kobes | au inbox; psl now

corny, english, whatever same thing nah, just trying to make you say you missed me that's all 💓

[ resting atop your pillow: a luxe, cream envelope, your name embossed in gold letters, holding a textured invitation — ]

Hi slut.

hey slut

you know an fp jones?

You left your underwear in the bathroom.
They’re cute, but not my size.

( literally unblocked for just this. )

Did you leak that tape?

Yesterday was nice.

I haven't slept that well in months.

[ q, please. ]

[the fucking irony – embry calling alvida the big bad wolf when he’s the one with his mouth against where the inescapable, irrepressible tears have koby’s lashes sticking together, starlike, grazing salt onto the almost-sweet kiss left there. almost-sweet, like the way embry hilts himself over and over, a rolling like the ocean, like a lover, like they aren’t in the middle of a couple dozen people doing the same exact thing. with his eyes teary-shut, koby doesn’t even know they aren’t alone.

because the world’s narrowed by adrenaline, by fear, by the pulse throbbing in his bared throat, beneath the bare, marked-up expanse of his chest. the neat scars bisecting his chest have new bruises, mouths and nails and hands, scattered like braille across the shuddering heave of koby’s body, his stomach, his hips, his spread thighs. he’s conscious that embry’s still mostly clothed, fucking him like a sweetheart while dressed like a man who’s going to be gone as soon as he’s emptied inside the fucked-sore grip of koby’s cunt.

maybe it’s that thought that has koby’s fingers working against nothing where they’re pinned to the couch, has him arching off the sticky-slick fabric, has the grip of his body going tighter, tighter, stomach working as he squeezes around embry’s cock inside him and shudders in a gasp for air. like – he wants to cling on, for a minute, wants the rush of endorphins and euphoria that comes when he’s getting fucked so hard he can’t see straight, but embry’s talking, talking about – ]

N-no… [he’s not sure what it’s “no” to – no, i don’t like her, no, i don’t want to tell her to fuck off because that’s actually impossible you fucking idiot, no, i don’t want you to go, all equally stupid to say, but embry’s hitting just right inside him, his mouth on koby’s when all koby can do is strain up against the grip on his wrists, hard enough to etch bruises in the shape of embry’s hands. so what comes out is still stupid, but at least it’s an answer –] No, I’ve never been to f-fucking D.C...

[but that question lingers, coaxing, smiling, hot, my what big teeth you have, and koby’s pulse is throbbing in his mouth as he chases after embry’s and he laughs and it sounds like a sob.] What the f-fuck are you talking ab-bout?

Edited 2025-07-01 03:43 (UTC)

@badsir

📨 delivery

text - un: 💋💋💋💋

@spirited

@q

@il sangre

@q

au psl | embry