Pennywise - Blog Posts

I swear every time someone uses the word it in a sentence I think about the IT book/movies this isn't funny anymore. I'll be watching a video and the second someone says it I'm like OMG GAY CLOWN MOVIE and then I just start thinking about IT totally forgetting I was watching something

I was trying to draw something last night.

You see it now.

But my ipad suddenly died ...

Maybe one day I will finish this work ... Maybe.

My friend recommended me to watch the movie BeetleJuice

I finished watching this movie.

I can only say ... I love him so much!

Why can he be so interesting and cute?

（Suddenly, I found that the pennywise I dreamed of was very like Beetlejuice……So I drew it, too）

I found an old work and now I decided to post it.

(I won't say that it's because I haven't drawn new things for a long time, so I look for old pictures to prove that I'm still here.)

About the management of expression.

Guess what I customized?

Look what I've done……

OK, I really don't know how to do this……

But…

At least it's still a little cute? I guess?

Hey, I tried a new style.

If I had time, I might color it?

But that's impossible

Hey, guys😊

I had a strange dream about a pennywise with a strange hair color.🤔

And I drew it.

Anyway, he's really cute🥰🥰🥰

It's me and pennywise😋

And…… I didn't have time to finish this work on Christmas day.😓

So ，you see……I hope I didn't send it too late🥺

This is my first post and I'm sorry if you don't like this😖

Was thinking about what Taylor Swift songs would match with Reddie, and the first one that came to me was “Right Where You Left Me” and now I’m crying.

I have so many Taylor Swift songs for reddie, and for the other Losers.

Pennywise, the dancing clown

I love this movie sooo much! 😍😍😍

Really wanted to finish this before friday Have a great Spooky month everyone and stay safe!

"In the grip of the nightmare, all fears will be remembered."

"No one who dies here ever really dies."

Richie, running into Pennywise’s lair: damn bitch you live like this

Where's the fic where Penny is our LGBT friendly hero steering Reddie closer and making sure all of the Losers are loved and protected??

More horror dogs

DO NOT REPOST

"Mr. Mechanic" p. hockstetter Oneshot

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Summary (Smut): What was supposed to be a fun field trip for you and Bower's gang turned into standing on the side of the road when the car breaks down. What could possibly happen between you and Patrick on this simple little trip?

Warnings: Vulgar language, oral (male receiving)

A/N: I'm at my breaking point too, Patrick, don't worry. I don't know shit about cars.

---------------->

“God, it is so fucking hot. Like, my hypothetical balls are sweating.” You said, sitting on the trunk of Belch’s car while fanning yourself with your hand. 

You and the Bower’s gang were heading towards Buxton, Maine, on a simple field trip. There was a popular street fair happening that you mentioned to the group, and you somehow convinced them all to go.

After much begging, and accidentally giving Patrick a hard-on because of it, you were all able to go. Splitting the hotel bill was easy, since it was your idea, you and Henry decided to split it together.

With his father being the sheriff, it was rather easy to get a discount from him. All you guys needed to do was drive up there and check in.

 So here you five were, on the side of the road because Belch’s car broke down halfway through the trip.

“Fucking piece of shit car.” You heard Henry murmur to your left and you sighed. You were leaning back, kicking your feet off the edge before an idea came to you.

“Hey, Vic?” You stretch out his name in a sing-song way and tilt your head sweetly with a smile, watching him and Patrick look up from their spots on the street curb and squint at you.

“What?” Unfortunately, he doesn’t respond with the same energy.

“You should totally go get the map from the car and find restaurants near here.” Your smile never falls and you playfully bat your eyelashes at him.

Vic looks unimpressed with your supposed flirting skills, and he stands up and walks himself to the car, jumping in and pulling out the map. 

“Thank you, Vic.” You beamed and he let out a sound of acknowledgement. 

To your left, Henry was playing with his switchblade on the trunk with you, a very bored expression on his face. On the curb, Patrick was watching cars speed by and messing with his lighter between his fingers.

You watch his hands as they skillfully flick open the lid, spark a flame, spin it around his slender fingers, close it, and repeat.

It was entrancing. The way the flame would move with his fingers, the way it somehow never got caught on his rings.

You liked it when he played with his lighter because there was just something so hypnotizing about it. 

His fingers had a couple burn scars on them and some normal scars on his pale hands, a couple of calluses. What you liked most though, was how long they were. 

How he had such good control over them, how they seemed to know when to move and how to move. How they would drag against your jaw, down your neck, wrap around your throat. How they would grab at all the right places, how they would pull up your skirts with such ease, how they would pull down your underwear so roughly. How they would tease you, carefully work their way into you, and curl themselves at just the right spot-

“There’s an ice cream shop just up the road.” You jump out of your thoughts and notice how Patrick’s fingers stopped, his blue eyes staring straight into yours with raised brows. Clearing your throat, you look away and turn around to look at Vic.

“Where?”

–

Vic, Patrick, and you all went up to the shop, letting Henry and Belch handle the car. The ice cream place was cold, and it felt amazing to all three of you. After ordering, you guys settled down at a booth to enjoy the air conditioning a little longer. 

“How long d’you think it’s gonna take?” Patrick asked from your right, his left arm strewn across the back of the booth behind your head. 

“A long ass time,” Vic snorted across from you, crossing his arms. His head was leaned back and his eyes were closed. “Belch may love his car, but he doesn’t know shit about it.”

Patrick snickered and looked out the window, watching people pass by the place. You hummed in agreement and watched people walk into the store and order.

It was silent, and the three of you were enjoying it for a bit. That was, until, some old lady got her ice cream and said something to her husband while leaving.

“Poor boy, having to third-wheel a date must be so tough.” She shook her head and her husband nodded.

Vic’s head shot up from its resting position and he stared at them while they left before looking at you two. You covered your mouth to try to hold in your laugh, letting a few giggles escape. Patrick wasn’t, though, and he laid his head on the edge of the table and was shaking and hollering. 

“Yeah, no. We’re fucking leaving.”

–

You three walked back, Vic pouting and walking in front of you the whole time, and were all now sitting somewhere around the car eating your ice cream. Belch was in the front seat eating rocky road, and Henry was on the trunk again eating vanilla. Vic was laying across the back seats and eating strawberry, and you and Patrick were both on the curb, him eating mint chocolate chip and you eating chocolate chip cookie dough. 

The both of you watched as a van sped past you, and you barely got to see the logo on its side.

“MARGO’S JUNK CARS”

Your eyebrows furrowed as a memory of Patrick telling you something crossed your mind. You gasped and swiftly turned your head to look at him, your left hand grabbing his bicep. He was already looking at you, a confused look on his face.

“Patrick Hockstetter!” You hissed quietly at him, “You know how to fix junk cars!”

He licked his lips before the corners curled up. “Mhm hm.”

“So fix the fucking car!” Disbelievement crossed your eyes and you scoffed.

Months ago, you and him were getting high in your basement when you had wanted to play ‘Two Truths and a Lie.’ It was his turn, and he gave you your choices. 

–

“There’s something in the forest nobody knows about but me. I lost my virginity at 12, and when I have nothing to do in my day, I work on cars.”

“Hmm. This is hard.”

“Yup.”

“Woah, wait. You, mister, lost your virginity at 11.”

“I did, yeah.”

“You work on cars?”

“Shut up and give me the joint, would’ya?”

“...”

“That’s kind of hot…”

“Is it?”

"Mhm. So, what's in the forest?"

–

“It’s his car, not mine.” Patrick replied, finishing the last of his dessert. 

Sighing, you pick your spoon around at your own sweet treat. “If you fix his car, and if we get a private room at the hotel, I’ll give you a blowjob.”

Patrick snaps his head over to make eye contact with you, and you stick your tongue out, put your spoon on it, and suck off the ice cream while giving him the best doe eyes you possibly can.

He stares and licks his lips again, deciding if he wants to think with his head or his dick. 

His dick always wins, though.

Patrick set his ice cream cup down and took off his black flannel shirt. It was your turn to stare, more specifically at his arms. He had a white wife-beater underneath, and his arms flexed while he handed the flannel to you.

Patrick stood up and grabbed at the hair tie you gave him a while ago on his wrist and he put his hair up. You marveled at the veins that ran up his forearms and crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice you clenching your thighs.

He did though, in the corner of his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. Embarrassed, you looked away with a not-so-subtle blush on your face. 

Patrick started walking towards the hood of the car, and he slapped his hand on the driver's side door, startling Belch.

“Maybe if you’d pop the fucking trunk, you’d be able to see what’s wrong with it.”

–

After about 15 minutes of Henry complaining about how hot it is, Vic and you talking about what you hope to find at the street fair, and Patrick and Belch looking at the car, Patrick came to the conclusion that an oil change was needed, and that some random part needed to be changed.

You weren’t listening all that much to him though, focusing on Vic’s voice instead. You knew if you looked at Patrick, you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes away from him. 

Him and Belch went to go find some convenience store nearby, and you, Vic, and Henry found some cards in the backseat and decided to play some blackjack. 

When they came back with the motor oil, a bucket, and a new part for the hood, you all watched as Patrick got under the car to remove the current oil. Belch got to work on the front with a wrench, and the other two guys went to chat with him about what needed to be fixed and whatnot.

You sat on the curb again, leaned back on your hands, legs crossed in front of you, biting your lip while Patrick laid under the car and waited for the bucket to fill. 

You watched his face as his eyes followed the oil, his eyebrows scrunched together, hands resting on his chest, one leg propped up and the other straight. He blinked, and then his eyes were trained on yours, only this time, you didn’t look away.

The two of you stared at each other, admiring each other shamelessly. Your eyes roamed over his arms, his tank top that was soaked through with sweat. Down his lean torso, following where his shirt was slightly lifted up to show off his dark happy trail, right before it stopped at his jeans.

In your right hand, your fingers fisted around the flannel he tossed at you earlier, and you rubbed your thighs together to relieve at least a small ounce of friction. Patrick simpered, his canines showing against his lips, and continued to focus on the oil change. 

When he was done, he stood up and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. Grease and dirt littered all over his face, which unfortunately only added to the problem between your legs. 

“Why the hell isn’t this tightening?” Belch bellowed, catching both of your attention. 

“Lemme take a look.” Patrick winked at you before going to check it out, and you rolled your eyes playfully, standing up to follow him.

“Well, maybe if you’d twist it in the right direction, it’d fucking tighten.” He sneered, putting his arm on the edge of the hood while tightening the new mechanic piece.

Belch clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, and all of you watched Patrick work. Well, they were watching the new piece get put in, you were watching the way his biceps flexed and the way his veins popped behind the skin of his hands.

“Try the engine.” Patrick stepped back and popped the hood down, wiping his forehead once again with the back of the hand holding the wrench.

Belch did what he said, and they all cheered when the engine started. The five of you all got back into the car, Henry in the passenger seat, Vic to the left of Patrick, and Patrick to your left. 

Belch was talking to Henry about how long it’d take to ride back up the same road, what would happen if you went different streets, and you were about 70% positive that you all were supposed to be listening to him.

You couldn’t though, your mind only paying attention to the warmth of Patrick’s thigh against yours, and the way his hand was placed on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles on the inside. 

Leaning into your ear, “This better be the best goddamn head I’ve ever had,” he purred and leaned back. You chewed on your bottom lip and lightly nodded, to which he responded with a tight squeeze on your soft flesh.

“Yes, Mr. Mechanic.”

–

Patrick slammed you against the hotel door, lips attacking yours instantly. You gasped and your hands immediately found his shoulders, your fingernails digging into them. 

His hands guided themselves over your body, up and down your waist, groping your breasts, and then finally resting on your ass. 

His lips were chapped and rough, an opposite to your soft and plush ones. Your lipgloss transferred to him though, slightly softening his lips just a bit.

He bit at your lip and shoved his tongue in your mouth, letting it roam around your mouth. You reciprocated and sucked on it, earning a low groan from the back of his throat. 

Your hands flew to the bun in his hair and you took it out, tossing the hair tie away from the two of you. You grabbed at it and pulled, harder than you probably intended. 

Patrick pulled away and looked at you, a predatory gaze in his eyes. Your mouth was slightly open with saliva on your bottom lip and your cheeks were burning up, your heart racing. 

You were a mess, and he loved it. 

He pecked your lips and started walking towards the bed, leaving you breathless against the door. You watched him take off his shirt, revealing a plethora of tattoos he gained over the years of highschool. He sat down on the side of the hotel bed and spread his legs, an obvious bulge in his jeans. 

You stood at the door and waited for him to tell you what to do. His eyes never left yours when he undid his belt with one hand and threw it behind him.

“Come ‘ere.” Patrick leaned back and you quickly walked over to him, kneeling in front of him without him even needing to ask. 

The grin on his face was large, and it grew when you reached for his groin and pulled him out of his pants and boxers. He sighed when he felt your soft smooth hands touch the base, a complete contrast to when his calloused ones do. 

The tip was red and leaking, and you brought your face closer to it, kissing just below it. Patrick’s hand rested on the top of your head, and he watched with amused eyes as you focused so hard on making him feel good. You did promise, afterall.

Your warm tongue slipped out and ran up the underside to collect what was building on his head, and then back down to trace over the vein underneath. His eyes closed tightly and his head tossed back, shivering with anticipation. 

He felt your warm lips wrap around the head and suck before pulling away to kiss down back to the base. His hips bucked upwards to show his impatience, and you ran your tongue back upwards along the vein, and sucked on the tip again. 

You didn’t pull away this time, though, knowing that he’d only push you down further. So you opted to suck on it and to languidly stroke the rest of his dick.

Patrick’s eyes stared into yours, taking note of the way your eyes would get glossier when he would push you further down his cock until he hit the back of your throat. Your hands came to tightly grip his thighs and you gagged, tears finally falling.

“Atta girl.” He hissed when your throat squeezed around his length, trying to get rid of the intruder that was making you choke. “Doing such a good job, dollface.”

You whined against him, the vibrations causing him the lurch forward. He cursed, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and roughly pulling you up and down his cock.

“If I’d known you be so good at this, I would’ve, shit, I would’ve fucked up Belch’s car months ago.” He panted, frantically matching the thrusts of his hips with his grip on you. 

You gagged again, and dug your fingernails so hard into his pants that you might have ripped them open. That seemed to be Patrick’s breaking point, though, and he faltered his movements before pulling you until your lips were wrapped around the head again. You sucked as hard as you could, and with a loud moan, he came. 

You swallowed as it coated your tongue and went down your sore throat, and continued to suckle it until every drop was gone and he went soft.  You finally pulled away and you wiped your mouth with your hand, the room silent and only filled with the sound of you two catching your breath.

“You, you fucked up the car?” You croaked out, your voice raspy and grated. Your hands rested on your own thighs, still kneeling in front of him. Your eyes caught his while he was putting himself away, and he snickered at how ruined you were.

“How the hell do you think I knew exactly what parts to get?” He huffed out, shrugging his shoulders and laying back on the bed. “I thought I’d get something out of going on this trip, so why not use your mouth for something good for once?”

You stared at the bed in front of you and leaned against his knee, closing your eyes. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

“You love it.”

"Patrick Hockstetter NSFW Alphabet" p. hockstetter Oneshot

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Kind of self explanatory, I had fun writing this one like the other! Here's the SWF one too, "Patrick Hockstetter SFW Alphabet"

Off to it!

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A= After Care (What they’re like after sex)

Patrick will not comfort you in any way, shape, or form. The best you’ll probably get is a smack to the thigh and half a glass of water if you beg nicely enough. He might clean any blood cum off of you, but it depends on his mood. If he’s somewhat happy, he’ll clean you up, but if he isn’t? He’s exiting your room through the window and leaving you on your own to sort your shit out.

B= Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

I feel like Patrick is more of a boob guy than an ass guy. It doesn’t matter how big they are, though he’d probably prefer bigger ones, he’s still gonna mark them up and bruise them. He always wants to see them, and if you’re wearing a white shirt, he’s spilling some kind of drink on you to make it see through. His favorite body part of himself is definitely his dick, there’s no questioning it.

C= Cum (Anything to do with cum)

He’s a very messy guy. He’ll unload on your chest, your face, your thighs. Anywhere he can he will. He’ll put on a condom and cum inside you sometimes, but he doesn’t want to risk you getting pregnant. He’d find a way to kill it anyway, but he doesn’t want to use all of that effort if he can just prevent it.

D= Dirty Secret (Self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Patrick doesn’t really have any secrets, but when he’s bored and you’re taking a shower or not in your room, he is grabbing your pillow and zipping down his jeans. He won’t tell you, but you’ll figure it out eventually when you keep finding odd stains on the underside of your pillow,

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He definitely started having sex with girls when he was like, in the early years of middle school. You’re not his first time, and it’s very obvious with how much he knows his way around your body.

F= Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Anywhere he can see your face. He wants to see how fucked out you are, and he wants to see your face contort in pleasure (Mostly pain.) If it’s missionary, he’s holding your face to make you look at him. If it’s doggy style, he’s doing it in front of a mirror and roughly pulling your hair to make you watch yourself cry. The only thing that matters is if he can watch you.

G= Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?)

Patrick will crack a crude joke every now and then, but he’ll mostly stay serious. He’ll make fun of you and make sure you know how much of a joke you look to him, but that’s about it. He’s focused on himself during sex, so sometimes he doesn’t say anything.

H= Hair (How well groomed are they? Do the carpets match the drapes?)

He has a bush. It’s said in the books how unhygienic he is, so don’t expect him to be bare and smooth. He’ll trim it back when it starts to itch and become too much, but he won’t do it for you. It’s curly and black, and he’s got the happiest of happy trails too.

I= Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

He doesn’t give a fuck about being romantic. It’s not his thing, and never will be. He’s choking you, leaving bite marks and any kind of wound he can to make sure that you know who you belong to, and that no one can fuck you like he can. He doesn’t care how you feel during it, he’s only there to have a good time. If you don’t enjoy it, then you can suck it up and get used to it, because he’ll be coming back the same time tomorrow.

J= Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

So often that he does it when you’re at his house too. He doesn’t have shame, he doesn’t care. He jerks off to pictures of you, random magazines, your underwear. Hell, he made you jerk him off.

K= Kink (One or more of their kinks)

So, so, many. Choking, dacryphilia, somnophilia, hair pulling, dirty talk, degradation, anything and everything. He was exposed to so much stuff when he was younger, and he’s got it all. Kinkiest guy of them all.

L= Location (Favorite places to have sex)

He likes your room the most, but he’ll have sex anywhere. Your room smells like you and feels like you, and if it’s early in the ‘relationship’ and you’re not used to him and disgusted by him, then he’ll definitely take pride in taking your safe place away from you and corrupting it. But he’d have sex with you anywhere, it doesn’t matter much to him.

M= Motivation (What turns them on?)

Seeing you in general usually does it for him. His mind starts racing when you walk by him, so it doesn’t take much. But seeing you cry? Instant boner.

N= No (Something they wouldn’t do, or turns them off)

Anything scat, piss, or vomit related. He never found the appeal, and it’s a pain to clean up anyway. But he’s up for anything else, as long as it’s not being done to him.

O= Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill)

Receiving. He loves getting head. He’s grabbing your hair, ramming into your throat like you’re nothing but a fleshlight. He doesn’t care if you can’t breathe or not, or if he’s hurting you. He doesn’t give often, but when he does, it’s like the angels are singing to you. He’s amazing at it, like God tier, but he’ll never let you cum from it. Never. He’ll get you right at that peak with his tongue, where you’re grinding against him, and then he’ll pull away. 

P= Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

As foreplay, he’ll go slow if he has the time. He’ll make you beg for more, and he’ll make it slow as possible when he wants to be a pain, but when he’s actually inside you? He’s not stopping. He’s practically bruising your cervix and hips with how fast and deep he’s going, and how hard he’s holding on to you.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often)

He’s not the biggest fan of them, but he’ll do them when he’s in a rush. Whether you two are in the bathroom at a party, on a field trip, in an empty classroom, he’ll pull his and your pants down and make it quick. He may not like them that much, but you two will have a quickie at least 8 times a week.

R= Risk (Are they okay with experimenting? Do they take risks?)

He’s up for just about anything. Public, toys, BDSM, Patrick will do anything. Unless it’s pegging or something that’s being done to him, then he’s shutting it all down.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Like a rabbit. He’ll go all night, any night. Back to back rounds, hours without end. He’ll stop when you pass out, or when he physically cannot hold himself up anymore. 

T= Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He has plenty, a whole box full in his closet. He bought them for past partners, but be well assured that he’s using all of them on you. Rope, vibrators, dildos, you name it he has it. He won’t let you use any on him though. He also won’t let you have any. If he finds one while snooping around, he’s stealing it and searching for any others. You have him, you don’t need one for yourself. If you really want a toy, you can ask him nicely and he’ll use one on you.

U= Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Entirely and completely unfair. He’ll tease you in public, during class, under your dinner table while having dinner with your family, during a hang out with your friends, when you’re alone. He’s the biggest tease of them all, and he won’t let you do anything about it until he wants to.

V= Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s not the most vocal of them all, but he’s not silent either. Grunts, groans, shit like that. He’ll leave the screaming, moaning, and crying to you.

W= Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

He will force you to have sex with him when you don’t want to. Your pleasure doesn’t matter that much to him, it’s just a perk you get to have sometimes. He doesn’t care, and he’ll have sex whenever he wants with you.

X= X-Ray (What’s going on underneath their clothes?)

About 5 or 6 inches. Not the girthiest, but he’s not skinny either. It curves upwards just a bit, and he’s circumcised. Not exactly trimmed, but not exactly bushy either. He definitely has a happy trail, though.

Y= Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

So high that he’s having sex with you in the morning before school, during lunch, in your free hour, after school, right before your parents kick him out of the house, and then he’s sneaking back into your room at 2 in the morning for more. And then it’s all a repeat the next day. It’s a surprise he can still walk and that he doesn’t have erectile dysfunction yet.

Z= Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’ll fall to your side and he’s immediately snoring. Sometimes he’ll be awake to watch you sleep, but other than that he’s out cold. He’s also holding onto you to make sure that you can’t get up and leave, so when he wakes up, he’s moving your legs and going for another round.

Hey! Mind doing a NSFW and SFW alphabet for Patrick (it) ???💗

"Patrick Hockstter SFW Alphabet" p. hockstetter Oneshot

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Kind of self explanatory, I had fun writing this one! Here's the NSWF one too, "Patrick Hockstetter NSFW Alphabet"

Off to it!

---------------->

A= Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Not at all. Patrick will not act like your boyfriend, or like you two are in a romantic relationship. That man is there for sex and sex only, he is not going to hug you or have any hand holding. The most he’ll do is stop the rest of the Bower’s Gang or anyone else from bullying you, but only because they’re scared of him and because he gets jealous when other people make you cry instead of him.

B= Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start)

As a ‘best friend’, Patrick wouldn’t be the best. He’d influence you to do things your parents don’t want you to, and he’s definitely the peer pressure kid that school assemblies warn you about. It’d probably start with him forcing you to give him test answers, and then he'd just keep asking for homework answers, and then the teachers would see how ‘well’ you two work together, and they’d pair you up as project partners because no one else can handle Patrick. So, it starts off as unfortunate and unwilling get togethers, and then it’d progress from there.

C= Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

No. Absolutely not. Patrick would not be serious or actually like cuddles. If you were really upset at him over something (forcing you to have sex), he’d throw his arms around you and wouldn’t let you go until you ‘forgive’ him. But he would not cuddle you.

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I don’t think Patrick would like to settle down. He’d get bored of you, there’s no doubting it. When you go to college, he’d probably forget about you until one of you comes back years later, and then your spark flares up again and you suddenly feel like a teenager again. He’s awful at cooking and cleaning, and if he did settle down, he’d expect you to do it all. 

E= Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Since you aren’t technically dating, he’d just go find another town girl to sleep with. But if it’s something even a little serious, he’d tell you he’s bored and just get up and leave. 

F= Fiance (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Again, Patrick would not be one to settle down and marry you. He’d probably think marriage is stupid, to be honest. Why would he be stuck with just one person for the rest of his life when he could have anyone he wanted?

G= Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Patrick is not a gentle lover. He’s a rough guy, and he doesn’t really have emotions. You know, solipsism will do that to you. He wouldn’t really care that much about you, you’re just a toy to get his emotions out on. 

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

No, he doesn’t. Patrick would hug you from behind while you’re cooking or something, but only to show you that he’s hard or that he wants something from you. 

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I don’t think he’d really say “I love you”, mostly because, again, solipsism. But also because, again, he doesn’t really care that much about you.

J= Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they get jealous?)

Very jealous. Always. He’d probably hurt whoever you showed even the slightest bit of affection to, and make you make it up to him. Patrick gets angry and jealous quickly, so expect a long night of crying, screaming, and sex. 

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Rough and painful. Patrick would kiss you anywhere he could, and anywhere he can leave a mark. He bites too, so beware. He’s fine with just getting kissed on the lips, but if you kiss the tip of his dick like his lips, he’s ecstatic.

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

Terrible. We have evidence with Avery. Do not have children with Patrick Hockstetter.

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Every now and then he’ll be there in your bed with you. It’s the only time he looks even remotely peaceful, and the only time you can look at him and enjoy his looks. But, it doesn’t last long, because soon his eyes are opening and his teeth are on your neck.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Long and mixed with pleasure and pain. Sometimes you guys sneak out and go smoke somewhere, or go to a party, but when you’re at your house and he’s sleeping over? You can’t move when you wake up.

O= Open (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

He doesn’t really open up, like at all. If you’re lucky, he’ll let one or two things slip while he’s high or drunk. But other than that, he keeps to himself. He doesn’t think you’re worthy for him to tell you stuff, since he’s the only one in the world. Plus, shouldn’t you know already? The only reason you exist is to please him, anyway, right?

P= Patience (How easily are they angered?)

Very easily. Like, drop a beer can while giving it to him and he’s taking you to a bathroom or somewhere private to yell and ‘punish’ you. Patrick hates when you mess things up, and you’re always walking on eggshells around him.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)

He literally wouldn’t remember a thing about you. Maybe some stuff about what you wear and what your schedule is, and maybe who your friends are. But other than that, he doesn’t care at all. 

R= Remember (What is their favorite moment of your relationship?)

When he first saw you cry. He loved it, and not like when the other girls would cry. Whether you’re an ugly crier or a pretty one, Patrick loves watching your mascara run down your face and see you get all red and whiny. 

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

He’s protective to the point where he has a hand on your waist at all times if you’re both in public together, but only because he doesn’t want any other guys to think you’re on the market. You’re his property and his only, only he can hurt you and make you feel like shit. He’d get the gang to gang up on someone if they tried to do something to you, but then he’d turn around and blame you for being so stupid for letting it happen, and for thinking that someone could hurt you more than he could. Then he’s proving you wrong and making sure you remember who can really hurt you.

T= Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

No effort at all. Don’t expect anything from him. Ever.

U= Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Literally everything. His poor hygiene, the fact that he forces you to have sex when you don’t want it, the fridge, his smoking and drinking habits, the genuine abuse and manipulation you go through. The list doesn’t end.

V= Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks? What about yours?)

Not very. Again, poor hygiene. He doesn’t think anyone’s real, so obviously he doesn’t think beauty standards apply to him. Even though, somehow, he still manages to look good. For you, it definitely depends on how you think about him. He could be a person who also doesn’t believe in beauty standards, and would date anyone or anything, but he could also be the worst and most sexist prick about how you look. It all depends on how you view him.

W= Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Definitely not. He wouldn’t let you leave him, so don’t even think about trying. And since you can’t leave, why would he feel incomplete? But if he left you, then he doesn’t give two fucks about you anymore. Fat chance he’s already moving on to the next town slut because he’s bored.

X= Xtra )A random headcanon for them)

He has bought you jewelry with his initials engraved on the insides that you don’t notice, and he gets hard when he sees you wearing them because to him it’s like showing you’re his property. You think he’s just doing something nice, a shocker, but really, he’s doing it because a necklace is the closest thing to a collar with his name on it that he can get you to wear in public.

Y= Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

I don’t really know about this one. I never really thought of this, because I don’t think there’s much he wouldn’t like or that he would really care about.

Z= Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?

He snores, has wet dreams of you, moves around all the time, and sleep talks. One time, you both had sex, and halfway through you realized he was still asleep. 

"The Wrong Kind of Jealousy" p. hockstetter Oneshot

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Summary: A break up leaves Y/N heartbroken and feeling awful, and Patrick doesn't like it. He's the only one who should make you feel like shit, and he's determined to prove he can be worse than your boyfriend.

Warnings: Vulgar language, break up, kind of non-con, choking, passing out, dacryphilia, classroom setting, almost fingering, use of "slut."

A/N: My bad guys, I got botox up my bladder so I haven't gotten to my Wips 😭 Here's my apology, please don't burn my house down.

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“Aiden, please! I didn’t know he’d ask me out, I thought he was just being friendly.” You sobbed, breath raspy and scattered. 

You had met a guy named Donnie in your science class while you were taking a test. He had asked for answers since he was new to the school and didn’t know much, and being the people pleaser you were, you gave them to him. 

He asked for your number after and said that he’d give you the answers to the upcoming math test as a thank you, and you didn’t think anything of it. 

You two started talking, and became friends over the few weeks you knew each other. Of course, nobody ever has kind intentions anymore, and he called you, asking you out on a date while you were making food in your kitchen. Since your boyfriend Aiden went to a different school, the two had never met. And he picked up the phone before you could.

“Does that really fucking matter?” He raised his voice at you and you flinched. He’d never gotten so upset over things like this, so it hurt to hear him yell.

You had a plethora of guy friends; many that he was also friends with. So why was he so angry now?

“You never thought to tell him about me? About us?” Aiden threw his hands on his head and laughed. He was pissed.

“I didn’t think about it, it seemed innocent!” You couldn’t recall the last time you had to defend yourself like this to someone over anything because you were an honest person.

He shook his head and ran his hands down his face, inhaling deeply. “I should’ve known you were gonna cheat on me. Nobody’s that perfect.” 

“Aiden-”

“You’re a slut, Y/N. I should’ve fucking known. We’re done.” He growled, grabbing his jacket off of the counter and aiming towards the door.

“Aiden, please wait.” Tears fell down your face as you tried to reason with him. You loved Aiden, and you didn’t want to see him go. 

“I don’t wanna fucking see you again.” Aiden slammed the door behind him, leaving you to cry in your kitchen.

–

Two days passed, and you were miserable. You cut it off with Donnie, and you hadn’t seen or heard from Aiden since that night. It was lunch and you were at school, eating your meal in an empty classroom, sitting on one of the desks. You’d usually eat with Aiden and talk about anything, but now it was quiet and lonely. 

Holding your sandwich up to your mouth, you were about to take a bite when the door opened.

It was Patrick Hockstetter. The bane of your very existence.

He was such an asshole, and you hated him. He’d grope you, call you names, sometimes even hurt you if you two were alone. You had brought it up to Aiden a couple of times, but he’d always dismiss it, saying he did it to everybody and that you weren’t special.

You never had sex with Aiden, and he never saw you naked, so he also never saw any of the marks Patrick would leave on you. Burn scars from lighters and cigarettes, bruises, cuts, the initials he carved under your belly button. The hickeys.

You never thought it counted as cheating since you never reciprocated anything Patrick would do, and you never told Aiden about it in fear that he’d break up with you for it. But you knew deep, deep down, that you were cheating.

Because a sick, sick, part of you liked it.

Aiden was never rough with you when making out. He treated you like fine China, which you were thankful for. But he never went further, not like Patrick would.

Aiden would kiss you softly, never pressing too hard on your lips. Patrick would make you choke on his tongue and bite your lips, making you bleed every time. 

You hated him, and everything he did. But sometimes you’d look at your scars and remember how awful it felt, and you’d get hot and red in the face.

“Figured your cunt would be in here.” Grinning, he slipped through the crack in the door and closed it, locking it behind him. You shivered, knowing that you weren’t going to leave the classroom without some kind of wound. 

“What do you want?” You croaked out, voice hoarse from crying. You put the sandwich back in your lunch bag and crossed your arms over your chest, regretting the tight white shirt and pastel pink skirt you wore today. 

Patrick snickered at your poor attempt to cover yourself and he turned the lights off, making the only light in the room be from the cracks in the blinds that covered the windows. 

“What do you think I want?” It was only then that you noticed the blood from his nose, and the blood on his hands. Usually you’d never think anything of it, but you were somewhat worried.

Patrick never liked Aiden. He hated how much attention Aiden took from you, and he made sure you knew. He hated how upset you’d get when you remembered a date you two would have to go on, especially right after he’d make you suck him off.

You’d be a complete mess, mascara running down your face, lip gloss smudged, hair sticking up everywhere, drool on your chin, and your clothes would be ruined.

He liked you better when you looked that way and begged him to stop. He made sure to take a picture once, and when he couldn’t see you, he’d jerk off to it.

Patrick loved when you looked ruined, but you always wanted to look put together for Aiden.

“Patrick, what’s on your hands?” You asked shakily, eyes trained to his blood soaked fingers. 

Patrick tutted and started a slow stride to the desk you were on. “You know, Aiden was never a good choice for ya’, toots.”

You crossed your left leg over your right and your skirt rode up your thighs, and Patrick licked his lips.

“I mean, he always controlled what you did. You couldn’t go anywhere without him. And you surely wouldn’t be wearing that skirt if you two were still together.” He stopped in front of you, and put his right hand on your left knee, and his other on your calf.

He uncrossed your legs and stepped between them, removing his hands and placing them on the desk.

Patrick’s eyes never strayed from yours, and you were shaking. 

“What did you do?” You caught your breath and questioned him, fear evident all over your face.

“You never cried for me as much as you did a couple nights ago for him.” Patrick’s face held no emotion, and you had no idea what was happening inside his mind.

It filled you with dread.

“Patrick, please.” His right hand moved from the desk and he placed it up your left thigh, moving it under your skirt. His left hand went around your throat, and his fingers placed themselves skillfully against the sides of your neck.

He squeezed, hard, and slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear, pulling them back and snapping the elastic back onto your skin.

You yelped, and it took away most of your oxygen. Patrick’s fingers teased down your leg and to the back of your knee, leaving a trail of blood as it went.

You didn’t ask him, but you knew it was Aiden’s. You didn’t want to know what happened to him.

You were hyperventilating now, taking in any air that you could. Patrick would lessen his grip every now and then so you wouldn’t pass out, but then he’d tighten it again. The process repeated until you were wailing, and your hands were clawing at his.

His right hand was resting on your thigh again, and would etch up closer to your groin whenever he’d let go a bit. You were full on sobbing, and you looked perfect to him.

Mascara down your face, red marks on your neck that would surely leave a perfect blue and purple handprint later. You were trembling underneath his touch, and he loved it. 

Aiden could never make you cry like he could, and Patrick carried that pride with him. 

You tried to beg him to stop, but your words were broken and you could barely keep yourself conscious. Black spots dotted your vision, and you kept thrashing against him. 

He had never gone so far when choking you, and he’d usually leave you with some air. But he didn’t now, no matter what you did.

Patrick’s fingers climbed up into your underwear, and he smirked when he saw the fear in your wet, drowning eyes. Two fingers touched your entrance, and he dragged them up and down, pinching at your clit.

You’d never been more terrified as to what Patrick was going to do next, but you never found out. He squeezed your throat much harder, completely blocking your windpipe from getting any form of oxygen. 

The black spots took control of your vision, and you went limp in his hands. Your legs stopped kicking, your hands fell to your sides. Your head lolled back, and your face relaxed. 

Patrick hummed and let go of your neck, letting you fall back on the desk. He made sure your pulse was still beating, and his fingers went into your entrance with no more resistance. 

Aiden could never make you feel anything like he could.

"Inseparable" Part Eleven

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Short Little Summary: They try to make pancakes, she gets fed up with him, a little something something occurs during shower time, and Patrick is a very possessive guy. (He gets a little freaky at the end)

Warnings: Vulgar language, groping, suggestive, no actual smut.

Words: 1,997

A/N: Chat, I'm so embarrassed right now, how could I forget this part. Anyway, I think cock-blocking Patrick is my favorite thing to do, it's so much fun. And sorry if you're favorite flower is carnations, I just thought of some random one, and sorry if you like cheese. Have fun reading, feedback is always welcome!!

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“What the fuck am I doing wrong?” Patrick yelled while holding onto the baking mix box, reading over the directions. Y/N sat on the counter, chewing on the leftover chocolate chips they didn’t use.

Patrick somehow ended up burning the pancakes, twice, so she gave up on breakfast. 

“Maybe stop staring at my tits and actually watch them cook.” She said and swung her legs back and forth, shoving a handful of chocolate chips in her mouth.

He glared at her and threw out the burnt pancakes, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the pan on the stove.

“I’m done with that shit.” Patrick murmured and opened the fridge, a slice of cheese appearing in his hand.

Y/N looked at him distastefully, her hatred of cheese showing all over her face. She hated the texture, the way it smelled, the way it tasted. She hated cheese more than she hated anything in the world, and she would forever stand by the fact that it was a food made by the devil himself.

Patrick slapped the cheese onto the counter next to Y/N, to which she flinched from the sudden loud noise.

“I want pancakes.” She whined, setting down the jar of chocolate chips and leaning back on her hands. Patrick took his eyes away from the cheddar on the counter to look at her, and he sneered.

“So make them your fucking self, lazy bitch.” He counteracted her complaint and picked the cheese slice back up, opening it and pulling off a small piece. His mischievous eyes didn’t stray from her tired ones as he chewed on the cheese like a damn cow.

“Fine, you fucking asshole.” Y/N hopped off the counter and wiped off any chocolate chips that may have been on her clothes before getting the stove and pan ready for pancakes, once again.

She had fixed up all the ingredients, after berating Patrick for somehow forgetting to add eggs into the pancake mix, and stood by the stove, watching her food cook.

Patrick was sitting down in one of the chairs that he stole from the dining room and was chewing on a plastic straw when Y/N had placed a plate of pancakes in front of him.

“Bon appétit.” She smiled exhaustingly, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. She needed something to wake herself up for, but she didn’t know what.

Well, she didn’t know until she bit into one of her pancakes. “I think I’m gonna take a shower and do my makeup when we’re done eating.” 

“I don’t give a flying fuck.” Patrick was scuffing down the sweet breakfast before pausing and looking at her. “Wait, no. I wanna join.”

“Absolutely not.”

–

Y/N ran her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes and lathering the shampoo on her head. Showers were relaxing to her, especially feeling clean. They were her favorite thing in the world.

“Damn, did you know that John Lennon’s dead?”

They were her favorite when Patrick wasn’t with her.

“Yes, Patrick. He’s been dead since, like, forever.” Y/N rolled her eyes and put her head under the water, rinsing her hair out. “What the hell are you reading, anyway?”

“I don’t fucking know, some weird ass magazine.” Patrick threw the paper book away from him on the floor and leaned back on the sink he was sitting on, crossing his arms.”You almost done?”

“No.” Y/N gritted her teeth and started putting conditioner in her hair, using a comb to make sure it was even all around her head. He was so impatient that it drove her insane.

She knew he only sat in the bathroom while she showered because he got to see her breasts when she reached out to grab a towel, and it was one of the things about their friendship that pissed her off.

He always wanted to shower with her, whether he’s the one who needed to shower first or her, he always wanted to be there with her.

Y/N grabbed a washcloth and put her body wash on it while she waited for her conditioner to work in her hair, and she started lathering herself with it.

Patrick smelled the berry scented soap and knew she was getting close to done because that was the second to last step in her routine. 

Vanessa rinsed herself off after, along with her hair, and turned off the water. She stared at the shower curtain that blocked Patrick from viewing her naked body, and thought for a second. 

He’d seen her naked before, even though they were all accidental. Or at least that’s what she told herself they were. She had bought a new body butter from the convenience store and wanted to try it out, and usually she’d ask Patrick for a towel and kick him out, but it always took forever to get him to leave.

She also needed her skin to still be wet when she put the lotion on, so she needed to put it on before drying off.

“‘You good in there?”

“Yup.” Y/N responded and opened the curtain, stepping out of the shower.

To say she felt like a piece of meat being dangled in front of a starving lion was an understatement. She knew he was going to stare at her breasts, like always, but his eyes went straight down her body, and he didn’t look up.

“Are you good?” She watched him lick his lips and smile before he finally looked into her eyes.

“Never better, babe.” He leaned his head against the mirror and sighed, his eyes going straight back to her breasts.

Y/N hummed and rang the leftover water out of her hair, grabbing the tub of body butter. She opened it and he watched her like a hawk watching its prey.

She put some on her fingers and ran it up and down her leg, massaging it before moving onto the other. She then moisturized her arms and looked back at Patrick, their eyes meeting each other's.

“‘Should let me do the rest of you.” He suggested with a serious face. Y/N smiled and tilted her head.

“Be my guest.”

Patrick leapt off the counter and put the same amount of lotion that she did on his own fingers, and she flicked her wet hair off her shoulders. She hated the way her hair felt when it was wet, but she’d put up with it for a bit.

He looked her dead in the eyes and rubbed the lotion all over the palms of his cold hands right before attaching them to her breasts.

She gasped at the cold, a soft ‘fuck’ leaving her lips when his cold fingers pinched at her nipples. “I really hope you know I meant my back and all that shit. Not this.”

“I know.” He grinned, continuing to grope her. His hands roamed the rest of her body as well, resting on her ass. 

She deadpanned and he smirked.

“Seriously?”

“You know me well enough to know that this was going to happen no matter what.” 

Y/N was about to say something when he started to move closer to her, using his grip on her ass as leverage to move her towards him as well, until the doorbell rang. His smile fell from his face and fear quickly flashed over hers, and she pushed him against the counter.

“Ow.” He rubbed at the part of his hips where it connected with the edge of the sink and watched her quickly rush to put clothes on. The doorbell rang again, and again, over and over.

“I’m fucking coming!” She yelled back, pulling her pants on and running to the door, Patrick following behind her.

“You definitely will later.” Patrick snickered and she whipped her head back to him to give him a pointed look. He raised his hands up in mock surrender and Y/N opened the door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Patrick interrogated the guy at the door before Y/N could even open her mouth. 

“I’m just, uh. I’m here for Y/N.” The guy gestured to Y/N, and that was when the two friends noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Patrick looked unimpressed and Y/N didn’t know what to do, especially because she didn’t remember him at all. Luckily, she didn’t have to ask him who he was because Patrick was already on that case.

“And you fucking are?” He leaned his body against the side of the door frame and put an arm around Y/N's shoulder. 

The guy grimaced at Patrick and told him his name, “Duke Adams, and you are?”

“Patrick Hockstetter.” The two men held a stare down for a while before Y/N remembered who the guy was.

“Oh, you’re the guy I danced with during freshman year,” She pursed her lips, “You ditched me for Sandra Kellies.”

Duke cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes in embarrassment, and mostly to avoid Patrick’s burning gaze.

Patrick didn’t have a good feeling about the boy, although he never had a good feeling about anyone who would potentially date Y/N. 

“That uh, isn’t exactly a proud moment of my life.” Duke nervously chuckled and looked at Y/N with the sweetest eyes she’d ever seen. She remembered him as the worst guy of her life when she started dating, but for some reason, his eyes made it seem like he’d changed. They held a softer, kinder gaze than when they first met. “These are for you.”

He handed her the bouquet and stepped back a bit, glancing at Patrick. He never let his hardened gaze fall from Duke, and he reminded Duke of a guard dog.

Or more like one with early stages of rabies because he was sure if he didn’t leave soon, Patrick would start growling at him.

“Anyway, my house phone is in the tag, if you ever wanna talk again. I’ve missed you.” Duke smiled and stepped off Y/N's porch, getting into his car and driving away. 

She watched him go and waved him goodbye, her own smile clear on her face. She looked up at Patrick and noticed a look of hatred in his eyes, one she’d seen whenever she’d introduce a guy to him.

He was a possessive and jealous man, she knew that. Even though they weren’t dating or anything, she sure as hell was going to have her fun with him.

“Maybe I should call him.” She taunted and moved his arm off of her and walked back into the house, Patrick following her trail like a dog.

“The fuck are you talking about? He broke your heart, he sure as hell is gonna do it again.” He tried to reason, running up the stairs with her. She placed the bouquet of flowers on one of the small tables in the hallway, to which he noticed what flowers they were.

“They aren’t even your favorite, he got you fucking carnations.” He scoffed and stopped following her when she reached the bathroom and turned around, blocking his way of entering with her.

“Maybe I secretly like them.” She winked, and he huffed out a laugh.

“Don’t try that shit with me.” He put his arm up to hold onto the top of the door frame.

“Hm, oh well. It’s my call anyway, not yours.” She shrugged and smiled, closing the door on his face.

“What the fuck?” He yelled, wanting to continue what they were doing before they were interrupted. 

“Go jerk off or something, I don’t want you to distract me!” She yelled back and he heard the blow dryer turn on.

He groaned and pushed off the wall, making his way to Y/N's bedroom. He sat down on the soft sheets of the bed and looked around, trying to find something to do. His eyes laid on the familiar purple piece of fabric in her laundry bin, and he grinned.

Maybe he’d take up on her suggestion.

Me because I just realized I forgot to post part 11 of Inseparable 😨

Chat, I'm so ashamed, oh my goodness gracious

Hey!!!!

And how is the story going? 🤗

Omg you can’t believe me how much I’m looking forward to it!

I wish you a nice day/night

Your reader 🫶🫶

Heya babes! I'm so sorry that it's been so long, my summer's been busier than I expected 😭. So far I've got four parts already, and I'm planning on releasing them when I'm finished with part five. My grandma's been in the hospital, so I haven't really had much time for updates (The writer's curse has gotten to me.)

I'll tag you when I post them and will make sure you get your story!

Have a nice day/night!!

hey yall, my friend js started doing requests too! send in an ask for her and she'll do it 😋

Heyyy!

hey guys! So I’m thinking of writing on tumblr (I use ao3) so here’s what I’ll write for.

Creepypasta IT 2018

SDV

JATP

and many more. I kinda just pulled those out of my ass lol. Just request and I’ll tell you if I can do it :)

"Sweltering" p. hockstetter Oneshot

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Summary (Smut): Y/N and Patrick are placed as partners on their senior camp trip for Derry high-school. Regrets are thought after Patrick convinced her to place their tent further away from the others, and when their fans die in the middle of the night in the awful Derry heat.

Warnings: Vulgar language, dubious consent, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, camping, in a tent. Patrick and Reader are 18 and seniors!

A/N: Sorry guys, motivation kind of went out the window for my WIP's and I can't think when I try to write them, so here's this apology while I wait for my writer's block to end!

Smut under the cut!!

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It was dark out, and hot. The Derry highschool had a camp field trip that only the seniors could go on as a ‘going away’ event for their graduation. Y/N and Patrick were partnered together, much to each other’s distaste.

There was an odd amount of people on the trip, and when Y/N was told that the other student was going to join her group of three and that she’d have to be with Patrick, she groaned.

–

“Do I have to? What have I done to deserve this?” She begged her councilor to change the groups.

“Ms. L/N, you’re the perfect student, and he isn’t. We’re hoping that maybe while on this trip, you can influence him in some kind of way. Please, you can still hang out with your past group, you just need to stick with him as well.” Her councilor begged her back, hope shining in his eyes. 

All the teachers at the highschool knew that Patrick wasn’t the greatest student, so they always paired her and him together when they could. Projects and presentations, hell, they even made her his tutor. She hated how much time out of her life he took up, and he hated how much of his she took up.

“Fucking, fine. Whatever.” Y/N sighed dramatically and walked away to talk to her friends.

She heard a faint ‘language’ from her councilor before getting pulled aside and directed the other way.

“So, we’re buddies again. Huh, toots?” Patrick grinned and put his hand on her waist while walking her towards their assigned bus. 

“Guess so,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the nickname he gave her when they met, and pulled his hand that was slowly moving to her ass off of her. “Don’t fuck this trip up.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

–

Patrick did not, in fact, think about it.

He somehow convinced her to set up their tent further away from the others, and the fans that they were given on the bus had died. They were both sweating and kicked off their blankets, and now they laid on their sleeping bags. 

“I hate you.” Y/N panted, using the safety folder as a fan. She was wearing a dark green tank top and sweatpants on, and she was sweltering. 

“Mutual feelings.” Patrick responded, laying on his back with his arms behind his head. He took his shirt off and was wearing his black boxers, even though Y/N complained about him taking off his pants.

She knew she couldn’t say much, though, having taken off her bra earlier in the night because of how uncomfortable it was. She also knew that he was staring at her breasts half the time, but she didn’t bring it up. He’d do it if she had a sweater on, too.

Y/N stopped fanning herself for a moment and stared at the wall of the tent in front of her, and Patrick looked over at her.

“What?”

“Don’t get any ideas.” She set down the folder and stood up as he stared at her, watching her every movement.

She glanced at him and caught his eyes before looking away quickly and reaching her fingers into her waistband. Pulling off her pants, she stood there in her black lace panties, bare to Patrick’s eyes.

“Thought you were gonna get some?” Patrick snickered at her fancy underwear as she sat down and scoffed.

“Yeah, from Taylor.” She smiled sarcastically and fanned herself with the folder again, sighing in relief at the difference her lack of clothing made.

She’ll admit, she was hoping that she’d end up getting a tent with Taylor because she thought he was hot, but now she was stuck with Patrick. Who was kind of attractive.

But also really attractive.

Patrick hummed and watched her again before a large grin grew on his face. He sat up from his sleeping bag and crawled over to her when she closed her eyes, and he covered her mouth with his hand when she yelped in surprise. 

“Patrick, what the fuck!” She hissed quietly to not wake the other campers.

“Shut up and enjoy this.” He sneered and slid his hands up and down her body.

Y/N gasped and grabbed his shoulders when his hands cupped her breasts and played with her nipples. She’d had sex before, but they were all asses who never thought of foreplay, so naturally, she was sensitive.

He smiled at her reactions and continued to pinch them, leaning in to kiss her neck when she threw her head back and moaned. He kissed and nipped all over her neck, leaving bruises wherever his lips touched.

She bucked her hips up into his when he found her sweet spot, and she wrapped her fingers in his hair while he sucked at it.

“Patrick, stop. We shouldn’t be doing this.” Y/N panted heavily. She didn’t want him to stop at all, but she held onto a small sense of her dignity.

They shouldn’t be doing this with the other students just a couple yards away from them, but she also knew that Patrick didn’t care.

All he did was move further down her neck and kiss her collarbone before lifting her shirt over her breasts and attaching his lips to them.

She moaned, loudly, and reached a hand up to cover her mouth. Patrick laughed and sucked all over her smooth skin, his hands now moving down her hips, to the waistband of her underwear.

“Fuck, stop. We can’t do this.” Even though her brain said one thing, her body said another. She didn’t do anything to stop him, other than tell him to.

She knew he wouldn’t listen, though, so she didn’t know why she was even trying.

His hands ghosted over her underwear to the inside of her thighs, and he rubbed the soft flesh. He pinched her and she whined, him smiling once again. 

Patrick slowly moved his hand up to where she wanted him most, and he ran a finger up her groin as she thrusted her hips towards it.

“Patrick, please.” Y/N didn’t even know what she was begging for, at this point. Whether he stopped or didn’t, it didn’t matter to her anymore. She just wanted to keep feeling good.

His fingers moved her underwear to the side and he ran a finger through her folds once again, detaching himself from her nipple.

He stared her in the eyes and brought the finger to his lips, sucking off the mess she left on them. 

“Patrick, please!”

His fingers moved skillfully and he kissed her, his middle finger plunging into her entrance all the way to his knuckle. She moaned loudly once again, but this time his mouth caught it. He stretched her out, and when he thought she was ready, he put his index finger in with it.

Y/N moved her hips with his fingers, trying to match the speed he was going at. It didn’t help that he was purposely messing up his rhythm so that she couldn’t, and he grinned when she sobbed into his mouth.

“Please, Patrick,” She whimpered, “‘M so close!”

He placed his thumb on her clit and rubbed it in a circular motion, reattaching himself to her nipple. “Go ahead.”

She cried out and clenched around his fingers, her hips finally being able to match his speed and rhythm. He let her ride out her high before he took his fingers away and moved down, licking up what was left on his fingers and her cunt.

When he was done, he sucked at her clit harshly, and she cursed out and tugged his hair away from her.

He sat up and wiped away what was on his chin, sucked at her sternum until he left a hickey, and pulled her shirt down.

Patrick palmed at his boxers and then kissed her before rolling over next to her, reassuming his position with his arm behind his head. 

“When I wake up, I expect to see you with my dick down your throat.” He told her, closing his eyes and getting comfortable.

“Yeah. M’kay, I guess.”

"Prom Gone Wrong" p. hockstetter Oneshot

---------------->

“I’m not showing too much cleavage, am I?” I ask my friend Cassy, pulling up on the silky  red dress I was wearing to cover my breasts. It was prom day, the same day I was dreading since Ollie asked me to go with him.

Don’t get me wrong, going out in a beautiful dress was my dream since I was a little girl. It was just the fact that I didn’t want to go with Ollie. 

He wasn’t my type, and he was known for not actually dancing with girls at prom and taking them in a janitor’s closet to fuck them instead. He’s never piqued my interest, but since nobody else asked me to go, I accepted.

“Honey, you look gorgeous! Let those girls free, the world needs to see how hot you are.” Cassy said before throwing her head back and taking a shot, her favorite thing to do before a party. I nervously smiled at her and fixed my hair before leaving the bathroom.

“Yeah, I just don’t want that creepy English teacher to dress-code me.” I walked to my vanity and sat down on the stool, pulling out a tube of lipgloss from my purse and applying it to my lips.

Cassy shrugged and sat down on my bed, bending over to put her black heels on. “If he looks at you weirdly, I’ll beat his 62 year old ass.”

“Thanks, Cassy.” I roll my eyes and laugh, reaching forward on the vanity to open my jewelry box. When I did, a polaroid of me and an old friend fell out of it, and I picked it up and stared at it.

Me and him used to live in the same neighborhood before I had to move away, and we were the greatest of friends. Sure, he was a bit of an oddball, but it never deterred me from him. We grew apart, though, and went our separate ways throughout highschool. Now that we were both seniors and could attend the senior-only school dance, I had a small amount of hope that he’d ask me. I wasn’t sure why, but I just did. 

“All right. I think we’re ready.” Cassy stood up and smoothed out her dark green dress in my full length mirror, and shortly after putting the photo away I did as well. “Let’s go dance.”

–

The DJ was playing Again by Noah Cyrus when we arrived, and the lights in the cafeteria room were red. That seemed to be the theme as Cassy and I walked around trying to find our dates. It took a couple of minutes for her to find West, and she bid me goodbye while interlocking her arm with his.

It was well into the night and I couldn’t find Ollie, and I had accepted the fact that he probably stood me up for another girl. I was leaning against one of the tables that held fruit punch, and I downed the last drops of the drink in my cup before deciding to step away from the ear-damaging crowd.

Making my way out of the cafeteria, I sighed when I walked out of the doors and entered the empty hallway. The sound of all the others were muffled, and the only thing that you could hear were the soft tapping of my heels. 

Wandering aimlessly through the quiet highschool, I walked past one of the closets in a darker part of the building. A loud thump against the door and a couple of moans told me all I needed to know, and I scoffed at their lack of decency. 

“That’s it, take this big dick!” I stopped in my tracks when I recognized his voice. 

Ollie.

Now, I know I had tried to convince myself earlier in the night that he did in fact stand me up, but a part of myself also didn’t quite believe it. I had thought of multiple excuses he could’ve had, and even though this one had the biggest chance, it still hurt. 

Was I not good enough? Not pretty enough? I still would’ve turned him down if he asked for sex, but why didn’t he even try?

Spirals of thoughts turned and twisted in my head as I continued walking around the school, except this time I had a place I wanted to go. Me and my old friend used to hang around the place after hours when we were younger, and there was a girls bathroom that was supposed to get renovated decades ago. Of course, the school board never got around to it, so it was a good place to skip and hide away in. It was on the second floor of the school, directly above the cafeteria. 

A remix of 180 by Bastián and Glory Box by Portishead seeped into my ears as I opened the door, and it continued to echo around when it closed. It was a larger bathroom than the others, and I walked up to the mirror that took up half of the wall. There were scarce lights, so it was rather dim around the other areas of the room.

I looked at my face and touched up on any makeup that faded, and then took my hair out of the low bun it was in. I played around with my hair, and scratched at my head, softly moaning at the self-massage I was doing. 

I froze when I heard the door creak and close, and then I locked eyes with the intruder in the mirror.

“Patrick?” I muttered, spinning around to face him. He wore a black suit with a red undershirt and a black tie, and I made a small note that the same color matched my dress. His hair was slightly tousled, and a stranded curl rested on his forehead. 

We both took in the sight of each other before I cleared my throat.

“What are you doing here?” I tilted my head, staring into his green eyes. 

“‘Could ask you the same thing.” He stated simply and started a low stride towards me, his eyes roaming over my body once again. It made me feel bare, to be on such a display for him. I remembered how low chested my dress was and pulled it up nervously, and even in the dim lights I could see his smile.

Patrick had always towered over me in height, and he took advantage of it now while circling me. I folded my hands in front of me and played with fingers as he did, waiting for him to be done with his inspection. 

“Well, don’t you look pretty.” He stopped in front of me and grinned. It was obvious that I was nervous, even a blind person could see it. I hadn’t talked to him since middle school, and seeing him now intimidated me in a way. 

“‘Could say the same thing to you.” Shrugging, I turn around to look at myself in the mirror again.

Patrick huffed out a laugh and stepped behind me, placing his hands on my waist. Being so close to him made my breath hitch, but I couldn’t let him know. I pretended it didn’t affect me and pulled out my lip gloss, reapplying it to my lips. It was red and shimmery, which was one of the reasons I had chosen it out of the many others in my purse. The other reason was that I knew it was his favorite.

When we were in middle school, my mom had bought it for me for my birthday. Patrick and I were hanging out one day, and I had decided to put it on because I thought it was pretty. He of course noticed, and asked me a simple question that led him to be my first kiss.

“Can I try some on?” Patrick whispered in my ear, his thumb rubbing circles on my hip. I froze again, and put the applicator back in the tube. I locked eyes with him again in the mirror, and he kissed at the spot on my neck below my right ear. His soft but chapped lips caused goosebumps to run all over my body, and a warm feeling to form in my stomach. 

“Well?” His rough voice sent shivers down my spine, and I turned around and backed away from him. He stepped forward towards me, and the cycle repeated until my back hit the edge of one of the sinks. I swallowed down the lump in my throat that caused me to be silent, but before I could speak, he did instead.

“Jump.” It barely registered in my brain what he wanted me to do, but it clicked when his hands grabbed my waist and lifted me onto the sink. My legs wrapped around his hips, and my arms went around his neck. 

I didn’t think before I did, but before I knew it my lips were on his. It was sloppy, hungry, but it fit with how we felt. I grabbed at the hair on the base of his neck and he grabbed at the red fabric of my dress.

We didn’t pull away from each other, but probably for different reasons. I had a thing for Patrick since I’ve known him, and I didn’t want to pull away and have him disappear again.

I didn’t know why he was so frantic like me, though. Maybe he felt the same, or maybe it’s all a heat of the moment kind of thing. Whatever it was, I didn’t want it to end. 

Patrick’s hand moved slyly up and down my body, and mine stayed in his hair. I always liked how long it was, it matched his face shape well. And since he hated going to the barber, it worked out for the both of us. 

I whimpered when his fingers pinched my thighs, and finally pulled away to breathe while he smiled at my reaction. We both panted and looked at each other, eyes filled to the brim with lust. Patrick licked his swollen lips, tasting the flavor of the gloss.

“Cherry?” He asked with a toothy grin.

I nodded breathlessly, my mouth dryer than a desert. “Your favorite.” 

He hummed and pulled me in for another kiss, even more eager than the last. My hands left his hair and roamed down to undo his tie, and I cursed into the kiss when I couldn’t get the knot undone. Patrick snickered and reached his hands up to do it himself, my own hands cupping his face. 

When he took the tie off, he pulled my hands away and placed it in them. Confused as to why he was pulling away, I opened my mouth to ask, but stopped immediately.

He kneeled in front of me, mischief flooding his green eyes. Patrick grabbed my legs and spread them, and he kissed at my ankle. He continued his charade of leaving marks all over and up my left leg before switching to the right one.

His hands roamed behind me to pull me closer to the edge of the porcelain sink, and then they moved back down to the insides of my thighs.

They reached up for my underwear, and he didn’t even need to tell me to lift my hips. It was like an automatic response to his touch, one that I couldn’t help. He noticed as well, and swiftly pulled down the damp red fabric and threw it aside. 

“You’ve got quite the theme goin’, huh toots?” He laughed and placed a kiss on each of my knees. I ticked my tongue and lightly tapped his side with my red heel, urging him to hurry up.

“I like to match.” I lean back onto the sink and run my fingers through my hair, biting my lip as he shuffles closer to me. 

His eyes were trained on mine, and he lifted up my dress, disappearing under the silk. I gasped when he blew air on my groin, and threw my head back when I felt his tongue on me.

Patrick ate like a starved man eating his last meal, not even coming up to take a breath. His hands held my thighs apart so that they didn’t clamp around his head, and all that could be heard throughout the bathroom were my moans and the soft sound of music.

Panting and gasping when he sucked on just the right spot, my fingers went under my dress and tightened themselves around his hair. He groaned into my cunt, and that was what threw me over the edge.

“Patrick, I’m gonna-” He didn’t let me finish my sentence and his thumb on my clit, rubbing it in just the right way to make me scream his name.

He let me ride my high, slowing down a bit, but not stopping. I whined and tried to tug his head away, but he didn’t let up. Finally, after a couple of complaints, he pulled back, leaving a few last licks and standing up. 

His face was stained and shiny, and he wiped it away on his sleeve. Embarrassed, I looked away while he did. He took off his blazer, and grabbed my chin. He kissed me once again, and the warm feeling came back shortly. He grasped my hands in his and guided them towards his shirt, and I caught on. I unbuttoned it and he tossed it away from us, ignoring my grumbles of how dirty the floor probably is.

Patrick unbuckled his belt and let it drop, and then unbuttoned his pants. He pulled them down just enough to where he could let his cock out, and once again pulled me closer to him. Wrapping my legs around him and putting my face into his shoulder, he started to align himself with my entrance before I yelped,

“Condom! Use a condom.” I pulled away from his shoulder and looked at him, my concerned expression opposite of his unamused one. He rolled his eyes and started rocking himself against me, sliding in and out of my folds. 

I moaned loudly and grabbed his shoulder, covering my mouth with my other hand. Patrick smirked and went faster, a knowing look on his face.

“Still want a condom?” He asked, and I shook my head with doubt. 

Patrick was smug as he lined himself up again, and his lips caught my whine as he thrusted inside slowly. He kept going until he bottomed out all the way, and he cursed the whole time.

“Fuck. Ease up on me, dollface. You’re real fucking tight.” He groaned, and pulled out almost all the way. I whined and scratched at his back, and he rammed himself back in. The process repeated, and the bathroom was filled with moans and swears once again.

I could feel him twitch inside me, indicating that he was close. I had already come twice around him, and was crying at the overstimulation.

“Patrick, it’s too much.” I cried against his neck. 

“I know, fucking hell, I know. Just a little longer, you can do it. Just give me one more, baby.” He reached his hand down and thumbed at my clit, making me fall off the edge once again. The constriction around him made him moan loudly and pull out of me, leaving a mess all over my thighs. 

We sat there for a couple minutes, breathing in each other's air. I leaned my head back against the sink’s mirror and stared at him as he stepped away to pick up his tie, wiping away the white liquid on me with it. He tucked himself back into his pants, put his belt on, and the rest of his clothes. He threw the tie into the small, empty trashcan to the left of us and kissed me. 

Patrick didn’t pull away until we both couldn’t breathe, and then he stepped away from me, and walked to the door.

“Eleven PM tomorrow, here.” He opened the door and walked out.

Patrick left me alone with my thoughts, and I stayed sitting on the sink for a while longer. Thinking over my night and what he and I were now, I realized that we were still at the school dance, and that I had to find Cassy and drive her home.

"Inseparable" Part Ten

Patrick groaned when Y/N shot up from her spot on the couch gasping and tightly gripping his forearm. He smacked his lips as he looked around the room trying to gather what was going on.

“The fuck’s your problem?” He whispered, squinting his eyes through the dark. Y/N whipped her head around to look at him and hugged onto him tightly, burying her face in his neck.

Patrick was too tired to care, though, and stayed in his seated position with his arms on his sides, blinking the sleep away from his eyes.

He looked back at her after scanning the room and sat motionless for a moment, right before plopping his face into her hair and going back to sleep as Y/N sobbed and cried.

A little while later, she wiped her nose on his bare shoulder and grimaced at the line of snot she left on it. She sat up when she heard birds chirping, and the faintest bit of sun poking through her window, contrasting with the rest of the pitch black room. Sighing, she shifted to move away from Patrick right before she heard a loud thump and groaning.

“The fuck is your problem?” Patrick hissed from his new position on what Y/N assumed was the floor.

She snorted a bit and pulled her shirt back down, why it was raised past her breasts and exposing her bra made her concerned, but she didn’t want to know what Patrick was up to. She smacked her lips as Patrick had done in an earlier time and rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. 

“Ah, fuck!” Patrick yelled after yet another thump, and plopped himself onto the spot on the couch next to her holding his foot. The sun had risen more so she could see the room, and she bursted into full laughter when she realized he stubbed his toe on the coffee table in front of them.

“It’s not that fucking funny.” He grumbled, his hand massaging his toes.

“Oh, yes it is.” Y/N wiped away the tears that formed from her outburst and let out shaky breaths before calming down.

“Oh, yes it is.” Patrick mocked in a snarky tone and put his feet on the coffee table, knocking over the TV remote.

Y/N deadpanned at him and they stared at each other for a couple seconds before he realized that she wanted him to pick it up. He only grinned and moved his legs to sit criss-cross.

“Jackass.” Y/N mumbled, standing up to bend over and pick it up. Patrick wolf-whistled, grabbing his crotch and putting his arm on the back of the couch.

“Damn, is it hot in here, or is it just me?” He licked his lips, smiling when she tossed the remote at him. Y/N sat back down and made a disgusted sound.

“So what now.” Y/N said, crossing her hands in her lap and staring at the floor. 

“We could talk about whatever the fuck you were dreaming about.” Patrick turned his head to look at her, and he stared at her while she inspected her carpet.

Y/N was silent, eyes unmoving. It unnerved Patrick deeply to see her so quiet, and he was incredibly curious as to why she was. 

“Let’s make pancakes.”