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gamesetart · 5 months ago

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the last line... oh i fear my time in the church may have been well spent after all

The small town Patrick request you just did was amazing im gonna need you to do a part 2 if you what like they can’t get enough of each other, they’re sneaking around and she feels really guilty about it but she can’t stop. she wants him to properly ask her to be his girlfriend at least because it feels like she’s disappointing god. Idk whatever you feel comfortable with.

after you and patrick make out in his car, there's no stopping. full speed ahead, you keep seeing him. patrick makes fun of you. little stubborn god-fearing church girl sneaking around with patrick zweig. the same patrick who is high half the summer. who watches porn you would be disgusted to know even exists.

it's easy to sneak around with patrick when your father has urged you to continue lessons. patrick refuses his money, so your mother insists he come to dinner once a week, after your second lesson.

so on sundays you go to church and wave sweetly to patrick, the zweig family. you sit politely for the service and patrick and you share glances as you say your prayers. and then you eat lunch and take a shower once you get home. patrick picks you up at 2 on the dot. he drives around and you do practice for thirty or so minutes. but after that--anything is fair game.

you sit on his lap right on the court sometimes. nobody comes around in such a small town. patrick gropes you, pushes his hands under your skirt to tease you. kisses your neck, pulls your hair a little. brushes his lips softly against yours. you just want him to kiss you. he hasn't fucked you yet, you wouldn't allow it.

but how he talks to you makes you feel filthy. like you already have.

"i bet your little pussy is so fucking tight. would feel like heaven."

it makes you squirm on his lap and cars are driving by; it could be anyone, in a town where everyone knows everyone. but he keeps you there. touches you just enough to work you up. he wants you to fold. to yank him towards you and shove your tongue against his. to grind against his palm. you always fold for him.

and then he takes you home at 5. you eat an early dinner and patrick sits across from you. says you're doing such a great job. you're a fast learner. he can't believe you've never done this before. you're not sure what he's referring to. tennis or your sinful foreplay.

but you keep your composure. your father wouldn't allow you to continue lessons if he thought for even a second that patrick was attracted to you or you to him.

so you nod, and patrick compliments your mother's cooking and asks for seconds if he can have them.

after he leaves your mother gushes about him.

"he's really something else." she says, handing you a dish to scrub. "so handsome and polite!"

you choke a little, then nod fervently. "he's very nice."

"you don't think he's handsome?"

it feels like a trick.

"i've never noticed, i guess." a huge lie. you feel pangs of guilt rising, twirling ivies around your veins. "i really like tennis. i think im learning a lot."

your mom retreats. "that's good, honey."

that night patrick asks if you want to sneak out. you say no. and then after 1, you're in his car.

"where are we going?"

patrick takes a drag from his cigarette. you like how his jaw tenses. "to my house. my parents are out of town. visiting family friends before my sister goes to college."

"why didn't you go?" you tear your cuticles.

"i have lessons to teach."

he turns into his driveway. you've never been to his house; it's huge. vast with what seems like a mile long road to get to the house itself.

"what are we doing here?"

you're so innocent. you act like every time is your first.

"just hanging out." patrick gets out of the car.

you're in the kitchen now.

"do you want a drink? a shot?" you're sat on the kitchen island and patrick waves around a bottle of vodka.

"i shouldn't."

"come on. we'll do one together."

"how will you drive me home? my dad would kill you." you cross your arms.

patrick takes his shirt off. you've never seen him shirtless but you gulp. hair peppers his chest and trails down his naval before stopping abruptly at the waistband of his shorts.

"killing me isn't very holy."

"neither is drinking."

"neither is letting me touch your cunt." he pours two shots.

the word sounds vicious coming out of his mouth. you can't take your eyes off of patrick's body.

he hands you one and you clink them together and take them. your face quivers and a shudder rolls down your spine. patrick laughs at you and you feel the liquor down there.

"you feel it?" patrick asks.

you do feel a little tipsy. and you do want him really bad.

you nod and spread your legs. patrick can see your panties from beneath your skirt.

"what are you doing?" patrick stands between your legs, running a finger up your shin.

you shrug.

"i dunno." your face is hot.

"do you ever touch yourself?" patrick bunches your skirt up around your waist. your panties are soaked.

"no."

"you've never had an orgasm?" patrick's thumb runs over your clothed pussy.

you shake your head. your arms are wobbly from holding yourself up.

patrick pushes your panties to the side. he's never really touched you like this.

"this okay?"

no.

"yes." you nod.

you're so wet you're practically dripping. patrick runs a finger through your folds and presses against your clit and you grab onto his shoulder for purchase. you didn't know this really felt that good. because then he's pushing his middle finger into you and it stings but in a way that makes you beg. more, more, more.

"bad fucking girl. letting me fuck your pussy with my fingers."

you moan against his mouth and move forward to kiss him but he moves his head back.

"say it."

you mewl. patrick rubs harder circles over your clit. "say what--" your words are airy.

"say you're a bad girl. ask god to forgive you." his fingers stop moving and you realize he's not going to give you more until you say it.

you start to move your hips but he stops you.

"i'm--" patrick wiggles his fingers, just once. shows you the feeling you're missing so bad. "im a bad girl. please--god, forgive me--"

patrick grabs your jaw and moves his fingers faster and faster. expertly. you try not to think about how many girls he's done this to. it's easy when you feel a weird pit in the bottom of your stomach, blossoming like a dandelion. a weed that shouldn't be there but maybe it's not so bad--and then you feel it. your first orgasm. it has to be.

"patrick--oh my god--" you grind your cunt against his hand and he talks you through it. says you're perfect. says look at you, good girl.

but you're not perfect and you're not good. you feel awful and you need to stop this now.

but patrick is breathing heavy and his hair is sweaty, matted against his forehead. he's hard. so you untie his shorts.

do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

#need him #emchat!#innercircles #k.rbs

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gamesetart · 5 months ago

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“You’re romanticizing it!”

No, actually, I’m sexualizing it. Thanks.

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gamesetart · 5 months ago

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punishment from patrick where he makes you kneel in front of him while he fucks a fleshlight in front of you :(( cause you're such a fucking stubborn bratty girl you don't get to be fucked, you get to spit on his cock to get it wet for his toy :(( makes you tongue at his balls while he bounces the silicone pussy on and off his cock, taunts you the whole time about it too, cause he's real mean :((( "this pussies so fucking good" because he knows you fucking hate to hear that, the way you whine and pout and demand he say it's not true - that your cunt is tighter but he just groans "I dont know baby - it's so fucking - wet -" the slick sound of him pumping it up and down his rigid cock mirror that - "- and tight - shit. bet you wish it was you, huh? grippin my cock and milkin' it with that - fuck - hot little pussy -"

you whine - rub your hands up and down his tense thighs. thick and fuzzy and flexing with the motions of his fucking - "please - " you whine. "daddy, I could fuck you so much better. and my pussies warm. you need a warm pussy on your cock - let me make it warm for you -"

it's tempting. he bites his lip. his balls throb, full and swollen. and he thinks it's so much fucking hotter to deny you even more - really break you down for that attitude you'd had earlier - "that's nice, baby. but this toys gonna get my cum, not you." his other hand comes down to grip the back of your head, drags you back between his legs - "you can warm my fucking nuts. show me how fucking sorry you are with that mouth."

and it's not what you want but you'll take what you can get. leaning in and tugging his sack into your mouth, rolling the twin balls in your mouth and feeling them bounce on your tongue as he fucks the fleshlight with fast wet tugs. your neglected cunt throbs - but patrick is on cloud nine, keeps your head in place "aw, yeah - right there - push my balls around on your tongue - get my fucking cum ready to fill this pussy -"

you dutifully suck around him. hum and lave his sack with all your attention. letting drool dribble down your chin and get his fuzzy thighs all sticky with spit, dripping down to his taint. his eyes roll back and you feel the moment he cums - could tell even if he didn't groan and curse - by the way his balls pulse and throb in your mouth - his thighs twitching on either side of your head.

his spent cock slips from the toys hole - bobs against his stomach flushed and not yet soft. he tips the silicone at you, lips twitching - you can see where his cum seeps out of the plastic cunts hole - "you still want it?"

fuck it. you nod.

"then fucking eat it."

you do - darting forward to suck his cum from the toy, digging your tongue inside the plastic to scoop out every tangy drop. whine into it at his taste . "that's it. every drop -" he pulls the toy away and grins when you finish.

he still has a hard cock that he reaches down to grip lazily.

"you can go." he jerks his head to his door. he's already rubbing the lips of the toy at his engorged tip, teasing it open. "thanks for making it wet for me."

you want to stomp your foot. "but -"

"im gonna cum again -" he grunts and slides the fleshlight over his cock again, taking his time with it, letting his cock slowly split the toy hole open as he sinks it down. "and you dont need me anymore right? I don't need you either - "

you shake your head "no - no - no - daddy I'm sorry. I'm sorry I take it back I take it back - "

fuck you sound so fucking good when you apologize and get all fucking pathetic. he wants to see more of it.

"yeah? you're sorry?"

you look at him with your big pouty lips and eyes, "yes - yes - daddy, I promise."

he places his foot on your knee, his grin is downright fucking sleazy as he looks down at you. spread out and naked and glorious. pumping the silicone pussy up and down up and down up and down.

he licks his lips - nudges his foot up your leg. "prove it - you want my cock again?" you nod. "lick my fucking feet."

#oh its bad its serious its nasty #cw: feet #k.rbs #poppychats!#innercircles

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gamesetart · 5 months ago

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sorry ive been so inactive ive been so so busy i promise im coming back. in the meantime my monthy panic rewatch is upon me, y'all fuck with dodge mason?

#i say yall in a gay way and he says it in a cowboy way #we're basically meant to be #kitschats

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gamesetart · 5 months ago

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"it feels like being wanted" ART WHEN I CATCH YOU

ugh "leverage" to ensure she won't go tattling to patrick. especially as he starts getting meaner and meaner, he tells her it's to make sure she doesn't back out and tell on him. because patrick would genuinely kill art if he knew what he's been doing to his baby sister.

i know it doesn't really fit in the canon of the other parts to this au, but hear me out anyway... what if he agreed to fuck her, properly this time, in her sweet little pussy. BUT he needs said leverage to make sure she keeps quiet about it (truly he just needs to immortalize taking her virginity so he can watch it back for the rest of his life). so he "agrees", he's the one to bring it up lol, on the condition that he can record it. y'know like really shitty, amateur, pov style, on her creaky dorm bed and pink, frilly sheets. shaky and grainy, but it's good enough for him. it's not like he would ever actually post it anywhere or show people, but she doesn't know that.

he gets off on how nervous she is when he points the camera at her, she's blushing and trying to hide her face. but he just slaps her cheek and manhandles her to look right down the lens of his shitty phone camera. tells her to moan louder around his big cock, tell the camera how good he feels, really just stroking his own ego. makes her tell the camera exactly how he's making her feel, can't cum unless she asks into the camera. he nearly cums right inside her when she tells him he's too big and it hurts :(((((

yummy yummy yummy

-🐞

OHHHHHHH <3 I had to let this simmer. This had to ruminate. Had to really let it sit and grow legs or whatever wine people say idk

RATING: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, degradation, making a sex tape, loss of virginity, world’s worst aftercare), mean!art as always, uncomfortable power dynamics, DUBCON due to coercion

He catches you leaving one of your classes, chatting happily with a few girls as you walk. Their eyes widen as he approaches, smacking his gum, looming tall over them. You murmur a quick apology and bound over like an obedient little pet, falling into stride beside him as he walks.

“What class is that?” He asks, nodding back towards the building. Most of the time he forgot you even attended the school beyond cheering at his games and floating around his dormitory like a ghost.

“Peoples and cultures,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s an anthropology course I’m taking. It’s actually really interesting, like, these past few lectures have been—“

“What are you doing tonight?” He interrupts, not really caring beyond the simple answer to his question. He has a one track mind, and for the moment he’s just thinking about getting in your pants.

He watches you think, then shrug. “Um… nothing, I guess? Why?”

Art stops by a tree suddenly, tugs you by your wrist to stop with him. “Do you promise if we fuck you won’t tell Patrick?” He watches as your eyes widen, as sheer need and excitement makes you practically vibrate out of your skin.

Frantically you nod. “I’d never tell Patrick, I’d take it to my grave, I swear,” you say, totally earnest, bouncing on the balls of your feet as he looks at you.

“God, I want you so bad,” he hums, brushing your hair back behind your ear. You melt beneath his touch, gaze all half-lidded and soft. “I just… I think I’d have to have some leverage, just to make sure no one ever finds out.”

You tilt your face, resting it on his hand, your eyes half-lidded and dazed with need. You hum a soft, “Mhmm,” without even knowing what he’s implying, what he’s asking of you. But he hears what you’re thinking, all dumbed down and needy— yes, Art, whatever you say Art, anything you want, Art.

He wants to do it in your room, that night. He walks you back to your dorm and tells you to get your roommate out, make sure she’s busy for however long you need. He’d text you when he’s on his way.

So you’re just… fucking vibrating with excitement, cleaning up your dorm, changing your sheets, fluffing your pillows. You light three warm vanilla sugar candles so the dorm smells nice and sweet, put on your roommate’s SEXXXMIXXX <3 CD that she had burned in High School (and kept your fingers crossed it was still relevant). You took the longest fucking shower of all time, scrubbed your skin until it stung, shaved you’re entire body, wondered if maybe he wouldn’t like bald pussy, then worried that he’d hate if you kept the hair even more. Moisturized, then put on pretty, light makeup— lipgloss, mascara. All in the span of time it took for him to text you.

Art :) <3

omw

You feel a little dizzy by the time he’s at your door, already wet just anticipating what you were about to do. He grins down at you, at your silky little pajama set, pink and lacy around the edges. Smacks his gum, trails his hand along the sides of your waist.

“Pretty.” He looks smug as he rubs the lace between his fingers. “You got all dressed up for me, huh?”

It’s amazing how timid and shy you can look as you stand in front of him, biting onto your lip as you nod. He shuts the door behind him and guides you backwards until you knock against your bed and laugh nervously. Jesus, he’d already fucked your ass, your throat, he’d done things to you that even the dirtiest fucking sluts on campus wouldn’t dream of allowing. But you’re all shy because he’s finally going to fuck you properly?

You gasp as he tugs down the neckline of your top, exposing your tits to the cool air of the dorm. So cute, soft. Your nipples already hard and sensitive, so just the lightest pinch makes you let out a pretty moan.

“Remember what I said about leverage?” Art says, and you nod slowly, dreamily. “I want to film it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, as you think back to the pictures he’d taken of you just a few weeks prior. “And you’d… what? Like post it if Pat finds out?”

“No, no, only if you tell,” he corrects. Even then… he doubted he’d actually ever post it anywhere. He had a tennis career to consider, after all. But the important thing was that you believe he will. “It’s just to make sure this stays our secret.”

You swallow, consider it. You didn’t plan on telling Patrick, so it was fine, right? He’d hate Art, and you didn’t want that. You would never want that, no matter what.

So you nod softly. “Okay,” you say finally. “I’d… yeah, I understand. Okay.”

God, you’re easy. So fucking easy it makes him a little sick to think about. What if he wasn’t Patrick’s friend, if he was some frat house asshole who would take advantage of how bad you wanted him? You’re so lucky he’s a good person.

He uses your own fucking digital camera— pink and decorated with little heart stickers. Turns it on and records you as you slip off your sweet silky pajamas, revealing soft, smooth skin beneath. You’re so shaky, so nervous. You can’t even look into the lens.

“No panties?” He asks, lips quirked into a grin. He steps forward to slip his hand between your thighs, to cup your pussy in one big hand. God, you’re so fucking wet, just like you usually are. He could just slide right in without any resistance, just bury himself right inside that tight little pussy. “Jesus, you’re a fucking mess, just dripping for it, aren’t you?”

You moan, relishing in the feeling of his hands on you. Art never touched you, not to get you off, at least. So the feeling of his thick calloused fingers against your cunt makes you whine. He breaches your entrance with just a fingertip and grins at the feeling of you clenching around the intrusion, desperate for anything he’ll give you.

But the relief is gone as soon as you’ve gotten it. He pats your thigh, nods to the bed. “Go lay down. Let me film you stretching yourself out for me.”

“Art,” you whine once you’ve laid down, embarrassed as he trains the lens on you. “Do you have to film this part?”

It just makes him double down, grinning smugly as he settles at the foot of the bed. “C’mon, just fucking do it. Show the camera how fucking wet you get for me.” You hear the whir of him zooming in as your hand slips between your thighs, as lithe fingers slide through your soaking wet folds and you tease your clit. He groans softly, grinning at the sight on the camera. “Alright, spread yourself out now. Show me how small and tight you are.”

You whimper pathetically, but obey. Your fingers form a V as you spread your lips, revealing the pretty, drippy hole of your cunt. He doesn’t even have to tell you to start fucking yourself, you just do. Pretty, manicured fingers disappearing inside the tight channel of your pussy, slow and easy as you pant and gasp sweetly.

“Can you do three?” He asks. He zooms the camera out, makes sure he gets all of you— your tits heaving with each breath, the slow grind of your hips to meet your fingers. You nod softly, press a third finger alongside the other two. He grins at the sight of the stretch of your cunt around them, how your body works to accommodate them. “God, it’s a tight stretch, huh?”

“Mhmm.” You moan as you pump your fingers slow, in and out. Wet to the point of it sounding obscene. Slick dripping out with each thrust, making your fingers glisten.

He can hardly take sitting there and watching, but god, he’d love it later on when he was alone with only the video to keep him company. But who knows? Maybe he’d fuck you once and never want anyone else. He already felt that way… kind of. You were so eager, so obsessed with him. You touched him like it was an act of worship. He couldn’t get that from easy pussy.

He sets the camera down on the foot of the bed while he undresses, tugging off his sweats and tee shirt, mussing up his hair in the process. It’s not lost on him, the way your fingers speed up at the sight of his cock, how needy and desperate you are.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks as he picks up the camera.

God, he’s mean. You whine when he grabs your wrist and makes you slip your fingers from inside of your cunt. Empty, needy, desperate. “Please, fuck me, Art.” You’re embarrassed, of course you are. He has a camera focused on your needy little expression, one hand on your thigh all warm and possessive. “Please, I’ve been so good for you. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I just need you, I need you inside of me. Want you to be my first. Please, Art.”

He’s not sure where he wants the camera as he notches the head of his cock at your wet little hole. Part of him wants to film the second he buries his cock inside of that tight fucking cunt, but the other wants to film your face, watch how pretty you look as you take your very first cock.

And god, you’re trembling beneath him. Visibly shaking with anticipation, or nerves, or need. He runs a hand along your torso, cups one of your tits in his hands and thumbs over your sensitive nipple. “What, are you cold?” He teases.

“N-no,” you stammer, meeting his gaze. “Just— I just want it so bad.”

He films your face, which was the right call, he decides. He has to think about it technically, or he’ll risk blowing his load one pump in, like a total fucking loser. You’re so tight around him, clamping down on his cock as he sheaths himself within you, inch after inch. And god, that angelic face of yours— mouth agape, wet and pink and pretty, the tiniest furrow between your brows, lashes splayed against your cheeks as you moan, soft and sweet. “Hurts,” you practically whimper. “God, Art, fuck, it feels—“

He films where your cunt swallows him, stretched to the point of obscenity around his thick cock. It shouldn’t even be able to take him, not when you’re so small, so fucking tight. It’s a fucking miracle you’d even taken a toy before. He’d make you film that next. All desperate, fucking yourself on silicon while you drooled over a picture of him. It was sweet that you’d been trying to prepare yourself to take him and you were still a shaking, needy mess.

Tears well in your eyes as he thumbs at your swollen little clit, he feels your pussy clench around him, already so fucking keyed up. He should be good. He should make love to you, nice and slow, like a good boy. He’s starting to think he’s not a good boy, not at all. “Just lay there and take it, yeah? Just look nice and pretty for the camera.”

You cry out when he pulls back only to drive back in, hard and deep. His pace is relentless as he fucks into your cunt— warm and wet and tight and fucking perfect. He honestly shouldn’t have waited, he should’ve fucked you the first night you offered yourself up to him— sweet and needy and clinging off his shoulder like you were his girlfriend.

“A-Art, fuck—“ You cry out, fisting your pretty hands into the frilly duvet, as he bullies himself into you. “Oh, god, fuck, A-Art, it’s too much— I-I can’t—“ A strangled moan seems to rip itself from your throat as your head falls back against the pillows.

He grins. “Yeah? Don’t tell me, honey, tell the camera.”

You whine, turning your head away as embarrassment rips through you. It’s mean, keeping it trained on you while you’re so fucking vulnerable. He grabs your chin, holds it in place as he fucks into you, deeper, rougher. It punches out gasps from your pretty open mouth— Ah! Ah! Ah! Over and over and over.

He pops your cheek, not too hard, but enough to draw your attention back from him and away from your dizzying thoughts. “Tell the camera how good it feels to have my big cock in that little pussy of yours, yeah?

“It feels— ngh— I love it,” you have pretty fat tears slipping down your cheeks as he drills into you. “You’re so big, I— God, fuck— I feel you in my stomach. Here—“ You grab his hand, move it to press against the bottom of your stomach. He can’t feel anything, not except warm skin beneath his, but he groans at your words, at the implication that he’s so deep he’s in your fucking guts.

He has to bite his tongue so hard he tastes blood. He knows he’s going to cum, knows that he’s not going to last or show off epic, manly stamina and impress you. Not that you give a shit, but he wants to set a standard for whatever fucking loser you fuck next. He’d have next time, and as many other times as he wanted. You’d keep coming back for it, for him.

He struggles to manhandle you the way he needs while holding onto the camera. He tosses it into the sheets so he can press your knees up to your chest. “Hold them— yeah, that’s it, fuck— feels good.” You’re so obedient, holding your legs up for him so he can get deeper. Your eyes roll back, flutter shut. He fumbles to grab the camera, to immortalize you like this.

Your cunt squeezes around him, makes his rhythm falter as he struggles to fend off his orgasm. God, he just wants to bury himself deep and rut into you, to cum deep and hard, leave you dripping with him. It’s about him… but it’s about you too. He’d be good, he’d make you cum.

“Tell me how bad you need to cum. Fucking beg me for it,” He groans, rubbing at your clit with a calloused thumb.

You whine, squeezing around his cock as he draws you closer and closer. “Need it, Art. It feels so good— you’re so fucking perfect, feel so perfect inside of me. Wanna cum for you, around your cock, wanna show you how good you feel. Please, please, god, I want it, I want to feel it, Art. Want you to cum inside of me, need it so bad— I fucking dream about it, about you. You’re so much better, you’re everything I want, Art, fucking claim me. I want you to.”

Art wanted to pull out. He did. He was going to glaze your pussy with his cum, get it on video, swipe his fingers through it and make you taste it. But Jesus Christ, you fucking ruined that idea. He cums suddenly, practically collapses on top of you as he fucks into your cunt, spilling himself deep inside of you. And like the perfect fucking toy you are, you cum too, milking him for all he’s worth, walls clenching down around his cock as he lazily ruts into you.

He pants, stays buried inside of you as he tries to catch his breath. He’d never cum inside someone before— he was too afraid of knocking someone up. He’d always had the self control to pull out, but he lost himself in fucking you, in the tight grip of your pussy around him. Christ, that was bad.

When he pulls out, a thick gush of his cum follows, pearly white, dripping down your ass and to the bed. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, you’ve tugged a blanket over yourself shyly. Looking so demure, so sweet, batting your lashes up at him expectantly.

The camera lays dropped and forgotten on the bed, he goes and presses the stop button on the camera and you grab at his arm. “Do you want to stay the night?” You ask with a shy bite of your lip. “I told Izzy to fuck off, so she’s with her girlfriend. We’ve got the dorm for the night, so you can stay.”

Art makes a face akin to annoyance as he redresses, tugging on his boxers and sweats. His shirt is somewhere… he can’t focus. I’m not your boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen, you swallow as heat floods your cheeks. “Yeah, I mean, I know,” you stammer. “I just thought��”

His jaw ticks. “Don’t do that, then. This is just about fucking.

Art watches the sad little nod, the tiniest twitch of your nose as you fight the rush of tears to your eyes. “I know that, Art,” you say sadly, and you’re trembling again. “I just wish you’d stay for a bit. I’m… I feel a lot right now. I’ve never… I’ve never felt this before I just want—“

“What do you want? A hug, a kiss?” He watches you sniffle sadly, nod and mutter a watery, yeah. He sighs, stops searching for his shirt, and pulls you against his chest. You feel so warm, so vulnerable as you shake and cry hot tears against his chest. He frowns, pulls back, and presses his lips to yours, quick and chaste. “I’m not doing this again if you keep acting like this.”

You sniffle and nod. “Okay, I know, I won’t do it again.” He kisses the crown of your head. Grabs a random shirt from the top of your laundry basket, grabs the camera, and heads for the door. You watch him leave with a pouty, wobbly little frown and get up to redress. You find his Stanford Tennis shirt partly beneath your bed and pull it on. It’s big, fits you like a hug, smells so boyish and warm. You lay back down on the bed he just fucked you on and breathe deep, let his smell flood your senses. It feels a little like being wanted.

AURRRRR this was so much longer than I thot <3

Anyways. Love pat’s sister au, feel free to send me any asks you want about these messy bitches <3

🐞 anon i love u

#im fucking sick genuinely so truly #catchat!#k.rbs #innercircles

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