em

here is a masterlist of most of what i've written about challengers! keep in mind that all works are fem reader insert as of now. :) i have also only included longer blurbs for now.

*MOST IF NOT ALL ARE NSFW; MINORS DNI

emoji anons: 🐞 🌷 🫒 🎀 ⭐ 💐 🐀 🫐 🦅 🐼

Obsessed reader needing Patrick’s dick so bad she is going to insane lengths. like he fucked her once a few weeks ago because he was tipsy and his already loose inhibitions were gone and he figured why not. but now you’re so desperate for him it makes you sick. and patrick ignores your texts because you’re so needy and it’s scaring him but it’s getting harder because you’re really fucking hot and the way you whined for him and told him your pussy was his made him cum embarrassingly quick.

so maybe one more time won’t hurt and he can just let you down easy and that will be that!! Patrick dryly tells you to come over and you’re there in less than 10 minutes with a skimpy skirt on and your hair all pretty. as if you were waiting for him to cave.

patrick doesn’t want any of the small talk or build up—he’s quick to cup your cheek and kiss you. it’s messy and harsh; tongue almost sharp in your mouth. your hand pulls at his collar and you beg to see him. his perfect body. patrick almost feels flustered. Speechless in a way that feels new to him. he pulls his shirt off and your eyes visibly widen, hand falling to his waistband to fumble with his belt.

“I want your cock.”

patrick whines as you yank his zipper down. you’re insatiable for him and he hates that he’s reacting the way he is. falling right into your trap. The perfect set up.

“Jesus Christ.” patrick helps you unbuckle his belt and soon he’s naked in front of you and you’re on your knees in front of him, skirt riding up your thighs.

“you can use me, you know.” you promise, hand wrapping around his erection firmly. “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Patrick yanks your hair and makes you look at him. “maybe you can stop being insane. I’m already here you don’t need to impress me.” it’s difficult for him to stay composed, though, when you’re looking up at his cock like you’re in love with it—because really, you are. sucking and licking around his tip, pushing him to the back of your throat until you’re sputtering and gasping for air.

you may be on your knees but you’re in complete control of him. you have him right where you want him. weak, eyes fluttering shut as his hips twitch and he moans softly, just slightly fucking into your throat.

“shit.” he almost buckles over “c’mere.” Yanks you up by your wrist and lays you down on his bed, burying his cock inside you just as quickly as your fingers pull at his necklace.

you arch into every thrust, cunt tightening at each of his gasps heaving into your mouth.

“you’re so fucking wet.” Forehead pressed against yours and his hand squeezing your jaw. “Didn’t even touch you first.”

If i was obsessed reader pulling that shit id be locking my devices in a safe so he couldnt do it back. I dont need anyone talking to my parents and them getting back in contact. One rule for one and one rule for another. It would be crossing the line if patrick did that to "me" lmao

if he even has one lololol

they made some sort of reservation or date plans and shes just sitting at the table alone. after an hour or two she's tearing up and blowing up patrick's phone untill the manager tells her she needs to leave because someone else reserved their table for a later time..

shes worried and keeps texting, so he reads them, turns off his phone, and she just flips out

shes walking all around town looking for him in spots he frequents and its dark by the time she gets to the tennis court across town

low and behold patrick is tossing the ball around with his buddies and theres like yelling in the distance from the parking lot but surely that cant be directed at him.. right?? when she finally walks over there n his friends r like holy shit its her?? did she fucking walk here?? on foot?? do we need to call someone?? and shes crying and screaming at him and making a scene infront of his friends

completely inconsolable when he walks her out of the court his friends r thinking its just his batshit girlfriend being weird again but that's exactly how he wants her

they go home and fuck like rabbits

p.s can i b 🦄 anon?

Patrick making these plans with you with no intention of showing up. it’s mean and cruel. it’s exceptionally fucked up. but patrick is testing her. raising the stakes, doing more and more to see what you’ll let slide versus what will make you rage. the reservation is at a nice steakhouse; patrick says he’ll meet you there because he’s coming from across town and he won’t have time to pick you up. part of you wishes he would just make it a different day, but you want to be more agreeable, so you bite your tongue and nod. it’s not often patrick agrees to be seen out with you in public at all. so of course you want to enjoy a nice meal together. A real, bona fide date.

the reservation is at seven sharp and you, always timely, show up at 6:58. you’re not surprised that you’ve beaten Patrick here, but you begin to grow more and more concerned as seven inches to 7:15 and then, even more alarming, to 7:45. the wait staff seems anxious to ask you about it, so you throw your napkin on the table yourself and take deep breaths as you trek to your car. you feel stupid and naive. vulnerable in your little black dress and stiletto heels. your mascara threatens to weep down your cheeks and you’re sure your lipstick is stained on your teeth from how you’re gnawing on your lips just to stay composed.

you call patrick close to 100 times; it’s systematic. every time the phone goes to voicemail you press the call button again and again and again as you circle town. he’s not at his house, he’s not at his favorite bar. his car isn’t at his friends’ houses. your last shot is the tennis court; he hangs out there late at night when it’s warm out. and, as much as it stings to admit, you think he likes it because it’s far away from you. but you make the drive and there he is, golden yellow under the fluorescent lights lining the courts.

his smile drops as he hears your car door slam. you’ve taken your heels off and you’re screaming at him.

“you’re a piece of shit, Patrick!” you scream through the chain link fence separating you from he and his friends.

“what’s wrong?” he tries to pretend like he forgot about the reservation, but he can’t seem to hide his smirk.

“don’t fucking play stupid. I hate you. you’re a fucking pig.”

Patrick takes a swig of his beer and looks over to his friends, who are amused by this but slightly unnerved as well. they’ve heard all about you—the screaming matches, you locking him in your bedroom. the following him around and looking up his credit report with his social.

“Is this about the reservation? listen, something came up.” Patrick feigns concern for you, popping the tab of another beer.

“something came up? getting drunk with your friends is what came up. fuck you. I don’t think you want to mess with me.”

“you dont scare me.”

“I can be a lot scarier.” you chuck your heel over the fence at him as you raise your voice. “Do you think what I’ve done is all I’m capable of? Plus your friends here seem pretty fucking scared of me.”

“just calm down, okay? it’s a dinner reservation. It’s not the end of the world.” Patrick hands you your shoe from a gap in the fence and you spit in his face.

“you humiliated me. you did this on fucking purpose—I don’t understand why you think I’m stupid. you think I don’t know what goes through your mind?” you’re screaming now, veins in your neck bulging and angry.

“you don’t know as much about me as you think.”

and you can tell Patrick is embarrassed by your behavior. his friends all looking at each other, wordlessly emitting this look of distaste about you that you’re all too used to.

“I know that right now you’re acting like you can’t believe this and that you hate me and I’m so weird and a crazy bitch. and you’ll laugh at me behind my back but then, later tonight, you’ll come to my house and bring me flowers and eat me out and fuck me in missionary and tell me it will never happen again. all why you say you don’t understand why I’m like this. but you know exactly why—you use it to your advantage, patrick. I think you’re more fucked up than I am.”

Patrick’s jaw ticks and he takes a deep breath.

“Just go home.”

tears prick your eyes but you turn away.

“you’re not denying it.”

and hours later, after you’ve somehow managed to fall asleep, patrick knocks on your door. he doesn’t bring you flowers, probably because he doesn’t want to admit just how right you were—but he brings you a pint of ice cream that melts away on the counter as he fucks you on the counter, your hair tight in his fist as he mumbles half-baked apologies. you both admitting you don’t understand why you’re like that, that you wish things could be different. you both know it’s a lie as patrick spits on your tongue and grabs onto your ass harder, trying to feel you deeper. as if trying to understand you.

AAAHHH *rips shirt off and rattles the bars on my cage*

older!patrick who has felt like he never really amounted to much. was supposed to be this big tennis star but his popularity fizzled out alongside his athleticism. and it seems like everything has gone wrong for him—failed relationships, failed career paths. nothing seems to stick for him. what hurts for him the most is that he used to be so sought after. brands lined up to work with him the same way women did to sleep with him but as he has grown older that too has felt few and far between.

so Patrick is at first flattered when you’re making eyes at him at the local dive bar. you’re too young for the crowd in there but you stare at the upward turn of his lips longingly as you suck down your vodka cranberry. That alone shows patrick you’re younger than him. much younger.

and when you get to talking, he’s adamant at keeping that boundary between you two. he’s far too many times been a homewrecker or gotten a girl’s feelings hurt and he’s too old for these half-baked flings. he wants something serious and comfortable. strange for him to say so when that’s never been his prerogative.

you’re let down when Patrick says you’re a pretty girl but he can’t go out with you. it just wouldn’t work out. but you feel differently; you feel like you can make anything work. and you will.

you follow him home that night; your small sedan trailing his SUV from a few cars behind so he’s not suspicious. learning where he lives opens up a lot of doors for you, and his address points you to his name, which shows you where he works and then suddenly you happen to find yourself calling into his work, desperate for a position at the front desk.

you go in for an interview and you don’t get the job but Patrick sees you from the corner of his eye. thinks what a strange coincidence; he’s sure you don’t work here. he’d notice that.

soon, you’re working out at the treadmill next to him. you’re sitting in the booth next to him at his favorite lunch spot and you find yourself strolling down his street as if you don’t live across town.

Patrick, on his daily run, pops his earbud out and walks up to you.

“I seem to see you everywhere now, huh?” his tone is light but suspicious. you can tell he wants to be meaner; you’re flattered that he’d rather be sweeter for you. maybe it means he thinks you’re pretty.

“I guess so. I haven’t noticed.” you’re lying and the way you stare down at your shoes shows patrick you’re full of it.

“hm. well I’d hope you aren’t following me. I’m pretty uninteresting.”

you try not to look at his bare chest heaving. thighs thick and hairy, red from the crisp morning air chafing the skin. his hair is peppered with grey and sweaty against his forehead. you’d lick the sweat off his neck if he let you.

pupils huge, you sigh. “I’m not following you. just taking a walk.”

“right.” he looks past you. “and that isn’t your little blue sedan? you drove here to this random part of town to take a walk? not even close to the nicest neighborhood here.”

you chew on your bottom lip. “‘M not following you.”

“is there something you want from me? you have a little crush on me or something? I’m probably your dad’s age, sweetie.”

“maybe so.” you admit.

“so what should we do about it? I thought I told you I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t or don’t want to?” a shrug. your fingers loop around his waistband and he chuckles.

“you’re crazy.” Grabs your wrist and makes it fall back at your side. you can’t be grabbing him like that in public when he’s half naked and you’re twenty plus years younger than him.

“some guys like crazy you know.”

“that’s why I can’t keep talking to you, sweetie.” He smooths your hair back out of your face and your heart feels like it could burst from your chest.

bi4bi with patrick sounds like genuine heaven #to me

you’re just not surprised at all and patrick is like ???

His body fully envelops yours, dick rubbing against your ass as he shows you how to point the cue. whispering in your ear what ball you should try to hit.

“don’t hit the white ball in.”

it makes you shiver a bit, how close he is. but he’s just being nice!!