bked0n-lorazepam

Latest Posts by bked0n-lorazepam

HELLO HELLO HELLO! I have a fucked up fic request! (heavy heavy angst) because I think my trauma would be a lot more bearable if Dr. Chase were there! (fanfiction about myself? how vain)

so basically, a 19 y/o girl lands herself in the hospital (hi y/n!), her spine is absolutely shattered! why, you may ask? tw domestic abuse! her bf pushed her down the stairs! we can call him Logan. oh! and she had to get 12 stitches on her head from where she fell! yippee!

house complains that this isn't their department, that she just needs a fuckton of work done on her spine (womp wonp bro! it was assignined to you!)

bf visit her every day, always crying, always feeling so guilty about what he's done. house and foreman come in the room, girl is "asleep" and bf I crying, apologizing. house tells him to gtfu, and then foremans all "dumb shit ur gonna wake her!!!!" house leaves! hates patients anyway! girl opens her eyes, says to forman, "don't worry about waking me, I wasn't even asleep.. I jut didn't want to comfort him :\" foreman makes a SNIDE AND RUDE remark. what a cunt, fauwck your foreman !

house yells at foreman in his office!! Dr. Chase I sent down to check on the patient

"I'm Dr. Chase, blah blah blah" "oh I'm okay dw about me!" "I was sent to check on you, one of my colleagues said some pretty harsh things to you.." "it's okay, he probably has a point.. Logan is trying to do the right thing after all...." "the right thing!? he pushed you down the stairs and obliterated your spine! the right thing to do is let you go!" AHAHAHAHA GIRL GOT BPDDDD, SHES NOT GONNA LEAVE AHAHAHAHAHA I HATE MY LIFE

filler shit 🫶

chase walking patient for/to physical therapy, has to take her outside, so she can walk again. needs a freaking cane (yeah ik house... I see u..) patient asks if it's okay for her to smoke. Chase barely registers the question, but goes a little nuts when patient pulls a blunt from her bag. okie dokie cute scene of us getting stoned together :333

back inside! chase and house hallway/office scene. "you smell like teen spirit, chase" "what?" "pot, marijuana, weed, devils lettuce, yknow," "I'm not- I'm not high," "ofc u are!" "House-" "what, it's not my concern," Funish scene so cute so demure

cute chase/patient beside chat !

okay you can stop this fic here ORRRR, GO ON AMD FINISH OUT GLORYFIFING MY TRAUMA!!

--

woah scandal risky chase hooking up with a disabled patient in da hospital?! she got POTS!? she passed out during the act!? HOUSE WILL BE MADDDDD lol

and ofc she goes back to Logan!

okay yeah sorry, you don't have to write this obviously, but it'd be cool if you did thanks, sorry

I like the way you think, magic man.

"fuckass picture" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: apparently eraserhead patrols the neighborhood near your hideout?? 😨

Warnings: Vulgar language, mention of smoking

A/N: somebody needs to fucking sedate me. one-sided eraserdust has my heart idc.

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giggling bc what did i find 😭😭

"on the run" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: You and Touya get chased by U.A kids 😨

Warnings: Vulgar language, mentioned "plug"

A/N: your pookies back and in business

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-WIP'S-

-Series-

"27" p. hockstetter

"Stabs and Stitches" g. foyet

"Radio Whispers" c. grimes

-Oneshots-

"Losses" c. peletier

"The Wrong Fruit" j. sully

"Desperate" g. house

"The Mattress" r. chase

"Can You Stay Silent?" n. smith

"i don't hate you" k. bakugo mha smau

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Summary: He might hate you, he might not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ All you know is that you are on cloud 9

Warnings: Vulgar language, weed

A/N: This was so late, sorry guys 😭

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I just want a man above the age of 52 to hug me and tell me that its not my fault :(

hes so odd

when shes the prettiest girl who deserves the world and hes him <3

"well damn" k. bakugo mha smau

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Summary: you try to contact your training partner! he lowkey hates you tho. good luck!

Warnings: vulgar language

A/N: i love music sm omg. PLEASE DONT MIND HOW HE BLOCKED YOU BEFORE YOU RESPONDED TO HIM ABOUT THE VEGGIES PLEASE IT WONT LET ME CHANGE IT.

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"together 💕" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: you, dabi, and my queen toga have plans you can't discuss or the haters will sabotage you 😈

Warnings: language, the usual smoking, you're finally in a relationship‼️

A/N: so so eepy

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"surprise?" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: You just wanted to go to the gas station 😔

Warnings: language?, smoking

A/N: so I actually hate the dishes much more than I ever realized. this ones also kind of short

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"chivalry isn't dead ig" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: You and dabi are like magnets that like to stay far away from each other, except for when atoms align just right

Warnings: smoking, death threats

A/N: hiii 🤗🤗

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"fine asf" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: You think a pro-hero is hot⁉️⁉️

Warnings: minimal vulgar language, spinner is a master of the art of stalking

A/N: here we go again

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"weed or us?" "weed!" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: someone stole from you 🤫

Warnings: idfk some vulgar language and weed?

A/N: we're doing this ig. dabi does not know the difference between "two" and "too." you both are also flirty with each other and it will escalate as stories go on. also I made a mistake with smth twice says, don't mind it 🤗

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LoV-

"weed or us?" "weed!" touya t. mha smau

"fine asf" touya t. mha smau

"chivalry isn't dead ig" touya t. mha smau

"surprise?" touya t. mha smau

"together 💕" touya t. mha smau

Classmates-

"well damn" katsuki b. mha smau

"i don't hate you" katsuki b. mha smau

ProHeroes-

None yet..

"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.

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“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.”

oh hey guys, i'm back

hey guys, so this is a rough time for me rn. Earlier this year, my best friend Makayla was diagnosed with severe pneumonia and was hospitalized bc of the symptoms. we had thought she had gotten better and she was let out of the hospital with medication, but it wasn’t out of her system and it got used to the steroids. We didn’t notice until it was too late, and we didn’t make it to the hospital in time. Makayla is now where she’s better and where she will forever reside with relief.

It’s been a few weeks and I haven’t been able to bring it upon myself to post this and to let you all know bc this was her passion and I wish it didn’t die with her. I wish this wasn’t how her story ended, but it unfortunately is.

I hope you all are okay and tell your loved ones you love them. We are all grieving and I will list some phone numbers for anyone who needs to talk to someone. As we struggle to accept the fact that our beloved Makayla has passed, the family has a go fund me for their needs to help with the funeral and further payments. If interested to donate, please contact me here.

Although in her honor, i know she would want me to keep posting and to keep up with myself, so I will be posting some fics that I did before all of this went down.

Thank you for all your support, I hope you all talk to your loved ones and appreciate them.

988-Crisis National Hotline

1-800-395-5755

1-800-394-HOPE

i need to ride his face sorry

"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!

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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.

Hey,

I have another question for you 👀

Could you imagine writing for House of the Dragon? If you’ve watched it!

Have a good day/night🫶

Your reader ❤️

Heyy, I might have another answer for you 👀

I haven't watched House of the Dragon, nor the Game of Thrones series, but if I ever did watch them, I would absolutely write for them! It might be the next show I watch, but I already have so many shows, so it might be a while before I get to them!

Have a good day/night 🫶

Hi,

I hope you're doing well!

I wanted to ask you which character from the movie "It" is your favorite and why. I’m really interested to know what you like about that character.

Looking forward to your response!

Your reader 🫶

Hi, I'm doing great! I hope you are too, it's been kind of rough this summer 😭 I've had a surgery, so I haven't been able to update the story much, and I'm so sorry! But to answer your question,

my favorite It character is definitely Pennywise. I really like how much the movies and the book portrayed him as a God-like entity, and he's very well written. Just enough to make you confused, but enough to make you want to know so much more. He's always been my favorite, and I've never like an It character more than him, even though I write so much about Patrick lol.

I do enjoy writing for Patrick, he's very fun to write and I feel like I can write him much better than any other character, but Pennywise will always have a special place for me.

Thanks for asking!

I have a question for guys. does sticking that shit in peanut butter feel good or smth? like what tf is going on with your dicks. I need an explanation to this.

Hey,

I hope you are doing well. I wanted to ask how your grandma is doing in the hospital. I hope she gets better soon.

How are you dealing with your writer's curse? I know it can be tough, but I'm sure you'll find your inspiration again soon. Have a great day/evening! Love you!

Your reader ❤️

Aww, thank you for checking in!

She's doing a lot better now, she's been diagnosed with an autoimmune disease and has been resting. My writers curse does no want to seem to let up, so I've been trying to combat it with some other fics that I've needed to write.

The thing stopping me from writing is that I'm trying to find a way to transition from reader and Patrick arguing to them getting scared by Pennywise, but my brain won't think 😭

It's slowly coming together though, and I can't wait to share it with you!

Have a good day/evening, love you too ❤

Hii could you do a funny one between negan and Simon where they get drunk and they kiss by accident and both of them are just awkward about it but negan tells one of his jokes and they laugh it off

"Accidents Happen" n. smith Oneshot

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Summary (Fluff and Tension?): Simon and Negan get drunk after a long week of managing their communities, a tiny argument occurs, and ends with an accidental lip locking.

Warnings: Vulgar language, plenty uses of 'fuck', alcohol consumption, use of 'babe', teeny tiny spoiler but not really?

A/N: I'm so sorry I didn't get to this sooner 😭 I've had some stuff go down recently, so I've been busy with family matters and a bit of writers block for a couple of my works. But here we are, and I hope you like it! Flora doesn't exist, by the way, she's just a random name.

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It was four twenty-six in the morning, far too early for Negan and Simon to be awake. They both had a rough week trying to get Alexandria and the Hill-Top to comply with their demands, but of course, Rick likes to be rebellious.

He convinced the Hill-Top to stop giving them booze, for whatever reason that Negan didn’t care about, so the Saviors took all the alcohol from both communities as a ‘compromise.’ 

“Did he really?” Simon hiccuped from his chair in the make-shift conference room, pouring another glass of whiskey. Negan snorted and nodded his head.

“Yeah, kids got some fucking guts. I get why he’s Rick’s pride and joy, he’s pretty damn smart.” The two were talking about the countless times Carl outsmarted and talked back to Negan before there was a knock on the door. “The fuck do you want?”

“Uhm, Dr. Carson said he’s out of Aspirin. He needs someone to go on a run with him.” One of Negan’s wives slipped the door open a crack and gulped while staring into Negan’s cold eyes.

“So how about you send someone?” He raised an eyebrow and looked at his empty glass. When the woman left, he reached his hand over and grabbed Simon’s while he was drinking from it.

Simon stared at him while he chugged it down and tapped the glass on the table. Negan smiled at him and gestured towards the almost empty bottle with it.

“‘Nother hit, babe.” Simon only sighed and did what he told him to, just like always.

“I’m not your ‘babe.’” He screwed the cork back into the empty bottle and set it on the ground next to his chair, making sure not to knock it over.

Negan chuckled and lifted the glass to his chapped lips, locking eyes with Simon over the clear rim, “Right, and my name's not Negan.”

Simon scoffed and leaned back in his chair, remembering something he was supposed to tell Negan a while ago.

“Oh, you know Flora, at Hill-Top? Yeah, she uh,” He couldn’t help himself and let a laugh slip out while Negan set down the glass with a hard look in his eyes, “She thought I was gonna  fucking kill her the other day because she spilled paint on my shoes.”

“The blue paint?” Negan hummed and didn’t let his gaze leave Simon’s.

“Yeah.”

“The Hill-Top doesn’t have painters there.”

Moments of silence were shared between the men. They didn’t look away from each other, and Simon subconsciously covered the paint on his shoe with his other.

“What?”

“They don’t have painters there, Simon. They have farmers, and that’s all that those dickweeds spend their time doing. Those dumpster people, though? They’ve got painters. A lot of fucking painters. So many, in fact, that if you set foot in their community you’re bound to get some on you.”

Negan leaned forward until he was face to face with Simon, his whiskey breath flooding the man’s nostrils. “The same damn community that I told you to stop fucking seeing.”

Simon took in an angry breath, “I didn’t see them.”

“Are you lying to me, Simon?” 

“No.” His voice was just above a whisper, and another knock on the door ensued.

“Negan, we just wanted to confirm that you’re okay with us taking Dr. Carson to the hospital a couple miles away?” A man asked, looking between the two drunk men. Simon’s face was red, whether it be from anger, the alcohol, or something else, and so was Negan’s. 

“Get your tiny little ass outta here, and take the limp dick doctor with you!” Negan shouted and turned his head to look at the guy.

Spooked, the man nodded his head and quickly closed the door.

With the guy gone, Negan and Simon both turned their heads to look at each other, about to say an assumable insult at the other, when they realized they were a bit too close.

Their lips locked, and they both held still. Negan pulled away first, an unreadable expression on his face that Simon couldn’t pinpoint. He, on the other hand, had wide eyes and a light look of fear in them.

They didn’t say anything to each other, just staring at or though each other.

“This doesn’t make us gay, does it?”

“If it does, I’m totally putting you in a dress and making you one of my wives.” Negan raised his eyebrows playfully and grabbed his glass, downing the last bit of whiskey in it.

Simon snickered and shook his head, glad that his boss didn’t resent him. “How about we keep that between us?”

“Agreed. Accidents happen.” Negan groaned, stood up, and stretched. 

“Hittin’ the hay if you wanna come join me.” He winked and picked Lucille up from the table, slinging her over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t wanna steal you from the girls.” Simon stood up as well, grabbing the empty glass bottle. 

“Offer's always open.” Negan smirked and made his way towards the door, leaving his right-hand man in the conference room alone.

Simon hummed and listened to his footsteps weaken until he couldn’t hear Negan, set the bottle on the table, and put his hands in his pockets while staring at the door.

Was it an accident, though?

"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!!

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

“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!!