I lied... I haven't written much but i really really really want to 😭
Thanks ❤️
I'm ready a lot of Heated Rivalry lately so I was inspired by that but I think I might write some Challengers stuff because I miss those three mother fuckers..
⋆˙⟡ emo fuck: scenemo!patrick x afab!cheerleader!reader.
꒰ summary: when you swear you'd never let that loser emo touch you again but here you are, inside the bathroom during a party, his dick inside you. yeah. ꒱
꒰ cw: mdni. +18. 5.1k words. bullying. teasing. mocking. mention of blackmail. name-calling (bitch/whore). dirty-talking. description of reader as a sex-toy. mention of deepthroating. hair pulling. making out. nipple play. oral sex (reader!receiving). protected piv. bitchy!patrick & reader. ꒱
Patrick wasn’t the type of guy to wake up at God’s hour on a Saturday morning, and especially not if the remnant of the party from the night before was still in his veins.
He remembered the Vodka served in the typical red cup, a laughter from behind him and a smirk on his face as he had watched you, passing by with disgust on your face like you liked to show so well.
It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last either; because in the campus hierarchy, Patrick was way under you. Him, and his skinny jeans, his black eyeliner and all the shitty things that made him… him. The cocky emo asshole, as you liked to call him.
Yes, he was a cockroach under your pretty shoes; you were better than him, after all. What could be wrong with the cheerleader captain? You had great grades, friends that liked you, great skin, great hair.
You were perfect in all the ways your friends wanted you to be, superior and superficial. But there was something you could never be; free like Patrick was.
And that? It made your blood boil every time you saw his face on the campus, at the frat parties he knew how to get invited to. The fucker with his cocky smile, his fucking skinny jeans that showed a bit too much in the lower region – the freak who got on your nerves like no one else.
And Zweig always made it his mission to annoy you whenever he was around, throwing you looks like he knew something you didn’t, a cocky fucking smile on his face and eyes that sparkled. Fuck that guy. Quite literally.
The first time it happened, it was during the Halloween frat party. You had been invited by one of your friend’s boyfriend – the type of guy that wouldn’t touch with a stick and you ignored him most of the time.
You went there wearing your cheerleader uniform as a last-minute costume, but you knew how many of the guys there liked it, oogling you like you were a trophy. Disgusting pigs. Though, red cup in your hand, you never expected to find Patrick smoking a joint in the backyard when the music got too loud for your ears.
You could remember the way his eyes followed the curves of your body, his lips curling in a smirk that made the heat pool in your lower belly, even when you tried to disguise it as annoyance.
A few insults were thrown around but mostly on your part, “Which dumbfuck invited you in, loser?”, “You useless piece of shit” or even “You emo fuck.” (Not your greatest insult). And Patrick never backed away from you, that’s probably what brought you closer.
You don’t even know how it had happened really, but by the end of the night, you were both fucking on the side of the house while the party was still going on inside. The loud music covered your moans – how you cried Patrick's name while he pistonned you on his cock.
Your fingers tugged on his hair, your pussy creamed his hardness like no one else did before and you held onto him while coming from your high. You couldn’t lie to yourself; it had been the best sex of your life.
Yes, but you were too proud and as soon as it was over, you mocked it off and walked away, throwing another insult at Patrick’s face. Since then, it was like he had something to blackmail you with.
You tried your best to keep the disgust on your face whenever he was around, mocking him loudly when your friends could hear and laugh about it. It wouldn't change those moments you had with him under the bleachers; how you gagged on his cock while he called you his little cheerleader whore.
When his fingers tugged on your hair and forced your throat to accommodate to his cock. When he came down your throat and you swallowed, glaring at him with rage and disgust even though he knew you loved it all.
That’s exactly what had happened that night again.
One of the fraternities had thrown another of their famous parties; loud music, red cups being shared around with alcohol so strong that one sip was enough for your throat to burn like a dragon’s. That time, no one had costumes but most of the cheerleaders still had their uniforms on – just being back from a tournament.
All the girls were glad for this party and even you, being the captain wasn’t always easy, even if you were confident enough to know you’d win the trophy again.
Your body pushed past others, waving and smiling at those who talked to you like you were friends or just acquaintances. Your feet walked and you found yourself in the – what seemed to be the kitchen – and when you turned your head to the side, you saw him.
The fucker.
Here, again, with his glorious cockiness and his fucking black skinny jeans like he knew those were your kryptonite. The bulge they were creating was candy for your orbs but you tried to keep those up, to his face – just to see him already looking at you.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, and for a second, you cursed the fact that no one you knew seemed to be around at the moment. Your movements faltered and Patrick took the occasion to speak. “Didn’t think you’d be here. The tournament went well?”
You could feel the mocking in his voice like he had any rights to use the tone with you, that fucking freak. You ignored him for a second but the urge to reply was too heavy.
“T’fuck you want, loser? Why you care?” You asked back at him, eyes glowing with disgust even if you knew Patrick would see through it. He shrugged and looked away, acting like he didn’t really care. Maybe he just wanted to annoy you, like he always did.
A silence (not so much, with the loud music, the chatter, the laughter) fell between you both and you took a sip of your red cup, leaning back against the kitchen counter.
But even with that, you couldn’t help yourself and kept talking.
“Who the fuck invited you, anyway? You have friends here, emo fuck?” You threw at him, the childish mocking evident in your tone. Patrick’s eyes shifted back to your face and he didn’t even look insulted. He smirked, sipping his own drink – alcohol – as you guessed.
For a second, he did just that. Drinking, looking at you through his eyelashes before he licked his lips, pink tongue dragging along his lower lip and wetting his lip ring.
“You’re such a bitch, uh? Think you better than me?” He finally spoke and you scoffed at his words. Thought you were better than him? Of course you were. You were the cheerleader captain, the one with lots of friends, idolized by almost everyone on the campus, with the good grades and pretty face. While Patrick was the fucking loser. Just Patrick.
“Babe, of course I am. I am better in any way.” You said, looking at him up and down.
“That’s not what you said when I had my fat fucking cock inside your pussy, two weeks ago.” The words made you straighten your back and you snarled at him, disgust on your face that, for once, looked more natural than any other expressions.
Your shoes hit the floor as you approached him, one finger pointed at his chest. “Shut the fuck up, you fucking loser. This never happened, heard me?!” You replied, even though you knew there was no way you could threaten someone like Patrick. Not someone that didn’t give a fuck about anything.
Patrick smirked again – like it was his favorite thing to do whenever you talked because in a way, he was the one mocking you more than you mocked him. You could act high and mighty but he had you wrapped around his finger like the pathetic thing you were.
“Yeah, yeah. I never made you cream on my cock, I guess.” The words were said with amusement – this was nothing but a game to him. To you, it was your reputation on the edge if anyone heard this conversation.
So you did the only thing that made sense and grabbed his wrist, fingers tight as you tugged him away from the kitchen and into the crowd of party people. No one seemed to care; either too drunk, too high or too busy with having fun.
You couldn’t help but throw glances around to make sure no one could blackmail you with being seen with the emo loser of Stanford University.
The sound of yours and Patrick’s steps on the stairs was eaten by the loud music, even when you both made your way to one of the empty bathrooms of the second floor. You pushed Patrick inside, realizing he held little to zero reticence to what was happening.
He moved to lean his back onto the counter, crossing his arm onto his tight shirt, bracelets clicking onto one another. You closed the door behind you both and for a second, you gave yourself the permission to really look at him.
Black skinny jeans, two belts on his waist, a tight black shirt (one that looked more of a crop top the way you could see his happy trail) with a stupid trash print on it – probably from a band he listened to – some beat Converse shoes, black painted nails, one streak of red in his hair.
He was the typical stereotype of an emo boy.
“If you wanted me to fuck you again, you just had to say it.” His words took you out of your thoughts and you groaned at him, rolling your eyes. “You’re not as funny as you think you are, you fucker. Stop joking. It happened like… twice and won’t happen again.” You replied to him immediately, leaning back against the door, arms crossed on your cheerleader top, a sliver of skin showing between the fabric and the hem of your skirt.
But who were you kidding? You both had sex twice before, you had gagged on his cock at least three times and let him finger you under the bleachers before too. It was bound to happen again.
Patrick’s eyes seemed to follow where your skin was showing, finally, and didn’t reply. He hummed under his breath, words you didn’t care about enough to ask about. He licked his bottom lip again, and you had to look away because you knew the effect that had on you; even if he was unaware of that.
You refused to let him use it as a weapon against you. And you refused to fell into his fucking game once more.
You refused to think about his lips on yours, his fingers tugging your panties to the side, stretching your pussy out with cold digits, his tongue licking stripes from your hole to your clit. Thinking about his pink tip pushing inside your pussy... Fuck, no.
You sighed, pushing the thoughts away before looking at him again but his eyes were already on you like he understood what you were thinking about. He smirked again and pushed himself from the counter to approach you. “I bet you’re wet right now. Popular cheerleader wanting to be fucked by the emo loser, flashnews.”
You hated the tone in his voice but couldn’t deny the truth those words held. You didn’t reply and Patrick took that as an invitation.
Soon enough, he was close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath on your face – the stink of alcohol made you furrow your eyebrows in disgust – his hands moved to your hips and you did nothing to move away, but your lips parted.
“The fuck you think you are doing, you asshole? Move your fucking hands.” You snarled at him, your own hands grabbed his biceps, his short sleeves making you able to feel his skin under your palms.
His muscles bulged under your grip and your attention shifted to where your hands rested; thinking about how this loser could make you feel like that. You hated this. He was nothing compared to you, he was no one, and never will be.
You could never be seen around this fucker, you; the one on top of the hierarchy. Yet, you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt for him or how the heat pooled in your belly every time he gave you his infamous smirk.
“You listening to me?” Your eyes shifted back to his face when he talked, and that’s when you realized his hands were now under the top of your uniform, cold onto your warm skin, fingers spread onto your ribs. You didn’t move. Not because you couldn’t, but because you didn’t want to.
“I said… I bet your tits are as soft as they were last time. Going to let me touch them?” Patrick’s voice was filled with mocking, like he was the one holding the reins, and maybe he was, in that moment.
You sighed, expression turning into disgust once more before you replied to him, trying to shift the dominance back your way. “I mean, that’s the only pair of tits you’ll never touch, eh? I’m probably being generous to you right now.”
He chuckled at the words coming from your mouth but instead of keeping the banter going, he only moved his hands higher on your body – until they stopped to cup your breasts above your bra.
He didn’t stop there, and lifted the fabric of your top above the valley of your tits, only so he could see what he was doing and probably so you could feel the humiliation of his eyes on your body. As if you were ever going to give him that – to him, to this loser.
Patrick’s eyes then moved back to your face like waiting for permission, and only being given a look in return. One he understood, since his fingers pushed your bra up, your breasts bounced back for his pleasure – he grinned at the view he had now. “Just as I remembered.” to which you replied with a grunt, “Shut the fuck up, oh my God.”
His cold hands moved to cup your bare tits, heavy in his palms, cold thumbs brushing onto your nipples – the action made you shiver and arch closer to him. He immediately smirked and looked at you like he won the round. Like he was the winner of a game he was playing alone in this bathroom.
He didn’t say anything and he suddenly pinched your nipples between his fingers, rolling them until you gasped and your thighs clenched. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you liked it – but the pleasure was too visible on your face.
Patrick kept silent, tugging and pinching your nipples. “Fuck, you're such a fucking loser…” The words left your mouth before you could help yourself but they were more of a habit than a real insult, for once.
And Patrick, fucking loser that he was, replied by lowering his head to your chest, sucking one nipple into his mouth. Lips closing around your bud, tongue circling it, teeth grazing it as you threw your head back against the door. The cold metal of his lip ring made you shiver.
One of your hands immediately left his bicep to tug on his hair, pulling him closer. One nipple inside his mouth and the other between his finger; you felt the wetness pool between your thighs, pussy clenching around nothing as Patrick only gave attention to your chest.
At that moment you knew that you didn’t want him to stop; because even if you hated him — or acted like you did — he made you feel good.
His hips moved to grind against your thighs, the rough fabric of his jeans scratched your skin due to the short cheerleader skirt you wore. You could already feel the bulge rubbing onto you; Patrick rutting like a dog in heat and almost begging to put it inside you.
“I hope you have a fucking condom, I’m not letting you fuck me raw.” The words escaped your lips and he finally let go of your nipple in a loud pop; now wet with his saliva.
Patrick lifted his head back to you, serious and he moved his free hand in his pocket. “Yeah, yeah… Somewhere in here.” He replied before taking his wallet out. You rolled your eyes at his action until he took a condom out, and just placed it on the bathroom counter.
“Let me just… Okay, maybe I’m the one who really wants to fuck now.” He joked but you didn’t laugh.
He moved his attention away from your tits, his hands tugging at the uniform skirt you wore, until it pooled at your ankles. You helped him by shifting your legs open, hands on his shoulders as he fell onto his knees in front of you. Patrick sighed like he had just seen Heaven, focused on the damp patch of wetness decorating your panties. “Looks so fucking good—”
You groaned at him, one hand snaking into his dark curls just to tug on it. “Are you going to talk or eat my pussy out, loser?” Those words made him smirk again and you almost regretted them.
He looked up at you when his cold fingers slowly pushed your panties down; past your hips, down your thighs and at your ankles. The cold air hit your skin, making you realize how wet you were at that moment.
He licked his lips when looking at you, hands moving to your thighs to spread them a little, making you move your feet apart. You kept holding on onto his shoulders, looking at his face with impatience.
“Hey, weirdo, stop looking and—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as Patrick went for it without any warning. He immediately closed his lips around your warm clit, sucking and swirling his tongue in circles. You gasped, almost folding over but he held you firmly with his hands on your thighs. “Fuck—” The curse left your mouth as he sucked more.
It was the first time Patrick ate you out so you couldn’t really compare to previous experiences; but you could tell that it was going to be good, the way he played with your clit.
And even as he finally let go to flatten his tongue and lick stripes along your wet folds, hands moving to spread your lips out, you couldn’t stop looking at him. His nose rubbed against your bud of nerves, doing it on purpose as he saw your thighs shaking every time he did. Patrick wanted you to be on the edge and yet, not enough for you to cum. And it was sweet but torturous when he fucked your hole with his tongue.
He moaned at the taste of your pussy, the vibrations making you moan and curse at him.
Something tightened in your belly as he went back to sucking on your clit, and you squirmed; but when you felt the sweet deliverance of your orgasm… It was gone.
Patrick moved his head away from between your thighs, smirking and proud of himself. You tugged on his hair, eyebrows furrowed and anger on your face. “What the fuck? What are you doing? Go back to it.” You told him.
But he could care less about how you felt as he stood up from the floor; licking his lips to taste you again. His chin and nose were glistening with your juices; it was obscene and perverted but it made you clench. “Didn't know your pussy tasted that good.”
Before you could do anything, his lips were on yours; clashing and violent. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he pushed it inside your mouth; hands pulling at your hips to bring you closer. His own hips rutted against your bare thigh, making you feel his hard cock under the fabric of his skinny jeans once more.
Your hands moved to undo his button and he groaned.
Your fingers were cold as they snaked inside the fabric of his boxers, Patrick gasped and pulled away from the kiss. “Fuck, you going to jerk me off? Not sure if your tiny hand is going to handle my big cock.” He said, a tone filled with cockiness.
You didn’t reply as your fingers found him, hard, tall and proud. You scratched your nails against the bush at the base of his hardness, before grabbing him.
His hips thrusted forward as a reflex; but you didn’t move. Your eyes lifted up to look at him and at that moment, the dominance shifted back to you. It didn’t matter that he had eaten you out a few seconds ago, or that you imagined his fat cock inside your pussy, pounding you for hours.
No, what mattered was the fact that you could play with him if you wanted to. Like he knew it was going to happen and still let it.
“Want me to move my hand, loser? Want me to jerk you off?” You asked him and he smirked, not backing down from whatever you were doing now. Like it was actually making him harder — because you felt his cock pulsating inside your hand. He was warm.
“Are you going to be nice or does the stinky loser that I am have to beg? Don't be a bitch now.” He replied.
You could tell him to beg, to whine for you and get on his knees. You could leave him in the bathroom all alone while finding someone else to fuck you. Because Patrick Zweig didn’t matter; his cock did. And fuck, you wanted it.
So the bathroom fell silent and you moved your hand around his cock; slowly and torturously sweet. Patrick maybe expected something else; since he gasped and his face fell into your neck. You could feel his warm breath on your skin as you explored every millimeter of his cock — the veins all along, the sticky tip, the bushy base. It was heavy in your hand, and only waited to be played with.
Your hand moved; raw, but Patrick didn’t seem to care. His hips thrusted along every movement of your hand, pathetic and needy and he whined into your neck.
You almost wanted to call him out on it, telling him how much of a loser he was at that moment but you decided to give him the pleasure of shutting up. After all, you weren’t going to let him cum either – and he probably knew that.
But Patrick was the one to decide he had gotten enough as he pulled away, your hand leaving the warmth of his boxers. “Fuck, okay – can’t wait anymore. Need to be inside you.” He spoke before his hands grabbed your hips and turned you around, front against the bathroom door.
You gasped but bit on your lips, the anticipation was too good to care about how he’d fuck you.
Behind you, Patrick was struggling with the condom, cursing and hands shaking with how aroused he was. The lack of actions made you roll your eyes, turning your head to look past your shoulder. “What are you fucking doing? You need a degree to put a condom on, loser?”
The words made him chuckle, before he looked up. “M’too excited to fuck the Regina George wannabe of campus.”
Your lips parted to curse at him again but instead, you gasped at the feeling of his latex-covered tip pushing inside your hole; the burning sensation and the stretching made you clench immediately; which made Patrick curse in your nape. “Fuck, just… gonna cum if you do this.”
His own words made him chuckle and you relaxed your muscles. His length pushed deeper inside you, and your hands – palms flat – moved to the door to keep yourself standing. Soon enough, he was buried to the base.
“You sure you ain’t a virgin? You're tight as hell.” Patrick whispered into your ear, the mocking tone of his voice made you sneer at him. How dare he mock you? Him? “I fucked more people in my life than you’ll ever do in yours, fucker.” You replied, thrusting your hips backwards to hit his, making him moan at the feeling of your pussy envelopping his cock.
“Ouch, meanie.” He replied, hands moving to hold your waist so you wouldn’t move and you shifted your feet to open your legs wider. Patrick took this as an invitation to move, so he did. The first thrust made you gasp, face against the bathroom door so he wouldn’t see how good he made you feel. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
After that, he kept moving; slowly and torturous, to see which pace made you feel good – or probably he only cared about his pleasure, you didn’t know.
But his cock rubbed your gummy walls the perfect way, he even angled his hips to search for that special spot inside your pussy that would make you see stars.
However, when you thought he’d only fuck you with that half-assed slow pace, Patrick’s hips started to build a faster speed. His cock slipped in and out of your wetness in a loud pop that competed against the loud music of the party and made you bite down on your lips to not moan out.
“Fuck, Zweig…” Were the only words that escaped your lips and that was probably enough for him as he speeded even more.
His hands lowered to your bare hips to grab them strongly, his fingers digging into the fat there; and he pulled at them with every thrust. His cock buried itself inside your warm pussy like it belonged there. Patrick groaned, “Fuck, that’s probably the best pussy I’ve ever had…”
And for once, you didn’t have a remark to bite back at him, and simply moaned. His hips slapped against your ass, creating skin to skin noises.
You couldn’t help yourself but thrust back against him, his tip hitting deeper each time you did – letting moans and whines escape your mouth. One of your hands snaked between your body and the bathroom door just for your fingers to circle your sensitive clit.
Patrick’s face leaned into your nap and his warm breath hit your skin as he kissed it. You groaned at the feeling, your fingers sliding against your wet buddle of nerves. “Faster, fuck.” You begged.
You thought Patrick would perhaps mock you for the tone of your voice, slow down but he did none, his hips simply started slamming against yours as he groaned. “Fuck, you want my cock that bad? Wanna cum on it? You're such a whore.” He teased, hands pulling on your hips to use your body as his toy.
He angled himself to slam deeper inside you, finding that gummy spot as he did so. You gasped loudly, your legs trembling as he kept assaulting that location; and you imagined the smug look on his stupid face. Your nipples brushed against the bathroom door, rendering them more sensitive.
Your free hand moved behind to grab his bicep to support yourself up as he kept slamming his fat cock inside your pussy. You moaned loudly, sure that no one would hear you over the music outside of the piece; your eyebrows long furrowed to the pleasure you felt coursing through your body.
Patrick’s hands moved from your hips to set on your shoulders as he pounded your g-spot without any shame. “Sweet fucking pussy, I’ve been jerking off thinking about your hole for weeks.” He grunted into your ear as your fingers swiped onto your clit.
You felt a coil tightening inside your lower belly and moaned, the noise more throaty than the ones that had escaped your mouth before. “M’gonna cum, Patrick! Fuck, don’t stop!” Your fingers started to rub faster onto your clit, your legs shaking as Patrick’s tip hit that gummy spot at the entrance of your hole again.
His hands moved to your ass cheeks to spread them wide, making himself able to hit deeper inside your pussy.
Your walls clenched around his hardness as your orgasm hit you, your eyes rolling up to the ceiling; the hand grabbing his bicep tightening its grip so you wouldn’t fall against the door. You were unable to speak for a second, white sparkles hitting your eyes with the force of the pleasure.
Patrick grunted at the warmth and tightening of you clenching onto his cock, his hips still thrusting forward as he reached his own orgasm with a loud moan against the skin of your nap.
“Fuck– fuck, m’coming, babe…” He buried himself deep inside your pussy as he came, his load filling the condom and for a second you surprised yourself thinking you would have liked him to fill you up. You grimaced at the petname but decided to keep it shut as a thank you for the nice fuck.
Labored breathing could be heard on the inside of the bathroom as you both seemed to realize what had happened. Patrick chuckled and you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, squirming so he’d pull out of your pussy.
“What are you laughing about, fucker?” You cursed as you felt the pop of his cock leaving your warmth, immediately feeling empty. Patrick shrugged as he took the full-semen condom off of his cock, tying it up and throwing it in the bin while you pushed your bra and top down on your chest again.
“Just remembered your words when you first met me. Something like I’ll never let you touch me, not even with a baton. And now you let me fuck that sweet pussy. I guess my cock does make you stupid, uh?”
You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes without replying; how would you say anything when he was kinda right? You bent over to pull your panties and uniform skirt up when a piece of tissue appeared in your vision.
“Here, you can clean yourself up.” You heard Patrick and tore the kleenex out of his hand to clean the inside of your thighs and your core before covering yourself in your clothes again.
“That was a mistake on my part, I got weak, that’s it. Don’t imagine anything, Zweig.” You scoffed at him, trying to maintain a reputation. You moved to face the mirror and smacked your lips together, acting like the lipgloss was still there.
You brushed your hair away from your shoulder, looking at him up and down before turning your back to him. “Nice, well… If your mistake could ride my cock next time, I’d love that.” He replied as you walked out of the bathroom, turning your head to grimace at him.
“Shut the fuck up, you loser. Go back to the party no one invited you to.” You heard him laugh at those words before he talked again. “You wanna go on a date or something?” Your eyebrows furrowed; and you scoffed, flipping him off before starting to walk away from the crime scene that was now the bathroom.
“Ask me again in ten years, loser!” And when you were far away enough, the reply was shouted at you.
