in with dirty praise, rough fingers, and all the cocky charm heâs been holding back. itâs messy, breathless, and just the beginning of something dangerous.
pairing: scene emo!patrick x sunshine!afab reader.
cw: +18. mdni. 2.5k words. graphic smut. fingering (reader!receiving), protected penetration. soft dom patrick. naive virgin reader. impact play (thighs & cunt slapping), praising. dirty-talk. dumbification. multiple orgasms. dacryphilia. overstimulation. drooling. messy makeout. short oral through panties.
taglist: @blastzachilles @lvve-talks @jordiemeow @strfallz @222col @soulxinxthexsky @diyasgarden @jinxedbambi @lexiiscorect @religionlost @bluestrd @jclolz22 @destinedtobegigi @fwaist @imperishablereverie @lovefaist @shahabaqsa0310 @prismozo @jesuistrestriste @grimsonandclover
You knew it was going to happen eventually. You just didnât know it would happen in the storage room of a Hot Topic, surrounded by boxes of skull-print socks and anime figurines.
But thatâs just what being around Patrick Zweig did to you.
Youâd been flirting with him for months. Not in a loud, confident way like the other girls who batted their lashes at him by the band tee wall. Yours was softerâoffering him extra buttons when he came to the register, complimenting his chipped black nail polish when he reached for his wallet, pretending not to notice when he lingered by the counter even after his receipt printed.
Heâd flirted back, of course. In his own way.
Calling you sweetheart with a twist in his voice that made your stomach flip. Giving you smirks that looked like secrets. Letting his fingers brush yours when he passed you his phone to scan his rewards.
You were opposites in every way. Where you wore soft colors and lip gloss that smelled like strawberries, Patrick wore black mesh and enough eyeliner to drown in. Your aesthetic was all pastel sweaters and fuzzy clips. His was a walking Hot Topic clearance rack from 2006âchains, skinny jeans, shredded sleeves, and that ever-present smirk behind a lip ring piercing.
And somehow, it worked.
Youâd built something in those months. A tension. A pull. You didnât know exactly what he saw in you, but youâd catch him staring sometimes, like he was trying to figure out how someone like you had ended up working in a place like this.
He never pushed. Just waited. Until tonight.
The mall was nearly empty. You were checking the accessories stocks in the back when you heard the familiar squeak of the front gate rolling up. Your manager had left an hour ago, and your shift was officially overâbut you were dragging your feet. Yet, all you wanted was to see Patrick again.
Speak of the devil.
âHey, pastel princess,â came that drawl behind youâsoft, amused, cocky. The nickname he gave you as teasing.
You turned, heart jumping. âPatrick. Youâre not supposed to be here.â
He was standing in the doorway of the back room, framed by the flickering overhead light. His shirt was ripped in three places, layered over a fishnet long-sleeve. Chains swung from his hips. His black bangs fell messily across his eyes, framing that smug little half-smile like a picture in a cracked frame.
âYou said to stop by after close.â He shrugged, playing with the chains of his jeans.
âI meant like⌠out front. Not in the storage closet.â
He stepped inside anyway. âYouâre the one who left the back door propped open.â He teased again, smirking like he so knew how to do.
You flushed, hugging a folded tee to your chest. âI didnât think youâd actually come.â He reached you in three slow steps. âBeen thinking about coming all day.â
You stared at him, lips parting slightly. His voice was low, almost lazyâbut there was heat behind it. Real heat. The kind youâd only heard in whispered fantasies at night when your room was dark and your fingers drifted beneath your sheets. Like the air had shifted and you knew exactly was going to happen; something you both had thought about before but never acted upon.
Your eyes fell to his lips, red flushing your cheeks with the ideas running through your mind. Of what was going to happen.
âPatrickâŚâ Your voice was smaller than you meant it to be.
His eyes dropped to your lips. âWe donât have to do anything you donât want to.â
âI want to,â you said quickly, almost breathless. âI justâIâve neverâŚâ It was embarrassing to say. Something flickered across his face. Not surprise. Something gentler.
His fingers brushed your cheek. âThatâs okay, sweetheart. Iâll take care of you.â
And just like that, the air in the room changed.
Patrick kissed you like heâd been dreaming about it for weeks. Like heâd been holding back every time you smiled at him from behind the register or blushed when he called you baby.
He kissed with his whole mouthâopen, messy, tongue dragging against yours with hungry precision. The cool touch of his lip ring made you whimper, and he swallowed it eagerly, gripping your waist like he couldnât believe you were finally in his hands.
âGod, you taste so fucking sweet,â he muttered, kissing down your jaw, your neck. âKnew youâd be like candy. Even look like one.â
You gripped the hem of his shirt, your fingers slipping beneath the holes in the fabric. You could feel the hard lines of his stomach under the fishnet. Every little sound he made vibrated through you.
âTell me if Iâm going too fast,â he murmured, tugging your cardigan off your shoulders.
âNo,â you said quickly. âPlease donât stop.â
That grin came backâdark and dangerous. He backed you into a stack of folded hoodie boxes, hands roaming your body with a worshipful kind of greed. When his fingers reached the hem of your skirt, he paused.
âYouâre really letting me ruin this cute little outfit?â he asked, cocking a brow. âThis baby pink, virgin-girl aesthetic?â His way of asking if you were sure of what you were doing.
You squirmed, nodding. âItâs yours.â
That broke him.
Patrick dropped to his knees like it was instinct, hands already sliding up your thighs beneath your pastel skirt. He moved with the kind of focus that made your breath hitchâthe kind of hunger youâd only imagined in late-night fantasies again, but even your dirtiest thoughts hadnât gone this far. That made your breath hitch.
âFuck, youâre soft everywhere,â he murmured, pushing your skirt up with both hands. âBet youâre soaked, huh? All that sweet little smiling and pretendingâyouâve been aching for this.â
You nodded helplessly, your fingers curling in the fabric of your skin to pull it up some more as he nosed against your inner thigh. The tip of his nose smelling your skin as if it was the last thing heâd ever smell in his life.
He hooked a finger under your cotton pantiesâwhite, simple, with a delicate little bow at the waist that now looked obscene between your thighsâand dragged them down slowly, his lip ring brushing your skin as he went. When he got them off, he brought them to his face and breathed in. The disgusting pervert.
âYou donât even know what youâre doing to me,â he groaned. âYou smell like fucking heaven.â
You could barely breathe. Your legs were shaking.
Then his mouth was on youâhot, wet, and absolutely filthy.
He started slow, tongue dragging flat from your dripping hole to your clit, letting out a low hum like he was tasting frosting straight from the bowl. But then he got mean with it. Sloppier. He licked and sucked and groaned into your pussy like heâd been starving for it. When his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked just hard enough to make your hips jump, you whimpered.
âPatrickââ
âYeah, baby?â he said between licks, his voice rough and amused. âThat feel good?â
You nodded rapidly, breath catching when he licked right against your entrance and pushed two fingers in at onceâslowly, but firmly. They filled you more than you expected, the stretch hot and satisfying. He moved them in slow curls, tongue flicking over your clit in time.
âShitâtightest little cunt Iâve ever felt,â he grunted, thrusting his fingers a little deeper. âYou been keeping this sweet pussy all to yourself?â You cried out softly, overwhelmed already, and he laughedâlow and cruel and adoring all at once.
âLook at you,â he cooed, licking a stripe up to your clit and slapping your inner thigh hard enough to make your breath catch. âYou love it. Getting your virgin cunt eaten in a dirty storage room.â
He rubbed your clit harder with his tongue, letting spit drip down his chin. His fingers never stopped, stretching you open, curling just right inside you, brushing that special spot that left you breathless. âYou gonna come for me, sweetheart?â he asked, voice vibrating against your pussy. âYou gonna soak my fingers like a good girl?â
You were panting now, shaking, but not quite thereâeverything was building slowly, pressure mounting.
âFeels goodâso goodâjust donât stop,â you gasped.
âOh, Iâm not stopping,â he promised. âIâm gonna make you fall apart so fucking hard you forget your own name.â
He slapped your pussy lightly thenânot hard, but sharpâjust enough to jolt you. You moaned at the sensation, your slick making an audible mess between his fingers.
âYou like that? You like getting your pussy slapped, you filthy girl?â
You whimpered, hips twitching. He slapped againâjust once more, and returned to rubbing your clit with his spit-slick thumb while he fucked you with his fingers, deeper and faster now.
âIâm closeâPatrickâoh godââ
âSay my name when you come. Let me hear whoâs making this sweet thing cry.â
And when you finally tipped over the edge, it wasnât a dainty little climaxâit was devastating. Your whole body seized, thighs clamping around his head, your slick gushing around his fingers as your voice cracked on his name. You were moaning and drooling and trembling in his grip, and he loved every second of it.
âThatâs it,â he groaned, still fingering you through the aftershocks. âFucking ruined.â When he pulled his fingers out, they glistened with your slick. He licked them clean, watching you the whole time.
âStill with me, baby?â he asked, tugging his belt loose with one hand.
You nodded, dazed. âYeahâŚâ He leaned in and kissed youâwet, messy, you could taste your own sweetness in his mouth. You moaned into it. âGood,â he murmured. ââCause Iâm not done with you yet.â
Patrick tugged a condom from his back pocketâripped it open with his teeth, like he was showing off just how ready heâd been for this. You watched him shove his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself, your breath catching at the sight of him hard and flushed and heavy in his hand. Tip leaking pre-cum, veins running along the length of him.
He stroked himself slowly, eyes locked on you as he rolled the condom on. âStill wanna keep going, baby?â
You nodded, wide-eyed. You were flushed, fucked-out from his mouth and fingers, but aching for more. Your thighs were trembling where they hung open, but he didnât hesitateâhe stepped in close, grabbed your hips, and tugged you forward on the stacked inventory box like he owned you.
âThis your first time, right?â he asked, voice a little gentler now under the gravel.
âYeahâŚâ
âOkay,â he said, brushing your hair out of your face. âIâll go slowâat first. Iâll take care of you, baby.â
He lined himself up, rubbing his tip through the slick mess heâd already made of you. You gasped, your whole body twitching when he tapped against your overstimulated clit. Then he gripped the back of your thighs and tilted your hips just right before starting to press in.
It burned a littleâhe was thick, stretching you open in ways nothing had beforeâbut it was good. So, so good. Patrick hissed through his teeth, jaw clenching. âJesus fucking Christ, youâre tight.â
He rocked forward slowly, giving you time, but every inch felt like fireâlike he was imprinting himself on your body. You whimpered, head falling back as your hands fisted in his shirt.
âThatâs it,â he murmured, leaning close to kiss the side of your throat. âYouâre taking me so well. Just like I knew you would, sunshine.â
When he was finally seated fully inside you, he didnât move right away. He just held you there, hips snug against yours, letting you adjust. âBreathe for me, sweet girl. I got you.â
You listened to him, taking deep and full breath, and nodded your head at him. At that, Patrick started to move his hips.
Slow at firstâjust gentle pulls and pushes, his hands steady on your waist; but every thrust made a wet slap echo in the quiet storage room. His pace started to build, pulling moans from your lips you didnât even know you could make.
âYou like getting fucked like this?â he panted. âOn a fucking cardboard box, dripping all over me, stuffed full for the first time?â
âYesâoh Godâyesââ
âBet you never thought your first timeâd be with some scene boy in eyeliner fucking the brains out of you behind a wall of Nightmare Before Christmas backpacks, huh?â He joked, lightening the mood.
You whimpered, though. Your head was fuzzy, your body too hot. Every time he snapped his hips forward, the stretch burned so good, your eyes rolled back.
âToo much?â he asked, even as his pace deepened.
âNo,â you gasped. âJustâjust moreâpleaseââ
That made him grin, wicked and warm. âKnew you were a needy little thing. All that pastel bullshitâs just a cover. You were made to be ruined by me, sunshine.â
He grabbed your face, tilted it up, and kissed you deepâfilthy and hot, all tongue and teeth. You moaned into his mouth, your spit slicking both your chins. When he pulled back, there was drool connecting your lips, and he groaned like it was the hottest thing heâd ever seen.
âFucking dripping for me,â he growled, pulling out halfway just to slam back in. You gasped. Then he slapped your thighâhardâand your pussy clenched around him so tight he nearly lost it.
âOh, you liked that? You liked getting spanked like a dumb little baby?â You whined, eyes glazed. âSay it.â
âIâI liked itââ
âSay youâre a dumb little girl who needs my cock to think straight.â
You hiccuped a moan, eyebrows furrowing as you didnât even think twice before replying to him. âIâm a dumb little girlâI need your cock, Patrickâpleaseââ
âGod, youâre fucking perfect,â he growled. âGonna make you come again. Gonna fuck you through it until youâre crying.â
And then his hand was between your legs again, rubbing circles over your clit while he pounded into you just rough enough to rattle the boxes beneath you. His other hand snaked behind your neck, pulling you into another kissâsloppy and messy and full of whimpering breath.
The pressure built againâslower this time, but hotter, deeper. Every thrust was angled just right, every filthy word spilling from his mouth sinking into your skin like tattoos.
âYouâre gonna come, baby. I can feel it. This sweet little cuntâs choking meâgonna soak me again, arenât you?â
âYesâyesâIâm gonnaââ
âYou gonna drool all over me while I fuck the thoughts out of your head?â You were drooling. You felt it on your chin, warm and sticky and completely unbothered as your body started to spiral.
âThatâs it. Come for me. Let go. Show me how dumb you get for my cock.â
And you did.
It hit like a waveâsharp, all-consuming. Your walls clamped down around him, your mouth opened in a silent scream, and tears spilled from your eyes as your thighs trembled violently. Patrick groaned, hips stuttering, and you felt the sudden jerk of his climax too as he came inside the condom, fingers bruising your hips.
He stayed there for a moment, both of you panting and fucked-out and soaked with sweat and slick and drool. Then Patrick leaned in, brushed the hair from your damp forehead, and kissed your cheek.
âFuck,â he whispered. âYou okay, sunshine?â
You nodded, blinking at him with glassy eyes. âYeah⌠I think so.â
He pulled out slowly, wincing at the sensitivity, and tied off the condom before tossing it into the trash can by the wall. Then he grabbed a random Sleeping With Sirens hoodie from a shelf and tucked it around you, gently wiping the spit and sweat from your face with the sleeve.
âYou did so good, baby,â he murmured, praising you. âFirst time and you took it like a fucking dream.â
Your thighs were still twitching. You leaned into his chest, letting his arms fold around you, his breath warm against your hair.
âStill wanna go on that date next week?â you mumbled sleepily, too comfortable to move.
He laughedâsoft and real. âOh, sweetheart. After this? Iâm never letting you out of my sight again.â He kissed your forehead and you felt the cold metal of his lip ring piercing on your sweaty skin. âWant me to get you home now?â
And you only nodded at him.