19. entry made talking about a simple / normal day.
'dear diary' prompts...
[TRANSCRIPTION: so, i'd like to start this off by saying that i sometimes crave a sense of normalcy more than ever in my life... though i know that people might not expect something like that out of me. you know, because i seem so devoted to my work, i guess. but i have to say that after getting a taste of it today, it's probably when i'm at my happiest. me and jack had spent the day together, which is something we actually rarely get to do. he had told me about this crepe place that had opened up a little while ago and he seemed really eager to go there. so i invited jack to do that this morning and i swear, i hadn't seen him smile that big in a while. which did something funny to my heart.
and by that, i mean you know that feeling you get when you can't contain the love you have for someone? yeah that was pretty much what ended up happening to me; a fuzziness had hit me in the chest. but after we went there, and jack ate an impressive amount of crepes (he was really fond of the nutella and strawberry ones), my son suggested that we see this new movie that came out recently. and it was hard to pass up so of course i said yes. we snuck in some candy and drinks because, honestly, who wants to pay for the overpriced candy they have? not us so we did that and just like i expected... the theater was pretty packed since it was for the new hunger games movie. it was good though!
anyhow, after that, jack wanted to spend some time just hanging out by the water when he did something that surprised me. jack hugged me. and it was really nice, because i can't remember the last time my son gave me one like that. he went on to tell me that he missed 'this part of me.' this got me to thinking that, yeah, i have been treating him not so well for a while. so maybe i ought to change that. jack deserves to have a father who doesn't switch up on him every day, from being mean to being nice.
maybe i'll call my therapist back and tell her i want to start seeing her again. she might've said some things that i didn't like the last time, one of those being that i exhibit behaviors that are typical of sociopaths — but i guess i can make an exception for jack, because he's my little bug.
signed, barton. ]
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sitting on gojo's face.
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"can you hurry the hell up?" gojo questions, as you stare down at him through the little space between your chubby thighs.
"can you just—sit down" he continues his large hands are wrapped around your thighs, tugging weakly because both of you knew if he actually wanted you to sit he would've been able to make you do so easily.
but he wants you to do it.
he wants you to be the one to finally give in to the pleasure that's calling out to you, all you have to do is lower yourself a few inches and you could be seeing stars, could be experiencing all Satoru Gojo and his mouth has to offer.
he wants you to want to ride his face until his tongue was numb and he was sure the sweet scent of your slick would be seared into his skin.
and its not like you don't want to, its just you're scared.
what if you hurt him? you know you're not the skinniest and what if you get lost in pleasure and don't feel him struggling beneath you?
you were not going to be the reason Satoru Gojo died.
"baby—" gojo coos softly, pulling you out of your head and forcing you to look down at him once again. "you aren't going to kill me. and even if you did, I'd be okay with it because what guy wouldn’t want to go out with the sexiest girl in the world sitting on their face?"
you can't help the snort that falls from you, "shut up" you mumble, but it lacks its usual bite, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and biting it gently.
"i'm serious though, you aren't going to hurt me so would you please just sit down" this time he does pull you down, using a bit more force because he's getting tired of waiting. the instant your puffy folds make contact with his lips mouth he’s sticking his tongue out and letting it drag up and down your slit.
“mmph— fuck!” your hands fly to grab onto the headboard, tightly gripping it as gojo flicks his tongue back and forth against your clit. you attempt to lift yourself up, wanting to hover over his mouth rather that fully sitting down but the tight grip he has on your thighs keep you in place.
satoru closes his eyes in bliss, letting his mouth and tongue do all the work, licking and sucking and slurping at your cunt messily, as if it was the last meal he'd ever have, savoring the taste of your arousal on his tongue.
you feel your reservations slipping away, the pleasure bursting through your core is taking over your body and mind.
it doesn’t take long before you're fully sitting, subconsciously grinding your hips down on his face. once he's confident you won't try to lift yourself up again, he moves his hands from your thighs to your ass, spreading your cheeks and letting his thumb circle your fluttering hole, pushing it in and pulling it out.
the fears you once had are long gone and the only thing you can think about is how good satoru is making you feel;
the way he hums against your clit, knowing the vibrations drive you crazy. the way his tongue slips into your entrance and drags slowly across your velvety walls, fucking in and out of you as if it was his dick stretching you out instead, the familiar tightening in your tummy as your orgasm approaches all too quickly.
"fuck satoru, m'close" you warn him, still rubbing your pussy along his face and fuck he's close too. he's so hard underneath you, his cock weeping pathetically still confined by his boxers, and he's sure just a few more minutes of lapping at your cunt that he could probably cum untouched.
he brings his tongue back up to your clit and sucks on it harshly, wanting to push you over the edge so that he could do it all over again.
your first orgasm of the night hits you like a truck, stealing your breath as your body goes limp, your upper body falling forward as satoru laps at entrance, drinking down every drop of cum that drips from your cunt.
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I’ve been fired exactly once in my life. In my early twenties I was working at a pizza place. The pizzas were artisanal, thin crust and personal. They’re a huge chain now but when I first started the company was in its infancy. It was the wild west of management, and the core investors would frequently stop by to check on things. One of these people was this round little man with rage issues. A knock off Danny Devito with no charisma at all.
His favorite thing to do was to come in on a Friday or Saturday night. We'd be at our stations: taking orders, making pizza, manning the oven, finishing orders off, running the cash register. He'd shove his way onto the line and start rearranging people. "You, get off orders and work the cash register, you come over and make the pizzas!" With a line of customers snaking out the door he'd throw off all our grooves and rattle us.
Then, inevitably, a mistake would happen.
When it did he'd call the person over and say, "Hey c'mere. You're fired." Just like that. No inflection, just a flat "You're fired." It was absolutely a power kink, and because of his involvement the average turn over was three months. You were a veteran at five months.
One night there was only three of us manning the front. I took an order than went to the cash register to ring them out before I made the pizza. This horrible man watched that then called me into the back. I didn't know if I was about to be fired. But I wasn't. In fact, he had one other move besides firing people. He yelled.
In the back he absolutely lost his mind screaming at me for being on the cash register. I'm talking veins popping, spit flying, red with rage, this man just started bellowing nonsensically about where I should be and how I was just such a failure. It was truly like his brain had shut off, nothing he was saying even made sense. I stood there in the face of this tirade for a minute and then set a record for being the first person to ever cut him short by bursting into tears.
He instantly stopped yelling and it was like Jekyll and Hyde. He was remorseful and consoling, deeply embarrassed by my display of emotion. All my male coworkers just took the abuse but faced with my weeping he about faced and instantly backed off. I went outside to cry and when I came back in he pretended it had never happened.
That was the state of things. The investors knew they desperately needed to keep this man out of the stores, but they couldn't just give him the boot. They needed to move him aside and fill his position with someone. The store manager was this lovely woman who had hired me on the spot at my interview. The entire staff adored her. She was the best fit to get this roided out investor out of the stores for good.
Her replacement was this man called Anthony. He was instantly loathed by the entire staff. Condescending, critical, and lazy he started off his reign by letting go a core lead who "back talked." He spent a whole morning berating the opening crew because the closing crew (who had sold 100 more pizzas than we were even supposed to have on hand) had forgotten to windex the doors. He left the entire crew to close without him while he flirted with a girl who wasn't his pregnant girlfriend. He hired his roommate to replace the lead he fired and even that guy hated his guts.
Our antipathy toward him made him paranoid and resentful and one by one he started finding excuses to fire the whole staff, certain that if he could clean house he'd be able to do the job. My time came, and he sat me down with his boss, my former manager. She cried as he announced I wasn't personable enough and used too many pepperonis.
I looked at her, the woman who had trained me on how many pepperoni to use, but she said nothing. What could she say? He was the boss now and had determined I was going to be let go regardless. Too many in this case was seven. Seven pepperonis on a personal pizza. The correct number was five according to him, which is one pepperoni per slice, and one in the middle.
I sat there for a moment, taking it in. I smiled at my old manager, obviously miserable. I looked back at him and said, "You're a terrible manager, you're doing the worst imaginable job." I outlined some of the things he'd done so she could hear them, then I stood up and left. I made it to the back room before I started crying.
I found out later through a bus boy that he replaced the whole staff with college kids who had such limited availability that the store couldn't run, then quit three months later leaving the whole place in shambles. Most of the old staff returned, but I'd moved onto the sex shop already and was enjoying a job with significantly less risk of being fired on a whim.
However I do have to disclose on job applications if I've ever been fired. I always says yes and list the reason as, "Excessive use of pepperoni." It has never failed to get a laugh from my interviewer.
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