malle

21 she/her

[luvz-me]

my ask box is open if u wanna submit some prompts or anything at all! next story/smut/whatever im gonna be working on if i get positive feedback on model reader x patrick is gonna centered around tashi and reader going on a hike and then they go skinny dipping and all that fun stuff soooooo…

[luvz-me]

model reader getting booked for a sports campaign with patrick. receiving the phone call from your agent and not even taking a break to think before exclaiming yes.

you get to set, some secluded tennis court, and are immediately ushered to the hair&makeup chair. the team is blabbering about how patrick zweig is always late but praise you for being punctual. saying you've never heard that name would be a lie, but you just never really paid attention to sports. hell, high school physical education was your least favorite subject and you'd rather watch a movie than sit through a full game of... well whatever.

they style you in a cute little white tennis dress with a pleated skirt and a fitted bodice, make you put some white socks and white sneakers on before sending you over to the court under scorching hot sun. you greet the photographer and the creative director who explain the entire vibe of the shoot.

they do a couple test shots while waiting for the main star of the shoot before sitting down on a chair and asking everyone else if the guy is always late. they confirmed and all you could do was sigh and make small talk as you waited.

just as you're about to ask the photographer if he's sure patrick is coming, you see a figure approaching from afar, walking calmly towards you all, making a half-assed apology about how traffic was chaos.

you get up and notice him eyeing you up and down before smiling and introducing himself with a wolfish grin "guess you're gonna be my partner today huh" you cant help bit feel slightly intimidated but you brush it off, following the photographers commands

"remember, this shoot is all about selling not only the clothes but tennis as a sport. and sex sells, so give us that." the man holding the camera explained, earning a loud chuckle from patrick

following the photographer's instructions you both walked over to the net, posing with the rackets.

you feel patrick’s presence beside you, his confidence overbearing. you try to match his energy, holding the racket with a seductive smile. the camera clicks and flashes a couple times capturing you, still separated.

the photographer instructs patrick to move closer to the net, almost to lean against it and to place a hand on your waist. his touch sends a shiver down your spine, but you maintain your composure, keeping the playful yet alluring expression on your face. “perfect,” the photographer praises, urging you both to hold the pose.

patrick leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “you’re good at this,” he murmurs, and you can’t help but blush. you respond with a soft laugh, “just doing my job.”

you were used to this. co-workers flirting with you on set just to get invited out and then see them months later at a casting. not that you didn't take part in the banter but at this point, patrick made you wait for so long in the sun that he had to do better to get your full attention.

“okay, let’s take a break for an outfit change,” the creative director announces. you head back to the dressing room, where they hand you another outfit, this one more daring. it’s a shorter skirt, tighter top, and a visor to shield your eyes from the sun.

as you change, you think about patrick’s flirtatious comments. he's hot but he’s going to have to step up his game, literally. you step back onto the court, feeling the new outfit accentuate every curve enhancing your confidence

patrick is already there, waiting. he’s changed into shorts, and a t-shirt hung from his shoulders, showing off his athletic build. he looks you up and down, a spark of appreciation in his eyes. “looking good,” he says with a smirk.

“thanks,” you reply, giving him a coy smile.

the photographer and creative director reposition you both for the next set of shots. this time, the poses are more intimate, emphasizing physical connection. the photographer instructs patrick to stand behind you, his arms around you as if guiding your swing. his arms flexing against you

his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of your clothes. his hands are firm on your waist, guiding you through the motion of a tennis swing. “keep your eye on the ball,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear.

you can feel your heart racing, but you keep your focus, following the photographer’s commands. the camera clicks.

“great job, you two. now let’s try something a bit more daring and then we can wrap this up”

the photographer tells patrick to sit on the ground, his back against the net, legs slightly apart. you are instructed to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of his hips, your bodies pressed close together.

patrick instinctively places his hands on your waist, pulling you even closer as you lean into him. your hands rest on his shoulders for balance, and the photographer asks you to tilt your head slightly, exposing your neck. patrick’s eyes follow the curve of your neck, his gaze intense and smoldering.

“perfect,” the photographer says, snapping several shots. “now, let’s add the racket for some dynamic action.”

you pick up the racket and hold it with one hand, resting it on patrick’s shoulder. patrick’s hands slide down your waist to your hips, his grip firm. his eyes lock onto yours.

“beautiful. now, patrick, lean in as if you’re about to kiss her neck,” the photographer instructs.

patrick’s lips hover just above your skin, his breath warm against your neck. you can feel the tension building, the proximity and the anticipation adding to the intensity of the shoot. you tilt your head further, giving the camera a sultry look, lips slightly parted. one of your hands on his chest, slowly travelling down his abs. just for the shot you thought to yourself.

you had to keep reminding yourself this was just a job. only a job. strictly a job.

“fantastic! let’s get a few more shots like this.”

patrick’s hands slide up your back, holding you close as you both follow the photographer’s commands. you feel his fingers slipping under the hem of your top, each pose is more intimate than the last, the line between professional and personal blurring.

finally, the photographer calls for a wrap. you and patrick stay in the pose for a moment longer, the energy between you almost tangible. you pull away and earn a groan of disappointment from him. you walk back to the dressing room and chugging from a water bottle. and briefly look back to see zweig adjusting his boner. you giggle to yourself.

suddenly, you hear hurried footsteps behind you, and you turn to see patrick catching up.

“you were incredible,” he says, his voice low and genuine, but there's a hint of cockiness in his tone. he runs a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself.

“thanks,” you reply, smiling, feeling a rush of heat from his compliment.

“give me your number. i need to see you again, outside of this shoot.”

you raise an eyebrow, “you athletes always this forward with the models you work with?” you ask, a smirk playing on your lips. "i'm not gonna fuck you just because we did all that back there."

patrick chuckles, not missing a beat. “aw.. why not?” he replies forcing a pleading look. he notices when you start to walk away "oh my god that was a joke.." it wasn't. "come on.."

"sorry, but i don't fall for the 'athlete charm' that easily," you retort with a grin "but alright, ill give you my number" just out of boredom, you thought. nothing else (liar!) "i walk for Versace tomorrow and i'll be at the afterparty so i won't be able to go out" saying this just to make sure he doesn't get his hopes up

patrick's grin widens, his eyes smoldering with determination. "oh i'll be there, donatella is friends with my mother" he promises, his voice low. "can't wait to see you strut your stuff on that runway."

is he trying to outwit you? of fucking course a professional tennis player like him had to have insanely rich parents. "okay, um... see you there then" you smile trying to hide your annoyance "you have to wait till the after party to see me"

"oh, i'm patient," he murmurs, stepping closer until you can feel the heat radiating off him. "but when that afterparty starts…" his voice trails off suggestively, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

your breath catches as his hand ghosts over yours, sending tingles up your arm. "alright well, i need to change and get home, so excuse me" you say regaining composure "maybe i'll let you buy me a drink at the afterparty," you say with a sly smile

patrick chuckles softly behind you "looking forward to it," he replies, his tone carrying a promise of what's to come.

tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

fashion week is in full swing, with models, designers, and makeup artists all working in a synchronized dance.

the show goes off without a hitch, and you feel a rush of adrenaline as you strut down the runway, the flashing lights, applause and upbeat music boosting your confidence, posing for a few seconds at the end of it before walking back backstage and getting in line again to close the show.

it's fucking chaos backstage, assistants yelling at eachother and all you can think about is the afterparty. not because of patrick... to be honest you had forgotten about him already. like yeah he was one of the hottest guys you have ever seen but he wasn't the first to try anything and him being an athlete wasn't helping his case. you weren't trying to become a WAG so soon being that you're a promising new face. he also hadn't texted after exchanging numbers.

scratch that completely because the moment you even thought about him texting you you hear the faint sound of the notification from your purse. you dig your hand in and pull out a bunch of things - earphones, a pack of gum, cigarettes... messy girl - before finally grabbing your phone.

patrick: front row at the show. you should just bring that dress to the after party, save time ;)

of course he had to type like that. asshole. you huff and throw your phone back inside your cluttered bag, hurriedly changing into your night outfit. a white corset top alongside some black leather lace up shorties, black tights and some slightly heeled boots. you decided to keep your hair as is, because who would want to waste a professionally done hair-do? you didn't dare to change the makeup either. a black smokey eye was perfect for the event.

you leave the venue for the show hurriedly, saying goodbye to all your friends as you hail a cab back to your model apartment. you drop your bag there before hailing yet another cab to go to the afterparty.

the place was so luxurious you almost felt out of place until you saw some of your friends. you rush over to them, your faces lighting up as you embrace, laughter and excited chatter filling the air. you hang out for a bit before you walk off to the bar, promising to find them by the dance floor later.

you're about to ask the bartender for a mojito when you feel the warmth of a hand on your shoulder, fingers reaching to caress the curve of your neck. you turn back abruptly almost blurting out a "what do you think you're doi-" before cutting yourself off upon seeing who it was.

patrick stands there, his trademark grin in place. "i said i'd pay for the damn drink yesterday, or did you forget?" he teases "anyway" slightly guiding you to move out of the way "a whiskey sour and a...?"

"mojito." you repeat in annoyance "actually ask for 2 already" if he was gonna buy you a drink and startle you like that he might as well double it

"aight," he replies, never once letting go of that grin. aight, you repeat in your head, forcing yourself not to mock him. you have to be nice, he just got you two drinks. at once even.

patrick hands you the mojitos and gestures towards the dark leather couches in the corner. "let's take a seat," he suggests, his eyes twinkling with that same mischievous energy.

you follow him to the couches sitting down, the soft leather sinking under your weight.

"busy girl didn't even answer my text. nice shorts" he quips, almost cornering you

"you knew i was coming.. why would i answer?" you say softly batting your lashes and sipping from the straw, seemingly unamused by his attempts at getting closer

you roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to maintain composure when he doesn't divert his gaze. "flattery won't get you anywhere, zweig."

"who said anything about flattery?" patrick counters, his voice low. "i'm just stating the obvious."

you arch an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "yeah, for a pro athlete you don't seem very good at the straightforwardness thing." giggling and cutting through the tension "watch my drink for me"

patrick grins, watching you as you slide off the couch and head to the dance floor. he remains seated, his eyes following your every move with an amused expression. you lose yourself in the music for a while with your girl friends exchanging the newest gossip

"ugh, i don't know, he's obviously super hot and is into me but..." you say over the music, your voice almost cracking trying to make your friends hear you. they scold you saying it's patrick fucking zweig, telling you to let loose, and to go for it. you dance to one more song before dipping "i'm thirsty, gonna go back to grab my drink"

you strut towards patrick once again, who's lounging comfortably on the couch, his arms sprawled, eyes never leaving you. his fingers fidget with a pack of lucky strikes, a cigarette hanging from his lips. seeing your glance, he wordlessly hands you one, his lighter already poised, but a stressed employee interrupts with a warning that smoking inside is forbidden unless you use the smoking area.

patrick swiftly rises, grabbing your hand without a word and leading you towards the door. as he opens it, revealing a crowded smoking area typical of a fashion event, he smirks to himself, feeling one step closer to his goal.

"so, guess we have to brave the cold outside... or," patrick suggests with a playful glint in his eye, "we could head back to my place."

"your place sounds warmer" you concede, slipping your hand into his

outside, you find his van waiting discreetly in the shadows, slightly shielded from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. you duck behind patrick as he opens the door, cameras catch a glimpse of you both. once inside, the atmosphere shifts, the air thick with anticipation. he's gleeful once he realizes his stupid plan worked, cig still dancing on his lips he gets the pack of lucky strikes and places it back. zweig instructs his driver to go.

his hands playfully pull at the thin fabric of your thighs during the whole drive, sliding up and down to the hem of your shorts. your breath hitches, scooting his hand away a few times, trying to be discreet but his banter with the driver isn't helping your case at all.

the car finally stops by a luxurious apartment complex, he grabs your hand again and leads you off the car into the elevator. clicking on floor number 5 and frantically pressing the closing doors button. you lean back on the cold steel surface, eyeing him up and down with a smile "had to drag me back to your place for a smoke huh? addiction is a bitch zweig"

patrick takes a step towards you, cupping your face "such a smarty pants you are" he mocks in a higher tone before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. you quickly oblige, parting them and letting him in. the kiss is full of pent up tension, his hand cheekily squeezing your ass as the elevator door opens "come."

he slams the door open dragging you inside, almost making you trip. the moment the door clicks shut, he pushes you against it, his body pressing into yours taking a second to admire you. the rustle of his jacket coming off snapping you out of it.

"thought we were only coming here to smoke?" you raise an eyebrow, voice barely above a whisper

"oh fuck you" he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky. a smile creeping in. patrick wasn't used to your attitude at all

"i know you want to" softly reaching for his hair, pulling it just enough so he hisses and before you know it you're thrown over his shoulder squealing and being dropped onto the bed. his body now looming over yours, hands slipping under your top, pushing it up and over your head. no bra.

his eyes rake over your bare skin, fingers caressing your nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. back arching hoping to feel as much of him as you could. tugging at his shirt he smirks and leans back to take it off. eyes following his happy trail

patrick leaves a trail of kisses on your torso leading to your shorts, untying them with his teeth and then slowly pulling them off your legs revealing some black panties "you dont even know the amount of restraint i had not to fucking jack off on set in between the wardrobe changes. couldn't stop thinking about your body on mine"

"yeah?" you reach for his pants unbuttoning them

"fuck yeah, open that mouth up f'me don't be greedy" pressing his fingers on your cheeks and spitting into it. lightly slapping you when you swallow with a smile "holy shit.. "

your eyes widen when he just takes everything off. you sit up and patrick takes no time to grab a fistful of your hair guide his cock to your lips "now you're gonna be good and take it" he commands. you lick around the tip, cupping his balls, eyes on his and slowly begin to move back and forth when he just pushes your head in on his hairy crotch. eyes filling with tears as you gag on it. he groans, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrusts deeper into your throat

after a few intense moments, he pulls back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his shaft. he smirks down at you, wiping the saliva away with his thumb. "fuck you're better than i ever imagined"

you could cum right then and there at the sight

he pulls you up, flipping you onto your stomach and you just arch back out of instinct, your ass wiggling against him. extending your arms on the bed, almost stretching. you feel his hands on your hips, pulling down your panties, leaving you completely exposed. he spits and spreads it with his thumb, caressing your puckering hole all the way until he reaches your pussy. lowering himself and licking a generous strip of it. "please" you bite your lip, your pride battling with your desire. but the ache between your legs wins. "please, patrick. fuck me."

"so fucking wet for me" his voice hoarse

he thrusts into you with a force that makes you gasp, filling you completely. he sets a relentless pace, his hands gripping your hips as he pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. "so good" you mewl gripping the sheets

your moans mix with his, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. you can feel every inch of him, the roughness of his thrusts, the way he hits that perfect spot inside you over and over.

he reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. the combination sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you, your walls clenching around him.

with a final, deep thrust, he follows you over the edge, his hot release filling you. "i love this tight pussy of yours" he collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily, the room filled with the scent of sex. he lingers inside for a while, until he catches his breath and pulls out.

you slowly turn and lay on your back reaching for your aching slit and bringing one of your fingers to your mouth, tasting him as he gazes with his mouth wide open

"you're gonna fucking kill me" he says, still out of breath

"you asked for it" you grin at his words, feeling a rush of satisfaction. "and here i thought athletes had the stamina to keep up," you tease, your voice breathy.

"whatever,” he begins, “time for the smoke break” he reaches for his nightstand, grabbing the pack of lucky strikes and his lighter handing you one.

[luvz-me]

yesss part 2 for model reader omg 🙌🏻🙌🏻

will do! when i post it ill just delete pt1 and just post the story in full

[luvz-me]

challengers nsfw twit links

art donaldson stanford era art in his dorm stanford era art training your throat art training you while talking to patrick on the phone patrick zweig stepbrother!patrick car rides with patrick patrick finishing in your ass patrick punishing you

tashi duncan eating tashi out in the dorms tashi warming you up before you take her strap tashi decompressing again interchangeable just the tip tashi helping you out with patrick/art

[luvz-me]

being at the last year of your sports medicine university course abroad in america was like a dream come true. but in all honesty you just wanted it to be over and quick. the prospect of having to intern at a random clinic for three months wasn't appealing at all. you made sure to send your cv to different physiotherapy clinics, gyms, sports clubs but still no answer.

watching all your colleagues start earlier than you was discouraging until one afternoon, after watching 2 boring movies a guy at a club told you to watch last night you got a call.

someone with a very poised voice starts talking almost immediately, "good afternoon, i'm speaking on behalf of the sports clinic and i was wondering if you'd be available for an interview tomorrow morning regarding your internship application?"

you almost envied the way there wasn't any hint of nervousness in their voice. it was almost immediate the way you accepted the offer, in all honesty you just wanted to get it over with.

you started your internship there after almost a week until one day, by the evening you witnessed something you never thought you would. tashi fucking duncan walking in the clinic right as you were about to leave. you felt your stomach turn, not in the bad way, but in the - what the fuck, did i hit my head somewhere and wake up in an alternate universe? - way. your anxiety making you want to throw up seeing one of the people you wrote countless essays about stand before you.

"i'm looking to book a sports physician. medium term for art donaldson, need them to be able to come in-house monday through friday." you heard her say to the receptionist, blunt yet always polite. one of your idols standing just a few meters away from you made you weak at the knees. you were aware the clinic was well frequented but you never thought she'd be in your sight ever.

you looked at your nails, pondering if you should start biting them, regaining a bad habit just because you found yourself in a situation you couldn't control sounds very much like you but tashi probably would think that's gross so you stop.

a client you had been assigned to arrives and you curse yourself out for not being able to keep listening to the conversation anymore. the day never ended. each glance you took at the clock just seemed like you were stopped in time. sighing while helping the elder woman stretch her upper body and muttering some words of praise, explaining to her that she'd have to keep coming for at least one more week so the pain could dissipate. you flashed her a smile as she got up and said goodbye, thanking you endlessly for helping her ease the pain.

your supervisor had been watching you. giving some criticism on this session with the client. as you were about to leave she pulled you aside and informed you that starting tomorrow you'd be going to tashi duncans house.

everything inside was pristine, you were even scared to even lean against the furniture in fear you'd somehow break it. tashi had given you a quick house tour, her heels clacking on the hardwood floors as she warmed you up to her, occasionally telling jokes about herself and saying you reminded her of herself. when she was in college. you didn't really know what that meant but you decided to take it as a compliment, nervously fidgeting your fingers. art was nowhere to be seen up until you reached the gym area.

standing there, broad shoulders scrolling through his phone, distracted and flashing a smile towards his wife once she clears her throat and wraps an arm around his shoulder. introducing you to each other and leaving promptly, saying she had a meeting with her pr team and that she'd be back at 8 pm.

you swallow dry. standing there awkwardly with your backpack on your shoulders.

"so.. umm were gonna start with wall angels maybe. tashi told me thats your problem area right now" you blurted out, trying to sound as professional as possible "just. place your arms against the wall in a 90 degree angle and slowly straighten them"

art follows suit, standing against the wall awkwardly moving his arms up and down before asking "how old are you?" breaking the silence

"i'm 21" you mutter in surprise analysing his form and his toned shoulders, and arms.. and muscles. eyes narrowing trying to remind yourself that this is not one of your hookups, this is art fucking donaldson and you're here for an internship. at his house. in his fancy home gym. hes not yours to admire. "why?"

"ah.. just wanted to know" art shrugs, looking at you intently. he gets up suddenly, yet his movements are deliberate. you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, your pulse quicken as i looked at the man before me. "can you show me how to do it properly?" his voice drops to a lower tone and all you can do for a few seconds is flutter your lashes at him

"but this is pretty easy already, i don't know how to ex-"

"i said, i want you to show me" art cuts you off, his gaze literally burning through your skull

art mirrors your movements, his eyes never leaving yours. you hope he doesn't notice the slight tremble in your hands.

"like this?" he asks, his voice even softer now, almost a whisper.

you nod, your breath hitching. "yes, just like that. make sure to keep your back flat against the wall."

he follows your instructions, his body inching closer. you can feel the heat emanating from him, a stark contrast to the cool, clinical setting of the gym. there's a tension in the air, a charged silence that makes your heart race.

"you're good at this," he murmurs, his eyes darkening with an emotion you can't quite place

your cheeks flush, the compliment catching you off guard. "i appreciate that, mr. donaldson."

he moves closer, his body now just inches from yours. you can feel the magnetism between you, a pull that's impossible to ignore. his hand reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. the gesture is tender, almost too intimate for your professional setting. "it's art, yeah? call me art, i don't want to feel like an old fart" he grins

"i should… i should check your shoulder alignment," you stammer, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "you're a bit tight here," you say, your voice trembling slightly. "let me help you."

you guide him through a series of stretches, your hands lingering a bit longer than necessary on his shoulders, his back. the room feels smaller, the air thicker with each passing moment.

the session was over. finally. you gathered your things and slid your backpack over your shoulders. art's gaze is still on you and it's impossible not to feel it "are you in a hurry to leave?"

"umm, no i just. no im not in a hurry" you smile "just don't want to bother you anymore" your breath catches in your throat

"i was hoping we could talk a bit more. get to know each other better." he smirks. what the fuck "tashi told me some things about you but i think one on one conversation is far better" grabbing your hand and guiding you to a small resting area at the gym engaging in some superficial conversation about you while tracing circles in the back of your hand. you can't help but sigh. his hands becoming more and more pervasive, touching your thighs, reaching up up up until he's close to your crotch. a slight whine escapes your mouth. you're not focusing on the conversation at all.

"art, this is not-"

"tashi doesn't have to know" he replies knowing tashi knows damn well. hell, she even planned this for him. it wasn't her intention to scout a pretty little physiotherapist like you at first. but you were at the right place, at the right time. the moment she took a glance at you she knew she had to have you. it was a plus art needed help with his shoulders. his hands roaming on the waistband of your tight leggings, your mouth parting with a sigh. sigh that he takes as opportunity to crash his lips against yours. your eyes narrow at first and for a second you try to pull back but you don't really want to.

his fingers edging closer to your panties, the tightness of the leggings increasing the skin on skin contact. "aw you look so pretty with your lips parted. you wanna take my fingers in you don't you huh?" now hovering over you, caressing you over your top "fucking corrupt that little head of yours"

you can't help but let out a moan that sends him over the edge. sliding your leggings down caressing you over your panties. before pushing two fingers inside your mouth for you to suck. "you want this don't you baby?"

"mhm" you nod trying your hardest not to bite him when he uses his opposite hand to caress your sensitive nub. furrowing your eyebrows trying your hardest not to grab his arm. his calloused fingers leaving your plump mouth suddenly and making a 'pop' sound "but tashi might" cut off by the pads of his fingers circling your clit

"tashi doesn't mind" his voice hungry "im just helping you out yeah? we're just getting acquainted" one of his fingers teases your entrance slowly entering earning a sharp wince from you. the unfamiliar feeling slowly turning into pleasure as he slid it in and out "open your eyes f'me, let me see those pretty eyes"

you bite your lip staring at his face as he does such a lewd thing to you, and you let him. knowing he has a wife. somehow this made it even more arousing. whats wrong with you? "gonna add one more finger, fuck you're so tight around me, so good. i bet that clit would feel so good around my tongue" small tears cornering around your eyes. the soft noises leaving your lips only encouraging him to keep going.

"feels good huh baby?" he coos, his face edging closer and closer to your clit as your hips rise, only to stop once you're about to cum. abruptly sliding your panties back up along with your leggings.

this earns him a well deserved mewl. edging you like this. stopping when you were just so so close was just so mean of him. looking up at him just to see him lick your juices off his fingers, feeding them to you. "suck" he commands "don't be mad, i just need to make sure you come back for more sessions" fixing your hair and picking up your backpack from where you left it on the gym floor