#if I'm going to share a claim I'm going to check that it's at least mostly accurate and UNFORTUNATELY this one is

[snailtrain]

With regard to the Shinigami Eyes plugin issues, I want to stress how important it is to Trust, But Verify.

A tool can be wrong. This one in particular is curated by a team of human people who can and will have biases. Any easy blacklist curated by real actual humans is going to be open to their biases. AI or Bot driven lists* aren't affected by biases, but they also aren't smart enough to tell "Rowling" from "growling" or "terf" from "butterfly". Honestly, the bot/program that identifies words is more reliable in the long-run vs the one that relies on human input. It still needs checked, obviously, but it's largely free from human bias. A little guy that just points to words and goes 'it has these letters in this order!! Be Aware!' but doesn't assign Good or Bad to it.

It's truly unfortunate that Shinigami Eyes has been made unreliable through bias. This sucks! I wish it was not the case! It was a useful tool for a lot of people for a very long time, and the fact it's being weaponized now against my community is incredibly saddening.

Much in the way you cannot trust a callout post blindly, you shouldn't trust any labeling or blocking tool blindly. It's unfortunate that many people will be learning this through this debacle. :(

Links of reference:

As an addendum, because I did do some cursory lookin' and the link above to firefox reviews does reflect this: Things seem to have taken a downward turn in the last 5 months, though this problem of false flagging was absolutely present before. A tool that relies on user reports is not a reliable tool. Any number of factors can lead to false flagging. Humans and programs are equally fallible (for different reasons) and both can give you a wrong result.

Stay safe, friends. It's truly unfortunate that a tool trusted to protect us from constantly seeing rampant transphobia online has turned against the community it was built to protect.

*systemic biases do influence machine learning, ai, and bots. for the purposes of this, I used generalized words to mean 'an algorithm that blocks things based on a word or string of words without consideration for context', which is how tumblr's blacklist function works.

[court-jobi]

Hi! What are headcannons for izuku and wife reader in bed?

Oooo more headcanons for anon, comin' right up~ 18+ only, babes-- SFW here if you fancy!

A/N: Y'all are sending me the most darling asks! Due to board meetings and theatre prep I'm still working through this week's requests, on top of some long-awaited fics I can't wait to share... but I have a three day weekend ahead of me! thank you so much for all the inspo! keep em coming if there's something special you'd like to see~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!reader

SPICY MARRIED HEADCANONS!

Your Izuku is a fairly traditional man who's set on claiming you as a life partner first before getting fully intimate with you. The very night you proposed to one another ((#whenaskingfeelsright)) tested that restraint out of pure excitement for the future with you. His chest could have burst-- but also settled with such deep love, he's truly never slept better.

His mind might have rushed a million miles an hour with plans of your life together at the tip of his tongue, but the amorous dial was tuned down only by his lightning-sure concern for the concussion you were nursing that night... You wanted more from him, through lingering hands trying to draw him close and coax him into the bath with you...

"I don' think that's smart right now, love," Izuku purred down to you over the edge of the bathtub he drew for you, "want it as I might. I think we need to keep you nice and relaxed and calm while you recover for a bit. Is that ok?" "I am calm," you mumbled against his neck, laying a little kiss there. "I am relaxed. N'so are you. Yer so r'laxing." "M'sorry, baby, but I have to take care of you. All of you- including this big brain of yours," Izuku kissed it for good measure. "But believe me.. I want nothing more than for my beautiful wife-to-be to feel better enough to show her how much I wanna love on her..."

And love on you he can. Well.

It's not that you haven't tested the waters together. The day your makeouts turned heated -when you'd started grinding atop his thigh in a shallow attempt to get off, he'd been so flustered. It's clear from that early interaction; Izuku hadn't had a wealth of experience till you dated.

But once he realized he could bring these sounds out of you, make you melt into him, by his hand alone...

"Like... J-just touching you? That- this feels good? Yeah.. y-yeah, I can do that.. Tell me what feels good, love. Tell me just like this, m'listening.."

VERY vocal- very, very vocal. Not necessarily in volume, but in range. Izuku's voice flips at every little sensation, often. Every little graze of his cock will have him squirming in his seat. You can barely brush a hand or blow a quick rush of air along his tummy, and he will shudder involuntarily. He'd be so flighty and hyper aware of it at first-- at least until you assure him you're addicted to the sounds he makes, and that you love knowing how real those sounds are, hearing him moan with his whole chest- all for you.

Wanted low to no lights on at first... then you tried setting some mood with some smokey blue or purple ambient light, letting it bathe you both in just a bit of hue. Turns out, Izuku loved the change instead of cowering for the lightswitch: not simply for how ethereal it made you look, but how his insecurities just melted away in the light. Turns out, he was pinpointing every single one of his scars with cruel precision; and that's not how you view him at all. You helped him see light was nothing to fear-- he just needed the right filter of your love to let him see himself better.

And when you finally were gifted that private night all to yourselves after your getaway drive from the excitable venue space

-when you were settling onto your knees on the wedding suite's bed with exploring hands and barely any clothes

-when you asked Izuku ever so gently if he wanted to go to sleep or go to bed, he learned just how much he'd been missing out on:

You mean he can run his hands all the way up and down your bare back? He can scoop you up into his arms and just play with your tits? He can kiss every inch of you with nothing in the way-- and you LET him? He only ever wanted this with you, and has his dream fulfilled.

Loves anything praise. Whispering into his ear, raking through his hair with loving hands, pulling when you want him to look at you. He'll praise you endlessly too, especially when he's particularly lovesick for you.

"you're so warm... I've never felt this warm in my life. Oh God, mmmmmng, ugh y're just perfect, mmmmmng baby, b-babybslowdownicantbreathe NNNNG!!"

Izuku is gone over you. Slotting himself against you and shoving himself into the heat of you is a homecoming for him. He'll push and thrust with every breath he can manage, lost in every sensation while begging for more, begging for praise, begging for your touch like it's life-giving. Missionary is his die-hard favorite, but Lotus a very close second- for the views alone.

Morning sex? Izuku is down. Post-brunch playtime? Izuku is already having his 'second breakfast'. Naptime cuddles turn a bit more on the frisky side? Guess who's fault that is. Jumping to dessert before dinner? Guess who again. Izuku Midoriya holds no set 'spicy hours'; whatever his wife wants, his wife gets.

(personal take) but I'd think with how hard that man works, how much thought he puts into everything he does, how he ties such a great deal of his personal commitment and worth into his pursuits... it would be extremely hard to get Izuku out of 'work mode' and into a spicy headspace very easily.

He can't get turned on with just a single look at you. You're a sight for sore eyes at the end of the day- no doubt in mind about that! But he's gonna take some TLC before he's ready to jump into bed.

But give him a backrub, a hand massage, or the space to vent out all his leftover feelings and frustrations. Izuku will feel free, once it's all off his chest... then he'll look to you expectantly, ready and waiting for some beloved cockwarming. His chin will lift, some bidden tears may form at his lash line, and he'll look to you to relieve the rest.

"M'head's too full, honey. C'you make it stop? Please..?" "I just want you. Just want you." "Don' wanna talk about it anymore. Day's done. But this-- this, I want. This, I can do. I-I can be... I can be 'me' here.. right? You still love me like this?" "No one can settle me like you, sweet girl. Nothing comes close, feeling like this. Oh baby, please-- please can I have you? I'll be so gentle, I promise, please?"

When you're away for work (after your intimate life has been established), he truly thinks he's sore outta luck whenever he can't be with you in person... but you have other ideas to the first time you call him after the first four-day stretch of radio silence due to top-secret meetings... when he stretches while getting up from his seat and moans over the phone by accident...

"Careful how much noise you're making, sweetie," you have to tease him- just a little, "that does things to a girl."

"W-what?!"

"You heard me."

He's buffering. Chucking low, which only makes it worse.

"I do miss you," he offers shyly.

"I miss you too," you answer wistfully. "So much, my love."

"What have you got left? Two weeks?"

"Three, hun."

He hums a little agitated again, and you re-settle in your seat,

"'Zuku, what'd I just say?"

He's laughing incredulously now.

"Aw c'mon, you're turned on just hearing me stretch? I can't even complain how much I miss you?!"

"Nope. Not allowed.. unless you're trying to start somethin'~ "

He's quiet for a beat- off his guard. Izuku is scared to say something else, bc the soft noise in his throat is beating at him to come out. Had you been in front of him, you might have been able to see that shift.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Goodness, you're trouble..."

"You miss having trouble around~"

This makes him sigh, knowing all to well. "You know I do..."

"How much, teach?"

The formal petname both alarms and pleases him, you're sure about that. It's the first affectionate nickname you'd called him... but knowing he'd have to face his class of twenty with a straight face, the fact that you're sighing that title now gives him thoughts. Dirty thoughts.

"Don't call me that..."

"Awww why not?"

"Because my students call me that! And I have to be there in an hour and run them through evac drills today, and they're gonna be callin' after me, nonstop.."

"mmm so you're busy?"

...it's a trap... But Izuku falls straight into it.

You see it now, 13 hours away: Izuku, testing the accuracy of the clock on the wall with the one on his watch. Izuku ,sliding his morning coffee back onto the counter. Izuku, with the glow of morning sun still climbing through your windows in the front room, walking to make himself comfortable, calculating the riskiest wager and clearing his voice from away from the speakerphone.

You're rewarded for your soft voice that drips with desire; he's sat in his oversized papasan chair you two normally double up in for a nap- you can hear the creaks from the receiver, where he takes a knee before turning into it, already sinking his hand onto his partially unzipped fly.

He'll talk about anything and everything relating to you in order to make these next three weeks fly by faster. Anything to get you on a plane back home. Anything to get you back in bed.

"Not too busy for my pretty girl."

[auragasmics]

1:32 AM: A LOVE LETTER TO THE PRETTIEST GIRL!

spellbook intro! when Nanami takes a moment to study his wife after a date night, his heart pours out a soliloquy for the ages!

potion ingredients! 4.4k+, pwp(?), wife!reader x husband!nanami kento, fluff+ smut, fingering, clitslapping(1), cunnilingus, explict talk, mating press, grinding, allusions to sex (penetration), self-indulgent to the max ♥︎

note to casters! yeah, this is so indulgent. and i'm sorry i have to say this...p**** is pink :). grab a mirror and check for yourself.

Champagne. 

A drink known to be indulged during the most influential times of human history. It’s a famed tag that runs through nations upon nations, beloved by the heaven blend of Pinot, Meunier, and Chardonnay. It pulls the tongue into an envious ménage-à-trois between the rich taste and the cheeky spry bubbles seething one’s cheeks into a world of heat —all doomed to end once a swallow washes away all the bliss. 

From its days of ruling beside monarchy to its dwindled expression in the modern world, it has yet to lose its class. It still rules amongst those with exquisite, those who can handle the feverish rush of having rapture ruin all composure.  

It’s suitable for a man like Nanami to indulge in such refinement too, just a single sip from the tall slender glass seated beside his plate transports his mind into a place where the weight of a jewel-encrusted crown sits upon his head. And in this universe, he rules over a 64 square meter condo, a beloved lord sleeping in his king-sized bed, and a lawful husband to his queen. 

Another sip reminds him of the gracious air surrounding the night—a date night catered by a meal of shared efforts and a bottle of Nanami’s favorite champagne. It’s sweet like forbidden fruit, the heavenly delight soothing his woes. 

His gentle stare falls onto you, the infamous cinnamon fawning over how red complements your skin in that dress, over your delicate pout—no, obsessing over how your lips nurse the rim of the glass as if it were a kiss. As to how the heavens gifted a man such as he with one of their own angels, it’s a blessing he’s taken without a second thought. 

However, it’s a feeling that even after three years of marriage has yet to subdue. The riveting swell that throws his heart into turmoil whenever you giggle. The wash of goosebumps set to claim his skin when your hand simply grazes against his own. The trance your gentle coos lure him into, just like now.

“Kennnn, Baby? Are you okay?”

Flurries of mindless blinks brings Nanami back into the present, where he’s met with your own stare. Where silence settles comes the bustle of apologies and giggles, Nanami “Hm?—Oh! I’m fine, Honey. I’m so sorry—missed what you said there, can you repeat it?”

“Oh, it’s fine! I was asking what should we do about the dishes? All that cooking and I always seem to forget about cleaning.”

Nanami merely shrugs his shoulder, “I’ll wash them.”

“But aren’t you tired? We could just leave them to soak—”

The rambles of solutions come to a slamming shut as Nanami reaches over to your side of the square dining table, his fingers seamlessly knitting within your own.

“That was a really good steak. The garlic butter we made last weekend was a perfect touch. Oh, and the mashed potatoes, you always outdo yourself, Honey. All I did was peel the potatoes and help sear the steak, the least I can do is clean…right?”

A helpless sigh passes through your glossed lips, “You’re not getting me to agree, y’know. I still say we just go get ready for bed.”

Nanami calls his hand, his energy, even his presence over the table back to his side in trade for the back of his chair for asylum. He gives you a steady stare that pairs all too well with a grin and a pat on his lap. “Come here.”

There’s safety in being wrapped up in Nanami’s arms as you settle in his care, his muscle-ribbed arms thick arms lacing around your waist, his large hands draping off your hip, all while he keeps one leg bouncing to a steady rhythm. 

“Why do you worry your pretty little head off about the fine details, huh? That’s my job.” 

“I know, but…”

Weakness grows in your heart as you look down into his eyes—those tired eyes casted by an ardent glow. Exhaustion still can’t taint his heart, it can’t begin to ruin the tender nature he abides to you. You can’t help but soothe him, your hand racing to cup his cheek, the pad of your thumb skating along the curves of his bottom lip. 

“But you work so hard, Kento. You should come to bed with me, just leave all this for tomorrow.”

But you know him—he can’t leave any job with loose ends. Whether it’s at the office, small repairs around the house, or simply washing dishes, Nanami finds a sense of ease in the natural order of tasks from start to finish. And when some principle challenged his own, he had every reason set and ready to roll for an explanation.

Except for tonight.

Tonight, silence serves as Nanami’s winded explanation—and the kind pecks he pushes back against your touch. 

“Ken?”

“Mhm?”

“Aren’t you going to…say something…or anything?”

Patience gets the better of you as Nanami simply keeps himself entertained with your thumb. His kisses melt into you skin, his soft hums strike every fiber, and each pinch of his lips leaves you dangling at the end of your rope. Nanami stands from the chair, cradling you in his arms. His steps are guided by routine, up the stairs and through the first door to the right, straight into the bedroom.

Nanami drops you on the bed.

You can’t really pinpoint when the plush warmth of your bed welcomed you home, but with Nanami’s thick chest pinning you to the sheets, it’s a quick conclusion you push off rather quickly.

How could you focus on such fine details when he’s lathering the junctures of your collarbone in kisses, trailing back up to your awaiting lips. 

“Sweetheart.”

“Yes, Baby?” 

Nanami gives in to you with a kiss, his lips just barely sinking into yours before he’s hulling himself back onto his feet.

“Go get ready for bed and when you wake up, I’ll be right there next to you.”

Sleep is all Namai intended for you to have, he'd be damned if something so trivial as chores would prevent you from rest. And when Nanami did finish up with the last bowl, sleep fell heavy on his mind all the same.

It weighed heavy on his mind through a hot shower, through his nightly routine, even as he mindlessly slipped into a pair of briefs and beneath the bed sheets.

But…his tired eyes had to land on you—his precious angel.

Oh, his pretty wife who glows underneath the moon’s rays, laid on your side with the blanket tucked up to your chin. He’s eager to join you, sliding himself right beside your body—where nothing but a pair of panties hugs you. 

It certainly doesn’t help how you gravitate to Nanami, even while underneath sleep’s spell. Grinding the thick globes of your ass into his lap—and right where the head of his cock sits snug against the waistband of his briefs.

In a desperate search for a distraction, Nanami cranes his neck to greet the neon red digits bleeding through the face of his bedside clock—where the best joke known to man awaits him.

1:32 AM. 

Just an hour into the new day Nanami is met by pure mockery. Of course, his sweet wife all swept up in sleep makes for an even better punch line—-the growing bulge sinking between your ass. A quiet mind is all he wants, why he’s drowning his mind in those meditative mantras you’ve taught him when work becomes too much all at once.

But it’s a fleeting dream the moment those throbs ripple through the thick veins stretching over his cock. 

“Sweetheart, c’mon…give me a chance at least,” he’s muttering for his ears alone. 

Yet the only chance Nanami knows he has is to follow in your steed and sleep away his impending thoughts. He gently lifts the blanklet up to his shoulder, only for the chilling gush to fan across your body.

“Mmm, ‘m cold, Ken.”

“I know, I know, I’m gonna fix that right away, Sweetheart.”

Sunken beneath the heavy blanket, Nanami carves out every inch of your spine with his chest, slotting himself flush against you. His arms surge to envelop you, giving way for his hand to greedily cup the silky fat of your breast.

For a moment he’s sworn he’s beaten lust curse because well, cradling his sleeping beauty like this, allowing for his body, his warmth to sew his body to your own. 

“How’s that? Feels warmer now, Sweetheart?” His voice gently coos in your ear. 

He doesn’t expect much, a sheepish nod and a mumble thrillingly satisfies Nanami. He can’t explain it, but as he steals a glance over you, he finds his wretched mind delighted by mundane beauty.

A painting is known to capture a moment in time through the perspective of the artist—but what Nanami’s eye beholds before him is too good for any picture, any painting, for every medium of art would fail to capture the radiant glow the moon kisses upon your skin. It would fail to mimic the soft curl of your lips, free from control and lifted behind the pure rapture of your mind. It certainly couldn’t transcribe the very details consumed by Nanami. 

Maybe it’s due to the curse of the night overwhelming Nanami, but he simply can’t be alone right now, not while love has him spiraling down a self-induced hole. He can’t stop himself from taking to your shoulder, granting his lips the tactful satisfaction of littering kisses upon your skin.  

“Honey…are you really asleep?” He pouts, yet he immediately reflects on himself as he swipes yet another look at the clock. “

It’s what…1:40 now, I should be asleep too, however…” 

Breaking his trail of kisses, Nanami softly sighs as he gathers all his wayward thoughts, all for this moment only he’ll hold a record of.

“I can only say this while you sleep. It’s pathetic of me, but I haven’t gotten the confidence to face you as I should. I’m not one for many words, nor do I show all the emotion I hold inside of me. But, I hope that my love for you bleeds through every touch, every stare, every kiss, and every breath. I breathe for you. I live for you. And should it come to pass, I’d kill for you. I’ve never felt more endeared to anyone before but you…You give me all the strength I need to be a better man. I just hope to-"

“...Ken, Honey? Are you on a phone call?”

“Oh um…” His blood’s running cold through every vein in his body. Suddenly, he’s stricken dumb and frozen underneath the weight of speculation. But he is who he is—a calm man with logic on his sleeve. Pushing out a huff through his nose, Nanami finds himself at ease as he peers down at your hazy eyes.

“N-No, no…just…thinking aloud. Go back to sleep, okay?”

You muse him with a passing look over your shoulder. “Thinking aloud, hm? Tell me.”

Before Nanami can conjure up some excuse as his alibi, you’ve already to bury yourself within his chest. Your soft hands buff his nerves down to naught through lazy swipes across his taut pecs. In your care, his heart’s raging scream dwindles down to a tepid thump, his lungs spoiled with fulfilling breaths, and his mind’s calmer than the vast Pacific Ocean—all thanks to you. 

“You…really want to know?” 

“Yup,” your eyes flutter open to hang upon Nanami’s heavy lids. “Tell me anything and everything.”

Giving in, Nanami’s head falls into a gentle tilt, “Do you know how beautiful are you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“You say it like that, but I don’t know if you really do…”

“You think so highly of me.”

“I have to, you’re the woman I’ve devoted my life to.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret?” Nanami has to echo. It’s just one of the words that have escaped his vocabulary in recent years. And a regret in your presence is something he knows he’ll never, ever know again. “Never. And even if I did, I’d do it all again just to be with you.”

Gently you bite into your bottom lip “Do you remember our wedding night?”

“Of course I do. I mean it was such a—-”

“I think tonight’s going to be a repeat of that. Or better.”

As your words break through the air, you’re given the honor of watching Nanami crumble underneath the heat of your advances. Blush breaks across his cheeks, his pupils blown wide by lust’s bite, and right beneath your hand his heart’s back to roaring its spirted song.

“Real—ahem—Really? And why’s that?”

“Welllll…” The soft drag of your coo lures Nanami into hypnosis. “I just think it is, Baby. How’s that sound to you?”

“Go—Good. I can’t ever say—” 

Nanami lets your lips swallow down the last of his words in your kiss. He lets you take his last breath, his last thoughts, and all the sanity he thought he relied upon. In trade of that, he’s given the chance to relinquish all control just to drink in your soft whimpers, to sate his whims with your kiss, to scour your soft skin with his rough hands. 

Reality sets in hard and heavy for Nanami. To think, just moments ago he was too absorbed in admiring you—his wife, his lady, his precious angel tucked beside him like any other night.

His precious angel who wears sleep with a plump pout and soft snores.

His precious angel clutching at the thick pillow beneath your head.

His precious angel who has sin creeping along your curves and slipping beneath a pair of lacy red panties.

“Mmm…Ken…” your voice quietly breaks against his puffy lips. Your hips flirt with Nanami’s feathering touch, winding along to his shy caress. “Hmph…right…right there…”

“Yeah?” He allows for a lone digit to greet your dormant clit, the warmth of his touch gently thumbing circles into your bundle of nerves. “It’s riiiight here, isn’t it pretty girl?”

He plays coy, letting honey drip from his lips and into your ear. “Tell me so I can make everything better, Sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Ken please—Harder, baby, Harder!”

Dumbfounded. A dumbfounded gawk is all Nanami can muster towards you—until the ends of his mouth curl up into a grin he buries along the pulse of your throat.

“Harder?” He mocks with a hiked brow. “I don’t think you can take that, Honey. No…but…since you asked so nicely…”

SLAP!

The loud clash of Nanami's palm against your splayed cunt rings in silence over the room, serving as the perfect beat for your body to comprehend the brash course your husband's veered the night into.

“Oh–Fuck!” Tossing your head back between your shoulders, you mewl as the heavy chimes around the room. “T-that’s too much, Ken!”

Nanami hides his chuckle behind a kiss he presses to your temple. “I Promise that’s the last time tonight.” His sights slip down between your legs, watching as his fingers work to soothe your poor clit from his torture. 

He feathers down to your slit, the tight pink ring suckling to Nanami’s familiar touch. His intentions you know are pure, even amidst such lust staining the air. He’s so gentle with you, having his digits complement the perky bud of your clit with sluggish strokes, teasing your hole with the sticky circles he draws. 

All for his digits to fall victim to your pussy.

“Oh, such a greedy baby,” Nanami gasps. He’s forced to ignore the heavy stains of precum ruining his briefs, but he simply can’t let you have your way. It’s enough that he’s curling those slender fingers within your heat, strumming along the gummy walls he’s planning on staining white.  “You can’t take me just playing with you, you need so much more.”

A slight curl to your lips spites him. “I guess you know me well, Honey. Your fault for spoiling me.”

“And? You know I don’t regret a moment of it.”

He’s so sweet with you, peppering kisses along your cheeks, filling your mind with saccharine hymns. Yet he’s incessant with his reach, sending his digits to know every inch of your pussy with each strike he drills into your sweet spot.

It's just like Nanami, once he’s found a goal, he’ll work and work until the logic runs dry in his mind. He’ll work a hellish job for the trade of money, he’ll risk his life for the trade of saving others, and he’ll work his hand to the raw nerve to turn your pussy into a sputtering mess. 

“Good girl, you’re making me so proud, Baby,” Nanami coos, his eyes glued between your twitching legs. “Oh, I wish you could see what I do.”

“A-and w..wha-at’s that?” 

Your stumbling words earn an esteemed chuckle from Nanami. “Well…I could always just describe it to you…But there’s something I need to do first...”

It isn’t like him to keep you puzzled, especially with words nonetheless. But Nanami’s a man of action, letting his body move to support his cause. His cause for tonight, however, called for his body to slip away from your warmth all for him to be planked between your thighs and his hands kneading at your plushy skin. 

“That’s even better. Now, where do I even begin…”

His thumb comes to peck at your bud, lazily scrolling at the perky pearl in swipes. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, counting the minutes until I’m back at your side…back between your legs…back to having this pussy drip bliss back into my poor soul.”

It isn’t enough to have you laid out on a silver platter where his tongue can lather at your honey for hours—Nanami needs you to know just how deep his depravity lies. He slowly drags his tongue to wet his plump lips, soothing the ravenous urge that boils to the forefront of his mind with dumb babbles. 

“Just so…pretty…and pink. So sweet, so soft. Honey, I can’t go a day without you, you’re my lifeline, every beat of my heart. I just…”

His touch gets the better of his coherency. He knows better than to find focus elsewhere when speaking, but in truth, Nanami did not—he should not have caught your slicked hole fluttering at the sound of his soliloquy. 

“Oh…Fuck me…”

He wants to be kind, he wants to be sweet, and Nanami wants to embody the very traits he’s fallen in love with.

But he can’t.

Nanami can’t play the nice guy when he greedily welcomes your pussy back into his salacious mouth with a gracious sigh, his jaw hungrily working to force that poor button into a pudgy bloat.

Cunnilingus. It’s an art he’s swiftly mastered after three years of marriage, learning every inch of your body like your own. He knows where exactly his tongue should flit, where his finger curls the best, and even how long it should take for your body to shatter at his hands.

But it’s an effortless art when mastered behind love, and it steals Nanami’s breath away every time he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” his curse breaks through the air. His hands knead at the silky plush hidden underneath your thigh, leaving every curve of his fingerprint to sear into you—-to mark you as his own. He’s eager to catch your eyes, those adorable eyes that well up with the fattest tears whenever he pedals his tongue right against your clit.   

As the age-old game of cat and mouse welcomes itself onto the stage known as the bed, you unassumingly take up your role the second you jerk away from Nanami’s silent plea.

What he wants from you—time, affection, or maybe even an orgasm, every idea falls to the back burner the moment your hips mindlessly buck into his mouth. You could have sold him the story of it being an accident, but why ruin his fun where he’s so hellbent on this one night that your body’s finally taking offense?

Though, when the rare glow dots the eyes he shoots up at you, you swear you can see hearts in the distance of his blown pupils. 

“Oh, look at that,” Nanami almost humors himself as he takes another glance at your cunt.

A precarious man such as he can’t afford to miss any details. His eyes cling to the unfolding sight, how his thick digits bathe in your essence, carefully sketching his own path about your folds so rich with nerves. He’s shamelessly gawking at how the succulent hues of rose bodes well with his fair skin, each pass he bestows upon your cunt pulls him into a self-induced trance.

“Making such a mess just from me talking. What a dirty mind you’ve got, isn’t that right, Honey?” 

Right on the tip of your tongue, the words baste behind the sweetest rapport. You could let him have him, fill his ears with talk of how lechery paints his face like a mask. He is your husband, yet the side he’s letting out to roam tonight leaves your fuzzy mind combing with an answer—and fast. 

“W-Where is this co-comming f-from, Baby?” 

That’s what you say, but the moans slipping from your traitorous mouth when Nanami plants one last kiss to your folds tells him all that needs to be known.  

“What?” He chuckles to himself. The pads of his digits wade through the glassy web sewn between your delicate folds, “Can’t handle me talking about your pussy, Sweetheart? I’m sorry but you'll have to take it. And, speaking of taking it…you know what else I love about you?”

“What’s that?” Your voice trails out behind a whimper.

Just to catch your eye, Nanami allows for the single tug of his briefs to free him from hell reincarnated. With the gray waistband sitting underneath the heavy bloat of his balls, his hand hungrily grips the base of his cock. A hellish squeeze around his rippling veins has your eyes nearly crossing at the pearly tears spilling from his tip. 

With the thread of sanity left in your mind, your hands race to ball the blanket within your fists, for some kind of grounding. “Fuck! Please! Please, tell me, I can’t wait anymore, Baby!”

“Let me show you then,” Nanami hums as he cup at the back of your knees. “I love when I fold you in half…juuuust like this…”

His words speak for him, Nanami’s sheer strength working pin your poor, tired body into one of his favorite positions—a mating press.

“I can see just how hard you try to take every inch of me. Making your poor pussy stretch around my cock, you must really love me, don’t you Honey?”

It’s sinfully natural the way the fat blushing crown of Nanami’s cock sits upon your clit, a detail he’s made himself keen to. His thick bulb sobbing those white tears all because of badly he needed to have you. To have his fingers work at your gushing cunny is one thing, his cock on the other hand?

He’s on course to face ruin tonight.

He’s already planning the next position, the hour, the next day, all dedicated to keeping his fat length choked within your walls for as long as he could.

Why with such knowledge, it’s no wonder his hips fall into a languid toll, leaving the thick head to trace every curve of your cunt. He’s driving up against every nerve just to watch your face quiver, to see those tears he loves so much all from a little teasing. 

His head dips along the marked tract of your neck, a cowardly move to hide his own flush face. His hands clip to your waist, baring your body between the smothering warmth of his thick chest and bed—without an inch to spare. 

His muffled voice hums against your neck, “T-That feels good right?” 

“Fuh–it’s s’ good Ken. ‘m so close, Baby please!” 

“It’s too soon to cum, Sweetheart—you know that.” Nanami faces betrayal from his warning, his hips snapping against your own. “Just take it nice ‘nd eas–shit! Oh Honey, you feel so…so…fuck, that’s so good!”

“Kennnn! Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You hysterically sob in his ear. It’s all for good reason as those ominous white stars begin to freckle your vision. The knot hasn’t even pulled taut shattered and yet you’re already a victim to its claim. The mind-altering high that rips you out of your body for nothing short of a few seconds.

“Hold it, you can’t yet, Sweetheart, not—”

Sending your grip to sink into the twitching muscle of his biceps, you whimpered out against Nanami’s wishes. “I can’t, Kento! It’s too much!” You knew all too well what was coming and as much as Nanami claims to know as well, he simply couldn’t have you reeling off something so mundane as humping. 

“Please Honey, hold it. Just a little—”

“Fuck! ‘m cumming!” 

The perilous yelp echoes around the room as the pure state of bliss paints itself white in your mind. All that pressure, the tensions, it all slips away from you through the harsh arch your spine fights beneath Nanami.

It’s futile to try and stop the inevitable, and the bliss that comes with surrender is all the more peaceful. When your body tingles with the aftershocks, your mind hazy from the stress and woes of the day, all of the negative can’t survive when a high like that comes crashing hard and heavy. 

Exhaustion houses itself in your body, accompanying weakness and the giddy smiles that you can’t hold back–until your body feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

“That…whew, that was so—Kento?”

Your spotty sights focus upon falling onto Nanami’s silhouette, his towering form resting back on his haunches. His hand’s fallen between your bodies, a loose fist drumming against your skin. He’s pummeling his cock beneath harsh strokes, forcing abstract thick ropes of white to dance along your puffy lips. 

“Ken, Baby?” You call out cautiously as his body collapses over yours. “It’s okay,”  we can call it an early night–”

“I can’t leave you unsatisfied, it was pathetic of me to let go right now,” He huffs,  We’ve got our routine—gonna fill this pretty pussy so fucking full just so I can clean you up. And I have to tell you something.”

Your eyes soften over Nanami, desperately watching as the man seeks redemption. He isn’t one to be a sore loser, but when it comes to you—he’ll work until he breaks just to know that he was behind your euphoria. 

All resolutions point to you supplying his motive with undying support, especially when your digits reach to strum at the sparse blond hairs along the nape of his neck. “Go ahead, tell me Ken.”

A wicked grin stretches onto Nanami’s features, only to hide behind a kiss within the valley of your breasts.

“Oh, I love you so much, Baby. Can’t wait to give all my love to the prettiest girl!”

[letsyapthenightaway]

The Hockey Boys when you are sick!

Matt Rempe: Panics for a second but knows what to do. Would miss practice to take care of you, or have someone close to you check in. He said he likes crackers, so I'm going to say he knows exactly which ones are going to help with your tummy. It gives me the vibe that he will blow on the soup and then feed it to you; he would steal some from you. Laughs when you scold him about him being able to get sick from sharing the same spoon. Would be so soft! like bundle you up in a blanket and keep you either on the couch or bed. Steals kisses, not worried about getting sick.

Luke Hughes: Panicked! His girl is sick, and he knows how to handle it a little, but because he is nervous, he doesn't do it the best at first. Rushes around the apartment trying to find the medicine, make soup, and call his mom asking for advice. He would nervously watch you try the soup; it doesn't matter if he made it, if it was from a can, or if it was from a shop. He wants to make sure you like it and are comfortable. Always check in on you and ask if you are okay, like 20 times in 10 minutes. Watches you with soft eyes; you can tell poor bud wants a smooch, but he knows you will say no. Smiles so bright when you are feeling better and finally give him one. He won't fully get sick after taking care of you, but he would get some sniffles.

Jack Hughes- He is sick with you; you probably got sick because of him. So both of you are just in bed feeling bad; if you do not cuddle him, he is whining. Would talk your ear off even if he has a sore throat. Your nausea causes him to get nausea. Very chaotic, but will feel bad and try his best to take care of you even if you tell him to rest. At first, it's pouting the day away, but then it's snuggles and old comforting movies. Would worry a little about hockey but sees this as him getting to spend time with his girl even if they both aren't at their best.

Quinn Hughes takes care of you and doesn't get sick while doing so. Is so reasurring that you shouldn't be embarrassed for having sniffles, nausea, or whatever. Honestly, I might enjoy you being sick a little too much. I like to claim that you are at least a little to a lot more chaotic than Quinn. So the apartment is very much calmer than usual. He would feed you soup and, just to add a little joke, would do the airplane thing at least once. Worries like crazy if you get a sudden fever. You know how you watch a baby to make sure they are breathing out of paranoia? He does that to you once that fever hits.

Connar Bedard- I love Connor, but he would NOT want to get sick. Loves and takes care of you from a distance. I'm going to put the soup at the door. Do you think you can grab it? Feels bad, but he cannot be out of his game! The moment he sneezes or gets a sniffle, he is feeding you both medicine. He really does wish for cuddles, and it tempted him! His girl is sick and wants to be there for her, and he will...from that distance. If he does get sick, he will try to play it cool, sick? Don't know him. Until he is being forced by you, who is already healthy again or still sick, to lay down and rest. At least now he doesn't need to fight the urge to cuddle. Will 100% whine and complain about missing practice or games.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

i wish you’d write a threesome with aemond, reader, and someone else of your choosing! 🖤

Here you are, my love, a tidbit for you...

"If he tries to take you, you must not resist."

The statement catches her off guard as she lies next to her husband in his bed, keeping to his unburned side, knowing it will cause him the least discomfort.

When Aegon had first taken to his sickbed, a mess of melted flesh and broken bones, she had wept, not knowing if he would ever be whole again. For six long months she had kept vigil by his bedside, watching anxiously as Maester Orwyle had worked fastidiously to make him well. He slept nine hours out of every ten, and when he was lucid he simply moaned in pain and begged for his next draught of poppy milk.

It is only in recent weeks that he is well enough to rise from his bed with assistance, though he cannot walk far. He can now hold a conversation without gasping for breath, addled by pain. Even his voracity has returned, to a degree. He is under strict instructions to not attempt to lay with his wife, however, it has not prevented him from commanding her to lay beside him on the bed as he brings her to peak on his fingers.

"Who?" She asks softly, brow furrowing in concern, as she softly strokes his forehead. A subtle way to check that his words are not feverish ramblings.

"Aemond," he replies simply. "He covets my crown, at the cost of my life. I expect he will want all that goes with it, my Queen included."

She swallows thickly. She had long suspected foul play had been behind Aemond's sudden rise to the position of Prince Regent, however, it is the first she has heard it spoken aloud. However, in the midst of war she is certain that laying claim to her will be the last thing on his mind.

"I'm sure your brother has more pressing matters to attend to, my love," she reassures him.

"I mean it," he says, voice strained and fraught with emotion. "Give him what he wants. I will gladly share you if it spares your life."

It not two weeks later that she sits straddling Aegon's face, a knee either side of his head on the pillow as he laps greedily at her sticky core, the throbbing sensation making it almost impossible to keep her hips still as she grips the headboard with such force it turns her knuckles white.

She is tentative in how she positions herself, careful in her movements, not wishing to hurt him. If it were up to her, they would not be doing this at all in the first place, however, he had been insistent in his demands.

"If I do not get a taste of your cunt soon, I fear I shall go mad. Have mercy on a cripple."

She had giggled at his brashness and finally relented, and is glad she had. The art of pleasure is something that even more than half a year spent infirm could not make Aegon forget.

The doors to the bed chamber burst open, robbing her of the sweet oblivion she had teetered upon the edge of and making her startle. She gasps as Aemond announces his presence, sweeping into the room as he throws the doors closed behind him.

She desperately tries to scramble away from Aegon, to make herself look presentable, but he holds firm to her thighs, keeping her precisely where she is.

Her skin burns hot with humiliation as Aemond slowly advances towards the bedside, clearly unbothered by the spectacle he has walked in on. He looms over the bed side, looking down at her as she gazes back up, eyes wide and fearful.

"It appears to me," he tells her softly, "that my brother has not made available to me all of the resources necessary for me to rule the Kingdom in his stead."

Her eyes drop to where his fingers now work open the lacings of his trousers, her heart thudding at the sight, mind racing with the possibilities of what he means to do.

"I require the services of the Queen," he continues, "and I expect her to be forthcoming."

Her throat runs dry as he frees himself, the tip of his erection already glistening with arousal.

Aemond reaches out, his fingers sinking into her hair as he cups the back of her head, pulling her forward, the head of him pressing against her lips.

"Is that understood?"

She hesitates, and feels Aegon give her thighs an encouraging squeeze.

"If he tries to take you, you must not resist." The words echo in her mind, and she parts her lips, allowing him to push forward into her mouth.

The taste of him upon her tongue is sharp and unfamiliar, though not unpleasant. And as she feels her husband's tongue begin to lap at her folds once more, while his brother thrusts slowly into her throat, she decides that in war they must all make sacrifices, and that if her body is to be forfeit then she will gladly yield.

[russellsppttemplates]

She fits right in (Oscar Piastri)

You meet Oscar's family back home

Note: english is not my first language. I know I said write based on the order you send them in, but this one got priority for obvious reasons! 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"How long is the layover?", you asked Oscar as you put your backpack on properly once you took off your cardigan since you felt quite hot, "three hours", he replied, "we can go to the lounge and have some food first, freshen up", he suggested.

"Uuuuhh, freshening up in a public bathroom before I meet your parents in your childhood home, charming - you didn't have to make it so easy for me, Osc", you offered, going up to him so he could lace your hand in his and guide you through the airport.

Even you though you had travelled to see a couple of races from the garage, you had always kept inside Europe so long hail flights like this weren't something you were used to. You felt tired, sweaty, a little bit dirty from touching things everywhere and overall not that great. Still, it was a privilege to feel like this because of the reasons you did.

You found yourselves a table and made your order, Oscar staying there while you freshened up in the bathroom. Baby wipes, deodorant, brushing your teeth and washing your face would have to do for now.

"Do you feel a little more human?", he asked you once you sat back down, kissing his cheek soflty as he forwarded you your iced latte.

"Yes, actually I do", you snickered, taking a sip before speaking again, "are you sure your parents are fine with this whole arrangement?", you wondered.

"They're fine with it, you shouldn't be nervous, they already like you", he reassured. You had met his parents briefly when they travelled to see him race in Silverstone, but with the whole event taking up the schedule, you got to know eachother on a somewhat superficial level. Still, if the first impression was that good, it was a nice start.

"I'm not nervous nervous - at least not in the way I think I'd be, but is probably the jet lag and my body can't afford to have a freak out right now", you joked.

The last flight was spent with you sleeping on Oscar, arm rest up while you were cuddled up to his side, head nuzzled on his neck while he watched something to keep himself entertained and not get lost on his thoughts.

His family's opinion mattered to him and he was nervous to truly hear it. Not because of you - he was sure you were going to do brilliantly, but it wouldn't be the first time in history where seeing things up close, whether it was the lifestyle associated or being faced with what staying in a relationship looked like in the long run, made people leave. His parents had met your briefly before and now you were being introduced to everyone else. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, the neighbour he knew growing up. Everyone's eyes would be on you, and so would their opinions.

Rubbing your cheek softly, Oscar coaxed you out of sleep, "we're about to land, gorgeous, you might want to pop your ears", he muttered as you blinked your eyes open, kissing his palm before sitting up straight, doing as he told you before you fixed your hair, "do I look nice enough?", you wondered.

"You always look gorgeous", he assured, kissing your cheek softly.

You boarded off the plane and walked to the customs service, "they're quite quick at this time of year since a lot of people travel foe the race", Oscar explained as you were quickly checked before you walked to baggage claim, getting your suitcases and stopping twice to take photos Oscar's fans asked once they noticed it was him, "we're counting on a good race for you!", they wished as you smiled, handing them the phone back and waving once you walked to the spot Chris said him and Nicole would be waiting for you in the parking lot.

"How was your flight, dears?", Nicole was the first to speak as she embraced her son, followed by Chris.

"It was good, didn't have much turbulence", Oscar said as he saw your mother engulf you in a hug.

"It was nice, yes", you smiled, "very tiring getting to the land down under, I have to admit", you chuckled.

"Oh, that it is! Last time we did it, I felt so dirty I immediately went to the bathroom to shower once we got home", she giggled.

"I might actually do that, if you don't mind - my whole body just feels icky", you admitted, knowing you had arrived at early hours in the morning already and you shouldn't make much noise to the people who wanted to sleep.

"Of course it's fine! C'mon, let's pack the car and head home!", Chris encouraged you as he put the luggage on the car trunk while you got inside the car.

By the time you got home, Nicole encouraged you to head straight for the shower you so much needed while Oscar got something to eat. When you exited the ensuite bathroom, your boyfriend was unpacking his own suitcase.

"If you don't mind, I'll unpack those tomorrow? Or in the morning? What time is it already?", you muttered as he had closed the blinds, leaving the room completely dark with only the bedside lamp on.

"It's fine, love", he smiled, kissing the top of your head, "you smell nice", he chuckled, squeezing your waist softly before he went to have a shower.

Maybe it wasn't the most polite, but this was going to be your room for the next couple of days considering you had flown in early so Oscar could spend as much time as he could with his family, so you undid the bed. The fresh sheets enveloped you as you tied your hair in a messy bun just to get it away from your eyes.

The last thing you remember coherently is Oscar laying next to you, pulling you to cuddle up to him and kissing your forehead sweetly with a "Goodnight, my love".

You woke up a few hours later, looking at your watch and see that it was already past midday and you were in bed, "morning", you heard Oscar's groggy morning voice whisper into your back, littering kisses on your shoulders.

"Hey", you smiled, turning around and seeing his handsome smiley face, "it's the afternoon already", you pointed out.

"It usually is when I wake up after coming back home", he shrugged his shoulders, "my parents are used to it. Also, they said they'd be having lunch at my grandma's, so they're not home - it's probably why it's so quiet".

"Do they want us to meet them there?", you wondered, not wanting to part your boyfriend from his family.

"We can if you don't mind", he added, "you could meet my grandma, too!", he tried to see if you felt comfortable with it.

"Yes! Let me just get ready quickly!", you smiled, pecking his lips and leaving the bed.

"Why so excited?", Oscar asked as you were leaving his parents' house after having something quick to eat and you got your latte.

"You have told me many stories from your grandma and grandma's house is always the best!", you winked at him before you wiggled your brows.

"What do you mean it's always the best?", he quirked a brow.

"Grandma's are the ones who have the best photo collections in the family - C'mon Oscar, it's going to be so fun!", you joined your hands together in a cartoon villain like way, fingertips touching as you made a mischief expression.

"Did Lando set you up for this?", Oscar said as he unlocked the car.

"Yes! The more I get, the more Quadrant hoodies he says he'll get me!", you winked, pulling his arm to the car so he could drive you both to his grandparents' house.

"Can we come in?", Oscar announced as you both walked in through the back door, seeing his parents sat at the table while an older lady was doing something at the kitchen counter.

"Oscar, my love!", she yelled, wiping her hands on the nearest kitchen towell before she threw herself at her grandson, hugging him tightly while you greeted Oscar's parents briefly.

"And this is the young woman who stole Oscar's heart, how are you, sweetheart? You're very welcomed here!", she said, pulling you in for a tight hug immediately.

"I'm Y/N, thank you for welcoming me into your home, it's beautiful", you smiled warmly.

"Have you two had something to eat? I can make you something quickly if you'd like!", she asked and you both shook your head, "I'm good, but thank you".

"I was actually getting ready to make some Lamingtons and some Rum Balls, too. Y/N, has Oscar ever baked them for you?", she mused.

"No, I don't think he has", you looked at him for confirmation as he shook his head, blush erupting on his cheeks, "I would never make them as good as yours!", he defended himself.

"Well, darling, I'm going to make some for you too then!", she smiled.

"I'd love to help if you want a hand, maybe then I'll pester Oscar to make them for me back home", you smiled.

"Oh, good! Let's get started then!", she exclaimed, getting you an apron and guiding you through the recipe.

"You can beat these while I measure the flower", she delegated, "it has to be very fluffy so the sponge is firm enough", she advised as you beat the contents inside the bowl.

"How is that going?", Oscar asked coming up from behind you as you were transferring the batter to the lined tin.

"I need to use the bathroom, dear, but when you finish that, can you put it in the oven and take the other one, please?", she questioned, "this way we'll have a new batch to work with everytime", she smiled before excusing herself.

"How is she really doing with you?", your boyfriend waited for a honest answer.

"It's been really fun, truly! She's been telling me stories about when she was younger and what growing up here was like, she fed me some of those things, those rolled up things", you pointed at the plate on the counter.

"Those are rum balls! Love, you don't even like rum!", he pinched your cheek before you out the tray in the oven.

"I wasn't going to break her heart and tell her no, and they're not that bad! Just not my favourite things ever!", you reasoned with him, wiping your hands on the kitchen towell, "but it's been good, she's very lovely - and I am this close at getting to your baby stories", you pinched your thumb and poster finger together.

"You're impossible", he chuckled, stealing a kiss from your lips before his grandma got back.

"She's a lovely girl, Oscar", his mother said as she sat down next to him on the chair on the decking outside as they saw his father gather the supplies for a barbecue. His grandmother suggested and afternoon barbecue for when you were done with baking.

"I'm very happy I brought her home to meet everyone", Oscar smiled, "she's really one of a kind".

"Is she dealing well with all of this? I'm sure she's not used to it", Nicole wondered, "people taking pictures, interrupting your day to day lives, you're not always there for her", she trailed off.

"Well, neither am I, right?", Oscar chuckled, "I think she's been doing well, we speak about it every now and again to check and make sure we're both well with all of it. We don't post eachother much, that's been helpful, and she has all her social media private".

"It's nice, she's an incredible young woman, and you two are so great together", Nicole complimented.

"I think I was more nervous to come out here than her, to be honest", Oscar said, prompting his mother to raise her eyebrows, "not because of her! I was nervous because she's the first person I've brought home - like, home home - and I didn't know how you would react with her being here and everything. It's not like it's a dinner and she can run away or leave for her own place if she feels uncomfortable or if you guys didn't like her", he trailed off the last part.

His family's opinion mattered to him, and as romantic as it often sounded in movies, he wasn't sure how he would proceed if his family strongly felt against your relationship.

"Well, on our end, we're fine", his mother nudged his shoulder, "she's so lovely, Oscar, you would be a fool if you let her get away from you. She's smart, caring, loving - she fits quite well with grandma", she pointed to you two with her eyes as the older lady taught you how to dip the cake in the chocolate and then the coconut, laughing together as you seemed to get more on your hands than on the actual sweet food, "she loves you dearly, I can tell. Of course we approve. But, if she wants to make a run for it, well - that's going to be a little bit tricky at the very least", she joked as she saw her mother help you with a kitchen towell, "though that doesn't look like it's going to be anytime soon".

You fit right in with his family and he couldn't be happier.

[boyfhee]

﹙𝓲ssue﹚ㅤ:ㅤboyfriend headcanonsㅤ...ㅤ( 니키 )

ㅤㅤ﹙1190﹚ ㅤ장르 fluff, est. rel, troublemaker!riki, sort of golden retriver x black cat tropeㅤㅤwarnings kissingㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ thank u to ri for helping me with this i love u iNDEX requested ps it's my first time writing this golden retriever and black cat thing i hope i did well ><

he'd be annoying— affectionately, of course, while also claiming to be the sweetest and nicest boyfriend you could ever have, which is true.

ruffles your hair just whenever. he likes to see your brows furrowed, lips in a frown. you think you look oh so mad however, all he sees is his cute and adorable girlfriend.

wants your attention so bad ! you'd be on a call and he would poke your cheeks, wanting you to focus on him. if you two are out and you bump into a friend, he'll be holding your hand and fiddling with your fingers. down the hallways between classes, catch him pecking your cheeks quickly and walking away as if nothing happened.

would wake you up with tickles, it mostly escalates into a tickle fight. with limbs tangled and you pushing him away while he's adamant on winning— often distracts you with kisses and it works every single time.

and the silly pranks he pulls on your define your relationship !

whether it's scaring you from behind or texting you from another room in a tone that alerts all your senses and when you actually go to check up on him, he's on his bed laughing, asking you to turn off the lights, maybe.

definitely ends up eating your snacks ... he is not holding himself back when those delicacies are in the fridge begging him to devour them TT

“ki,” you'd call his name with a serious and heavy tone, looking at the empty box in your hand. “you ate my cookies again.”

and he would shake his head in denial, giving you an innocent look, lying ever so efficiently. “no, i did not. you ate them, remember? last night, when you wanted snacks,”

“stop gaslighting me,”

however, he would buy more of those snacks for you, along with others that you like. you refuse to share out of spite, but how can you ignore him when he gives you one of his pouts and cute smiles ... even though they morph into a mischievous smirk when you agree to share.

would dodge your kisses and point and laugh at your face. at times, he would just stand up, taking advantage of his height and challenge you to kiss him.

sometimes, you avoid his kisses as a pay back and he just deadpans before cupping your cheeks and kissing you so you can't avoid them or look away anymore ㅠㅠ

0.5 selfies and pics are your thing. he takes at least one such photo of you on dates and adds it to his 'favourites' album which has almost every single pic of you in his phone.

by the way, he has a private album with pictures of you sleeping. only because you look so cute in your sleep and sometimes make faces, and also because you end up snuggling into him and he can't help but take a picture to tease you later.

your relationship is mostly you two goofing around a lot, sometimes chasing each other around the house when he takes an embarrassing picture of you and runs away with the phone, or down the street when you two are returning from a little ice cream date and he takes a bite from your popsicle.

loves to scare you while you two are watching horror movies, and then would get offended when you slap his arm in return.

and when you end up falling asleep on his shoulder during movies, he simply tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you fondly with a smile before pulling you closer.

“i like that i'm the only one who gets you see you like this.”

[tokoyamisstuff]

Sweet Tooth

Homelander x GN! Reader

Summary: Homelander is a regular customer at your little coffeeshop, visiting anytime he craves something sweet - you, in particular. Warnings: Canon-typical violence, cussing, HL is horny and also a douche Words: 1,575

"Seriously, Y/N? Who the fuck drinks a milkshake at 8am?"

Ah, there he is. You almost got worried because he ran late today.

"What are you, five? Grow the fuck up." That said, the gruff man in front of you pulled out a few loose dollar bills, cheekily slamming them on the counter. "One for me too, please."

You smirk, putting the cup down after slurping it in one go. Ouch, brainfreeze. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

That's what he likes most about you: Finally someone that can take a fucking joke. People he usually surrounds himself with are either afraid of him, or got a damn stick up their asses.

Communication wasn't really his forte without someone dictating the lines he'd have to say. But with you it came refreshingly easy, that back and forth was so enjoyable that he almost felt human.

"Coming right away" you chant, already busying yourself with the ingredients. "With how often you're ordering this drink, I should name it after you."

Homelander snorts at the well-deserved mockery, unable to keep his mouth shut since you look so adorable when irritated. "As you should, considering I basically fund this place."

"Hey!" you put a warning finger in the air, lighthearted voice earnest now. "I can tolerate a lot, but that's no joking matter."

Okay, the location you were able to afford was neither central nor in a remotely good part of the town. It was so small that there was only space for two tables, and the interior honestly decaying.

But at least it was honest work, and you did the best you could.

"With the new Starbucks across the street I'm basically bancrupt." Oh godfuckingdamnit, he fucked up. Homelander here to unwind, and certainly not to listen to you whining about your insignificant little life.

Maybe Vought should send you a check, though - losing this spot would be annoying.

Initially Homelander came to your café out of sheer coincidence, wanting to calm his nerves after his first encounter with Sister Sage. He took a longer stroll through some shady alleyways, hoping to run into some lowlife to rip apart...

...instead, he found you. A pathetic excuse of business and surely not even remotely close to achieving the American Dream, but whatever.

John had found himself entranced with the cheesy decoration, a desperate attempt to make a place like this feel cozy. He secretly admired people with the ability to make anywhere feel like home.

Well, the menu looked good enough that he decided to treat himself with something sweet as matter of exception - and now it had become part of his daily routine.

Things had just settled like this, with you offering him your sincere company while he'd cryptically vent about anything on his mind.

"Here: For my favourite customer!" you cheered proudly as you presented him the shake. "Made with extra love."

"Secret ingredient, huh? You're just nice to get an extra tip" he tries to hide the insecurity behind a sassy remark, but you instantly parry his claim. "What, why, because you're so generous? Nonsense. You're just lucky you're so cute."

It was no lie, really. John had a rough shell and wore his heart on his tongue, but you appreciated his honesty and the good conversations you shared.

As you were rummaging in the kitchen counter, he couldn't help but notice how you turn down the radio despite continuing to hum the song it was playing. He once told you about having misophonia, and how much he hates modern pop music. You actually listen to him, consider his feelings unlike the imbeciles he's used to.

"Woah, maybe tune it down with the sugar, darling" he thought aloud as you poured yourself a coffe. Damn, he needs to save himself after this one - but the only thing he comes up with sounded more like a backhanded compliment at max. "You're already sweet enough, don't ya think?"

"Charming as always, I see." Your face contorts into a mixture of confusion and amusement at his words, and feeling bold you turn around, giving a provocating slap to your own ass. "As long as the fat goes into the right places."

John bites his bottom lip at the sight of your tight leggings framing your curves too well. Yeah, that'd be a great place to dig his fingers into. Some cushion wouldn't bruise or make you whine if he'd become a little rougher. Shit, his pants feel awfully tight right now.

"You're staring." Seeing him being the flustered one for a change sure was a great feeling, considering that he was very aware of his own good looks. So you decide to get him off the high horse, playfully poking his soft belly. "Also, you're one to talk."

Homelander shifts on the barstool, closing his legs so you wouldn't notice his cock twitching in anticipation at the sudden proximity. God knows how often he had daydreamed about slamming you onto the next best surface and fucking you stupid.

"You really shouldn't be mean to someone that could spit in your drink." He smirks, a predatory glint in his eyes as he leaned forwards until his unfairly handsome face was just inches from yours. "Joke's on you - I'd savour every last drop."

The audacity. You physically fight rolling your eyes at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting. "Sometimes I think you're the most obnoxious person in the world, John."

Liar, he thinks to himself.

Nothing is hidden from his abilities, neither your raised bloodpressure nor the scent of the wet spot forming between your legs. He prided himself on that fact. And yet you stand there all taken aback, trying to play coy. Cute.

Well, it wasn't as if you had no interest in him. He's been coming here for weeks and you're still working up the courage to at least give him your number - but he was so incredibly out of your fucking league that you never considered actually going through with it.

Homelander on the other hand decided he had let the opportunity slip for way too long already. Except for both of you the shop was empty as always, and even if it wasn't he wouldn't care. Hell, he'd already imagined what it would be like pounding you naked against the display window to show every passenger who you'd belong to from now on.

"John, I-"

"Shh" he hushed you, his silencing finger lingering on your lips. You pulled away, just to be caught by a firm hand on the back of your neck. "Tell me if I should stop - but we both know what you want me to do to you."

Oh, he's insufferable.

Honestly, you should just slap him and tell him to go fuck himself - but a primal need had already shut down the rational part of your brain. "Damnit John, will you kiss me now or do I need to fuck that shiteating grin out of your face?"

Shit, what's not to love about you?

"Hands up in the air you two shitheads, this is a robbery!"

Un-fucking-believable.

While you immediately went into panic mode, seeing a weapon up close for the first time in your whole life, John nonchalantly leaned against the counter, an aggravated groan escaping his throat. "Dude, worst fucking timing."

"John, don't provoke him-" He threw a hand up in the air, signalizing you to be quiet. "Stay behind and let me handle this, sweetheart."

You nod quietly, John shielding you with his body as you shakily paced behind the counter. A shot was fired and you shrieked at the sound, apparently the criminal wasn't exactly patient or he just didn't like your customer's tone.

"John! God John, are you alri-" Your words got caught in your throat as you saw the shell fall to the ground. Must be the adrenaline clouding your view, but there seemed to be not a scratch on his body. He winks cockily at you before turning around, using the lasers in his eyes to make a quick end to this before you'd involuntarily get caught into the crossfire.

"So, is the drink on the house or what?" The hero jokes unfazed after just having spread literal brain matter on your tiles.

You were still trembling when he squatted in front of your cowering self, reassuringly patting your back. This shit is like second nature to him, and sadly the little empathy he possessed had dulled over time. "I told you to stay down, silly."

As soon as you've calmed down to a certain extend, you pulled your savior's baseball cap from his head, revealing disheveled blonde hair.

"Are you the fucking Homelander?!"

"Can't deny that after what you've just witnessed" he answers truthfully, offering you a hand to get up. "Took you long enough to figure out, though."

Your strained pants turned into hysterical laughter, probably due to the shock. "I-I honestly have no words."

That means he wins today's banter, he jubilates internally. You could've been a little more thrilled about the reveal of his identity, though - but hey, you can show him your gratitude later on.

"Thank you, I guess." You finally release the breath you were holding, tension leaving your body as you collapsed into his arms. Police sirens could already be heard fast approaching. "I- could you please bring me home after the investigation is over?"

"Sure" he tries to hide his excitement, cradling your exhausted self against his chest. "If you don't mind, I'll take you to go."

[jadeiteee]

Sweet Nothings

Pairing/s : Daniel Ricciardo x Max Verstappen x reader

Face claim : non face from pinterest

Summary : I thought you were suppose to be professional??

Warnings : dark!max, dark!daniel, smut, pet names, noncon elements, will be added as the series go

Author’s notes : my hand was too itchy to post so here is a prologue to the mob!maxiel series

It was an unwritten rule- never ever get entangled with the clients. But what were you supposed to do when they reel you in with those sweet nothings? After all, humans have been defying the rules since the beginning.

It was just business, or at least that's what you tried to convince yourself—they stormed in like a whirlwind, sweeping away anything that dared to defy them.

It all started at the nightclub, nestled within the bustling nightlife of Monaco. It was just your average day of work, you arrived at the club 45 minutes before your shift, changing into your “work” clothes and applying your makeup, and stepping onto the stage. The lights were dim, the music was sensual, and the crowd was a sea of eager faces, some familiar, others new.

You were used to the attention, the admiring gazes, and the occasional conflicts among lovers. It was all part of the job. But that one regular night, everything changed. You have just performed your set, returning backstage, waiting for everyone to perform their part to check whether someone booked a private show.

You were just chatting with your fellow dancers, sharing a few laughs and swapping stories from the night's performances when the manager's voice cut through the lively chatter. Her announcement grabbed everyone's 

attention, casting a sudden hush over the room.

"37," you repeated under your breath, scanning the room numbers posted along the corridor. You took a deep breath and put on a smile before opening the door and gliding through the room. 

As you opened the door, you saw two men seated comfortably on the sofa, their gazes immediately drawn to you as you entered. The room was softly lit, casting a warm glow that accentuated their features. 

You could feel their eyes checking you out, their expressions unreadable. You walked towards them and decided to sit on the one with blue eyes’ lap. 

“Am Y/n” you murmured seductively, a smile playing on your lips as you pulled lightly on his tie, toying with it. His gaze locked onto yours, his expression stoic and unreadable as ever.

“Max.” He replied, his voice low and hoarse, sending a shiver down your spine. His hands gently settled on your hips. “Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

You gasped as the other guy lifted you onto his lap. "Just ignore him, princess, he is a bit of a stone" he grinned, his left hand steadying you. "I'm Daniel, it’s a pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady like you." He kissed your hand delicately, his eyes locking with yours, as your heart raced with anticipation.

Goodluck.

[alotofpockets]

Reunited on the field | Alessia Russo

Pairing: Alessia Russo x Reader

Prompts: "If there is nothing going on between you two, you don't mind if I ask them on a date, do you?" & "I think I'm in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me."

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 1.2k

Since you left college you have played in the United States of America for both club and country. Your transfer to Arsenal was going to be a big change for you with the move to a different continent but you were excited for this opportunity. Luckily there were some familiar faces on the team that you knew would take you under their wing. Both Lotte and Alessia had been your teammates at college, you stayed in contact with most of the Tar Heels girls over the years, and were excited to be sharing the field with them once again. 

Your assumption of your UNC teammates taking you under their wing couldn’t have been more true. You fell back into the close friendship you had with the both of them almost immediately. They showed you around London, introduced you to the rest of the team, and made sure you felt at home at Arsenal. The first month at your new club consisted primarily of training. You were getting to know the team that had welcomed you with open arms better and better. The team had taken you in as their own right away.

Today was another day of training, and you were running drills with a couple of the girls while the rest was still stretching. Unbeknownst to you Lotte was questioning Alessia on the other side of the field, “So, Lessi, how’s the crush on y/n going?” Alessia shoved her friend's shoulder, “Come one, Lotte, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t have a crush on her anymore?” Lotte laughed, and ran off to join in on the drills.

A few days later you’re at the gym, getting a workout in with the team. You’re about to bench press and look around for someone to spot you, when you see Alessia had just finished one of her own sets. “Hey Less, could you spot me real quick?” The blond moves your way, “Wait, are you going for a new PR?” Alessia says checking out the weights you put on the bar. “Yes, I am, trying for one at least.” She gets ready by standing behind the bench, while you lay down, mentally preparing yourself. “Come on, you’ve got this.” Alessia encourages you, as you reach for the bar and lower it. You start lifting the bar, pushing with all the strength that you’ve got. “Almost, come on. Push, you’ve got it.” Her words push you along, and you’re able to do the full lift. Alessia helps you put the weight back on the rack. You jump up and give her a hug, “Thank you Less, couldn’t have done it without you!” With a kick peck to her cheek, you walk off to tell the trainers about your new PR, leaving Alessia frozen in place.

“Oi, what’s wrong with Russo?” Katie asks Lotte who is actively laughing at Alessia's reaction. “She has had the biggest crush on y/l/n since college and she just kissed her cheek.” Katie smirks at this new information. “And she never acted on it?” Lotte shakes her head. “She claims she hasn’t had a crush on her since she left college but you saw her reaction, proving she’s lying.” The girls both laugh. 

Katie decides to join Lotte in teasing Alessia about her crush and walks up to her teammate. “Hey, Russo, a little birdy told me you have a little crush on our newbie.” Alessia sends Lotte a quick glare, who just smiles back. “Not you too Macca, I do not have a crush on her” The striker did not like the smile that appeared on Katie’s face. "If there is nothing going on between you two, you don't mind if I ask her on a date, do you?" Alessia’s eyes widened, “Don’t you dare.” Katie laughs, “Cool, point proven. You’ve got to tell y/n, Russo, what do you have to lose?” You pop up beside them, “Tell me what?” Alessia’s face turns a dark shade of red, while Katie and Lotte break out in laughter. You’re a bit confused by the laughter, but you decide to put your focus on Alessia. You take her hand and lead her out of the gym, away from the laughing that seemed to make her more uncomfortable.

“What’s going on, Less? Is everything alright?” You ask once you have made your way outside. She was quiet for a moment, before she just started rambling. “I like you, y/n. Like not as friends, though I like you as a friend too of course. I like you for real, and I have since college. I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time and I know that is stupid because we’ve been apart for a couple of years but I still do. And Katie just joked about asking you out, I think she was joking but I know that I need to share this with you because someone will come and make you fall in love with them and then I will lose my shot.” She takes a deep breath before continuing, not leaving room for you to respond just yet. “Actually, to be totally honest, I think I'm in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me. You are such a good friend, and we are teammates of course. I don’t want to lose the connection that we have, and..” That’s when you put your hands on her shoulders and stop her. “Hey Less, look at me, please.” Her eyes nervously meet yours. She was met with eyes filled with adoration. “I feel the same way. I had a crush on you in college, and I thought that I had moved on from it when we graduated but none of my relationships ever felt right. It didn’t click until I saw you here on my first day at Arsenal, I have been in love with you since our college years too, Less.” 

Alessia’s smile grew wider the longer you spoke, until finally you were done with your sentence and she crashed her lips onto yours. It was an eager kiss at first, both having wanted to kiss the other for such a long time but the kiss quickly turned softer, wanting this long awaited moment last. When you pulled away from the kiss, cheers and whistles were heard from the entrance of the gym, you looked over your shoulder to see a group of Arsenal girls had formed in front of the door. You roll your eyes at them, before taking Alessia’s hand and heading back to the gym. The girls started patting the both of you on the back, “Seriously?” You laugh at their antics. 

During the rest of your gym session you keep letting your eyes trail over to Alessia, smiling when your eyes meet hers. Your cheeks warm at the thought of her lips on yours, luckily your cheeks were already red from training, otherwise the team would for sure tease you for it. Not that you would really mind the teasing though, you were just happy to finally have your feelings for Alessia out in the open and reciprocated, and couldn’t wait to get out of training. 

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[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

Okay so in the same vein as this post, I want to reality check the people who keep asking (yes I've been this person too, don't @ me) why oh why are Jews the only group leftists are willing to categorically deny self-determination to, and the reason is that most of them are tits deep in Christian supercessionism and don't even know it and have absolutely no desire to change that.

The reason they deny self-determination to Jews is the same reason that they would deny any claim to self-determination of, say, Mormons. If the Mormon church tried to claim Utah because it's the epicenter and birthplace of Mormonism [Edit: apparently the birthplace of Mormonism is western New York and not Utah whoops, but the point stands] and therefore they may as well have an indigenous claim to it, people with brains would rightfully lose their shit.

"But it's a culture too, not just a religion!"

So? Have you met any Mormons and spent time with them? They have their own culture.

"Okay but Jews are an ancient people!"

Please look at the batshit Mormon theological view of the Twelve Tribes and their attitudes towards Native Americans.

"Okay but our history is real!" Yep! These people don't know the first thing about Judaism and Jewish history and don't care.

The reality is that most westerners are hellbent on ignoring Jewish history and ethnoreligious identity because literally all of western civilization is built on Christian supercessionism. Even the people who leave Christianity and hate it (and "all religions") with a violent passion still refuse to engage in learning about Jewish cultural and ethnic history because you cannot do it without engaging the history and texts that they blame as the roots of Christianity and therefore they discredit all of it out of hand.

Obviously they're super fucking wrong about this. You, my fellow yid, and I, both know that. But unraveling the supercessionism means understanding their culpability in Jewish suffering and how they benefit from institutionalized antisemitism.

They are extremely unlikely to do that.

Why? Because if they unlearn Judaism as "just a religion" &/or "Christianity without Jesus" and begin to understand it as an indigenous Levantine group, they then have to reckon with the reality of how much Christianity has stolen from Jews and how much of their hatred for Jews is baked into their western goyische psyche by intentional Christian misunderstandings of Judaism.

Am Yisrael cannot to them be a real people with deep tribal roots and a strong culture, because then they would have to separate Judaism from Christianity and question their assumptions about us and our history.

"But Judaism accepts converts!"

Okay, as someone who "converted," I'm going to say no, not really, actually. Conversion is a convenient shorthand, but it's not accurate. Converting to Judaism means a mutually consensual adoption into the Tribe, after thorough vetting, at least a year of study and perseverance but probably more, and the main, primary promise that you make is about choosing to share the collective fate of the Jewish people. Yes, this adoption and naturalization is through the medium of the spiritual/religious aspect of Jewish identity, but it's way more than that. To be a Jew is to know that I might get stabbed on my walk to shul for being visibly Jewish, and to accept that possibility because the idea of not living as a Jew is worse. Gerim have to be ride or die because a serious chunk of Jewish history is on the "die" side of that equation. You have to be just a little bit nuts voluntarily take on that risk (reminder that I say this as a ger who is happily Jewish) and it must come from a place of profound love for and identification with the Jewish people. And once you join the family, that's it. You don't get to ever stop being a member of the family, even if you become estranged from it.

It's a people, with a deep history and culture, and anyone who joins it takes on both. Obviously your genetic makeup and ancestry don't change, but everything else does.

Understanding that major difference in Judaism in a serious way means that they would have to let go of their world view that their religion and culture are separate, that Christianity intentionally divorced faith from culture in order to acquire as many converts as possible, and then begin to understand how Christianity has shaped their understanding of culture, tradition, what religion is, ethics, and values. And they would have to then make an effort to separate their understanding of Judaism and what they think they know about us from Christianity, however they do or don't relate to it.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Yello! I was wondering if you could write a Romantic Yandere Spiderman? Specifically Tasm! Spiderman, please 🙏

I'm thinking of a plot where the reader (gender neutral) has a weird list of goals to accomplish in New York City since they don't live there and are only visiting Peter. Some of their goals include: counting 101 dalmatians and trying at least 20 different kinds of pizzas from each pizza place who claims they "have the BEST pizza!"

Any rivalries and other plot twists are welcome! You can write this either as a one shot, headcanons or a short— take your pick! I don't mind, thank you!

Anon

A/N: This man never fails to give me intense gender envy…I added and tweaked a few things to make him more yandere-ish… I hope you enjoy and that i've done this request some justice! Thanks for requesting 🥰

Warnings: soft yandere but Peter really doesn't want his baby to go. Mentions of kidnapping/holding hostage.

Requests: open

Masterlist

Okay when Peter found out that you were coming to visit him in New York, he could barely contain himself. His darling had been away from him for so long that texting and Skype calls weren't nearly enough to satiate his hunger for you.

Moments like when you left him to go live in a different state/country, made him despise being a poor college kid from Queens. If he had the means, he would've came with you and got a shared apartment where the two of you could live happily together.

To be fair, Peter did try his hardest to make you stay, but was far too kind to ever go to the more extreme measures to assure his success. He couldn't stop you from living your dreams. He couldn't go on if you had any ounce of hatred for him.

I like to think Peter had your visit already planned out in his mind. You were of course going to sight see and have fun, but he mainly wanted to stay snuggled up in his bed with you. He needed to make up for lost time spent not being with you.

So of course you can imagine his disappointment when you came with a crazy list to complete during your stay. His heart breaking as he looked through it only to find not a single space was dedicated to just being alone with him...

It'd be a lie to say he didn't enjoy stuffing his face with weird flavors of pizza and exploring parts of the city he usually doesn't hang around. He of course used his last pennies to pamper you and to treat you to the attractions you wanted to see. Anything to make you smile. It was nice for him to take a break from being spiderman and to just have fun anyways. When you left him, he started wearing the suit nearly every hour of the day when he wasn't chatting with you. It was the only thing that could keep his loneliness in check and kept him from going insane...

but as much as he laughed and enjoyed seeing you just so giddy about checking off each completed thing on the list, he couldn't help but to feel an impending doom looming overhead.

It didn't help hearing you go on and on about your new life and friends in your new area...He kept hearing you repeat one name in particular over, and over and over again...

Peter couldn't help but to feel insecure about it. Everyone else seemed much cooler and interesting to you. Peter was just...some guy. Sure he had the whole spidey thing but crime was petty and rather boring during this time. He had nothing to brag to you about other than the fact he received a free bagel after helping an old woman find her cat.

The closer you got to the end of the list, the closer you were to leaving him again...he couldn't take it....This wasn't enough time with you, Peter barely got to even touch you, take in your scent and love on you before you'd be gone.

The next couple of days, he's a bit distant. He's trapped in his own head. Peter can feel something sick festering inside of him. His thoughts become fully focused on you leaving...and what he could do to stop it.

He's begged you before. On his knees and teary-eyed begging you not to go. He looked the same as he did when he begged his parents for the same thing...but it didn't work. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he got a little more creative.

Harry would say, "demanding people get what they want". Playing dirty is okay when it means you'll be together. No. That's not him. That's not fair to you.

....but you leaving again, isn't fair to him either.

His hands are shaking with anxiety and his face is full of sorrow as he watches you sleep... the sinful thoughts from earlier are itching for him to put them in action....

You're such a sweetheart... Peter can't do this...

A gentle kiss is left on your forehead and he caresses your face before he turns around and goes to sleep...he needs to ignore those thoughts... But you're so perfect....he's going to miss this. It's nice being the only one in your life. He hates the anxiety that you're one day doing to send him a text that you've found someone new or that you need to focus on other things.

.... with his abilities,,,he could prevent that. He could whip up some locks and gadgets to keep you you secured in his shitty apartment. It wouldn't be hard for him subdue you either..

"Stop thinking about that, Pete. Go to sleep. It's wrong."

a beat passes and a long sigh escapes him.

You adjust in your sleep, instinctively curling in to be closer to him. You hazily send him a soft smile, and nuzzle your head into his chest before drifting back off to sleep. Oh, boy. That was enough to make him cave into his overwhelming desires. Peter couldn't wait another year to sleep next to you again.

You'd understand, right? You know that your boyfriend would never harm you. He's not weird. or creepy. or sick.

He just needs you here with him. He's tried to be good for you but this arrangement is far too much for a lover boy to handle.

Hopefully you aren't too mad when you wake up to realize you're tied up in webs. Your doting Peter only wants the best for this relationship. He can take the best care of you. Pete promises that you'll be safe.

[mortalityplays]

This is a very good illustration of the increasing susceptibility to conspiratorial thought patterns I've been seeing on the left lately. Just because you don't believe there are space marines on Mars doesn't mean you're immune to building imaginary connections between aesthetic or emotional data points and mistaking them for evidence. A lot of well meaning people in my circles have been sharing this story, buying uncritically into the first narrative they encountered. I want to break down why:

Jones' twitter thread was extremely emotional and extremely urgent. The idea of a child being ripped away from his frantic mother and a ticking clock to decide his fate both helped the story to bypass analytical scrutiny. It sends the message 'act now, before it's too late, it's the only compassionate thing to do'.

Her connection to an existing conspiracy (a concerted effort by the state to cover up Covid statistics) creates a strengthening association with the idea that this is also a conspiracy. The thread offers no positive evidence that her son's arrest was a conspiracy, and no positive evidence that his arrest has any connection to her prior experiences.

Jones' allegation that the arrest was retribution for her actions as a whistleblower implicitly identifies her in the reader's mind. A lot could be unpacked about her dispute with the DOH but it doesn't really matter because I don't think most people who circulated this story knew much about it either way. The point is that it anchors her identity in a few key concepts: 'whistleblower', 'covid scientist', 'concerned citizen'. None of these qualities are relevant to the events detailed in the thread (or evidenced in the thread, if we're being really rigorous), but they unconsciously prejudice the reader's assessment of whether to trust or side with her. Simply put, if you are concerned about how covid was handled and/or inclined to support whistleblowers, you are more likely to assume she's credible.

If you dislike and distrust cops, you are primed to accept a narrative in which they are doing something straightforwardly evil. Don't get me wrong, fuck 12, but I say that armed with an enormous preponderance of cases in which we have positive evidence of police acting out of self interest, cruelty, corruption, racism, misogyny, etc. Allowing ourselves to be seduced by the fantasy that they are always always without fail breaking rules and fashing it up in broad daylight only makes us easier to delude and manipulate.

She repeatedly made the point that her son is autistic. Again, if you are autistic or sympathetic to autistic people, you are more likely to be 'warmed up' by this detail and inclined to take her side. I'm not going to say it's irrelevant to the idea that he was being unfairly targeted, but it is overwhelmingly emotionally weighted. And again, it is not evidence that he was unfairly targeted. It's another weight on the scale that tips you to judge the truth value of her story without reality checking.

The example of a meme that she shared is characteristic of a type of online humour that is at least familiar to most of us. If you or your friends make edgy jokes and share tasteless irony memes, or if you've been online for more than like a week, you understand that they're mostly harmless. The idea that this meme could be used as evidence by law enforcement to detain you is ideologically threatening in an immediately relatable way. It evokes a reflex defensive impulse — that's not fair, the cops are wrong, the kid is innocent — bypassing the process of verification. Is this meme the reason he was arrested? Is it the only one he posted? Is it the only reason he was arrested?

All of these factors create a gut-led constellation of information that quickly forms a picture. Because it is being pieced together from multiple subconscious feelings and prejudices, it feels as if it has been evidenced. Because the thread was highly emotional and highly urgent, readers were pressured to jump to rapid conclusions and ask "what can I do to help?" (and the answer, as it almost always is, was 'donate money, quick').

I want to be really clear that I am not saying Jones manufactured any of these effects on purpose. It would be completely within reason that having a young child arrested would send anyone into an emotional tailspin, grasping for reasons this might have happened, leaping to his defense, rallying resources to fight on his behalf. I am not in any way ascribing malice to her actions.

What I'm interested in is the effect that this emotive kneejerk appeal had on people who were unknowingly predisposed to believe that the state of Florida would kidnap a child to punish a scientist for disagreeing with the department of health about covid statistics. That is a baseless conspiracy theory, and a huge number of people in my immediate circles reflexively amplified it.

Personally, I think arrest is a godawful way to respond to a child having a mental health crisis, even if they are seen to pose a violent threat. That still doesn't mean the cops did it at the bidding of a mad dictator in waiting. In the hypothetical parallel universe where it turns out Jones was right and this was all a conspiracy to punish her, it still would not have served the situation to jump to that conclusion on a gut feeling.

Pausing to identify relevant, verifiable facts before sharing a story like this is always warranted, even if you think the person telling it is 'on your side'. The more you worry that questioning the narrative wastes precious time or makes you a bad person, the more you should scrutinise why you are being made to feel that way. Accepting unfounded conspiracies into your worldview is not benign, even if you think the 'targets' deserve it. It erodes your critical perspective and turns you into a vector for the people around you.

tl;dr: you are not immune to baseless conspiratorial thought

[nana-mania]

“KICK AND CRUSHES” when childish rivalry took an unexpected turn

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : hyoma chigiri

࿐*ೃ fandom : blue lock

࿐*ೃ extra : fem! reader, fluff

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ YOU can't believe it. Of all the people in the world to be stuck with, it had to be him-Hyoma Chigiri. The same Hyoma who kicked a soccer ball into your face back in elementary school. The same Hyoma who became your sworn enemy from that day forward. And now? The same Hyoma who you have to share a dorm room with.

It's like the universe is playing some cruel joke.

You stand there at the check-in counter of the boarding school dormitory, holding your key in one hand and your glaring stare in the other. Hyoma stands beside you, slouched against his suitcase, looking equally annoyed.

"This has to be some kind of mistake," you mutter, shaking your head.

"No mistake," Hyoma drawls lazily, peeking at the key in his hand. "We're roommates."

"Roommates? With you? Oh, hell nah," you snap back, eyes narrowing at him.

Hyoma gives a half-hearted shrug, as if your hatred for him is just another Tuesday. "Look, Y/N, I ain't thrilled about this either. I rather stay in isolation room at jail than looking at your face first thing in the morning everytime I wake up."

The dorm receptionist looks between the two of you, already exhausted by the exchange. "I assure you, the system doesn't make mistakes. Room 204 is yours. Enjoy your stay."

Enjoy. Ha. You laugh internally at the absurdity of that word. This is going to be anything but enjoyable.

You throw your bags onto the bed closest to the window, claiming it as your own. The space is small, just two beds crammed into a room with barely enough space for the both of you to coexist. But you're not about to lose round one to Hyoma. Not today.

"Seriously, how the heck did happen?" you grumble, unpacking your things with unnecessarily aggressive energy. "Stupid system. Did they think this guy is a chick like me? At least I ain't in danger.." you mumble to yourself while unpacking.

Hyoma, lounging on his bed with the grace of someone who doesn't care about anything, just smirks. "Luck, I guess."

"More like bad luck," you mutter, shoving your clothes into the drawer. "And this is your fault, anyway."

"My fault?" Hyoma raises an eyebrow. "What part of the room assignment process involves me? I'm a student like you, idiot!"

You glare at him. "I'm talking about elementary school! You still owe me for kicking that ball straight into my face!"

He blinks, tilting his head in mock confusion. "You're still mad about that? For real? Y/N, it has been like, five, six years."

"I was embarrassed at school because of you! I had to walk around with a black eye for a week!"

Hyoma snorts, clearly amused by your indignation. "At least you have a reason to cosplay as pirate at school everyday."

"Pirates have eye patches, not black eyes, dumbass!"

He stretches his arms behind his head, his smirk growing wider. "Same difference."

Oh, he thinks this is funny. You'll show him funny.

It doesn't take long before the petty revenge starts. Every little thing Hyoma does, you counter with your own passive-aggressive response. He leaves the light on while you're trying to sleep? Fine. You blast loud music while he's trying to study. He eats your snacks from the mini-fridge? You hide his shoes under the bed where he'll never find them. It's a cycle of back-and-forth, an unspoken war between two people who refuse to back down.

One evening, after a particularly long day of classes, you walk into the dorm room and find Hyoma sitting at the desk, casually munching on your favorite bag of chips.

"Oh, you did not," you hiss, stomping over to him.

He looks up, feigning innocence. "What? They were just sitting there."

You snatch the bag out of his hands, glaring daggers at him. "Do you have no respect for other people's property?"

"Do you have no respect for a man's hunger?" he retorts.

"That's it!" you declare, grabbing the nearest thing you can find-a half-eaten sandwich from your bag-and chuck it at him.

Hyoma dodges, but the sandwich still smacks him in the shoulder. "I JUST WASH THIS- OH, screw it. It's war now."

Before you know it, the two of you are throwing food at each other like children. The room quickly turns into a battlefield of sandwiches, chips, and whatever else you can find. You're both shouting insults, laughing in between, completely lost in the absurdity of it all.

"Your aim suck!" you yell, flinging a piece of bread at his head.

"You run like a chicken in heat!" he fires back, tossing a slice of cheese in your direction.

You're both breathless, still hurling insults when suddenly, you collapse on the floor, completely exhausted. Hyoma does the same, falling next to you as the food war comes to a truce. You're both lying on your backs, staring up at the ceiling in silence, catching your breath.

The silence stretches for a while before you finally speak, your voice quieter this time. "We've been acting like idiots, haven't we?"

Hyoma lets out a small chuckle. "Yeah, pretty much."

You turn your head slightly to look at him. His face is flushed from all the exertion, and you can't help but laugh. "All this over a soccer ball."

You laugh, the sound light and easy for once. It's the first time in a long while that you're not annoyed with him, not plotting your next move to get under his skin. You're just... here. And surprisingly, it feels kind of nice.

"I guess we were both being petty," you admit, staring back up at the ceiling.

Hyoma hums in agreement. "Yeah. Kind of pointless, when you think about it."

You fall into a comfortable silence again, both of you too tired to continue the usual banter. The room feels different now, like a shift has happened between you. It's subtle, but it's there.

Then Hyoma speaks, his voice softer than you've ever heard it. "Actually, Y/N, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

You turn your head toward him, curious. "What?"

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking up to the ceiling as if he's trying to find the right words. Then, with a deep breath, he says it.

"I used to have a crush on you when we were kids."

The words hang in the air like a bomb, and you feel your heart stop for a second. He DID NOT just drop that out of nowhere!

What? A crush? On you?

You sit up quickly, staring at him like he's grown two heads. "W-What the hell did you just say?"

Hyoma props himself up on his elbows, giving you a sheepish grin. "I had a crush on you. Back in elementary school. Before, you know, I accidentally kicked that ball into your face."

You blink, your brain struggling to process this new information. "You are tripping." you were yet to believe him. You thought he was still attempting to take petty revenges at you by playing with your feelings.

He shakes his head, chuckling softly. "Nope, this is real. I thought you were cute. But then, well..the whole soccer ball thing happened, and, uh, things kind of spiraled from there. You avoided me and hated on me. It made me sad, to be honest."

You can't believe what you're hearing. All this time, you've been holding onto that grudge, and Hyoma... liked you? Your face turns red, and you quickly look away, your heart racing for reasons you don't quite understand.

"Well," you mumble, trying to compose yourself, "you've got a weird way of showing affection."

He laughs, the sound light and genuine. "Yeah, I guess I do."

There's a strange, fluttery feeling in your chest now, and you're not sure if it's because of the exhaustion from the food fight or because of what Hyoma just said. Either way, you find yourself suddenly very aware of how close he's sitting to you.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and for the first time, you don't feel the usual urge to throw something at him. Instead, you feel... something else. Something confusing. Something that makes your face heat up even more.

Hyoma must notice the change in your demeanor because his teasing smirk softens into something more sincere. "You okay?"

You nod, a little too quickly. "Y-Yeah. Just... I never expected that."

He chuckles again, lying back down on the floor. "Yeah, I figured."

You stay sitting for a moment longer, your mind racing with thoughts you never expected to have about Hyoma. The same Hyoma who annoyed you, who stole your snacks, who kicked a soccer ball into your face. And yet, as you look at him now, lying there with that soft smile on his face, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you don't hate him as much as you thought you did.

Maybe you never really hated him at all.

The next few days are... different. There's still banter, still teasing, but the animosity between you and Hyoma seems to have melted away. You no longer feel the urge to plot revenge, and he doesn't go out of his way to annoy you as much anymore. It's strange, but also kind of nice.

And every now and then, when you catch him looking at you with that small, soft smile, your heart does that weird fluttery thing again.

Maybe this whole roommate situation isn't so bad after all.

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this short scenario! likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

[yukirayu]

These I've also shared on Twitter, but I thought I'd share them here before someone tries any sort of libel.

You know what's funny about this whole discourse about the Slow Damage patch ? The whole discourse reminds me of game mods, in a way.

Game mods are made by fans, for free no less, for you to download, and only if you wanted, to help improve your experience with a game.

Whether it's improving the aesthetic (character or background design) or tweaking some of the gameplay elements itself. Or adding new elements, or even changing things purely for shits and giggles.

That way, mods are akin to patches. More often than not, mods are made because the base game had flaws in their design (technical or otherwise) that the mod intended to fix or improve.

But these mods are optional. And naturally, most mods are going to use preexisting assets from either the game they're modding or from another game, assets that they'll either refine or combine with other assets to make something better.

While some mods earn a raised brow, if the mod isn't to one's liking, most generally just ignore it.

Except in this specific instance, some don't like the mod that is the patch and feel that it doesn't sit right with them for whatever reason, believing that its existence would be "spitting" on the original game or because it no longer sounds as snarky as they themselves would like to read it as.

But instead of ignoring the patch, which they were explicitly advised to do if they take offense to it, they decide to make their dislike everyone else's problem, and by poisoning the well, no less.

And one quick way to ensure that is to accuse the patch of bigotry towards the LGBT community.

I'm already aware that this same accusation is spreading like wildfire, both in Reddit and especially in Twitter, and in some Discord spaces, most likely.

But did anyone, and this includes the accusers, even play at least 40% of the patched version, and intensively at that, before making that claim?

Oh, I'm all too aware that bigotry is a real, serious and widespread issue.

But in most online circles nowadays, accusing something of bigotry right off the gate is also one surefire method of turning people off of it before they can even check it out for themselves.

I mean, what better way of publicly dragging something you don't like through the mud than to spread accusations/misassumptions that are quick for others to believe before anyone can even try and personally fact-check anything?

Especially in a place like the internet itself.

The note stating the avoidance of using a specific pronoun for some characters to not assume their identity could've been phrased better, yes, and the patch team did clarify their stance on the matter. Alas, anything can still easily be misinterpreted and used as flame bait.

But what's odd is that the people who first touted this claim (either here or in other platforms) have one thing in common: they never checked out the patch (let alone played through one certain route in full) to personally confirm if that really is the case.

Taking all this into consideration, I think that no matter how the patch was presented, it'd get backlash.

Even long before any of us knew this patch was even going to be a thing, even giving constructive criticism about the localization and any mistakes/goofs it made already drew ire, and it's those same people who took offense that are spreading the hate about this patch.

It all really boils down to the matter of the patch even existing, since - as some detractors point out - it's what they call to be a disrespectful spit to the face, even without factoring the false accusations of transphobia and plagiarism.

Let's say they used the JP game files instead and have the patch work with that version. They'd get decried for copyright infringement and they risk a C&D order.

Use the EN files? We already get the claims that they barely did anything to the text, among other things. Why?

Because they didn't adjust every single syntax and change every single word in every single sentence… when English isn't exactly the most versatile language and there's only ways you can translate something, especially in the simpler sentences like "Who are you?".

Using a thesaurus on everything would make it sound weird. Heck, the patch being more verbose and detailed and impersonal (which is what's to be expected when it's third person and in a visual novel, no less) already got it accused of being no more than a fancy MTL.

And it doesn't help that many already assume that the statement that MTL can be a helpful tool is also the same as "MTL being the superior translator of all time", and people will find anything and I mean anything to hate on something and discredit it.

And as for the preferring 1st person over 3rd person and vice versa? It's a matter of preference, yes, and that can't be helped.

But let's get one fact out in the open: Out of N+C's 5 main VNs, only one is told in first person POV in the JP/original version, and that's DMMD.

The other game that used 1st person narration is Slow Damage's spinoff game, Clean Dishes, but not the main/parent game itself.

And even years before they got licensed, the fan patches followed the intended narration viewpoint of the first 4 VNs. Third person for Togainu no Chi, Lamento, and Sweet Pool, and first person for DMMD.

Their respective localized versions (except Lamento), also followed the intended narration viewpoint, and nobody complained because that was all they knew.

But because Slow Damage's localization took the creative liberty of changing the narration from third to first person, with people exposed to it, it's not really surprising some have gotten accustomed enough to end up preferring it.

Even when another version that retells the game in original narration comes up, for the past two years, the localization has been what they knew, and that is what many usually then decide to stick to.

In the scenario where the localization - even if it would still be a mess - never changed the narration, would people still say "Oh but they should've changed it to 1st person since it would've enhanced the story"?

It's telling that it never happened with Togainu no Chi, Sweet Pool and DMMD, no?

And before anyone tells me that I just hate localizations overall, you don't hear me complaining about the official translation of any of the BLVNs that Mangagamer licensed, do you? I also have plenty of gripes with DMMD's fan translation over what it did to Mink.

[joelswritingmistress]

Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 7

Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz

Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)

Setting: Camp Crystal Lake

The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone.

The night was low key. I could tell everyone was at least a little tired from working, and playing, in the hot sun all day. Mark sat on the porch with a book in his lap, and as I entered the cabin from exploring the grounds a little I saw Vicki wander over to sit beside him.

When I entered the cabin, Jeff and Sandra sat in the living room toying with an old record player. Scott laid the length of the couch with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. I saw he had an ear pod in and was gently bobbing his head to whatever music was playing.

Joel looked over his shoulder from where he was retrieving hot dogs and hamburgers from the fridge and smirked subtly at me as I entered. I smiled back and toyed with a few stray strands of hair by my forehead.

“(Y/N),” Sandra called, waving me over.

I wandered over toward where she held a few albums in her arm like a pair of books. “Hey, did you guys get in trouble?” I asked quietly.

She shook her head. “Nah. Joel just told us not to go back over there.”

“Did you see anything creepy?”

“We didn't get that far,” Jeff claimed. “The cop picked us up before we could go inside any of the old cabins.”

“Anyone want burgers or dogs?” Joel asked aloud. He held a package of hotdogs in the air as we all glanced over.

Jeff held a hand up and then Sandra did the same. I gave a nod and Scott sat up from where he laid.

“Food?” He asked, removing his ear pods.

Joel snickered and confirmed with a nod. “Food.”

Annie appeared at the top of the open staircase toying with her damp, towel-dried hair. “Shower’s free if anyone needs to get in.” Her croc-clad feet peppered down the stairs. “I'll be back in a little bit.”

“You want anything to eat?” Joel asked her.

“I made myself a big salad about an hour ago,” she claimed. “And I'll probably have a s'more or two when I get back.”

“Beware of Ralph,” Joel said to her, half-kidding.

“Ha ha.” Annie threw her hair up into a high bun. “If I see him, I'll give him an ice cream sandwich. I'm going to check out the ice cream inventory.”

“Take a break,” Joel encouraged. “Do it in the morning.”

She waved a hand at him. “I'll be twenty minutes.”

“Mark,” Jeff shouted through the screen of the porch window. “You guys want hot dogs and burgers?”

“One of each for me,” he called back.

“I'll take a cheeseburger if you're offering,” Vicki said next.

“You hear that boss?” Jeff asked Joel.

“Loud and clear.”

“Where's Teri?” I looked around the open floor plan.

“Upstairs,” Sandra claimed.

“Anyone want to give me a hand bringing some of this stuff out to the grill?” Joel asked.

Jeff began to raise his hand but Sandra nudged his stomach with her elbow.

“Ow,” he said quietly, glancing at her.

“Go,” Sandra whispered to me, as Joel nonchalantly retrieved cheese, lettuce and tomato from the fridge.

I chuckled and cleared my throat. “I'll help,” I volunteered.

“Great, thanks,” Joel said back.

I gazed at Sandra and we shared a smirk. I pulled her in to whisper discreetly. “We need to talk later.”

“What happened?” She whispered back.

“I'll tell you later.”

Joel and I made eye contact across the room and I wandered over to grab two oversized dishes he’d laid out. When he placed a knife on top of them I glanced up at him.

“Might need you to slice a tomato or two while I heat up the grill,” he explained.

“No problem.” I retrieved the lettuce and tomato, scooped up the plates and followed him out the back door onto a little deck. The light by the back door illuminated the grilling area as the atmosphere darkened under the cover of the trees.

I placed the plates down on a small table beside the grill and retrieved a tomato as Joel squatted to turn the gas tank on. My back was to him as I began to slice the red sphere. My body stiffened and I felt a rush of adrenaline power through me when Joel’s hand topped mine on the knife. His body brushed up against mine and I let out a breath without looking back.

Joel’s hand pressed down and I went with the motion, cutting the tomato once, twice, three times.

“You’re very good at that,” he practically purred in my ear. Feeling his breath land against my neck as he spoke made me weak in the knees, and my toes curled beneath my white Nikes.

I swallowed hard, taking completely off guard but also totally on board with Joel’s advances. “Thank you,” I choked out.

“I knew how you felt about me the second I met you,” he spoke quietly. His fingers tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.

There was no use in denying it. “How?” I whispered back.

“A man can tell.”

A man. He certainly was a man. The tumultuous emotions that brewed inside of me were unlike anything I’d ever felt before when it came to sex, romance and dating. My whole body was hot and if there would have been no repercussions I would have uncharacteristically turned and jumped his bones right there. 

The knife left my hand and he turned my body to face his. Joel dove in for a kiss, an extension of what was interrupted in the shed by the sheriff earlier in the day. I had been thinking about it ever since.

Can anyone see us? The concern was a fleeting one and I continued to indulge in him until Joel was the one to pull back with a breath. When he proceeded to peck my lips just after I wasn’t ready for it and simply closed my eyes without reciprocating. His hand landed on the side of my face and my eyes flickered open again. Joel let out a breath through his nose.

“Are you involved with anyone?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Are.. you?”

Joel mirrored my response. “No.”

“Good.” I laughed lightly as I said that.

“You, uh.. You want to agree to a summer romance?”

I laughed a little louder and Joel laughed with me. “What are the terms of that?”

“Why don’t we make them right now?”

“Okay.” I felt my body heat up even more and I couldn’t keep a wide grin from my face.

“Don’t pursue anyone else at the camp.” The statement came out sort of as a question, “And I won’t either.”

I nodded. That was more than reasonable. “I’ll agree to that.”

“Unless you’re not into this once we try-”

“I’m into it,” I said right away, making him chuckle. I added, “A man really can tell, I guess because I’m.. very into this.”

“Good.” Joel smirked, “Because I am, too.” He pulled me back to him and our lips met again. I could feel him smiling into the kiss the same way I was.

“Do we have to keep this, like, a secret?” I asked.

“Doesn’t Sandra already know?”

My eyes widened and I swallowed hard. “Well.. not.. Exactly.”

“She’s smart,” Joel said with a smirk, “She knows.”

“Well, she’s suspected.. I didn’t say anything.”

“We’re all adults here,” he reminded me, “I’m just the organizer of this place. You all seem like good workers so there’s no favoritism.” Joel toyed with my hair again, “As long as you’re not embarrassed about it, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Why would I be embarrassed?”

“Because of our age difference.”

I laughed lightly, “No guys in their twenties made me feel what you’ve made me feel in the short time I’ve known you.”

Joel looked pleased by my words and smiled smally, mostly to himself. It almost looked like he was giving himself props in his mind. It made me chuckle again.

“So.” He held a hand out in front of him, “Do we agree to the terms?”

I glanced down and shook his hand. “I agree.”

“And you’re a townie, like me,” Joel added. “So, if things go really well, maybe we can even go apple picking in the fall.”

My heart grew a size. “I’ll be around.”

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed me lips again as he reached for a spatula.

“Good.”

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