Blessed be the little loops at the ends of my backpack, for what would my hands know to do without them while I walk.
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i think the whole cringe is dead, radical sincerity, depth of genuine emotion, earnest effort, and unironic love thing that tumblr has going on the past few years has transformed my outlook on things and changed me for the better. but it does mean that now the people i know irl will give me strange looks for being too sappy or too poetic or too dedicated or too excited about about something because they're still stuck in their "well i only like this ironically" phase. guess that's their problem tho not mine <3
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the TSA almost always flags my crotch as sus which is kinda baffling bc you'd think the scanner would care more about things that shouldn't be there, not just my Absence Of Penis??
like uh oh, there's nothing there! what if there's also a lack of secret drugs or weapons in the spot where something Isn't!
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hate when customers talk to me in a tone like they think im an idiot but when i give the same energy back theyre like "Uhm... That's rude... Nothing personal but--"
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Actually…? No. Tell me the odds. I need the likelihood of success and got nothing else to lose might as well try even if extremely unlikely. Because I need help sustaining the hope that everything’s gonna be okay and motivation to get there that I just can’t do for myself without burning out almost completely.
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The more raw translations say the Himura's have been around for a long time, what are the odds of AFO and Yoichi being related to them?
I know I specialize in family trees and not statistics, but think about what else was learned of the Himuras that maybe I don't want AfO and Yoichi specifically to be related to them in this instance
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what do you like specifically about Kiryu?
the fact he has a laundry list of dumb things he's done throughout the games
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if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:
Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.
It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:
This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?
Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.
Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:
SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."
That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.
The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.
HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.
Uh oh!
Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.
You can guess where this is going.
So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.
Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.
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“coffee” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 618 words
“He doesn’t like coffee. He likes tea; no milk, two sugars.” James interrupts the random guy that’s been trying to ask Regulus out for coffee for the last ten minutes.
“Oh, okay… well, um…?” The guy looks at James then back to Regulus and raises his eyebrows with an unspoken question. Regulus just gives him a small shrug. “Right… um… I’ll just... I’m going to… yeah…” He mumbles, then just turns and walks away.
“Quite the linguist, that one.” James says with a small laugh.
“How did you…?” Regulus questions as he turns to look at James.
“You looked kind of stuck, so I thought I’d give you an out if you wanted to take it.”
“No, I mean, how did you know my coffee order, or lack thereof?”
“Oh, well, I sort of just pay attention sometimes.” James shrugs.
“You pay attention to me?” Regulus asks as he raises an eyebrow skeptically.
“Maybe… but not in a creepy way… I just like to know what people like, I guess.”
Regulus tilts his head and narrows his eyes at James. “What else do you pay attention to?”
“What do you mean?”
“You pay attention to what people like. What else do I like?” Regulus challenges.
“Um…” James swallows nervously. “Your favorite color is green.” He says it almost as a question.
“Everyone knows that.” Regulus says as he rolls his eyes.
“But you don’t like dark green, you like lighter green better, sort of like the color of a green apple.”
Regulus raises both eyebrows, slightly impressed and takes a step closer to James.
“Hm. What else do I like?”
James still seems slightly nervous but gaining a bit more confidence at the same time. “You don’t like tomatoes, but you love tomato soup.” James’ voice starts to get a bit softer.
Regulus tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows, it’s an odd choice but accurate, nonetheless.
“What else?” He takes another step into James’ space.
“You like white chocolate more than milk chocolate, but you like that you don’t have it very often because then it’s sort of special when you do have it.” James starts to whisper as Regulus moves even closer.
“What else?” It’s barely a breath as he gazes into James’ eyes.
“You don’t like when this curl falls forward.” He reaches up to tuck the curl behind Regulus’ ear.
Regulus doesn’t respond, he just hums and leans into James’ hand a bit. James moves his other hand down Regulus’ arm.
“You wear your jumpers a few sizes too big because you like when the sleeves fall over your hands.” He intertwines their fingers and continues-
“You like to paint your nails black, but you like it better when you paint them pink, but you don’t do that very often.” James quickly glances down to Regulus lips then back to his eyes. “You don’t like it when your lips get dry, so you always keep chapstick in your left pocket. You like the mint flavor the best.” James says it so quietly Regulus only hears it because he’s barely an inch away from him.
“James…” Regulus says just as softly. “What else do I like?” He breathes with a heated look in his eyes.
“Do you maybe like…?” He bites his bottom lip with a small smile and before he finishes the question, Regulus is already nodding.
“Yeah.” He says with a soft smile.
“Can I…” James’ smile grows slightly bigger as he flicks his eyes down to Regulus’ lips again.
“Yeah.” Regulus can’t help but smile back as James closes the final distance between them with a soft, slow kiss.
When they break apart Regulus smirks slightly and says, “You taste like coffee.”
James’ smile grows impossibly wider.
“Sorry.” But he doesn’t seem sorry at all as he leans in to kiss Regulus again.
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Angst/humor fic idea, if you need a prompt:
Bruce finds out the hard way which of his kids is okay with the 'unadoption' joke threats he makes when they annoy or stress him out. "Why did I adopt you?"..."I still have your adoption certificate. I wonder if the orphanage accepts returns?"..."I knew I should have left you on that street corner where I found you."
Dick fires back with twice as much sass, sometimes rolling his eyes and flipping off Bruce when he gets older.
Young!Jason looks so scared the first time he hears one, and Bruce never jokes about it again. Adult!Jason makes jokes about unadopting himself.
Tim is far too tired to register that it was a joke and gets quiet and avoids Bruce completely for the rest of the week until Bruce realizes what he did wrong and tracks his son down. They talk and Bruce never implies regretting to adopt Tim again.
Cass laughs along with him before pulling out her adoption certificate from her pocket and grinning, scaring him. His kids's adoption paperwork was all stored in a hidden, impenetrable, designed-by-Batman safe. Laughter fades and she just whispers "You'll never be rid of me."
Bruce- Maybe Talia wants you back.
Damian, not even phased- And maybe Alfred would have rather been working for a doctor than a clown-hating, nocturnal, combat furry, but I guess we're both out here disappointing our parents.
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cw for kidnapping and emotional manipulation
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Ghost spots a bird across the pub with her wings clipped. She trembles as she watches her friend disappear into the sea of gyrating bodies, holding onto a man she just met and is deciding to abandon her for.
“You don’t mind, right?” Her friend had asked.
She chirped ditheringly. “Um… sure, yeah. You go have fun.”
A fickle smile split her cheeks. A warm wash of liquid glossed her eyes.
Ghost watches her watching her friend. Sadness is written into her features. That type of sadness so deep-seated you feel it crushing your ribs, denting your heart. She sighs and hangs her head, staring down at her drink. Her ice cube has melted, the salt crusting her rim having hardened. Her shoulder start to shake.
Ghost decides it would be remiss of him to not check up on her. The bird with frilly feathers and bent wings, wounded, too feeble to fight back.
He throws back the rest of his drink. He doesn’t wince at the burn, but still, Ghost’s face puckers into something different. Something mean as he approaches her and lays his elbow on the bar’s sticky countertop, splitting his hand across the top of her spine.
“What’s a bird like you doin’ all alone?”
She girdles. It’s like she’s been folded in two and hung out to dry, the way she shrinks into herself and flexes her shoulders.
His words hang stagnant for a few seconds. Perhaps it will make him lose interest and slip away, but Ghost is a persistent one. The badges embroidered into his uniform are a testament to that.
He passes his thumb over her neck. She shivers.
“I… um. Well, my boyfriend’s in the bathroom.”
Ghost almost chuckles. The bird says it with such skittish conviction that surely, not even she believes it.
He grunts. “It’s rude to lie, y’know.”
She gulps. “My friend’s with me.”
“The one that just left you?” He asks. “A pretty shit friend, if you ask me. A bird like you deserves someone better.”
She purses her lips because they begin to quiver. She tries shouldering him away, tries blinking back the fat tears of brine that threaten to thaw and slip down her cheek. Her voice is distorted with discomfort and self-pity when she replies, “That’s stupid. I just want her to be happy.”
“And her?” Ghost prompts. He distracts her with his rough lilt as he slips his hand low, into the divot between her ass and waist. “How often does she fuck off with the men you fancy?“
She flinches. It’s the sudden recoil of her muscles, and her mind’s attempt at getting away from him.
“I-it’s not like that.”
“Yeah?” He asks. “It’s not like she leaves you alone every time you go out, lookin’ like a dolt when she finds someone more fun?”
She swallows thickly. Her lips warble around her next words. “… Sometimes, I guess.”
Ghost’s cock jumps. The fat mass pushes against his jeans, angled towards her.
“Yeah,” he croons. “I know how hard it can be. Why don’t you come over to my flat, huh? Give ‘er a taste of her own medicine.”
She inches away. Ghost only holds her tighter, gripping that broken little wing of hers and doting on it.
“I don’t… do that stuff. Sorry.”
Something primal in Ghost barks. That stuff. She’s never taken dick? Or never taken dick from a stranger? Either way, Ghost’s cock stirs and starts drooling on his thigh. She can probably see it. That blotchy stain on his jeans under the mellow lighting.
“I play nice, bird,” he mutters. “And wouldn’t it be nice to get back at them? Your mate? All those blokes who ignored you?”
She squeezes her thighs when Ghost settles his hand on her ass. She has trouble pulling them back apart, her thighs that is, as they’re adhered with slick.
“I asked you a question. Wouldn’t it be nice?”
“I guess so…” she whimpers. Keening into Ghost’s whispering touch, the heat of his cock.
He pulls a wad of cash from his pocket and slams it onto the table. He stands up, looking something like a predator on its hind legs, and pulls her from the barstool.
“Let’s go, pretty bird,” he leashes his hand around the base of her neck, leading her outside and into his rust-spattered truck. “You deserve it.”
A stroke of heat licks up her innards. She’s already dazed by the time she’s in his truck, preening as he splits his hand across her leg and digs divots into her thigh, kneading her supple flesh. She’s bleary eyes and impaired on arousal as they drive past the city’s margins and into the outback, the roads turning pebbled.
She’s too excited, too sweet to heed Ghost pulling her out of his truck and hauling her into a neglected flat.
She only feels his hands on her, big and warm. And the cool carbon steel of handcuffs locking around her ankle.
She smiles.
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hickeys on display
[🪐] satoru wears proudly the hickeys you left on him last night
pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader
genre: fluff
warnings: established relationship; only one suggestive paragraph; crack fic? again me trying to be funny; nanami mentioned!; slight possessive traits;
word count: 1k
..
nanami sometimes pitied you. you were a good human being, a nice woman, a devoted and strong sorcerer. but why did the world reward you with this menace that calls itself satoru?
the moment his eyes landed on the tall sorcerer walking in the bakery shop, nanami swore he wanted to throw himself off the window.
satoru had convinced him to go out to his favorite bakery shop to spend time while his beautiful wife returned from the mission. the blonde man actually didn't have any other plans for the day, so he could bare a couple of hours with the strongest.
but not like this.
Japanese culture revolved in humbleness and respect towards others. satoru was anything but that. he had gained multiple stares since he landed on the bakery, all eyes focused on the angry marks on his attractive neck and collarbones.
"what happened to you? were you attacked on your way here?" nanami asked sarcastically as satoru sat down in front of him.
"what do you mean, nanamin?" he faigned ignorance as he adjusted himself on his sit, his large hands fidgeting with the menu. nanami sent him a dead stare, not believing his cluelessness. "oh this?" he pointed to his exposed skin. "oh it's just that I miss my wife so much. I also want anyone to know im so taken."
Nanami couldn't believe his ears. he wanted to choke the hell out of the sorcerer for being so shameless.
"your ring is sufficient."
satoru eyed the silver band adorning his ring finger, the lovely reminder of your wedding playing on his head. "well, yeah I guess... but people dont usually look at other's people hands first."
the curious and judgmental stares from the strangers in the store were making nanami a bit uncomfortable. maybe he should just have his baguette as a take out.
"nanamin, have you ordered yet? I think ill have the strawberry cheesecake and a vanilla milkshak— what are you doing?"
in front of him was nanami holding up his phone, hands ready to take a picture of satoru as an evidence to you and a reminder to him to never go out with him again.
"im sending your wife a picture of you. I hope she doesn't approve this and takes you home away from people." as soon as satoru heard the mention of his wife, he stood taller in his sit, puffing out his hard chest, his exposed bruised neck more on display as a boyish grin struck his face.
"haha, okie~" a fit of giggles left his lips that made nanami exhale the hardest he had that evening. "please tell her I miss her and that I love her with all my heart."
come get your husband.
he has no shame.
your phone buzzed in your pocket as a final puff left the remaining of the curses you just have exorcized. you checked the message sent by a good friend of yours, nanami. you couldn't help but laugh.
since you were called for a quick mission not too far from tokyo, poor satoru was left alone without his pretty wife. he insisted on going with you, however you reminded him of the house chores he had been avoiding the past weeks.
your husband had a habit of sending you recurrent messages whenever you were away. it could be him on a mission overseas sending you pictures of himself in every angle just to crack a smile on your face. or it could be him spamming you on texting him back if you left him on read by accident.
right now, it had been around thirty minutes since satoru had informed you he had finished his duties, sending you visual proof—he would often get away with it—and a dozens of messages declaring he missed you and was miserable without you, so he let you know he would be visiting nanami, probably because there wasn't anyone within his range he could bother.
what you didn't expect was the photo attached to nanami´s previous message.
satoru was sitting in a booth—probably in some bakery shop—with one of the biggest grins you had seen on his angelic face. his baby blue eyes were covered by his rectangular glasses and his white hair was a bit messy.
but what immediately caught your attention wasn't his toothy grin or his perfect jawline—it was the shameless exposure of his bare neck, where purple and red marks decorated the pale skin of his collarbones, neck, and trapezius.
the night before was a night. satoru made you feel so full that your eyes were at one point covered in tears of pleasure, your jaw as tight as ever as you took all of him so well. the carnal heat inside you was boiling and daring to explote, so you released it with snug bites on satoru's skin, anywhere within your range, making him groan and hiss in painful arousal. there were moments where you would almost chew on the rosy skin to suppress the loud moans. satoru took good care of you. but now?
your husband deliberately decided to wear that low collar sweatshirt you loved so much. but not right now! how was he so uncaring about showing the entire world your marital business?
a sighed left your lips as you replied to nanami with an "im coming," before departing your way to the place, already having the directions since satoru left his location on with you all the time.
"please dont ever do this, toru."
"then dont give me these hickeys! and dont leave me alone too much! I need to remind myself you still exist, baby."
"I was done with my mission in like two hours!"
"oh wow, you are getting stronger pookie bear."
taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks
hello guysss, im working on other works because I have like so many ideas but it's kinda hard to write them all the way I want to. im also working on pt 2 of some works some of y'all have suggested. bare with me alr :]
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your roman empire with the one piece men
that small gesture or word he said that entered your mind and never left.
starring : zoro, luffy and law !!
word count : 889
author's note : again, i'm so sorry for posting so rarely, working and planning a wedding has to be the most exhausting thing ever, i promise to go through all of your requests and to be more present, tysm for your support ♡౨ৎ⋆.˚ some of these scenarios have been inspired by moments i often think about in my life, can you guess which hahaha??
zoro was smitten with you, and longed taking a step forward in your camaraderie, and everyone with a pair of eyes could see it. so when nami told him he was on errand duty with you and only you today, the swordsman knew it was his shot to get closer to you.
gosh, you were gorgeous walking around the alleys with the wind blowing your hair and diffusing your hypnotizing scent. and there he was, walking by your side like a guard dog with his hands the pockets of his jacket, listening to your enchanting voice.
the errands were nearly coming to an end, and zoro did not dare to "make a move", which he knew he would regret. the alleys got more crowded and he was afraid to lose you, especially since his orientation is not the best, though his senses would always bring him back to you. he knew that.
as zoro listened to you and internally debated on whether he should say something about his feelings or not, his body acted on his own, finally closing the distance.
as he gently grabbed your left hand with his right one, intertwined his fingers with yours, before putting both of his hand and yours in his right pocket, acting like it was the most natural gesture on earth.
and the butterflies in your stomach never died since.
luffy has always brought joy to your life and fed your desire for adventures and fun. he lit stars to your world and invited you to let go of pressure and have fun, not minding about third parties' opinions. a lot of people would question your couple association because of luffy's exuberance, but all them be damned. the future king of the pirates brought you back to life and no one could make you happier.
a sudden rain came down pouring on the grand line and the wind blew hard. the entire crew started running around to put back inside the furnitures that were left outside. the rain was so much that it started freezing and you started to run to your quarters. yet, as you were about to finally reach your door, a pair of elastic arms grabbed you and brought you back outside under the pouring rain, their owner sporting a huge, bright grin on his face.
"luffy!!! what the hell are you doing? it's raining and we'll catch a cold!!"
"chichichi, i wanted to dance with you, (y/n)!" he beamed, his eyes adoringly pleading yours to allow his antics as he started twirling you around under the pouring rain.
between laughters only him could exulate, you tried to bring him back to his senses.
"but luffy, honey, we can't dance under the rain! it's cold and there's no music playing!"
luffy did not mind your ramblings as he kept on twirling you around, his hand standing on your the small of your back the whole time, his thumb occasionnaly drawing circles. with a determined gaze and his signature smile on his face, he pressed his forehead on yours, the rain drops falling from his nose to your lips from the closeness.
"together, there's nothing that we can't do (y/n). after all, i'm the future king of the pirates!!"
his laughter hugged the atmosphere and made your heart race even more.
your relationship with law was a secret on the submarine, and it was hard for you to hide your adoration for your boyfriend. after all, what wasn't there to love? law was smart, composed, mature and commited. yet, sometimes, it felt so easy for him to "ignore" your status in front of the crew or anyone for that matter, which tended to hurt your heart. did law appreciate you the way you did? was it unrequited?
little did you know, law had a hard time not paying as much attention as he would when with the others. because he had a lot of work, even when the others were not around, it did not mean the two of you could see each other. therefore, the soft gestures he wished to cover you with were quite lacking. and of course, he was the one to have asked to keep the relationship a secret, and because of his prideful persona, he would not admit it was not a good idea.
you and bepo were getting ready to work around the submarines for your chores of the day. you were busy going around the submarine with your chores tool and bepo, and failed to notice your shoe laces came undone.
and of course, this would not go unnoticed by law. the captain could not stop himself from going to you with a frown, which surprised (and scared) both of you and bepo.
is there anything you did wrong? why was he looking so pissed off?
"idiot. you could trip and injure yourself." your boyfriend sternly spoke, kneeling to the floor to tie your shoe-lace, leaving bepo dumbfounded and yourself out of breath, with a racing heartbeat.
"you know i don't want you to get hurt." he said getting up, his hot breath tickling your cheek in the process, his warm hand resting on yours, silently promising to show his adoration for you like you deserve.
and you swore you could still feel the warmth of his hand from that day again.
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sometimes, bunny!reader had very little self awareness. even less when she was with rafe.
you’re at the nail salon, waiting for the lady that worked there to fetch the card machine so rafe could pay for the mani pedi you just received. he’d been running errands all day, but had made that little window of time so he could pick you up and pay for you himself — he was thoughtful like that, for you anyway.
“taking her time, jesus.” rafe complains under his breath, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks around the salon, straight faced. you tsk, gently smacking the arm of his that you clung to.
“they’re having a busy day, rafey! don’t be rude.” you inform through a glossy pout, adjusting your grip on him when he shrugs carelessly.
“yeah well, i got shit to do. what time is it, anyway?”
you lift your phone, tapping the screen with one taloned nail to awaken it. rafe looks over your shoulder too, like he subconsciously didn’t even trust you to tell him the right time. sometimes you did that, telling him it was earlier than it was when he’d ask so that he’d spend longer with you, thinking he had more time. whilst you were on the well behaved side, it was one of your more sneaky habits.
however, the kook boys attention is stolen from the clock at the top of your screen nearly immediately when you carelessly display his own dick on the lockscreen. the worst part is how you’re not even trying to hide it, practically waving it around for the salon to see. you turn the screen towards him, bracelets jangling as you shake the screen a little.
“see, m’not lying about the time toda—”
rafe snatches the phone from your hand, wide eyed as he glances around. “the hell is this, huh? why is my dick your lockscreen? don’t need people seein’ what i’m working with kid, jesus— change that shit. now.” he scolds and you pout.
“but, daddy i like seeing it.” you put on the innocent act— one you do all too well as you bat your eyelashes up at him, clasping your freshly manicured hands at your front, thinking the ‘daddy’ nickname will win you some points.
“do you like sitting down? ‘cos you’re not gonna be able to do that either if you start talkin’ back. change it.”
you stare him down for a second, resisting a foot thump before yielding, sulkily taking your phone back and opening up your camera roll to find a better picture to use as your lockscreen.
“good. play stupid games win stupid prizes alright i don’t need you parading my—” his lecture his cut short by the salon assistant returning, asking if he’d like to pay with cash or card.
you continue to sulk once you’re in the passenger seat to his car, choosing to inspect your nails over interacting with him. as he concentrates on pulling out of his spot, he glances at you quickly. “hey, cheer up.” it’s more of a command and your pout only deepens.
“i liked my lockscreen rafey. i changed it because i missed you.”
surprisingly, he huffs out a quiet laugh.
“and — and a picture of just me wouldn’t have sufficed? nah, you missed my dick.” he shakes his head, squinting out at the road ahead.
“missed both.” its quiet, but he hears anyway— glancing at you once more.
“yeah? well guess where we’re headed now?”
your interest is piqued and you peer over at him, eyeing the handsome cameron.
“home. so once again, you’re gettin’ what you want. so… so stop looking so heartbroken, alright? you’ll get your fix.”
like that, all is forgotten, leaning over the console to smear a glossy kiss to his cheek and grab him through his pants — usual behaviour back in tact.
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