#i take my work very seriously i promise
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cupheadshowandhell · 2 years ago
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Ey congrats on 50 followers!!! (personally I think you deserve more lol, your art is so beautiful and the story you’ve got going is so so interesting and I can’t wait for more)
i meant to answer this earlier, but- THANK YOUUUUU AAAA- 💖 time to get sappy
This really means a lot to hear- I've worked REALLY hard on this story for a very long time now. The blog's a little over a year old I believe- But I've been planning the story for Show & Hell for years before then!
I'm very excited to show what I have in store for you all. There will be lots of twists, emotions, and mystery to come soon. I can't wait to see what y'all think of the characters- There are lots of super fun designs and personalities- As well as stories with them.
Thank you all for following, reading, and sharing my story. And thank you to the Show & Hell team for helping with story/plot, costume design for the play, and medical things for the upcoming murder mystery. You're all so amazing and I couldn't have continued this project without all of your support. I hope you are all excited for what's to come in the near future! 💖
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also ty for being understanding with my long hiatus'- sorry bout that LMAO
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boxwinebaddie · 6 months ago
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an uncle nina check in <3
hi team! thanks for sticking around! i know my blog isn't always the most exciting and enriching place in the world in terms of content, but i am very /content/ to have you all here. <3333
i promise, oddly enough, i have A TON of inspiration and ideas for all my weird styles ( if you're curious about anything please lmk! i've been trying to flesh out my aus out lately ), i've just been in a major bummer depression era lately, so it's hard for me to get my asks done and i'm having a hard time committing to finishing my writing. :<
i think it's because of stress and my bipolar, but i am trying to get back on the horse! ( are we all laughing at the idea of me trying to get on a horse? i'd start crying help city girl fail moment for me ) yeehaw!
and while, unfortunately due to the instability ( fabulous legendary iconery ) of my pretty girl popstar personality, i do not know whether i will be answering almost no questions or one million, regardless of that, i just wanted to let you know, i'm still here, still kicking my feet, twirling my hair, cooking...i'm just really trying not to force myself to put out anything i don't like...and only do what makes me truly happy.
however, nothing, my dear sweet e-darlings...
makes me happier than coming home to all of you. <333
so thank you for flooding even the darkest corners of my life with bright light, supporting my phantom fics and being wonderful,
uncle nina xx
#nina speaks#hi my loves#idk what the point of this was#i just know my blog is really inconsistent and i know i dont really post anything or anything that useful#but i wanted you to know that i love you very much and i still care a lot about all of you and all my content actually#which i have been fleshing out in notebooks and google docs i've been doing lots of world building and character study#so feel free to ask me something challenging about any part of my nina sp auniverse that interests u itll make my brain work#i've also been taking very silly but dilligent notes abt what ravesey style looks like for ter so if u want to laff at those u can#i just love taking notes on detail and understanding exactly what characters look like or what settings appear like idk#might be some experimental writing on here i like doing different mediums like i was being silly#and started writing a netflix trailer for rm haha i also have been doing weird personality tests and questionnaires#i've been trying to think very deeply about tkak and my tfbw styles if u have any questions there and am deep plotting rm#trying to be impactful while also keeping things fun and learning to enjoy myself again i suppose#so again thakn u for being here sorry its weird on here but thank u for supporting me as i learn and grow my sunshines#also ik i have a ton of asks and uve already asked me so many things so never feel inclined to message me#but i love hearing what ur curious about hopefully i can answer some stuff eventually but again im on a break#i'm here but i'm not this is a safe place we try and fail we have fun and promote style world domination thru my weird styles#ilysm i'm shutting up now i promise i'm still here i'm just trying to be healthy and happy esp rn when i am not emotionally well#gotta protect my peace and my vibe palace but im still here!#MWAH MWAH MWAAAAAH#really trying to heal my inner child or like the girl in me that liked to write silly stories and create crazy things#weird hcs big dramatic plots silly stuff...i want to honor that girl because she was happy and free and had fun#and i want to do that again so lets have fun guys#no judgement no seriousness just good vibes and good reads#welcome to the uncle nina learns to laugh again arc#i hope you enjoy it
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quicktimeeventfull · 2 years ago
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my toxic trait is i think death note is an actually for real unironically good manga which is better than even a lot of its fans give it credit for. like it has the subtlety of meat cleaver but also you have to pay attention to what that cleaver is cutting u know. it’s not an ironic or tongue & cheek work so if you look at it from that lens you’re going to miss a lot of what’s good about it i think.
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rainyjackalope · 1 year ago
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btw i will make a sona for myself based on your favorite animal but you have to draw yourself as a jackalope in return
im dead serious
you can be a bunny or a hare, doesn't matter. look up different breeds and species and colors if you want and then give them some kind of horns or antlers (wolpertingers are also fine but they have to be rabbit/hare based it's the rules.) it can also be a hybrid in general and not have strictly rabbit features, i dont wanna limit people too much
my conditions are i wont do bugs for mine (unless its a moth!) i like bugs but i rly dont like looking at photos of some kinds too much and some bugs are too intricate for me to do justice for comfortably in anthro form. i havent practiced that enough also: no open species type things. actual animals or general cryptids please i don't get into open species stuff at all
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artemismatchalatte · 2 years ago
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Wow. Sometimes I'm very lucky and my bipolar doesn't always affect me much. But no such luck lately. I'm worried that I might have to retake my modern lit course because I was so late with many of my assignments. I've been mentally messed up more or less with a mixed mood episode since last September. I'm currently on the line of passing and not passing the class (granted there are a few ungraded assignments, including my final so it's still possible that I'm overreacting). I'm usually a good student too so it's a point of pride for me. I went from the honor roll to this all due to me fighting with an illness... :/ (It is my fault for not managing things better so I'm not looking for pity here- just talking).
I cannot imagine how horrible this disorder is for people who didn't have the option of medication (I am medicated, believe it or not). I think about that about that a lot since I study history and look into many writer's and artist's biographies in my spare time. I feel very bad for them since they basically had to live with this disorder without the fixes I have simply because I was born late enough for treatments to exist.
Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath both haunt me. Other people too. Yes, Lord Byron was extremely shocking but consider- we don't actually know what he would have been like if he could have been treated. He wouldn't have died at 36, I'm almost certain of that. I am highly aware of what this disorder has done to people before me. It doesn't make it better. But I keep looking back any way, to see that many of them did incredible things, in spite of it all.
I just keep thinking that if they could do so much without any treatment- that I should be able to function with treatment??? I know: don't compare yourself to other people but I'm desperate to know that I can be successful even with this illness. That it's not going to force me to leave school (the one thing I have been historically good at) and waste my life toiling away for nothing.
So if it seems as if I have been hitting my head against something lately, you aren't wrong. The fall is not generally my friend, pretty as the leaves are. I have not been having a good time of it but we must go on any way because what other option is there? None, I tell you.
#leaves pretty brain shitty has been my fall for the last few years since 2018 at least...#consistently fall has been bad for my cycle though I like that time of year normally#granted a lot of things kept happening every fall since 2018 too#bipolar disorder#actually bipolar#I probably am a closet perfectionist in some cases#I am exhausted thanks for asking!#and yes for a few semesters I was an honor roll student in my grad school- not any more though LOL#seriously I'm going into debt for this degree and uh that promise to waive our debt never came to light so I'm very fucked rn#I have to finish this degree so I can work off my debt and build a good reputation for myself#I'm honestly afraid my illness might take away my ability to have a career at all; I'm desperate for a living wage!#it's not good#but this could be anxiety talking tbh#for real I'm amazed that like Virginia Woolf and others were able to do as much as they did in their lives#because without my medication I'd probably be useless??? Mania is not fun 10/10 would NOT suggest#I actually pity Lord Byron after reading his biography; he just seems like if mania was a person and um it explains his behavior completely#do you ever look back at other peoples' lives and see pieces of yourself in them and then feel really bad for them? cuz I do all the time#mychatter#I'm stubborn in that I refuse to quit school since I am aware that my family needs to know I can do this#please don't take this personally this is my problem and a pointless rant probably
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orcelito · 1 year ago
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checked in for my flight tomorrow and i am hissing biting tearing @ the fact that they dont have a gate assigned for my flight yet
i know the general area since i know the airline im flying with but i DONT. LIKE. not being able to plan ahead.
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callisteios · 1 year ago
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my girlfriend doesnt have tumblr but apparently she lurks exclusively on your page to see the new uquizzes you make
Well hello nerdyqueerr’s girlfriend, I’m sorry about the spam you have to sift through. I’m also sorry about the incredibly infrequent nature of the quizzes
I am extremly flattered and even more extremely apologetic. At this very moment I am beginning work on a new quiz; it really has been a while
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sanchoyo · 2 years ago
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🧍🏻 girl help the blood tests came back and I do possibly have pre-hypothyroidism. They want me to come back in 3 months to do another panel just in case bc smth was apparently way way too high 😭 wtf !!
#I don’t know what they’ll do if it’s confirmed I mean. I mean they confirmed my levels are high but maybe it’s a fluke 😭 PLSS if that’s#actually fr a reason or contributing factor to my mental stuff I will lose it I don’t want another diagnosis I have enough shit wrong!!!#enoughhhhh like stoppp ittttt 😂 please. ☹️#I am also going to …book an appointment w a disability lawyer#I once again quit a job after 2 days 😔#but I’m alive! I survived a level 10 brain crisis . I can’t keep getting jobs and then having huge horrible week long meltdowns over them#it’s disability or bust!!!! if the lawyer tells me it’s not realistic and she doesn’t think I’ll get it idk 😭#but like. I’m not able to work rn. I can’t keep lying and downplaying it and then spending weeks recovering after meltdowns#it’s not sustainable!!!! it cannot continue!!!!#literally nervously admitted to my sister how bad it actually is and saying it out loud was so hard and embarrassing but…#I promised the crisis hotline lady I’d get help and tell my support system that I need help. I will not let her down 🫡 I will get help#if I have to drag myself. which I will .#lol…(pained) I rly hope the lawyer takes me seriously 😐#medical talk#sanchoyorambles#actually thyroid issues run in the family my grandma has thyroid issues!!! I’ve gone w her to a specialist that’s like 3 hours away!!!#maybe I shouldn’t be surprised but I genuinely am I am like wtf!! bro !!#I mean tbf I’ve had anxiety forever like even as a very small child so I don’t think that’s the ONLY reason but if it’s contributing…🔫#I don’t even kno how they’d treat that I will look it up I guess 🧍🏻
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nonokoko13 · 11 months ago
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Why can't people like a celebrity without imagine them as queer? Can't people like Taylor music without go saying she's lesbian/queer when she hasn't said anything about that. Pretty sure if she was attracted to women she would have already said it 🫠
Even in the hypothetical scenario where she was queer indeed pressuring somebody to come out or out them yourself is selfish, stupid, dangerous, toxic and overall fucked up (-᷅_-᷄)
We have so many queer pop icons out of the closet but you need to headcanon your favourite ally/het as lgbt for...comfort reasons? Just because she's your fav? Because you are queer? Dude she's not a fictional character can you not spread false information or discuss real people orientations and just enjoy their content 💀
all goofing aside I genuinely don't understand the urge to reimagine Taylor Allison Swift as a secretly queer icon when the pop music scene(TM) is like. literally overflowing with women who actually like women. Gaga and Kesha and Miley and Halsey are right there. Rina Sawayama and Hayley Kiyoko and Rebecca Black and Kehlani and Victoria Monét and Miya Folick if you're willing to get slightly less top 100. Janelle and Demi for them nonbinary takes on liking girls. like what are we doing here. like I'm not even saying you can't enjoy Taylor but why would you hang all your little gay hopes on her.
#saying this as bi myself btw#WHO SAYS LADY GAGA DOESN'T COUNT AS QUEER JUST BECAUSE SHE'S A BOY KISSER TOO#i'm tired of this shit#please remember that is LGBT+ NOT LGT+#bi/pan folks exist. No need to act like people is either gay or straight and there's no in between when that's clearly *false*!#And even if you aren't lgbt+ I think having this opinion of not giving real people hc sexualities/orientations is still valid#you have too much free time if you're wasting it to theorize about somebody private life while ignoring the very much confirmed queer icons#Plus. If you care sm about somebody sexuality to the point if they aren't what you want them to be you get disappointed/upset#rather than caring more about their work which they produced and you supposedly consume as a self-proclaimed fan...#Are you really a fan of them? I don't think so.#A true fan loves them for who they are or what they produce. Not because for who they feel attracted to#Imagine working your way to the top as a musician or whatever career you pursue and your fans grade your worth or their liking to you#based on who you kiss or sleep with or who you don't 💀#feeling like OOP pfp for real#this is exhausting#Idc less about who Lady Gaga kisses. Yeah having her as bi icon was important to me but if tomorrow she decides to come out as smth else#I'll keep listening her music. Because I like her music. And her personality. And some of her outfits. The end#there are many songs made by women/nb who like women iswtg#you don't need to pretend straight people isn't straight in order to like their music or to like them as a person I promise it's okay 🙏#Also what in the actual fuck is that article??? People seriously get paid for writing that? 💀💀💀💀#So sorry for all the shit you must have read in order to need to do this thread OP and afterwards too#ALSO BATMAN NAME based opinion and good taste hell yeah ✨#the you in all this post only goes to those who think like that btw. If you feel offended the problem is on you#how about taking reading comprehension classes before speaking. Some people are in dire need of it#those who believe a bi is less queer icon than a gay one is in my blacklist. If you come to me with that bs I'll block you on sight
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jananimal813 · 12 days ago
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Okay, so who knows how to make money when you can hardly move your body?
Especially in a place that is very unlikely to care about accommodating disabilities…
I think I’m going to drop dead one of these days.
I feel like such absolute TrashDookieGarbage.
I don’t think I’m suicidal.
I’m honestly too squeamish about it, and also I’m convinced that I would probably fail at that anyway, since that’s all I ever seem to be able to do, so why even bother trying, ya know?
But my body is just going to stop.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Fuck.
#I’m being carted off to Florida once again#damn my mental illness#and damn my ex#i can’t believe he rescinded his offers of help#I can’t believe he kept everything in until it blew up our relationship#I warned him very specifically about that when we met#like you have to tell me if something is bothering you#or I will not know#and then to not help me because I couldn’t get out within a single month#like even fully able bodied neurotypicals would struggle with that#I have been Completely Destroyed by it#like I’m so physically weak I have been having to take baths instead of showers#I took a shower last week and almost passed out#I have absolutely no physical or emotional energy#and while I am grateful I have people who will help me not be literally homeless#being with my mother is The Worst Thing For ME#she has zero ability to change her behavior#she promises she will be respectful of my personal space and feelings#and then puts on Fox News the second we get to the hotel#and tells me ‘don’t be triggered’#and then that I am ‘an ugly person’ for being upset about it#normally I am able to hold back how I actually feel about her when I’m around her#but I do not have that ability right now#and she just knows exactly the wrong thing to say#to push my buttons like her name is Joe and she works in a button factory#I just seriously can’t fucking handle it#while I was being extremely dramatic on a phone call with my brother and step dad#the immediate dismissal from Every Single One of them#of my expressal of distress about how mom literally abused me#just 😑😑😑😑😑
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voskhodart · 10 months ago
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“The bigger the elf ears, the smaller the penis” is canon lore in my comic btw.
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alexiroflife · 3 months ago
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Hello! May I request an angsty toji fic where reader finds out she's pregnant (post megumi) and she knows toji doesn't want anymore children so she just kinda leaves with little to no explanation? Maybe just a small note saying things aren't working out. It's up to you if it will be a hurt/comfort. Idk you don't have to do this request I don't want to overload you! I seriously love your writing. The way you right the character just warms my heart. I especially love ur hiding an Injury fic it was SO SO SO GOOD. 🩶🤍🖤
“promise”
toji fushiguro x reader
Synopsis: see above
to sum it up: you think it’s better to run away than to be the one to get hurt
WC: 5,668
Warning(s): angst, suggestive themes, yelling, pregnancy, mentions of abortion
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You stare down at the plastic tube clutched in your trembling hands in awe, eyes blown with shocked grief as you peer closer to get a better look, as though those two bright pink lines could have been a trick of your vision.
Unfortunately, however, your vision remains just as crystal clear as it always has been. As you stand in your cramped apartment bathroom, illuminated by a flickering fluorescent gaze shining down from above, horror befalls you.
You’re pregnant.
You should have known sooner when you began feeling queasy every morning, taking trips to either your or Toji’s toilet to hurl out the contents of whatever swam inside your stomach. You always tried to be silent if Toji was around, for he slept like a dog that could not be woken even if a meteor struck earth, and you had been remarkably exhausted. You aren’t even sure if there is a word to describe how sluggish your entire mind and body had been feeling, but you wanted to rule out the very obvious answer to your problems before exploring it.
You begin to panic, your heart pounding in your ears and throat and every inch of your body you could feel the pulse, eyes blurry over the positive test. You’re conflicted. You don’t know how to feel. On the one hand, you would have been jumping for joy to learn that you are starting a new life with your boyfriend, to step into a new chapter of your lives and to provide his children with another sibling.
But hell, the celebration is far too naive and implausible to be had. The sage eyed man has told you time and time again that he does not wish to have anymore kids, that the ones he has are enough and he is not equipped financially or mentally to care for another brat. In honor of those wishes, you’re on the pill, and consequently, Toji has taken the opportunity to plow his load inside of you time after time after time.
And you really, truly should have known that with Toji’s uniquely abled body, what was meant to serve as a barrier and a means of contraception did not work.
You feel like throwing up. What would Toji say? What would he do? What are you supposed to do? Should you tell him, fill him in on what’s going on to risk rejection and abandonment, a nasty habit that Toji had to work to rid himself of when he met you? Would he even care? Would he listen?
You know Toji to be a very tough man, despite the softened interior he attempts to hide in others’ company that is only displayed for you and for his kids. If he has always been adamant about one thing, it’s been to never have kids again, to focus on where he fucked up before and to pour his attention into the little family he’s grown, the one that he has now.
His voice echoes through your head like the gong of a church bell striking upon the ear’s of a sinner.
“Hell, I already got my hands full tryna get Megumi through his teenage years. What the hell is another child gonna do for us?”
“That shit’s fuckin’ expensive. Not to mention, I’d have to baby proof the house again. That’s another expense.”
“If I was capable of givin’ you y’er own, I would, doll. But I ain’t cut out for it. You know that.”
You don’t even know why he would stress the matter so often. You suppose he’s caught the way your eyes linger on a mother tossing their giggling baby up and down into the air, innocent pools of joy beaming down at her each time it reaches the air and lands in her secure hold. Or maybe he’s seen the way you care so deeply for Toji’s kids as though they are your own, despite telling you when you first got involved with each other that he did not expect you to step into their lives in anyway - and yet, you have done that and more. You know how the kids must struggle each day with the trauma of losing their mother so early on, and you never wanted them to think that you were trying to step in as her replacement, but you love them so clearly, as much as you love the man who created them.
Which leads you to your next concern. How would the kids react?
It’s one thing for you, as their father’s girlfriend, to wander into their lives and help navigate them their teenage hood alongside the dark haired man, but to introduce an entire other child only leaves a sour taste in your mouth.
They may be crushed. They me turn to hate you, to despise how you have contaminated the life they have worked so hard to rebuild after numerous tragedies. And would Toji agree with them? Would he turn his nose up to you, that scowl of his melting over his harsh features as he shuns you just as he shunned every other woman who came after his wife and before you. Would he leave you? Would he kick you out of the world that has become your own because you failed to live up to your promise, though it technically isn’t your fault that you are pregnant now but it feels as though it is?
You can not stand the thought, of the man you love turning his once loving gaze stone upon the sight of you, of him pushing you further away, permanently, in the same manner that he tried to when he realized that he was falling in love with you, of watching Megumi and Tsumiki turn their backs to you as though the past four years of your lives had never happened, banning you from their acceptance forever more.
Tears well in your gaze, interfering with your vision. This can not be happening, you think to yourself, everything has been going so well, and now this? This is going to ruin your relationship with Toji for good. Even if you were not in a committed relationship with him, you assume that the idea of any woman getting impregnated by Toji would have been thrown away. You would be thrown away, just like all the others who gave Toji their bodies but not their hearts.
Not the way you have.
Your heart clenches thinking of just how much you love Toji and the kids, of how you would be willing to lay down your own life for the sake of them as Toji swears that he would for you all in return. Even so, despite the commitment to you that a man who swore never to be committed to accustomed, this would be going too far.
…You’re not even sure if he would love you anymore.
Now that you’re pregnant with his child, a child he never meant to have with you, you assume you will mean nothing to him any longer. In his eyes, you will simply become the slut that he took a chance on by a whim, carrying something he would never call his own. You believe the old Toji will resurface, the one who claimed not to care, the one who shoved women out of his bedroom before the sun rose in the sky, the one who often failed to remember to pick his kids up from school, the one who would no longer meet you at eye level but look down upon you, frown upon you for being so clumsy.
You know Toji is the one who did this, but this still feels like it is your doing. Like somehow, you trapped him and he now has no choice but to break free from the steel cage you have barred around him with your conception.
Your fingers clutch over the plastic, your eyes scrunching closed to release a fresh set of tears that cascade over your cheeks and onto the test. You can feel yourself mourning your relationship already, you can feel it slipping through your fingers, see it fading in the distance until it becomes nothing but a bittersweet memory that you can not determine as reality or a figment of your imagination any longer.
You tilt your head, bringing the test to your forehead as you think, grieve, cry. You mull over your options; you could hide this from Toji, get an abortion and never think of it again or you could tell Toji and lose him forever.
You open your bleary eyes, lashes decked with dewy tears, as another idea dawns upon you. You could leave, leave before Toji and the kids have a chance to leave you.
It’s a cruel thought, you think, especially abandoning those children without any proper explanation for them, but what else are you meant to do? You’d be doing them all a favor if anything by taking your leave without them having to be plagued by the knowledge of your unplanned pregnancy, of what they may view as a scheme to destroy their family in your new baby’s wake.
The thought kills you to even entertain. You had promised those kids that you weren’t going anywhere, that you’d stay with them for as long as they allowed you… but this is different. This is not what any of you had in your cards, how you believed your futures to go. Toji wants simplicity at home while he works through chaos through his occupation. He wants security, warmth, safety for you, Megumi, Tsumiki, and no one else. He would never welcome another child. You believe he’d be caught dead before approving of your pregnancy.
And therefore, you know what you have to do.
After taking a few more tests to ensure that the readings are accurate, which they are, you pledge to walk away. You pledge to leave the only man you’ve ever truly loved, the strongest family you’ve known, and the slim possibility that despite Toji’s wishes, he may accept you.
But you don’t want to take that chance and risk the humiliation and unplanned heartbreak. You’d much rather take matters into your own hands, and plan the shattering of your soul yourself.
You don’t sleep all night, for you’re too busy drafting about twenty different letters to Toji. Crumpled loosleaf paper litters the floor beside your bed as you try to think of how to best write down everything you want to say. You go through pages and pages until you are finally satisfied with the result, and the next morning, you slip the envelope into his mail slot and prepare to pack your life away.
It is late Sunday morning when Toji rises from his slumber. The first thing he does is lean over the sheets and drape his arm toward his nightstand to read your daily good morning text - only he finds there isn’t one. With pinched brows, he takes his phone to unlock it and visit your contact. Nothing.
The time reads 12:35 pm. Normally, you’re up and at it or even banging down his door by then to wake him. Maybe you’re just sleeping in?
He goes to give your cell a call, but nothing. Not only that, but your phone is also on do not disturb mode. His gut immediately swells with the suspicion that something is wrong. The dark haired assassin supposes he’s going to pay you a visit this afternoon as soon as he checks on the kids to ensure that they are alright.
His bedroom door opens with a creak, and he calls out to the teens gruffly through a yawn. When they don’t respond, he’s truly growing concerned.
He rounds the corner to prepare to head for their rooms when he finds Tsumiki and Megumi at the dining table. His brows furrow, his pace slowing as he takes in their faces. Tsumiki’s lips are pressed together tightly and the muscles in her face are scrunched as though she is about to cry, while Megumi stares ahead with empty eyes and a hardened exterior.
Toji frowns with quirked brows, approaching his kids. “What’s wrong with you two?”
His brunette daughter looks up at him with glassy eyes and wrinkled chin, lashes fluttering while Megumi does not bother to look at his father. Instead, he brings Toji’s attention to a torn envelope and a thick packet of papers pressed beneath the sixteen year old’s palm. Wordlessly, Megumi slides it toward him, brows slanting.
Toji, perplexed, looks between the papers and his children’s troubled faces. What is this letter? Overdue taxes? An eviction notice? That can’t be possible, because you had ensured that Toji and the kids’ place was secure long ago.
He crunches the papers in his hands and picks them up to read. The first thing that catches his eye is your scribbling handwriting, and the following words that send his heart plummeting to his ass:
This isn’t working out.
Toji whips his head up, baffled, and when he meets Megumi’s gaze again, his eyes are ablaze with resentment.
“What the hell did you do?” he growls.
The green eyed man is not even thinking before he’s dialing Shiu’s number, asking him to watch the kids for the next hour or so, and running out of the apartment after throwing rather unconvincing words of assurance over his shoulder to his kids, who are still with disbelief - Tsumiki with devastation and Megumi with rage, for surely his father pushed you away.
Toji does not bother finding a ride, electing to run to your place which is only a few blocks away. You two were just discussing moving in with one another, combining households, and this is what you spring onto him? Not even for him to stumble across first, but his kids who look up to you and love you like their own mother?
Oh, he’s fuming, a rush of emotions taking over his mind as it fuels his speed. The letter you wrote is still crunched in his fist, whipping through the air as he makes his way to you.
Dear Toji,
This is not working out.
But before you rampage and get angry with me, please let me explain. Let me explain how much I love you, how much those kids mean to me, and how every day I wake up I want to be greeted by all of your smiling faces. For the rest of time, forever. You are undoubtedly the only man for me, and I truly believe that. I know you may think I’m bullshitting because of how the beginning of this letter contradicts what im saying now, but it’s true. I have never loved another person the way I love you, and while it scared me at first when you were so stubborn and full of anger that you misdirected onto me, I stayed and I waited and I helped you and I’ve loved you through every single moment, ever week, every month, and every year. You brought purpose back into my life, and I can picture you scoffing because you’d say the same, but I mean it. You, Tsumiki, and Megumi are the best things that have ever happened to me. I love you all so much.
But in this case, that love is not enough.
I hate to be doing this to you, to the kids, but I have no other choice. Things aren’t going the way they used to, and it’s not your fault but mine. I’m the reason. And it is tearing me apart to know that and simultaneously know what I have to do in order to keep you and the kids happy. Stable. I wish I could explain to you more why I am doing this, but I can’t. Not just because I am dying to picture you reading this, but because I truly can not say. I do not want to ruin you guys’ image of me. While I think that’s a selfish thing to say because who knows how me leaving is going to hurt you all, you would not understand even if you knew the reason behind this.
By the time you are done reading this, I will be gone. I’m going away because as long as I am not with you all, I can’t stay here anymore. I am staying with my mother while I get my travel plans arranged, because I know how you worry when you do not know where I am or if im safe. I should be gone by Friday.
Please do not come see me. I have made my decision, and you will only be hurting us more by trying to stop me. I won’t be stopped.
Kiss and hug and apologize to Megumi and Tsumiki for me. I hope you find someone who fills the role of their mother, someone who knows how Megumi likes to do his homework in the silence of his room with no music or anything, completely isolated so he can focus. Someone who knows how to fix Tsumiki’s eggs properly - to add extra butter to the sides when you fry them so the edges get crispier. Someone who won’t try to feed Gumi’a demidogs because he hates when people assume they can coddle up to them upon first introduction. Someone who cares for the wholly the way I do and always will.
And you. I know how stubborn you are. I know how angry you probably are at me right now, and I will miss that about you, but please do not let that interfere with the possibility of falling in love again. Beneath the layers of grit, standoffishness, and indifference, you are a man with a big heart. For me. For your kids. For those you love and seek to protect.
You say you aren’t a good man, and while that may be true to you, you are an amazing partner and you’ve already become an amazing parent. I’ve seen you grow, and I am so in love with you and so proud of you. I know you’ll be okay without me. It maybe take some time, but you’ll adjust to what’s best. I promise.
With all the love that could possibly be harbored in this world, you are everything to me and that is why I have to go. I wish you every happiness this planet can offer you, and I know that without me, you can begin to find joy again.
Love,
Your doll
You had believed to time this perfectly, for you know that Toji usually does not wake until one, so soon as you are finishing up packing, you are trudging down the stairs to the leasing office to inform them that you will be moving.
You push open the door to the first floor, the breeze hitting you gently, and you round the corner only to be blocked by the last person you wanted to run into during this time.
Your eyes widen as you look up, the burly figure you have grown oh so familiar with over the years heaving as though enraged, ivy eyes crowding over slim pupils as Toji glares down at you, an image of indescribable fury.
Your heart drops and your words die in your throat. “T-Toji?” you whisper, horrified of an outburst. You are rattled by fear, having been so unprepared to walk into this. You did not put it past him to chase you down. But you figured that you’d be at your parents by the time he woke. Then, you could have at least told them to tell him off at the door.
But no. Instead, here he is, six feet and then some of bulking mass as he takes quick, deep breaths that expand the entirety of his chest.
You shift. “What are you doing here-“
“What the fuck is this?”
Toji swiftly, yet aggressively, lifts the papers in his hands, now damaged by his travels and his grip, shaking it firmly with the question. You gulp, lowering your eyes.
“Toji, I told you not to come…”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he swears firmly, and you jump, looking to see if anyone is around to hear you, as the two of you are standing outside your complex.
“We shouldn’t be- let’s just go inside,” you go to grab his arm, but he tears it away. He stares at you as though you have burned him, singed the heart in his chest from the inside out, and he is so unforgiving. So unforgiving before he hears directly from your mouth what this is about.
“I’m not doin’ shit until you tell me what the fuck this is, (Y/n),” he demands, his hand moving the papers about passionately with his speech, and you feel your heart hammering again. This is not how things were supposed to go. You are not supposed to be seeing him right now. “Cause I refuse- I fuckin’ refuse to believe that you’re breaking up with me.”
Your eyes gloss over as you look down at your feet, unsure of what to do or how to handle this confrontation. You can’t do this. You can’t, it’s too much. It’s too hard.
“…I am,” you mumble.
Toji steps forward, leaning down to get a peek of your face, his expression so angry that it worries you. “What?”
“I said… I am.”
“Uh uh, you better say that shit with your chest if you can write a whole damn letter about it,” he growls, fucking further as you continue to turn away. “Look at me,” he barks, and you cringe.
“Toji, don’t yell at me!” you shout back.
“What else do’ya want me to do, huh?” he throws his hands up. “How else do you expect me to react to this bullshit?! You’re leavin’ me? After everythin’ we been through, after everythin’ you and the kids’ve been through, you’re leavin? Are you fuckin’ serious?”
He takes a swift glance at the papers, the very sight sending him into a spiral, before he’s heatedly looking back down at you.
“I don’t buy this shit for one second. No. You’re not leavin’. Not in this world, or the next.”
“I am, Toji, the quicker you accept that, the easier it’ll be for everyone!”
“Easy?” he winces as though the prospect pains him. “You call this shit easy? You call up and tryin’ to abandon me easy? You call the kids waking up to your letter and reading it at the table before I saw it easy?”
Your face falls. “…what?”
“Yeah. You fuckin’ heard me,” he sneers. “Megumi and Tsumiki read this shit first. First thing in the morning, they see a letter about how the woman they love is leavin’ ‘em, just like their mom did, and for what?”
You close your eyes, his words stinging you as they cut through. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true, ain’t it? Y’er leavin’ us, (Y/n), and you didn’t even have the decency to say why!”
Guilt crowds you, like a blanket of darkness consuming you from overhead, and as Toji stands before you completely torn apart by your letter, you see the fear in his eyes, the sadness, the unspoken plea for you not to go.
You try your best to keep your composure as you turn away again. “I told you, I can’t tell you.”
“Fuck that,” he lifts the letter and tosses it to the ground with a thud. You gasp, watching it slam to the concrete pavement.
“Toji!” you exclaim.
“You think you can just leave without me comin’ to hunt you down and see your face so I can figure out what the hell is goin’ on? You must not know me at all.”
“Why do you always have to be so aggressive about everything?!”
“Of all fuckin’ things, (Y/n), I think I got a right to be aggressive about this. You were gonna leave without sayin’ goodbye!” he tosses his arm out to the side with the exclamation, brows twisting and teeth bearing. “Is that what our relationship means t’ya? You think you can just toss us aside?”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” you beg, a lump forming in your throat as the two of you stand face to face, arguing without a car about who will see you.
“Then tell me,” he shouts. “Cause you’re not givin’ me shit to go off of!”
“I told you already, I can’t,” your lips quiver.
“Then our relationship is nothing to you.”
“No, Toji.”
“Clearly it ain’t, cause I’d think it’d be worth an explanation if you’re runnin’ away!” you frown and shake your head, turning to walk back into the complex when Toji cuts you off, moving in your way. “You don’t think I know you? You don’t think I see it all over your face that somethin’s got you scared, and y’re takin’ off because of it? You think I don’t know what that looks like, (Y/n)? I did that shit. I did it all the damn time before I met you, and hell, I tried to run then but you wouldn’t let me, so what the hell makes you think I’m gonna let you now?”
“This is different,” you say shortly, afraid to reveal the tremble of your voice to the man before you. You keep your gaze down as you try to go around him again, but to no avail. He steps in your path. “Stop!”
“I ain’t stoppin’,” he says gravely, keeping his eyes to yours though you try to avoid contact with them. “Not until you spit it out. I’ll be damned if I got another broken home cause y’re fuckin’ scared.”
“I said stop!” you try to find some bass in your voice, but against your will, it falters when you yell. Toji eyes you carefully, reaching his hand out to grip your shoulder and steady you into place.
You scoff, attempting to pull away, but it’s no use. The dark haired man is everywhere, keeping you from walking away.
“You talk to me like the grown ass woman you are,” he tells you sternly, stepping in. “You use that voice I know you have, and don’t you ever let me catch you writin’ a letter to me about how you wanna break up instead of comin’ to talk to me. Y’understand?”
You exhale shakily, lips pressing together and brows curling. “I can’t.”
“Y’re still not tellin’ me why you think that.”
“Because I can’t, Toji. I can’t tell you. It’ll- it’ll fuck up everything!” you break, and Toji feels the pit in his stomach shift as he looks over your aggrieved expression, depicting the same exact things he feels.
“(Y/n),” he calls your name firmly, the sound of it on his tongue only inspiring the urge to cry more. You continue to shake your head though Toji isn’t exactly speaking, and his green eyes wander you with frustrated concern. “Y’scared of what I’ll do if you tell me?”
You freeze, slowly peeling your eyes to look at his, his face tense with grief. You stare at him for a moment, mouth gaping like a fish as all of your insecurities that talked you toward this ledge run through your mind once more.
“Don’t look surprised,” he says. “I know you like the back of my hand, and I know that you knew I’d be over here to stop ya.”
Your frown deepens, and this time as you look at him, you see every second of your future that you were quick to stomp dow. You see the unbridled, unfiltered love he holds for you as well as the blood curdling fear of letting you go.
“You have to understand,” you whimper. “I know how you’ll react, I- I can’t do this to you. You have to let me go.”
“What the hell could be so horrifyin’ in that head of yours to make you think that I won’t stick with ya through hell and high water?” he grits out, searching your swollen hues of (e/c) hesitation. “You’d do the same for me.”
“I know, but-“
“There’s nothin’ else to say. I ain’t leavin’ until you spill, and when you do, y’re comin’ with me.”
You look at him, pained. It’s a trap, you think. If Toji only knew, he’d be running for the hills instead of trying to track you down.
“Out with it, now.”
You can’t. You can’t tell him. He’ll leave you, he’ll reject you, he’ll turn you away, he’ll never let you see the kids again.
“(Y/n)!”
“I’m pregnant!”
The earth seems to freeze and time seems to slow. You scrunch your eyes, anticipating the worst to come as Toji takes in your words, his tensed expression melting slowly.
You don’t open your eyes to see his reaction. You keep your head ducked and your fists closed as the white noise of nature flutters into relevance. You’re trembling, terrified, and Toji can not move but instead proceeds to stare at you, stunned.
His words about not wanting any more kids run through your mind again as you await his response, and the suspense kills you as you do. You can feel his grip on your shoulder slacken before tightening again, and you are terrified.
He’s going to leave you.
You are quick to step away when the sentiment arises once more, Toji’s hand falling from you arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, still unable to look at him. “I’m sorry, I know that you don’t want any more kids. I know, an I thought we were being careful, but- I took five tests. They’re all positive.”
“You’re pregnant?” he echoes, and you still. You knew it. You knew this would happen.
“I told you, Toji,” you exhale. “I told you that I couldn’t tell you, and now everything’s a mess.”
He twitches. “Hold on-“
“Don’t tell me all of a sudden you want kids,” you snap. “I know how strongly you feel about it.”
“So instead of talkin’ to me, you were gonna leave? Knocked up? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“What other choice do I have?!” you cry. “You don’t want more kids, and if I kept it, it would only be a nuisance to you. And Megumi and Tsumiki?”
He scrunches his face. “What about ‘em?”
“How do you think they’d feel if the woman you’re dating after their mother died surprised them with a new baby? They’d be crushed!” you say shakily as salty tears well in your eyes again. “I can’t overstep your boundaries. I just can’t. It’s easier for me to go.”
“And do what, (Y/n)? Raise a kid on your own without any help?”
“I can’t bare you leaving me!” you suddenly confess, tear striking past your cheek.
Toji examines you and frowns. “What are y’talkin’ about? You’re tryin’ to leave me!”
“So I can prevent the inevitable from happening,” you huff. “I’m okay with it. I’ve made peace with everything. That’s why you need to just let me go-“
“After everythin’, you think I’d throw you away because you’re pregnant with my kid?” Toji says incredulously. You falter, for you had been so sure of his reaction before. “You think that low of me?”
“No, but I want you to have what you want.”
“What I want is you, you fuckin’ idiot,” he hisses. “All I ever wanted was you, and I can’t fuckin’ believe you’re tryin’ to take that away from me.”
You furrow your brows, confused. “…You’re not mad?”
“Girl, I’m livid,” he scowls. “Not about the damn kid, but because you assumed what I would say before comin’ to me.”
“Toji, you have to understand that I was trying to look out for you.”
“There’s not lookin’ out for me or those kids or makin’ them happy if you’re gone, (Y/n),” he bites. “Who th’fuck put that idea in your head?”
You stammer, tears proceeding to flow down your face as you reel in the reality of the situation. “I… I just thought-“
“I don’t wanna hear it.”
Before you can respond, his hand is gripping your wrist and he’s tugging you toward him into his chest. You shake when you fall into him, listening to the pace of his heart rapidly beating against your ear as he breaths quickly against you. Large palms smooth over your head and down to your waist as he holds you tightly, and you notice how desperate his grip is. He’s holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, as though you’ll fly away if his hold is not tight enough.
He tucks his head into your neck, fingers grasping into your shirt, and suddenly the animosity of the moment prior is gone. You’re still trembling, leading Toji to hold you tighter to him.
“Can’t believe you tried to leave,” he murmurs into your hair. “Christ, (Y/n) you’re tryin’ to gimme a heart attack. The fuck is goin’ on with you.”
“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, looking off sadly. “I thought you’d be upset about it. I didn’t want you to know.”
“I should know about any and every single thing that’s goin’ on with you, y’hear me? This ain’t no exception.”
A weight flutters from your shoulders as you sink into Toji’s head, silent tears streaming for the life you almost sacrificed. “What are we gonna do?”
“I dunno,” he mumbles. “But we’ll figure it out. As a team. Alright?”
You nod meekly. “Okay.”
He groans, pressing himself impossibly further to you. “That letter… fuck, don’t do that shit. Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that. Without you, I ain’t shit- pregnant or not. And those kids would adore another sibling if you were bringing it into this world. Don’t say that shit about them again either. They need ya. We need ya.”
“I’m sorry,” you whine again, Toji’s hand stroking over your back soothingly.
“It’s okay,” he grumbles. “We’ll figure it out.”
2K notes · View notes
gutsby · 2 months ago
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Cowboy Killers
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Pairing: Cowboy!Joel x Reader
Summary: On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.
Warnings: 18+. Drunk-Assholes-to-Enemies-to-Lovers. Oral (m!receiving). Road head. Age gap. Daddy kink.
Note: My favorite sub-genre of country music is ‘I’m Gonna Fucking Kill My Husband,’ and I think Miranda Lambert’s ‘Gunpowder & Lead’ is a perfect representation of that.
Word count: 4.1k
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Forgive and forget.
Forgive and forget.
Forgive and—
“I’m about to lay this motherfucker out,” you announced.
Across the line, your friend laughed.
“Yeah? You see him?”
Of course you saw him. Who else would be wearing a Carhartt flannel and jeans in ninety-four degree heat? Not a soul in this world but your friend’s own lying, piece of shit, hopefully-soon-to-be-ex boyfriend, you guessed.
The game that Old Fuckstick Miller had decided to play tonight was a dangerous one—he was dumb as shit, and you were drunker than a skunk. He was dating your best friend, and she was not present at the Tipsy Bison to see the barefaced clusterfuck taking place before you now.
She was home, over thirty minutes away. He had told her that morning he would be working late, and not to wait up. You were here, at the bar, approaching one A.M. with a Redbull Vodka clenched in either fist and a Texas-sized frown on your face, seeing the very same man with his hands all over a woman that wasn’t your friend. You’d wanted to puke as soon as you saw them. You knew you could never trust a man who claimed to be an Austin native and couldn’t name a single George Strait song.
Your friend had only been dating the guy for a month, and you’d just seen his face in pictures up until now, but from what you could see less than twenty feet in front of you—slightly blurred from all the drinks you’d had—this guy was him. A dick. There, cheating on your best friend.
And no man would get to do that and walk out unscathed if you had anything to say about it.
Your grip tightened on either one of your fizzy drinks and, barely managing to cradle the phone between your head and your shoulder, you gestured over to another friend.
“Dave. Take it,” you said, words slurring a little.
Dave York cocked an eyebrow but said nothing as you passed him one of your RBVs and shimmied off the barstool. By the time he was able to pose his question, your ass, your phone, and your one remaining drink were already wobbling the other way. Vaguely, you heard him:
“Where ya headed, hon?”
You turned and raised your drink, then seriously doubted he would be able to hear you over the blare of the music, but yelled back anyway, ‘I’M GONNA KILL SOMEONE!’
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The age-old pro-forgiveness aphorism continued to thump in your brain as you made your way over and began to contemplate every feasible method of murder.
A gun in the face would’ve been too simple—and besides, you’d never owned or shot a firearm in your life.
Poison could be fun, but from the way you were approaching the man now, you seriously doubted he’d ever let you get within a mile of his drink. You nudged the phone closer to your ear and took a sip from your own.
“Closing in,” you told your friend simply.
She’d already given you the go-ahead to execute the confrontation and beat his ass any way you pleased after the fact. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ you’d finally get to encroach on this little loved up scene at the other end of the bar. The man had had his back turned to you, and the stunning redhead hanging off his neck, likewise, had no idea what was coming. You smiled.
“Promise you won’t go to jail this time?” your friend said.
“Will you bail me out again if I do?” Your grin got bigger.
“Well, duh.”
“Good deal. I’ll be the shitfaced inmate with ‘Fuck Men’ tattooed on her forehead. Wait for Travis County to call.”
“I love you, psycho.”
“Love you more.”
You ended the call.
And you were fully ready to end this man’s life when you saw him lean in to kiss the woman’s neck—that was sick.
You weren’t thinking straight. You weren’t seeing straight
You yelled out, ‘He-e-e-ey, honey!’ without blinking.
The couple turned.
As soon as the man had done a full 180, you flung your drink in his face and made sure the cup struck his nose.
“You cheatin’ FUCK!”
He flinched, sprayed by your vodka-infused energy juice.
The music overhead was loud, but not so deafening as to prevent the bar from hearing your shriek. From the front of the room, a band was playing ‘Gunpowder & Lead,’ and you couldn’t help but feel the song had been fate.
“What the f—” the adulterer started, evidently stunned.
You knocked the Shiner Bock out of his hand and spat:
“Working late, are we?!”
And spilled another patron’s beer reeling back.
“Got a little caught up on the way home?”
Gesturing toward the green-eyed beauty to his left. At first, the girl fixed her stare on you as if you’d sprouted another head, but then, by turns, she was tilting it to him.
“You have a girlfriend?” she hissed.
Cheater McFuckstick was wiping his beard with his hand
Shaking his head.
“Hell no, I ain’t never—”
“LIAR!”
Channeling your inner Representative Wilson circa 2009, you let your mouth fall open and stared at the big, burly man like the Congressman had once done to President Obama all those years ago. The semi-stranger in front of you was far less composed than his political counterpart.
“What the fuck is your problem?!” he snapped.
You felt your cheeks heat up.
“Is she your girlfriend?” would-be mistress said, shrill.
“NO!” you and been-knew asshole yelled together.
You saw the man’s nostrils flare, and at the same time, the woman beside him departed. Quickly. A few people around you cleared the way, while others still stared, gawked, and murmured amongst themselves. The Miranda Lambert cover band continued on without a hitch, though you could tell there had been a stir in the crowd. They probably thought the worst of it was over.
They thought wrong.
“You’re a dick,” you seethed, unrelenting.
You almost expected the man to turn and leave.
You thought wrong.
“You’re a cunt.”
And the man chucked a stray whiskey sour in your face.
The $15 spirits splattered on your skin like the meanest insult of all. His aim was better. Though he didn’t let go of the cup, as you had with him, he did make sure to coat the whole of your twisted look with the liquor, and once it landed, he had had the nerve to do something else, too.
He brought the glass to his lips then drank what was left.
“How’s it feel?” he sneered.
You stood in wet, sticky silence for half a second; arguably, you’d earned that cocktail to the face.
On the other hand, who the fuck did he think he was?
You grabbed a random can of Keystone Light and flung it at his chest to give him a hint—and catch him off-guard.
“You’re a bitch, Tommy Miller!”
“Wh—”
“Maria’s my best friend, you absolute f—”
“What—”
“—and you cheated on her for what? All so she—”
“What did you just call me?!”
“A BITCH!”
“No, the NAME!”
“TOMMY MILLER!”
“I’M JOEL!”
Oh.
Oh.
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You and Joel were shortly escorted out of the bar.
Joel’s name, and a trace of bourbon, were still fresh on your tongue when you found yourself stranded in the middle of the Tipsy Bison parking lot two minutes later. You leaned into a car beside you and held your stomach.
“Someone drop you on the head as a baby?” Joel barked.
Presently, for you, the world was tilting sideways, and your head was throbbing at a nauseating tempo.
“Go around slingin’ drinks at any old man you—”
Green. Green must’ve been the color of your face as you braced your hands on your knees and assumed a stance as if to scream at the ground. Rather than expecting any noise to ring out, though, you had only to squeeze your eyes shut and hold onto a hunch for something much less pleasant. And viscous.
Reeking mostly of Red Bull and regret, if you had to guess.
Joel took a big step back, and then he took another.
“Da-a-adgummit, girl, what the—”
He turned away just in time to miss the sight of you emptying your guts on the ground, but not quite fast enough to be spared the sounds of you retching. They were loud. Joel Miller was known to be a largely imperturbable force around these parts, but even he was made to feel queasy hearing that. Out of habit, he clapped his hand to his own gut and stumbled off. He stared at the bar, then at his car, then at the gravel crushed under his feet for what felt like the longest time. Then his gaze lingered to his lower half, and he thought:
‘Please, please don’t gimme no daughters. Please.’
He was forty-five. The time for making babies and raising daughters to be anything like a woman of your ilk was probably long past him. All the same, he kept his gaze on his crotch and sighed. Balls, you better not betray me.
When he heard the crunch of rocks, he turned around.
“HEY!”
Oh, no. No. Not tonight.
You were staggering to your car, keys in hand.
“Hey!” Joel called again, jogging after you.
It seemed the second shout had done him no more favors than the first. You were fumbling to get the key inside the door, and you looked as determined as ever.
Over your shoulder, you tossed back, careless:
“You ain’t the boss of me, Tommy Miller.”
You got the key to turn. You opened the door. You were just about to climb inside what looked to Joel to be the ugliest Dodge Ram pickup he’d seen in his life, when he grabbed your arm.
“It’s Joel,” he growled. Pinching your elbow tight as he tugged it back, “And you ain’t driving anywhere tonight.”
Somewhere in front of him, tilted away from his line of vision, you must’ve been grinning, because the next thing he heard from you was the scoff of a laugh.
“Oh yeah?”
Joel flipped you around to face him.
“Yeah,” he snapped.
Feeling a bit like a kid for mimicking your tone.
What were you, twenty-two? Twenty-three? You couldn’t have been a patron of a place like Tipsy Bison for very long, or else he would’ve recognized you tonight.
Then again, you struck him as the type to have had a fake ID since you were fifteen, so he really couldn’t know.
“I’m twenny-wuh-un,” you slurred up at him, exaggerated, once he’d made you step down from the running board and onto the ground. Answering his last unspoken question with the same, sleepy grin as before. Then lifting one of your hands to wag a finger in his face, “I can drink legal anywhere I want to in this country.”
“Not there,” Joel nodded to the interstate.
You looked to where he’d gestured and whistled. Standing and staring, like he had done to his crotch.
“Well fuck me-e!” you said next, dragging out the sound a childish amount, “You the law or somethin’, Mr. Joel?”
“Ain’t no cop.” Joel rolled his eyes.
You kept smiling. Then you turned on your heels.
And instead of trying to climb back into your truck, you sauntered off—in what direction, Joel couldn’t tell. You were more so bumbling about, turning in circles like the world’s most scantily-clad, semi-intoxicated ballerina. And then you stopped. You put your hands on your hips.
“‘Cause I’m the law,” you resumed in a slow, deliberate drawl. The twang you used was mostly feigned, “And you cain’t beat the law. Don’t nobody get away with that, not even a bunch’a Alabama smart alecks, believe you me.”
Joel didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about. The man was Texas born and bred, and you knew it.
He communicated as much by pinning you with a wide, bewildered stare, and something in that seemed to amuse. You stared back, making your eyes bug out too.
“It’s a quote from a movie,” you said, after a beat, “You’ve never seen Fried Green Tomatoes before?”
Joel couldn’t say that he had.
Joel reckoned there was a lot more than just movies he didn’t share in common with you. Miss Twenty-One. Barely a year past the age he’d been when he’d moved out of the house and tried to make a living on his own.
This woman, this girl he saw twirling out in front of him now probably couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel if he’d asked you to. Joel shook his head and moved his feet, frown etching deep.
“Alright, princess. Up.”
You didn’t seem to understand, until he’d lifted you. Up.
You were thrown over his shoulder and carried to a truck much nicer than yours in less than fifteen seconds or so.
“Stinks in here,” you said as soon as he’d set you down.
Then, sniffing the air—and grinning:
“Aw, hell, Miller…you smoke?”
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Joel wished he’d said no.
Wished he’d rolled his eyes and told you to pipe down, stop asking him questions. It would’ve made the drive a whole lot easier, and more peaceful. Nowhere near as painful, either, if he were being perfectly honest—the strain in his jeans had already gotten to be more than he could bear, and all you’d asked for was a pack of smokes.
“They call ‘em Cowboy Killers,” you said, matter-of-fact.
“I know what they’re called,” Joel grumbled in reply. Flicking the radio on and hoping to find a tune that would drown out the too-lovely, cloying voice you’d assumed as soon as you thought you might win a cigarette off of him. More chatty now than ever.
And for one, blissful moment, Toby Keith had you beat. The calm was fleeting. As soon as ‘Who’s Your Daddy’ started to drift through the car’s old speakers, you reached across and turned the knob to the left.
“Gross,” you muttered.
“What?”
“Got a light?”
“Blow me.”
Joel’s harsh, clipped tone was deliberate. The way he’d made himself mean—meaner than he’d been around a woman in a long, long time—was a choice. He couldn’t let your faux sweetness win him now. Not after you’d thrown two drinks in his face, mocked his truck, and foreclosed any possibility of getting laid by way of all your publicized infidelity philippics and shit-talking. Giving in to your charms from where you sat in the passenger seat now would only sink him further in his own esteem. Simply put, Joel’s ego couldn’t take it.
“Okie doke,” you said presently. Shrugging.
“Now keep your—HEY!”
Joel nearly swerved his truck off the road and into a ditch. Your deft little hands had slipped into his lap—and started palming his crotch through the denim.
He’d just managed to right the vehicle before jerking a look your way, staring at your hand, then your face:
“What the fuck was that?!”
“You said ‘blow me,’ Joel!” you huffed, and you seriously appeared as distraught as he was, “Sorry for listening!”
Joel grit his teeth with all the force of a cold steel trap.
“You’re fuckin’ nuts.” He gripped the wheel even tighter.
“I’m aware.”
“Where the hell do you live, anyway?”
You told him.
Your hand slipped down to the seat beside him.
And just as Joel let out what felt like the tiniest sigh of relief—he knew where that was, and the address sounded vaguely familiar—he yelped again. This time, he managed to keep control of his truck, but it was hard.
Your fingers had returned, and they were kneading the bulge under his jeans. Joel flushed from head to toe.
He didn’t have so much as half a mind to make you stop. He didn’t want to see you slink back over to your side of the car. But you were twenty-one, and he was forty-five. And you were both under the influence to some degree. And he was driving, for fuck’s sake. Shit like that only worked in dreams—not on a highway in a town like this.
He turned the radio dial to 75. At length, he heard it loud:
‘WHO’S YOUR DADDY? WHO’S YOUR BA-A-A-ABY?’
He saw you cringe.
“C’mon, Joel,” you groaned, “That’s…yuck.”
The fingers of the one hand kept digging, rubbing, but the other reached out and turned the music down again.
Joel shifted in his seat, feeling the pleasure start to bloom from the pit of his stomach, but not wanting to let you off that easy. Briefly, he looked from the road to you.
“What? You got a problem with Toby Keith?”
“I got a problem with anyone sayin’ ‘daddy’ like that.”
You unzipped his fly. Popped the button of his jeans from underneath the soft shelf of belly hanging over it, and held him, finally. You could only cup his erection through his boxers at that point, but the friction was enough to send a shiver through the whole of the old man’s body. He hadn’t been touched like that by a hand that wasn’t his own in…he couldn’t remember how long. He sighed.
“That why you’ve got your hand down the pants of a man old enough to be your father?” Joel quipped.
He couldn’t help it.
Your hand only gripped him tighter. From the passenger seat, you’d leaned over and started crawling. Scowling.
Your knees swiftly planted themselves on the old, upholstered cushion of the bucket seat, and you slipped a touch beneath the waistband of his underwear. With a hand that was smooth and soft and eager to please, you wrapped your fingers around that base and leaned in.
“You sound like you want me to say it,” you whispered.
Under your hand, he pulsed. His gaze stayed on the road.
“Don’t make no difference to me, sweet pea,” he said, and was amazed how even he was able to keep his tone:
“But those ‘Cowboy Killers’ you wanted…”
Your fingers curled tighter. Your head sank lower.
“…they don’t come cheap, y’know.”
Oh, you knew. He saw a smile snag at the corners of your lips as you brought them to his lap, and he had to force himself to look at the road again. It was empty and dark.
The tarmac stretched out for days. The fields rolling past warned sternly, ‘Don’t let her win,’ and something more in between each tree seemed to invite deliberation—remembrance, maybe. Joel was far too focused on the feel of your mouth to give the woods a second thought.
You’d worked the first inch between your lips in a slick, obscene sort of kiss; you made room for just the head and then toyed with a bead of precum leaking out of his slit. You licked it, squeezed the shaft in your hand, and hummed while the first real moan rumbled through him.
Joel turned to putty with just that flick of your tongue. He didn’t have to see your face to know he was losing.
On the wheel, his grip grew tighter, and he choked out:
“Ain’t your fuckin’ lollypop, kid.”
Then, dropping one hand to push down on your head—make you take him to the back of your throat in one go.
“Daddy wants you to suck him like a big girl, hear?”
At the base of his cock, he felt you gag. From the bottom of his heart, Joel knew there was no sound sweeter than that. He ran his fingers over your skull and tapped gently.
“If you want those smokes,” he told you—and really, with all the warmth and moisture of your mouth enveloping him now, he’d had to try to sound rougher than he was, “You’re gonna do what daddy says and suck him right.”
You gagged again, then squeezed his denim-clad leg with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his member.
Joel yanked you by your hair and made you look up.
Your cheeks were already smeared with spit and tears. Much to his surprise, he found your eyes alight and soft.
Suffused with desire, too, from what he could see.
“Yes, daddy.” You grinned up at him.
Joel knew if he let your gaze stay on his a second longer now he’d either crash his car, blow his load, or fall in love—and he simply refused to let you succeed on any of those fronts, so he shoved your face back down.
You sucked him obediently. Greedily. Mouth growing more pliant and wet by the second, as if your jaw and salivary glands had contrived to get him as close to release as possible, as quickly as they were able.
Joel took a left onto a road he had only a dim recognition as being connected to yours, and he got that feeling again. You were bobbing your head, taking him further, flattening your tongue along the bottom of his member when his pleasure swelled inside him. At the same time, he felt a sense of dread. His hands were shaking on the wheel. He didn’t dare steal a look down to the sweet, soaked, perfect little mouth sucking him dry, because he knew that feeling would only strike twice as hard. He had to cum, or make you stop, or bring his truck to a halt.
As it was, he felt five tiny crescents sink into his thigh as you gripped him tighter, and a noise bubbled up in your mouth. Your breathing went shallow, and your lips stretched wide—you were trying, and succeeding, in deep-throating his thick, throbbing, much-too-old-for-a-girl-her-age member down close to your windpipe, and Joel could feel it. He hit his blinker, not thinking, and saw a sign that marked your street. Trepidation hit him again.
Fully, this time, in a feeling that was more like terror.
He didn’t have another second to question it, either. By the time he had the old, lone farmhouse in his sights and his heart nearly halfway up his throat with fear, your own throat pulsed, and opened the last two inches to him in. Your nose found their home in the rough, grey, wiry hairs at the base of his belly, having swallowed him whole, and Joel quickly sensed the start of what he knew too well.
He came down your throat in one, two, three, four, five long spurts, and didn’t let his foot off the gas even once.
He saw your house, approaching closer now, and paled.
No fucking way.
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You’d wanted to skip the whole way up your drive.
Spit still drying on your cheeks, cum resting comfortably in your belly, and a smile as bright as the sun on your face as you waved to the F-150 pulling off toward the road, you’d never felt more alive—or smug—in your life.
“Is your dad…Lucien Flores?” Joel had asked no more than a second after his dick slipped out of your mouth.
“The one and only.”
Somehow, his face got even paler. His jaw visibly clenched, and his palm hit the top of the wheel. Hard.
It was then that you’d learned your father had hired Joel Miller on as a full-time ranch hand sometime last week.
He’d remembered the address, vaguely, but didn’t connect the dots until he’d pulled up in front of your house and damn near punctured your windpipe with his pulsing dick from how fast he’d jumped up—and cum.
His spend had almost shot through your nose with the force of it, but you didn’t mind. Once he’d revealed the wild, gory, and admittedly hilarious details of his newfound employment, you were too busy laughing your ass off to care if he’d torn your throat in two with his dick.
“So you really are a cowboy, then,” you’d said, giggling.
Joel had scowled. Rolled his eyes. Practically turned the color of a tomato when you leaned in and kissed him.
Now you were waving to him from your front door.
Joel’s truck was slow to go. The taste of him was fresh.
And there, weighing light in your back pocket while you said goodbye was a brand new pack of Marlboro Reds.
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2:21 AM
You were safely in bed. You checked your phone.
Aside from fourteen missed calls, you saw:
1:09 AM – Maria
DUDE
1:09 AM
TOMMY JUST CAME HOME
1:09 AM
THAT’S NOT HIM AT THE BAR
1:13 AM
IT’S JUST JOEL!! HIS BROTHER!!!
1:13 AM
ABORT ABORT ABORT
1:42 AM
DAVE SAID YOU BEAT JOEL UP???? CALL ME
1:54 AM – Dave York
Ur gonna fuck that old dude aren’t u
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redcherrykook · 3 months ago
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──𐙚 delicate seashell - beach vibe, hotel sex
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────୨ৎ────
content: friendgroup beach trip, hotel sex, penetrative sex, sweet loving, kind of body worship, established relationship, oral (fem), "gguk" bc its hawt
note from cherry: ignore the typos pls it's late :(
────୨ৎ────
summer hit seoul like a ton of bricks, the usual rainy weather turnings into 40 degree Celsius heat, living without aircon? Impossible.
For the first week of vacation that your work has granted, your far less busy friends and boyfriend all gather up for a trip
Fuck it, let's fly to jeju and enjoy the seaside while the sun lasts
Although blaring and someone unbearable from sweat drenched clothes, noting beats a beach day with enough suncream and fruit to cool off
"Soojin, are you gonna be ready soon?" namjoon calls out, your best friends boyfriend being just as impatient as she is,
"Seriously? We just started getting ready!" She shouts back, rolling her eyes at the closed door,
Sully who's also your childhood bestie, and you share a giggle at Soojin's typical behavior
"Baby?" a soft voice calls out for you, sticking his head into the small gap of the huge hotel bathroom, three girls still in pj's that are busy with skincare and waterproof mascara or the perfect bun all inside
His eyes only land on you, if the other two didn't speak, you're sure he wouldn't even have noticed
"Kook? You okay?" You turn, caressing his head with your hand,
"Yeah, we're gonna ahead though, if that's cool with you? Like, set up the chairs and drink station" he says, now stepped fully inside the doorframe, his hands finding your tshirt covered waist immediately
"If you promise not to look at girls in bikinis?" you raise an eyebrow, cracking into a smile shortly after
And my god did he look irresistible, already in swim shorts with that white muscle shirt that did nothing but show off his ripped body, big arms fully on display and his abs peaking out from the side of the opening
He tsk's , kissing your forhead softly
"You're crazy ma, you know damn well i only care for you" his voice is delicate when he speaks,
"Ew gross get out already" sully yells, even though she's 3 meters away from him
"Grooooosss they boutta start fucking in here" Soojin adds, making a disgusted face for you to see in the mirror
Jungkook laughs, "Sure ladies, take your time" surrendering to the fight against two very protective best friends, he leaves the room
Leaving you to continue your grwm session, 30 mins later, all three off you leave in your bikinis, bags stuffed with change of clothes, hairbrushes and something to keep you distracted
"what the fuck" your boyfriend mutters when he spots you from afar,
Even while laying on a foldable chair, just being able to make out your silhouette in the distance is enough to make him drool, willing to drop to his knees for any taste of you he can get
The dirty thoughts only become louder urges when you stand in front of him, setting your bag down,
As if the tiny, red triangle- tie up bikini doesn't already reveal enough to him, the way you bend down right there, tits almost falling out of their hold, pushed together by the bikini throws him off even more
He's sweating, nervously thinking how he would be able to keep his dick soft for hours if you're gonna walk around like that
"Baby" he says sternly, the look in his eyes letting you know that you're playing with fire, but you don't seem to care, smiling at him when you lay down on the chair right beside his,
"Ahhh, the breeze is so nice" you hum, closing your eyes momentarily to take in the roaring waves and rays of sunlight
Unable to stop himself for devouring you with his eyes, he just allows it
Tracing over your collarbones, the way your waist dips in before the squishy roundness of your hips, how your thicker thighs press up against the chair, making the string bottom appear even smaller on your covered cunt
It cant get worse, right?
Unless you decide on what you're doing right now, letting your beautiful hair out of the bun's restraint, shiny stands flowing messily over your chest area
You notice his obvious staring, looking at his needy eyes and spotting the suspicious looking bulge inside his swimmers,
Jaehyun shoots Jungkook a look as if to say "you cannot be serious" once he also notices the effect your innocent swim attire has on the younger friend
You stand up from the chair abruptly, while looking at Jungkook's dick you noticed how muscular and comfortable his thighs look,
"Baby please" he whispers into your ear, your ass planted down right on his bulge, the tiny string doing nothing to create an extra barrier
His hands move to caress your thighs, his chest pressed up against your back while he's trying his best not to grind you down on him in front of your whole friend group
"Namjoon, you need to cover my back well" Soojin says to her boyfriend when turning around and jungkook is sure he will thank her for this to the end of time, something in his brain lights up,
"Oh shit, i totally forgot about sunscreen. Lets go grab it" his finger nudges your side, a clear clue for you to agree and get up with him,
Why would you ever deny him anyways?
Your friends watch you leave hand in hand, rushing back for... the sunscreen..
"They're gonna fuck aren't they" Sully says, looking over to the rest with an annoyed look,
"Yep" Soojin answers, popping the p at the end,
"Whatever i'm going in" jaehyun announces, dragging sully up with him to push the unsuspecting girl into the water
"Fuck baby this bikini is too sexy, i can't take it" Jungkook says against your skin, immediately attaching himself to your neck the second the door shuts
He's gentle but desperate in his kisses, moving along messily but not putting on too much pressure, kissing his way all along your jawline, down to your neck and collarbones where be begins to nibble,
"So pretty, this body of yours is driving me crazy" his soft moans make your skin react, goosebumps spreading fast while you run your fingers along the muscle of his shoulder
He unties your top in no time, kissing and licking at your nipple while his hand stimulates the other one, groping and tugging on the pink flesh ws gently as he can
"Feels so good gguk" your nails dig into his shoulders, chest arching into his mouth with loud whimpers of pleasure flowing from your lips,
He responds by moaning, biting down on your nipple softly before switching sides, teasing and kissing with so much love
"I love your tits so much, they are perfect so perfect" Jungkook stops, big doe eyes looking up at you with need, one hand moves down to cup your pussy,
"let me eat it please , i wanna taste you so bad baby, please let me eat that sweet little pussy out" the way his desperation becomes evident in his pleas instantly weakens your will to tease him, nodding to him with a small bite to your lip
He wastes no time carrying you to the soft silk of the hotel bed, spreading your legs with his hands and dragging the string down from your hips,
"Mnhmm baby you smell so good" his kisses trail down your abdomen until they halt on the outside of your pussy, moving to your inner thighs instead, his hands working to caress you in the meantime
"Gguk please" you whine, squirming under the soft touch of his hands running down the inside of your thigh,
He smiles, leaning his head down between your thighs, right in front of your glistening cunt,
Thumbing your clit side to side, he takes a second to admire you, back arched just for him
"Cute pussy, all mine"
"Mghmm yes!" your high voice cries out, fingers finding his small locks and engulfing them into you, tugging at them while simultaneously pushing his head further into your neediness
"Just like that" you continue rambling, grinding your heat against his skilled, warm tongue that's working hard to lapp up all your juices
His tongue is tireldessly pushing into your hole, fucking you until you can't help but shake,
"You taste so good pretty"
"Prettiest girl" he whispers, blowing some air on your swollen clit, his cock throbbing inside his swimshorts as much as your soaked entrance
"Want your cock please baby!"
He stops, pressing a kiss to your cunt before crashing his covered lips onto yours, your hands busying with his shorts, pulling his hard on out with a sigh
Then, you turn sideways to kiss his neck, licking over his sweet spots and making him moan until he can't wait anymore, gently lowering your back on the bed and aligning his stiff dick against your entrance
"God so tight" he whines, hands getting lost in the flesh on your hips, you moan from feeling so full,
His bicep flexes while he begins thrusting into you, as needy and hot as it is, he's slow and firm nonethelss, keeping his eye contact with you
"You're beautiful" he smiles, referring to so much more than your tits slapping against each other erotically, than your little cunt drenched in slick or your soft face in the sunlight, he means everything, every little detail on your skin, that mole on your neck, that sound from your lips, the way you touch him, the way you love him
"You feel so so good, so pretty too ggukie" your moans are genuine and long, not hasty or in a rush to release
He does feel himself get close when you begin touching his torso, abs flexing with the little touches and his cock becoming more and more desperate to paint your gummy walls white
Savoring the moment with a passionate kiss, he caresses your hips and listens carefully to your moans,
"Almost there pretty, cum for me" his encouragement drives you up the edge, the, getting pushed over it by his finger drawing small circles on your oversensitive clit
You cum blissfully, coating his cock in your essence while he paints you with his, smiling into ths open mouthed, messy kiss
"Mhm.. i love you" he breathes out, kissing your cheek repeated, his softer cock remaining inside you
"I love.. you too jungkook" you reciprocrate, pressings a tiny kiss to his nose
The romantic moment is disturbed by your phone buzzing,
Soojin: did u find the suncream or did he cream you instead?
Both of you giggle, sending a selfie that shows both of you are probably naked, happy and definitely naked.
── ‧ ୨୧ @luvismenu
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screampied · 10 months ago
Note
boss at work and lovers in private w hiromi? He was very strict with the user at work and acts a bit rude/mean sometimes with reader.
But once they got home he fucks her nice and slow in bed as an apology for being mean at work <3
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❤︎ ໋𓈒 higuruma who’s strictly mean in the workplace but makes sure to make it up to you at home.
warnings. fem! reader, dirty talk, unprotected, doggystyle, praise.
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higuruma was a man who always took work seriously…
a workaholic if you will.
you always found yourself trying to tease him sometimes whenever he’d be working, and he’d just give you a glare. oftentimes, he’d be a bit stern and perhaps rude. although you couldn’t deny the bass in his tone whenever he spoke to you with such seriousness made you feel a bit…tingly.
just the rough rasp in his tone whenever he spoke directly to you, withholding intimate eye contact and telling you to stop fooling around and focus at the job at hand.
nevertheless, he did feel a bit bad, in fear that feasibly he was a bit too mean to his pretty baby. so he promises to make it up to you once the two of you get home. and that’s exactly what he does.
you couldn’t wait and neither could he. higuruma remained with his work clothes on, long black slacks pulled down briefly and the only sounds you could make out was the clanking of his belt. letting off a choked whine, you were willingly taking him from behind, and his touch..
higuruma stretches you out continuously with such ease, he’s got both of your wrists pinned behind your back before muttering, “i’m sorry baby. was i annoying you earlier?”
“y-yeah.” you moaned, feeling his tip brush right against that spot.
amorously, he slides a tongue across his lips while drilling into your cunt—you’re a stuttering mess. with a low chuckle departing from his lips, he hums.
“good,” and you bite your lip, his thrusts fulfilling you entirely. each sloppy hit that went against you time and time again, it left your mind completely dumbfounded. a quite perfect synonym to define your current state after all. “oh, don't whine all cute like that, y’know ‘m just teasing..”
higuruma’s words were so smooth and his tone was wholly soft spoken.
for a second, he dips his hips against you and you whimper, running your restrained fingers against his.
“god, you’re so pretty from behind. you know that, sweetheart?” his words went straight towards your pussy, that never failed to twitch on constant repeat. “such a perfect view. wish you could see for yourself, my love.”
“h-hirooo,” you’d mewl out, the right side of your cheek pressed down against the plump mattress. he knew just where to strike you with his dick, not too rough and not too soft.
just right. immensely, your toes curled each time he’d run his tip against your g-spot for a good two seconds, eliciting a loud moan from you. “fuck, f-fuck.”
“baby, you’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh?” he pokes fun, and you shiver once you feel the cold band of his watch trail against your skin. he presses a hand down your back, making you arch for him just a bit more and your eyes roll back yet again. “you’ve been pestering me at work all day, ‘s this what you wanted hm? wanted some attention—?”
the pleasures that pierced through your body was indefinable.
all you knew was that it felt so good, the way he pivots and smacks his hips softly against your ass, rolling and rotating them to where your head’s spinning like a merri go round.
“no,” you lied, and he huffs out a breath, grinning at you still having some brat left within you. once he deepens his thrusts for a short second, your mind pauses—you’re dumb, cock dumb if that even was a correct term for it, and you moan out. “y-yes.. you’re right, you were just so m-mean.”
he groans, feeling your slick start to stick against him throughout each movement he makes by rutting in and out of your greedy pussy.
“if i make you cum one more time, will that make up for it then, sweetheart?”
“m-mhm,” you’d nod, strings of your own spit falling against the sheets — oh, how much of a mess you were for him. only higuruma could have you like this, in this position. face nearly pushed against the mattress yet he’s presenting you with soft gentle thrusts. “make me cum, please hiromi.”
“pretty girl, you know i will,” he murmurs, and you let off a muffled moan once you bite your teeth into the pillow that remained underneath your chest. it was just the way his thickness dragged so easily against your folds. you could never get enough, his size had you drooling with such lewdness. “relax, don’t wanna strain that cute voice with all that moaning do ya?”
he watches you shake your head, and he chortles.
“sweet thing,” and his hips were so sensual against you, it was unfathomable to how good it made you feel. how good he made you feel. in the pit of your stomach—you felt something stirring, brewing up inside. butterflies perhaps, you pulsed between your thighs before he feels your leg start to jitter in utter anticipation. “ooh. ‘s coming isn’t it? you feel it too, my love?”
“r-right there,” you’d squeal, and by this particular point, your legs grew limp. his movements were unpredictable. higuruma’s jaw tightens as he’s balls deep, gawking at you clawing your nails down the white silkened sheets before bawling it up into the palms of your hands. “gonna c-cum, hiro. hiro.”
he slides a thumb against the corner of your back, maintaining a gentle tip against your hips before uttering in a husky voice, “yeah you are. c’mon baby. just let go for me. ‘s okay to be a little messy, yeah?”
“okay,” you’d babble, such thick inches that remained inside of you. your knees grew weak, he had such a grip against your waist that the pads of his thumbs pressed lightly down before caressing. higuruma always knew your most tenderest bits, the spots to drive you crazy. “h-hiro, ‘m cumming..”
a gasp exits from your mouth once you felt it, your entire body paused and juddered as a response.
your lips parted and the feeling made you grow quiet for a moment — ears, the very tips of them reaching such warmth of heat before you moan out his name once more. “t-thank you, thank you.”
“don’t thank me yet, gorgeous.” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss against your back. “we aren’t done,” he says, and your legs still shook, sensitive before he turns you over to face him, pressing a wet kiss against your mouth. “i need more of you, and you need to be reminded of your place,” and his words were filled with such flirtatiousness yet was delivered so sweet. “so, just lie back and let me fond over this body just a little while longer.”
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foldingfittedsheets · 3 months ago
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I am a little creature largely made up of anxieties. There have been times in my life when it was worse. It’s currently significantly better. This story takes place at a time when it was pretty bad.
Food was a prison for me. I moved out early with very little idea of how to feed or care for myself. Every meal was a question mark. For three years I had Brendan doing most of the cooking but when things ended between us I moved in with some other friends. I suddenly had no way to feed myself again.
I was working at the sex shop and living with all my coworkers; a premise that would make sitcom writers weep. In that house, at the age of 24, I learned how to fry an egg. It was the only thing I knew how to do but by god, I mastered egg frying. I was so proud. I could now have one stress free meal a day of an egg on toast.
The problem was my roommates. Living with three other people is already tough but messes pile up alarmingly fast, especially in the kitchen. No one sees the whole mess as their responsibility but the one person who’s responsibility it absolutely wasn’t was mine, as I only ever cooked eggs. Glaciers moved quicker than the dishes got done, mountains of greasy unwashed dish ware were fixtures across the counters.
My friends occasionally cooked for me and each time I happily cleaned all the resulting dishes. This seemed fair.
But on my own I only used three implements for my egg. When I finished with my spatula, pan, and plate, I carefully washed them and set them to dry. Every time I came back to the kitchen there was nothing clean.
Crusted on ketchup, dried food, and unsavory residues plagued everything I needed to touch. So I ended up doing all the dishes twice, once to use my three implements and again once I was done.
I started to realize I’d come home, see the filthy pile of dishes, then go to bed without eating because I didn’t have the energy to wash it all. So I finally addressed my roommates about it. Please, I beseeched them, can these three things always be clean. I cannot function like this, and eating is already hard for me.
The answer returned: no. My request was deemed unreasonable and a counteroffer was made to turn off the small space heater I ran in my room in exchange for them magnanimously cleaning up after themselves. I declined, as my bones ached with cold everywhere except my room since no one else wanted the heat on. The impasse continued. I went to be hungry.
I noodled on it. I schemed. I plotted. And on my day off I went to a thrift shop and acquired a nice little pan and spatula. I squirreled them away into my closet. The plan was just to wash and dry it after meals and keep it in my room.
This is not how it went down. On day one of my pan coming home one of my roommates popped into my room to chat, glanced into my three quarters shut closet and immediately said, “What is that?”
I sighed and admitted my plan. All three roommates roundly condemned my plan as extremely passive aggressive. I tried once again to explain that I wasn’t eating, but my secret pan was now a source of contention, a precious resource held back from the collective.
Their discontent reached a fever pitch and I finally declared, “Fine! I will put my pan in the kitchen. On one condition. If I ever find this pan dirty, ever, I will scrape whatever is left on it into your bedding. I swear to god, if I ever come home to it being dirty there will be a reckoning.”
Terms were agreed.
The first month or two went okay. On the third month I awoke to eat breakfast and found my precious pan sullied. I grabbed it and marched upstairs. Betty was named as the culprit. I strode into Betty’s room and stood over her sleeping form like the vengeful ghost of dishes past.
“If you don’t get up and clean this right now I’m going to dump it on your bed.”
Betty groggily regarded me. “Seriously?”
“I have never been more serious.”
“It’s one time, can’t you just clean it yourself?”
“No. You promised.”
With much huffing and grousing Betty arose from bed and tromped downstairs, hastily cleaning my pan while I watched. “Happy?” She demanded.
I was. I made my egg, cheerfully cleaning the pan afterward, leaving it to dry.
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