#fumble ᝰ

[issysh3ll]

does reader stay after chris kisses her in fumble? or does she go home? i love the chase and i need more.

Coming soon!

[sstargirln]

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ call me so i can see?

patrick x fem!reader x art (on the phone)

TW: smut MDNI - oral (f receiving), p in v, masturbation, one bit where he slaps her- patrick is kinda a perv idk, mentions of vomit, swearing

word count: 1637

¡! ❞ a/n: au where they all go to stanford and tashi doesn't exist ig (love her js could not incorporate her!)

"show me what you're wearing, baby," art mumbled. you picked the camera up from where it was resting on your vanity and switched the view to show him your little pink skirt and grey tank top through the mirror.

"and then i think i'll wear these white panties," you hummed, flipping up your skirt to show him the lacy white underwear, turning round to show him the back. "d'you like?"

art looked almost pained on the other end, eyes dark and jaw slightly slack. "you look gorgeous," he grunted. "why does patrick get the white ones?"

you sighed and placed the phone back on the desk as you finished curling your hair. "they're his favorite."

"they're my favorite too," art whined, brows contorting in a way meant to make you feel bad for him.

"liar," you huffed. "you like the blue set," you said, shooting him a glare through the screen.

"i like all of them," art complained, raising his arm so it was balanced behind his head while he watched you get ready. "can't you guys just wait until i get home?"

you finished the last ringlet of hair, examining yourself in the mirror. "you want me to go 2 more weeks without any sex?"

"well, i don't want patrick to have you all to himself."

"you get me all alone all the time, don't be selfish."

"will you at least call me? i wanna see."

your lips curled into a smile at art's blatant voyeurism. "sure," you smiled. "okay, baby, i got to go. love you!"

art responded with a kiss through the air, puckering his lips and planting them on the camera, leaving the view blurry and slobbery.

"gross," you giggled, hanging up on him and heading out your dorm.

—

patrick was incredibly horny. in fact, he had jerked off 3 times today, once to a picture of you and another the second he saw you walk into his crowded dorm room, palming himself through his pants in desperation.

he knew that the only reason you were at this grimy college party was to fuck him - causing his dick to rise even higher as he realised your tiny little skirt and perfectly curled hair was just for him. and with art out of town, it meant he got your pretty pussy all to himself. you locked eyes with him across the room, smirking at the firm position his hand had on his crotch. you tilted your head to the door after scrunching your nose at the pool of vomit that had already been released onto the floor. patrick nodded with a crooked smile, pushing himself off the bed and making his way to the door.

patrick's eyes practically crossed with need as he watched you bend over a little to grab a beer, flashing your lacy panties - his favorite set. his breath hitched in his throat, he maneuvered his way through the sweaty throng of college students towards you.

"hey, sexy," he murmured, hand immediately gravitating towards your ass as he led you towards the door. "i like your underwear. great choice."

"all for you."

patrick internally groaned at your low, purring tone, lips latching onto your neck the second you were out in the hallway of the dorms. he led you to art's dorm, only doors down from his own.

you let patrick slip off your skirt, watching his eyes turn pure black as he surveys your bottoms hungrily. you fumbled with his belt buckle as he ripped off your shirt, lips locking with his sloppily. your panties stayed on even when patrick's fully erect cock came springing out of his boxers. patrick's mouth travelled down your torso, nipping and sucking at your tits before moving down to your thighs.

"wait," you panted. patrick looked up at you with furrowed brows. "i told art i'd call him."

"call him later," patrick huffed, going back to attacking your thighs, marking the soft flesh with love bites.

"no, i told him i'd call him now."

patrick groaned loudly and pushed himself off the bed, searching through your discarded clothes for your phone. "here," he growled as he tossed it you. as you fumbled with the screen, tapping on art's name, patrick pulled your panties off and latched his mouth onto your cunt with fervor.

art picked up immediately, and you angled the camera so he could see patrick in between your legs, sucking and tugging on your clit, eliciting loud moans from you.

"fuck," art said lowly. patrick looked up at the phone with a deathly glare. you got the hint, moving the phone away from your face and balancing it on the side table near your head so you could see art and he could - very clearly - see the two of you.

patrick could see your face now too, and he took immense satisfaction in the way your mouth hung open and your eyes fluttered as he pleasured your pretty little pussy with his tongue. you shuddered under his mouth, reaching out to tug at his hair. his hips rutted against the bed in an attempt to ignore his own erection, because he won't even think about fucking you until you've cum on his tongue.

art watched through the phone, eyes low and burning with jealousy as he watched his favorite boy eat out his favorite girl. he clenched his jaw while he slowly pumped at his dick, saving his orgasm for when the real action started.

patrick began to suck and lick and swirl faster when he felt your legs clench around his head. "shitttt, patrick," you moaned almost pornographically, whiny and loud. "please, please, please, please," you whined, fingers tangled in his hair and head thrown back against the headboard.

you didn't even have to voice that you were finishing, because patrick knew - from the way your thighs shuddered and your cunt began to tighten around his tongue. art knew too - as he watched your eyes begin to cross and moans became louder and louder. once patrick's chin was slick with your release, tip of his nose shiny, he lined his throbbing cock up with your entrance.

you were still completely fucked-out, eyes fluttering open and closed while you panted heavily. as patrick spat on his hand and ran it painstakingly slow down his length, you glanced up at the phone, taking in art's dick, which was out in all its glory. his tip was glossy with pre-cum and he was still slowly jerking himself off. he gave you a crooked grin as he watched your eyes travel towards him. "focus on patrick, baby. he's got you all to himself today."

you nodded compliantly, shifting your gaze to the massive cock that was brushing your entry. "need it real bad, pat," you whined, rutting your hips so you could feel the tip on you.

"you're gonna get it, baby. be patient," he looked up at the phone, making eye contact with art and shaking his head. "look at our girl, art. being so needy."

art hummed in agreement as patrick reached out for a condom, making a visible (and slow) display of the way he stretched it over his cock. he teased your cunt with a finger, pushing back your folds and smiling as he examined the slick hole. "turn around," patrick commanded, watching you with low eyes as you turned onto your belly, sticking your ass up into the air and looking back at him expectantly.

"pleaseeee," you whimpered.

patrick couldn't resist, and he grabbed you by the hips to line himself up just right. with one fluid movement, he snapped his hips against your ass and plunged his cock inside you, making you moan loudly. his thrusts were deep and frantic as slapping sounds filled the air, making art practically salivate.

he felt as if he was watching porn - the way you cried out so erotically, and the intense motions of patrick's hips. your ass stuck up in the air perfectly rounded, and he was pissed at the fact he didn't have the view patrick did, positioned behind you. his hands began to quicken on his dick at the sight of your breasts bouncing up and down against the mattress as patrick relentlessly pounded into you.

as if hearing his thoughts, patrick reached out to grab the phone, flipping the camera so he could see your beautiful cunt, all filled up with patrick. art's breathing quickened, moaning loud enough for you to hear. you snapped your head back, flashing him a large smile and sticking your tongue out. maybe you were a pornstar in another life or something, because holy shit. art and patrick both groaned at the sight and patrick's pace inside you began to quicken.

unable to hold it in any longer, he placed art back on the side table and thrust into you even more passionately than before, hard enough that you could feel it in your fucking stomach. art was moaning too, right along with you and patrick, furiously stroking at his dick. all three of you seemed to come at once - you squirting all over patrick's cock, art shooting ropes of cum all over his hands and the phone, and patrick (unfortunately contained within the condom) releasing inside you with a loud keening sound.

"that was very hot, you two," art praised, panting.

"thanks," patrick replied, still buried inside you. "it's gonna have to happen again, 'cause there is no way i'm going another two weeks without this."

¡! ❞ © sstargirln 2024

[dietcokegirly12]

“Trapped”

featuring edgar allen poe ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა

············ ✎ᝰ‧₊˚⋅📃˚ ｡············ ✎ᝰ‧₊˚⋅📃˚ ｡············ ✎ᝰ‧₊

art credit: @komrsat3

············ ✎ᝰ‧₊˚⋅📃˚ ｡············ ✎ᝰ‧₊˚⋅📃˚ ｡············ ✎ᝰ‧₊

tags: mention of murder, teasing, submissive poe!, handjob, blowjob, suggestiveness, premature ejaculation, def others!!

word count: 2.3k ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

NOTE: Poe's special ability is called Black Cat in the Rue Morgue, and allows him to transport readers into the settings of any novel he's written :3

KINKTOBER OCT. 19 ꒷︶꒷꒥꒷

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

As a member of the Armed Detective Agency, you had always caught glimpses of Poe coming by the office, or helping with a mission, but you had never spoken to him face-to-face.

Until today.

He had come by to drop off his latest mystery novel to Ranpo, and you had heard him coming through the Agency's doors. Unfortunately for him, Ranpo was not here.

“Ranpo..? Ranpo where are you?”

You heard the raven-haired man outside, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he searched the unfamiliar office for his friend.

You’d always known Poe had trouble speaking to others, especially ones whom he wasn't well-acquainted with, and so you decided to take pity on him, opening the door of your office to reveal the tall man before you.

“Poe? He’s not here.”

He startles, almost dropping his multiple books on the floor, fumbling with them as he turns to face you, his raccoon, Karl perched on his shoulders.

You giggle softly at his awkwardness. You had always found Poe to be quite endearing, with his nervous hands and fidgetiness. It had deeply intrigued you, as a person who was always still, and confident in your own abilities.

"Here let me help you..."

You quickly reach out to grab a book from him, the warmth of your fingers brushing his accidentally.

He instantly jolts, his face reddening, his hands fumbling and dropping all of the books on the floor. "Oh no.." he mumbles, his face flushing.

"It's okay I got..."

"No!" He yells, much to your surprise as you flinch, but it's too late, book open in your hands, the pages beginning to flip on their own, as bright light flashes from the book, illuminating you in white, celestial power. The light flashes so bright, it blinds you and you close your eyes with a scream.

꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・┄┄┄┄꒰꒰・┄┄┄┄・♡・

When you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a completely strange and foreign location. There's bookshelves adorning every wall, and golden light glimmers off of ethereal chandeliers, hanging elegantly off the ceilings. Everything is neat, and orderly, and as you gaze about, disoriented, you suddenly notice Poe beside you.

He groans softly, covering his eyes with his long fingers, grimacing. Looking up and seeing you next to him, he flushes with embarrassment and mumbles softly, "We got accidentally transported into my novel."

It suddenly clicks: the book falling open, Poe yelling, the bright light, the unfamiliar surroundings. You were in his book.

Beginning to panic, you turn to him. "Can we get out?"

He nods quickly, standing up to look around. "Yes, of course, after we solve the mystery that I created."

You brighten. "Oh! Well, that should be easy considering you're the writer."

He blushes. "Yes, well there's one minor problem."

You tilt your head, a frown crossing your features.

"Since I wrote it, I can't get us back out. It has to be you who solves it, or it won't work."

You pause, turning back. "Me?! But I'm not a master detective like Ranpo, or a genius like you!"

He flushes at the praise, rubbing his neck nervously. "Well I wouldn't say that... I know you can figure it out. At least I hope so, or we'll be stuck here until you do."

Resisting the urge to let terror overwhelm you at the thought this was all up to you, you furrow your eyebrows, trying to clear your mind and focus. "Okay. Well, how would I go about solving it?"

He clears his throat, looking around. "Well first, you'd have to analyze the surroundings, and figure out exactly what the mystery is. Then, you piece together evidence to solve it, and once you figure it out, simply say it aloud and we get transported back."

You nod, getting up with a sigh. "Well, I better start looking."

｡ﾟ─── ୨♡୧｡ﾟ─── ୨♡୧ ﾟ─── ୨♡୧ ﾟ──

It's hours later, and you still have no idea how to escape. The plot of the novel was basically that you are trapped in a library, all alone, and you find a body. It's bloody, with slits across the throat, and a wound daggering straight into the chest, and there's virtually no one else in the novel, or at least that's what you're meant to believe. The killer is somewhere on the loose, and you have to find out who it is before it becomes too late.

But you had no leads, no clues whatsoever, and Poe couldn't help you, being the author, so he was simply nervously trailing behind you like a puppy.

Walking back over to the bookshelf the corpse is slumped against, you examine it for what seems like the hundredth time.

"Hmmm, the wound is a clean shot through the heart's artery, and there doesn't seem to be any sign of a struggle. I can't figure it out!" You're completely lost, and Poe is no help, simply watching you quietly.

The only items you had on your person were a knife and a feather, and you doubted they meant anything as the killer was still out there somewhere, so they were practically useless in your pocket.

Sitting down with a huff, you're about ready to give up, before Poe crouches beside you.

"I know it's hard. I wrote it that way on purpose. But you just have to think logically, and it will come to you."

Miserably, you lift your head to look at him, his expression tender.

It's just then that you notice beside him, on a bookshelf, a knife, clearly the murder weapon, covered in blood, glinting dangerously by the light of the nearby candles.

Excitedly, you reach over, across Poe's lap, brushing against him as you grab it, already beginning to analyze the weapon.

"Poe! Look, a clue!" You turn it over eagerly in your hands, studying it as you try to figure out the origins of the gleaming silver.

When you hear nothing but soft exhales next to you, a bit louder than before, you glance over, only to see Poe, eyes blown slightly wide, and lips parted, his legs spread, and a tent beginning to form in his pants.

It's just then that you realize, when you had reached for the knife, you must've accidentally brushed against his lower area.

You can't say you were surprised that he found you attractive enough to be aroused by you, already having a hunch that was the reason he always acted strange when he was around you. So it's only natural that you want to tease him, and push him a bit further.

I mean, if you were trapped in a book with him for who knows how much longer, might as well make the most of it, right?

"Poe... is this why you're always blushing when you're around me?" you smirk, leaning closer to him.

He swallows, trying to back up, the tent in his pants only swelling. "F-fuck. No. No."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really? Because this tells a different story." Gently, you brush your hand across his bulge, his eyes practically rolling back, as a soft whimper leaves his throat.

You smile at the confirmation, this time sliding your fingers over and wrapping them around the prominence in his pants.

His eyes flutter shut, as a groan falls from his lips, hips automatically thrusting up further into your touch.

"Want me to go further, Poe?" You squeeze slightly around his length, and he practically chokes, sputtering a soft, "Yes."

Before you do, your hand slightly tightens around the bulge as you crash your lips to his, his lips parting as he lets you take control, his lips uncoordinated and awkward against yours as he tries to kiss you back. He clearly doesn't have experience, and you're all too happy to teach him, guiding your tongue along his mouth and tilting your head to deepen it, brushing the seams of his soft lips as you move your mouth on his.

Breaking apart with strings of drool connecting you, his head falls back as you quickly unzip his pants, his cock slapping against his tummy, flushed a pretty pink, and already leaking lots of precum.

You bite your lip softly, suppressing a moan at the sight. You never knew the shy, awkward guy would have such a monster in his pants.

It wasn't extremely thick, but made up for it in length, reaching all the way up his stomach, and pointed into a delicate cupid's arrow at the tip, more precum beading out as the seconds went on.

You take him into your hand, tightening around his velvety length and stroking all the way upward once, before without warning, warm, white ropes of cum spurt out all over your hand, some of it seeping down his stomach.

Your hand tightens, and you marvel at how fast he came, obviously very eager to finally be touched by you. "Poe.." You breathe, watching the way his eyelashes flutter, his chest rising and falling rapidly, still trying to come down from his high.

His eyebrows furrow, and he opens his mouth, stammering an awkward apology. "Fuck sorry I didn't mean..."

But before he can finish, you bend to take him into your mouth, Poe unaware of the change in position as he has his eyes closed tightly in embarrassment.

You swirl your tongue around his tip, licking off all the salty-sweet cum still dribbling out, and carefully guide him deeper into the warmth of your throat.

His eyes fly open, and he twitches in your mouth with a gasp, as he instinctively rocks into you. "O-oh, fuck! You don't have to.."

You smile, pulling back slightly as you suppress laughter. "It's okay, Poe. Let me clean you up. It's my fault you're like this in the first place, and it's my fault we're even in this novel. Guess I should keep my hands to myself, huh?"

Barely breathing, he looks down at you, already close again, but determined not to make a fool of himself for the second time.

You blow cool air onto his sensitive tip, before taking almost all of him into your mouth with a muffled moan, your eyes watering as you try not to gag. He jerks forward, panting softly as he tries to resist the urge to push your head further.

You take as much of him as you can, your hand slowly moving up and down on the rest that doesn't fit. Drool leaks from the corners of your lips, and tears begin welling up from the sheer size of him as you whimper around his pulsing length.

He grunts softly, his hips shifting up slightly back and forth in experimental thrusts, pushing himself deeper. You let him, hollowing your cheeks as he moves in and out, causing him to stutter slightly, gasping.

His hands gently come down to your head, slowly beginning to push you up and down and you sputter, choking slightly as you try to adjust, eager to please him as you greedily take every inch he grants you.

Teasingly, you wriggle your ass in the air from where you're on all fours, bent with his cock stuffed in his mouth and he groans at the sight, his thrusts into your mouth getting sloppier.

You can tell he's close, so you let him get rougher with you, forcing himself further, and picking up the pace, bruising the back of your throat with his relentless movements.

With one last thrust into your mouth, he's coming again, spurts of it shooting down your throat and filling up your cheeks. You swallow, the taste of him overwhelming your senses as you pull away, watching him gasp for breath, his cheeks red and hair mussed up.

You wipe your mouth, a smug grin on your face as you lean back to watch, your head tilting at the sight of him trying to collect himself.

"That was.. I.." Poe breathes heavily, searching for words as he stares at you, still disbelieving that someone like you would want to do that with him.

You laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, this time more tender, your lips brushing against his gently as the heat of your mouth envelops him. As you start to deepen it, shifting to straddle his hips, and pressing your face closer, trying to cover him with your body, your wandering hands suddenly brush against something behind him that's wet and sticky.

Drawing back, you discover your hand had touched the forgotten, bloody knife behind you, and as you lift it to inspect it again, you realize there's something about it that was so familiar.

Poe's hand comes over to brush against your thigh, trying to get your attention back on him again, and it's then that you realize that his hand should be brushing along the bulge in your pocket where the knife you had begun with should've been. But it's empty.

Glancing back at the weapon in your hand, you finally realize. The knife used for the murder was the same knife that had been in your pocket.

"It's me! The killer is the reader!" You gasp, realization hitting you like a brick in the face as you stare incredulously at Poe.

A flash of white light similar to the one that transported you in, flares up, and after you open your eyes, you find yourself in the real world again, beside Poe in the Detective Agency office.

You look around in excitement, turning to beam at him. "I did it! I figured out the mystery!"

Poe smiles back, pushing hair out of his face as he tries to adjust himself, and hide how impossibly hard he was again. "See, I knew you could do it."

This doesn't go unnoticed by you though, your eyes dropping to his lap as you quickly straddle him again, desperate to feel him pressing under you. Leaning forward, you ghost your lips above his. "Now.. where were we?"

tagslist: (ask to be tagged!) @kissesmellow21 @rosebluuod @sakui1 @sayyestoheaven00 @snowsilver2000

[vampirzina]

Hii :) I really liked what you wrote about fujin and reptiles with a pierced reader. Can I request something similar? Bi-han and Tomas with a reader who has pierced nipples. You don't have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable!

tw: gn pronouns, nsfw, mdni (!), established relationship, piercings and the like, afab reader

notes: two of my faves actually so yes i will! i heart them. i apologize if this is lackluster in any way

masterlist : lace divider

Bi Han’s so needy in his manhandling of your clothes at the time that he doesn’t even feel them. He’d been watching you like a hawk. Week after week you’ve been working him up to this moment, and bless intuition, you knew to shed your bra as soon as you escaped behind the wall that led to your room. No sooner were he there after you. You shed your shirt for him as he fumbles with your pants—and he’d have to double take. You dare him with playful eyes to touch, yet he has enough depleting restraint left to wait; you squeal when he practically rips your pants off of you now.

Bi Han’s second favorite place to mark you now is your breasts. Whether it be with his teeth to leave a few bite marks and hickeys, or cum—he makes sure that your pierced nipples pert from his cold touch are not neglected by time he’s finished with you. However, if they’re sore, he’ll comply and leave them alone for now but he recommends that you both do something to fix that problem if you can. He’s willing to be patient if you say there’s nothing to do but wait.

It’s unsaid, but Bi Han likes when you don’t wear your bra around him much more often than you think. It drives him a little crazy to feel them harden when he brushes his fingers over the piercing, and your soft mewl when he applies just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm in his lap. It frustrates him when you work him up far enough.

ᝰ

You giggled, moving his hand that snuck around your back from your breast. “Stop it. Just work.”

Bi Han grunted, nearly slapping the pen out of your hand when you picked it up to hand it to him—tauntingly, you both knew. You have to know what you’re doing, don’t you?

“Oh, my god. I just sat down on my spot and now you want me bent over,” you feigned total innocence, bracing a palm flat on his chest while your arm is hooked around his neck. “I think I’m going to leave you to do your work. There’s a lot to do, right?”

You only so much so leaned outward, and Bi Han is holding onto you for dear life. It makes you call his name in sheer tease—what has gotten into him?

You ask that, but when he shifts you further onto his lap, you feel the product of your teasing prodding at your damp cunt.

Bi Han’s grip goes from your hip to your tit to give it a good squeeze, and to stabilize you as he swiftly shoves his clothed and rock-hard dick impossibly closer to your core. You let out a gasp to his strained grunt.

“Stay and fix this,” he huffed. “An order.”

────

Bi Han warms his hands under your shirt these days.

Guide Tomas’ hands to feel them, and he’s completely hard on the spot. He doesn’t really asks questions about something he found incredibly hot, lest you think he doesn’t like them. After letting him touch, don’t expect him to let go—he spends an extraordinary amount of attention on them, whether it be with his fingers drenched from your slick or mouth. Despite that, it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy leaving hickey there, but he prefers leaving them on your thighs. Touch is already a big thing for Tomas, so god forbid if you tease him by not letting him touch you where he so obviously wants to.

You have to remind Tomas where your eyes are. Even in a completely innocent setting, when he’s not in the right state of mind in the moment and trying to make it through the day so that he could run home with/to you. His face flushes when you say the cliche line to him, and he meekly apologizes. Tomas can’t help himself—he loves to look. To him, they’re beautiful.

Tomas loves when you surprise him with different types of piercing jewelry on your breasts. He knows you don’t ask, but he tells you what he thinks of them (you appreciate it anyway). If you ask him his favorite, ideally it’s any, but it’s mostly the ones with jewels and hearts; to him, he says, brings so much attention to them from any angle.

ᝰ

Mouth completely ruined from eating you out, Tomas drags warm tongue kisses from your worn pussy up to your pierced breasts; all while maintaining eye contact. You whimper.

“These,” his hands come up to cup the underside of your tits. Tomas presses them together as far as they could go—and in a moment of great unserious-ness from him—shoves his faces into them and lets out a low moan. His thumbs press gently the piercing into the flesh cushioning them.

“All I think about coming home to,” Tomas is muffled but you hear him clearly. “All day.”

You giggle. “Well, they’re yours to use if you love them so much.”

Tomas looks up at you from your sternum. He seems surprised at your offer; were they really? His face is red and his steel eyes are mulled over in a deep lustful haze, but he’s staring at you to gage your sincerity, and you can tell.

“I mean it, Tommy,” your hands, although the tips of them ache from gripping the sheets too tight just moments ago, find his. “Except for when they’re sore, though. They ache enough then.”

Tomas lets out a sigh, lifting his face to lie a tender kiss on the both of them. He’s coming down from the high from feeling of you to even properly express his thanks to you, but you know he has nothing but gratitude.

────

Tomas’ favorite angle is underneath you, where he can see the piercing frame your beautiful face.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info

[laceyfilms]

bad idea right ?! — s.jy

007. dawg fumbled

warnings ᝰ none idt? besides the normal swearing & yn's group being haters.

previous » masterlist » next

taglist » @17ericas @jiiyen @pshbites @hoonieyun @saeivra @mitmit01 @rairaiblog @sirens-dreams @dreamiestay @heartheejake @sumzysworld @jayhoonvroom @manuosorioh @en-verse @belovedsthings @heesangs-blog @miszes @sxnmavi @honeybelleee @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @victoriasimm @tkooooop @breadlover01 @ikeulove

[kyrowmee]

ᝰ dying out.

note. no thoughts, short scenario + tw. break-ups & endings, toxic relationship, love died out, onesided love? — no fluff/comfort. just pure angst + scaramouche. an old piece of mine that never made the cut. HEAVILY SELF-INDULGENT!! modern au?

The silence was deafening, although you were sitting next to each other since a long time apart—It feels like he's ever the more farther. as if you were strangers. It felt like you haven't talked in months to the point that, you don't know each other like before—No, it was like you didn't know him anymore.

How long — Has always been on your mind these days, echoing at the back of your head as another voice to listen to when dawn falls.

How long has it been since he last held your hand? How long has it been since he'd tell you the sweetest words, cooing the preaches of his love - how long has it been since he last told you, 'I love you'?

Perhaps a long time, when you cant seem to remember it anymore.

All you can remember are the bleak days of when he'd leave you to months to no end. The reassurances turning into arguments - petty reasons, and the worst part of it all, he makes it feel like YOURE the one at fault. He leaves you, alone in your shared room - letting the ringing silence of guilt eat you up until YOURE the one who apologizes.

How long - How long since he last looked at you? with those loving eyes of him once filled with so much warmth, You wait for him through every night, throughout your relationship you thought he'd be the one. Through every text messages, unread and ghosted - through all the preplanned dates moved just for him.

But for waiting as long as you have, is it worth the wait?

.. How long did you have to wait?

"Kuni-..Kunikuzushi." you call his name even if it feels unfamiliar and bitter rolling off your tongue, no longer calling him the terms of endearment that you both used to go by - because the love had already died out long ago. This was enough.. a mutual want to end it all.

You thought of yourself as a patient person, you could wait. You would always tell yourself during the late nights alone. You can adjust, You can be his greater part, is what you'd tell yourself when you're the one who reconciles with him.

But everyone has limits.

You choke out the words, fumbling with them with the nibbling of your lower lip as you think of what to say, - No, you didn't have to think really. It's obvious what you needed to say and what you wanted to say.

-'Lets Break Up.' Is what's stuck in your throat, clawing like a numbing feeling of abyss staring down at you and the years of your relationship going down the drain, and you can't find the courage to say it.

Not when you still wanted him. Not when you still wanted this.

There was a moment of silence before you talk again, glancing up at him from the corner of your eyes and he doesn't even look at you - Hell, he was doing everything to not look at you by looking at all the passerby that had walked past with more interest he'd ever had for you. That's when you knew - it was like a confirmation that you needed to just say it, there was no going back now.

"Do you.. still love me?" you stare up at him, resorting to other words to term it and it slips from your lips instead of the three words you were trying so hard to say. Cursing yourself in your head because you knew the answer all too well and you knew you were just asking for more pain. You knew it, because the first thing he'd do since getting here - was redirecting his attention to anything and everything that wasn't you.

"Do you really want an answer to that?" You stay silent for a moment, like a domino effect all the words get stuck in your throat and your breath hitches, the pain that flashes in your eyes and the sharp pang reverberating in your chest at the silent answer you knew all to well - But you wanted him to say it. you just hoped, perhaps..

But it was all in vain. Why were you just wasting your time with someone who never even wished to be here?

The fickle confidence that you gathered through the months he left you alone with your thoughts and this withering relationship, for the words to end it all - shatters in the palm of his hands like a fleeting breeze.

Right. Why would you ever work out?

He was always the sun, and you were the never changing moon.

Like the cycle, your relationship goes out like a dim flame of the sun setting upon the horizon.

Ironic that the sun really was setting at this moment and you smile up at him - one that doesn't reach your eyes, 

"The sunset looks beautiful, doesn't it?"

There wasn't any hope, its for the better for us both.

[issysh3ll]

hey why the fuck does chris keep fumbling though like that man has no rizz

He has rizz he just gets nervous around reader bc his body gets all tingly and he’s not used to it

[issysh3ll]

Coming soon!

and yes this part does have smut! 🥳

Find full series -> here

[issysh3ll]

Fumble is my favourite series ever. I love watching Chris mess up so many times 🤗 is there going to be a part 5?

haha thank you!

yes part 5 is ready (it does have smut) but i'm going to give part 4 a bit longer to grow before i post it

in the meantime feel free to send in asks about this universe!

[issysh3ll]

PART 5 HAS SMUT OMG AHSKSNSNSN

Yes ma’am

[issysh3ll]

fumble making it on the BEST fluff of the year is making my entire year actually

I was so excited to be nominated for something! I definitely wasn’t expecting it

although tbh I wouldn’t really consider fumble to be fluff but still extremely grateful that people enjoyed it enough to vote for it!

[issysh3ll]

fumble part 6 is a need im addicted. also your writing is so fucking good it’s insane!!

AAAAHHH thank you!!

Idk when part 6 will come out bc im working on a request for fumble at the moment

[issysh3ll]

hey i’m just hear to beg you to write more fumble chris i NEED IT

Yk what? Maybe I will… any requests?

[sstargirln]

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ variety

art donaldson x fem!reader

TW: smut MDNI - p in v, oral m receiving - infidelity, art is a little bit of a perv, derogatory language

word count: 2047

¡! ❞ a/n: bold = art's thoughts!

art knew it was wrong. he knew it was wrong when his eyes tracked your body with every stretch, every jump, when his dick began to rise as he watched you play, when he caught himself thinking of you while fucking his wife.

he knew it was all so, so, so wrong.

but yet, when you came up to him, after winning his match at the tournament the two of you were playing at, asking if he coached (he didn't), he found himself blurting out a desperate and high-pitched "yes!"

you raised your eyebrows slightly at his tone, but smiled brightly nonetheless. "great!" you responded, looking up at him through your lashes. "i'm gonna try out for the olympics, sooo. i need a really good coach."

i'm not a coach. tashi's a great coach, art thought. my wife, she's a great coach.

"well, i'm a great coach!" art assured you. why did i say that? "at least, that's what, um, they tell me." who's they? shit, just shut up. he clamped his mouth shut.

"good," you nodded. "here's my number. just text me your availability." you fumbled with your purse, producing a wrinkled piece of paper with your phone number scrawled on it.

"will do," art answered, curt, dry, and professional so he wouldn't say anything too stupid like i'm super infatuated with you and i was staring at your tits the whole time you were talking and i want to bend you over and fuck your brains out every single time you make eye contact with me. or something along those lines.

you smiled again, flashing your perfect teeth before turning around on your heels and flouncing out of the court, leaving art standing there, jaw slightly agape as he watched your hips sway. he felt a tent begin to form in his pants and he cursed under his breath.

✮✮✮

"i'm so fucked." art downed another shot of vodka, slamming the glass down on the chipped wood veneer of the bar. "she's got, like, fucking pornstar tits, pat! it's so crazy."

patrick sat on the barstool next to him, cigarette dangling from his lips and fingers tapping a rhythm onto the bar. "and you're not gonna do anything about it?"

art looked at him with a look of disbelief, brows furrowed and lip captured by his front teeth. "obviously not! i have a wife."

"well, that's clearly not stopping you from thinking about her pornstar tits."

art sighed loudly, leg bouncing on the stool. "nothing wrong with having a little crush." he definitely wasn't thinking about how you'd look under him, pinned against the mattress of his fancy hotel room, eyes crossed, mouth agape, yelling his name. definitely not.

" 's long as you don't fuck her at your little private sesh," patrick sang, taking a long drag of the cigarette. art shot him a glare. "i'm not even discouraging it, bud. i think it'd be good for you."

"cheating on my wife would be good for me?"

"variety feels good," patrick said, passing him the cigarette. art took it gratefully, bringing it up to his lips and inhaling deeply. the two boys sat in silence for a few seconds, art surveying the dingy bar and patrick surveying the group of girls in the corner.

"i think i should tell her i don't coach."

"i think you should have sex with her."

✮✮✮

the day of your first private practice, art was wracked with emotion — mostly lust.

the night before, he called your number, almost creaming right then and there when your voice rang out, soft and sweet, exclaiming his name. he was perched on the bathtub of him and tashi's hotel room, afraid that simply talking to you was infidelious, and that any moment, tashi would burst in and just divorce him on the spot. but the conversation went smoothly, and the next morning, art was stumbling out to a private court, racket and a bucket of tennis balls in hand.

you were already there when he arrived at the court, dressed in a white tennis skirt and black tank, stretching your legs. you smiled when you saw art and bounced up to your feet. "you're late," you quipped.

"a little," art responded, already flustered. "sorry." he gave you a crooked smile.

you smiled back and beckoned him over to where you had been stretching. a notebook sat flipped open on the ground, and you bent over to pick it up, skirt hitching up high enough that art could see the beginnings of blue lace panties.

fuck.

"i watched over the recording of my match yesterday," you explained, handing him the notebook, which was filled with pretty handwriting and tennis diagrams. "my boyfriend and i just kind of wrote down everything we thought i needed to work on."

art didn't hear anything else you said after boyfriend. 'course she has a boyfriend. why wouldn't she? he nodded anyway, distracted by the light brush of your arm against his hand as you pointed out different things on the page. he can smell your shampoo. the scent of your perfume invades his senses, making him feel a little dizzy.

you looked up at him as you finished explaining, grin widening at the expression on his face. he was staring straight at you, eyes slightly glossy and breathing slow. you had him right where you wanted him.

"art?"

"yeah, sounds great!" art's voice was strained, and he blinked quickly to focus back in on your voice, which was now detailing how much time the two of you had to work.

two hours. that's all. c'mon, you can get through that without a boner.

✮✮✮

no he could not. the way you moved on the court, combined with your little squeals every time you hit the ball, combined with your tiny little skirt, combined with the grin you were flashing him, combined with you just being you, made his dick strain against his pants as he watched you from the bleachers, hitting balls into the wall.

"try to, um, keep your knees bent a little more." he was trying to coach, imitating the way tashi would talk to him when they were on the court. he barked commands that didn't really mean much and drew diagrams on the book that looked less like people and more like limp noodles.

you didn't really need the coaching — you were a beautiful player, fast and relentless with perfect technique. but you wanted art there, wanted to feel his gaze burning into your ass, or your tits, or the curve of your spine while you hit the tennis balls with amazing accuracy. he hadn't seemed to notice that you didn't need his help, because he continued to order you around in a tone that made your thighs clench and your panties soak.

after an hour, art joined you on the court, expression neutral but eyes still trained on your chest as you played a couple of sets. you kept making low eye contact with him, and it was driving him crazy.

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

your skirt flipped up as you jumped to the side for the ball, flashing him a gorgeous view of your underwear. it flew up again, and you seemingly didn't notice as you bent over to grab another ball. art noticed. he also noticed the prominent wet patch that was forming around your entrance, making his breath hitch in his throat yet again.

she's wet. for me?

you continued to play, but art was distracted, faulting again and again. "are you okay, art?" you called from across the court, noticing his troubled expression.

art nodded and replied with a pained smile, holding up a thumb.

"your serve."

✮✮✮

after your practice, you made your way back to the locker rooms. you were chattering about technique, taking great pleasure in the way art was looking at you, pupils blown and eyes low.

you split at the entrance, art making his way to the men's showers and you to the women's. "shit," you muttered, looking up at the big CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE sign.

art was just standing under the water, letting the cold hit his skin as if to rid him of the thoughts he was having and the absolute raging desire that coursed through him. he jumped when he heard the creak of another shower knob turn behind him.

you were already undressed, and the sight of the perfect tits art had been dreaming about bare made him dizzy. you gave him a crooked little frown. "women's showers are closed. hope you don't mind."

art shook his head slowly, eyes locked on your figure. "not at all."

fuck this.

he couldn't contain himself any longer. he sprung at you, grabbing you by the hips and latching his lips onto yours as water continued to cascade over the two of you. you reciprocated the kiss sloppily, hands roaming over his toned skin as your tongues tangled.

you didn't really care, but you felt like you had to say something to protest, make up some type of excuse that made you seem like a little less of a bad person. "we really shouldn't," you panted, pulling away. "you have a wife."

"you have a boyfriend," art spat, hands still freely exploring your chest. "an' that didn't stop you from being a little slut back at the court." art's words were stinging, because this was all your fault. how was he supposed to focus on his wife when you were here, so beautiful and willing?

that was all you needed to kiss him again, nodding and swirling your tongue against his. art continued to grope at your tits, pinching and pulling at your nipples. you glanced down at his dick, which was brick-hard and glistening under the water. dropping to your knees, you tease his tip with soft, sloppy kisses, making him buck his hips against your mouth.

slowly, you took his dick down your mouth, sucking at the tip hard enough to elicit a low groan from the man. up and down up and down up and down on his dick went your mouth, your pace quickening as his hands reached down to grip onto your hair. "shit, love," he grunted, snapping his hips so he was fucking your throat, causing tears to spring into your eyes. you had never looked more beautiful in art's eyes, sopping wet, mascara smudged and hair sticking to your face in little ringlets. he continued to shove his cock down your throat despite the little gagging sounds you were making. with each thrust, his moans grew louder, his fingers tangling in your hair. finally, he pulled out of your mouth with a pop!, spurting cum all over your face and some into your open mouth.

"turn around."

you turned your body so you were flush against the wall, ass sticking up and chest pressed up against the cold tile. art surveying your folds, unable to tell if the sopping entrance was covered in just water or arousal too. either way, it served as the perfect lubricant, allowing his cock to slip right into you, making you arch your back against him. the moans slipping past your lips were practically pornographic as he rammed into you hard enough that you could feel the bulge in your belly. art grunted with each snapping movement of his hips. "fuck," he hissed lowly, the feeling of your beautiful, tight little pussy around his cock so good he heard himself whimper.

your whole body moved as he pounded into you feverishly, hands slipping against the wall as you tried to stabilize yourself. your pussy clenched around him, legs shuddering as your release rushed through your body like an avalanche of pleasure. you glanced back at him, taking in the way his eyes fluttered and his mouth shook. "does tashi feel as good as i do?"

and that was it. 8 words that threw him right over the edge, spurting into you with fervor. infidelity shouldn't turn him on this much, shouldn't feel so fucking good. but it did.

and when he stumbled back to the hotel room, pecking tashi lightly on the lips, cock still throbbing, he thought to himself — patrick was right, variety felt amazing.

¡! ❞ © niya-writesshit 2024

[sstargirln]

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ  the teenage years . . . art and patrick

¡! ❞ a/n: i TO-TA-LLY stole art's little intro bit from @angeldressedasindigo ur writng is so stunning it inspired me queen

—

art had dreaded going to mark rebellato. dreaded leaving behind all that was safe and warm – the comfort of his grandmother's house, the only place where he could breathe easy, where he could pretend that maybe, just maybe, he was worthy of something. he dreaded leaving her, the one person that had quenched his constant thirst to belong. to love – to be loved. 

he didn’t think he’d ever belong at mark reballato. he knew he wouldn’t, because that’s just the kind of person he was. the kind who was weird and socially awkward, who fumbled his way through conversations, who turned too red in the face when he tried to talk. . . in his eyes at least. the kind who didn’t deserve the unconditional love his grandmother gave him, or the scholarship that had been dropped into his hands by some twist of fate, or pity. in his eyes, he didn’t deserve any of it. 

he’s unsure. of himself, and the future, and his skills. 

patrick knew he was going to rebellato. of course he was, why wouldn’t he? tennis was the one thing he’d ever truly excelled in as a pre-teen, the one thing that his father made sure to invest time, money, and endless resources into. lots and lots of money. 

the one thing that had earned him recognition, even if he was only good in that effortless, lazy way—where his talent seemed to just happen— that irritated everyone wiho took the sport serious. it made his private coaches scoff, his opponents fume at the way he made them work for every point without him breaking a sweat, and his dad sniffle disapprovingly into his embroidered zweig handkerchief. 

but tennis was never enough for patrick. it had never been. it was something he’d been good at because it was the only thing he had to be good at. the sport was a ticket to attention his father had handed him on a silver platter, something that made him feel seen, even if it was always more about the image than the actual love for the game. there was no passion in it for patrick—just debilitating self-confidence. 

so yes, his entrance to rebellato was inevitable. he packed his bags days before it was time to leave.

—

they met while waiting outside the principal’s office. the bench they were sitting on was double sided, a wooden structure with a tall back that their pubescent heads barely brushed the top of. other boys were saying their goodbye with their parents in the hall, lined up against the wall as they snuggled into their mothers’ arms, wrapped their hands around their father’s waists. a picture of warmth.

art’s grandma hadn’t been able to make the trip up with him. his mom drove away the second she could. 

patrick’s father sniffled when he saw the soppy scene in the hallway. the most touch he’d ever given patrick was a pat on the back, the kind of gesture that spoke volumes about how little they understood each other. when the chauffeur had finished unloading patrick’s bags, his father had nodded curtly, mumbled something about “staying focused,” and then driven off without a second glance.

patrick thinks, when he first sees art, that he looks quite pathetic. mousy, almost, the way his shoulders are hunched, and his nails are wedged in between his teeth. patrick’s lips curled into something like a smirk — not out of cruelty but because, for a moment, he feels the sting of superiority. at least he didn’t look like that. he’s never had to shrink into himself. at least he had the confidence to take up space. art, on the other hand, seemed determined to disappear.

art thinks, when he first sees patrick, that he looks like the rich douchebags he was so afraid mark rebellato would be full off. the type who would stroll around in designer clothes and talk about things art could never afford, with too much confidence and a sense of entitlement he would never understand. as if he was already too much of everything, too certain of his place in the world. art’s stomach twisted. his gaze lingered a moment too long, but when their eyes met, he quickly dropped his head.

neither of them say anything.

—

they were assigned as roommates, and then doubles partners, and then they became inseparable. joined at the hip, one might say. 

art still slept with his teddy bear, a worn-out thing with matted fur and one eye missing. 

“you still sleep with that?” patrick had said, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “what are you, five?”

art had flushed but refused to dignify the comment with a response. after all, the bear had been with him through long nights and bad dreams. what did patrick know about comfort anyway? but the teasing hadn’t stopped, patrick dropping jabs here and there, every chance he got.

after all, patrick was big now. too big for teddy bears. big enough to puff his chest and swagger through the hallways like he had something to prove. 

—

grown and big, indeed.

art heard it at two a.m. —a faint rustling, almost imperceptible at first. his eyes opened, and he turned slightly, his gaze darting toward the other side of the room.

“patrick?” he whispered, the sound barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning.

the noise stopped abruptly. the creak of a bedspring. “what?” 

art frowned, propping himself up on one elbow. “what’re you doing?”

a beat of silence. then patrick let out an exaggerated sigh, as if art were the one being weird. “nothing. go back to sleep.”

nothing didn’t sound like nothing. “seriously,” he pressed, “what are you doing?”

patrick groaned, the kind of groan that suggested he was debating whether or not to lie. finally, he muttered, “i’m . . . i'm jerking off, fuckhead.”

art blinked. 

“oh my god,” art whispered, pulling his blanket tighter around himself. “are you serious?”

“relax,” patrick hissed, more annoyed than embarrassed. “it’s not a big deal.” patrick laughed quietly, the sound infuriatingly unbothered. “i didn’t think you were awake. it’s not like I was trying to make it weird.”

“well, congratulations,” art shot back. “you did.”

patrick didn’t respond immediately, and art was sure the conversation was over until patrick said, casually, “what, like you’ve never jerked off before.” 

art flushed, even though patrick couldn’t see him in the dark. “no. and i’m not going to start now, thanks to this deeply scarring moment.”

patrick snorted. rolled onto his side with a rustle of blankets. “it’s not scarring. you’re just uptight.”

“i’m normal,” art countered. “you’re the one who’s… this.”

“what?” the room is silent again. “wanna learn?”

art had a hard time facing kat zimmerman the next morning, who was in his homeroom.

¡! ❞ © sstargirln 2024

[issysh3ll]

Chris Sturniolo Masterlist

Key: ⟢ Smut, ᡣ𐭩 Fluff, ᝰ Angst, .ᐣ Suggestive, 𑁍 Issy's Fave

。Eye Contact ⟢ Chris desperately tries to hold eye contact while u grind on his lap

。Thank You ⟢ Chris shows how grateful he is for you driving him around all day

。Power Slap 𑁍 ⟢ after the power slap show Chris decides he wants to try it out

。Sleepover ⟢ you and Chris try to fuck quietly during the group sleepover

。Lollipop ⟢ looking after Chris’s lollipop

。Reminder ᝰ.ᐟ you can't shake reminders of how it used to be

Series 。 Fumble ᝰ ᡣ𐭩 ⟢ {ongoing - asks/requests open} you run into Chris in the kitchen at 3am ⤷ Moodboard 01 02 03 04 05

P Links 。Fake Texts 。Daily Drabbles

Bots 。Friends to Lovers / Road Trip

Masterlist

© issysh3ll