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- about me!! mdni • aug leo • american • multi fandom (mostly challengers, marvel) • infp • introvert • fem • cabin #6 • hufflepuff • mike faist enthusiast • logan howletts gf!! • challengers advocate
-my inbox is open for chats, pls feel free to dm me about literally ANYTHING <33
Eater!Art has to eat you out every time you’re on your period.
TW: Blood, Smut
At first he was petrified when you brought the topic up, “what if I can’t stop? I take it to far-“ his voice cracks goosebumps rising along his skin at the idea of hurting you, eating you.
“That’s what makes it fun” you poke his dimple the look on his face shuts you up. “I’m being serious I couldn’t live with myself” he gulps restlessly pacing back and forth as he rambles nervously. Accidentally biting his nail hissing when skin breaks
“Stop” you block his path “Art I know you won’t.. we can feed right before it starts so you’re not hungry.”
He’s still adamantly against it shaking his head in anguish, the visual running through his brain of your flesh tattered to pieces covering the ground, slimy loose skin between his fingers felt like a punch to his gut
“listen to me” you tightly clasped his hands meet his dilated pupils unsuccessfully mimicking your deep breaths
“it’ll be ok, don’t go there” he closes his eyes stray tears slip down his cheeks as you kiss his finger tip sucking the trickle left over
After the torturous first time of talking Art through the motions holding his hands and squeezing them when he shift back from between your legs, voice trembling repeatedly asking if you’re ok it became a mandatory part of your sex life
cramps? No problem he’ll stop at the rundown 711 and happily lap at your pussy in the restroom, hands coated in red slick thumb prints on the sink and your thighs too, slipping the waitress a few dollars for being inconveniently loud and the mess left over on the counter (what he he couldn't clean properly). Pulling over on the highway sneaking into the backseat of his truck rocking the vehicle back and forth until you finish in the middle of the day is fine with him too.
It’s 10 times better if you’re in bed, he’s ramming his hips against the sheets, fingernails digging into your plush thighs savoring the metallic sweet taste. His breathing erratic and eyes shut tight as he’s consumed by your taste like a man starved. Your body arching off the duvet from his nose nudging your swollen clit, blood smeared all over his cheeks and chin as he pulls back gasping for air dazed eyes fluttering open matching a loopy smile on his face pressing a tender kiss on the side of your knee before diving back in pulling your legs close he can barely breathe. Grunting against your pussy and humping the bed hard until you both finish together moaning mixing into one. He forces another climax again as he pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy curling them up while his mouth is latched to your clit sucking hard until you gush all over his face.
He’s dizzy pelvis stuttering a small wet patch staining his boxers, mouth open panting, head lolling back and forth until it rests on your inner thigh the only thing that’s grounding him is your fingers threading through his sweaty hair
Orgasms and desert at the same time Art can’t complain
@rottenk1sses for you 💋
your post about fireman patrick got me thinking…like i can imagine if you two are in a pre-established relationship he would get home and strip straight away after a shift and not give a fuck about how he smells and would just want you straight away. or if you two are strangers, maybe he would ask for a ‘gift’ for saving your cat or something😋
feeling embarrassed because your smoke alarm won’t stop going off and you can’t quite reach it so you call the fire department. you don’t expect a firefighter in full uniform to trudge up your stairs and you don’t expect him to have such a gorgeous face. it makes your face flush and you feel so bad for having him come out for your stupid problem.
“i’m sorry, this is so stupid.”
he sets his ladder against the wall and shrugs his jacket off. he’s built, wearing a navy blue t shirt that’s tight in all the right places.
“‘s okay hon, i’m just glad your place isn’t on fire.” he throws you a little wink as he climbs up to turn the alarm off and you feel like a shy little school girl.
it’s hard to listen to him when he tells you how to fix it yourself, and that he may have a backup detector in the truck if you’ll give him a second.
you just agree with everything he’s saying, looking up at him with big doe eyes as his biceps bulge while he pops the old batteries out of the old detector.
the air feels muggy and thick with tension as he replaces it for you and you feel humiliated that you’re sad he has to go. but he finds a sharpie on your desk and pops the cap off with his teeth, jotting down his personal phone number on a receipt on your counter.
“if you have any more problems, call me. or even if you don’t.”
and a week later your smoke alarm does the same thing. it’s late at night and you call him, frazzled and upset.
he makes it better, with new batteries and his calloused fingers rubbing your clit as he fucks into prone bone, his other hand firm on your headboard.
“did you put the old batteries in so you’d have an excuse to call me?” he asks you as he pushes deeper into you, making you lose your breath.
you whimper and nod, unable to lie because your head is tilted to look at him and his pretty green eyes are so close.
“y—yes.”
he smirks. “could’ve just asked me to come fuck you and i woulda brought flowers or something.”
18+ MNDI
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who moans as soon as he enters you. (if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve came on the spot)
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who buries his head between you neck and kisses it desperately as he begins to rutt into you
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who licks the tears from your cheeks as they come streaming down
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who’s praises sound like prayers as he whimpers them out between kisses
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who comes so fast and so hard he starts crying even more than he was before (he just can’t believe how much he loves you!!)
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who can’t stop now matter how much you beg him to…
“can’t stop ‘m so sorry baby -ah- can’t stop”
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who collapses ontop of you after he came god knows how many times. poor baby is so overwhelmed, muttering how much he loves you and begging you not to leave him
a/n: inspiration struck while i was driving, so a short and sweet little thing i typed over the course of 30 minutes between stoplights for the queen, @tashism! i hope this is okay! also, title will be changing lol
warnings: alcohol mention, hastily written, not proofread!
The first time Patrick Zweig says the word "fiancée," he says it into your neck.
Softly. Like a question. Like he’s still learning the shape of it.
You're sitting on the floor of your apartment, surrounded by swatches of linen napkins and Tashi's ruthlessly detailed planning binder. Your knees are tucked to your chest, your face flushed from wine that’s long gone warm—abandoned, forgotten, like everything that isn’t him.
this was gorgeous
rose-colored glasses (or the lack thereof)
In retrospect, his mother buying the garden should have been a point of concern. At the time you and Patrick had chalked it up to some sort of pre-emptive mid-life crisis. Not a brash or wild purchase like you'd expect, but large and lavish enough that it felt logical to group into the category anyway. And frankly, both of you were too enamored with this new space in the Zweig's summer home to really question the randomness of it's appearance.
It would have been a waste of time to worry about it then too. The academy took Patrick for most of the year, but his summers were always yours. Split between time at your homes in the city and wandering the acres of the summer house. There was no time to question the garden, not in the excitement of spending time with Patrick. The garden became a new adventure, a point of excitement in it's own right.
You two would wake up and bring your breakfast out there. Eating by the bushes, and later requesting to have all your other meals outside too. You'd walk around and play childish games you had yet to out grow. Sometimes read a book or just talk. It felt like the garden was a never ending entity, always with something new bud to capture your interest.
You never touched the flowers, rather enjoying the thought of you peacefully coexisting alongside each other and partially afraid of what Mrs. Zweig would say if she saw. Not that Patrick cared about any possible reaction his mother would have or the natural peace of the garden. He took to plucking any bud within arm reach.
Snagging flowers as you walked by a bush, plucking off bundles at a time. Begging to be picked, he'd smirk, pushing the flowers into your hands. Haphazardly made bouquets, if you could even call it that. It'd fluster you, endearing in it's own way, as long as it wasn't the roses.
They were the prettiest of the bunch, both in look and smell. A unexpectedly warm scent with a hint of sweetness reminiscent of the heady earthiness of cloves or myrrh. It'd wash over you anytime you were close to the large bush, drawing your gaze to the pastel blooms.
You'd run your fingers over the edge of the flower, pressing down against the the thin silky petals, as Patrick grabbed at the stem to pull them off. HIs brows would furrow the minute his fingers pressed against a thorn, but it stopped nothing. Only tightening his grip to properly pull the flower from the bush.
When he'd hand you the bud, you'd see the little prickles pushed into his thumb. Still grinning carelessly, as he insisted you take the flowers, you'd instead try picking out the thorn. He'd tell you not to worry and you'd scoff until you'd coax the small barb from where it was nestled in his skin. Wrap a band-aid around it for good measure, and watch it come loose in the span of couple hours.
It happen over and over again, him plucking the flower and you removing the thorns. An inevitable part of your time in the garden. Leaving you with more roses than any one person could need and having seen too many thorns pricked with his blood.
It's what you remember most about that summer. More than the garden or the sun, it was defined by that rose bush. Looking back, you and Patrick had settled into the roles you'd always play for the other that year.
Not that you realized it then (another gift of hindsight).
[🪐] - challengers, female, and hehe a short thing about me is that i’m a barista (i love my job..) and that i am a night owl. i love movies (horror specifically.) and i like to change my hair colors literally every few weeks!
CONGRATULATIONS LAYNA😙😙😙😙😙
THANK YOUU💞💞
i actually didn’t specify what i meant by gender preference so i’m confusing myself on if you guys want man or female characters.. i went and fixed it though to be more specific!!
BUT. I think you’d be a perfect fit for patrick, you seem very chill and relaxed, something patrick would really enjoy. just someone who can adapt to change (hence your hair) and someone he can just stay up late with.
