#do just tell me if you guys want something longer

[odd-lil-duck]

A story!

Gumdrop was sitting in class, bored out of her mind. She was too smart for the regular classes but not smart enough for any of the advanced classes. She could keep up with her school work easily enough. Math was the subject she excelled at, though she could spend hours in her literature class. It was the first class of the day and by the time school was over with, she couldn't wait to go home.

x

"Yoooo!"

A voice was coming up behind Gumdrop. She turns around to find Citty Kat running up to her. Citty Kat was always beaming and ran around like sunshine was trailing behind. Today seemed no different. They ran up to Gumdrop out of breath. "Hey! Wait! Wait up!" Gripping their sides as if they had nothing else to hold.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah no totally!" They finally straightened out. "I just needed to tell you something!"

Something? Gumdrop and Citty Kat haven't known each other long, but Gumdrop could not help but be cautious anyway.

"Are you doing anything after school?" They asked.

"No...?" How important was this if they had to wait till after school to tell her?

"Good! Let's find Andre! We need to bring him with us too!"

Andre?

What does Andre have to do with anything?

x

They both found him outside the boy's bathroom. His last class of the day was P.E. so he just finished changing back to his shorts and long sleeve shirt.

"Yoooo!" Citty Kat was waving their arm around crazily to catch his attention. Gumdrop let her attention drift to the falling leaves.

"Is everything okay?" Worry spread across his face rapidly. His arms drift back to their normal place crossed over his chest

"C'mon let's go!" Citty Kat pulls him by the arm and begins running off, leaving Gumdrop to follow behind. She sighed and trudged along.

x

Citty Kat n Andre stop in front of the doors of some fast food restaurant. Through the windows it's busier than usual. Gumdrop catches up to them and stops in front of the doors. Citty Kat turns to them and speaks.

"Alright! Are you guys ready?" The two turn to each other in confusion.

"Ready for what?" Gumdrop knows they mean no harm - that's why she followed them - however what little she knows about them is that they are a very spontaneous, almost chaotic force. They do as they please and follow the wind in its spirit.

Citty Kat points to the sign on the window. "They have Buy 1 Get 1 Free burgers right now! We have to get some! Mandatory!"

"Wh- that's it?" Andre couldn't help but be more suspicious.

"The food here is sooo good! I've been saving up for a while and then I see the sign today!"

Gumdrop couldn't be any more underwhelmed. She turns to leave.

"No wait don't go!" Citty Kat cried out. "Just trust me on this, you won't regret it!"

Gumdrop sighed. She turned back to the doors. A wide small spread across Citty Kat's face.

"Alright let's go!" They all march in one after the other.

x

The line is longer than usual, giving the kids a few minutes to talk.

"Okay!" exclaimed Citty Kat. "Anyone have any food allergies? Any food icks? Anything?"

"N-no. Nothing like that." Andre shook his head. Gumdrop wordlessly shook hers.

"Okay! Stay right there!" Citty Kat goes ahead to the line, leaving the two alone.

Neither of them say anything for a few minutes, the silence growing almost unbearable. Andre shifts uneasily on his feet. Gumdrop keeps her arms crossed, waiting.

"So," Andre breaks the silence between them. "I noticed you keep sitting at the same spot at lunch alone."

"And I noticed you keep sitting at my spot at lunch," Gumdrop responds. Andre begins to fidget with the hem of his shirt.

"It's the only place, uh, away from everyone else, Idk I just needed to get away from everyone," his voice dropping to a whisper, "If you want me to leave then I can, uh, I can stop sitting there."

She turns to look at him. His head has dropped down, eyes turned to the floor. His hands are still on the hem of his shirt. His sneakers are pointed inward. The hat covering his head of hair starts to sag a bit.

Gumdrop sat on this for a moment. She has discovered her god was a false god, but she was still a student of his teachings. Her mind led her in one way, but her instincts.....

Sighing, she speaks her mind.

"I don't mind."

Andre perks up.

"you- you mean it?"

He looked like someone just gave him a puppy, thought Gumdrop.

"I just, I need my space. I need a moment to myself."

"Of- of course." Andre couldn't help but feel more than grateful.

"So-"

"Okayyyy!! I have the food!!" The smell was wafting through the air as it grew closer to the two. "Alright! Let's go find a table!"

x

"Go on! Give it a try!" Citty Kat smiles with expectation and excitement. They had placed the two burgers in front of the other two. Gumdrop couldn't help but feel uneasy at the sight of so much grease. She looked up to see Andre take a bite. His eyes were showing no more regrets in life, as if he had found the reason for living.

Citty Kat had looked at Gumdrop.

"Did you wanna try it?"

Gumdrop glances back to the burger. She picks it up in as much of a dignified manner as one can have while eating a burger. Finding the perfect bite, the texture floods in first. The flavor then seeps through the grease and various juices. The synergy creates a medley of different emotions and experiences all at once.

"Good, right?" Gumdrop snaps back to reality. Andre is most halfway done with his. Citty Kat is sitting there with an expectant smile on their face. "You liked it, right?"

Gumdrop chews a bit more thoughtfully, savoring every last sensation this burger intended to bring.

"Hm... This..." She couldn't help but ponder, trying to think of the best way to describe it. "This might be the best burger I've ever had."

Citty Kat's smile somehow grew even wider. They chew off the end of a fry in satisfaction.

"Wait but, where's your burger?" Andre began. "Why are you only eating the fries?"

"Oh, I don't like burgers." Replied Citty Kat. "I only really eat the fries and nuggets." They continued to munch on some more fries.

Gumdrop glances at Andre and then turns her attention back to Citty Kat. "So if you weren't going to eat the burgers from the burger place, why bring us? What is the point of anything?"

Citty Kat shrugged their shoulders. "Well, because it's fun! You guys try new things with me and I get to eat my favorite food! Win win!" Citty Kat grinned.

A look of confusion spreads across Andre's face followed by realization. Gumdrop let's out a sigh. They continue to eat in peace, Citty Kat rambling on about their day, Andre chiming in with facts about Pokemon, and Gumdrop sitting idly, listening to her two new friends while eating her new favorite burger.

how would one of your OCs react to a HUGE burger and delicious seasoned french fries?

[starsinthesky5]

what about joe? is he mr. possessive too?

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

oh, absolutely. joe is just as possessive, if not more. i mean, look at who he's with? millions of men and women had their hearts broken the moment the first photo of joe and her surfaced. plenty of people want her, but they just can’t have her…and joe makes sure of that ;)

the difference is that while she wears her possessiveness and jealousy like a statement piece--subtle but unmistakable--joe’s possessiveness is quieter, more controlled. but don’t get me wrong, it’s there, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to show itself. he was always, and i mean always calm, cool, and collected. on and off the field.

like when some random guy gets a little too comfortable in her space, touching her arm when he laughs at something she said, or leaning in just a little too close. joe doesn’t make a scene, doesn’t immediately pull her away, but his hand finds the small of her back, fingers spreading wide across her skin. he does that to not only calm himself, but calm her in case she ever felt uncomfortable from any of the attention she received, and sometimes she did. sometimes the looks would linger a second longer than they were meant to, sometimes a touch felt more forceful than playful, and sometimes she could sense the unspoken intentions behind a seemingly harmless gesture.

and when joe noticed (which was always) his eyes darkened, his jaw tightened, and anyone paying attention would know--he was warning them.

nobody is about to mess with his girl while he’s right there. nope. not happening. her comfort, safety, and happiness was his number 1 priority at any given time.

but he wouldn't always become possessive because he felt the need to protect her, there were some moments when she wore something that makes her look so good it physically hurt, and he believed that only he was meant to see her looking like this. he won’t tell her to change--he loves when she looks good, loves when she feels confident--but his hand stays on her, a silent reminder to everyone else that she’s his.

doesn't matter where, her hip, her thigh, her back, her arm...his hand is there.

and then there are moments when it’s just them--when the world fades away and all that’s left is heat and hunger and him. when he’s pressing her into the mattress, hands everywhere, touch burning and possessive. his breath is hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine as he murmurs, "mine. say it."

but it’s not just a request--it’s a demand.

his fingers tighten on her hips, holding her there, keeping her exactly where he wants her. his lips trace a slow path down her neck, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin, making her whimper. he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to push her to the edge before he’s even inside her. she’s breathless, dizzy with need, but he won’t move until he hears it.

"joe--,".

his grip tightens. "baby, say it,".

his voice is rough, wrecked, on the edge of losing control. she arches into him, nails raking down his back, eyes hazy with desire as she gasps, "yours. i’m yours, i promise,".

and that’s all it takes.

—

so, yes--mr. possessive is very much alive and breathing. and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

he never took it too far, never made it feel intimidating or aggressive. he was protective over her, and she was extremely grateful for that (mostly because her exes could never come close to how joe was so...man. does that even make sense? like 6'4, muscles for days, piercing blue eyes, and a smile that shined brighter than the rarest jewels in the world. like he was so man. so knight-in-shining armor coded). you know those tweets asking if a celebrities ex could fight because their significant other looked so damn gorgeous and the fans want a piece of that? well, prior to joe, her exes, no matter which one, would easily be mauled by the heard of fans that rode for her. they didn’t stand a chance.

but joe? oh, joey b knew how to fight.

oh, and he knew how exactly lucky he was to have stolen her heart, and she loved knowing that he never took that for granted. he was honestly wrapped around her pretty little finger, but in the best, most precious way possible.

his possessiveness came solely from a place of love, because joe burrow was not keen on the idea of sharing the best thing that quite literally had ever happened to him, with the entire world.

for example:

mr. possessive™ at paris fashion week.

—

she looks stunning. like, jaw-droppingly, heart-stoppingly, paris-just-declared-her-a-national-treasure stunning.

joe knew she would, duh. he’s seen her in everything, and more importantly, in nothing, but there’s something about the way she carries herself tonight--graceful, confident, walking beside him like she belongs on the cover of vogue--that has him feeling some type of way.

or maybe it’s the way everyone is looking at her that's affecting him--because everyone is looking at her.

the event is a who’s who of the fashion world, and they’re here as guests, dressed to the nines, mingling with designers, models, and celebrities. but no matter where they go, no matter who they talk to, joe can feel eyes on her. the cameras flashed like crazy when they arrived, the crowd buzzing with excitement as they made their way inside. she’s a star in her own right, and joe loves that. loves that she’s not just known as his girlfriend--she’s her.

multi-platinum, award-winning singer-songwriter. the pop princess herself.

like, hell yeah. he's her boyfriend if anything.

but with that title and prestige, those looks and eyes came naturally. one guy in particular--some too-pretty-for-his-own-good european actor type--has been looking at her a little too long.

joe notices it when they first arrive. then again during cocktail hour. and now, as they make their way to their seats for the show, pretty boy is back, standing just a few feet away, sipping his champagne and watching.

joe clenches his jaw, his fingers flexing slightly where they rest against her lower back.

she hasn’t noticed yet, too busy talking with the designer of the show they’re about to watch, laughing softly at something she says. joe loves her laugh, loves that she’s having fun, but it’s hard to focus when this guy is still looking at her like she’s up for auction.

and then--get this--he actually makes his move.

what a stupid, stupid mistake.

the guy steps forward, a confident smile on his lips as he says something to her in french--because of course he does.

joe doesn’t even give her a chance to respond. before she can turn to acknowledge him, joe is there.

his arm loops around her waist, pulling her close against his side, his hand splaying possessively across her hipbone. the move is effortless, smooth, like it was always meant to happen, but it’s intentional as hell.

she tenses slightly, finally catching on, and oh, she loves this. she doesn’t get to see jealous, possessive joe be so bold like this, but when she does?

it’s hot.

the actor’s smirk doesn’t falter, so either he was oblivious as hell or he had a death wish. "i was just telling her she looked stunning tonight,".

joe lifts a brow, expression unreadable but voice smooth. "yeah? you and half of pairs,".

the guy chuckles, clearly unbothered by the comment. "can you blame us?".

joe doesn’t answer him, because he's still seething about his smooth, buttery, alluring french accent (even though it did bother joe a teeny bit because of how he remembered her saying she thought accents were cute).

instead, he tilts her chin up and kisses her.

not just a quick kiss--a statement.

it’s sluggish, deep, possessive. a conscious show of who she belongs to. his hands slid up and down her sides, his lips mashed closer to hers, the soft sighs started coming from her mouth. damn.

when he pulls away, the actor is just...gone.

and she? she’s breathless.

joe smirks, brushing his thumb over her lips before murmuring, "you’re mine, baby. and i don’t share,".

she hums, pressing a teasing kiss to his jaw. "mmm. you like when they want me, don’t you?".

he exhales sharply, because she’s not wrong. "i like reminding them they can’t have you,".

[bitchinbarzal]

What Hurts the Most | M Boldy

summary: You’re not sure what hurts more—the betrayal itself or the fact that Matt lied to your face about it.

-

At first, it hadn’t even been suspicion, just a strange feeling in your gut when his phone lit up with a text from an unsaved number. You hadn’t been the type to snoop, but something in the way he snatched the phone off the table, fingers clenching around it like a lifeline, made you pause.

“What was that?” you’d asked, casually, over the rim of your wine glass.

Matt had barely looked at you “Nothing. Just one of the guys”

A lie. A bold one, if you were being honest. You had tried to let it go, forcing yourself to believe him, but the pit in your stomach only grew when you saw him slip out of the apartment later that night with a rushed “I’ll be back soon”

And then the truth had unraveled. Slowly, painfully.

It wasn’t another woman—that wasn’t the kind of betrayal he’d committed. No, it was something worse.

Matt had been meeting up with his agent for weeks, discussing an offer from another team. And he hadn’t told you.

You’d found out from a reporter.

Your boyfriend of three years, the man who once promised you forever, had been planning to leave Minnesota without ever telling you.

And then, when you confronted him, he lied again.

“Babe, I was going to tell you” he’d said, running a hand through his hair, looking every bit the guilty man he was.

“When?” Your voice had been so quiet, so controlled, when all you had wanted to do was scream “When you packed up your stuff and left me behind?”

Matt had sighed, his whole body deflating “It’s not like that—”

“It is like that” You had swallowed past the lump in your throat, shaking your head as you stared at him “You were going to leave, and you weren’t even going to tell me”

The silence that followed had been the final confirmation. He had no excuse. No defense. Because it was true.

So you left. Packed your things, walked out of the apartment, and ignored the way Matt called after you, his voice breaking on your name.

And then, you disappeared.

Matt had never known what it was like to feel lost until you were gone.

At first, he thought you just needed space. That you’d come back once you calmed down. But then days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

And you never looked back.

You ignored his texts, his calls, his attempts to see you. He saw glimpses of you online—smiling in photos with friends, looking happy, whole—and it killed him.

Because he wasn’t.

Matt had thought he could handle it. That maybe if he gave you time, you’d come around. But the longer you stayed away, the worse he became. His game suffered. His teammates noticed. Hell, even the media started asking questions about why he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But he didn’t care.

Because the only thing that mattered was you.

And he had lost you.

Until the night he saw you at a bar downtown, laughing with friends, looking so effortlessly beautiful that it made his chest ache.

That was the night he decided he wasn’t going to lose you. Not for good.

You didn’t see him at first.

You were mid-conversation when the air shifted, when something in your bones told you to look up.

And there he was.

Matt Boldy. The man who broke you. The man you still loved.

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, and before you could stop yourself, you turned and walked out of the bar, your pulse racing.

But Matt was faster.

“Wait” His voice was rough when he caught up to you outside, his fingers wrapping around your wrist.

You yanked away “No”

His jaw clenched “You won’t even talk to me?”

“You don’t deserve to be talked to” you snapped, your chest heaving “You lied to me, Matt. You were going to leave without even telling me—”

“I was scared” His voice cracked “I was scared of losing you”

The laugh that escaped your lips was bitter, sharp “So you thought lying was the better option?”

Matt ran a hand down his face, exhaling harshly “No. I was an idiot. I should’ve told you. I should’ve been honest. But I knew if I did, you’d tell me to stay, and I wasn’t sure if I could say no”

You blinked, momentarily thrown “What?”

His gaze softened, raw and vulnerable in a way that made your breath catch “I wasn’t sure if I could leave you. I thought I wanted to go, but the second you walked out that door, I realized I didn’t want any of it. Not without you”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, but you forced yourself to stay guarded “And what, you’re just telling me this now? Months later? You couldn’t have figured this out before you shattered my trust?”

Matt swallowed hard “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it. But I swear to you, I never wanted to hurt you” He took a shaky breath “I never signed the contract. I turned it down the second you left. Because none of it mattered without you”

Your stomach dropped. Admittedly, you had blocked all Wild chat from your life.

“You—” Your throat was suddenly tight “You stayed?”

Matt nodded “I stayed. For you” His voice dropped to a whisper “Because you’re my home”

Something inside you cracked. Months of anger, pain, betrayal—everything you had been carrying—it all came crashing down at once.

Tears burned your eyes as you stared at him, your heart warring with your mind. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to walk away.

But, God, you loved him.

You always had.

Matt must have seen it on your face, because he took a careful step closer, his voice barely audible “Tell me I’ve lost you for good, and I’ll walk away. But if there’s even a part of you that still loves me, please… just let me fix this”

A sharp inhale, a shaky exhale.

And then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you closed the distance and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft or slow—it was desperate, angry, filled with everything you hadn’t said.

Matt groaned against your lips, his hands flying to your waist, pulling you against him like he was terrified you’d slip away again.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless.

“I hate you” you whispered, but there was no heat behind it.

Matt’s lips brushed against yours again, his voice wrecked “No, you don’t”

And damn him—he was right.

[sacredsorceress]

hi! i’m new to your account , i came from your fluffy oldman!logan headcannons and they were to die for!! i loved it so much!!!

if you find time, do you mind making 40s!bucky barnes x reader headcannons but before hydra had taken him away? yknow, going to see stark expo, waiting for him to return from war, all that jazz?

i’m sure it will be amazing !!!! thank you so much , i really appreciate it !!🤍🤍

hi!! welcome to my account- I'm so happy to have you join us!! if you're new here and a fan of 40s!bucky I recommend checking out my 40s!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader Collection but omg thank you for this because I love any excuse to discuss 40s buck.

⋆｡°✩ Dating 1940's!Bucky ⋆｡°✩

ask box

The first time you met was at a dance club.

Bucky had been staring at you from across the room the entire night: watching the way your face lit up when you laughed along with your friends, and how your feet tapped along to the rhythm of the music as your friends danced while you watched their bags.

Your friends had teased you about your admirer, but you assured them they were seeing things. That was until with a clap on the back by his own friends, Bucky pushed himself out of his seat and strode across the room to you.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky smiled, putting out his cigarette. “Wanna dance?”

And who were you to say no?

From then on you were inseparable. You met Steve within the week and his mother within the month.

Before you, he had never taken home a single girl to meet his mother and sister. When Bucky had suggested it to his mother, she had a sneaky feeling that you were the one.

"What are we having for dinner on Friday, Ma?"

"I don't know, James. Why?" His mother asked

"I was just thinking... I could invite.. this girl over," Buck said, drumming his fingers on the countertop to play it cool. "Think you'll like her."

His mother would turn back to stirring the pot to hide her smile as his sister smothered a laugh beside her.

"Sure, hon." His mother said. "I'd love to meet her."

And when she finally did meet you? Boy was she a fan. Someone had finally managed to rangle her "lady's man" son into the type of guy who pulled out your chair for you, fumbled over his words with a blush, and said "please" and "thank you" to his mother when she passed a dish all to impress you.

He’d ask you to call him James instead of Bucky. Bucky was what his friends called him, but he wanted a name held exclusively for you.

He’d show up to your job with a bouquet of flowers he bought off some kid on the street and all the ladies in the office would gush.

“You’ve got a good one sweetie.”

“-And handsome! Look at that face!”

As mentioned above, when Bucky found out that the Stark Expo was in town he would have bought you both (and Steve) tickets before even asking you.

"Wow..." Bucky sighed, gob smacked, pulling you towards the stage where the flying car levitated above the ground. "You think there's enough room in the back seat for us to-"

"James!"

"Just messin' with you, hun." He laughed, kissing your forehead. "My car works just fine."

When his Ma and Rebecca were out he would slow dance with you in the apartment, letting the echoes of someone playing trumpet outside drift through the window and transport you into a world of your own.

I have a feeling he would always be sneaking up on you.

"James!"

"Aw, don't worry, doll." Bucky laughed, kissing your cheek. "Just me."

When Bucky got the letter in the mail, notifying him that he was being drafted, he was alone. His hands shook as he imagined everything that he had built crashing down and before he even realized what he was doing, Bucky had asked his mother for her engagement ring.

When he saw you later that evening, you could immediately tell that something was off. Bucky had tried to play it off for the first thirty minutes before he could no longer bear it and shoved the letter into your hands.

"James..." You sighed, a crack in your voice. "What are we going to do?"

With shaky hands, he pulled the ring from his pocket and held it between you.

"Let's get married." He said. "I don't wanna go away without you being mine. Just say yes, sweetheart."

Two weeks later you were married in a modest ceremony with Steve as his best man and a reception that followed in his mother's apartment.

On the day he went off to war, you pulled him into a passionate kiss with a tug on his tie. His hands found themselves tangled in your hair as you gripped his lapels, praying if you just held on tight enough that you could keep him there.

With a lipstick stain imprinted on his cheek, you let your husband go. As Steve held you, you kept your watchful eye on Bucky until he was nothing more than a glimmer in the distance.

You wrote him letters every day. Although his responses were infrequent and short, they were drenched with love and longing.

Three months after Bucky left, you discovered you were pregnant.

When he found out, he was a blubbering mess at camp, telling Steve he had to get home.

But he never did.

Six months later, you delivered a baby girl and managed to get a call through to him from some camp they were at (perks of being Cap's best friend).

"You did such a good job, sweetheart." He said, fist in his mouth biting back a sob at the wailing of his baby girl in the background. "Fuck. I'll be home soon."

On the day Bucky died, Steve called you. You weren't sure what it was but before you had even picked up the phone, your heart had sank to your stomach. You knew.

Your soldier never did come back home.

When Bucky finally remembered who he was all those years later in 2016 and found himself at a museum exhibit in honor of him and Steve, he experienced a fresh shock when you appeared on screen.

Your hair had gone gray and fresh wrinkles crinkled at the corner of yours eyes as you smiled, reminiscing over the past- his past with you. You still looked the same, but with the fresh maturity of a woman who had lived, not the girl he had left behind.

"I always said the cigarettes would kill him," You laughed, wiping a tear away with a shaky hand. "If only I knew."

When Bucky finally regained control of himself and his memories, the realization of the life you lost because of his death is what haunted him more than any crime of the Winter Soldier's.

The life he promised you on lone nights staring up at the stars from his rooftop or in his vows on your wedding day were all for naught. You would never have a house of your own, a giggling gang of children who had his smile and your eyes, vacations to different parts of the country... none of it together- none of it shared.

Though, when Bucky first met your daughter that even at the age of eighty had a hint of his smile and your mannerisms, he sobbed.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't feel sorry," She said sliding a rusted locket into Bucky's hands. "Mom always kept a photo of you on her. She never forgot you. So I guess you were with us after all."

Inside, a photo of the two of you on your wedding day stared back at him. This time he wasn't haunted but freed.

i had too much time to think and this became sad, oops!! sorry nonnie, but I hope you liked it <3. i also apologise if this is riddled with spelling errors,

we're chatting about our favourite MCU guys over in the ask box!!

[syrenqinche]

THE GOLDEN FOUNTAIN HEADCANONS ~ Caleb

content: smut|mdni, expanding on the golden shower kink, piss play, possessive colonel! caleb, f!MC, degradation, nasty af!

a/n: this is nasty guys, read at your own risk.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

✧.* So, the farspace fleet colonel is a very well reputed man, respected and looked up to by the masses. He is infamous for having no flaws and being the epitome of human perfection with his bravery, warm charisma and leadership. There is one sinister side to him though that the outsiders don't know about, and that is his nasty habit of relieving stress or anger by drenching you in his piss.

✧.* It started off as a one time thing, initially. It was after a particularly hard day at work where him and his squadron missed out retrieving some crucial intel. While he was already irritated, you were being difficult too, gossiping to him about a weird locker room conversation you had at work.

"The guys, they were joking about pissing on the weapons to mark them as their to use exclusively, like dogs. It was nasty. Caleb, are you listening?"

✧.* Caleb had had enough and stood up from the bed, pulling you towards the bathroom. He made you kneel inside the ceramic tub and stated only once, very clearly. "I'm beyond pissed off today, honey." He held you by the chin, unzipping his dress pants and popping the button with his other hand, removing his girthy shaft from under his boxers.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" you ask. You would, gladly.

"No, I want to just-" he purses his lips as a tiny trickle of fluid escapes from the tip of his dick and lands on your thighs. It leaves you stunned for a good minute as you piece together what Caleb really wants to do.

✧.* You nod at him after making up your mind and Caleb knits his brows together. "Stop me if- oh, god-" He lets go and a thick stream of yellow liquid bursts out of his dick, landing on your chest and soaking your shirt and pants. The pressure of the plentiful stream on your body does something to you - like a new sensation you never pictured before. You grab his cock to redirect some of it onto your face too, surprising Caleb. So, when you tell him you should incorporate this new-found kink into your daily lives, Caleb is more than happy.

✧.* Caleb now makes it a point to do it nearly every other day. It's become his go-to method to rid himself of negative emotions and to also make you hornier than ever. You once tried to take it all in your mouth, and once you made him aim the stream right inside your pussy. He'd happily oblige, discovering new ways to play with you using his golden piss.

"Since you love my piss so much, pip. You'll take it all like a good girl, yeah?"

"Need it all, Caleb. Give me all of it. Need to drink nghh."

✧.* You even graduated to pissing on him too. You'd lay on top of him, in a position similar to 69 and the two of would go simultaneously. Caleb would gasp for air as you emptied yourself on him, and you'd get your face drenched by the fountain coming out of his dick. When he couldn't pee anymore, you'd start sucking him off, hoping to somehow get more out of him.

✧.* The two of you would play this game where you'd see who could go longer without pissing. The loser gets to watch the other person pee on themselves and play with themselves without getting to touch any of it, no access to the piss, nuh-uh. Caleb is determined, he'd usually win this game.

✧.* After care involved a thorough shower session that would also invite steamy sex in the cubicle, but the two of you made sure your house never reeked of piss. After all, oftentimes, you'd host Caleb's squad or your colleagues over at your house. Little did they know the two of you were just holding your piss in, to shower it on the other later that night. <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

[joudeq]

kento x reader

~ cornball

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modern au : nerd!nanami x reader

tags : fluff / AWFUL jokes / hes a silly nerd / TW: exams / modern au / jjk / kento x reader (not gender specific) / oneshot

a/n : just a short nanami drabble bc i love him hes such a stupid loser

context : hes your nerdy roommate and you're both studying for upcoming finals, you find yourself overwhelmed with the workload and he tries cheering you up

ALSO 8 followers i love u guys

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The low hum of your desk lamp filled the otherwise quiet room. The exam was just a couple of days away, and the tension was eating away at you. You had been studying for hours, your brain already tired of trying to memorize everything. Each sentence on the page started to blur together, and you found yourself thinking more about how much you wanted a break than the material in front of you.

Nanami, on the other hand, was the picture of composure. He sat across the room, as usual, his posture straight and his focus unwavering. You could hear the sound of his pen scratching across the paper, making meticulous notes in the margins of his textbook.

You tried to focus on your own work, but it was useless. Your mind kept wandering. Finally, you couldn't take it any longer. You let out an exasperated sigh, slumping down in your chair.

"I'm going to fail," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes in frustration. "I can't do this. There's s no way."

He glanced up from his work, his usual calm and composed expression softened by a hint of concern. "You're fine," he said gently. "You've been studying for weeks. You'll be ready."

You groaned again, feeling the weight of your anxiety pressing down on you. "It just doesn't feel like enough. I can't focus. My brain is mush after digesting that much chemistry at once!"

He set his textbook aside and stood up slowly, walking toward you. He was always so composed, like the world was always under control. But tonight, something about the way he looked at you made him seem a little unsure, even bashful.

"I think you need a break," Nanami said, his voice unusually soft. "Maybe... maybe I could tell you a joke? That might help, right?"

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was serious. Nanami? Kento Nanami? Telling a joke? You could never imagine him doing such a thing. His usual serious, no-nonsense demeanor didn't exactly scream 'comedian.'

"You?" you asked, almost teasing. "You want to tell me a joke?"

He shifted awkwardly, his face turning a faint pink, and you could tell that this was definitely not his comfort zone. "Well, I thought It might make you feel better?"

You sat up straighter in your chair, genuinely curious now. You didn't expect your roommate to go for something like this. "Alright, I'm all ears," you said with a genuine smile, even though it was a little teasing.

Nanami cleared his throat, straightening up and pushing up his glasses as though he were about to deliver some profound piece of wisdom. There was a nervous energy about him, and you could see the awkwardness in the way he held his hands at his sides. "Okay, here goes. It's a simple one, don't get your hopes up." he muttered.

You waited expectantly, trying to hold back a smile.

"Why don't skeletons fight each other?" he asked, the serious tone in his voice making it sound like this was a big deal.

You blinked at him, confused but intrigued. "Uh,why?"

And without missing a beat, Nanami hesitated for just a moment, then nervously blurted out:

"Because they don't have the guts."

....

A long silence followed. Nanami's gaze flickered to the floor, looking extremely uncomfortable as he waited for a response. You froze for a moment, processing the full weight of the corny joke. You stared at him, and he was just standing there, his cheeks lightly flushed, clearly waiting for you to either laugh or tell him how terrible it was.

You couldn't t help it. The awkwardness of it all was too much. You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach as you practically collapsed onto the desk.

"Oh my god, Nanami," you gasped between giggles. "That was...That was so bad!"

Nanami's face turned a deep red, and he immediately looked away, a little embarrassed. "I thought it might help - you know, make you smile," he stammered, scratching the back of his neck. "It was a good joke, right? I mean - it's classic humor," he looked at you then, his eyes sparkling as if he was seeking your approval, a small smile curling the corners of his lips as he watched you laugh.

You wiped away a tear from the corner of your eye, still chuckling. "It was so bad that it was hilarious. I'm literally dying here."

Nanami shuffled awkwardly, clearly unsure how to respond. He had always been so calm, so serious, but seeing him this flustered made him even more endearing. He cleared his throat again, still trying to regain his usual cool. "It was just a joke," he muttered, his hands still slightly trembling. "I thought I'd lighten the mood."

You straightened up, finally able to control your laughter, and gave him a softer smile. "You definitely lightened the mood. In a very unique way."

He rubbed the back of his neck, still flushed but also looking a bit relieved that you weren't somehow upset. "I shall try harder next time. Maybe I'll work on my material."

You smiled at him, feeling your nerves ease a little. "Nah, you're good. You've definitely earned a break for the night. But next time, maybe leave the dad jokes for another day, okay?"

He raised an eyebrow at you, a little embarrassed but also clearly pleased to have made you laugh, even if in the most awkward way possible. "I'll take your criticism as a compliment."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you, It was the way he had stepped out of his comfort zone just to make you feel better, to bring some levity into your stressful night.

Suddenly, the tension in your shoulders seemed to ease, and you realized that for the first time tonight, you were genuinely at ease. Nanami had managed to make you forget about the looming exam, if only for a moment. And in that moment, everything else felt a little less important.

You paused for a moment, looking at him with a soft smile. The warmth in his expression was enough to make your heart flutter, and without thinking, you stepped forward and gently kissed his cheek, your lips lingering for just a second.

Nanami froze for a moment, his face going beet red. "W-What was that for?" he stammered, clearly caught off guard.

You smiled at him, feeling a rush of affection as you took a step back. "For making me laugh," you said softly, your eyes lingering on his flustered face. "You're a good guy, Nanami."

He blinked, still processing the kiss, and you could see the tips of his ears turning red. "Oh, um.. thank you," he mumbled, his usual stoic nature failing him for a moment.

The awkward tension in the air was gone, replaced with the comfortable silence between you two. You both knew that the exam was still there, looming over your heads, but for a little while, it didn't matter.

Well, not until you opened the exam paper in front of you the next day.

Sheesh, you seriously should've studied for this.

[starlitnightdream]

Love Of The Divine Tree FINISHED THOUGHTS AHHHH

I LOVED THIS DRAMA GORGEOUS BEAUTIFUL AMAZING YOU SHOULD TOTALLY WATCH IT. ( if you watched till the end of the moon and are in pain please watch this it will heal you)

Small review: Amazing drama where both ml and fl are very very likable. BOTH ARE AMAZING. This one does not raise your blood pressure heh both are perfect for each others stubbornness to save each other hahah.

About the ending: A great ending . Both come out of the final boss fight alive. no one person waiting in front of a reincarnation tree or whatever ( been there done that in the beginning of the drama instead ) A wedding scene ( fancy hair accessories yay) A proper happy ending they contributing to overpopoulation at this point lol was seeing him do all the work and was like NO? this can't be? the whole drama they were equal -but then they said they drew lots to see who was the shifu and who was the disciple for the day and I was like ah okay fair enough ( best would be alternate lmao but whats the fun in that for them ig)

Now we move on to some longer thoughts ahah. ( btw I still have lots of screenshots to post but wanted to post this first)

Su Yishui: adorable cutie who has done no wrong (if you actually think about it its basically nothing lmao) other than that one time man thought getting the spirit spring would be good for him.he blames himself for mu qingge's death which is pathetic bec its obviously everyone else's fault but his bruh why the guilt for something he didn't do AHHH. anyways best boi. (this drama also shows that tantai jin could have lived happily if he met someone nicer) man went through so much to save mu qingge and xue ranran later best shifu and disciple lmao. ALSO towards the end? they reveal man was so good to people even without mu qingge lmao bro was doing side quests saving everyone woahh. but man really thought mu qingge would blame him after she died to save him?? where did that genius go su yishui?

Mu Qingge/Xue Ranran: Best person su yishui could have ever met she sees him and decides yes this dude shall be saved. can't blame her lmao bro looks amazing and also was literally a sweetheart inside all that hissing cat exterior lmao. The efforts to save him man respect to her. another best shifu and disciple right here too ahah. The fl we all need who literally tells ml nah not believing those harsh words you say to push me away lol. ( because some fls really after the ml cares for her the whole drama one incident and they believe ml is bad???) Love her for defending him every single time and being there for him.

Wei Jiu: this dude was there for the comic effect you cannot convince me otherwise lmao. He and elder Tu could be the main characters of the usual misunderstanding filled drama lmao. Man is not a villain bahaha. man's pretty clueless lol.

Elder Tu: she needs to stop hiding her thoughts lol and with wei jiu especially lol crazy combo there both of them need to just COMMUNICATE BRUH. also she was crazier for giving up after one try wow. her full life she never told him anything and once tried it and decided to give up? not a fan of her hiding it from him because she should have told him he isn't that bad. if she told he def would have done something nice lol.

Su Yu: this guy started off good hmm thought he would just be the dude who liked fl lmao but man had a mini villain arc right there but then went back to do something great in the end lol. but also didn't like him ever since he purposely tried to make Su Yishui think Mu Qingge liked him. that hairpin scene was low ahhhh if he specificvally searched for the hairpin bec he knew what Su Yishui's mom had done.

Mu Ranwu: total evil bish. had no reason to become a villain but still somehow became one lmao. like even su yu fine his brother who he saved poisoned him.. but mu ranwu? her sister SPOILT her. still she got her killed and almost killed her in second life also that bish.

Wang Suizhi: Clown who liked mu ranwu because bruh what is there to like in that shallow evil person. she saved him? thats crazy she tried to kill her sister then but okay I guess... bro was crazy sacrificed his life for her. so not worth it.

these were random character thoughts lol there more but laterrr

still can't get over xue ranran and all the others saying he looked bad with the marks on his face lmaooo its was just some pretty lines bahaha the man looked equally gorgeous lol not much difference with the marks gone ahhh

[theguyinthemathexamples]

cw// lowercase intended, mentions of execution, just religious sagau stuff, the usual

this is mostly a shitpost but like,,

do y'all think exorcists, paranormal experts or the like use our name to dispel spirits???

like ik the part where the normal populace prays in our name after every action they do or after every meal, but the part where they say "May the Creator guide you,," like we say "May the Lord guide you,," and all that fancy stuff to get rid of evil entities

it's just ⚰️⚰️

like imagine one of the first "execution" attempts they tried doing — and the one that miserably failed — is exorcism. I.e them thinking and trying to "exorcise the demon that decided to take a physical form and plague Teyvat with its impure influence." would actually cause us to disappear 💀💀

(more utc ‼️‼️‼️)

like here you were chained to a tall block of wood, internally screaming your head off as an "archbishop" of yours is reading, what you can only describe as the autobiography of your life, to a dozen thousand people or so.

sometimes you'd get sprayed/sprinkled with some water from a bottle on his person while quoting some random shit you said as a child. the small grimaces and glares you send his way seemed to satisfy him and the mass below.

at some point you even began to doze off because of how long this "exorcism" was taking, even a little sore from having to be in the same position for a few hours now.

you do feel bad for the kids that are forced to sit through the entire process, knowing full well that this whole shebang won't work.

some even looked skeptical that this was going to work in the first place.

good for them, really.

i can just hear them chanting saying "In the name of the Creator, their creations and the holy spirit, may this demon be vanquished from both the mortal and spiritual realm! May they experience an eternity of pain for ever thinking about imitating our Almighty Creator!" while the archbishop does the hand flick to splash us with water

JUST IMAGINE THE AMOUNT OF DISTRUST AND SKEOTICISM AND JUST—,,, EVERYTHING EVERYONE FEEL WHEN THE SO CALLED "exorcism" DOESN'T WORK LMAOAOAOAOO

and then eventually they all just say fuck it and execute us physically when the religious shit doesn't work

[theflyingfeeling]

I think today I will cry about BC not making tour vlogs anymore 😔

[cerbreus]

🚣‍♂️

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[fingertipsmp3]

That last post just reminded me of something honestly mind-boggling that that friend did

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, loan shark!price x reader part 1, fem!reader, afab!reader, noncon elements, manipulative price, implied violence (not reader), petting, almost(?) fingering - 3K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune massive thank you to @pricetagged for keeping me sane writing this

“Mr. Price-” you spoke up, fingers massaging into your temples. 

“Said you can call me John, Sweetheart.” the man interjected with a serious look. 

He was currently hanging your entire life over your head and he knew it, you most certainly were not going to call him by his first name. Noticing your reluctance, he shrugged and leaned back into your dining room chair.

“Look, I’ve been as kind as a man like me ought to be. Don’t know how much longer I can shoulder the loss, and I don't know how much longer you-” He sent a condescending look of concern your way, a hand fishing into his pocket. “-can take the fees. I’m playing the good guy here, y’gotta pay up, lovie.” 

“No smoking inside.” you warned, voice less confident than you would have liked it to be.

His hand paused in his coat before slipping out and up in a sign of surrender.

There was a buzzing silence between the two of you, only interrupted by the occasional tick of your kitchen clock. It was hard to meet his gaze, eyes rooted downwards towards your table under the weight of your rising debt to one of the most notorious men in the city.

“Right then.” he huffed, palms coming down to rest on the table before twitching upwards. “So?” 

“Give me another month to pull something together.” you spoke, wincing when you caught the way his eyebrows quirked in surprise. “-Please?”

There was no telling a man like John Price what would be happening. He was the shot caller, the unequivocal card dealer, it was only by some higher grace that he let your ill manners slip. 

He grumbled for a moment before looking up. “I respect what you’ve got going on in the shop, I do. Lovely place, good atmosphere—we’re both the entrepreneurial type, so to say I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for you-” the thought that he’d lump your small shop in with his exploitative business made your stomach turn. “-but this is a bit much, yeah? Let’s give it up, sweetheart.” 

Your face twisted into a sharp grimace, but that was all you could do—what right did you have to tell the man whose money you were living off of to get out of your house? Even worse, you hated that he had a point; you were so tired of your lackluster sales and mounting bills, but-

“I’m not the only owner, I-I can’t just make decisions like that.” you reasoned.

He looked incredibly unimpressed, nostrils flaring with a dissatisfied huff. “Right, your business partner.” 

“H-he-”

“If it’s what you want, m’sure he’ll understand,” Mr. Price hummed, eyes narrowing. “I think you’ll find my men and I can be quite persuasive.” 

Registering your cautious demeanor, his lips curled upwards.

“Where is the bloke anyway?” John asked in faux-disinterest, disapproval blooming from his tone. “Always sends you to talk to the big mean lender. S’not right.” 

He shook his head and sighed.

“-Seen this play out before, love. He’s throwing you under the bus.” 

Your mouth shut, hard set into a frown—you knew he was right. Your business partner was most likely enjoying his morning in peace knowing it was your apartment above the building—your life about to be uprooted if it all went tits-up. It was hard not to feel played.

Mr. Price’s gaze glimmered in recognition, and slowly, like a languid predator, he was leaning across the table with a large hand over your own. 

You studied the sparse dusting of translucent hair on his fingers, the trimmed nails at the ends of his stocky fingers, his nice, expensive-looking watch—anything not to meet his eyes. 

“S’not worth it,” he urged softly. “spreading yourself thin like this.” he paused to think. “My advice? Liquidate, I'm sure you and I can work something out in the long term.”

You swallowed, throat feeling impossibly dry as you focused on the twitch of his thumb.

“I’ll think about it.” 

“I don’t want to be the bad guy, but business is business, sweetheart—I’m offering you a hand, it’s in your best interest to take it.” he spoke, palm patting over your digits before withdrawing into his pocket. There was a deep breath drawn in through his lips. “Right, I’ll be off then—Unless you want me over for lunch?” 

He chuckled deeply in solus as he stood, reminding you of a proud and awful beast. “Maybe another time then, love.” 

Ideally not.

-

The shop had closed on another unnoteworthy day, only serving to further hammer in Mr. Price’s point. With defeated footfall on the stairs up to your flat, you nearly slipped, shocked by a fist beating on the front door frantically. You slowly turned around, heart pounding from the sound.

“-Christ! Let me in!” Ewan, your business partner cried out from the other side of the threshold.

You hurried to the door; pushed aside as soon as the lock had released.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” you scolded over the shop door’s welcome chime. You were met without response while the man darted for the till. “What are you-”

“Not now,” he growled. “we need to get out of here.” 

Studying him closer, you realized one of his arms had been held up by a makeshift sling, tucked neatly beneath his quilted coat.

“W-what are you talking about?”

He paused, looking up. 

Your eyes widened when the light from the street outside washed over his face. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” he snarled, freshly dried blood crusting at the movement. His head dipped down as he popped open the till. “Price and his dogs want our heads.” 

“I just spoke to him this morning-” 

“Things change—may have pushed our luck a little too far. We’ve got to get out of town.” 

You frowned “I-I can’t just-” 

“Suit yourself.” he snapped, voice dropping to a mumble while his fingers grabbed at whatever they could, stuffing it into his coat pocket haphazardly. “-Sitting duck.”

“Wait—that's our money.” you balked, watching the empty register drawer shut. He offered you a bloody, tight-lipped smile as he sped past you towards the door; in and out like a typhoon.

“Good luck.”

You were stuck where you stood when the door swung shut, absolutely beside yourself in shock as you watched his figure disappear from view into the night. Looking around your shop, it was just as it had been when you closed up, but the knowledge that you were sitting on an empty till, all alone with the looming threat of a less-than-savory money lender finding out you were back to square one for your upcoming payment was not kind as it crashed into you. 

After a sobering moment, you hobbled over to the point of sales, turning the drawer’s lock tentatively. Of course, the tray was as empty as the day you had bought it, save for a spare coin roll shoved into the side. You stared down at the dark plastic, hand clumsily digging into your pocket for your phone. Swiping at the device, you paused, debating for a moment over whether or not to open the banking app; you already knew what you’d see if you did.

Confirming your fears, the log showed a hefty transaction at the branch earlier that day. The account had been emptied right before the banks closed. 

You had nothing to give John Price.

It was all gone.

You stared at your feet while it sunk in. Slowly, you regained the ability to move, making your way over to the shop door and locking it back up before spinning on your heels. The trip upstairs was eerily silent as you slipped into your flat, legs wobbling as you ambled into your washroom and stepped under the hot stream from your showerhead. You let the water run over you for far longer than necessary, only stepping out onto the frigid tile once your fingers had pruned. 

The dinner prep that followed had gone surprisingly smooth, serving as a vessel to pretend the foundation of your life wasn't crumbling away. You replayed comforting thoughts, words passing through your mind like a liferaft just out of reach– you knew Mr. Price, he always spoke gently to you, he would understand, he-

A fat tear fell onto the hand that braced you over the stove, watching the bubbling pasta through bleary eyes. With a shaking grip, you drained the water and slipped the noodles into your saucepan, stirring and sniffling lamely.

You made too much—you had nothing to give and you had made too much. Typical.

Sitting at your table, you ate in near-silence, listening to your clock’s soft ticking as you tried to ignore the afterburn image of Mr. Price across from you where he had sat that morning.

Your fork paused mid-air when the downstairs shop chime rang out. 

Had Ewan come to his senses? 

You closed your eyes and waited for him to call up to you. 

The stark sound of heavy footfall bustling around the lower level was the first thing to alert you to the intrusion—too much noise for one man. Setting down your fork, you stared owlishly at the door to your flat as if it was the last line of defense between you and whatever was happening down there. Through the muffled commotion, you could faintly make out the creak of your stairs getting louder—closer, you watched helplessly as the knob slowly turned.

The door opened a fraction, a thick hand curling around the side to brace it against the three thunderous knocks that echoed throughout the room.

“Come in.” you spoke up once your heartbeat had evened out, blinking as Mr. Price emerged from the dark stairway.

“Mmh, you’re here.” he stared down at you, a pleased rumble rolling around in his chest. “‘Course you didn’t skip town, smart. Good girl.”

He kicked his boots off and drifted through your kitchen; cabinets and drawers clattering behind you while he whistled breathily, dishing up some pasta as if you had made it for him—you do suppose he had every right to, though. 

Your whole body tensed as a palm ghosted across your back. The plate was set down, and the chair beside you was tugged out from beneath the table. 

Your eyes darted to his dish where it sat, steam trailing fragrantly. Mr. Price tucked in, humming lowly despite his tense demeanor. 

“S’good, Love. eat up.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and grabbed your fork, gaze falling back to your dish as you picked at the food, appetite long gone. Once again, it was you, Mr. Price, and the sounds of your kitchen—an unwelcome sense of Deja Vu creeping in. 

“Your money’s gone.” you whispered, unable to stand the silence.

He reached towards you, grabbing your napkin, and patting his mouth. “I know.” he scratched at his beard idly. “My boys are dealing with that.” 

You paled, trying not to think about what would happen to your business partner as you watched Mr.Price fuss with his fork, leaning in to take another large bite; a nauseated feeling washing over you. 

“What's going to happen to me?” you murmured, eyes downcast. 

His fork clattered quietly against his plate as his hand came to rest on the back of your neck, thumb petting at your nape. “That’s what I'm here to sort out, sweetheart.” 

Sort out. It was ugly, spoken as if you were just one of his assets. You nodded; compliance met with a soft, affirming squeeze. 

“We can work something out.” his hand traveled downwards, grazing your arm before landing on the meat of your thigh. “I don’t have to be the bad guy.” 

“Mr. Price..” you spoke after a sharp breath, tears threatening to well up. 

You missed the way his eyes crinkled at your weepy tone, thumb brushing your thigh in comfort. 

“I’ve had my eye on you, love—Would have never lent you as much as I did if I wasn't sweet on you. Thought maybe I’d be able to charm my way into your life but it seems like I only see you when you’re late on a payment.” he laughed hoarsely. A knee knocked into yours as he stood; his chair scraping beneath him. The floor creaked under bulk, two large hands coming to rub at your arms with hot breath and trimmed beard tickling at your ear. “-I’m a hopeless romantic, y’see.” 

“Price!” a voice hollered up, causing the man to straighten with a low growl. 

“What?” he barked, voice aimed downstairs.

“Trucks loaded up, gonna head back to the office, yeah? See if Simon needs any help retrieving the cash.” 

His hands flexed around your shoulders. “Good, lock up behind yourself. I’ll be a bit.”

You froze, looking up to see the looming shadow of a man; profile distinct in the low light. He turned to you, offering a tight grin while a wayward hand trailed from your arm to your neck, caressing the skin as he exhaled deeply behind you, resting your head against his abdomen. 

“It’s okay to give in, love.” he cooed. “Let me take care of it all.” 

You had nearly folded when that little prey animal in your brain stiffened, hackles raising. You stood carefully, sidestepping his grasp.

“No, I-I… I couldn’t impose… It’s alright.” you silently begged for him to understand your polite refusal.

“S’not imposing,” he challenged, glaring down at you. “imposing would be the number of zeroes on the sum you owe me—now you care about my burden?”

“That’s-”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart.” he laughed. “Now, sit back down.”

You complied, lowering back into the seat shamefully.

“Good.” he exhaled, crouching beside you with hands knotted together. “I always collect what’s owed, that’s one thing you need to understand.” 

You nodded.

“-But I’m not opposed to shouldering burdens where personal interest is involved.” His eyes searched your own desperately, palms unfurling to rest back on your legs. “You understand what I'm saying, yeah? You’ll never pay it off alone, let me help. I could take care of you.”

Overwhelmed, you turned away; the grip on your thighs tightening in response as he braced himself, standing up. A warm hand cradled your cheek as he drew your gaze upwards, free hand looping around your back and lifting you to stand against him like a marionette. 

“I don’t know what to do���” you sniffled as his big palm had begun to rub circles into your back. 

He shushed you. “-It’s okay, love. I can handle it, It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, turning and rubbing your face into his shirt as he comforted you. The entire situation was a disorienting experience. Had you done something so wrong to get here?– had it been a crime to want to live a gentle and quiet life in your shop? 

It was hard to care much for your sense of conviction when the root of your problem looked more like a finely woven cradle; what did it matter if you were to bend the knee to your devil’s appeal at this point? 

Still, it felt as if you were teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“I’m scared.” your lips settled for, hiccuping the words into his chest. 

He hummed thoughtfully, the noise buzzing around the walls of your head as his thick arms hooked around your neck, pulling you in deeper—a trap set without any fuss. 

“It’s okay for you to be scared,” he pressed a kiss to your crown. “There’s no way anyone was getting out of those rates you agreed to, love. Let me help you.”

You stiffened, head raising slowly to look at him. He smiled down at you.

“You definitely won’t be taking care of our finances, yeah?” John joked, letting out a deep, phlegmy laugh before he pecked your nose, pulling you back into his chest and rumbling against your head. “Enough nonsense. You’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

It was all so domestic—like he hadn’t just shown you his rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. 

His grip relented as he patted your bum. “Go on and get into bed, let me clean up dinner.”

-

So you did, brushing your teeth and feeling incredibly confused as to why you were readily complying. What truly got to you was how tender it felt—had you been so oblivious to his vying interest? You had just assumed he was a rare good-natured lender; though, you suppose neither of these had been true.

John Price was not a good man; although it was a recent revelation in the grand scheme of things, you knew this as a fact now. The other fact of the matter was that it seemed you were most likely the real collateral in the vulturine deal. Had he been playing the long game?

You could hear John floating around in the other room as you pulled an old shirt over your head to sleep in—the kitchen faucet running as you slipped into your bed. It all felt so wrong. 

Your eyes shot open when the bedroom’s aged floor creaked, deer-like paralysis keeping you snapshot-still as the ring of his belt buckle filled the static air. Was he—The rickety bed dipped behind you under John’s added weight, bedframe crying out with every shift of his body that came with tucking himself against you; achy grunts blowing out from his lips.

“Not as limber as I used to be.” he laughed modestly. “Still gets the job done though, I reckon.” 

He breathed for a moment before his nose dipped into the hair at your nape, sniffling around. 

“-Better than I imagined.” he grumbled contently.

Thick hands dipped under your shirt, massaging at the skin momentarily before slipping into your panties, tugging them out of the way. 

“Mr. Price.” you winced, feeling his cold hand on the sensitive skin.

his hands paused as the large man thought for a moment.

“Mrs. Price…” he chuckled after a beat, the hairs on your neck standing up in response. “-See? You don’t like it much, either. Now, what’s my name, love?”

“John.” you mumbled quietly, eyes darting around through the dark of your room.

“Mmh. good girl.” he hummed, hand cupping your cunt and thumbing at it absentmindedly. “Sleep, love. Big day tomorrow, yeah?” 

[pukicho]

You've changed, man. I don't know what it is but some time in the past six months your shitposting got a bitter edge to it. Sure you could blame the political climate or world events on it but...I dunno. I used to scroll your blog to momentarily escape the hardships of today but now it feels like even you're not a safe place any more. I wish you luck on your journeys onwards but I'm sorry to say I cannot travel with you any more. Be well, puki, and I hope whatever troubles you passes.

Escapism is important and I try to offer that to a degree, but ultimately, I am a person. I experience hardships, I empathize with the worsening conditions of my world. As long as I care about things external to myself, I will subtlety, or blatantly express them in some way in my blog, which I’ve done for years, not merely 6 months.

Unbeknownst to you, these concerns are often the inspiration for some of my most beloved posts.

You’re free to leave of course, if my 1 serious post out of every 30 fucks your day up that badly, then please, feel free! - I simply don’t see my blog as escapist fluff, it never has been, even if that is often the outcome. My page has always been about my interests, and I just so happen to enjoy making people laugh.

I see it more as a fun place to hang out and express the feelings I feel inclined to express, most of which are fun and goofy, some of which are not. I love our little playful back-and-forths, and I enjoy seeing your insights, even if some of you are fucking stupid as shit. Sometimes I just like using you guys as little guinea pigs, testing my odd expressions out on you, and sitting back and seeing the outcome.

Ultimately, I try to balance balance 3 things on my page:

Comedy, as you know - I like making jokes, I like testing them out on people. Even if they suck, I like writing them regardless. Sometimes I sit back after writing something I know objectively sucks, hit send, and watch as everyone tells me how much it sucks. It brings me joy.

A desire for money - because if not, I wouldn't be able to make posts half as often as I do (ie, shirt sales, promoting my music, etc) - Sometimes that anxiety for money also bleeds into my posts, it has for years; and I hold back from being even more desperate about money than I feel I should be sometimes.

And the point you brought up: The occasional comment on something real that matters to me. - Over the past 3 years, if not longer, I’ve made a few uncharacteristically-serious statements on things like Covid, Gaza, The Presidency, hell, even the indigenous people of Australia... and more.

Why do I feel inclined to discuss these things? Because I want to. My page has always been about what I want. Fortunately for you, what I usually want to do is to make you laugh! But sometimes I wish to express other feelings, because I have a platform that allows my voice to travel further than that of others!

For those angry at all the qualms I don't bring up, try to understand my balancing act, as someone who understands your desire for escapism, and the comfort that it brings you. If the veil falls, remember, we are of like-company - - and maybe, this veil was only ever in your head to begin with.

[soleilapproves]

The one where Toji gets a buzz cut.

Masterlist

-•-

You dropped the grocery bags on the ground when you were greeted by your boyfriend.

But not out of excitement or happiness.

“No! Your glorious hair!” You dramatically walked to him so you could take a closer look at the damage. Toji, being the evil man he was, laughed at your response. “What d’ya think? I hated my hair covering my eyes while I was on missions so I tried something new.”

“Something new? You look like a felon!” You groaned as your hands roamed around his scalp, hoping for a miracle that would grow his hair back.

“Alright, that’s too far. I thought chicks dug this look.”

“Not on you! Maybe some weirdo that doesn’t look like an assassin for hire.”

“But I am one.”

“That’s besides the point, Toji. You’ve hurt me. By cutting off your hair you’ve also cut off any ties you had with me.” You sulk.

Toji was starting to feel self conscious even when he knew the adjustment phase would go away. “Do I really look that bad, doll?”

“No, but-“

“There’s a but? Okay, that’s it, I’m not touching you from now on. Since I look so bad, you can come to me when you find me attractive.” Okay this was turned into a real argument and you started to get agitated too.

“Fine! Let’s see who’ll last longer.”

Toji simply scoffed and walked back into his man cave.

Who knows how long you guys were planning to do this for?

-•-

A long time. You both can go without touching each other for a long time. It had been a week and a half without any physical intimacy but the relationship was normal, you both spoke about anything and everything. Neither of you were showing signs of caving in (or were just that good at hiding it).

It was a quiet afternoon. Toji was out buying some last minute ingredients for dinner and you were starting to miss him. And as much you hated to admit, the buzz cut was growing on you. Just the other day you had to fan yourself when you saw Toji doing pushups where he looked like an underground fighter prepping for his next match.

To distract yourself you decided to spend your time calling your friend instead. You put her on speaker while you organized your closet.

“Girl, what do you mean it’s ugly? It’s all the rage right now.”

“I know. I hated it when he first got it and now all I can think about is pouncing on him. Ugh, I hate myself.”

“You live together. Just go touch him, you fool.”

“No, I’ll lose and I can’t lose to him. He’s always winning bets between the two of us.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes until your friend had some urgent business to attend to.

You turned around to grab the rest of clothes and shrieked when you saw a tall figure standing in the door way.

It was Toji. “Did you hear everything?”

“I’ve been here since you admitted that my haircut was hot. Do what you will with that info.”

You sighed as you sat down on the bed. “I guess that means you win.” He could tell you were pouting even when you were turned away from him. He smiled at your childishness and gathered you in his arms and made you lay on top of him as he laid down on the bed. “There, you won.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. I admitted that I wanted you first so you’re still the winner.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I’ve been thinking about pouncing on you since the day I got my haircut. I wanted to do it out of spite cause I knew you’d cave in but then we made that stupid bet.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. You do not look bad at all, Toji. In fact, you look like a hot felon. The type of felon that has a girlfriend who visits him.” You mumbled as you played with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uhuh, and does she do overnight visits?” He then started attacking your face with kisses as you start giggling.

It was you and your hot felon against the world.

[yanderedrabbles]

Cheat on me please

How to safely rid yourself of a yandere

There's no easy way to get rid of him. He's too obsessive. Too controlling. Too bloody single minded.

You tried talking through it and he just scoffed and said you were being silly. That you were just too hormonal and would calm down in a few days.

You tried going no contact and he showed up at your door. Hammered at it until the neighbours called the cops and they dragged him away.

You tried being nice about it and all he did was grab your wrist so hard it bruised. His eyes like chips of stone when he said he didn't want to hear it.

You weren't breaking up with him. You had no reason to.

And the worst part? He was right. You don't have a reason.

On paper, he's the perfect man. Attentive. Generous. Handsome. He buys you gifts, he lavishes you with attention, he's funny and charming around your friends.

And he scares you.

Not because of anything he's done. (Perfect guy, remember?) But some instinct deep inside you tells you to be careful around him.

This one's a predator, he's got claws and fangs, he'll fill you with venom and never let go, some ancient part of you insists.

But try explaining that to him. He's so mindlessly logical. He's not going to leave you because of a silly gut feeling. Come on baby, what sort of shitty boyfriend would do that?

And that's why you're down to half thought out, borderline silly plans to get rid of him. Get your hot friend to sleep with him. Catch them in the act. Throw a tantrum and finally get to break up with him.

You can't try and excuse cheating. It's abhorrent. And his logical side will surely see that, right?

One little hitch though. He's actually loyal to a fault.

Part of you finds it hard to believe. Is he really turning down your absolute bombshell of a friend? The girl all your exes were just a bit in love with?

Maybe he's just being cautious. Maybe he isn't lonely and needy enough to risk it.

So you up the stakes. Decide to avoid fucking him as much as possible. And oh boy, does it drive him crazy. He gets irritable and needy and somehow even more horny the longer your dry spell lasts.

And you know that you almost have him. He's just a man, no matter how logical he pretends to be.

You pick a fight over nothing. Blow it all out of proportion and storm out to stay with your parents for a while.

Piss him off just enough that a revenge fuck seems like a great idea.

He ends up drinking at a shitty dive bar and oh what a coincidence, your gorgeous seductress friend just happens to turn up. The last text she sends you makes it seem like she's finally hooked him and you hurry over to her apartment, feeling just a little giddy. Your plan actually worked! You feel like a goddamn genius.

And sure enough, his car is parked at her front door.

For a second, you feel a little hurt. Yes, this is the outcome you wanted. Yes, you deliberately manipulated him to get to this point. But it still feels like betrayal.

When you make it to her door, it's oddly silent for a supposed drunken hookup. But you're too geared up to notice it.

She left her door unlocked like you agreed and you tiptoe inside, your heart going a mile a minute. Her bedroom door is cracked just a little and a shaft of light cuts through the dark of the hallway.

You swing the door open with a crash, getting to ready to cuss him out.

And you freeze.

There's no guilty couple leaping away from each other, no smell of sweat and cum, no illicit rendezvous.

Instead your friend is tied to a chair, her mouth taped shut with silvery duct tape and her mascara running in black streaks down her cheeks. Her eyes lock onto yours and she tries to scream something through the tape.

The door clicks shut behind you.

You turn slowly. Like putting it off will make the situation less horrible, less like a dissociative dream.

Your boyfriend looks ragged. His eyes are blood shot and his hair is an unruly mess.

But the worst part is the way he smiles at you. Paternal, almost. Like he's caught you doing something naughty but he's willing to overlook it.

"Come on baby, you didn't think I'd actually cheat on you, did ya?"

His voice is condescending, but under the surface you can hear a cold, terrifying anger.

You swallow. Those same instincts that warned you about him are screaming now.

"What the hell is going on?" You demand, trying to sound angry instead of just afraid.

He steps toward you and it takes everything in you to not step away. He picks up a piece of your hair and rubs it between his fingers. Proprietary, possessive.

"What's going on? You should know babe. You're the one who tried to set me up... As though that skank over there ever stood a chance."

He tsks. "I knew something was wrong the second you stopped sleeping with me."

He leans forward and whispers in your ear, his breath ghosting across your neck.

"I fuck you too good for you to give it up so easy."

You jerk away from him, your eyes burning like you're about to cry. How did this go so wrong?

"Are you insane? Untie her right now! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

He backhands you right across the face.

He's never hit you before and the shock is almost worse than the pain. You stumble, clutching your cheek. Your face feels numb at first and then a sharp, fiery pain blooms across your cheek.

He grabs your collar and shoves you toward the bed.

"Oh baby, you're lucky I love you." His bared teeth catch the light and he looks more wolf than man.

The edge of the mattress digs into your thighs and you fall backward. You're still reeling and he has you pinned under him before you can find the strength to scramble away.

"Thought about killing her, y'know. What kind of whore goes after her best friend's man? You deserve better than that."

His grip is unyielding. A part of you always knew he was strong, but until now you didn't realise how big the gap between you actually was. His knee is between your legs and he brings it up to press against your crotch.

"But then a light bulb must have went off. And I decided to see how things played out."

He laughs and there's nothing warm or welcoming in it at all.

"All I had to do was squeeze her throat a little and..." He grabs your throat and thightens his grip until you see stars. "And she was just fallin' all over herself to tell me about your little plan."

He let's go and pats your cheek with rough little smacks. "It was cute, baby. Really was. But fucking stupid."

He leans down and kisses you. His lips are rough and he bites your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic tang of it makes you gag.

Your instincts were right. He's dangerous and you never should have tempted this monstrous part of him.

He tastes like cheap whiskey and you struggle to pull away. Your chest heaves and no matter how you buck and twist under him, he still keeps you pinned.

When he pulls away, something in your expression must please him because he hums and tilts your chin up. "But it's okay baby. We'll work through this."

He reaches down and tugs at your belt. "And I know exactly where to start."