8k words | 29/3/21
Hi :)
sorry for thelack of updates I haven't been
feeling my best. I'm trying n if you're wondering
I was just put into therapy to deal with my super
sexy main-character-like trauma!!! Woo go Chalk!!
Anyway, I got around to publishing a story exclusively
for smut. Enjoy . I'll prolly delete it so y'know </3
"Whats his name again."
"Jason dean, J.D. Its that chicks boyfriend."
"Wait why is J.D actually daddy."
Schlatt and I are sat at the kitchen counter that L's off the part attached to the wall. Its pretty quiet other than the movie playing from my phone. My lover doodles in a notebook with his blue-and-white mechanical pencil.
Basically everyone in the soot household (feat: Schlatt) is in the little kitchen / dining room / opening to the backyard. Everyone but David dearest, hes with Clay upstairs and has been for the past two days with no sign of return. Then again, it is pretty early. Either or - I wish I gave him a condom or something before going to bed.
He nudges my arm with his elbow.
"Wil." He tilts the notebook slightly so I can take a look "I drew you."
I hum and peer at the paper. Its a stickman holding a ukulele, or a very round guitar. But Schlatt is a good artist, so a very good stickman, holding a very good ukulele/guitar.
"Printed." I yawn into the back of my hand, despite how disinterested this action may come off as, I'm really flattered.
He chuckles breathily, subtly trying to slide my bowl of ravioli over to him so he can stuff his fat ass (WITH MY FOOD) even more. I subtly try to take his grimy filthy hands off of the bowl. He subtly calls me a greedy whore.
I feel a gentle tug on my pant leg, I look down at the floor and am met with Tommy peering innocently up at me. He decided to take the spot right beside me on the hardwood floor instead of at the table with dad or beside Schlatt on the last stool.
"Wilbur." He whispers to me.
"Yes." I whisper back.
He hands a paper up to me wordlessly.
Tommy and I have been exchanging letters in the slow way the morning progresses. Although he isn't as literary skilled as I am I can't help but be a little impressed - and by extension proud of how (almostnotreallykinda) easily he's able to get the point across. Honestly, the conversation topics aren't all that crazy or anything so far.
dₑₐᵣ wᵢᵦₑᵣ,
ₕᵢ wₗᵦₑᵣ ᵢₙ cₗₐₛₛ wₑ ᵣ ᵣᵢgₕₜᵢₙg ₗₑₜₒᵣₛ ₐₙb ᵢₜ ᵢₛ ᖴᵤₙ
ₜwₒdₐy ᵢ wᵣₒₜₑ ₁ ₜₒ ₜₒᵦy ₐₙd ₕₑ wₐₛ ₕₐₚₚy
ᵦyє wᵢᵦₑᵣ
𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑻𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚,
𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐! 𝑰'𝒎 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒇𝒖𝒏. :)
𝑻𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚
𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑰'𝒎 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈,
𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒍.
-𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒃𝒖𝒓
