If You Dont Continue The Black Beauty Thing I Fear Im Going To Explode

anyways 70s!patrick picking you up off the side of the road in his cadillac. it was so hot outside and you looked like you were struggling to carry this huge suitcase all by yourself. and that’s totally the only reason he stopped in front of you. to help. not just because you had on the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen.

“hey.” he called out to you from the open passenger seat window.

“hi.”

you gave him the sweetest smile, and he almost felt bad for the dirty thoughts he was having about you.

“need a ride?” you contemplated the offer for a moment before ultimately giving in. “hm… sure!” patrick parked his car a few stops ahead then got out to grab your bag.

“i’m patrick by the way.” he said. you nodded introducing yourself. “so where are we headed.” he asked you, sliding back into the car. “la.” you answered. kicking off your shoes and throwing you feet up on his dashboard, before sinking into the passenger seat. “i’m gonna be a movie star.” you giggled. patrick hummed, his eyes closing in on the smooth skin of your thighs that had a slight sheen of sweat on them. “the new american dream.”

he let you take control of the radio switching from station to station singing to every single song.

“i just wanna say thank you for picking me up. been walking for forever.” you dropped your hand on his shoulder, playfully tugging at his ears. patrick flinched at the sudden action before chuckling. “you uh- look a long ways away from home. how’d you get so far out here.” you sighed. “well, i hitched from nevada with this trucker who ended up creeping me out, so at our last stop i jumped out with my bag and have been walking since. my legs are so sore.” you pouted.

patrick dropped one of his big hands on your thigh, and squeezed. moving his hand up and down massaging your leg.

you “subtly” clenched your thighs together whenever his hand got a little to high, and patrick had to hold back his smirk leaving his hand to just rest at the top of your inner thigh. “you know, i have a friend who’s a photographer for… magazines. i could totally get him to take you headshots, and introduce you to people.” patrick turned to look at you, catching how your face lit up.” “really?!”

patrick nodded and you huffed a laugh, jumping in your seat a little. “that’s amazing, oh my god. how could i ever repay you?”

“we’ll think of something.”

-

that something being you riding him outside his condo in palm springs.

“fuck, babe your body was made to be on film.” your t-shirt was lost somewhere in the car, and patrick had his rough hands groping at your exposed breast. your thighs were starting to ache again from moving up and down on his cock.

“you’re so big, can’t -fuck- can’t do it.” your movement flattered down into slow grinds. “uh uh.” patrick held you up by your waist, and started moving you again. “movie stars don’t quit do they? i’m already helping you out so much just be a good girl ride me. ok.”

he wasn’t exactly wrong. he was helping you out. giving you a ride, letting you stay with him, getting his friends to do your head shots.

“ok.”

you planted your hands on his clothed shoulder holding on tight as you started bouncing again. your whimpery moans sounded as sweet as the smile you gave him earlier looked.

“atta girl.” patrick locked his arms around your waist, and dropped his head in the crook of your neck. he bucked his hips up in fast thrust. “patrick!”

his hand found place on the back of your neck forcing you to keep eye contact with him. “god, your pussy feels amazing. so glad i picked you up.” you nodded along with his words. “would’ve been so lost without me, get picked by some creepy old man.” he says as if he isn’t one them.

“thankyouthankyouthankyousomuch” you mumbled.

“and you’re so fucking sweet.” he pushed back against the steering, the both of you jumping when the horn went off. laughs mixed in with your moans.

patrick let his hand travel down body his finger finding your clit, and he rubbed figure eights on you feeling your walls clench tighter around him. “gonna cum baby?” you nodded your head fast. your bodies moving in the same fast pace, from the outside anyone walking by would be able to tell what’s going on.

“oh god -fuck!- cumming!” you moans filled up the space along with the slapping of skin, and some you gushing all over patrick’s cock with light scream. “shit!” patrick’s rhythm got sloppy and he completely stilled inside of you, fill you up with thick ropes of cum.

the two of sat there in each other’s catching your breaths, your mixed orgasms dripping down onto patrick’s leather seats.

“the industry’s gonna love you.” you smiled at his comment threading your fingers through his hair not knowing you two were thinking about very different industries.

masterlist

symbol key: smut = ✧ , fluff = ꨄ︎, angst = ❀, favorites = ♥︎

ART DONALDSON: ♥︎ me & you together song ꨄ︎ PATRICK ZWEIG: you're here, that's the thing ꨄ︎, ❀ TASHI DUNCAN: black beauty ❀

↳ part 2: good luck, babe! ❀

A/N: So…Patrick’s sister, this was supposed to be shorter but I uh…I got carried away, enjoy anyway!! <33

As patricks sister, you always understood the dynamic; Patrick is the overprotective annoying older brother and you are the nerdy—he says— younger sister.

So obviously, growing up with him was an interesting experience to say the least.

Before going to MRTA, he’d usually bring his friends over after school, and of course you being the pretty little thing you are, they’d always joke around about how Patrick’s sister was hot, (literally average twelve year old when they see any female) and well Patrick, Patrick was pissed, so this is when the golden rule—he calls it— came in.

Patrick’s sister is off-limits.

Which eventually stopped being a big deal when he left for MRTA, since you’d only see him for holidays and breaks, and you didn’t really get to meet any of his friends.

Then Art comes into Patrick’s life; Bunkmates since they were twelve, both in their first year away from home.

For the first summer break, Patrick left to go to your family’s lake house with you and your parents, and Art went back home to visit his nana, he knew his parents would most likely be away working—as per usual.

But he actually finds out that his nana had already been sent to a retirement home 15 minutes out of his home town, so he visited every couple of days during that summer even though his nana kept telling him, “Artie, you don’t have to visit an antique like me, go be a kid, enjoy your summer” however he insisted in staying around her to keep company.

So when they get back, Patrick “loud mouth” Zweig rants to Art about his summer, and Art simply nods thinking about how he’d most likely stay in the academy next summer, not like he had much to go back to at home.

Fast forward a couple of months, it’s Christmas; Art is helping Patrick pack last minute when there’s a knock at the door, then they hear a feminine voice.

“Come on dickwad, mom and dad are waiting in the car”

Patrick groaned as he started to shove his things into his bag, then looking back at art as he folded some of Patrick’s shirts.

“Hey, Donaldson, mind getting the door? It’s my fuck ass sister” he said casually as he grabbed the shirts from Art.

“Sure” Art mumbled not thinking much, only trying to imagine a female Patrick behind the door, seeing as he’s never met you, so there he goes, he opens the door and finds—not a female Patrick— but the prettiest girl he’d seen just standings there in the most angelic way.

“Hey…?”

“Art, it’s uh— my name is Art” he’s stumbling over his own words in the stupidest way possible.

“What kind of name is Art? Are you like an Arthur or something?” He cringes internally but before he can answer Patrick pushes past him.

“It’s just Art, leave him alone, he’s my best friend, only I can make fun of him, find one yourself, kid” Patrick speaks as he walks out the door with his things then turns to Art, “going home for Christmas, Donny?”

Art despised that nickname, the tips of his ears went red as his whole face flushed, but he shook his head.

“My parents said they won’t be able to make for Christmas and I— I don’t want to worry my nana so…” he said shyly and a bit disappointed but, they were the same parents that had forgotten his birthday a year ago and days later brought a cake that said “happy 14th birthday” when he was turning 12.

“Awe…that sucks man, I’ll talk to my parents, you can tag along with us to our lake house next summer”

And that’s how the tradition all started, every summer, Art would spend it with Patrick’s parents, you and Patrick at the lake house, which gave him enough time to catch a little something his nana called a Lovebug, essentially, his was crushing hard.

But of course, there was the golden rule— totally off-limits.

And Art was…fine with it, it’s not like you’d ever like him back, he was probably just “Patrick’s quiet best friend” to you.

Little did he know…

Then fast forward a couple years later, coincidentally, you would also be going to Stanford without actually knowing Art had already been there for a year.

And Stanford was full of frat parties, Halloween costume parties and in general, any party within a 10 mile radius.

And you, pretty little freshman had been invited to a frat party by one of the juniors in your econ class, and I mean, you can’t be rude, right? You have to go.

So, you do.

You wind up in a frat house with a shit ton of people, some cigarette smoke and, a whole bunch of red disposable cups, so why not grab one, what’s the worst thing it could have in it, beer probably?

Wrong.

Something that to you tasted exactly what rubbing alcohol smelled like, so it goes straight from the cup to your mouth then back to the cup as you cringe letting out a single dry cough.

“You alright there?” A gentle voice popped up from behind you, familiar but you couldn’t quite tell, but as you turn there he is; Art fucking Donaldson. With a backwards red Stanford cap and a grey Stanford hoodie.

Oh.

“Oh— Art…hey” you chuckle softly still smelling the mysterious alcohol from your mouth.

“This isn’t quite your scene, huh?” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup with that goddamn side smirk of his.

“Yeah— no, I mean, I’ve been to parties, fun, fun parties. And this, this is so my scene” you rambled nervously, it was already embarrassing enough you, a freshman was at a frat party with a pretty floral skirt and a crochet sweater.

“Really? Oh…then have fun, fun girl” he laughed as he lifted his cup a bit towards you to then walk away.

Fuck it. You were gonna get wasted.

And so, that you did; Somehow ending up in just a soaked tank top, a soaked skirt, hair dripping water and, squeaky wet shoes as you stumbled out of the pool from the backyard.

“Hey, watch it—“ Art turned as he felt your body bump against his, “oh it’s you, fun girl.” He giggled as he saw you, clearly too drunk to even know what was going on, and he could’ve just laugh it off and get back to the party, but Art wasn’t like that, and specially not to you, you’re such a pretty little thing all wasted and soaked past midnight, plus, you were Patrick’s sister. He had to.

So he said his goodbyes and grabbed you as you both walked out of the frat to go back to campus.

“So tell me, miss Zweig, how does one, as drunk as you, not drown in a pool?” He said as he saw you hold onto his arm for dear life trying not to trip, which might have just dug up something he had buried years ago.

“Y’know, im fun, and this is so my people” you said looking up at him—just barely— as you let out a hiccup.

He blushed as he heard it, clearly it was your first time getting drunk drunk, adding on to the wet hair and your shivering body,

“Right, fun girl, my bad” he chuckled “come on you’re shivering, here” he pulled his hoodie off as he handed it to you, “can’t let you catch a cold, how else will you go to your next party, miss fun girl”

“Thank you, Artie.” You said as you grabbed the hoodie sliding it over your head feeling the warmth it carried from Arts body, accompanied by the faint smell of his cologne.

Meanwhile, Art was feeling like his spine had just been ripped out; Artie.

You hadn’t called him that since the summers at the lake house, where he had attempted and failed to forget his crush on you.

“Yeah— I uh…yeah” he blushed even harder as he fumbled his words not knowing how to react.

You just shut your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne to then open them up, there you were, doe eyed looking at him, in his hoodie, hair soaked as you unconsciously made it harder for him to be a good friend to Patrick, he felt horrible.

Not only did the disgusting thought of wanting to fuck you against his jeep popped into his head, this is Patrick’s sister he’s fantasizing about.

“Come on— I uh, I gotta get you back on campus” he cleared his throat as he looked away avoiding your stare.

“You’re no fun anymore, Artie…” a pout made itself present as you took a step closer, your hands landing on his shoulders, “come on, Donny…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Patrick would kill me, you know that.”

“I won’t tell”

He wasn’t proud of himself for turning back to look at you, but you were just so pretty, lucky he didn’t have a boner, if he hadn’t given you the hoodie to cover your very visible nipples against the tank top, he’d probably have you bent over his cars hood.

“I really— I can’t…” he mumbled, his face inches away from yours, noses brushing against each other.

“You sure?” You whispered as you stared down at his lips, “not just this once?”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, well…there goes his willpower, he was in too deep already.

Next thing he knows, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, all flushed, tits out, him whimpering as he dug his fingers into your hips holding on for dear life throwing his head back, and windows all fogged up.

Yeah, he was so screwed.

He will most definitely be breaking the golden rule for…well, let’s just say it’s not a one time thing.

happy challengers anniversary month to those who celebrate 🩷

Josh O'Connor | W Magazine (2025)

chat i have soooo many drafts rotting and no motivation… ☹️

we are being fed

THAT’S MY IDIOT!!! OH MY GOD!! HE’S SO CUTEEEE AAAAAAAAAAAA

patrick zweig listens to the 1975 and identifies so fucking hard with matty healy. dont make the rules

genuinely, how do you write smut??? i feel so stupid. this is why i stick to fluff and angst. this is hard 😔🙃