pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig
summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated
warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory
a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!
you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.
his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.
patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.
he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.
he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.
pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.
you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.
“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.
“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”
“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”
“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.
“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.
art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.
art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.
“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”
“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.
“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”
“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,
“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.
meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.
he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.
patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.
art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.
it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.
you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.
you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.
you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.
you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.
patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.
art nd patrick agreed to share you for one night ! | showering with your sweet boy, art after a match ! | taking innocent arts v-card he’s like a little puppy :( | dilf!art making you squirt, how cute ! | he loves filling his younger girlfriend up.
what happens when you sneak patrick into your room ! | filling both your needy holes | now he knows you weren’t lying when you said you were flexible ! | a thank you for letting him stay at your place for the night, no hotels! | oh, he knows you can take him and art. |
tashi making you a pathetic mess :( | what a meanie ! | she loves her girls ass. |
♡ WEST SIDE STORY ! | contains : size kink. sub!riff + dom!riff
riff lorton loves pounding into his babydoll girlfriend. ! | when you wear your expensive lingerie ! | he loves fucking his pillow princess. | only shows this side for you | forbidden but has to be done! who cares if you’re bernardos sister ?
♡ THE PITT ! | contains : age gap. size kink
Robby loves his younger gf :( | oh, robby loves waking you up like this. |
summary: you and patrick go to a party post-argument, but you can't help but still want to be in his company, no matter how angry you both are
wc: 2.5k+
cw: explicit, a little toxic, smutty
The party is already at full blast when you finally spot Patrick across the room. The second your eyes meet, you avert your gaze from him, rolling your shoulders back and tuning in on your conversation again. But your boyfriend beelines straight towards you, ignoring the three people you’re speaking to and yanking you towards him by the hand he curls around your waist. He only moves you back by a few inches but it’s enough to get your attention on him.
He’s still clearly angry from the argument you’d had before you left, but you are too, glaring at him for the rude intrusion. However, despite the clear tension between you, his free hand comes up to your face, pinching your cheeks together and guiding your head towards him. “Give me a kiss.” Patrick demands, his face close to yours. You huff just to let him know you’re still not happy with him, but push yourself up to reach his lips with yours in a short kiss.
When you pull away though, Patrick doesn’t look satisfied. “You call that a kiss?” No. Normally you wouldn’t, but given the circumstances, you don’t think your boyfriend deserves anything more. You push Patrick away from you by the chest, but he tries keeping you close to him by his firm hold on your waist. “Don’t ruin my night Patrick, go annoy your friends instead.”
Patrick chuckles angrily, but he lets go of you, already making his way away from you to find himself something to drink. But as he walks away, you feel a pang to your chest and call out “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He replies, with an equally annoyed tone. You spin around to face your friends again, placing both hands on your hips, but they continue the conversation as though none of them witnessed your little moment with your boyfriend. It is unfortunate though — this little argument that you and Patrick had — because there’s nothing you’d like to do more right now than dance with him, bodies pressed right up together in the crowd of sweaty bodies.
You can’t help yourself but be distracted from the conversation again, scanning the room to find the boyfriend you told to fuck off. His familiar curly hair catches your eye just as he goes through the door to the backyard, inevitably finding his friends for a smoke. You’re hit with the sudden urge to follow him and pull him back for the longer kiss he asked for, but you don’t want to give in. After all, you’re still mad at him for the insecure little stunt he pulled earlier.
“Let’s go play some beer pong!” Your friend Alice says loudly, dragging you with her towards the door Patrick just exited from. You nod along, bunching up some of your dress’ fabric at the waist so the skirt becomes shorter. She leads you to the beer pong table, where a group is just finishing up their own game, and you look around to make sure your two friends have followed you. You frown when you see they haven’t, but shrug when Alice insists that you can play 1v1, ignoring the chill that climbs up your spine at the cool weather. Securing your little purse on your shoulder, you force yourself not to look around for Patrick and focus on your own activities.
Alice fills some unused plastic cups with disgusting beer from an ice bucket beside the ping pong table, and you collect a couple of balls for you to play with. It’s only a few turns later that you’re reminded why you never play this game, nearly gagging as you chug down a cup of beer. Alice laughs at your frown, only becoming louder when you announce “I can’t drink this beer. Can I just play and have someone else drink?”
“I can drink for you if you’d like.” Someone to your left declares, and you smile uncomfortably as a tall man approaches you. You shake your head quickly, suddenly looking for your boyfriend in the vast garden. When your eyes land on him, the man next to you is reaching out to you, a hand reaching for your waist. You take a step away from him, watching as Patrick puts out his cigarette in an ash tray before looking around for the pair of eyes he can feel on him.
“Patrick!” You call out, taking another step away from the man and into Patrick’s direction. Your boyfriend’s head snaps towards you and he’s immediately heading towards you, jaw clenched at the sight of the man next to you. “Yeah baby?” He calls out as he gets closer, hands immediately snaking around your waist. Yes, he’s still mad, and yes, you’re still going to act bratty, but you’ve called his name and so he will be there.
“Will you drink for me? It’s just one beer in all these cups.”
Patrick stares deeply into your eyes, one hand curling behind your neck and caressing the skin with his thumb. You can’t make out what he’s feeling or what his reaction will be, but you know well enough that Patrick is the most stubborn person you know and he might reject your offer just to make a point. But he only leans his face down to hover just above yours, whispering assertively. “One condition. You give me a proper kiss.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes, but cup Patrick’s cheeks nonetheless, pulling his face down onto yours so you can slam your lips against his. Patrick immediately groans into the kiss, tilting his head to the side and pushing you closer to him with the hand on the nape of your neck. It forces you to part your lips and let your boyfriend’s tongue slide into your mouth, greedily licking against your tongue. You whine, hands dragging down Patrick’s body to ease him away from you by his chest. He’s kinder to you this time, letting you break the kiss, an arrogant smirk on his lips when he sees the dazed look in your eyes, lip liner smudged on the edge of your lips.
He softly slaps your backside, nodding towards the ping pong table. Alice has found a man of her own to flirt with, and you recognise him as her short term situationship you don’t approve of. Patrick settles himself behind you as you grab a ping pong ball, both hands making home on your hips. You lean forward, pushing your ass back into Patrick as you aim for a plastic cup across from you. The ball lands with a quiet splash into the beer filled cup and you hop up in accomplishment as Alice hands her man the beer.
Patrick’s hands momentarily leave your hips to pull the skirt of your dress down. You glance behind you, making brief eye contact with your boyfriend whose face doesn’t tell you anything about how he’s feeling.
“Are you okay?” Patrick eyes your lips before continuing down your body instead of answering your question. He squeezes your hips once, then says “I think we need to get you a drink.”
Patrick doesn’t wait for a single response from you before he’s guiding you away from the table and into the house again. Weirdly enough though, he doesn’t stop by the drinks table, instead continuing to guide you deeper into the house and up a staircase.
“Patrick-” You gasp, looking around to see if anyone is catching you sneaking away. He opens a door to the first bedroom he finds, yanking you inside and immediately locking it behind you. Patrick pushes you against the door, slamming his lips against yours. He flattens his body against yours, letting you feel every bump and ridge of his muscle and flesh. His hands grope at your body and the fat of your ass, slipping under the skirt of your dress and fondling you desperately as he greedily kisses you.
He breaks the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting your lips. “Call me all those names again.” He asks roughly. You think back to your argument and the way you had called him a jerk and an asshole for trying to say you couldn’t go out in this dress because it was too revealing, then pathetic because he didn’t want other men seeing you dressed like this.
“Pat-”
“Did you hear me wrong?”
Your breath hitches in your throat at the question, and you shake your head slowly, scared to say or do something wrong. Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows up expectantly, one hand moving to rest on your stomach, pushing slightly to keep your back flush against the door. “You’re a fucking jerk, Patrick. And- and you’re an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”
Patrick lets out a low laugh, then harshly tugs you off the door and brings you to the undone bed in the corner of the room, pushing you to lay down flat on your back whilst he gets on his knees on the edge of the bed, hovering over you. “Call me these names for not wanting other men to look at you like fucking weirdos, and then you call me to rescue you when they do.”
You can’t help but clench your thighs at the dominating tone of his voice, and of course he catches the movement, laughing at you cruelly. His fingers slip beneath your dress, hooking in the band of your underwear and yanking them down aggressively. A loud tear echoes in the room and you release a shaky breath as Patrick discards the underwear aside. His hand presses down on your cunt, thumb exploring how wet you are before slipping between your folds and pressing against your clit. You whimper, hand reaching out to clasp around your boyfriend’s wrist.
“Remove your hand.” He orders, but you call his name once in protest. “Don’t be a fucking brat, take off your hand.”
You let go of his wrist but still unhappy, add: “See? You are a fucking asshole.”
Patrick’s eyes light up with a familiar flame, and you know you’re in trouble. Patrick jerks your legs apart and immediately brings a hand down to smack you right between them, causing you to cry out loudly. “You know, I was gonna be nice to you. Tease a little bit, but I was still planning on making you cum. Don’t know if you deserve that so much now.”
“No, Patrick, please.”
“Please what, huh?” He asks, sliding his fingers down your slit and into your awaiting hole. You don’t answer, back arching against the mattress at the sudden movement and moaning breathily. Patrick smirks to himself, free hand trailing up your body to snake under the revealing top of your dress and pinching your nipple. You squeak, head snapping to meet Patrick’s eyes as you desperately grip onto his forearm, nails digging into his hairy skin.
“You gonna listen to me or not? I said please what? What do you want?” He curls his fingers inside you as he pumps them, grinning widely at the wetness that coats his hand with every movement he makes. You blink quickly, mumbling “I want more Patrick, please.”
“I can’t believe you’re only learning your manners now. A bit late, don’t you think?” You desperately shake your head at Patrick’s question, but he chuckles. He leans over you, free hand resting next to your hand so he can keep balance while he presses his lips to yours in a slow, sensual kiss. His lips travel down your chin and neck before creating a trail of saliva up the side of your neck. “It’s a shame you look so good in this dress.” He whispers, voice thick with desire.
“But you just had to ruin it for the both of us, didn’t you? I was gonna fuck you so good.” You can’t help the noise you make at Patrick’s words, thighs squeezing around his hand as he bites a bruise onto the side of your neck. It makes you shiver, hands coming up to grip his shoulders. “You still can.” You mumble pleadingly, and Patrick separates from your neck to smile at you condescendingly.
He hums, slickly removing his hand from between your legs, and licks his lips before moving off the bed and kneeling in front of it. He raises a single eyebrow at you and you quickly shuffle down the bed until Patrick can comfortably wrap his arms around your thighs and yank you down so your cunt meets his lips. He makes eye contact with you the entire time his mouth is on you, licking and mouthing at you slowly and filthily as he makes out with your cunt. Your jaw is slack, sounds of pleasure flying out of your parted lips as his hands glide up your body to come up and fondle your tits. It doesn’t take much for them to fall out of the front of your dress and you can almost see Patrick’s pupils dilating at the entire sight in front of him. Your cunt throbs with pleasure, and even though Patrick knows what he’s doing now isn’t enough to make you cum, he pulls away.
“No, Patrick! Please, I promise- I promise I’ll be good.” Patrick gets up from his knees licking around his mouth. He looks disappointed, sticking a hand into his jeans to adjust his erection as for it not to be so obvious, then sighs, saying “And you taste good too.”
You huff in frustration, sitting up and making yourself modest again as tears well in your eyes, knowing Patrick won’t be so forgiving to you. He helps you up from the bed, grinning and wrapping his arms around you. He ducks his head down and presses a kiss to your lips, but you shove him away, crying out “You’re so mean, Patrick!” But your boyfriend, ever so used to this dynamic, only runs his hands up and down your waist, smirking as he mutters “Look, if you keep it together until we get home, I promise I’ll treat you like I planned to. But only if you say you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry.” Patrick laughs loudly at your instant apology, tucking you close to his side. “Really, Patrick, I am sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah, well we’re not exactly home yet, are we?”
And while Patrick isn’t expecting it in that moment, he’s not surprised that you end up dragging him to his car and dropping to your knees to show him just how sorry you are. His hand is strewn in your hair, tears and makeup running down your cheeks, wetness pooling between your thighs, and his cock is stuffed in your mouth. He’s unforgiving with his movements, hips thrusting up so he nudges himself farther down your throat every time, on the verge of cumming every time you swallow around him, licking up the underside of his cock.
And still, when he shoots ropes of cum down your throat and you come up to press kisses all over his face, mumbling how sorry you are, he makes you get in the passenger seat and wait until you get home to fuck you in seven different positions over five different pieces of furniture.
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you’re a long time friend of Patrick’s (and through him Art). one night you decide to leave an anonymous suggestive voice message on his phone to fool around. what happens when he finds out it was you? (inspired by the Seinfeld episode “The Tape”).
a/n: this is so long but oh my god it has become a personal fave!!
w.c: 5.1k.
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: friends to lovers, mature content, jealous!patrick, angst, slowburn, mentions of alcohol / frat parties, suggestive/erotic dialogue, comedy, gif and separater credits to rightful owner.
Patrick had been your friend for over 7 years now. You had met when you were in middle school and had developed an immediate crush on him but had never dared act upon it. Patrick, the well-known manwhore, had fortunately (or unfortunately) never tried something with you either. After a few years of suffering like a lovesick puppy and distancing yourself, a series of shared pranks, laughs and memories made you embrace your friendship instead of chasing the impossible.
Patrick was now on tour, miserably playing tennis while you spent your days and months in Stanford. When you learned Art was also there, the two of you unavoidably started hanging together, for lunch breaks, frat parties and you even came to his matches.
Every now and then, when Patrick came to visit, you’d spend time with the two of them, your heart unmistakably skipping beats each time Patrick sat too close, or got too tactile, wishing you could have him all to yourself despite burying your feelings from years ago.
You were therefore very excited when he told you he was coming tomorrow to stay for a whole week on campus with Art and you! On the day he arrived, a frat party was held near campus so Art invited both you and Patrick there.
You got all dolled up, wearing your favorite party outfit which included a pretty good amount of cleavage that still left much to the imagination. Art had texted you the address and told you he’d be there already, with Patrick. The familiar name lit up on your phone screen brighter than the rest of the text, like it was the sole reason your feelings resurfaced a little. All in all though, you were happy to see your friend again.
After greeting some people here and there, you walked further inside the house, looking for the curly haired young man but instead you saw a familiar strawberry blonde walk up to you.
“Art!” your face lit up, trying to be loud enough to be heard over the music.
Somewhere behind him, Patrick’s eyebrows shot up at your voice, reckognizing you instantly, although you couldn’t see him yet. Art gave you a short friendly hug before giving you your drink — how sweet, you thought. He remembered your favorite drink.
“How’re you?” he asked casually, hovering somewhere between your right ear and neck.
“Great! Where’s our joke of a friend?” you joked, eyes scanning the crowd.
“Right here, baby”.
You jumped at how close the voice was. Patrick had crawled up right behind you, his hand hovering near the small of your back, his lips near your left ear. You turned around and jumped into his open arms, his grin warmer than you’d remembered, his eyes sparkling with joy and something that edged towards tenderness.
He hugged you back as strongly as he could without breaking your ribs, nestling his face in the crook of your neck and enjoying the familiar scent. That’s when he realized he had missed you… a lot more than he’d thought.
When you pulled away, a wide smile was plastered on his face, his eyes scanning your entire figure before stopping for half a second too long on your cleavage then back up to your face.
“How’s tour?” you asked enthusiastically.
“Ugh, don’t mention it” his grin faltered before he pointed at you with curious eyes. “You’ve changed a little” he observed, eyes still scanning your face and body.
“Have I?” your eyebrows shot up. “You just haven’t seen me in a while… See how that messes with your memory?” you rustled his hair a little.
No, his memory was intact, in fact, because he’d been thinking about you a lot. But you had changed. You seemed more… womanly. He didn’t mention it though, and the three of you fell into easy conversation.
“I hope this little brat hasn’t been taking too much of your attention?” Patrick put his arm around Art’s shoulders, looking between the two of you. He hadn’t missed the way Art had hugged you when you came here.
“Not so much, I’ve been seeing his matches though” you chimed, taking a sip of your drink under their scrutiny.
“Is he destroying ‘em all?” Patrick’s eyes turned to Art, mischievous.
“Yes he is” you immediately answered, nodding your head proudly.
Something in Patrick’s stomach dropped but he was too happy to see the two of you again to take notice and wonder why.
An hour and a half later, the alcohol in your system had rendered you braver than you’d ever felt before and also a tiny little bit too flirty. You had lost Patrick and Art somewhere in the crowd when you got carried away by one of your girl friends to gossip on some of the frat boys. That’s when Alicia, one of your friends, told you an anecdote about a prank call made in one of her favorite TV shows. You listened intently, the gears in your mind already turning at an alarming pace as a surge of adrenaline coursed through you.
“Wait, girls… I wanna do this” you suddenly said, smile wide, eyes fixated on your friends.
“How do you mean?” Alicia smiled back, suspicious.
“Give me your phone!”
She gave you another suspicious look before she handed you her phone. You grabbed your own phone, looking for Patrick’s number and dialed his number before calling on private, thanks to a little trick you’d learned in your early childhood.
No way he could find the number. And even if he did, it wouldn't be yours.
You moved to a quieter corner of the house with two of your friends who looked at you expectantly, giggling already although you hadn’t peeped a word yet.
Obviously, he didn’t pick up. He was probably somewhere drinking with Art. Or hooking up with a girl, but you convinced yourself he wouldn’t do that tonight, for some reason.
It went to voicemail.
You ditched your high-pitched enthusiastic voice for your best sultry, sexiest whispery voice. It also helped that you felt a tiny bit… excited yourself, tonight.
“Oh Patrick… why do you go on breaking my heart like this?” you said slowly, in a whisper.
Would it be taking it too far if you moaned a little? Before you could stop yourself the dirty sound escaped your lips before you bit them to stop yourself from laughing.
Your friends giggled and you shushed them with your hands, trying to keep your act together.
“I just want to wrap my legs around you while you tear my clothes apart… and then slide my tongue-“
You got cut by a small group of friends who walked by you and accidentally bumped your shoulder. You immediately hung up, your laugh catching up to your lips before you could stop it as your friends burst out laughing too.
“My god I almost got horny myself!” said Alicia, taking her phone back while you caught your breath.
“Shit, me too, girl” you admitted between laughs.
Eventually Patrick and Art found their way back to you. You were dancing with no one in particular, letting yourself move with the music, feeling happy that you were surrounded by people you loved. Patrick and Art watched you dance, as if in a trance, forgetting their cups in their hands.
Patrick’s mouth fell slightly open when you twirled and lowered down before quickly moving back up in rhythm. The guy who'd been hovering around you stepped closer, trying to match your moves, a smug expression on his face. You didn’t take notice but when he started talking to you, Patrick’s jaw clenched and he immediately stepped in between.
He called your name. Loud, demanding, yet friendly.
Your head immediately snapped up to meet his eyes, and you forgot all about the voice note, the prank, the laughs. His green eyes were so pretty and you could almost make out the freckles on his face, even in the dark.
You knew them by heart.
“We should probably head back, wanna sleep enough to spend the next few days with you guys” he said, softly grabbing your wrist, a clear message sent to the other guy who moved swiftly away, disappointed.
“Yeah you’re right, I’m tired anyways” you agreed, moving away as he led you through the crowd, his grip both firm and soft. You lingered in his touch, committing it to memory, your eyes almost closing of themselves in the warmth of the moment.
The music faded away slowly as the three of you stepped out of the house in the cold breeze. Patrick gave you his jumper, his warmth immediately settling and seeping into your very bones as Art observed you.
“My god you’re wasted, young lady, aren’t you?” he said with a small smile.
“Hmm… maybe” you shrugged before booping his nose with your index.
He chuckled, a little startled by how beautiful you looked in the night.
“Ok, let’s get you to sleep” Patrick interrupted, rolling his eyes fondly.
You hardly remember how or at what time you made it to your bed. But you woke up with a headache the next morning, grateful that it was not a lecture day.
You glanced at your phone. Art had texted you five minutes ago telling you to meet the two of them at the cafeteria for breakfast. You took a quick shower, put on a tank top, track pants, and brushed your hair quickly before joining them.
They sat by the windows, on counter stools. When Patrick saw you approach, he inched the nearby stool closer with his foot, inviting you to take a seat next to him.
The three of you talked for a few minutes as you ate breakfast until Patrick took his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. Your eyes grew wide, and you stopped chewing in your food as you recalled last night’s events… and the voice note.
Shit.
Why did it seem like such a good idea yesterday night?
“Oh shit I got a voice note I didn’t notice” Patrick said as he brought his phone up to his ear.
You couldn’t think of a lie to stop him so you were bound to see the massacre unfold before your very eyes. You watched his eyebrows go from frowning to shooting up so high it was comical. You silently cursed yourself.
His parted lips turned into the familiar shit-eating grin you both loved and hated and he slowly turned to Art who raised his eyebrows in return.
“What?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Holy shit” Patrick laughed. “You’re never gonna believe this”
“What?” he repeated.
Patrick played the message again, scoffing.
“My god… I just got the filthiest voice note I’ve ever had in my life”.
He listened once more before finally handing the phone over to Art.
Art’s eyes widened in shock as he swiftly readjusted his legs on the stool. He played the message again and you couldn’t take it anymore.
“Alright guys, what the hell is that about?”
Patrick turned back at you like he had forgotten you were there.
“Y’don’t wanna hear that” he winked.
Ugh, you hated when he acted superior to you, like he was the adult and you were just a kid.
“Fine. I’ll see you guys around”.
You got up and left the cafeteria before you could think better of it. Patrick frowned, raising his hands in a questioning manner.
“What the hell’s wrong with her?” he mumbled.
“I don’t know but this… is crazy” he motioned to the phone in his hand as Patrick took it back.
Patrick’s eyes lingered on the exit of the cafeteria, still trying to understand before giving up and looking at his phone.
“I gotta find this girl” he chuckled, sucking in a breath before whistling. “She sounds hot…”.
“How the hell are you gonna find her, dumbass? She called on private number”.
Patrick focused as he listened to the message once more, a familiar warmth spreading in his lower stomach near his legs. If this is how he felt hearing her over the phone, he couldn’t imagine what effect she’d have in real life.
“Ok, she was at the party yesterday night. You can hear the music and the crowd a little…” he guessed, looking through the window without really looking, lost in the sound of her voice.
“You look like a pervert, Pat” said Art who’d noticed Patrick’s shift in demeanor. Although he couldn’t blame him… you’d had the same effect on him.
“Plus there were a lot of girls there..” trailed Art.
Patrick suddenly said your name. Art frowned.
“She must know who that is, right? I mean, she could?” wondered Patrick, hanging onto any hope.
“I-I mean, maybe, I don’t know. Thought you didn’t want her to hear that?”
“Fuck…” the brunette sighed.
After you’d left the cafeteria, you’d run to Alicia’s dorm.
You told her what happened, how stupid you’d been to do this to your longtime crush friend, and imagined the worst.
“Should I just tell him the truth?” you bit your lips anxiously.
“I don’t know… do you think he’d let that slide? Wouldn’t he get mad?”
“Why should he?!” a surge of anger coursed through you when you recalled his condescending look at the cafeteria, before it was quickly replaced by worry. “Aw shit maybe…” you shrugged, distraught.
Your phone rang. You glanced at it. Patrick.
“Fuck.”
You picked up.
“Where’re you, goofball? Thought we were gonna spend the day together”.
“Yeah that was until you became an asshole” you tried to sound playful and not too anxious. You shared a look with Alicia.
“Aw, come on, come by Art’s dorm, we’ll play some tennis or do whatever”.
You sighed and accepted.
The afternoon went by quickly. The three of you played some tennis, and Patrick found it hard not to stare at your bare legs and white tennis dress. The sun faded in and out of the clouds, as the sound of the rackets hitting the ball echoed all around you. It felt like a moment out of space and time, Patrick taking any chance he could to put his hands on you (shoulders, waist) and redirect your hits. That’s also when it randomly hit him that you were totally his type, physically.
After that, the three of you walked around campus and went to a bar. The entire day would’ve been perfect had it not been for the constant nagging in your mind that you had pranked your own friend.
When Patrick went to the toilets, leaving you alone with Art at the bar, you decided now was your chance. Art’s right arm rested nonchalantly on the counter, his hand holding the back of his face, turned towards you, sitting on the stool.
“What was that voice note you guys were talking about this morning?” you asked, trying to sound casual.
“Some girl from yesterday’s party left a… sexy message on Pat’s phone” Art’s eyes bore into yours, unimpressed by the situation.
“How did she sound…?” you asked, locking eyes with him.
“Honestly?” he looked away for a while, and dear God, was he blushing? “Hot” he looked back at you.
“Hot like…” you cleared your throat and edged closer, while still sitting, so that he could hear you “like this, Art?”
The three words came out in a breathy tone, never heard from your lips.
The blonde’s entire demeanor switched immediately. He stood straighter, head leaving his palm, eyes wide, leaning imperceptibly closer to you.
“It- it was you?!” he whispered.
“Yes” you bit your lower lip and looked away. “Shit it was just a prank, now I don’t know what to do!” you confessed, whispering back.
He just stared at you, lips parted. You observed him and his bulge seemed a little bigger than normal but you were probably imagining things.
“Please don’t tell him anything for now” you begged, eyes wide.
You looked so damn good looking up at him like that and Art’s heart fluttered at the sight. He almost choked on air as he nodded a little, eyes still glassy, before staring at something behind you.
Patrick was back. The two of you immediately leaned away from one another, looking at Patrick casually. His eyebrows furrowed but he smiled, looking between the two of you. If he was suspicious of anything, he didn’t mention it.
The rest of the evening went by without any incident although you’d sometimes catch the strawberry blonde staring at you longer than he used to. Patrick sensed some unease between the two of you and his stomach twisted at the thought that he had interrupted something when he’d come back from his little break.
What if the two of you had gotten closer while he was away? He should’ve been happy about it but somehow…
That night, Patrick tried to distract himself by replaying the voice note before his shower, wishing the excitement it generated in him would take a greater space in his mind than you did. And it worked… until he released himself and was back to thinking about how close you and Art had looked.
The next morning, you cursed yourself when your small walk around campus led you to the tennis courts. You had only meant to stroll mindlessly, trying to forget about the darn voice note and now you could see Patrick and Art playing against one another in the distance.
Art was the first one to spot you, immediately forgetting about the match and stopping mid-run to wave at you, squaring his shoulders up and running a hand through his hair. Patrick thought his best friend had seen a crush the way his behavior changed but when he turned and recognized your silhouette in the distance, the adrenaline of the game took a sour taste.
“Did you find anything new about the voice note, by the way?” asked Art to Patrick, before you could be close enough to hear their conversation.
“Nah…” shrugged Patrick, mindlessly hitting a ball with his racket.
Patrick could’ve sworn Art’s lips twitched. His eyes didn’t leave his best friend’s figure until you were sitting in the sidelines motioning for them to keep playing.
This time around, when they played, something shifted. They were serious, relentless in their coups, their voices shouting occasionally to the force of their attack. It wasn’t long before they were drenched in sweat and your mind couldn’t register how hot watching them play like this was. It was like they were fighting. For what, for who… you didn’t know.
By the time they were done, Patrick had won (very close call) and you clapped cheerfully for the two of them. Patrick cockily bowed before you while Art simply stared intensely at you, biting the inside of his cheek. The way the two of them stared at you felt different, especially for Art. You had never been the receiver of such intensity in their eyes, words and gestures. Little did you know their moves were fueled by a silent competition.
You couldn’t further analyze their behavior as you had to leave for a class so you promptly stood up and joined them on the court.
“Alright boys, think you can handle a few hours without me?” you tried to joke, but your voice didn’t ring true to your ears.
“Yeah pretty much” said Patrick, looking you up and down unashamedly. Truthfully he’d always done that so you didn't take too much notice.
However Art’s silence was entirely new. He would usually offer up to walk you around campus or playfully nudge you when you crossed paths. But ever since yesterday night, he seemed off.
You just waved at him timidly, and he waved back. His small smile tugged oddly at your heart. Maybe it was the way his eyes never left yours, or the way his entire body seemed relaxed and yet his jaw tensed and his eyes communicated such intensity… or, maybe, you were just going crazy.
The minute you were far away enough from them, Patrick turned to Art, shoulders squared.
“Spit it out, you guys fucked or something?”
Art was so taken aback by his friend’s words he physically stepped back.
“What the fuck, man?” his tone was calm but surprised.
“I’m not blind, Art. Since yesterday you guys have been acting fucking weird. I feel like I’m interrupting something every time I catch you two.”
Patrick’s eyes were unwavering on his best friend’s figure. He didn’t sound mad but there was a hint of hurt in his voice. Art tried to hold his friend’s gaze… until he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.
“It’s not that, Patrick” he finally stated.
“Then what the fuck is it?” Patrick asked, anger bubbling up. He wasn't angry at Art. He was angry that he felt afraid of what could be going on between his two closest friends.
“It’s… I promised I wouldn’t say anything…” Art finally looked back at the brunette.
“Promised her what? What for? Did something happen? You guys have secrets now?”
His anger turned into jealousy quicker than he’d ever admit.
“No, Pat… I-“
“Spit it out Donaldson!”
“Look all I’m saying is that you always take the things and people around you for granted and you shouldn’t expect everybody to make the same mistake”.
Complete silence. The subtext of Art’s threat hung in the air between the two best friends. Patrick’s chest heaved, burdened by the things unsaid and a distinct fear that this threat might be about you.
“I never took her for granted” said Patrick, voice small and breaking.
“Yeah, alright”.
Art left. Patrick watched the blonde walk away, his tennis bag loosely hanging from his shoulder, back tense.
How did they go from playing some friendly tennis to straight up fighting?
You stepped out of your last class of the day, reaching for your phone to text Patrick and ask him where to meet up, only to find him already waiting for you outside of your class. Patrick noticed you were wearing the jumper he gave you on the night of the frat party.
The brunette looked miserable, jaw clenching, eyes darker than you were accustomed to seeing them. You stepped closer until you were at arms’ length and he immediately started walking.
“Where’s Art?” you asked, scrutinizing his hunched back and dark curls. His hair was starting to grow long.
“Why, y’miss him already?”
“Wow, ok. What the fuck, Pat?” you raised your voice a little, taken aback by his anger.
He didn’t answer. You caught up to him and reached for his arm. He let you grab his arm but his eyes were still hard, his frown deep.
“You have secrets with Art, now?” he finally spat.
“What-“ you started before you recalled.
The voice note. The prank. Fuck.
“No, it’s not like that” you sighed.
“Then what is it? Because clearly there is something you’re not telling me”.
“Just- come on”.
You grabbed his arm and led him up the stairs to your dorm. Luckily for you, Alicia had classes until late today so she wouldn’t be in the dorm for a while. You closed the door behind you under Patrick’s confused eyes, got rid of your bag and sat on your desk chair.
“There’s something I need to tell you”.
Patrick sat on your bed, facing you, heart racing. His curls were messy and you tucked the sudden urge to kiss his freckles away. The sun filtered through your bedroom window lit up your desk and yourself. Patrick thought you were a vision, the sun giving you a dreamlike edge he had seen in his own dreams before. You looked so good wearing his jumper, which looked awfully big on you.
Your own heart beat so hard you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. You played with your rings on your fingers as a way to distract yourself from Patrick’s unwavering attention.
You liked it when he looked at you like you were the only thing worthy of attention. You just didn’t like it when you were about to tell him the “filthiest voice note he’s ever received” was from you.
“It was me. The voice note. It was me, it was a joke, I’m sorry-” the more you admitted, the faster you spoke.
Patrick’s eyes grew wider and his body froze.
“I told Art because I didn’t know how to tell you, I didn’t mean to keep secrets from you, I don’t know what he said-“ you continued, trying to break through his frozen stance.
“It was you?” he repeated, all suspicions of you and Art being an item flying out of the window.
“Y-yes” you sighed.
“Oh my God” his face split into a grin, a relieved laugh escaping his lips as he stood up to reach for your face and kiss your forehead.
What the fuck?
“Why are you so relieved, I thought you’d hate me?” you mumbled, confused.
“Hate you? Nothing could make me hate you”.
The honesty in his voice surprised you. Your head snapped up at him, the proximity feeling suddenly intimate. If you so much as raised your hand you could touch him, grab his hand. And if you stood up from your chair, you would bump into him, close as he was.
“Shit that was you?” he repeated once more, disbelieving.
“Yeah is that so hard to believe?” you quipped back, growing vexed.
“I mean- Yeah, kinda”
“Yeah because you never saw me as a woman” you spat before you could stop yourself. “Look, Patrick, I really have to study for my upcoming test, so if you wouldn’t mind…”
You gestured towards the door, done with the stupid turn the conversation had taken. He looked between you and the door, dumbfounded. He tried to fight and talk you back into the conversation so you stood up, brought your hands to his back and started pushing him with all your might.
Jesus, since when was his back so wide and firm?
You could feel the muscles move beneath your palms, a great testimony to his athletic lifestyle and you ignored the warmth in your stomach at the thought of his naked back. Patrick, on the other hand, was too busy holding in his laughter, finding your reaction very cute instead of annoying.
“Will you stop?” he huffed between laughs.
Just before you could open the door, Patrick turned around and grabbed your wrists with a little more force than he had intended to.
You froze, your arms halfway up, head tilted up to stare at him. His hands felt huge and warm on your skin, and suddenly you wondered what they would feel like elsewhere on you. He leaned a lot closer, towering over you, his lips twitching into a smile he was trying very hard (and failing) to hold back.
He was about to say something but his eyes locked with yours and your voice in the note played in his head and he suddenly felt shy. Patrick Zweig, grade-A manwhore, was stuck in fight-or-flight when looking into a girl’s eyes. He recalled your words, your moan, and before he could stop himself, he kissed you hard and fast.
It was messy, sloppy, and filled with yearning.
It lasted a few seconds before he suddenly broke apart and asked you, voice hoarse:
“Did you mean it? What you said in the voice note?”
He seemed desperate, worried this was just a misunderstanding, worried he might ruin your friendship over a prank. But, God, you had awoken something in him, the revelation leaving him with no other choice than to face his feelings for you.
You nodded before forcing yourself to speak aloud:
“Absolutely”.
Patrick had never been so pathetic, never felt his knees so weak, at the sound of a voice. He was at your mercy, and finally saw you, truly saw you. He kissed you again.
“Say my name” he whispered between kisses. “Like you did in the voice note” he huffed.
Your voice came out needy and even more sensual than it was over the phone. You felt Patrick’s bulge against you as he moved his hands down from your arms to your legs, leaving a burning sensation across your skin that begged to be touched more.
You almost moaned in gratitude when he got rid of your clothes, as you wrapped your legs around him, the voice note you had left turning into a self fulfilling prophecy.
His movements turned softer and slower, but his voice came out raspy, his kisses still needy as he admired your entire body before fully embracing you.
Both you and Patrick would be lying if you said this wasn’t the best sex you’d ever had. Hearing you say his name, breathing in his neck, looking up at him sent him over the edge sooner than he’d have liked. But he certainly made sure you were also satisfied, which truthfully you had been from the moment his lips had crashed with yours.
When you were done, lying in your bed, limbs intertwined, breathing peacefully, it felt as though a burden had been lifted from both your shoulders.
Your face was burried in the crook of his neck, basking in his scent, while his fingers circled soothing figures on your arms and chest, eyes glued to your face.
Now that it was all over, the worries came flooding in. What would become of you two? Was this the result of the prank or was it the inevitable outcome of years of buried feelings? Did he even feel the same way? Were you two together now? You’d never seen Patrick commit to anyone before. Were you just another girl who ended up falling for him?
Patrick’s hand came up to caress your cheek and it was enough to quiet your mind. Your eyes looked up at him and something both painful and incredible tugged at his heart. Could you be his? Was he worthy of you?
“I can’t believe I was blind this whole time” he finally said, voice hoarse and low.
It sent butterflies flying into your lower abdomen.
“I can’t believe you either” you managed to joke, an unconfident smile tugging at your lips.
His fingers grazed your lips, like he was trying to turn them upwards.
“I’m serious. I’m not letting you go. I love you”.
Your eyes felt suddenly wet but you hid it by kissing his neck, cheeks, freckles and lips. He returned your kiss but it was hesitant. He stopped kissing you back to stare at you, expectantly.
Your heart hammered in your chest. Of course you loved him. You were just so worried he just… said that to ease your worries.
“I love you. I always have. I was just too stubborn to admit it to myself” he said again, eyes unwavering.
“I love you too, Pat” you finally said, a cheerful smile splitting your face.
When he kissed you again, he wasn’t hesitant anymore. He claimed you, took pride in your presence, a joy he never thought he’d know settling within him.
Say Ah! ib: Say Ah by Trey Songz please listen while you read :) patrick zweig x art donaldson x fem!reader
cw: nsfw(18+), drunk sex, drug use, dirty talk, squirting, eiffel tower of sorts
girl it’s your birthday open wide i know you’re thirsty say ah
Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson were two very notable names at your very prestigious boarding school. Art’s parents were rich but they were new money. Art’s dad had created a startup tech way before Art was born and it became super successful.
Patrick’s parents though? They were old money. Like Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Carnegie type old money. No one even knows what his parents do but with amount of money they pay for boarding school tuition, no one really cared.
Art and Patrick were attached at the hip. It made sense though, they were roommates for years. Their families are friends now. They spend breaks and summers on trips to europe or the carribean. Between the Zweig’s chalet in Geneva, the Donaldson’s villa in the Bahamas, the Zweig’s chateau in Nice, and the Donaldson’s beachfront house in St.Kitts, they were spoiled for options.
There were rumors going around that they share girls. You weren’t 100% sure what that meant but you could use your imagination. There were other rumors that they were actually dating each other but you weren’t sure about that either.
Your paths hadn’t crossed much in the almost 6 years you guys have been here. But tonight your best friend insisted you guys go clubbing tonight for your birthday. You liked to party from time to time but you’d try not to go overboard. Emphasis on try. But you were a party girl at heart.
You put on the white shirt and a sequin mini skirt. You finish your makeup and throw on some heels.
“should we pregame?” You ask fiddling with your hair in the mirror.
“nah we won’t need to,” your friend, Liz, says as she finishes zipping up her thigh high boots.
You raise an eyebrow. You know it’s been a minute since you went out but you’re pretty sure pregaming is still the most cost effective way to get drunk.
She continues as she stand up, “we’re going to Patrick and Art’s section tonight at Ikon.”
Oh.
“oh um- i-i didn’t know, i’ve never partied with them before,” you’re unsure why you’re nervous. You’ve been clubbing a million times. And it’s just Patrick and Art, how intimidating could they be.
She shrugs, “i’ve been out with them a few times, they’re super nice. they just always order bottles so there’s no point in pregaming with cheap stuff.”
You nod and follow her out the door.
When you guys get inside the club is already pretty packed. Sweaty bodies and sticky floors. You hold onto you friend hand as she drags you through the club and upstairs. Weaving through the masses.
You’ve never been to Ikon before, you usually frequent Barcelo or Kapital more. But so far you were liking the vibes.
Once you guys get to their section, your friend steps over the velvet rope and you follow suit.
There’s a ridiculous amount of people from school here, mainly girls but a few guys as well. There were a few champagne buckets with ice on the table. In them, so many bottles. Clase Azul, Dom Perignon, Don Julio. Oh wow, Liz was not joking.
She greats them each with a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“lizzzzzz, lizzie, you made it i’m so happy you came,” Art says. He’s definitely a little tipsy.
“couldn’t let you host without inviting the life of the party and the birthday girl,” She says gesturing to herself and you.
Patrick smirks. He’s holding a bottle of 1942 in his hand. He takes a swig before he says, “and who is this birthday girl you’ve brought with you?”
You’re nervous again. Why are you nervous? Fuck. They’re just two rich white boys, you need to pull it together. You take a breath and say, “y/n”
Art smiles and claps his hand on Patrick’s shoulder, “have you taken a shot yet? c’mon pat give her a shot. it’s her birthday.”
Patrick is more than happy to oblige. He walks over to you, holding the neck of the bottle, “c’mon birthday girl, say ah.”
A shot is exactly what you need to loosen up. You tilt your head back, opening your mouth. You move your hand to cup right under your mouth as a safeguard for any spillage.
“there you go, uh uh no hands baby,” He says. The butterflies in your stomach going crazy after he says that. But you move your hands nonetheless. He pours some tequila into your mouth. His aim wasn’t perfect so a little does dribble down your neck. He leans down to whisper by your ear, “good girl.”
And just like that he’s gone.
The rest of the night is really fucking blurry. Art and Patrick were giving out shots like water. If you ever had an empty cup it was filled within minutes. If you were dancing so you hadn’t had a drink in a minute, Patrick of Art were there in seconds. They didn’t even have to tell you what to do anymore. You instinctively tilt your head back and open your mouth everytime they approach you with a bottle in their hand. Their excuse being “it’s your birthday, can’t let you go thirsty”
There’s a moment where you walk back to the table in the section that Patrick and Art are sitting at. They’ve got a few lines of coke on the table, Art going first. So Patrick is the first one that spots you and gestures for you to sit next to him.
“enjoying yourself birthday girl?” Patrick smirks. But before you have a chance to answer, Art is passing him the very tightly rolled $100 bill for Patrick to do his lines. So Art steps in to fill the conversation.
“hey having fun?” He smiles a big goofy smile. He’s actually kind of cute. And a decent contrast to more chill Patrick Zweig. But you haven’t really gotten to know them yet so you’ll hold back on the assumptions for now.
You nod slowly, fearful that too much head movement sitting down would make you dizzy, “so much fun, you guys are good hosts so that makes it better.”
Patrick sits back up and wipes his nose. He turns his head to look at you, “where are my manners? did you want?” He asks gesturing to the half empty tiny plastic baggy on the table.
You shake your head no laughing, “i tried it once and I just threw up all over the place so i’ll pass”
He nods in understanding. You notice he has his hand on Art’s thigh as he keeps talking to you, “good birthday so far?”
You nod smiling, “best birthday so far.”
“good i’m glad we could make that happen for you,” He says leaning into your personal space bubble. If you don’t know any better you’d think he’s trying to kiss you, there’s just one more question you want to ask first.
“you and Art seem pretty close,” You say, not creating any distance between the two of you. If anything you lean in closer. You keep eye contact with Patrick. You can see the gears turning in his head as he thinks of how he should answer that.
He smirks, he does that a lot you’ve noticed, “do you wanna see just how close we are?”
You nod biting your lip, but you’re not 100% sure if this is going where you think it’s going.
He sits back up turning his head to Art’s direction. He puts his hand on Art’s chin making Art face him, pulling Art away from whatever side conversation he was having. And he pulls him in for a kiss. It’s slow and sloppy, expected since they’re both kind of drunk at this point. Art kisses Patrick back with no hesitation, so they’ve done this before.
When Patrick pulls away from the kiss he turns back to you while Art goes back to his side conversation. A smirk plastered right back on his face, “does that answer your question?”
“so the rumors are true? you guys are together?”
Patrick laughs. He actually laughs so hard he throws his head back. When he finishes his laughing fit, he turns back to you to say, “fuck no I am not dating blondie, we just like to have fun.”
They just like to have fun. Have fun? So do they share girls? It’s another rumor you heard and it sounds like something someone who likes to have fun would do.
Before you can think on it anymore your body is spewing out the words, “so do you guys share girls?” No reference to the rumor at all, so it almost sounds like you’re asking for yourself.
Now that peaks Patrick’s interest. So maybe it is true? He leans down by your ear again to whisper, “do you want to find out?”
That’s how you end up in their dorm room at 3am.
Initially you didn’t want to leave your friend Liz behind but apparently she had already left with another which she sent you a text about an hour ago. Wow you really don’t check your phone when you’re drunk.
The three of you waste no time taking off your clothes. It’s been a minute since you’ve had sex with one person, let alone two.
You noticed they had pushed both their beds together, very interesting. Patrick and Art start making out on their bed, Patrick is lying down and Art is on top of him.
You’re not sure where you should jump in until Patrick grabs Art’s curls pushing his head down to come face to face with Patrick’s cock. Once Art starts sucking, Patrick gestures for you to straddle him.
You climb on top of him and he pulls you down for a kiss. It’s slow and sensual, like he’s trying to explore your mouth with his tongue.
Art pulls off Patrick’s dick and moves his focus to your pussy. Since it’s right in his face now, he can’t really resist. He lazily continues jerking Patrick off as he licks up the crease of your folds.
He licks up and down, making sure to go down far enough to lick at your clit too. The he comes back up to push his tongue inside of you.
“oh fuck,” You moan into Patrick’s mouth.
Patrick pulls away from the kiss biting your bottom lip, “make sure you’re getting her ready for us.” You assumed he was talking to Art and on cue Art stuck two fingers inside of you, making you gasp.
Patrick moves his hands so one is grabbing your ass while the other is cupping your breast, toying with your nipple.
You being moved into a different position but you can’t tell where Patrick body ends and Art’s body begins. You’re not sure whose hands are where but now you’re on your on your hands and knees with Art in front of your face and Patrick behind you.
You’re looking up at Art as he drags his tip against your lips, smearing his pre cum around.
“fuck, you’re really fucking pretty,” Art breathes out.
At the same time Patrick had already rolled on a condom and was teasing your entrance, “don’t get all sappy on me now donaldson. c’mon y/n say ah”
As soon as you hear the phrase you’ve gotten acquainted to over the course of the night, it’s like muscle memory and your mouth opens.
Art and Patrick pushing into you at the same time from opposite is a euphoric feeling you don’t think you’ll ever forget.
Patrick hands gripping your hips as he fucks into you. Art’s hands tangles in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. Patrick bruising your cervix, while Art bruises the back of your throat.
There are some differences between the two of them. Art is very whiny. He whines alot as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, mumbling over and over about how good you’re making him feel. While Patrick is more of a groan-er. He groans and moans as he fucks himself in and out of you, saying how well you’re taking his cock and what a good girl you are.
They went back and forth saying stuff like:
“holy fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”
“fuck, shit, love seeing your lips wrapped around my cock”
“taking my cock so well,” They both said that in unison at the same time. Kinda freaky. But it added to that pit in your stomach that was building towards your orgasm.
All you could do was moan around Art’s cock that was shoved down your throat. Art’s shoved your face towards his pelvis almost suffocating you and you’re not sure why at first, until you hear kissing?
They’re making out above you. At least you can check eiffel tower of some sorts off of your bucket list.
You can feel both of their thrusts start to stutter, they’re close. They pull away from their kiss and you hear Art say, “fuck baby I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna—.” You feel his release shoot deep down your throat before he pulls out. And you swallow it all down.
When Art cums you feel your orgasm rip through your body but it feels different, “im cumming—“ You moan as your body contracts and there’s a rush of liquid. Patrick pulls out halfway as you squirt all over his dick. “jesus fuck,” He moans.
He was already on the edge but your tight hole squeezing around his cock mixed with the visuals of you squirting on his cock pushed him over the edge, “shit im gonna cum—“ He releases inside you before he pulls out and ties off the condom.
Art had already fallen asleep on his side of the bed but you couldn’t really blame him because he was drunk.
You’re not sure if you should leave and try to sneak back into the girls dorms or if you should stay. Patrick comes back and hands you a rag so you can clean up.
“thanks,” You say with shy smile, unsure why you’re feeling like you’re sobering up a little.
He offers a soft smile, “you know you can stay if you want, i wouldn’t kick you out.”
You gesture to the soiled bedsheets on what you assume is Patrick’s side of the bed, “sorry about the mess, i can help you clean up.”
He lets out a small laugh, “don’t apologize that was fucking hot, you do that often?”
You offer a smirk this time, “wanna find out?”
You both have to carry Art’s passed out body onto the sofa while you guys change the sheets. When Art wakes up the next morning to find new sheets on his bed, Patrick ignores all his questions about it, insisting that “it’s better if y/n just shows you what happened.”
a/n: bonus points if you recognize the club names :)
tw: dubcon, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, rough sex, missionary, dacryphilia, evil patrick lowk
wc: 1.4k
Patrick Zweig, certified douchebag, walking ego, the kind of guy people love to hate.
He’s been stitched into your life for as long as you can remember, a constant presence from childhood scraped knees and shared secrets to late-night drives with the windows down, always there but never really looking at you, not until one unfair, universe-altering moment when you grew up and everything about you shifted into something he absolutely did not have permission to want.
One day you were just his friend, familiar and safe, and the next you were everywhere, in the way your voice lingered in his head when he was supposed to be sleeping, his hand slowly sliding into his boxers when his thoughts betrayed him late at night when the room was quiet and he had nothing to distract himself from the fact that his best friend had become devastatingly, inconveniently hot.
He hates that part of himself, the disloyalty of it, the way his mind drifts to you when it shouldn’t, when you’re off-limits, so he does what Patrick does best, he shoves it down, buries it under layers of arrogance and indifference, convinces himself it’s nothing more than a fleeting thought he can drown out with alcohol and noise and bodies that aren’t yours.
He ends up in random bars with random blonde girls hanging off his arm, their voices buzzing annoyingly in his ear while he nods along, empty-eyed, wishing desperately it was you sitting there instead, your laughter, your sharp comebacks, the easy smiles you gave him when you thought no more me was looking.
But Patrick would rather choke on his own pride than admit that, so he keeps the act up, keeps pretending he doesn’t care about anything or anyone, least of all you.
Until the night your boyfriend breaks up with you and you show up at his apartment, shattered and shaking, and the second he opens the door you break, collapsing into him like muscle memory, sobbing so hard your tears soak straight through his shirt.
Patrick doesn’t hesitate, he never does when it comes to you—his arms coming up instantly, holding you like it’s instinct, like it’s always been his job to catch you when you fall.
He feels awful for you, truly, but he also feels something dangerously close to hope because this, this closeness, has been missing for years, and now you’re pressed against him, practically in his lap, your lips swollen and trembling, your eyes red and glossy, your face tucked into the crook of his neck like it fits there perfectly.
He tells himself he’s just comforting you, just being the friend he’s always been, even as his hands move slowly, rubbing soothing circles into your back, sliding down to your hip, pulling you closer until your body is molded against his, grounding you, shielding you, letting you sink into him.
His touch lingers longer than necessary, warmer than it should be, but he justifies it easily, after all, his job is to make you feel better, to make the world feel less cruel for you in this moment, to help you forget about your idiotic ex… and if, for once, he lets himself pretend that you belong right here with him, just for tonight, well—he figures he’s earned that much.
Patrick keeps you close, one arm firm around your waist as your sniffles quiet, and when you mutter something about feeling stupid he pulls back just enough to look at you. “Hey—no,” he says, voice low. “Don’t do that.”
His thumb brushes under your eye, gentle despite himself. “Just forget about him. Look at me.” You do, and he scoffs softly. “That guy was a dickbag idiot who didn’t know what he had right in front of him.”
His hand tightens at your hip, grounding. “I would never treat you like that. Never make you feel small or disposable.” He leans his forehead against yours, quieter now. “You deserve better. You deserve someone who actually sees you.”
Patrick trails his hand over your jaw, tilting your head up to face him, his mouth inches away from yours. “Let me make you feel better, I know what you need.”
His hand slips under your shirt, fingertips gliding along your skin, his eyes looking into yours for permission. You were too overcome with emotion and internal turmoil to notice the sly look beneath his eyes. “Let me make you feel good, hm?” He murmurs in your ear, laying you back down against the couch.
Patrick's hands slide underneath your shirt, pushing it up and out of the way. His hazel eyes rake over your chest, his pupils dilating as he drinks in the sight.
He lets out a low, gravelly noise, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. "God, you're so pretty." he says, his voice rougher than normal. "And all mine."
Your voice cracks, your hands pressing against his chest to still him. “Just the tip? Please?”
A shiver runs down your spine as Patrick's warm breath brushes against your ear, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hands trail lower, to the waistband of your shorts. "Just the tip, baby." he repeats, his fingers teasing and taunting. "Promise."
His hands push your shorts down, tossing them haphazardly behind him. Patrick groans, his eyes rake over your body, his thumb lazily rubbing your clit over your panties as your hips buck.
Patrick lazily pulls his pajama pants down, just enough so he can free his aching cock from his boxers. He spits in his hand, stroking himself absentmindedly, thumb rubbing his tip. He spreads your thighs, making room between them so he can slot his body.
Patrick grins, rubbing his tip through your wet folds, spreading his pre-come all over, mixing your wetness with his. “I don’t have a condom,” he states, not even bothering to rummage through his drawers, “but don’t need one, right? it’s jus’ the tip.”
Patrick slides himself in, head tilting back and breath growing ragged as you clench around him. Fuck, he only had his tip in and you were so tight, so warm, how was he expected to just fuck you with the tip?
Patrick slides out, left hand gripping your hip to keep you still as he slides back in, only fucking you with tip. His right hand slides up your body, flicking and pinching your nipples to keep you distracted as he slowly slides in more and more.
He rolls his hips like he has no care in the world, easing more and more of himself into you. Patrick lets out a string of moans when he gives up and just snaps himself into you.
His eyes are hooded when he presses his chest against yours, breath hot when he murmurs in your ear, “Shit, sorry. Can’t help it, you’re—“ he grinds into you, “so warm, wet.”
Your mind, hazy in pleasure, not noticing when he fully sheathed himself into you. Your hands weakly pawed at his back, squirming beneath him. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you, his hazel eyes nearly black with lust.
His strokes are fast and hard, his hips slapping against your ass with each thrust. He leans forward, his hand reaching forward to grip your hair. "This is what you're really here for, isn’t it? Just wanted me to hold you when you cried about your sorry ex—“ he fucks you harder, “had to hide how hard I got when you started crying.”
"My pretty little girl." he growls, his thumb pressing against your clit. "Gonna fill you up like this every day. Make you come like this every day."
His thrusts become faster, more unhinged. He can feel his orgasm building, his breaths becoming shorter. Your orgasm creeps up on you, Patrick letting out grunts when he felt you clench around him. "You're so fucking tight. So perfect." he groans, his hips slapping against you with wild, hard thrusts.
You come, hard. Eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let out moan after moan. Patrick pulls himself out, stroking himself rapidly before spilling all over your stomach and chest, not stopping till he was pumped dry.
Patrick flops beside your body, his hair slick to his forehead and arm slung over your waist. Not even a minute later you hear his snores penetrate your ears. Patrick never was much for aftercare.
pairing: older, pornstar!patrick zweig (challengers) with gender neutral, younger, pornstar!reader.
0.9k / nsfw. patrick’s falling off, but you’re fresh on the scene. together, you could make real magic. cws: blatant nsfw imagery/mentions, porn industry depictions (though not too dark), age gap heavily implied but not clarified, & manipulative undertones. + masterlist.
✦ older pornstar!patrick who’s fallen off from relevancy. he still books gigs, still gets offers, but his manager’s already warning him that he’s being overtaken by young talent. no one’s really watching for older guys, anymore (“if you dressed in drag, you might bring in views as a milf,” his manager joked once. zweig didn’t laugh). it’s unfortunate, but people want youth. they want naivety and inexperience. they want to see it corrupted.
that’s where you come in.
✦ older pornstar!patrick who watched one video with you in it and decided you were his meal ticket. not that you were impressive, no— he’s seen bigger tits, a rounder butt, a better smile, and prettier eyes. you weren’t the hottest by a longshot. but you were fresh blood. young. and you had a certain hunger that couldn’t be replicated. not to mention how human you were. none of the fake, high pitched bitching he’d unfortunately grown used to over the years, no, you were real. as close to real as possible, at least, while filming amateur porn for twitter.
✦ older pornstar!patrick who got your attention when he promised lots of money (if the video did well) and a better set with real equipment (your videos all look like they were filmed on a nokia or something). he promises that it’s only oral, that he’ll just lay back and let you work on him. he swears he won’t pull your hair, either.
✦ older pornstar!patrick who sends you pictures of himself. then he sends close ups of his dick— he’s girthy, a bit longer than what you’re used to, but he’s clean cut. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested in fucking an actual porn star and not some douche from tinder for once.
✦ older pornstar!patrick who can’t get it up by the time you’re ready to shoot. embarrassment doesn’t exist for zweig, who only glances at you with a sleazy half-smirk along his lips. the only thing his cock manages is a small twitch as patrick takes in your expression; eyes narrowed, half-annoyed because he can’t get hard and half-upset because you think it’s your fault. you’re still too young to understand that a boner isn’t the end all be all of attraction. “oh, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, reaching down to stroke himself gingerly, “it’s not you, sweetheart, i promise.”
zweig huffs before holding his length still. “just suck me soft,” he suggests, though it’s less of a suggestion and more of an order judging by the way he gently slaps your cheek with his tip. “that’ll be hot. for me, anyways.”
✦ older pornstar!patrick who gets hard halfway through you sucking him, his cock pulsing in your mouth. “there we go," he croons, satisfaction coloring his voice. "that's more like it. look at you, a natural-born cock whisperer.” his hand reaches for your head, fingers snaking through your hair as he pushes you just a little further down on his dick. “perfect,” he groans softly, letting his head roll back. “i always know talent when i see it. didn’t even need to feel it to know you could do magic with that mouth. this is just proof.”
✦ older pornstar!patrick who tells you to look at the camera over your shoulder after he comes on your face. fuck, you look ruined. cum dribbles down your skin, your eyes wet and teary from handling his girth. flushed cheeks, almost pouty lips (you don’t like being told what to do, do you?). it’s more than perfect. when the camera stops rolling he scoops you up from between his legs and sets you on his right thigh. one hand holds the small of your back while the other cleans your face off with a nearby towel. it’s as close to kind as zweig can handle being. “you could go far,” he begins to coo in your ear, “you’d need a mentor, though. someone older to show you the ropes. and cover you in ropes. tie you up in ropes…” the smoothness of his voice trails, fizzling into nothing but tension before he slowly winks and presses a kiss to your forehead. “have your agent talk to my agent. if you’re interested, that is, in being a real star.”
✦ older pornstar!patrick whose got a filthy fucking mouth— worse than you’d imagined. he has a thing for describing in detail what he’s going to do to you and how. sprinkled in are his little nicknames for you: fucktoy, baby, dirty thing, sweetheart, slut, his favorite star, and a bunch of other variations. you’re allowed to call him mr. zweig, patrick or pat. he tends to favor pat when he’s feeling fond of you. when he’s mad, calling him mr. zweig can help appease him.
✦ older pornstar!patrick who does take care of you, in his own way. a whopper after filming, for instance, or staying on set while you shoot a flick with another pornstar just to make sure you’re safe. he’s quick to step in when you look uncomfortable. he’s also quick to step in when he thinks there’s unnecessary action happening between you and someone else. for better or worse, you’re his in a sense, bound to him as you climb the ladder of sexual fame.
✦ older pornstar!patrick who’s as good a director as he is a starring actor. he understands the industry from both sides, which is why you ought to stick with him. he knows just how to frame the camera and just how to position you. with each of your new films, he’s at least two of the following: creator, male lead, and viewer.
just a little au i thought of while on vacay… i don’t know what art & tashi r up to, i imagine patrick was a super popular pornstar like, enough for even everyday people to know him. he might have gotten some minor acting gigs, too. he was born for the camera, regardless, and he sees that in you.
tagging! @artstennisracket, @nozhdyved, @bluberrychampagne, @idioticstar, @tiffysdeath, @savedenji, @allmyn1ghts, @l3oken, @iantoscoffeemachine, @basketless, @vultureangeldotcom, @cinesvega, @voidsuites, @hisfavoriteweepingangel, @sophiek222, @chronic-fangirl-222 ✩ click here to be added!
Currently thinking about scruffy Patrick in his little shorts
Pairing: Patrick Zweig x f!Reader
Warnings: soft!domPatrick, fingers in mouth, finger sucking, condescending praise, petnames! (my pretty girl, my baby/baby), no use of y/n
Word count: 234
a/n: I honestly wrote this for my own pleasure, and it actually started as a simple thought, but then it just kept going, and I kept typing. This is kinda my first time writing and my first time posting any writing, though, so I’m a little nervous.😜
You could just sink your teeth into his thighs and watch him look down at you from his place on the bed. He’d have that smug ass grin on his face, full dimples on display. He would cradle your face with his big hand, calloused by all the years of playing tennis, and use his thumb to toy with your bottom lip. He would then pull until you open up for him and let the small weight of his thumb settle and press into the softness of your tongue.
“My pretty girl’s so needy.” It’s soft and barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to have you squirming and pressing your thighs together. “You like that?” He’s leaning in, tilting your chin up to look straight into your eyes. “Yeah?” “My baby likes hearing how pretty I think she looks when she’s all soft and begging for me.” You lightly suck on his thumb before pulling back and letting it go with a loud “pop.” “Pat, stop teasing, please.” Your voice comes out sweet and honey-like. His cockiness simmers down for a second, and his grin is replaced by a much softer smile. He leans down to press a gentle kiss against your lips. They’re slightly rosy and kiss-swollen from his hungry mouth earlier. “'M sorry, baby…” He leans back again, holding his weight up with his hands. “Go on, take what you want.”
