#i practically killed myself working on my senior body of work for an exhibition for 2 years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chiwhorei · 4 years

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green scrunchies

pairing: dom!k. ukai x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, spanking, smoking, daddy kink, dom/ sub dynamics, brat taming, subspace, dirty talk, degradation, age gap(reader is 22ish and ukai is 26ish) spitting, fingering, oral (fem receiving), edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, a little dumification, public nudity (kinda), unprotected sex, tattoos (there’s a tattoo in a really unholy place), this is just filth okay

a/n: i have been sitting on the bulk of this piece for a fucking month and am honestly so surprised i finished it. this was inspired by a picture i saw of a really naughty tattoo and my mind want crazy and vomited on to a google doc.

hymn: nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex

“but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations.”

Ukai Keishin is a gentle man. The team of highschoolers he coaches, his friends, hell, even his mother would beg to differ. But they were not privy to the Keishin you know. The man that serenades you with Elvis Presley while cleaning up after closing the store, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a clumsy slow dance as his gravelly voice croons into your ear.

He’s entrancing. Hypnotizing you, almost two years ago now, in the most tender pursuit possible, so softly you were unaware of falling deeply in love with him until you had already tipped completely over. Turning to an ink pen and scraps of receipt paper to flesh out the feelings he worried would not sound perfect when they hit your ears. To this day, you’re not entirely sure if he meant to leave the pages to his extemporaneous romance novel for you to find on purpose, but you have your suspicions.

You were in your second year of college when you met Keishin, only 20 years old at the time and clueless to any world outside of studying frantically from one exam to the next. Chasing after a degree you could pursue your dreams with and getting tattoos that would piss your parents off, you crashed into him, literally.

While walking to class with practiced steps and flipping through a small stack of notecards, you frantically try to accomplish last minute cramming and making it to class promptly at the same time. With one final attempt to understand the scribbles in front of you, you take a sharp turn into a brick wall. A flurry of white papers thrown into the air and falling back down like snow.

It happened in a minute, a minute that held sixty of the longest seconds to ever pass; from the moment you smack your nose into his cemented chest to the moment he saves your head from kissing the ground below. “You need to watch where you’re going, kid.” He says with a cigarette pressed between his teeth. It all happened in that single minute, your soul escaping and crawling into his jacket pocket without even realizing. It’s been there ever since, for safekeeping, of course.

He’s perfect in every way. But just as he is soft and loving, Ukai is not one to take shit. Especially when his sweet, shy baby girl is being a raging brat. It’s like any normal fall afternoon, slightly chilly and crisp on your walk from class. The air is biting at your skin, but the temperature is not what sends a piercing shiver down your spine. You know that as soon as you get home, Ukai Keishin is going to ruin you.

“What are you doing here, princess?” Your presence is made known with a soft ding from the bell above the door, but Ukai doesn't look up from his magazine when acknowledging you.

“I live upstairs?” Your tone is light and playful. You decide to test the waters, wondering how much Keishin will let slide today.

“Don’t be dense, little one.” He graces you with his eye contact for the first time, “I know you have a Biology lecture on Friday afternoons. So, why is that cute little ass here instead of on campus?” His lips are pulled tightly in a thin line and he rakes his eyes down your body. You’re wearing a short pleated skirt and a baggie pull-over. Exactly what he picked out for you this morning. Well, almost exactly. He was already opening up the store by the time you woke up, so the clothes were placed neatly on his side of the bed. What he didn’t pick out though, were the stockings currently brandishing your mid thigh, cutting off the supple skin with the soft, black cotton.

“Oh! My professor cancelled lecture today so I came home early to have lunch with my loving boyfriend.” You smile sweetly, dropping your backpack and rounding the corner of the counter he is sat at. Ukai hums softly- dismissively- and lights a cigarette, his eyes don’t give away any emotion, so you are left hanging off the end of the burning cherry. Has he caught on yet? Maybe the thigh-highs would be enough to distract from your real surprise.

Before you can ruminate on the thought, a wide, kind smile spreads across his face. If you didn’t know any better, this smile would be comforting. Your boyfriend pats his lap, motioning for you to take a seat. You adjust yourself to fit snugly and lean into Keishin’s chest. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple and takes a drag from his cigarette. Customers trickle in slowly, and you stand a few times to ring up their purchases, always the dutiful girlfriend. Keishin watches you with adoration in between paging through a magazine, everything you did was so perfect, even if it’s just scanning a few groceries. Such a good girl you are.

It’s not until you sit back down, and he adjusts your hips to settle back into him that he is made aware of the game you’re trying to play. And he is pissed.

“Princess, did you not like the clothes I picked out for you this morning?” He has fully caught on to you at this point, and you both know it, but he isn’t going to show you his hand quite yet.

“Of course I did, Daddy.” You bury your burning cheek into his neck, letting the familiar smell of cologne and campfires calm your clambering heartbeat.

“I see, then why are you wearing these…” Keishin’s voice trails off and pulls at the material of the thigh-highs, snapping it against your skin.

“Actually,” he interrupts, “I have a more important question. But I need you to be a good girl and answer honestly.” Keishin whispers into the shell of your ear and nods a goodbye to the elderly man leaving the store. You two were alone now, the promise of other customers wandering in diminishing quickly with the time of day.

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy.” You try to coat your words in velvet as best as you can, but Keishin scoffs, clearly unamused.

“That’s rich, princess. Now tell me, did you go to campus this morning without panties on?” You knew the question he was going to pose, you could have even saved him the breath. You knew you were going to get caught, I mean, that is why you did it. But now, faced with having to atone for your sins, the confidence in your original actions was melting away.

“I forgot to put panties on this morning, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You try to pout in the sweetest way possible, but Keishin knows. You’re lying through your teeth.

“Tsk, you forgot. How could you forget if I laid them right on top of your skirt this morning?” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a damning article. As he moves the exhibit into evidence, light pink thong hanging off of fingers, you resolve that your little game was over long before you even tried to start. All you can do now is wait with baited breath and flushed cheeks for his next move.

“Stand up princess.” Ukai grabs onto your hip bones and lifts you upward. He spins you around to face him and perches his elbows on his knees. “Show me what’s mine baby girl.” His request, his demand, rolls off the tongue like icicles. You know what he means, but still stare back dumbly, mouth wide at what he was insinuating.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, little girl.” His words stir inside you. If he sees how wet you’re getting, you’re done for. There’s no escaping this moment though. You take a deep breath in a feeble fight against the suffocating feeling in your chest, and lift up the end of your short, black skirt so he can see you. All of you.

Your precious, sumptuous thighs now in his view. He studies the lines of the tattoos not covered with your stockings. Beautiful floral designs in delicate black ink. Keishin thinks the work you get done is always so beautiful. Every addition befitting you perfectly. He loves tracing the pads of his fingers over the art in softer moments. This moment though, was not soft, and the tattoos on your thighs were not the subject of Ukai’s attention.

He flicks his eyes up to meet yours briefly, and trails down from your quivering bottom lip, to your delicate, freckled collarbones peering sweetly from your large sweater. He drags his darkening gaze down further, cherishing every inch until he reaches your hips. Nestled in between the apex of your thighs, in small, dainty writing lays his prize.

“My Daddy Will Kill You.”

No matter what you did, he would always be there, snugly under the second layer of skin. When his fingers weren’t intertwined in yours, when he couldn’t have a protective hand in your back pocket. Whenever he was away with his team for tournaments or just when you were in class. He was always on you.

“Such a gorgeous little cunt you have.” He leans back in his seat, watching you fidget under his stare, “Whose cunt is this, baby? Is it your classmates? Is it your professors?” You bow your head in shame at Ukai’s insinuation, you know that going to class with a bare ass and a short skirt was going to get you in trouble. How could you resist though, when the punishment always feels so good.

“You’ve been acting like a petulant brat recently. I’ve been letting things slide because I know how stressful your senior year of college has been.” His tone is exasperated, but his eyes are calm, level, dark, “I can’t ignore this, you know that right?”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Your class was cancelled. So that means we get to start the weekend early.” He pulls your hands from your skirt, letting it fall back into place and holds both of your hands in one of his much larger ones. “Go upstairs and sit on the bed. I want you in just your skirt and those cute little tights you were so keen on wearing. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“But Daddy…” you really did like to test your luck sometimes, but the look he gives you, slightly shocked and more than lightly infuriated, was enough to make you hurry to the back and up the stairs to your shared apartment. You kick your sneakers off at the door and head straight to the bedroom. You pull the sweater over your head and unclasp your bra. Usually Keishin likes to do that step for you, savoring the way you shiver as he brushes the straps off of your shoulders, but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations.

You tremble like a puppy as you wait for Ukai and almost jump out of your own skin when you hear the front door creek open. Usually you are met with a bellowing voice upon his entry, walking through the door with a hearty, “Honey, I’m home!” even if you had only walked in a few steps ahead. Now, all you can do is wait as he mulls about the apartment with lackadaisical intent and a deafening silence. After a few agonizing minutes and feeling like he made his point, Ukai finally appears in the doorway, arms folded and pressed tightly to his hard chest with a categorically sadistic smile on his face.

“So, you do know how to follow directions?” You gulp loudly and nod your head, but quickly correct yourself. If you don’t use your words you’ll make things worse for yourself. “Yes, Daddy. I know how to follow directions.” It’s not a lie, obviously you are aware of his rules, you just prefer breaking them. Your response is small compared to the loud, sarcastic laugh falling from his throat. Ukai steps towards you slowly.

“You are such a little tease, I came up to kiss you goodbye this morning and found these still sitting on the bed.” He pulls the thong out of his pocket again and drops the lace into your lap. “You left them there because you wanted me to find them. You wanted me to know you were sitting in class with a bare cunt.” There’s no use trying to find an excuse to push past your locked jaw, because he’s not really asking a question.

“I left them on purpose, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Your mea culpa is underwhelming to say the least, and you both know it. You may be pleading guilty to all charges, but you don’t seem eager for absolution.

“You are such a little attention whore. My timid, darling girl has been acting like an insolent slut recently. What am I going to do with you?” His voice sounds questioning, but unmistakingly rhetorical. He’s known what he was going to do to you from the moment he spotted your panties weighing the bed down this morning.

“Turn around baby.” Ukai unbuckles his belt, and you turn away from him, tucking your legs to sit upright. He gathers your long h/c hair from where it was settled around your face and meticulously braids it to lay flat on your back, attaching the green scrunchy from his wrist to the bottom.

Just like a calling card, Keishin always had a scrunchy of yours around his wrist. Whenever you are hunched over the kitchen table in the middle of writing a paper, he pulls your hair behind you and fastens it into a bun, careful to keep it loose so as to not invite a headache, and kisses the crown of your head. Regardless of where you are: shopping, date night, visiting him at practice, if he notices your hair becoming annoying he will slip it from your neck and twist it into the green scrunchy.

And when you are about to be punished, Ukai pulls your hair into a neat, low braid.

You feel him run his hands from your shoulders to your wrists, pulling them gently behind your back. He presses your palms together and gives them a squeeze so you know to keep them together. Ukai pulls off his shirt, and frees his undone belt from his jeans, folding it in half and running the cool leather up your thigh. He swats softly at your skin, just enough to make you flinch.

Ukai tosses the belt to the ground, deciding he would rather you feel the sting of his palm, and sits down next to you on the bed. You face him with your hands still laced together behind you and let him position you to lay across his lap. The side of your face and your shoulders lay flush against the bed and your ass is raised up above his jean-clad thighs.

“You know the rules, right my love?”

“Yes, Daddy. If I lose count you have to start over.”

“There’s my smart girl. You look so beautiful like this.” He lands a smack on your right cheek, actions greatly contrasting his soft, almost taunting tone. “It’s such a shame you’ve been acting like such a whore.”

He delivers slap after slap on your bruising ass and you count every one out to him, briefly considering what would happen if you stopped counting, but you know that your punishment is already going to be harsh enough. You’re a masochist, yes, but not an idiot.

“Why do you always seem to be on your best behavior when I have you over my knee, darling?” Ukai connects his palm with your tender flesh again. “How many was that baby?”

“Fifteen, Daddy.” You speak in an even tone, if your boyfriend catches on to how much more you like this than he already knows, you’re, quite literally, fucked.

“You really know how to play me, baby. I’m always wrapped around your little finger.” He starts to knead your ass cheek with his large hand, skimming the tips of his digits against your wanton cunt. He’s testing you, wanting to see if you’ll start squirming or unclasp your hands from their position behind your back, but you hold steady.

“You leave me naughty little surprises. I had you on my mind all day, thinking about this naked little pussy walking around campus. One tiny slip and you would have shown everyone what’s mine.” Another sharp swat to your butt reverberates through the room and you can barely mumble out your counted response.

“But that’s what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted everyone to see this slutty pussy of yours didn’t you?” Whether that was the truth or not doesn't actually matter, you know not to make an excuse. You are just meant to count and thank.

“You need to stop squirming, princess, or you’re going to royally piss me off.” Ukai continues his relentless pace, two thick fingers pistoning deep in your dripping pussy. This was one of Ukai’s favorite games, finger-fucking you to the point of the bed under you slamming into the wall. Your job was to keep completely still. One arch of your back or escaped moan and he would land a sharp slap to your puffy, untended clit.

He’s actually being quite generous despite the circumstances. Usually, you would be propped on your hands and knees, but Ukai has laid you flat on your back with one leg tossed over his broad shoulder. The position, while easier to keep your body still, does mean that Ukai’s piercing, hungry gaze has you pinned like prey under him. The completely pornografic sounds of his fingers are making your head spin. The fact that he’s been hammering his fingers relentlessly into your g-spot for an hour, is starting to make your mind foggy, all thoughts are starting to slip from your brain and your boyfriend can tell.

“God, baby, I love making you absolutely stupid for me. I bet all you can think about is my cock filling this little cunt up, huh?” His words are sneering, taunting. Your response is a babbled agreement and plea for his cock, and the sight of you so completely fucked out makes the bulge in his jeans strain even further. The feeling of his fingers in your squelching pussy is dulling all other senses, so when he pulls the digits away, you can’t help the cry that rips from the back of your throat.

“Don’t worry, precious girl, I’m going to give you what you want. What you’re fucking desperate for.” Ukai pushes himself from the bed and removes his jeans and boxers, and you watch as his thick cock springs free to slap against his abdomen. The sound makes you mewl, your cunt clenching in anticipation.

As Ukai crawls back onto your shared bed, his head dips down in between your legs. He licks, flat and languid across your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue with a feral groan.

“Please, Daddy. Please fuck me. I- I need you. Wa- want to be your good girl.” You find your words as best as you can to beg for him, the sweet cadence of your voice and the way your weak arms reach out for his messy bleached hair signals to him that you’ve fallen completely into a foggy, submissive haze. You tug lightly at the tresses and the impressive self-control he has kept up thus far snaps like plywood under a heavy boot.

Ukai takes one more deep, hungry lick at your soaking pussy and sits up, pushing your legs further apart, digging his nails into the soft skin under your knees.

“Open your mouth, Princess.” You are quick to comply with his request, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. You hear the sound of him spitting, his saliva and your arousal coats the thickest plane of your tongue, but connecting one thought to the next becomes impossible as Ukai pushes his thick cock into you at the same time.

“Jesus Christ, no matter how much time I take to get you ready you’re still so tight. God, you make it really hard to stay mad at you.” His hands keep your legs pressed up to your chest, pushing his thick cock into you at an agonizingly lazy pace. Ukai was right, it didn’t matter that he had finger-fucked you into the mattress for an hour, taking him was a tight fit every time. As he buries himself in you, the intoxicating burn of being so full takes all of the air out of your chest. His thick cock stretches you so far, you swear he can feel your own heartbeat within the walls of your tiny cunt. He’s barely halfway into you and you can’t help but constrict, the tinny flavor of your orgasm crawling up from your spine to your mouth.

“There’s no way I’m letting you cum already.” Ukai snickered sadistically, thumb brushing across your tattoo, the dirty secret you shared, right over where you need his fingers most. He wasn’t going to touch your deprived clit yet, and hoping for him to do so was a waste of energy.

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise, I’ll be good.” Your tears are rolling down the side of your face, wetting the sheet next to you.

“You’re a pathetic mess and I’m not even all the way in you yet. I would save the tears if I were you, babydoll.” You try to compose yourself, but Ukai’s words of dismissive degradation give your whimpers more body, sobbing and babbling as his cock bottoms out.

You can feel every inch of him, hard and thick and so so full inside of you. Ukai pulls out of you completely, his soaking tip rubbing on your labia before slamming back in to the hilt. His pace becomes brutal with every thrust, original slow pace completely unknown to you now. There’s no way you're going to be able to stand properly after this.

“Daddy, please. Please let me cum. Need to cum, Daddy. Need to be your good girl.” A series of calls for your daddy and prayerful begs are the only things you know at this point, drool and tears covering your face.

“You know what, Princess? I bet I could make you cum with just one touch to that little clit.” Ukai takes one hand off of your thigh and hovers over where you have needed him since you woke up this morning. “If I’m right, I’ll make you cum again. If I’m wrong, you’re not gonna cum at all.”

You can feel the warmth of his finger looming over the neglected bud, the anticipation is overwhelming and cruel, but all worth it as soon as he pushes the rough pad of his thumb down. Ukai presses a single, taught circle into your clit and the coil wound tightly in your stomach snaps with incredible force. You know there is a scream that rips from your dry mouth, but you can’t hear it with the blood rushing through your ears. Ukai works you through your first orgasm, stilling his thrusts as until you come floating back down.

“I know this slutty little cunt better than the back of my hand. Now, my precious little thing,” You watch as Ukai hooks your limp legs over his shoulders, lining his throbbing cock back to your slopping entrance. “Let’s do that a couple more times.”

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

You feel your senses coming back to you slowly, with every delicate touch Keishin glides over your skin. He pulls you back to reality with sweet touches and the deep, gravely sound of his voice. After several meticulous moments and even more words of praise, Kei delivers a delicate kiss to your forehead and carries you to the shower. You take a deep, relaxed sigh as he massages your aching muscles under the hot water. After drying your exhausted body with a fluffy towel, Keishin helps you into a comfy pair of leggings and one of his sweatshirts.

“Take my hand. Take my whole heart too.” Your boyfriend’s broad arms wrap around your waist, hands finding purchase under the orange sweatshirt currently drowning your form, and you melt into his chest. “Because I can’t help, falling in love with you.” You turn around in his arms to steal a kiss, but as your lips attach to his a small laugh bubbles up from your stomach.

“What are you giggling at?” Keishin eyes you curiously, and you start laughing even harder.

“Oh nothing, I was just thinking about the bloody nose you gave me when we first met.” You cackle at the memory and feel Keishin take an exasperated but amused sigh, joining your laughter with his own.

“First of all, Princess, you ran into me.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#ukai smut #ukai x reader #ukai keishin x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #ukai keishin #coach ukai x reader #coach ukai #haikyuu keishin

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benlawwrites · 7 years

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AGENDAS pt 4

THERESA Theresa closed the door and locked it. But she didn’t leave right away. Instead she watched and listened to the exchange between Martin and Sandra. Sandra? For as long as she could remember, almost twenty years, Theresa had known her as Denise or Mother. She had taken care of Theresa and been a mother to her ever since her birth mother had passed away when she was eight. In that time, no one had called her by any other names but Madame or Denise in Theresa’s presence. Theresa had even grown to call her mom or mother when in the presence of company. She had no idea that she married, or even married to Martin for that matter. Married to Martin? Dead? Theresa knew she would have to wait to get the answers she needed. She looked through the peep hole again to find that Martin and Denise, or was it actually Sandra, had disappeared down the steps together. Theresa went back to her room after cleaning up the potpourri she had dropped earlier. She took another shower and started to get dressed. She discarded the dress she intended to wear, for a pair of house slacks and a camisole. Before Martin showed up, she was supposed to be accompanying Denise/Sandra/Mother to an important meeting. But then the confrontation between Martin and Mother happened. She lay in her bed and turned on the television looking for some kind of distraction, but visions of Martin and Mother kept popping up in her mind. She had to get answers. Frustrated, Theresa got out of her bed and went into the living room to get her cellular phone. She decided to call Mother first. The phone rang twice before it picked up. “Hello.” Theresa inwardly cringed at the sound of Georgia’s voice. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her, but Theresa hated that she always picked up the phone. No matter the time of day or night, it was like she was Mother’s personal body guard, or pit bull or something like that. Georgia was only a year older than Theresa and had been around almost as long as Mother had been. She couldn’t remember the first time she saw or met Georgia. She just showed up and never left. They grew up together. At first she was supposed to be a companion for Theresa, and she would have considered looking at Georgia like a sister if she had ever shown an ounce of personality. Her face and voice always read with extreme monotony. The only life she outwardly exhibited was done through her varying hairstyles, all ranging from different to full out weird. As weird as she was Georgia was more than efficient. One day while they were in a live away high school, Theresa had gotten into an argument with a group of girls. The entire time Georgia was right there seeming to not pay attention, she was practically invisible to the angry mob as she sat at the desk not far away. But as soon as the first girl lunged at Theresa, Georgia appeared between the girls and punched Theresa’s attacker in the nose. A loud crunch quieted the entire crowd and the girl fell to the floor holding her nose, blood freely flowing out. Immediately after the mob of girls dispersed but not before calling a teacher and blaming the entire altercation on Georgia. She was branded as crazy and Theresa never spoke up for her. After that, Georgia was pulled from the school and began a homeschool curriculum while Theresa finished high school and went on to college. When she returned home, Georgia was at Mother’s side operating as her personal assistant. “Hello Georgia, how are you today?” “I’m well, how can I help you?” Georgia’s voice wasn’t as pleasant as her words were polite. But Theresa could tell she was trying. She smiled at the notion. “I’m guessing that you and Mother have already left. Is she available to speak?” “Yes, please hold.” Theresa heard a commotion and Mother swearing at someone before she took the phone from Georgia. “Hello?” “Hello Mother, It’s me.” “Ah yes Theresa my love, I was waiting for your call.” “What is going on? Why does Martin think you are his dead wife Sandra?” Theresa heard what sounded like moans mixed with a chuckle escape her step-mother’s lips. She sounded calm despite the anxiety in Theresa’s voice. “All will be told in due time, child. But truth be told, you did well to hide that you knew me yourself.” “Well for a second I felt like I didn’t know you Mother. And Martin didn’t seem to catch that I called you Denise. Are you really his wife, Sandra?” Theresa heard Mother sigh deeply. “Hold on Theresa. Zack stop.” There was a loud smack. “I said stop, Boy!” There was some shuffling in the background, before she returned to the phone. “Yes dear. You just can’t leave well enough alone can you?” “Mother who is Zack and what was he doing that you had to smack him?” “Theresa, which do you want answers for, my past and Martin, or an unimportant boy that can’t understand simple English and has nothing to do with you? Pick your battle Theresa, and choose quickly, my patience grows thinner by the second.” “Tell me about you and Martin, Denise.” Theresa conceded after a moment’s silence. She could tell that her step-mother was in one of her moods, and it was best not push her. “I don’t have time to give you a long drawn out history lesson on my life so I will give you an abbreviated version. Before your mother passed, I was married to Martin, but he was abusive both mentally and physically to me. When I tried to leave he cornered me and the man that tried to help me. There was an altercation and Martin shot me and blamed it on my friend. They took me to the hospital and put an innocent man in jail. I let them presume I was dead. Used some contacts to forge my death certificate and create my new identity and now I am here. I had no intention of you having to deal with this and I was very much surprised when I saw him enter the building ahead of me. When I saw him at your door, and then you with him, I was shocked to say the least. I had no idea you were into more mature men, Theresa” There was an uneven silence as Theresa thought about the “abbreviated history lesson” that she just received. “But that can also be put to good use.” Before Theresa could respond her step mother continued. “When I return we will have to discuss how you will fit into my plans for the near future. I have to go now. I think I will send Georgia back to keep you company for a while.” Theresa was caught off guard by the last statement. But she quickly recovered. “No Mother, that wouldn’t be necessary.” “I insist.” At that, the line clicked and went dead. Theresa threw the phone into the couch with an exasperated sigh, and went to pour herself a glass of wine. As she finished her first glass in one long pull she poured another glass to sip. She had to think. Things just weren’t adding up. She wanted to believe Mother, but it didn’t make sense that Martin would have tried to kill her. The look on his face when he recognized his wife wasn’t one that a man that tried to kill his wife would have. Beneath that fear was actual hurt. She had to get more information. Theresa ran back to the phone, intending to call Martin but decided to send a text instead. He would probably be at work by now. But she really needed to talk to him. Her phone showed her that he received the text, so from here all Theresa could do was wait. “This can’t be real.” Theresa spoke to herself. Nothing about Martin correlated with the kind actions that Mother suggested. She had met him a year or so ago. He was dating his fiancé then but they weren’t serious yet, or so he said. He walked up to her at the bar in his typical arrogant attorney confidence, and was immediately shot down. But that didn’t stop him from approaching her every time he saw her in the bar. Theresa was sure he only wanted sex or a quick lay and a story to tell his buddies. So one evening she gave him just that. She propositioned him and they met in a hotel and had some of the best sex that Theresa had ever had. Even though Martin was almost 15 years her senior, his strength, dexterity and attention to detail surprised her and always left her wanting more. And more is what she got, even when things got more serious between Martin and his fiancé. Whenever things got rough or stressful for Martin he would find himself on her couch, in her bed, or like recently, in her hallway. It’s not like what they had was a relationship. Theresa was always fully aware of the situation and Martin’s intentions. But he made it enjoyable and he always treated her with respect. He never demanded that she not see anyone else, she just got bored with men that didn’t compare to Martin’s sex. She went on dates and would brush the men off at the end, so that they wouldn’t try to sleep with her. Martin even took her out every now and then. But when he told her that he had proposed, Theresa told him they had to stop. And then she told him again and again after every time they had awesome spontaneous break up sex, again and again. The sex was amazing, and the thought of his tongue literally made her eyes roll back with pleasure. They probably stopped at least six times in the last month. Theresa was about to indulge in one of her most vivid memories when her doorbell rang. She tried to ignore it. But it rang again. She remembered that Mother was sending Georgia to stay with her for a while and got up to answer the door. She grumbled all the way down the hallway, complaining that she didn’t need a babysitter. And was ready to tell Georgia just that when she pulled the door open. But it wasn’t Georgia. A smartly dressed middle-aged woman greeted her with a ridiculously fake smile. “Hello, are you Theresa?” The woman asked. “Yes, Can I help you?” Theresa wondered. “Why yes, I believe you can. First let me introduce myself. My name is Francis Moore. I’m Martin’s fiancé.” to be continued....

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coco-elk · 7 years

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Shellac Burger

Yesterday, Jamie Oliver came over and showed us how to make Fish Baps in fifteen minutes.

I guess he was showing other people, too- like, the whole nation, because he came over to our TV screen through the clouds via satellite…but it felt like a private class, ok.

So we felt all inspired and shit and decided to reinvent the wheel aka the fish baps tonight and look, they turned out pretty good. Eatable. Not burned. People were starving and desperate and so they got, well, eaten. Just joking, they were delightful.

I must share with you a little insight though into the main event which was of course the cooking of the meal.

Mimmy- AKA Kim, Kimmy, Mum- who is now a grandma named ‘Mimmy’ (yes you see what she did there) began the adventure of the bapped fish (which may or may not have been baptised I can’t be sure) -whatever that means, mid afternoon through sheer boredom. She had come home from work early because of flooding issues (of the storm kind you sickos) and we were surrounded by water,with cabin fever and making jokes about ‘weather’ or not we had enough wine in the scenario of actually getting legit flooded in. FYI, we came to the conclusion we would not have enough wine, so thank goodness we were able to leave the island in search of more. Phew.

Anyway Kim decides to begin to make the tartar sauce which she kept pronouncing as ‘taa taa’ sauce, mind you. I thought it was pronounced Ta-tare until i googled it just before. But as it turns out she is right and I was wrong but that is beside the point. It was kind of like how Dad pronounces taco as tack-o and cumin as ‘comin’. Yes, i know. It’s all meh Tomayto, Tomaaaaatoe- until its que-min or comin’-right?!

So she’s making the T word sauce and I’m in the lounge , like not IN the lounge, im on the lounge in the lounge room (silly term I caught off ex NZ friend)blogging away watching out the corner of my eye and I just kinda casually wander over like the judges on masterchef and suss the sitcho out a little more closely. Hand in back pocket of Jeans, relaxed body language- you know, I’m chill.

Problem number one: She has made a gherkin,parsley tartar-esque soup.

Problem number two: Problem number one.

Now, a woman has a few choices in such scenarios. I did not however think about any of these and so the following things occurred.

I may have referenced the runniness of the “soup” oops i mean condiment. (Not ,a good idea)

I may have also asked how much she was trying to make in terms of quantity (there was enough to last a small village about a week). Added insult (plus actual salt)to injury by pointing out that we didn’t have enough containers (yet) to sell soup at the market this weekend. Which, by the way we have never done and never will. No need to mention the time I had a cake stall in primary school with Sarah Anne Moody and no that was a different time to the one where Renee Degroot and I recited poetry aka busked.

As well as this, (STOP thinking about the poetry,please) because yes you haven’t met me and there is always more. Someone might have kinda been ushered out of the kitchen and the words ‘dont worry i’ll save it, we’ve got this’ used. In other words-step AWAY from the ingredients… Yuh huh.

Ok, Im now on mission save the soup let’s turn this into sauce. Old mate Sieve and food processor are on my team. I throw a few things in to de-souptise slash thicken the now sauce and all of a sudden we are born with a very bold gender owning ‘sauce’.

Mimmy exits to plough through paddock in search of love aka pick husband up from work and I, decide to pour a lovely glass of champagne that was lovely- before we didn’t pop the ah top on properly last night and flatten the living life outta her. Call it buzz kill, call it karma. Life’s a bitch so I just call it I had a few last night and got sloppy with the housekeeping.

Alright, Mimmy and Dad arrive home. Previously on ‘Sllowing down with the Elks’, Pete got slightly upset at being ‘made redundant’ from the fish cooking when we spoke about the soup, i mean burgers, on tonight’s menu.

Dad- senior fly fisher. Extremely talented. Made the Australian Fly fishing team at one point but he never got to actually participate in it. Don’t rely on my relaying of info though because I may have sort of misconstrued things and thought there was a fly fishing thing in the olympics and spread that story round like wild fire. Ok,ok, there’s no need to bring up the time I argued with my year one teacher about her marking me wrong for the spelling of ‘baby’ in my spelling test. I stood up and I stood my ground. Chloe as a 5 year old firmly believed her dad had confirmed in her practice that baby has a double b,spelled ‘babby’ and my dad did not lie to me. Apologies Mrs Brown if you are reading this. In later years it dawned on me when I asked him to confirm my (mis)spelling that perhaps he had bigger things to deal with. Nevertheless, you get a stronger sense of who I am from knowing such a story..

Back to the burgers- they’re done. dad cooked the fish, Mimmy fussed over the bun options- would you like half or a whole, toasted or oven roasted, fresh? with or with out butter? yeah. it was, personalised. And here Maccas is, thinking they have that personalised burger saga down pat.

Table is set. We are sitting, Madi is across from me.

I have to talk you through the plate. Burger, smashed peas and potato on the side. Jamie popped his mash on the burger a little at a time.

I, did not. I slammed 89% of that smash on the bun and went in for a bite. Madi, looked at me and i knew something was up. I chewed and swallowed and sheepishly went in for bite number 2. Yeah, something was up.

“ah, why do you tilt your head like that when you bite into the burger?” ( she mimics the 180 degree head tilt)we giggle. “I’m so glad i got seated opposite you” she says and Joel hoans in to the what i would call ‘excellent style of eating picturesque vision’ as he is sitting next to Madi. I just can’t go in front ways on a burger. It feels wrong.

‘Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk. how many dates have i ordered burgers on?” i ask myself as I switch to using cutlery. Sadly, we cannot blame my burger eating style because I don’t order burgers on dates. Do not be ridiculous.I just drink too much and morph from humorous to sloppy. However, if any ex lovers out there have ditched me because of the burger eating head tilt please don’t be afraid to come outta the pantry there and raise your hand.

BUT. We don’t call this story the shellac burger for nothing ladies and gentleman. No we do not.

All jokes aside (in anticipation for the next one) we, the elks clan, are sitting at the table (still). We are mostly a polite bunch with good manners and hygiene, sometimes poor pronounciation but you know, we wait until every one has finished until we leave the dinner table.

Scragglers of the eating world in exhibited ecosystem include and may be pin pointed to the more active chatters of the bunch- Myself, Mimmy and coming in at a close third, Madi. Chloe is poking through her mash, Madi is a contender purely because her knife is suffering separation anxiety from her fork with that unfinished look about them,but Mimmy, she is till going.

This is what happened next.

“Mads, I need to find a new nail lady. **LONGEST PAUSE EVERRRRR** Because I’ve lost a nail ,and I’m not sure where”

Me: WAS sifting thru my mash potato, and now sifting through it frantically. Look up and see the rest of the family trying not to vomit.

Que: family members leave the table.

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viralhottopics · 7 years

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‘Open the doors’: the Catholic churches hiding targets of Dutertes drug war

Despite the climate of fear in the Philippines, a growing number of churches have opened their network of safe houses to people at risk of being killed

The Catholic church in the Philippines is operating a network that hides addicts and others targeted in president Rodrigo Dutertes bloody drug war, priests have told the Guardian.

More than 7,000 people have been killed by Philippine law enforcement officers and vigilantes in Dutertes crusade against alleged addicts and dealers, often in hit-and-run style attacks by gunmen on motorcycles.

Victims are occasionally tipped off in advance that they are on a kill list and attempt to flee into hiding.

At his church in Quezon City on the outskirts of Manila, one of the few to have provided sanctuary is Father Gilbert Billena, despite admitting that he voted for Duterte in the election last year.

Even me, I was in favour of the war on drugs but I didnt expect this outcome, he said.

Many Filipinos support the executions, believing their neighbourhoods are safer, while others are afraid to speak out for fear that they will be accused of collaboration.

Despite the fear, a growing number of churches have opened their doors and their network of safe houses to people at risk of being targeted.

In one hideaway is an 18-year-old who asked for anonymity. In December, he survived a deadly vigilante-style shooting at a house party in one of the Philippines major cities. Seven people, most of them teenagers, were killed. He suffered a bullet in his abdomen.

The young man lives in fear, afraid the shooters may want to finish the job. There were rumours that there was a survivor and it was me the ones who did this would think theres a witness, he said.

Immediately after the slaughter, he sought sanctuary from the only institution that would take him in.

The church has helped him find temporary work, which he says he enjoys, but he worries about being exposed to strangers. Fireworks frighten him and he suffers from nightmares and insomnia.

These are the people who have been targeted by the cops, says Billena, the spokesman for Rise Up, a multifaith movement founded to resist the drug war. We offer the church to them on the condition that they should be serious about changing [their lives].

Father Gilbert Billena at a church in Quezon City, Manila. Photograph: Poppy McPherson

Despite mounting casualties, the senior leadership of the church in the majority-Catholic Philippines was initially silent on the lethal campaign. Many within its ranks were initially proponents.

But faced with growing numbers of dead, attitudes are changing. Sermons written by the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines and read out at Sunday services all over the country earlier this month labeled the anti-drug crusade a reign of terror.

The numbers of churches actually taking action against the campaign are still fairly few. Within Billenas diocese, there are only five or six, he says, despite an instruction from Antonio Tobias, Bishop of Novaliches, to give help to those in need.

He told me personally: Give them sanctuary. Open the doors of the churches, Billena says. Many also are not doing perhaps because they are afraid. They do not know how to do it.

The concept of providing sanctuary has a long history within Christian tradition. During the early years of the religion, fugitives were legally entitled to shelter in churches if they could get one body part inside the building or simply clasp the rings on the doors. Though the official right to sanctuary was phased out by the end of the 1600s, the practice has continued informally.

It has far more recent precedent in the Philippines during the Marcos era when churches harboured journalists, senators and other intellectuals declared enemies of the state by the regime. One of the most famous is the Baclaran, or the Redemptorist church, which runs several safe houses.

Us Redemptorists, weve been in more difficult situations before, says Brother Jun Santiago.

One 18-year-old in hiding witnessed a massacre in his neighbourhood. Photograph: Poppy McPherson

The Baclarans outspoken response to the drug war has made it a target for criticism. In a speech last year, Duterte singled out a photographic exhibition put on by the church that displayed the dead bodies of victims.

Although the drug war has slowed since Duterte announced a temporary pause in late January, the killings continue. The president has called in the army to take over from the police.

And Dutertes allies still pursue his critics, with police arresting a senator on Friday who has been the most high-profile voice of dissent. Senator Leila de Lima insisted she was innocent of the drug trafficking charges that could see her jailed for life, saying they were put forward to silence her.

Last month, we had two visitors straight from Malacaang, from the palace, says Santiago, referring to the residence and workplace of the president. They were our friends but they gave us some indicators that you are under watch.

The local police are aware of the presence of drug addicts protected by the church.

Nevertheless, the church continues to offer sanctuary and helps raise funds for families who cannot afford to bury their dead.

If we were intimidated, that would be the end of the role of the church, says Santiago, adding that at least 20 people he knows have been given sanctuary, some of them moved from place to place to ensure their safety.

Recently, he helped a woman whose sister was selling shabu, or methamphetamines, after losing her job at a beauty salon.

Masked men came into the house and dragged the woman away, telling her family to go to the local police station if they wanted answers. They later found her body in a nearby alley.

Her sister got a text from a number she believes belongs to a local police officer saying she would be next. We have eyes that watch over you, it read.

The 32-year-old and her three small children tried to shelter with neighbours but they were too scared to take her in. Eventually she found her way to the Baclaran, which found them somewhere to stay.

She says that after her sisters burial, she decided to kick her own habit. I thought: Im also going to bury my vice, she says. I want to regain myself and retaliate later on.

This whole thing the war on drugs it is only the small-time people being targeted, she says. Normally we look at the tree and cut the roots, and end things, but this time its the other way around cut the branches and the roots still remain.

Additional reporting by Rica Concepcion.