[dilfstarr]

◜ afro indigenous 。°・ ִ ۫ ּ twenty-two 。°・ ִ ۫ ּ here for the dilfs & everyone in between 。°・ ִ ۫ ּ eighteen plus blog 。°・ ִ ۫ ּ fun facts ◞

⊹ ᨘ໑. take a peek into my wild imagination

[liliacsdelight]

Connie Springer gives me:

[dilfstarr]

agreed!! specifically plug!connie. . . walk with me

i can imagine him stationary in between clients, picking you up just to devote his spare time to you. he’s looking over, hints of crimson tinting his sunken, weighted eyes from the invariable exposure of secondhand smoke. connie is nodding at whatever you're saying but in reality, he’s not listening to a single word you’re saying—just roaming those pretty hazel eyes across your face, studying the way your face contorts while you express your thoughts. He could listen to you talk forever. the world moves in slow motion outside of his windows all while this song is creeping from speakers, curling around you both akin to a ravenous python. he interrupts you with good intentions—only to whisper, “you’re so pretty, baby.”

[shawtuzi]

MORNING DEW (DONK) FT. EREN YEAGER

summary: it’s the morning after the grammys, and after a night of restless lovemaking, you decide to continue your antics before the sun even fully rises.

cw include: black fem!reader, musician!eren, musician!reader, some messy kisses, morning sex, unprotected sex, riding, missionary, dirty talk, praise n’ some real sweet talking, rennie gets a little emotional, creampie, brief aftercare// wc: 4.5k

a/n: i’m a few days late w/ this but i very much enjoyed writing itttt—i missed my rennie baby so so much hehe!! the shibari sugu fic will be dropping after this, idk when, but it’s coming fs bc i didn’t write 26k words so far for nothin!!

ᥫ᭡ you know the sun rise for you, give me that mornin’ dew . . . ᥫ᭡

never in a million years did you think you’d be here. here—in a hotel suite, tangled up in five hundred thread count sheets with your former ex, now current boyfriend again, eren.

he was soundly asleep, defined chest rising and falling slowly as his eyes moved rapidly behind the lids. he must’ve been dreaming.

you’d been watching him sleep for lord knows how long. you were once watching him in the dark, mostly listening to his even breaths, but sky slowly got brighter, giving you a better view of him. your chin rested on your knee as you took in his exhausted form, and then your mind eventually drifted to the night before . . .

sunday night—the night of the grammys.

an important night for you and eren given that you both dropped albums, followed by a couple extra projects a year prior. coincidentally, they were set for release within days of each other—his dropping only five days after yours.

it didn’t bother you in the slightest. whether it was intentional or not, you paid little to no mind to it since you didn’t want anything to do with your ex and his music. all you wanted to focus on was you.

this was your self-titled. the album that would define you to everyone in the industry and the world. no man was going to steal that shine.

but thankfully, those were not eren’s intentions. it was an error made by his team.

and he was able to explain this all to you and more when you surprisingly made an appearance to his release party. he invited you, hesitantly, to be friendly— not expecting to see you there all dolled up. the vintage dolce & gabbana you were wearing hugged your curves perfectly that night.

now you plan it to wear it to all your future anniversary dates.

a low hum momentarily broke you out of your thoughts, your gaze focusing on eren, who was quietly stirring in his sleep. his thick brows scrunched together, a pout forming on his raw, kiss bitten lips. seconds later, his features rested, low snores filling the quiet space once again.

he was so cute.

you missed him, you really did—but you were glad he was different now after being apart for almost three years.

the eren you knew before was sweet and doting when he wanted to be, yes. but he wasn’t very good at prioritizing things . . . or revealing his emotions . . . or apologizing without some kind of expensive gift to sway your feelings. he was slowly losing himself. things that were intertwined perfectly between the two of you began to unwind and wilt away.

for these reasons, you ended things. and it wasn’t pretty.

eren was heartbroken. i’m talking falling to his knees with his tear stained face buried in your skirt. you’ll never forget the way his hands splayed over your lower back, pulling you closer n’ closer so you wouldn’t leave. or the way his voice cracked when he tried to explain why he just wasn’t being a good boyfriend. he asked—pleaded to know what he could do to fix it, what he could give you to fix it.

but it was too late for poor rennie. you were already too far gone and confident in your decision.

he eventually let you leave without any kind of fight, and after sitting outside his house for a good forty five minutes, you left.

eren wasn’t afraid to spill his broken heart and frustration into his music, andit did numbers of course. but it also had fans talking. things were escalated even further when they noticed eren was completely wiped from your social media. people were devastated to hear that their favorite couple were broken up to say the least.

you didn’t say much about the breakup at all besides for one interview where you simply said, ‘sometimes people just outgrow each other.’

it was already hard enough dealing with it on your own—the last thing you wanted to do was do a deep dive of your failed relationship with some stranger who was getting paid to milk the story out of you.

but you did drop little hints every now and again in your music about your healing heart and the relationship you mourned.

after a few months things went back to normal in your world, but eren still lingered in the form of flowers. birthdays, holidays, whenever you won an award—you were always gifted with an expensive bouquet, along with a handwritten note.

he was actually able to secure himself a dinner with you with flowers. a luxury bouquet of peonies and roses with a card congratulating you for your self titled going number one, along with a dinner invitation to celebrate you and your craft.

he wasn’t a sore loser about coming up second. he was excited for you. proud of you. he knew how much your music meant to you, and after listening three different times to all thirteen tracks, eren could feel everything you put into it.

“are you watching me sleep?”

the sound of eren’s raspy, morning voice broke you out of your thoughts for the umpteenth time that morning. a smile spread across your lips, “maybe.”

“ . . . weirdo. c’mere.”

the sheets ruffled beneath you as you crawled over to him. his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. you made a small noise, the ache in your thighs that you were feeling earlier returning.

“my phones been goin’ off all morning. i’d say our first public appearance reunited went great,” you mumbled into his chest. his skin was scorching beneath your lips, and the faint smell of his cologne still lingering after hours of sexcapades.

eren squeezed at your side, his fingers aligning with the bruising marks he left only a few hours prior. “i didn’t think you’d care about that shit. we looked happy . . in love . . i couldn’t imagine it going any other way.”

“i don’t care about that shit . . . but it is nice to know that people are happy to see us together again.” you were looking up at him now with bright eyes and smudged liner. his hair caught your attention, all prettily splayed across the fluffy pillow. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss those soft, dark brown locs.

you had a bit of an obsession with them. always running your fingers through them while he played on his game system or wrote music. tugging on them whenever he annoyed you or was acting like an ass—not only was the reaction cute from his nose scrunching up, but he got the message to not fuck with you.

a sliver of sunlight finally came through the window, catching your attention and his.

“god, why are you up so early? didn’t i put you back to sleep around three?” your man groaned, scratching tiredly at his head. his brows raised only slightly when you pressed a kiss to his pec once. twice.

he was still bare, obviously, and as were you. after having sex for the first time in years after the award show, you both couldn’t keep your hands off one another afterwards so going commando was the only suitable option.

yep, thats right. even when reunited for almost a year, the two of you didn’t have sex until last night. for you and the age you were at, sex was feeling very sacred and intimate—and given your past with rennie, you were very much on the hesitant side when it came to having him indulge in your body like that once more.

you thought it might irk him, make him pull away from lack of intimacy in that area. but like it was stated before, rennie was different a man. he was twenty six, going on twenty seven in just a month. his frontal lobe had fully developed it seemed, because baby boy was definitely more mature and communicative with his thoughts this time around.

that irritating ass attitude he sported, even when he first cracked open his eyes from sleep, was the only thing that didn’t seem to fade away.

but just because sex wasn’t on the table didn’t mean other . . . . things weren’t done.

you couldn’t deny that eren had gotten more attractive and defined as time went by. his hair was a bit longer, he got a few new tattoos, and he was just . . . bigger. no longer a lanky man with semi-thin arms, and small ridges for abs.

he didn’t party as much like he used to, the lack of alcohol and more time in the gym doing him some good physically and mentally. his time was now being spent either writing music, producing beats, or meditating if he had the time.

it was work work work with this man until you came back in the picture.

whenever he wasn’t working, he was with you—somewhere off the grid, and basking in your presence. it took him two months to work up the courage and finally kiss you, and as the weeks went on after that he became more touchy. playing with your syrupy cunt was as sexy as it got for him during those months, but he didn’t mind one bit.

it was all worth the wait once he was finally able to pin you down and fuck you oh so sweetly into the king size bed you were in now.

you went three? four rounds? you honestly lost track after he had you squirting from backshots around three a.m.

now here you were, head resting prettily on his chest, with his strong, warm arms wrapped around you. all while his heart thrummed a steady beat against your ear.

but there was just one problem. you were feeling rather needy again, despite the ache in your lower half.

“gimme a kiss.”

eren didn’t say anything. he just looked down at you with this blank stare on his face. then, he raised his chin up, signaling for you to come closer.

he didn’t expect you to swing your leg over his waist, and get comfy on his stomach, but he wasn’t complaining. your pussy felt . . . soft, warm against his already heated skin. he could feel the slick collecting, pride swelling in his chest that this was a sight only he’d have the honor of seeing.

“kiss me then,” he murmured, trailing a tatted hand up your side. goosebumps rose along your skin, and a familiar heat pooled in your lower belly when you finally pressed your lips against his.

it was soft, sweet. when you pulled away he was squeezing at your side, a silent plea for you to stay close. you kissed him again, and this time it was longer, a small whimper bubbling in the back of your throat.

eren’s free hand cupped your cheek for a brief moment, deepening the kiss. he suckled on your bottom lip then slipped his tongue into the soft cavern of your mouth, his chest falling in a long exhale.

suddenly, your bottom half was lifted by a pair of strong hands, and you were sat right on his dick. the length of him was nestled between your folds, and if you paid close enough attention, you could feel the veins that wrapped around him thrum against your slicked center.

“good pussy . .” he mumbled against your lips, fingers dancing down the length of your spine until they settled on your behind, squeezing the petal soft skin hungrily. “missed me too much, didn’t she?”

his only answer to that teasing question was a hard bite in his bottom lip making him hiss.

“you’re so annoying,” you breathed out, breaking the heated kiss. both of eren’s hands came down on your ass for a second time, hard, the smacking noise echoing throughout the quiet suite.

“then do somethin’ about it . . . unless you’re too sore,” he snickered, trailing his fingers over your jaw and to your lips, tracing the cupids bow with pure adoration mixed with lust.

your nose and eyebrows scrunched like a disturbed kitten, and then you were softly biting at his fingers, keeping them in place as you ran your tongue over them. erens dick twitched at the action.

he let out a small grunt when you wrapped your hands around his wrists, pinning them next to his head. “never too sore to get what i want. you should know that by now, ren.” your tone was soft as you spoke, the grip you had on eren’s wrists loosening.

you were sore, but this level of pain was nothing compared to the endless hours you would spend practicing choreography for your performances. this shit was light work.

“gosh, i mean it’s been so long, baby,” he sighed, emerald eyes twinkling in the sunlight. “guess you’re just gonna have to remind me.”

you couldn’t help but giggle, balancing on the balls of your feet as you gripped his heavy length. your teeth clamped onto your bottom lip, brows scrunching together when you swiped the shiny tip between your folds.

and there went eren making that fucking face.

that stupidly attractive face where he nibbled on his lip, and his eyes were hooded. the green orbs were fixated on the area between your bodies, watching in awe as you circled his tip over your clit.

“hah—cmon. sit on it.”

you didn’t need to be told twice, dumbly sheathing the entirety of his cock inside you in one go. it didn’t hurt as much as the night before, but that inevitable burn from the stretch of him had you wincing.

erens eyes had fluttered shut by now, a blissed out furrow nestling between his thick brows. he was still tired, and your warmth was making him overly sleepy, yet turned on. one part of him wanted to just keep you you there, and hold you against his chest while he lulled you back to sleep.

but the other part of him, the part that usually always won, wanted you to ride him until he passed out.

“why are your eyes closed? open them.” you poked at his cheek gently with a manicured nail.

when eren finally opened his eyes and looked up at you, your head was cocked to the side with a puzzled look on your face. “are you, like . . trying not to cum too quick or somethin’? your face has been twisted up like that way too long for my liking.”

“honestly? m’trying to figure out if i wanna have you keep my dick warm or ride it. either way i’m a happy, blessed man.”

“ohhh blessed, huh?”

“yes, very much so.” his strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you down until your chest was snug against his own. the angle brought you much closer to his handsome face, decorated in beauty marks and still slightly puffy from sleep. his hand squeezed at your hip before making its way down to your ass. “start moving.”

you made a small noise in agreement, lifting your hips until he remained about halfway in before lowering them once again. eren let out a low hum, “mhm. jus’ like that, baby.”

he pressed a kiss of encouragement to your cheek, his own hips gently matching your pace. while one of his hands remained glued to your ass, the other gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at nothing else but him.

you were never good at eye contact growing up. of course it eventually got better as your fame grew, but eren’s eye contact was a bit different. of all the haters and critics that stared you down, nothing made you feel smaller and more vulnerable than the intense, longing stare from those green eyes of his.

and he knew this.

“you’re really pretty, you know that?” he breathed out, squishing your cheeks together. he was setting the pace now, his hips moving at a quicker speed that increased the noises that came from your greedy pussy. you were so wet already that it was almost puzzling to him how you were already dripping down his balls after only a few minutes of this.

but he had to remember, and remind himself daily; that he wasn’t the only one who was missing his other half terribly. although you didn’t show it publicly or privately to anyone in your inner circle, you had missed eren way more than you should’ve after the breakup. certain smells, sceneries, music . . . it all reminded you of him whether you liked it or not.

and you were only human—just a simple girl with needs, so yes, whenever you found the time to masturbate, it was more than likely to the thought of eren, his voice, his physique. the intimate times you shared together under silk sheets.

you were honestly shocked, and very proud, that you were able to resist him and that stupidly good dick of his for almost a year.

but you didn’t have to resist anymore thankfully. your mind and pride finally took a load off your shoulders, and gave you the peace of mind to finally indulge him with a soaked cunt and embarrassingly quick orgasms to go with it.

suddenly, he felt a swell of something warm n’ fuzzy in his heart, his mouth opening and spewing out ‘i missed you’ before he could even process it. he wanted retract the statement and even apologize for being so sappy. but then he thought . . . why?

why apologize for missing you? his woman.

rennie abruptly tucked your head in his neck, his nose nuzzling against the soft skin of your shoulder. he didn’t mean to fuck into you so fast, but that lovey feeling he had inside always brought it out of him.

“missed you . . missed you so much, ( ❤︎⁠ ). missed this pussy. a-all of it. don’t ever leave me again,” he growled out, possessiveness clawing at his chest almost painfully.

your face scrunched up, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes much to your dismay. this wasn’t apart of the plan. why were you crying?

you let out a shaky breath, burrowing your face further into the warmth of his neck. “i missed you too, eren,” you spoke, soft and sweet.

i love you sat heavy on your tongue like a spoonful of honey, itching to make it way past your kiss swollen lips and into his ear. those three words have yet to be uttered by you since getting back together. why? you weren’t even sure yourself. eren found himself having the same dilemma as well.

“h-hey, come back to me. i want a kiss,” he moaned into your shoulder, his canines trailing over the sweaty skin. when you didn’t move or respond, hit bit down. it wasn’t hard, but it was enough to grab your attention.

no words were exchanged—only a bruising kiss that soon turned into eren sucking your tongue into his mouth.

it was becoming a little much for you.

his hands wandering all across your body, squeezing n’ smacking any inch of skin he could grasp. the sinful moans he let out as he suckled on your bottom lip. his cock ramming into that same spot that had your vision going blurry.

“you’re gonna cum aren’t you? mmcht—bet you can’t even hold it in for a few more minutes, right?” your jaw was in his grasp again, a teasing smirk spreading across his lips.

“mm-mm.”

with the amount of brain power you were using to scold your body into holding off a little longer, it was extremely hard to come up with a coherent sentence.

“hah, you’re lying.”

“am not.”

and then you were abruptly flipped onto your back, eren’s dick slipping out of you with a wet popping sound. he gave you no time to process the change in positions, or even give you a heads up that he was gonna ram inside with a mean ‘are to’ hissed into your ear.

it felt like all the air had been punched from your lungs, a loud cry ripping past your lips. eren hummed in content, slinging your thighs over his own along with a quick kiss to your jaw. his thumb rubbed semi-fast circles into your clit, and when he looked down something mesmerizing caught his attention.

it was you, well, your pussy, struggling to take his dick and gracing it with a pearl colored sheen of cream. his cock fit almost perfectly, and it made him excited to think about the countless night he would soon spend molding your gooey walls to take him with ease again.

“ah, ah—ren, i can’tttt,” you sobbed out, pushing a hand against his abdomen. your nails dragged down the tan skin, making him hiss.

your hand was yanked away, now pinned by your head along with the other. eren slowed his thrusts, settling for deep grinds and delicious circles that had tears pooling at your lash line. your man was inches from your face, his hair forming a brunette curtain that shielded you from the rising sun.

the action felt so intimate, like you and him were the only two people in existence.

“i thought you were tired, h-hm?”

it was nice to hear your voice. don’t get him wrong, eren loved the noises you made, but hearing you hoarsely get your words out while he made love to you was even better.

love.

he loved you. he’s always loved you, and forever will. even if the universe decided to selfishly drag you away from his desperate clutches, he’d still carry a torch for you in heart until his last breath.

he started to say something then stopped. but once he saw the look on your face the words came spilling out, choked and more meaningful than ever.

“i love you.”

and then he said it again. and again. and again—

“iloveyou. iloveyou. iloveyou.” his voice cracked, the grip he had on your wrist tightening. he closed the gap of space between you, his forehead pressing snugly against yours. “always been you. always gonna be you. i-i’m gonna be better now, yeah? never gonna leave me again because i’ll be good for you. i promise, ( ❤︎ ). i-i promise.”

three salty droplets hit the apples your cheeks, but you paid them no mind. they didn’t matter. especially when this is the second time since knowing him that eren’s cried in front of you—the breakup being the first unfortunately.

neither of you knew why this second go around was so much more emotional. maybe it was from drowsiness, or the beautiful scenery. maybe it was because it was finally settling in that this the real, and there were no more doubts from your end.

you weren’t sure, and neither was eren. all rennie knew was that if you didn’t say it back, he was bound to combust into pieces. that tough face that he sported almost twenty four hours a day was replaced with something you’ve never seen before.

“you love me right? right?” the last part of his sentence was punctuated by a thrust, rewarding him with a loud moan that he greedily swallowed up in the form of a kiss.

your head bobbed eagerly, lips parting in a sob. “i do, ren! i do love you, i-i promise.”

his thumb pushed up your wrist and trailed over your pinky, pushing down lightly. it wasn’t exactly a proper pinky promise, but it’d have to do. he brushed his nose over your cheek, “say it again. just one more time for me, and i’ll let you cum.”

the skin of his pelvis was rubbing against your clit sloppily, bringing you closer and closer to the release you prided yourself for holding back. you needed it desperately now.

“i love you eren. t-this feels safe. you feel safe. m’not gonna leave again i prom—”

your orgasm hit you like a semi, interrupting your oh so sweet words. but that was okay with eren. it was all worth seeing the look on your face as he brought you to climax. he could feel your thighs trembling against him, your wrists thrashing against his palms. he hadn’t realized how tight his grip was was until he actually loosened up.

he laced your fingers with his, shallowly drawing his hips back before slamming forward again to ride out your orgasm. his own was quickly approaching, and with a choked moan, he was finishing inside you in long, hot spurts.

“love you . . love you . .” he whispered into your cheek, drowsiness suddenly overtaking him.

he rolled over with quickness, knowing that if he stayed in that position any longer, he surely would’ve collapsed and gotten an earful about how he ‘crushed’ you.

you moved right along with him thanks to his death grip, his cock still nestled in the confines of your warmth. he was exhausted, you could tell by the glazed over look and slow blinks.

“h-here, lemme up. i’ll be the big spoon and hold you this time.” your voice was quiet, strained. a hot cup of tea was definitely needed later for the both of you.

eren made no protests as you slowly lifted your lower half, a dribble of cum leaking from your stretched entrance and down the inside of your thigh. a shower was also needed without a doubt, but you knew it would be hopeless to get eren out of bed for at least a good half hour.

once you were settled on your back, eren was latching onto your side like an oversized koala. his head was resting in the crook of your neck, and one of his long legs was draped over both of yours. you almost wanted to laugh when he blindly searched for your breast, tatted hand squeezing it gently three times before going limp.

“i’ll get up soon, i swear. ‘know you gotta get up and pee.”

“i also need to get in touch with mika. she wants me to do this interview—”

eren made a grunting noise in annoyance, plus lips pushing into a sleepy pout. “babyyy, i thought we’d get the day to relaxxxx.”

“we are, silly. if you would’ve let me finish, i was gonna say she wants me to do some interview in the next couple days.” your fingers ran through his soft locs, scratching lightly at his scalp to ease him. “don’t worry, i’m still all yours today you big baby.”

suddenly, eren was lifting his head, that needy expression he had only minutes ago now replaced with his signature glare. he didn’t say anything at first, emerald eyes looking you up and down until they eventually softened.

his head was back in its rightful place, his hand squeezing at your breasts once more for comfort. “not a baby,” he muttered into your skin, the vibrations tickling you.

“maybe not a baby . . but you’re definitely mine.” the line was cheesy as hell, and you knew it. but eren definitely seemed to enjoy it given the gruff laugh he let out.

[dilfstarr]

give me that morning dew, erennnn

[otakufilms]

Donate to Help Me Keep My Apartment, organized by Aliyah Kemp

Hey, guys. I’m so sorry to come on here and ask for this kind of help—but things are really gett… Aliyah Kemp needs your support for Help Me

hey, babies. i’m so sorry to come on here and ask for this kind of help—but things are really getting serious for me, and i’m scared what’s going to happen in the next couple of weeks. as y’all know i was recently fired from my job about two weeks ago due to discrimination, and have been scrambling to find another job with no luck. i still have to pay my other half of rent before the end of this month, my light bill, + there’s still upcoming rent for August. i just moved into my apartment in April and never expected this to happen, and i’m so scared to already lose a place i fought tooth and nail to get in the first place. i just need a little extra help until i find another job (which i’m working my ass off to get as soon as possible.) anything is appreciated. PLEASE REPOST ! BOOST !

[otakufilms]

‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀𝓸𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓶𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰…‧₊˚﹒♡﹗₊˚⊹❀

rugged. toji.

𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count—5.0K, ORIGINAL!BLACK!FEM!READER! southern domestic vibes!, husband!toji, shyblack!femreader, blackwife!reader, ranchmen!toji, gritty!toji, southerncoded!femreader, southerncoded!toji, aggressive!toji, dominant!toji, gruff!toji, sweet!toji, size kink!, pet names!baby!love!, pussy eating!, face slapping!, 69!, riding!, sex after work!toji, aggressive sex!, dick sucking!, squirting!, creaming, condomless sex, minors aren’t welcome! 𓊇ྀི

メモ。— been in a deep depression + ‘was missin’ my number one, my man, my lover, my only in another lifetime. this was inspired by a lil’ tik tok made by @scrumptious_chowder—i can’t seem to find the specific link for the video i saw, i think she might’ve deleted it? but if you see this, babe. this one’s for you. love your content + all the nasty thoughts in your head. @chrollohearttags ? love you baby. teehee. enjoy.

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE DAYS.

One where talking your husband off the verge of a crash out wasn’t enough—but fucking it out of him made it all complete. Sweeter, somehow.

The evening sun spills honey gold through lace trimmed windows, casting delicate shadows across the yellow bricked backsplash of your kitchen—your sanctuary.

The air smells like yeast and the faint citrus of lemons piled in your farmhouse sink—natural light streaming in soft, golden pools across the Tuscany checkered floors. Your fingers, dusted with flour, press into the supple dough, kneading with practiced rhythm, the marquise cut pale gold band on your left hand catching the warmth with every movement. French tips glint against the raw, pillowy mass, your wedding ring a quiet testament to the life you’ve built here—far from the noise of New Orleans, in a house he built for you with his own calloused hands.  

The vintage radio hums low, crackling with updates between New Orleans and Mississippi, the announcer’s voice a distant murmur beneath the rustle of your Persian kitten—Yumi’s—fur as she nudges the radio with her tiny, impatient head. You glance up, dark lashes fluttering, and reach over to twist the volume knob down. 

“Too loud, baby?”

Yumi answers by leaping gracefully onto the vintage dining table behind you, stretching her fluffy body into a perfect arch before collapsing into a loaf, her purrs filling the quiet kitchen like a melody.  

“…I guess so,” you hum softly.

Your kitchen was made with more love than his proposal, more intention than the ring itself. The single bowl sink overflows with lemons, limes, and a single stray peach, their vibrant colors bleeding into the muted tones of your oasis.  

The curtains flutter, carrying the scent of distant rain and turning earth—his scent, soon. The house breathes around you, every nail driven by his hands, every brick laid with the weight of his promise. 

“Ain’t gonna let nothin’ touch you ‘cept me.” 

You and Yumi share the same untamed spirit—both of you all flickering tails and sharp, watchful eyes.  

Your face, sultry as a fox, intense as a panther mid hunt, holds the kind of beauty that makes men pray before they dare to speak to you. Slender eyes, naturally dark waterline like you were born with kohl rimming them, framed by full, wispy lashes that give you an air of mischief—almost wicked, even when your soul is nothing but sugar. Deep pink lips, their edges kissed by a natural brown halo, part just slightly as you exhale, your large, arched brows lifting in amusement at your feline counterpart.  

That wild mane of yours—deep copper melting into cinnamon, black balayage curling like tendrils of smoke—is tossed messily over your head, a single stubborn curl swaying against your forehead. A constellation of dark freckles dusts the bridge of your wide nose, the warmth of your ochre complexion glowing beneath the golden kitchen light. 

“You’ll look no different in pregnancy," his voice rumbles in your mind, "Glowin’. Red. Fuckin’ perfect.”

You narrow those eyes at Yumi, who chirps at you like she’s got a whole argument prepared.  

“Daddy’ll be home soon," you murmur, thumb stroking the edge of your sourdough loaf before setting it aside to rise—“…You think he’ll like dinner?" 

The scent of New Orleans hangs heavy in the air—shrimp and andouille sizzling in a spiced roux, red beans simmering with a bay leaf tucked between them, and buttery cornbread waiting to be pulled from the oven. His favorites. The kind of meal that’ll soothe every ache in his body, warm. 

Yumi answers by rolling dramatically onto her back, paws curled, tail flicking.  

“Yeah—you’re no help."

The soft hum of the radio wraps around you as you lose yourself in the rhythm of cooking again, fingers dancing over ingredients with practiced ease. The music plays just a hair louder now—enough for Yumi to shoot you a withering glare from her perch, her tail flicking in disapproval. You ignore her with a little smile, your voice a gentle murmur as you hum along to the tune, the melody curling around the warm, spice laced air.  

Then—the growl. 

The deep, guttural rumble of his pickup truck tearing through the gravel drive is a warning, a proclamation—he’s home. Your spine straightens before you even realize it, ears attuned to the familiar sequence of his arrival—the creak of the screen door, the slam, the heavy thud of boots being kicked off near the welcome mat.  

Except today—silence. 

No boots. No pause. Just the hurried, uneven thud of his footsteps, heavier than usual, more urgent. A shiver races down your spine, instinct flaring before you can even turn—  

And then him.

Big. Encompassing. Swallowing you whole.  

His heat presses into your back, rough hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You don’t need to look up to know his expression—you feel it. The tension coiled in his muscles, impatient huffs against the curve of your throat.  

“You scared me,” you whisper, voice trembling just slightly as your fingers lift, clawing back into the wild strands of his hair—midnight black, nearly blue in the dim light. It’s longer now, unruly, a messy tangle between a wolf cut and a short mullet, the front nearly falling into his eyes. Your nails scratch lightly at his scalp, and he exhales sharply through his nose, his apology a low, graveled grunt against your skin.  

“‘Couldn’t get to you fast enough." 

You know him.  

His anger, his irritation, the frustration clings to him like a second skin. It seeps into you like ink in water, dark and suffocating, a storm barely contained beneath the surface. Your body responds before your mind can catch up—arching back into him, your pulse fluttering beneath his touch. 

That’s when your hands shift, turning you just enough in his grasp to catch his gaze—and the moment you do, the world narrows.  

Those eyes. 

Deep gray, like storm clouds rolling in over the pasture, narrowed and restless beneath the weight of his scowl. His brows—thick, dark, almost severe—are knit together, tension carved into the space between them. At thirty two years old to your twenty nine? The years have only sharpened him, etching his features with an intensity that makes your breath catch. A full blooded Japanese man raised in the heart of the South, he’s a walking contradiction—heritage and home clashing in the best ways.  

And today, every inch of him shows it.  

Dust clings to him like a second skin, ground into the fabric of his filthy wifebeater, streaked across the navy and black flannel rolled up to his forearms. His tattoos—a sprawling canvas of ink swallowing his egregiously broad frame—peek out from beneath the dirt, the edges of them smudged with the day’s labor.  

Head ranchmen. Raising livestock. Wrestling miles of fencing. Hauling hay, operating machinery, fighting with the land and the heat and the men under him who can’t keep up—it’s all written across the stars. His muscles are still coiled tight, his jaw working as if the frustration hasn’t fully left his bones.  

And yet, god, he’s yours.  

The scent of him—sweat, leather, and something wild washes over you, a pheromone laden reminder of exactly who you belong to.  

You reach up, thumb smoothing gently between his furrowed brows.  

“You okay?”

He exhales sharply, "M’alright. Always doin’ this, woman. Thinkin’ I’m about to cry."

A laugh bubbles in your chest, but you press closer instead, fingers trailing down to cup his jaw.  

“My soul’s with yours," you remind him, tilting your chin up despite the height difference—“I know when you’re sick before you do—" 

He grunts at that, but there’s no real irritation behind it. Instead, he ducks his head, nudging his nose against yours in a rare moment of tenderness, the gesture contradicting every rough edge he wears so well.  

Toji’s head dips low, those storm gray eyes scanning you with the kind of focus that makes your pulse flutter.  

You stand there in white fuzzy socks, swallowed whole by the oversized replica of his flannel—the deep blue of it sharp against your caramel skin, sleeves slipping past your wrists, the hem hanging dangerously high on your thighs.  

And as your husband, he knows what’s beneath. 

The way your waist cinches in like a damn hourglass, unnaturally narrow compared to the flare of your hips—so wide, so heavy it looks like you’ve carried a child before. The ass that fills his palms perfectly, fat, jiggling with every step. And those tits—full, heavy, sitting high like they belong on a sultry pin up poster. His name—Fushiguro—in tiny cursive beneath the curve of your left breast, a claim he never gets tired of seeing.  

Your fingers drag gently through the hair at his nape, nails scratching lightly as you murmur, “Yumi missed you.” 

His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, calloused and rough—“‘Momma missed me too?”

You nod, just slightly, tilting your head with those fox eyes of yours—narrowed, knowing, stripping him bare of any lie he could try to spin.  

“Tell me what happened at work.”

His brow twitches, “You tellin’ me?”

You don’t argue. Just raise your brows, waiting.  

A beat. Then, with a sharp exhale, it spills—

“Men actin’ like goddamn children. Argued with me ‘bout the fence line—then one of ‘em nearly flipped the ATV ‘cause he wasn’t payin’ attention. ‘Whole damn day wasted fixin’ other people’s—” His voice deepens, slipping into sharp edged Japanese, “…Nande kon'na baka-domo to issho ni hatarakanakya naranē nda? Mattaku, kuso jikan'nomudada.” 

Why the hell do these idiots work for me? Total waste of fuckin’ time.

You stand on your tiptoes, pressing your thumb between his brows again, smoothing the crease there as you answer him—fluent, just like he taught you. 

“Son'nani ikatteiru to, fukeru no ga hayamarimasu yo.” 

You’ll age faster being so angry.

He pauses, nostrils flaring—before he lets out a sharp exhale, forehead dropping against yours.  

"...Goddamn, woman. ‘Always knowin’ how to shut me up.” 

You hum, pressing closer.  

“So that’s why you keep me around?” 

“Nah. Keep you ‘cause you’re mine.” 

You hum, fingertips tracing the corded muscle below his neck, your touch featherlight. 

“Did talking about it help?" 

His jaw flexes, “You want me to lie?" 

“I’d rather you be honest, Fushiguro.” 

A rough exhale escapes him, “I’m on the news tomorrow? ‘Know I killed one of those bastards." 

You know he doesn’t mean it—but the frustration is real, simmering beneath his skin like an untamed storm. So you tease just a little, trying to loosen the tension coiling in his shoulders—“Fussier than a baby, ‘swear." 

That gets you a glare—"Nowhere near a damn child."  

You react before he can pull away, fingers tangling in the dark strands of his hair, holding him just firm enough to ground him.

“Hey," you murmur, voice softening, “I was just pokin’, love. Yeah?" 

He stares down at you, that perpetual scrawl of his features more habit than anger now. After a beat, he nods.  

You press on, voice a gentle lull. 

“Rough days are inevitable…but there’s your favorite meal to look forward to. And cuddles from me an’ Yumi." 

His expression doesn’t change.  

"Or," you offer, tilting your head, “I could rub your ear  ‘like you like?” 

Something shifts in his gaze then—dark, heavy. He looks at you—really looks. That sweet, sultry face he’s seen crumble beneath him, twist in pleasure, pout in frustration. It all hits him at once, a wave of something possessive and hungry that makes his fingers flex against your waist.  

And in response?  

“Yeah." 

A single word. Deceptively simple.  

Because you did rub his ear, sure—but what you didn’t expect?  

Was ending up bouncing stupidly on his cock in the process.  

Now, here you are—hair a mess of copper, cinnamon, and black curls, wild like a halo around your flushed face, the flannel hanging open, barely clinging to your shoulders. The fabric dips, revealing the sinful swell of your tits, the heavy weight of them barely contained by the parted material. Your fuzzy socks—adorable, ridiculous in contrast to the filth of this moment—curl helplessly into the bedsheets as you struggle to steady yourself.  

Your thighs ache, burning from the relentless pace he’s set, but you barely feel it. Not when he’s got his hands wrapped around your waist, his fingers so big they nearly touch when he grips you—effortlessly hauling you up, then slamming you back down, forcing you to take every inch of him.  

“F—Fushiguro—!" 

You choke on his name as he pulls you all the way up, the slick length of him just about to slip free before he yanks you back down, letting his dick carve straight into your g-spot with every punishing thrust.  

And the worst part?  

He hasn’t even undressed.

Leaned back against the vintage headboard, still in his dirt-streaked wifebeater—tugged halfway up to reveal the hard planes of his abs, ink-dark tattoos trailing down the cut of his V-line. The roughness of his pubic hair grinds against your clit with every brutal snap of your hips, the friction almost too much, threatening to push you over the edge before he even lets you.  

And his face— 

Dark brows pulled low, storm gray eyes locked on you with an intensity that borders on cruel. He watches you with that same scowl, like you mean nothing to him in this moment—just a warm, trembling hole for him to use, fucking you with ruthless precision.  

He leans back, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you again, dragging you down onto his cock with a sharp snap of his hips.  

“C’mon," he growls, voice rough with restraint—“Keep fuckin’ feelin’ me.”

You’re silent—trying to be—but your pussy isn’t.  

Loud. Obscene. Creaming around him in thick, slippery pulses, gushing with every brutal snap of his hips. The sound of it—wet, filthy, shameful—fills the space between your ragged breaths. Your lips stay pressed together, but your expression betrays you—eyebrows pinched, a cute little frown twisting your face as pleasure burns through you, sharp and unforgiving.  

Discomfort. Overstimulation. The kind of pleasure that hurts, that makes your toes curl and your stomach clench. Because god, the way he stretches you—thick, unrelenting, carving into you like he was made to ruin you.  

The worst part? He knows.  

Knows that in places where you’re soft, silent, observant—here, like this? You’re a mouthy little thing when he gets you there. Which is exactly why he cocks his hand back, fingers tangling in the back of your flannel, yanking you down harder on his cock before—  

SMACK. 

The sharp, stinging crack of his palm against your ass echoes through the room, your flesh jiggling from the impact, the heat of it blooming fast.  

“Ain't hearin’ shit from you," he growls. 

“C’mon. Gimme’ somethin’.”  

The rough clap of your thighs against his hips—hard, frantic, skin slapping skin—does something to you. Your eyes flutter shut, your fingers sinking into his forearms, claws digging in as a whiny little cry punches out of you.  

It’s a domino effect afterwards. A whimper slips free, trembling, desperate, and then another—another, slurring into heavier, broken whines, like you’re trying to swallow them back every time they threaten to escape. But you can’t. Not when he’s like this—when his thighs are so thick, his grip so bruising, when he makes you fuck him like he hates you.  

“There it is,” he grunts, fingers tightening around your waist, hauling you down harder, heavier. 

“‘Know my wife more than anyone in this fuckin’ world.”

You're an eye-rolling, pouting, mess. 

His mess. Your pussy keeps gushing, clenching forcefully around the thick swell of his cock, kicking off a series of unfinished, half-shattered orgasms that leave you spiraling—dizzy, overwhelmed, ruined.  

Tears brim your dark, pretty eyes, lashes sticking together as broken little whimpers spill from your lips.  

“I'm—‘M cumming.” 

But Toji? He doesn’t stop. 

His grip tightens, digging into the softness of your hips as he finds a devastating new rhythm. Slower now, but heavier. Louder. Each deep, punishing thrust drags a wet, filthy sound from where you’re stretched around him, the slap of skin echoing through the room.  

And the scent of him—god. 

Woodsmoke, leather, the erotic musk of a hard day’s work still clinging to his clothes, swallowing you whole even as he lounges beneath you, lazily using your body to chase his own pleasure.  

“Wanted me to feel better, ‘ain’t you?" 

His palm lands against your ass again—hard—the sharp crack reverberating through your bones before he spreads you open with that same rough hand, exposing your flushed, dripping cunt as he starts fucking up into you with renewed force.  

“Gonna fuck you ‘til every nut makes me less angry," he grunts, fingers biting into your flesh—“Had a hard fuckin’ day, remember?" 

You lean forward, sniffling pathetically, nodding in meek submission—like you’ve lost a game you never even meant to play.  

“Okay," you squeak, voice surrendering, small.  

His teeth flash in a wicked grin.  

“Atta fuckin’ girl." 

And then he takes—pounding up into you with a brutal pace that has you muffling trembling little moans into the crook of your arm, body jolting with every deep, claiming thrust. 

Toji slides his broad palm against the top of your head, fingers threading through your curls as he tilts your face up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. 

“You here with me?" 

You nod, and that's all he needs before he tugs you forward by your hair, sealing your mouth with his in a deep, tongue-filled kiss. It's filthy, possessive, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he pulls back just as swiftly.  

And then—SMACK. 

His palm meets your cheek with enough force to make your breath hitch, just sharp enough to snap you back into focus. 

“Fill your fuckin' mouth up.”

You sink down instantly, taking him between your lips with breathless little whimpers, your lashes fluttering as you suck him in deep. You pull back just enough to kitten lick along his length, teasing the flushed tip before swirling your tongue around it. Then lower—sucking his heavy balls into your mouth, your fingers lightly jerking the base of him.  

It's adorable in the most pathetic way—how easily you obey when you're usually all quiet fire and defiance. But like this? You're truly his.

Toji watches as you work him over—his cock glistening with your spit, your lips stretched around him. Then he takes himself in hand, slapping his length against your flushed cheek, dragging it over your lips with a filthy, wet sound.  

“Look at you," he grunts, voice rough with satisfaction.  

And he does look—drinking in the sight of your dark, caramel skin flushed raw, your pretty eyes swollen with tears, your lips parted and trembling. It makes him crave more.  

“C'mere," he growls suddenly, gripping your waist before flipping you both in one swift motion—your back now pressed to his chest, his thighs bracketing your head as he maneuvers you into a 69. 

The second you're settled, he buries his face between your thighs with a groan, his tongue devouring you. You gasp, trying to refocus, wrapping your lips around his cock again—but it's impossible to concentrate when he's sucking on your clit like he's starved, his tongue dragging hot and wet through your folds, slurping obscenely. Your hips jerk, back arching as pleasure zings through you, your forehead dropping against his hip as you whimper around him.  

“Focus, baby.”

He mutters this against your cunt—right before his hand comes down on your ass again, the sharp SMACK making you jolt.  A broken moan slips past your lips, and then you're bobbing your head faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him back into your mouth with desperate, sloppy devotion.  

And Toji?  

He just feasts—grunting, licking, taking—his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks his tongue inside you, making sure you feel every second of it.  

You don’t stand a chance.

The air is thick with the sound of skin on skin, your breath ragged and wet as you lose yourself in the rhythm of him. You move without thought, drunk on the taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue—both palms wrapped tight around the base of his cock, jerking him from root to tip in slow, filthy strokes. Your tits bounce with every movement, swaying heavy and lewd as you work him over in a way that’s downright pornographic, your body moving like it was made just for this.  

Toji’s hips twitch, his breath catching when you suddenly take just the head of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the swollen tip while your small hands take care of the rest. His head knocks back against the headboard with a low groan, his voice rough, strained, as he mutters something under his breath—half curse, half praise—before his hand comes down again, another sharp SMACK landing on your ass.  

“Edge of the bed. Now.”

You crawl there on shaky knees, face pressing into the blankets, ass up—presented, waiting—and before you can even brace yourself, he’s sinking into you, stretching you open in a way that punches a muffled whine from your throat. His fingers tangle in the nape of your hair, tugging just enough to make your back arch as he yanks you back onto him, filling you to the hilt with a single brutal thrust. Your face stays buried in the blankets, lips pouting, muffling little whimpers and breathless complaints—but they’re weak, half-hearted, lost in the haze of pleasure as he starts moving, fucking into you with rough, measured strokes.  

“Fussin’ just like Yumi," he growls, voice thick as you tuck your face deeper into the sheets, hiding the way your cheeks burn. 

“Tch—feet closer to your chest.”

He rasps this, voice gravel-scraped and impatient. You whimper but obey, knees pressing tight to your body, hips lifted higher—exposed, helpless. Then, in Japanese, sharp and commanding—

“Jibun no handan de ugoite kudasai.”

Move on your own. 

And you do.  

At first, it's slow—tentative—your hips rocking back and forth in small, uncertain motions, your body arching as you try to find the right angle. The sight of you like this—spread open, trembling, taking him—is obscene. Erotic in the rawest sense.  

His fingers snap once, sharply. Another order, another growled phrase—“Head up.” 

You just obey, lifting your face from the sheets, breath ragged as you look back over your shoulder at him.  

“If you don’t move, I’ll show you how I wanna’ be fucked.” 

You pout—lips trembling, eyes wet—but then you start moving again.  

Little bounces at first, your ass clapping lightly against his hips—gentle, testing. Then deeper. Faster. More. Until you’re fully fucking yourself on him, your body taking over, driven by instinct, by the need to please. His fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as you pant, as you whimper—  

“…M’sorry, baby." 

It slips out without thought, weak and breathless.  

Toji only grunts, “Yeah?” 

You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for. But you say it again, lips quivering. 

“M’sorry—"

You’re squirting. 

A hot, sudden gush, spilling around him without warning, your body convulsing as pleasure rips through you. The words turn into something else—deep, shuddering sobs, your voice breaking as you keep repeating it, "M’sorry, m’sorryyy...” 

Your husband? He could care less. 

Toji fucks you through it. His grip on your hair tightens, his hips snapping up to meet yours as you sob, as you tremble, as you fall apart. 

Because this? This is how he takes his anger out.

The world narrows to nothing but the brutal snap of his hips, the sound of skin meeting skin in sharp, wet slaps. Toji yanks your legs out from under you, planting your feet flat on the floor—forcing your spine into a deep arch, your ass tilted up just right for him to sink into you even deeper, each thrust punching the air from your lungs.  

You can’t help the noises that tear out of you—loud, broken, punched out moans that rise higher with every merciless drive of his cock. His fist tightens in your hair so everlasting, wrenching your head back as he growls above you, the sound rough and satisfied—because nothing pleases him more than hearing you unravel, your voice frayed beyond coherency.  

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, knuckles white—until he tsks, a single sharp sound of disapproval that has you scrambling to correct yourself before he can fuss. Arms straight back, wrists together, like you know what he wants without him even saying it.  His free hand wraps around both your wrists in one brutal grip, pinning them against the small of your back as he drives you into the mattress, fucking you so deep you squeal, high and desperate, your body jerking beneath him.  

“Fuckkkk…!” 

It’s a shriek, really—raw and guttural, your cunt gushing around him as he pistons in and out, his grunts syncing with your cries in a filthy, primal rhythm. He’s not gentle. Not close. Every snap of his hips is punishing, claiming, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside you until you’re keening, your thighs shaking, your mind gone beneath the sheer intensity of it.  

And then—  

His rhythm stutters.  

A deep, guttural growl rips from his throat, his fingers tightening hard in your hair as he buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in thick, pulsing ropes. Your sounds drown his—whimpers, choked cries, the way your body clenches around him as if trying to milk every last drop.  

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing—his, yours—both ragged and uneven.  

Then he slowly pulls out, leaving you limp beneath him, your lower body trembling, your nerves still alight with aftershocks.  Toji catches his breath for a beat—just one—before he leans down over you, his voice rough but soft now, murmured against your ear in Japanese.  

“Daijōbudesuka?”

You alright? 

His hand cups your throat from behind, tilting your face toward his. And then—kisses. Tiny, chaste pecks against your swollen lips, one after another, as if checking that you’re still with him.  

You let out a breathless little giggle, your lashes fluttering.  

“Mmm...legs feel numb." 

He hums. 

“They should.” 

The moment his hands twist you around, your breath catches—but it melts into another light giggle as he scoops you up effortlessly, depositing you onto the bed like something precious. The sheets are cool against your overheated skin, a stark contrast to the burning imprint of his body still lingering on yours.  

And then he looks at you. 

His fingers slide through your hair again, slower this time, almost reverent, before his mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s startlingly gentle. You nudge your nose against his, affectionate, lingering, before you pull back just enough to murmur—  

“…‘Gonna have a better day at work tomorrow?" 

Sweet. Hopeful.  

Toji rumbles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead—“Already havin’ a better day now." 

Your eyes dilate at that, lashes fluttering as you whisper—"Really?" 

“Murder’s still in question for ‘them employees, though.” 

Your face falls immediately, lips pressing into a pout as you sigh, long suffering. Before you can protest, his palm lands on your thigh—a light, teasing smack—and then he’s pushing off the bed, leaving you sprawled there. You scramble to grab his discarded flannel, draping it over yourself like a makeshift shield before flipping your hair back with an exaggerated huff.  

“You’re hardheaded!” 

“Got a hard head, baby.” 

You suck your teeth. 

But then? he reappears in the doorway, Yumi cradled in his big arms. 

The whiplash of it nearly gives you an actual headache. One second, he’s got you bent over the bed, fucking you like you owe him money, and the next? He’s holding that Persian kitten like it’s spun glass, cooing at her in a voice three octaves higher than you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.  

You roll your eyes so hard you swear you see your own brain.  

“You don’t talk to me like that.”  

Toji ignores you, of course. Because why would he ever acknowledge the way your metaphorical tail is swishing back and forth in irritation? He’s too busy booping Yumi’s tiny pink nose, murmuring, “Momma’s the fussy one, isn’t she? Yeah?" 

“Boy, please. I don’t win the hot head award. You’re an overachiever for that score." 

He just smirks—smirks!—as he sets Yumi down on the bed, watching with that stupid, smug expression as she prances toward the headboard like the little princess she is, tail held high as she lets out a dignified Mrrow. 

One second you’re lounging there, all sass and post coital glow—the next, he’s on you, knocking you flat onto your back in the sheets with a oomph that dissolves into breathless giggles as you shove at his chest.  

“Go away!"

He doesn’t.  

“You know how much I love you?"

You tilt your head, pretending to think. 

“Not sure."

The air between you shifts—just for a heartbeat—from playful to something deeper, something heavier. His rough fingers catch yours, and he brings your hand up, pressing a slow, almost reverent kiss to the gold band on your finger. Against the metal, he murmurs something low and raw—something that sounds suspiciously like—“Mines forever." 

You sigh, but it's a warm sound, your fingers curling around his, intertwining like they were made to fit there. Playfully, you squeeze.  

“Hungry?"

He exhales through his nose, “Been thinkin' about those red beans all day."

You bat your lashes, feigning innocence. 

“I wasn't part of the meal plan?" 

His thumb drags over your pulse point as he leans in, breath hot against your ear, “You were the meal plan."  

Then, just like that, he's hauling you up—one arm under your thighs, the other bracing your back as he tosses you halfway over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You yelp, but your legs lock around his waist instinctively, arms looping his neck as he starts moving.  

“C'mon. I'm starvin'."

You press your lips to his jaw, nipping just to feel him tense—“You're starvin’, and you love me?" 

He grunts—but for him? It’s not a denial. It’s yes, a thousand times over. 

And just like that, the scene fades—into the quiet hum of domesticity, into love and passion and marriage with all its rough edges and sweet, stolen moments.  

[dilfstarr]

my man!!! OH GOSH!!

[krys4h]

eren showing his gym progress......

[dilfstarr]

everyone LOOK AWAY!! let me handle this!!!!

[dilfstarr]

Connie Springer p!links

deeply missing my man right about now, so here are some more links!

໑ his favorite video of you in his hidden folder

໑ started off as a massage

໑ the moans, yum!

໑ ignore the caption…

໑ quickie quickie

໑ subtle way connie tells you that he’s in the mood

໑ the chain…delicious

໑ he’d send you something like this followed by ,“I miss you, princess.”

[dilfstarr]

Here you were, half moisturized—I’m talking lotion and oils still caked on your palms, just waiting to be evenly coated on your legs. Body wash is still fresh to your skin—clinging tightly, unknowingly inviting Eren to explore the unknown. Puffy, plump cheek smudged against the velvety surface of your patterned vanity, your teeth biting deliciously into your bottom lip to muffle escaped moans. Your robe was folded halfway up your back, almost in that space just above your hips while the tips of your manicured toes ached as you attempted to hold up your body weight.

“Oh g-gosh, Eren. You make me feel so good,” you whispered into a whine. You pushed back against his mouth unintentionally, earning a pinch to the inside of your thighs. A multitude of glass perfume bottles clinked while your earth toned bangles clacked, creating a rollercoaster of back and forth notes when you suddenly jumped from Eren’s quick and quiet punishment.

You couldn’t see Eren, but gosh could you hear him. He growled and groaned against your flesh, attempting to dig his face deeper inside of your tight embrace. Even though your cheeks were spread wider than a rumor, he still felt like he wasn’t close enough. His jaw flexed beneath you, slurping up and catching what he could before a puddle formed—to keep the floor as dry as possible of course.

Nevertheless, Eren was living happily in his own world. Even with the pattern carpet adding nothing to comfort his knees holding his weight, nothing could pull him out of the daze he was happily backstroking through.

Except you attempting to nudge you away. He never understood why you ran away when things felt good. Why you ran away from cumming instead of just letting it happen and not dragging it out. It didn’t bother him in the beginning, only when you started to reach behind yourself and got lotion in his hair from pushing him back is when his irritation bled through.

That’s when your wrist was bound together beneath you by one of his headbands. The cloth bit at your wrist, but only when you fight against it.

“Does it hurt at all?”

Eren looked down at his working fingers folding the fabric tighter around your wrist.

“Mmm, no. Feels alright, ‘Ren.“

Eren responded silently, lifting your hands in his to examine his work of art. “Good.”

As he lowered himself back to his knees, he took a glimpse at your face—eyes lined with pending tears while a deep pout kissed at your lips. Just how he likes it.

“Put your leg up and lay your body flat. ‘Not telling you again,” he’d grumble against your spit coated lips. If it was one thing Eren hated, it was you shying away from his touch. See, he hated physical contact to begin with, and that was with anyone. So to Eren holding hands, kissing, and in his case eating, was a privilege that he kept hidden and reserved for people he truly loved and trusted. You running away was like almost rejection. Disrespectful in his eyes to say the least.

You were now face to face with your knee, almost kissing it from how close it was. With this new angle, Eren had much more space. Much more control over you knowing that you couldn’t push him away. Even if you wanted to move, you couldn’t. The crown of your head pressed against the mirror while your leg kept you stable. And if you somehow became wobbly, Eren was giving you extra support to say up right. He had you just how he wanted.

Almost everything was laminated in Eren’s spit. He’d start at the top of your ass crack, taking his time before flattening his tongue and dragging it down lower and lower until he was met with your puffy clit, twitching in anticipation. He’d give a suck or two before his tongue flattened again to take the same route back the way he came. Each lap he took exploring your mound, you felt your lips separate from the width of your boyfriend’s thick tongue. He knew the right amount of pressure to get you to start leaking and squirming on his tongue.

You hissed softly, toes curling into themselves while half crescents formed on your palms.

“My God, Eren. Wa-wait!”

You palmed at what your fingers could reach from under you—which was the soaked strands of his goatee. Eren’s thumb placed the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, spiraling it slowly while his thick tongue teased your entrance.

“I got you, Pretty. Just let me have it. I’ll catch it.” Eren’s vibration in his words shook you to your core.

Your breathing picks up when the pace of his thumb does. What was sharp uncoordinated gasps, transitioned into deep trembling breaths that couldn’t quite fill up your lungs to full capacity. Your vision blurred as those hot tears that were teasing your lash line finally passed through.

“You’re gon—haah! Mmm! I’m goin’ to cum.

The static feeling creeped up from your ankles, rising with speed up your thighs like a fever. Despite your movements being limited, you found yourself circling your hips, grinding yourself into Eren’s face. Heavy eyelids fluttered while your eyesight disappeared into your skull. You were cumming and just as he promised, he was there to catch every drop.

[dilfstarr]

Happy Juneteenth my loves. How abt one our celebrations be with some plinks with BLACK PEOPLE. Gasp! Yes, black people have sex as well, and it’s okay not to use fair skinned people for every link! Anywayssss happy celebrating and be safe!

[dilfstarr]

DADDY LESSONS◞

T. Fushiguro & Onyankopon

જ pairing:Toji Fushiguro x Onyankopon x Black!reader

જwarningノtags:cowboy!Ony◞ cowboy!Toji◞ my boys are both country as hell!◞ brat!reader, grumpy!Ony◞ Megumi & Shiu mentioned◞ Megumi Thee Stallion [ literally ]◞ poly relationship [ m+f+m ]◞ reader has a pixie cut [ briefly mentioned ]◞ pet names [ SweetheartノDarlin’ノPeachノLove ]◞ fluff◞ suggestive in some parts but doesn’t cross the line.

જwc:4k

જan:just spending time with your rootin tootin cowboy lovers. No smut unfortunately, wanted to explore my fluffiness to the fullest. this is kinda a soft launch for my pending series, an intro post if you will…bye.

Sometimes the southern heat was just overbearing; if another layer of clothing wasn't peeled away quickly, you swore you could burst into flames like an unlucky vampire caught in the deadly webs of sunrise. Heatless copper dyed spirals laid obediently in gel—a white scarf tied around the surrounding area as a fashion statement while matching swirls curled at your temples. Cinnamon tinted moles sprinkled across your cheeks sparkled with sweat as you tried oh-so desperately to ignore the sun devilish presence. Dark washed and dirt stained overalls sat loosely on the crisp white tee that soaked in sorrow.

Another annoyed groan vibrated deep in your chest. Frustration wasn't even the word for what creeped deep beneath your bones.

You huffed in defeat, almond shaped manicure glistening under the sun's harsh rays once your bubble gum pink gardening gloves were flung from your palms. Your breathing starts to stutter as you try to keep your tears from bleeding through the concrete dam hidden behind your eyes.

You've been sweating buckets since you stepped foot from your wooden porch. Uprooting those invading, stubborn weeds from your stubborn Pentas has officially worn you out. Hours of hard labor for your garden to still look untouched—almost like you never stepped foot outside in the first place. Your beautiful star shaped flowers that attracted the most vibrant, joyful butterflies and hummingbirds weren't what they used to be; once full of life became an eyesore for anyone that analyzed your plants.

As much as the beautiful array of flowers shaped your garden, the pests and weeds that hounded were burdensome—damaging months of hard work in mere seconds. The forest green foliage might seem appealing to the naked eye, but spider mites lurked deeply in the cracks of the crops and damaged any and everything in sight.

Standing with a groan and an alarming sound of your joints popping, you watched your pedicured feet take turns on the freshly cut grass that led back to your porch. Defeat laid comfortably on your shoulders, tear ducts swollen from pending tears.

Stupid plants.

Distant clouds held the weight of a thunderstorm, the smell of the breeze carrying the scent of rain and sadness; the sun was oblivious to the storm brewing. The wind blew, but not the kind you wanted—it blew hot and sticky, like the first few seconds of an oven opening, making you feel more icky. Trees waved at you in the distance while the cries of your wind chimes touched gave subtle a warning.

"I know you're not sheddin' tears over those flowers, Sweets." Toji could read you like a book even if it was sealed shut and buried six feet under. He emerged from the darkness of the house like a DC villain, the screen door clapped loudly behind him; your furry pets tilted their heads in confusion when they weren't immediately let out.

Full lashes kissed at his cheeks—heavy eyelids making his appearance more intimidating. Even with half his eyesight, his shaded gaze weighed heavily on your figure. A half smoked cigarette slept lazily between his lips, glowing a deep crimson before grey smoke poured from his nose.

You jumped at the sudden noise; a sniffle and a quick wipe to your swollen eyes later and you almost looked normal. To whom? You don't know.

"M'not," You lie, avoiding his siren stare.

"Don't bullshit me, woman. Jus' watched it happen with my own two eyes." Toji wore the sweat on his temple proudly, the absence of his hat being the sole reason why he came back to the house and found you whimpering over plants. The metal porch railing held his tilted weight with ease.

A dark brown cowboy hat with his initials scorched deeply into the side casted a ominous shadow on his face, making his stare more menacing.

"If you knew then why'd you ask?" You followed his bulky shadow as it loomed over you like bad news. With the cigarette tucked between his pink lips he mumbled "watch that mouth," before blowing smoke in your direction.

"Asked to see if you would lie. And you did. 'Told you about that."

You rolled your eyes mumbling a quiet apology while your arms crossed over your chest. "Just upset right now, Toj’."

Silver poured like a fountain from his lips as he eyed you from afar. Clouded rings floated from his face as he squinted, his heavy head tilting to the left.

"Didn't we tell you to stop poutin' over those plants or am I goin’ crazy?” As he awaited your answer another wave of smoke surrounded you.

“You did.”

“We also told you we'd get someone out here to look at 'em because it somethin' out of your control. Did we not?”

He searched heavily for your downward gaze, that bitter, toxic stench of his cigarette curling into you like bumped ends. You sighed into a nod, slowly unbuttoning the jean deathtrap you wore to create some type of air circulation through your clothes. Still, your eyebrows touched and your lip poked out.

“Yes, Toji. I remember.”

"Clearly not if I just found you, not even two weeks later, doin' the same thing.” He inhales again, this time the smoke pouring from his nose like an angry bull.

"I knoww, m'sorry. It’s jus' that I watched another video and thought it looked easy enough to try. It sucks that my green thumb was lost in transit while I was bein' brought into this cruel, cruel world…”

He watched as you explained your reasoning with a grin clawing at his lips. He could never take you seriously when you're being this dramatic. The way you flung your arms in exaggeration and how your pout deepened as the urge to cry was a blink away—it was cute.

“'Nd now you're laughin' at me! This is why I only discuss my feelings with Ony!" You wiped at the heavy, hot tears that managed to escape down your cheeks.

Toji sucked the remaining cigarette dry and tossed it behind him, his frame becoming larger then shrinking—he was now crouching and eye to eye with his pouting woman.

"Look," he sighed, "I'm not laughin’ at you or tellin' you to stop gardening—l love seein' you in your own world, but you need guidance. Even if it wasn't something out of your control, you can't just start somethin' and expect to be a master at it in a few seconds. 'Shit takes time, Darlin’. Rome wasn’t built in a day."

Well…It's true.

With every new money sucking hobby you joined overnight, there were a good three seconds where you thought you knew exactly what you were doing from just watching a single video—that is before you're bulldozed with a reality check.

Baking? Served poison on porcelain with a toothy grin and it took Onyankopon one bite into your crack brownies before telling you the harsh truth about your skills, or lack of. Crocheting? Oh gosh. If Toji wasn't holding your tablet, the comically large aluminum crochet hook would've been lodged up his nose somewhere.

From accidentally downloading a virus onto your PC from downloading links you mistaken for Sim mods, to unknowingly buying knockoff anime figures from a sketchy website that really didn't seem that sketchy, but now that you looked back it definitely looked questionable. It was all trial and error.

You lived and learned.

“Understood?”

You nodded, untying the scarf from your scalp and throwing it to the swinging bench that sat adjacent. You sigh, "Sorry for my attitude, Toji. Still workin' on my snappiness."

He flashes a grin, rough palms rubbing tight circles on the soles of your feet,"I see that and 'm proud of you. "Lots of progress is happenin’. 'Bout three years ago we would've been barkin' back and forth like dogs."

"Yea," you both shared a chuckle, "Thanks, Toji-Bear. You're too sweet to me. Even when I'm cranky and bein’ a drama queen." Dark lashes that shaped your eyes something sinister fanned in his direction, blinking slowly like a cat admiring its owner.

He grinned at his nickname, sharp canines peeking through his pink scarred lips. A soft breeze teased at the spiral ends that peeked from his hat.

"S my pleasure, Love. You know that." Toji's voice matched yours: lust-heavy, his whispered words were deeper, more core stimulating. His finger lifted the tip of his hat, allowing his features to be visible and less insidious.

"Wipe your face 'nd give me a kiss?"

"Please?" You challenged, eyebrows arching to your forehead.

He eased his body slowly between your legs like a predator stalking its prey: too slow to notice until it was too late. The heat that radiated from his torso was almost torturous between your clothed thighs. Your breath hitched as you whispered, "Say please, Toji."

"Please, Darlin?"

Before he even finished begging, his tongue was already miles ahead, meeting you halfway. Kisses from Toji were always over the top—he couldn't keep his tongue hidden behind his teeth if he tried. His heavy head tilted, desperate to get closer—deeper between your plump lips. Your squeaks are muffled and immediately swallowed and before you know it, you’re unintentionally pulling back from him. Toji's weighted, calloused palm gripped at your throat, squeezing just enough to assert dominance and to keep you anchored.

"Toji," you warned behind whimpers, "We're outside."

"Mhm," He hummed, seemingly acknowledging your concerns. He tugged at your bottom lip asking, "Who's goin' to stop me from showin' love to my woman?" He cocked his thin eyebrow, waiting on an answer to his rhetorical question then continued his pleasurable assault between your lips, his thick tongue dancing around yours. You melted into his touch, muscles relaxed and meshed into him like soft wax. Finally, he pulled away for good—lips swollen and glossed from spit.

"So pretty. 'Taste sweet, Peach"

You fake gasped, your palms hiding your gaped mouth, “Don’t be stealin’ Ony’s pet names. You know how he gets!”

He chuckles, aged joints popping as he stands at full height. “You’ right about that. Speakin’ of—Ony had his panties in a bunch since we woke up. ‘Don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“Maybe he’s tired of dealin’ with you and Megumi and wants to see me.”

Onyankopon was definitely tired of dealing with Toji. Him and his nonstop jokes and childish antics under this type of heat? Nah. Nothing was funny in this bipolar weather.

His grin widened.

“‘S ironic that you brought him up, you know,” you quirked an eyebrow as Toji continued, “We’re about to bring Megumi out to the round pen before we’re done out here. Put some clothes on and meet us in the field.”

If your eyes got any wider, they would be rolling around on the porch. “Uh No, Toji. My time in the sun is over. I just want a bubble bath and to lay around inside with Salem and Boa. Maybe even pick back up crocheting. Plus the sky looks like it wants to open up and flood everything in sight!”

“Ten minutes,” He held his palm to you, his thick fingers urging you to stand. You didn’t want to, but the menacing look in his eyes showed that that there were no jokes behind his statements. “That’s the lowest I’m goin’ so you better get up before it jumps to twenty.”

“But I’ve been out here all day!” You whine, your hand falling on top of his. He tugged you up with ease and held you upright while you continued protested.

“You’ve been out here for not even five minutes, ⧼★⧽. Stop bein’ dramatic,” Toji deadpanned, officially leaving you by yourself on warm wood.

“Oh whatever—!” Before you could counter, he was already states away from you and towards the field. Even his jog was attractive—heavy muscles flexing under his shadow shaded clothes. He turned to find you still standing and chuckled. Cupping his hands around his lips he yelled, “Bring your ass before I get Onyankopon to sic you!”

You grinned, wiping the pending sweat puddling at your hairline. Ten more minutes.

It wasn’t ten minutes. Let’s try an hour and twenty minutes.

With the sun shining, still etching itself deep into your skin like a scar, the last thing you wanted to be doing was getting acquainted with a horse who couldn’t care less about your existence. Toji sits behind you, his weighted pelvis rocking against yours with the slow and steady stride of his horse—the metal plate of his sizzling belt buckle knocking against the top of your clothed ass crack. An earthly, tobacco scent mixed with a hint of sweetness from your vanilla perfume, that hadn’t melted off, trailing behind closely like a cape.

Wearing black in the sun’s presence was a disaster just itching to happen, so questioning Toji’s motives for wearing not only a long sleeved black tee, but jeans to match wasn’t frowned upon. His top hugged tightly against his sweat glazed tanned skin, threatening to rip with any sudden movement. Heavy strokes from his tattoos peeked just under the neckline of his shirt—almost giving the illusion that it was an extension of his top. If you were being honest, his poor choice of an outfit just brought extra heat, and it was being placed directly on your shoulders.

"Hol' on tight to the reins, Sweets. Take control. Meg’s not goin’ to take you seriously if ya’ scared of him.”

Barking orders around wasn’t anything new, these animals would walk all over him if authority wasn’t latched on to his voice—doing it for hours on end with cigarettes being chain-smoked in between is what’s fucking him up. Anytime he spoke, it felt like a microphone needed to be lodged down his throat to chase each whispered word. It’s only getting worse with each passing minute.

"There you go. Good joooob,” He praised, voice coming out winded, “You’re gettin' better at this, you ain't ridin’ while we sleepin'? Sure seems like it."

Rough hands were tight around your waist, giving you reassuring squeezes whenever you whimpered in doubt, which was every other second. Toji felt the fear latching onto your bones under your embrace—he could see the worry painted on your face from the moon, but the only thing to shake that said fear was to face it head on.

"M'sure..."

Stallions were naturally aggressive and not easy going with new people, especially Toji’s furry friend here. You’ve witnessed Megumi take that extra mile to be by himself—stationed in the corner glaring menacingly at the town below. And doing something he didn’t want to do sparked pure chaos.

You knew it was a pending problem with him when both Onyankopon and Toji had to stand close while Dr. Shiu performed his first of many monthly routine exams.

Megumi stomped his heavy hooves with anger at every gloved touch that graced his silky black fur, nipped at the doctor whenever he was in view, and whipped his tail when he was certain something was there to be strucked—almost like a child throwing a tantrum. You've seen plenty of horses come and go, all with different personalities that molded them differently from their counterparts—but none as special as Megumi.

With checkups becoming increasingly common, Megumi no longer acted an ass when it was time to be examined, but that day has been stamped into your brain like a tattoo. Being on the receiving end of his violence was not on your to-do list. Not not. Not ever.

"Toji-Bear?"

With your voice soft as a pillow, below a whisper and coiled tight in concern, you almost mirrored Toji’s hoarseness. He replied with a curious hum, pierced ear pressing against your warm cheek to better understand what you were saying. "He's not gonna hurt me, right?"

Toji confidently reassured you, replying in a hum, "He ain't gonna hurt you, Sweetheart. Pon and I trained him well since that day. Ain't that right?"

"Mhm," Onyankopon responded with a confident hum, "He's only aggressive with male horses and red balloons, Peach," A thin piece of hay dangled from his plump two toned lips. He stood leaning against the wooden fence— tone, tatted arms peaked from his white tea. His dark brown eyes stalked you like a hawk from afar. "If you’ ain’t either of those things then you'll be juuus' fine."

"’Kay... if you say so," Unsureness intertwined tightly around your words—in result, your grip on the reins were much tighter.

Riding around in circles with heavy supervision was a traditional practice that happened roughly twice a week. Sometimes it was your personal horses from the stable, others it was mounts who needed temporary assistance while they healed from minor surgeries. From what Onyokapon told you, doing this was beneficial and helped you get comfortable enough to ride on your own— climbing your way up to possibly helping out in the field if needed. You, on the other hand, hated it. Horses were their thing, not yours.

Whenever Toji received the horse as a gift, the handler informed him about his aggression towards all other animals and humans. Although he didn't specify on why, Toji assumed it had something to do with his previous owners mistreating him.

"Let's just say Megumi had a hard upbringing..." The handler expressed, eyebrows folded across his forehead. He was cautious with his brushing, afraid of any sudden movements from the horse.

Heavy hands weighed at Onyokopon's hips, chocolate dipped eyes squinting from the sun, "You don't say. ‘Boy can barely stop shakin’, Toj’,"

Toji gave a nod, eyeing the handler. “I see. Shakin’ like a rookie stripper.”

Toji hesitated touching Megumi, his covered fiery gaze turning Toji’s movements into stone. Scarred whip marks littered his backside and sides. The supposed silky black mane was a complete overgrown mess covering his curious eyes. Each sudden movement caused the colt to jerk in fear—sometimes going as far as lunging towards you as an act to protect himself. Megumi’s ribs were prominent from a skyscraper with mountains of flies dancing on his sunken stomach. He limped when he walked, overgrown hooves making it impossible for comfort.

“—Y’all don’t take care of him? Seems like y’all contributin’ to the rough upbringin’ if you ask me.” Onyankopon couldn’t help the anger in his voice. Still, he kept his voice level down to keep the horse at bay.

“Well, we have. He’s just… well— aggressive.” As if on que, the horse jumped forward causing the handler to quite literally jump into Onyakopon’s arms for protection.

For a good three years Onyankopon, Toji, and Dr. Shiu were the only people the horse became accustomed to. Building trust and loyalty took time and effort, but it was worth it in the long run. Your lovers took time to learn their pet, informing themselves about what Megumi adorned and highly disliked.

It came as little surprise that he disliked almost everything.

Except brushes.

Megumi became accustomed to his daily brushes—looked forward to them, actually. Onyankopon thinks it's a sensory thing, the bristles bringing a sense of peace to melt throughout his body.

"Give it 'bout three more months and Megumi will be out there with all the mares. Maybe get some kids out of ‘em. Hopefully make some profit."

"Yeah," Ony agreed, feeding a fistful of hay to Megumi, "Maybe even introduce him to Peach, see how he responds to her."

You rejected immediately, bringing up the situation with Shiu and how uncomfortable it made you feel. They understood, Onyokopon even considered postponing the meeting to a couple months later, but of course that didn’t happen. You were face to face with him ten minutes later. You could’ve sworn Megumi rolled his eyes when Toji was introducing him to you.

“He looks so angry, Ony-baby.” looking up through your lashes usually got you out of situations you didn’t want to be in. You swayed your hips more, even sticking your lip out a little far to catch his attention. He didn’t crack—not even a twitch in his tired eyes. His scold deepened as he rolled his eyes.

“Girl, please. ‘M not Toji. That shit didn’t work on me. Hop on.”You groaned dramatically as you were helped onto the animal.

All was well. The key word was. Not even two minutes and Megumi was already rising on his hind legs in an attempt to get you to unattached.

You thought it was your time, that he was going to somehow do a backflip and crush you to death under his weight. You yelped loudly, only adding fuel to the growing flames. Ony was quick on his feet, speaking slowly and softly to the horse as Toji pried you from his back.

The incident was brought up to Shiu and he said that you were still a stranger to him—He wasn’t familiar enough with you therefore he didn’t trust you. From that day forth, anytime Megumi was brought out, you were there.

His feedings? You were stuffing handfuls of hay in his puffy cheeks. You lead him with Toji but refuse to hold the reins and kept your distance.

What really got Megumi to gradually grow interested in you was your brushes. Really, it was your nails raking up and down his fur. You did it absentmindedly when feeding him—your finger tickled the spot just between his eyes. Up and down, up and down.

You didn’t notice that he was enjoying it until Toji pointed out that he leaned his head towards you.

“R-really? Thought he was jus’ rushing me.” You turned to the horse as he eyed the hay in your palm, “You like my nails, Megumi?” As if he could respond.

You shifted your body slightly, your legs becoming static from the extended horse ride. The clouds containing the storm were now minutes away, the smell of rain overpowering the scattered horse poop.

"I think she's 'bout ready to ride by herself, Toj’. Whatchu’ think?"

Toji hums, his fingers drumming at your hips, "You can think about it all you want, it's her that has the final say.”

"I can handle it," you answered, "I'm pretty confident... I think."

“You think?”

“Maybe a few more weeks, Peach.”

The wind picked up, the trees in the distance almost uprooting from the soil. Thunder cracked in the distance causing some of the horses to find shelter.

"Ooh, it’s startin' t'get dark Toj". Let's wrap this shit up. Fuckin’ mosquitoes 'bout to suck me dry!" Smacks to his dark skin followed after his complaints, his whacks echoing throughout the open field. Just as Toji was about to mumble something slick, a lightning bolt flickered through the clouded sky too close for comfort, followed by a thunderclap that made Megumi jump from beneath you. The nightmare of the last encounter with Megumi raising on his hind legs flashed through your mind like a premonition. This was going to take longer than expected.

[dilfstarr]

What was the color guard like? I wanted to join back in high school, but i changed my mind last minute.. It’d be nice to hear what I missed out on :3

from my experience, it was extremely fun!! i joined by accident and stayed after being convinced by one of the coaches, and it was the best decision ever. it’s the perfect place to make friends since you are surrounded by hundreds of people during competitions and everything in between. now learning how to properly twirl and toss the flags was a bit of a struggle for me, but once you got it, everything else follows easily. the only thing that i’ve heard people really complain about was band camp. it’s basically like a whole month of just learning choreography for the field shows, halftime shows, prep rally’s, etc. it’s a lot at one time especially if you’re completely new to it, plus you are outside in the heat for most of it. other than that, it was awesome.

[dilfstarr]

i just came to the realization that y'all barely know anything about me so here are five random fun facts about DILFSTARR!! YAY!! let's call this a celebration for the increase of followers. love yall dearly!!

✶ 1. i LOVE scary movies but i get paranoid extremely easily so i only watch them during the day. i enjoy anything paranormal and psychological—really anything except body horror. also, i’m DEADLY afraid of the Babadook and being broke. i literally have nightmares of going broke.

✶ 2. i've been living in Texas for seven—maybe eight years, give or take. moved here from Louisiana ( Lafayette ). i visit home occasionally but most of my family moved from there so i just go to relive childhood memories.

✶ 3. i am a manga funko pop collector. okay let me not lie, my man collects the books, i just like the funko pops, but i do buy manga occasionally!

✶ 4. kinda already known but i am Afro-indigenous. My mother is African American/ Creole with my father being African American/ Indigenous. sadly don't know anything about my Native side other than we are related to the Blackfoot tribe.

✶ 5. super random but i was in color guard AND on the dance team in high school. yes, i know how to spin flags, mock rifles, and sabers. yes, i was constantly bruised up. and yes, i was a band kid and proud. i marched in a few Mardi Gras parades before i moved as well!

[dilfstarr]

was going to post tonight but im being forced to bar hop by my frans….@afrodisiiac and @mossinae shame on u!!!

[dilfstarr]

hey girl, did u delete the fic where reader was riding eren in reverse cowgirl while he was talking to connie on the phone 🌚, that was like my fave! are u gonna bring it back?

if i ever find it, ill repost it. i kinda deleted everything without making a copy like a dumbass

[tamsywindsup]

From Kagurabachi anime teaser PV gifs

[dilfstarr]

hi, could you do a woo do hwan x black reader? I love your writing and I can’t seem to find any made by black creators 🙏🙏 💔💔🥲

maybe one of his characters. i don’t write rpf

[texasbama]

10 YEARS OF LEMONADE 🍋 | April 23, 2016 spotify template