#but yeah i want more rhythm games
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todayisafridaynight · 2 years ago
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I know this is a bit random but what minigame would you like to be added in yakuza games? I want a DDR minigame.
i want more rhythm games that'll make me want to kill myself
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supersecretnerd · 7 months ago
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Ok so these designs are cute as hell, the Internet is just mean
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I have too many thoughts about a game I still need to watch
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#goodbye volcano high#i dont have the money to buy it but god i need to watch a playthrough when i have time it's so interesting to me#like; the theme of 'yeah we're going die but that doesn't mean we can enjoy what time we have left' sounds amazing to me love that#its so funny i was actually watching a review of it that was basically 'this game sucks and here's why'#and then it just started listing off shit like- 'the characters designs are pastel they're nonbinary you die no matter what'#and then my neurons just went off and went '👁️👁️ oh! sounds amazing i want to see more'#fuck yeah pastel nonbinary dinosaurs lets go#well i think its just fang thats nonbinary and then two other trans characters#i saw a cutscene! and it was about the experiences of being an apart of a family as sec-gen immigrant and trans-#and i thought that was cool as hell dont recall ever seeing that in any of thr arts ive seen before (but there's lots of art out there!)#heard it got some glitches tho (havent looked in depth of what those glitches are) hopefully it got patched out#also im so fucking pissed i saw the gator game before i saw this 😮‍💨 (context; apparently made by people who made a fangame where they#the mc of this game a datable side character and they only have a happy ending if they detransition? which fucking yikes😬)#i saw people say 'oh but they did it empathetically' like how the fuck is taking a canon nb character and making them only happy through#detransitioning empathetic that sounds super fucking shitty and gross#i think a character that detransitions can be done and would be interesting to see- but this just reeks of people being transphobic for real#oh also purple dino has a slug or worm or something apparently! seems cute! just a lil thing#apparently its a rhythm game; listened to some of the songs and it sounded good! sadly i suck at rhythm games#but apparently failing doesn't affect the story? kinda wish it would but honestly better for me lol-#pink one and fang end up dating i believe- from what i saw pink is like- soft spoken artist? dunno if accurate but she's cute#all the characters are cute just look at them!!! awesome#also they have to just continue school like normal before they die and honestly thats so real#also saw people dislike the fact you dont see the characters actual die or the meteor#which is ??? dunno i just think some things are better left implied than shown-#anyways man i keep trying to find neat stuff about the game and all i see is people bitchin about it or praising the shit fan on instead 😔#man if i had two nickles for a time i grew to become obsessed with a media only for loads of people to hate id have two nickles#first nickle is kat elliot she's such a cool character Internet wasn't ready for her#also yes i saw obsessed i can just tell this is something ill go bonkers for#i mean god look how much text is in my tags for this already! and i still need to see the game in it's fullness!#im sure there's other cool shit
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fernflowerss · 4 months ago
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I Just read a fic from 2015ish set in post splat1/pre splat2 and it made my gears turn for my own ocs and headcanons.
I also was listening to See You Again with alternate intro and it just gives such big march vibes so i give you this:
After splatoon 1/2 when octolings started defecting en masse and fleeing to Inkopolis a sort of pride was created to celebrate and make so octolings become accepted into society.
In time as it becomes more and more common it just becomes a pride parade in celebration of all the different species that live in the city.
#adding more stuff here because I don't want to be annoying#I came up with this idea because I love the idea of the song being used at pride parades (even if I've never been to one) but like#due to the VAST amount of lgbt players and in turn ocs/characters it just feels silly for an lgbt pride to take place in a world where#being queer is the norm#BUT#one thing that is not “normal”/are considered minorities are non inkling species#ESPECIALLY octolings (in inkopolis at least- I'm playing the story modes and I've found out that the war never affected splatsville(?) so#we're just gonna ignore that for now)#I imagine that canon wise the transition from octolings are enemies to octolings are now an established part of squid society was not#too smooth so marches and pride and octo activism??? seems cool#Second part of the headcanon is in the song itself: the alt intro sample comes from a military rhytm excercise (idk america thing I think#and I'm not too familiar)#and I like to think that for octos in training they used these kinds of rhythm based songs to teach marching n stuff?#I like to think they took inspo from it and created music by sampling these marching songs and now sing with pride these tunes except this#time they sing for peace and not war.#I was thinking about another headcanon linked to the general octoling pride thing but I forgot it while writing the tags fml#I'll update later ig#splatoon#inkopolis#octolings#splatoon headcanon#OH YEAH I REMEMBER#I saw someone mentioning that it would be cool if the next game was more based on salmonids so#even if I'm a big fan of salmon run myself and I cannot see how they would achieve keeping it in the game while also making salmons a#peaceful species#it's fun to think that in future the octo/species pride will also include salmonids#perhaps this inclusion would be initiated by a grown up smallfry :)
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astrxealis · 2 years ago
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good morning 🥺
#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#sorrey ... not active ..... lots going on but also not (?)#IDK anyways i've reconnected w an old friend who's a childhood friend bcs shes the daughter of my mom's friend ^___^#she said she's gna get into the 1975 more !! but she's alrdy going to the arctic monkey's concert soon which is super cool#and i rmbr our mom asked me and lune if we knew them too <3 but we didn't know there was a legit concert SOBS#yeah miss her a lot and it's sweet how wnvr we do reconnect a bit it always so happens we're into the same thing of sorts :((#AND THEN! wow idk i've grown a lil less hesitant. somehow. idk. literally replied to the story on ig of a guy ik but haven't talked to in ag#ages* purely bcs he kept posting like woaaa based game and then ff6 best ff so i was like SO TRUE but have u played 14#and he has NOT but does want to and then wow we could have had a lil convo but i left to watch a movie sorry bro <//3#what else ... hmm ..... WELL. an old friend from all the way in 6th grade. okay so we often message each other a bit just like 'hey wna be#grpmates' or smth like that and that one time where they gave me a lil help for the chem grp work and i'm like. just comfy talking like#myself fr BUT THENNN messaged me sometime last week bcs. like smth w a grpwork and they got anxious they did smth wrong#bcs no one in the gc replied to them (sorry i didn't either SOBS) T___T ended up turning the convo to 'hey wt abt i finally try to talk w u#properly more' and HELL YEAHHH we both r the kinds that talk/type a lot but sometimes dip and disappear how lovely /gen LMAO <3#idk. uhm. with the school fair we have booths and shifts for the booths and my group is the one with uhh the 4 kids who i'm often groups#with and they're all the. yk kids. ppl who i'd get along w and i've been classmates w all of em b4 but you see they're a grp of friends now#RAGHH ONE OF THEM IK LIKES PERSONA (MULTIPLE?? IDK. they once were like yo apollo u seem like u like persona lol#IDK WHAT THAT IS SUPPOSED TO MEAN but yes i do have akechi and ren charms on my backpack for school#AND THEN ONE is into like gi pjsk a lot of rhythm games and gacha mobile but all like uhh. yeah? tot love live bandori ... still cool fr tho#she's rlly nice tbh lol ^___^ wait tbh all of them are HELP but uhm idk but it's nice when ppl r nice to me#tbf that's literally how i got my first crush BUT WE DON'T TALK ABT THAT !! yk sometimes i unconsciously wonder abt her or look for her and#then i did see her again after a few months since seeing her early in on the school year bcs shes in basketball and i hung out at the uhh#covered court w my best friend whos in another varsity bcs we stayed late at school that day to help out w fair preparations!#i refuse to like her again but i realize i like that familiarity with feelings and uhmm yeah shes cool ig i kinda wish i was less. uhm. shy#back then? you see i barely cld talk to her ... LIKE. she'd be like. heyy! and do shit sometimes and i WOULDN'T TALK or just smile and#mumble RAFGHHHFHFHDHH but she'd say hi to me and include me in things and jokes and it made me rlly /@!(@/'dmdkzn okay#AND sometimes when i do talk back I am SOOOO GODDAMN AWKWARD GOOD GODS anyways now i'm like. less awkward. or maybe i've just accepted it n#i'm cooler now B) and a lot more confident zEjfhejdjsnk. yeah. and uhmm yeah that's it#BUT YEAH nice classmate she asked me for a hug once lol and i notice she's affectionate w her friends n it reminds me of m y own bestie awhh#she sometimes talks to me which i rlly appreciate even if it prolly seems like i hate her sorry i just suck w talking
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skep-eroni · 1 year ago
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Finally got SS on that dumb Pomefiore Hard Twistune (The one on Chapter 35) after an hour but maintenance happened right as I finished it and it didn't save
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moonlightwritingf1 · 1 month ago
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Unspoken Desires | LN4
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🌙 summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N have been dating for a few weeks but haven't been intimate yet. As they're getting ready to go out one night, Lando suddenly confesses his intense desire.
🌙 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader
🌙 word count ━━━━━━━ 3.1k
🌙 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content
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"I’ve never wanted to fuck someone as badly as I want to fuck you right now," Lando said, his voice low and rough, cutting through the silence like a knife. His words hit her like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless and hot all over.
She glanced up at him, her heart racing, and saw the intensity in his eyes—a raw, unfiltered need that made her own body respond in kind. He wasn’t hiding it, not even trying to play it cool. The way he looked at her, it was like he was seeing straight through to her core, like he knew exactly how much she wanted this too. And maybe he did. Maybe he’d been picking up on the little cues, the way her breath hitched when he got too close, the way her thighs pressed together when he leaned in to kiss her neck.
He had always been good at reading her.
---
It started about three weeks ago, during one of those late-night encounters that seemed harmless at first but quickly spiraled into something much more. They had been hanging out at his place, just talking, laughing, the kind of easy chemistry that makes time disappear. But then his hand brushed against hers, just a fleeting touch, and suddenly the air between them felt charged, electric.
"What are we doing?" she asked, unable to keep the nervous edge out of her voice.
Lando had leaned back in his chair, studying her for a long moment before answering. "I don’t know," he admitted, his tone measured but his eyes telling a different story. There was something there, something simmering just below the surface, and it wasn’t hard to guess what it was. Desire. Pure, unadulterated desire.
And yet, neither of them made a move. Not then, anyway. Instead, they fell into a rhythm, a dance that involved lingering glances, stolen touches, and endless teasing. It was intoxicating, thrilling, and frustrating all at once. Every time they got close, something held them back—a fear of ruining what they had, perhaps, or maybe just the uncertainty of where things were headed.
But tonight? Tonight feelt different.
---
The two of them were standing by the door, coats draped over their arms, ready to head out for the night. Or at least, she had been ready. Now, with Lando’s words still ringing in her ears, she could barely think straight. Her pulse pounded in her temples, and her skin felt overly sensitive, like it was buzzing with anticipation.
"Lando," she managed to say, her voice trembling slightly. "What… what are you saying?"
He stepped closer, crowding her space until there was only an inch or two between them. His hands found her hips, fingers gripping lightly but firmly, anchoring her in place. "I’m saying," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, "that I want you. Like I’ve never wanted anyone else. And yeah, maybe we’d only been dating a few weeks, but fuck it. I don’t care about playing it cool anymore."
His confession sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt her resolve starting to crumble. He wanted her. No games, no pretense—just raw, undeniable desire. It was overwhelming, but in the best possible way.
"Are you serious?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lando pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his expression fierce and unapologetic. "Dead serious."
The weight of his words settled over her, heavy and irresistible. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with whatever he had for dinner earlier. It was intoxicating, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. And honestly? She didn’t want to resist.
"Then what are we waiting for?" she challenged, lifting her chin slightly.
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was equal parts demanding and desperate.
Her bag slipped from her shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud as her free hand clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer. His tongue swept into her mouth, urgent and insistent, and she could taste the sharpness of his mint gum, mingled with a hint of something darker, wilder.
Lando’s hand slid up her side, tracing the curve of her waist until his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her top, brushing against the warm expanse of her skin. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, devouring her mouth like he couldn’t get enough of her.
"God, you feel so fucking good," he muttered against her lips, his voice rough and strained.
She tugged on the collar of his shirt, urging him closer, and he responded by lifting her effortlessly, setting her down on the nearby table. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against her. The sudden intimacy of the position made her breath hitch, and she could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against her center, a delicious reminder of just how badly he wanted her.
"You feel so good," he murmured against her mouth, his voice low and gravelly, almost possessive. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, skimming over the fabric of her jeans before dipping beneath the hem. The touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. "I can’t stop thinking about how perfect you are."
Perfect. The word made her heart stutter. She was far from perfect, but in this moment, with Lando looking at her like she was the only thing that existed, it didn’t seem to matter. His green/blue eyes bore into hers, stripping away any doubt, any insecurity. All she could see was the intensity in his gaze, the way it flickered with need.
"Lando…" she breathed, her voice shaky. Her hands found his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if he might disappear if she let go.
He responded by pressing her harder against the table, his hips aligning with hers. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through her, unrelenting and undeniable. His lips left hers, trailing down her jawline, nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear. "Tell me you want this," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "Tell me you want me."
Want. The word hung heavy in the air, a demand disguised as a plea. She did want him. God, she did. But there was still a part of her holding back, questioning whether this was what she really wanted or if it was just the heat of the moment talking. Lando seemed to sense her hesitation because he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers for an answer.
"I want you," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "I’d never wanted anyone like this before, but..."
"What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. It was such a stark contrast to the dominance she had felt moments ago that it caught her off guard. "Do you not feel it too?"
She shook her head quickly, feeling guilty for making him question himself. "No, it’s not that. I do feel it. I just—" She paused, unsure of how to explain the tangle of emotions swirling inside her.  "I’ve never been this close to someone before. Not like this."
His expression softened, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, reassuring smile. "I have," he admitted, his voice steady. "But none of it ever felt like this. This is different. It’s real, y/n. Can’t you feel it?"
She nodded, unable to deny the truth in his words. There was something different about this, something that felt raw and unfiltered. It wasn’t just about the physical attraction—though that was undeniable—it was about the connection, the way their hearts seemed to beat in sync.
"Then stop overthinking," Lando said, his tone playful but firm. "Just feel."
And with that, he kissed her again, deeper this time. His tongue parted her lips, exploring every inch of her mouth with an urgency that left no room for doubt. One hand traveled up her side, slipping beneath her shirt to press against the bare skin of her lower back. The other slid around to the front, palming her breast through her bra.
The sensation was overwhelming, her body arching involuntarily into his touch. A moan escaped her lips, swallowed by his as he continued to kiss her with a fervor that set her blood ablaze. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in that moment, lost in each other.
"You’re so beautiful," Lando breathed, his voice ragged. His thumb brushed over her nipple, already hard with arousal, and she gasped against his mouth. "Every part of you."
His words sent a thrill of pleasure through her, her mind spinning with the implications. She’d never felt this desired, this wanted. And it was intoxicating. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “Don’t stop.”
His response was immediate. He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice thick with intent. “Not unless you tell me to.”
The weight of his words settled over her, leaving no room for uncertainty. This was happening. Right here, right now, with Lando looking at her like she was everything he’d ever wanted. She nodded, her decision made without a single doubt.
“Then don’t,” she said, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. “Take me.”
His pupils dilated at her words, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. Without another word, he reached for the button of her jeans, his movements quick but careful. The sound of the zipper sliding down echoed in the quiet space, a reminder of the intimacy unfolding between them.
“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice deep and gravelly. The tone sent a shiver down her spine, the mix of dominance and tenderness overwhelming.
She obeyed, shifting her hips until her legs were parted, allowing him access. His hands moved with purpose, slipping beneath the elastic of her panties to gently cup her warmth. The contact was sudden, his fingers brushing against her clit with a precision that made her gasp.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Did you know that?”
She shook her head, too overwhelmed to speak. All she could do was watch as he dipped a finger inside her, his touch sending shockwaves through her body. The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever felt, the way he filled her completely, tilting his finger just right to stroke her walls.
“So tight,” he groaned, his voice strained. “God, I can’t wait to be inside you.”
His words ignited a fire within her, her hips bucking against his hand as she chased the pleasure. Lando obliged, adding a second finger and curling them in just the right way to make her knees tremble.
“Fuck, Lando…” she moaned, her voice breaking. “Please…”
“Please what?” he growled, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you want.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. How could she even begin to articulate the craving building inside her, the desperate need to have him fully, completely?
Before she could form the words, Lando took matters into his own hands—literally. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his tongue. The sensation was overwhelming, the warmth and pressure of his mouth sending her spiraling into sensory overload.
“Oh my god…” she gasped, her hands flying to his hair as she tried to anchor herself. Lando didn’t hesitate, his tongue flicking against her clit with relentless precision. Every movement was deliberate, calculated to bring her closer to the edge.
“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice muffled against her core. “I can’t get enough of you.”
His dirty talk only added fuel to the fire, her hips rocking against his face as she struggled to hold on. But Lando wasn’t done yet. He pulled back, positioning himself between her legs before guiding his cock to her entrance.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice trembling with restraint. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, locked in a silent exchange of trust and desire.
She nodded, biting her lip to keep from begging. “Yes. Please.”
With one swift motion, he pushed inside her, filling her completely. The sensation was almost too much, her body stretching to accommodate him. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to the feeling.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Lando whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “I don’t think I’ll last.”
But then he started to move, slow and steady at first, giving her time to adjust. Each thrust was measured, his hips meeting hers with a rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her veins.
“Lando,” she moaned, unable to hold back any longer. “Harder. Please.”
He listened, picking up the pace until the sound of their bodies connecting filled the air. The pleasure built with every thrust, consuming them both until all that was left was the raw, primal need to reach the peak together.
“Come for me,” Lando growled, his voice commanding. “Let me feel you come apart.”
He didn’t stop moving, not even for a second. His arms tightened around her as he carried her down the hallway, her legs still wrapped securely around his waist, his cock still buried deep inside her. Her breath hitched with every step, the sensation of him twitching within her only heightening the anticipation that built with each passing moment.
“You feel so good,” Lando murmured into her ear, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down her spine. He nuzzled her neck, peppering soft kisses along her skin, making her shudder. “I can’t wait to have you like this, completely at my mercy.”
Mercy. The word sent a rush of heat through her body, pooling between her legs. She bit her lip, trying to steady her breathing, but it was no use. She was already lost in the haze of desire that Lando had created.
He kicked open the door to his bedroom with one swift motion, and then he was laying her down on the bed, his weight pressing her into the mattress. His hands were everywhere—in her hair, on her hips, sliding up her thighs—as if he couldn’t get enough of her. And maybe he couldn’t. She certainly couldn’t get enough of him.
“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Please,  move… don’t make me wait.”
His lips curved into a wicked smile, and he leaned down to kiss her again, deep and possessive, his tongue dominating hers. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, those piercing green/blue  eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul. “I won’t,” he said, his voice a promise. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
Before she could respond, he spread her legs apart, repositioning himself between them. He looked down at her, his gaze intense, almost primal. “Are you sure?” he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
She nodded, unable to speak, her heart pounding in her chest. Yes, she thought. Always yes.
With one quick, deliberate motion, he made an in-and-out motion and sank into her again, filling her completely. She gasped, her body arching up to meet his, desperate for more. His name escaped her lips in a breathless moan, and he groaned in response, his forehead resting against hers.
“Fuck, y/n,” he muttered, his voice ragged. “You feel so damn good.”
He began to move, slow and steady at first, giving her body time to adjust again. His thrusts were measured, deliberate, each one hitting her in just the right spot. She clutched at his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
“Lando,” she cried out, her voice breaking. “Please… harder.”
He listened, picking up the pace until the room was filled with the sound of their bodies coming together. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, each one sending jolts of electricity through her veins. She could feel the orgasm building inside her, closer and closer, threatening to consume her.
“Come for me,” Lando demanded, his voice commanding. “Let me feel you come apart.”
His words pushed her over the edge, and she did exactly as he said. Her body convulsed around him, her walls clenching tight as the orgasm ripped through her. She screamed his name, lost in the throes of pleasure, as he continued to thrust into her, chasing his own release.
“I’m close,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “God, I’m so close.”
She reached up to touch him, her fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Don’t stop,”she breathed, her voice barely audible. 
He didn’t. With one final, powerful thrust, he came. He let out a guttural growl, his body going rigid as he spilled inside her, his warmth mingling with hers.
For a few moments, neither of them moved, caught in the aftermath of what had just happened. Lando collapsed onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms. She lay there, her heart still racing, her body buzzing with the remnants of pleasure.
“That was…” she trailed off, unable to find the words to describe what had just happened.
“Incredible,” Lando finished for her, his voice soft but filled with conviction. He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, before finally capturing her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. “And it’s only the beginning.”
She smiled against his lips, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. But before she could fully bask in the moment, Lando pulled away slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Ready for round two?” he asked, his voice teasing.
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As the night drew to a close, Lando and Y/N lay tangled in the sheets, breathless and content. Lando's fingers traced small circles on her skin, a soft and soothing contrast to the intensity of earlier. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and she smiled, feeling completely at ease in his embrace.
"You know," Lando murmured, his voice playful yet tender, "I think we just set a new standard for our dates."
She laughed softly, turning to meet his gaze. "Is that so?" she teased, her fingers gently caressing his chest.
"Yeah," he grinned, his eyes sparkling. "But no pressure. I think we can take it slow from here on out... unless you're ready to break some more records."
She chuckled, snuggling closer, feeling his warmth surrounding her. "Maybe we should just enjoy the moment, Lando."
He nodded, his expression softening as he held her tighter. "You're right. This... us... it feels real. And that's all that matters."
She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Just the quiet, simple certainty that something beautiful had begun between the two of them.
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cceana · 8 days ago
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Arcane Highschool!AU
characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 7.1k words, cliche highschool tropes, gn!reader, just pure fluff also a little reverse comfort
A/N this was so fun to do, cant believe i finished this in 1 day ahahahahhaah. this is my longest work yet so hopefully you guys enjoy it <3
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— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader
You’ve spent most of your high school life flying under the radar as the band’s flute player—quiet, responsible, and perfectly content in your niche. Your days revolve around early-morning rehearsals, sheet music, and the steady rhythm of practice. It’s predictable, comfortable.
That is, until the school’s star athlete, Vi, always in whispers and cheers, bursts into your life like an unrelenting storm.
Shes everything you’re not—loud, brash, impulsive, and dangerously confident. The type who winks at the crowd after scoring the winning goal, whose swagger fills the halls, and who’s constantly making headlines for their fiery outbursts on and off the field. You’ve heard the stories: the scuffle at last week’s game, the heated argument with the coach, the rumors of detention slips piling up.
You’d barely exchanged more than a few words with her, but that changes when the school decides to host a collaborative pep rally—complete with a showstopping performance featuring both the sports teams and the band.
When the coach volunteers them to help promote school spirit by playing a surprise number with the band, you’re horrified. So is she.
“I don’t have time for this,” she scoff when she gets dragged to the band room. “Why don’t you all just play louder or something?”
Your teacher assigns you the unenviable task of teaching them how to play an instrument. You can practically hear your friends giggling behind your back as you pull them aside, thrusting a trumpet into their hands.
Vi groans, slouching in her chair like a bored kid in detention. “What’s the point of this? Everyone’s here to watch me win, not play this stupid thing.”
You bristle at their cocky tone. “Well, if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the entire school, I suggest you try.”
VI then gives you a smirk, leaning in just a little too close. “Oh, you think I can’t do it? I’m good at everything.”
It turns out, she's not.
The first few lessons are a disaster. She blow into the trumpet like she's trying to blow out a candle from across the room, their fingers fumble over the valves, and she keep snapping, “This thing is broken!” every time it makes a screeching noise.
But underneath all the bravado and eye-rolls, you start to notice something. The way she glares at the trumpet when she messes up isn’t just frustration—it’s determination. she hates failing, and she hates it even more that they’re bad at this.
“I’m not giving up,” Vi declares after her third failed attempt to hit a note. “I’m not letting some dumb piece of metal beat me.”
The more you work together, the more cracks appear in their tough exterior. she's fiercely competitive, yes, but also surprisingly quick to laugh at themselves when the trumpet sputters out the wrong notes. Her cocky grin softens when you praise even her smallest improvement, and she starts showing up to practice earlier than you do.
One afternoon, as you’re packing up your sheet music, you catch them staring at the band photo on the wall. “You guys practice this much all the time?” Vi asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.
“Yeah,” you say, surprised. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.”
she nod slowly, her usual swagger replaced by something contemplative. “Never thought about it like that. I guess… it’s kind of like training, huh?”
That’s when you realize she's not as invincible as she seem. Behind the hot-headed confidence is someone who works just as hard as you do, who’s just as passionate about what they love—even if they show it in a completely different way.
And when the pep rally finally arrives, with the gym packed to the rafters, she surprise's everyone—not just with how she learned to play, but with how she step aside during the performance to let the band take the spotlight.
Afterward, as the crowd cheers, she give you a lopsided grin. “Not bad, huh? Guess I’m pretty good at this whole teamwork thing.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide your smile.
The pep rally is over, and the gym is buzzing with energy as people file out, still cheering and talking about the unexpected performance. You’re gathering your things in the corner of the stage when you hear footsteps behind you.
“Hey,” she calls out, her voice softer than you’re used to.
You turn to find her standing there, holding her trumpet in one hand, the other rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. For once, her usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be seen, replaced by an expression that’s… almost nervous.
“Uh, so… you were pretty great out there,” she says, her eyes flickering between yours and the floor. “I mean, you’re always great, but, like, today—you really killed it.”
You blink, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thanks. You were pretty great too. You didn’t even mess up the solo.”
She laughs, a warm, genuine sound that makes your chest flutter. “Yeah, well, I had a good teacher. Guess I owe you for that.”
You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. But you did the work. I’m impressed, actually. Didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”
She steps a little closer, her usual confidence creeping back into her voice. “Yeah? So, I impressed you?”
Your face heats up, and you roll your eyes to hide it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late,” she teases, but her grin softens as her gaze lingers on you. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The noise of the gym fades into the background, and all you can hear is the faint hum of your own heartbeat.
She looks down at the trumpet in her hand, turning it over like she’s stalling. “You know… I used to think band stuff was just… background noise. Like, nobody really notices it. But being up there, seeing how much you guys put into it…”
Her voice trails off, and when she looks back at you, there’s something in her eyes that makes it hard to breathe. “It made me notice you more.”
Your breath catches. “Me?”
“Yeah.” She takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating off her. “You’re not just some quiet band geek who hangs out in the background. You’re… amazing. And I’ve been an idiot for not seeing it sooner.”
You open your mouth to reply, but the words get stuck in your throat. She’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world, and for the first time, you don’t feel small or invisible. You feel seen.
“I know I’ve been kind of… impossible,” she continues, her voice dropping lower. “But I don’t want to screw this up. So if I asked you to, I don’t know, grab milkshakes or something sometime… what would you say?”
You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “I’d say… as long as you don’t try to play the trumpet during the date, I might say yes.”
Her laugh is loud and bright, and before you know it, she’s grinning down at you. “Deal.”
The gym lights flicker as the janitor starts cleaning up, and you realize you’ve been standing there for what feels like forever. But as she walks you out, her shoulder brushing against yours, you can’t help but think that maybe this impulsive, hot-headed star athlete isn’t so bad after all.
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— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn
You and Caitlyn were inseparable once, two halves of the same whole. Summers were spent running through sun-drenched fields, plotting grand adventures, and swearing eternal friendship under the stars. But that was years ago, before her family moved away to chase bigger opportunities, and you were left behind with only memories of her bright laugh and unshakable confidence.
Life moved on, and so did you. By high school, she’d become little more than a bittersweet memory. Until now.
When she walks into your homeroom on the first day of senior year, it feels like the air’s been knocked out of you. She’s taller now, with an effortless grace that makes the room go quiet. Her uniform looks somehow sharper on her, her long, dark hair falling in perfect waves. There’s something in the way she carries herself—poised and self-assured, like she owns the world—and maybe she does.
Her family name has become a symbol of power and wealth. She’s been in the headlines, her achievements as a youth advocate already earning her a reputation as a fierce voice for justice. And yet, when her gaze scans the room and lands on you, her face lights up with the same brilliant smile you remember from childhood.
“Hey,” she says as she slides into the empty seat beside you, her voice low and familiar. “Long time no see.”
You’re too stunned to do anything but nod.
You quickly learn that she’s not just here for nostalgia—she’s here with a purpose. Between rigorous AP classes, she’s working on a project to bring awareness to systemic issues in your town. Meetings, interviews, and late nights at the library seem to be her norm, and it doesn’t take long for her to rope you into helping.
At first, it feels surreal being around her again. The girl you once knew has grown into someone so driven, so ambitious, that it’s almost intimidating. She seems untouchable, like a shooting star too far away to reach.
But every now and then, the cracks in her polished armor show. When it’s just the two of you poring over notes at your kitchen table, she leans back with a sigh and pulls her hair into a ponytail, muttering about how she wishes she had more time to breathe. And when you laugh at her frustrations, she throws a crumpled piece of paper at you, her grin wide and mischievous.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says one evening, her eyes soft as they meet yours. “Still the only person who can make me laugh when I want to scream.”
It’s during one of these late-night sessions that the air between you shifts. You’re sitting on the floor of her family’s impossibly grand living room, surrounded by papers and laptops. She’s wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for her, a far cry from the polished image she presents to the world, and you can’t help but think about how beautiful she looks like this—unguarded and real.
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she says, tilting her head to look at you. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” you lie, your heart racing under her gaze.
She raises an eyebrow, leaning closer. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.”
You hesitate, your pulse hammering in your ears. “It’s just… I can’t believe you’re here. That after all these years, we’re… us again.”
Her expression softens, and she shifts closer until your knees are almost touching. “I’ve missed you too, you know,” she says quietly. “It’s been so hard, being away from everything I used to care about. From you.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You want to say something—anything—but the way she’s looking at you steals the breath from your lungs. Her dark eyes search yours, and for a moment, the world seems to still.
“Do you ever think about those nights we spent under the stars?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
You nod, swallowing hard. “All the time.”
“I do too,” she admits, her hand reaching out to brush against yours. Her touch is warm, grounding, and yet it sends a jolt through you. “Back then, I always thought we’d have forever. And when I left, I realized how much I hated being wrong about that.”
You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly the space between you disappears. Her hand lingers on yours, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin, and you’re acutely aware of how close her face is to yours.
“Tell me if this is okay,” she murmurs, her voice trembling just slightly.
You nod, barely able to speak. “It’s more than okay.”
And then her lips are on yours, soft and hesitant at first, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t. You lean into her, your hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, and the kiss deepens—sweet and full of years’ worth of unspoken feelings.
When you finally pull back, she rests her forehead against yours, a breathless smile on her lips. “I’ve waited so long to do that,” she says, her voice tinged with relief.
“Me too,” you whisper, your heart soaring.
As the night stretches on, you realize that the girl you thought you’d lost has come back into your life, not as the same person she once was, but as someone even more extraordinary. And for the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel so uncertain—it feels full of possibilities, with her by your side.
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— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader
You’ve worked hard to get where you are. Every meeting attended, every speech prepared, every carefully crafted decision—it’s all been for the sake of keeping order in the chaos of your high school. As class president, your name carries weight. You’re the dependable one, the one who keeps everything running smoothly, the one who always has things under control.
Until Jinx shows up.
The whispers start on her first day. The new girl. The one who doesn’t seem to care about blending in. She strides into the building like she owns it, her uniform already disheveled, her blazer slung over her shoulder, and a wild grin on her face.
It doesn’t take long for her reputation to spread. She’s unpredictable, impulsive, and utterly magnetic. Within a week, she’s already broken half the school’s rules, talked her way out of three detentions, and somehow charmed half your classmates in the process.
And for some reason, she’s decided you’re her favorite target.
It happens during lunch. You’re sitting at your usual spot, surrounded by student council members, going over plans for the upcoming fundraiser when she walks up to your table.
“Class president,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery and something else you can’t quite place. “Mind if I join you?”
You glance up, already annoyed. “I’m busy.”
She smirks, pulling out a chair anyway. “That’s cute. You think I was asking.”
Your friends exchange uneasy glances, but she doesn’t seem to care. She leans back in the chair, her sharp pink eyes locked on you, as if she’s trying to unravel you with her gaze alone.
“You’ve got a real stick-up-your-ass vibe,” she says casually, plucking an apple from the tray in front of her. “I like that. It makes messing with you way more fun.”
You glare at her, trying to keep your composure. “Do you need something, or are you just here to waste my time?”
Her grin widens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something wild and untamed in her expression. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”
She becomes a constant in your life after that. You find her waiting outside your classroom, lounging against your locker, or casually walking into student council meetings as if she belongs there.
“Do you ever stop?” you snap one afternoon, cornering her in the hallway after she’s disrupted yet another meeting.
“Stop what?” she asks innocently, tilting her head.
“Whatever game you’re playing.”
She steps closer, and for the first time, you notice just how intense her gaze is. “Who says it’s a game? Maybe I just like you.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and electric, and before you can respond, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, utterly baffled.
It’s not until much later that you start to see the cracks in her chaotic facade. One night, you find her sitting alone in the empty music room, the piano keys beneath her fingers. She’s not playing, just pressing random notes, her usual manic energy replaced by a quiet stillness.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you say, stepping into the room.
She doesn’t look up. “Neither should you.”
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I bet you think I’m crazy.”
You hesitate, caught off guard by the vulnerability in her voice. “I think you’re reckless and impulsive and… exhausting. But no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”
She finally looks up at you, her eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”
“I’m not nice,” you counter. “I just… I think there’s more to you than the act you put on.”
Her lips twitch into a small, almost shy smile. “Careful, president. You keep saying things like that, and I might start to believe you.”
The more time you spend around her, the more you realize how deeply she feels everything. Her chaos isn’t just for show—it’s a shield, a way to keep people from getting too close. But with you, she starts to let her guard down.
One evening, she shows up outside your house, her hair messy and her eyes wild. “Come with me,” she says, grabbing your hand.
“Where are we going?” you ask, letting her drag you down the street.
“Anywhere,” she replies, her grip tight. “Everywhere. I don’t care.”
You end up at the park, sitting on a swingset as the stars blink overhead. She’s unusually quiet, her hands gripping the chains tightly as she stares at the ground.
“You ever feel like you’re spinning out of control?” she asks suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
You glance at her, surprised by the question. “Sometimes.”
She exhales shakily, her fingers brushing against yours. “You… you make it stop. Just for a little while.”
Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t know if it’s the raw honesty in her words or the way her fingers linger against yours, but you feel something shift between you.
It happens later that night, as you’re walking her home. She stops in front of her house, turning to face you with an unreadable expression.
“Why do you put up with me?” she asks suddenly, her voice soft.
You frown. “What do you mean?”
“I’m a mess,” she says, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I break things, I hurt people… I’m not like you. I’m not good.”
“You’re not perfect,” you admit, stepping closer. “But you’re not as bad as you think you are, either.”
She looks up at you, her eyes shining with something you can’t quite name. “You’re going to regret saying that.”
“Maybe,” you say with a small smile. “But I don’t think so.”
Before you can overthink it, you lean in, your lips brushing against hers. She freezes for a moment, like she’s caught off guard, but then she kisses you back, her hands clutching at your sleeves as if you’re the only solid thing in her world.
When you finally pull back, her face is flushed, and she’s breathing hard. “You’re insane,” she mutters, though there’s no heat in her words.
“Takes one to know one,” you reply, grinning.
She laughs, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time, you feel like you’ve truly seen her—every broken, beautiful piece of her.
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—Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader
You weren’t thrilled when your teacher assigned you as her tutor. You’d heard all the rumors: skipped classes, biting comebacks that left people reeling, and a permanent spot on the troublemaker watchlist.
Her reputation painted her as unteachable, untamable, and entirely uninterested in anything resembling authority. When your teacher insisted she “just needed guidance,” you couldn’t help but feel skeptical.
The first session confirmed it.
She slouched into the library ten minutes late, her bag dragging on the floor, and dropped into the chair across from you with a loud huff.
“Look,” she said before you could even greet her, “I don’t need some perfect little know-it-all telling me what to do.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “I’m just here to help.”
“Sure,” she scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s get this over with.”
Her tone was cutting, her expression bored, and yet… there was something about her. A quiet intensity lurking beneath the surface, like she was daring you to break through her tough exterior.
Each session felt like a test of patience. She was sharp, no question about it, but her attitude made every interaction a battle.
“You’re not even trying,” you said one afternoon after she tossed her pen aside for the third time.
Her eyes snapped to yours, hard and unyielding. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said coldly. “You think I don’t try? You think I don’t bust my ass every single day?”
You froze, startled by the edge in her voice.
She leaned forward, her gaze cutting through you like a blade. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I’m here because they told me to be.”
For a moment, you considered walking away. But then you saw it—just the faintest flicker of something vulnerable beneath her defiance.
“You’re right,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “I don’t know you. But I know you’re capable of more than this.”
Her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her fingers drumming on the table. “Whatever,” she muttered.
But she didn’t leave.
Slowly, things started to shift. She showed up on time—barely. She started taking notes—reluctantly. And every so often, she’d let her tough exterior slip, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the real her.
One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session, you handed her a worksheet.
“You’re getting better,” you said, offering her a small smile.
She snorted. “Don’t get all sentimental on me.”
“I’m not. I’m just saying you’re improving.”
“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath for a thank-you card,” she replied, but there was a hint of a smirk on her lips.
Her walls were still up, but they were starting to crack.
It happened on a rare quiet day in the library. She was hunched over her notebook, her brow furrowed as she worked through a particularly tricky problem.
“Got it,” she said suddenly, sitting up straight.
“Really?” you asked, leaning over to check her work.
She shoved the notebook toward you, her smirk firmly in place. “Told you I’m not dumb.”
“I never said you were dumb,” you replied, meeting her gaze. “You just make things harder than they need to be.”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I like a challenge.”
“Or maybe you’re just stubborn,” you teased.
Her smirk softened, just for a moment. “Takes one to know one, princess.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the way she said it, her voice low and almost… fond.
After weeks of late afternoons spent together, you found yourself walking her home one evening. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the quiet streets.
“You’re not as bad as I thought,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
You blinked, surprised. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Don’t push your luck,” she shot back, though her tone lacked its usual bite.
When you reached her house, she stopped at the gate, turning to face you. Her usual confidence wavered, just slightly.
“Why do you bother with me?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.
“Because I see how hard you work,” you said honestly. “And because I think there’s more to you than what you let people see.”
She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she stepped closer, her hand brushing yours.
“You’re a real pain, you know that?” she murmured, her voice soft but firm.
Before you could respond, she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as bold and unapologetic as she was.
When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, but her smirk was firmly in place.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, turning toward her door.
You smiled, your heart racing. “Too late."
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—Artist!ekko and Muse!reader
It was one of those golden autumn afternoons, the kind where the sunlight made everything look softer, warmer, like it belonged in a painting. You’d escaped to the park during your lunch break, clutching a well-worn book in one hand and a coffee in the other. It wasn’t the first time you’d come here for a little peace and quiet, but it felt like one of the rare times you’d actually get it.
You settled on a bench near the fountain, a cozy corner of the park where the only sounds were the gentle trickle of water and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
The moment you opened your book, however, you felt it—a faint, almost electric sensation prickling at the edge of your awareness. Someone was watching you.
Glancing up, you spotted him.
He was sitting on the grass a few yards away, sketchpad balanced on his knees, pencil flying across the page. His hair fell messily across his forehead, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms speckled with faint smears of paint. Despite the chaos of his appearance, his focus was absolute, his gaze darting between you and the paper as if you were some rare discovery he couldn’t afford to lose.
You furrowed your brow, unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “Can I help you?” you called, your voice cutting through the quiet.
He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and stood quickly.
“Sorry,” he said, striding toward you. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
His voice was smooth, tinged with an earnestness that made it hard to stay annoyed.
“I’m an artist,” he explained, gesturing to his sketchpad. “I know this sounds weird, but you’ve got this… look. The way you’re sitting, the way the light hits you—it’s perfect.”
“Perfect?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“For a piece I’m working on,” he clarified, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Do you mind if I sketch you? Just for a little while.”
You hesitated, studying him. He didn’t look like a creep—just young, maybe a little unkempt, with an intensity in his eyes that was hard to ignore.
“I’m not really dressed for a portrait,” you said, gesturing to your casual sweater and jeans.
He smiled, and the way his face softened surprised you. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s the way you carry yourself.”
The compliment was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. “Alright,” you said slowly. “But just for a few minutes.”
“Great,” he said, dropping to the bench across from you with a grin that felt like the sun breaking through the clouds
It turned out he was a prodigy, a young artist with a growing reputation in the city. His work had been featured in galleries, and he’d even won a few prestigious awards. But for all his talent, he was surprisingly down-to-earth.
“I don’t really like the whole ‘genius’ label,” he admitted one afternoon after convincing you to pose for him again. “It just makes people think I’ve got everything figured out. But most of the time, I’m just trying to keep up with my own ideas.”
You quickly realized that his art wasn’t just a skill—it was his lifeline. He spoke about it the way others might talk about breathing. And for some reason, he’d decided that you were his muse.
“Why me?” you asked one day as he sketched you in his studio. The walls were covered with half-finished canvases, each one brimming with vivid colors and raw emotion.
He glanced up from his sketchbook, his eyes soft but focused. “You’ve got something about you,” he said simply. “A kind of… light. I can’t explain it, but when I see you, I want to create.”
His honesty was disarming. There was no pretense in his words, no calculated charm. He spoke as though his heart was an open book, and every word was written in your honor.
“Do you say that to all your muses?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment.
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I’ve never had one before you.”
As time went on, you got to know him beyond his talent. He was fiercely independent, refusing to rely on anyone for his success. His compassion, however, was what surprised you most. He spent his weekends teaching art classes at a local youth center, his eyes lighting up as he helped kids discover their own creativity.
“They’ve got so much potential,” he said once, his voice filled with quiet pride. “They just need someone to believe in them.”
It was clear that he poured himself into everything he did, whether it was a painting, a lesson, or simply spending time with you.
One evening, he invited you to his studio after hours. The space was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of paint and turpentine.
“I want to show you something,” he said, guiding you to the center of the room where a large canvas stood covered by a cloth.
With a dramatic flourish, he pulled the cloth away, revealing a breathtaking painting. It was you—your pose, your expression, every detail captured with such tenderness that it felt like staring into a mirror of your soul.
“Is that… me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, his gaze steady. “It’s not just you,” he said softly. “It’s how I see you. Strong, radiant… inspiring.”
Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.
“It’s beautiful,” you said finally, your voice thick with emotion.
“So are you,” he replied, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile.
There was no grand confession, no dramatic moment where everything changed. Instead, your relationship grew in quiet, unspoken ways. The way he brought you coffee when you visited his studio. The way he asked for your opinion on his work, genuinely valuing your thoughts. The way his hand would brush against yours when he passed you a sketchbook, his touch lingering just a second too long.
One day, as you sat together in the park where you’d first met, he turned to you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.
“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I’m not sure I’d be able to do this without you.”
“Do what?” you asked, tilting your head.
“Create,” he replied simply. “You make it… easier to believe in myself.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering at his honesty. “I think you’d do just fine on your own.”
“Maybe,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I don’t want to.”
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—Bestfriend!jayce
The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. From elementary school to your final year of high school, your lives had been stitched together with countless shared moments—late-night study sessions, chaotic group projects, and lazy afternoons spent at the local diner. You were the grounded one, the planner, while he was the dreamer.
He was everything you admired in a person: ambitious, creative, and unrelentingly passionate about making the world a better place. Whether he was organizing a charity event for the school or advocating for a greener campus, he didn’t just talk about change—he embodied it.
“Alright, hear me out,” he said one afternoon as you sat in your favorite spot in the school library. His voice was alive with energy, his words spilling out faster than you could process them.
You glanced up from your notes, already bracing yourself. “This is going to be another one of your big ideas, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” he said with a grin. “It’s what I do best.”
He leaned forward, spreading out a sketchbook filled with colorful doodles and bold handwriting. Each page was a mix of blueprints, campaign slogans, and notes for an initiative he wanted to pitch to the student council.
“I’m telling you, if we can pull this off, it could really make a difference. We could partner with local businesses, raise money for community programs, and even involve the younger students—”
“You’re going a hundred miles an hour again,” you interrupted gently, a smile tugging at your lips.
“Not when I’m onto something good,” he replied without missing a beat.
That was him in a nutshell: a whirlwind of ideas and determination, always moving forward. It was both inspiring and exhausting to keep up with him, but somehow, you always did.
For all his big ideas and boundless enthusiasm, he had a softer side too—a side he reserved just for you.
One Friday night, he showed up outside your house, honking his car horn until you came outside in your pajamas.
“What are you doing?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure your neighbors weren’t watching.
“Get in,” he said with a grin, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “I need your opinion on something.”
“You’re insane,” you muttered, but you climbed into the passenger seat anyway.
He drove to a quiet hill on the outskirts of town, parking near an old tree you’d both claimed as “your spot” years ago. He pulled out a notebook from his bag and handed it to you.
“These are my ideas for the youth outreach program,” he said. “I need to know if I’m being too ambitious.”
You flipped through the pages, your heart warming as you saw the effort he’d poured into every word and sketch.
“This is incredible,” you said softly. “You’re not just ambitious—you’re inspiring. People are going to listen to you.”
He looked at you, his expression unreadable. “You really think so?”
“Always,” you said, your voice firm.
For a split second, you thought he might reach out to take your hand, but instead, he leaned back, staring up at the stars. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
After particularly grueling school days, he’d find you at your locker, holding out your favorite drink or snack without a word. When the stress of finals hit, he’d sit beside you in the library, quietly working through his own assignments while offering words of encouragement.
And then there were the moments when his usual confidence wavered.
“Do you think I’m crazy?” he asked one evening as you sat on the hood of his car, staring up at the stars.
The two of you had just spent hours planning his latest project, a school-wide fundraiser for a local shelter. Despite his ambitious plans, his voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.
“You? Crazy?” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Absolutely.”
He laughed softly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t completely fade.
“Seriously, though,” he said, turning to you. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m aiming too high. Like, what if I can’t actually pull all this off? What if I fail?”
You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You won’t fail. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. And even if something doesn’t work out the way you planned, it doesn’t mean you failed. It just means you’re brave enough to try again.”
His gaze softened, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.
“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The moment lingered, and as he pulled back, his hands stayed on your shoulders. His gaze searched yours, and for the first time, you saw a vulnerability there that he usually kept hidden.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while now,” he began, his voice soft but steady.
Your breath caught. “What is it?”
“I don’t just care about you as a friend,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I mean, I do, but it’s more than that. You’ve always been my anchor, the one person who gets me, who believes in me even when I doubt myself.”
Your heart raced, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. “I think I’ve always felt the same way,” you said quietly.
Relief washed over his face, followed by a smile so genuine it made your chest ache.
“Then we’re in this together,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Like always.”
From that day on, your friendship transformed into something deeper, something stronger. His dreams grew bigger, but now, they weren’t just his—they were yours too. Together, you were unstoppable, a team bound by shared passion and a love that had been years in the making.
Whether it was planning for college or brainstorming ways to change the world, one thing was certain: with him by your side, anything felt possible.
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—Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader
From the moment the new kid transferred to your school, it was as if the universe had dropped a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. He was a contradiction: introverted yet razor-sharp in class discussions, quiet but with an undercurrent of passion that seemed to burst through in unexpected moments. His snarky comebacks and aloof demeanor were practically tailor-made to clash with your confident, no-nonsense approach to everything.
You couldn’t help but notice how he kept his distance from everyone else, often retreating to the farthest corner of the library or lab. Despite his unassuming presence, he somehow managed to infuriate you with his brilliance. Teachers fawned over him, classmates whispered about him, and you? You glared daggers at him every time he raised his hand in class to counter one of your arguments.
The first real confrontation happened in science class. It was a group project, and your teacher, in a cruel twist of fate, paired you with him.
“Great,” you muttered under your breath.
He barely glanced at you as he set down his notebook, already flipping through its pages. “It’s not my favorite pairing either, but let’s just get this done.”
His tone was clipped, and his eyes barely met yours.
“Oh, so we’re starting with passive-aggressive remarks? Good to know where we stand,” you shot back, folding your arms.
He sighed, finally looking at you. “Look, I don’t care if you like me or not. I care about getting an A on this project. If you want to argue, fine, but at least do it while we’re running the experiment.”
His bluntness took you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. But you quickly recovered, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you take over.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered under his breath, already scribbling in his notebook.
Working together was like a storm brewing in slow motion. You were both stubborn and headstrong, constantly butting heads over the smallest details.
“Why are you doing it that way?” you snapped one afternoon as he adjusted the settings on the experiment’s apparatus.
“Because it’s the correct way,” he replied without looking up.
“You didn’t even let me explain my idea!”
“Your idea would’ve blown up the circuit.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t know that.”
“Let me guess—you’re the kind of person who thinks trial and error is the only way to learn?”
He finally turned to face you, a faint smirk playing at his lips “And you’re the kind of person who thinks you’re always right,”
The tension crackled like static electricity, but neither of you backed down.
It wasn’t until a late-night study session in the empty library that things started to shift. The project deadline was looming, and you’d reluctantly agreed to meet outside of school to finish your work.
He was unusually quiet that night, his usual snark absent as he stared intently at the data on his laptop.
“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. “You okay?”
He hesitated, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. “Just tired. And frustrated. I want this to be perfect.”
Something in his tone softened your usual defensiveness. “You know, it doesn’t have to be perfect. You’re allowed to mess up sometimes.”
He gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Not really. Not when people are counting on me.”
The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. For the first time, you saw past the walls he’d built around himself—the pressure he carried, the weight of expectations.
“I didn’t realize you were dealing with so much,” you said quietly.
He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Why would you? We’ve been too busy trying to outsmart each other.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Fair point. Maybe we should call a truce—for now.”
He smiled, just barely, and it was the first time you’d seen him let his guard down.
As the project progressed, the two of you started to find common ground. You discovered his love for science wasn’t just about theories and equations—it was about helping people.
“Why are you so passionate about this?” you asked one day as he carefully calibrated a piece of equipment.
He hesitated, then said, “Because I want to make a difference. I has a chronic illness, and I’ve spent years struggling with treatments that barely work. I want to change that for me, and for anyone else going through the same thing.”
His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You’d always thought of him as cold and detached, but now, you saw the fire that drove him.
“That’s… incredible,” you said softly.
He shrugged, his cheeks tinged with color. “It’s just what I care about. What about you? What drives you?”
You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. But as you opened up about your own dreams and ambitions, you realized something had shifted between you.
On the night before the project was due, you were sitting in his garage, putting the final touches on your presentation. It was late, and the two of you were running on caffeine and adrenaline.
“Here,” he said, handing you a mug of tea. “You’re going to burn out if you keep pushing yourself.”
“Look who’s talking,” you teased, taking the mug.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the garage filling the space.
“You’re not so bad, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice low.
You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your idea of a compliment?”
He smiled faintly, looking down at his hands. “I mean it. I’ve never met anyone who challenges me the way you do. It’s… refreshing.”
Your cheeks warmed, and you looked away, pretending to focus on the data. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’m not going easy on you just because you’re finally being nice.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that made your heart race.
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puppys-rhythm-heaven · 2 years ago
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from what I've seen a lot of people don't like fanclub (og and sequel) tho, either for its strict-ass timing or the song (I unironically think it's really sweet though), either way, fan club 2 my beloved. That ask was mostly about overhated games like rhythm rally (og and sequel, ESPECIALLY sequel, it's so fun) and ds remixes (remix 6 my beloved) Oh, and finding keep-the-beat games easy, esp lockstep, which isn't really a matter of taste but I suppose it counts
bestie idk how to tell you this but people generally like rhythm rally, they just also think it's hard (/lh)- good point on fan club though, idk why people complain about thrilling! is this love? so much tbh it's one of my favorite songs tbh. n ds' remixes are the best remixes idk why people complain about them either (idk people think they're too repetitive. don't really see how that's a bad thing-).
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loserlvrss · 11 days ago
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.. 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 ( 钟.𝐂𝐋 )
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( 一月 ). ──who knew putting on face masks with your boyfriend, chenle, would lead you here? spoiler: he did. 钟辰乐 &fem!rea. ⟡ drabble, smut warn. language, dry humping, skinship wc : 649HUN 노트 zhong chenle save me
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You readjusted on your boyfriend’s lap, straddling his hips. He had his back to the headboard, staring up at you with an exposed neck.
The sight was familiar, however the circumstances were quite…the opposite.
“Stay still,” You commanded, aligning the holes in the slimy mask with his eyes and mouth. He let out a breathy laugh, hands squeezing the flesh of your hips.
“It’s kind of hard when you’re sitting on me,” He replied, smoothing his hands over your bare legs, sending a shiver down your spine. “Especially, when you’re in nothing but my hoodie.”
He furthered his hands over your thighs, tempting you with the pleasure you’d usually be feeling while atop him.
“Shut up,” You replied, “Just let me finish putting this on and I’ll get off.”
However, he didn’t want you to get off. It was a dangerous game he was playing, one that had you rather distracted.
“I wish I could kiss you,” He remarked, dragging his fingers over your stomach and up your sides casually. “But, you wanted this.” He was referring to the cutely-printed sheet against his skin.
Your breath was shortening with every fleeting touch, ones that he knew made you crave more. The beating in your chest was loud and you wondered if he could hear it, or feel it somewhere else.
“Chenle,” You warned, flattening the bumps and creases in the material; the glide easy with all the excess serum. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” He asked innocently, your hands falling around his neck. You deadpanned through your own animal-print. “I’m not doing anything.”
Your boyfriend looked quite adorable with the tiger sheet mask on, which you had recently bought and had been keeping in the fridge for self care night (plus Chenle). So, why were you so turned on?
“Fifteen minutes,” And then, from zero to a hundred—like the wind was getting knocked out of you—one particularly hard pull had your eyes rolling back and your sentence being cut short.
Your stomach was in knots instantly, head leveling again from being thrown back. There was a shit-eating grin on his face. He was winning the game he started, that was for certain.
Chenle did it again, pushing your hips against his lap and making you moan out softly. “Le…please,”
You could feel everything: How hard he was getting, how wet you were getting, how suffocating this stupid face mask was starting to feel.
Relaxing, my ass.
His voice had a mock-softness to it, “Please what, baby?”
However, you didn’t give in, “Set a timer.”
He rocked you forward again, and then back, and then repeated it until you were moving at a steady rhythm. His fingers dug into the skin of your ass, guiding the movements easily.
Chenle completely ignored your request, too caught up in the way you started to leave a wet patch against the gray fabric. He could feel it, so he knew you could too.
It was too much, he groaned at the sight. “Fuck,”
You huffed, biting your lip raw. A whimper escaped your throat at the small noises he was also trying to conceal. But, you both were just as bad as the other.
“Chenle,” You whispered, not being able to force anything higher out. The feeling of your clit being stimulated by the fabric of your panties against his sweats was enough for you. And, maybe it was all the tension he built that had you toppling to the edge early—not that he minded.
“Yeah, baby? You close?” He smirked, knowing that the grip you had against him was a telltale sign of yours, “You can come. Go ahead.”
And you really did, his (your forced) movements continuing after your thighs attempted to close around his hips. Obviously, to no avail.
Your hands pressed against his chest, lower stomach, arms, anything to get him to stop dragging you back and forth like a ragdoll.
“Too much,” You mewled at the overstimulation, “S-stop it.”
“No,” He simply said, “There’s still about twelve minutes left.”
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© loserlvrss 2025. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.
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mommynott · 2 months ago
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Training Tease
Theodore Nott x Reader
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Summary: You head over to a new gym, finding yourself slowly losing control with one of the trainers The start of trainer!theo
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, Chars 18+, Modern AU, trainer!theo, tension, build up, flirting, mind games, dirty thoughts, Theo wanting to rail you on the fucking squat rack
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The gym is buzzing with the usual hum of clanking weights and the faint music overhead, but something…or rather, someone…catches Theo’s eye. He’d been used to the same faces, the same routines, but today? There’s a new presence…something that stands out.
You.
You’re stretching at the far end of the gym and damn. Every move you make is like an invitation for Theodore. The way your body flows…Fluid and flexible, sends a jolt of electricity through Theo. Your juicy, perfectly sculpted ass is the first thing his eyes lock onto. The tight leggings you’re wearing cling to every curve perfectly.
But you? You were lost in the music that blurred through your headphones. Getting ready for the pump of the workout to come as you warmed up. Staring at your reflection in the mirror while you finished up your stretch. Theo on the other hand, was watching you, checking you out from head to toe. The way your top slightly lifts, showing the arch of your back. His hungry eyes follow the line of your spine all the way down to your thick thighs.
Taking you all In.
Leaning against the edge of the dumbbell rack, Theodore casually watched as you strode over to the squat rack. His arms crossed over his chest while his muscles flexed with ease. The way your body moved up and down, that sculpted to the gods fucking ass perking with each effortless rep. Fuck, you’re insanely sexy.
For a moment, Theo forgot about his training schedule. His mind is fixed on you, taking in every fucking detail. You’re focused, lost in your own rhythm. Completely unaware of the way he can’t keep his darkened eyes off of you. Finally, he pushes himself off of the rack, stalking over to where you’re working out. You feel the weight of Theodore’s stare, it’s both enticing and lingering but you don’t break your pace. Noticing the trainer, his muscles, his aura.
You glance up for the first time, your gaze meeting Theo’s in the mirror. There’s a brief pause and Theo can’t help but smirk. It’s a challenge for him, a silent invitation. But he's well aware of this from the way you carry yourself. He leans in just enough, his voice low and teasing. “Need a spot?” The rough Italian accent could have melted you into a puddle.
You don’t answer right away, building up the anticipation but your lips twitch like you’re deciding how much to play along. Damn, he’s pretty fucking hot. “I think I’ve got it covered.” you finally murmur, playing hard to get before continuing with your squatting. Theo’s tongue glided on the inside of his cheek. Liking the challenge already.
That’s the thing with you, You’re confident, self-assured. You don’t need help. But fuck. I’d let this guy help me. In more ways than just working out. Theo simply nodded his head, stepping back as he let his gaze linger on the curve of your ass while he let out a low chuckle. Admiring you yet having a taunting and challenging look in his eyes.
“Oh…I’m sure you do…but, I see you’re not as in control as you think.”
You don’t flinch. Instead, you just keep going with your steady movements, trying to keep that confident aura that you always lived up to. But your body was reacting to the attractive man behind you. Little did you know…You weren’t just working out anymore…you were about to play with fucking fire.
“Is that so?” you reply through a little huff as you mount the squat rack. Crossing your arms over your chest, that bratty gaze of yours locking up with Theo’s. It has an edge to it, almost telling on yourself from it. Showing how much you were enjoying this banter already.
He takes a step closer to you, feeling the tension charging between you both. “Yeah…You are pretty damn strong. I can see that…” Theo places his hands on either side of you onto the metal bar, his sly smirk only growing at you through the mirror. “…But…there’s more to strength than just muscle. There’s also control…and right now?”
His breath was hot against the side of your neck, turning your head ever so slightly to finally meet up with his gaze. Blue. Ocean blue. Fuck me. You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. He’s not breaking me…yet. “I think you’re fighting it…” he finally replied, clicking his tongue against his teeth, the European accent dripping from his lips.
Your breath catches ever so slightly, shifting your weight to one leg as you reach down for your water bottle. Popping it open as you took a quick sip. Theo fixated on the way your lips wrapped around the top, thinking of the way those lush fucking lips would look wrapped around his cock— “What even makes you think I’m fighting it?” Scoffing out but in a teasing manner, Theo nodded his head down at you.
“Your posture. The way you fight against the weight instead of controlling it…here, I can help.” Theodore knew exactly what he was doing. You were falling into his trap with ease. For a moment you debate on it before finally shaking your head. “What? You think you can help control me?” You worded it this way purposefully, seeing how he’d react. Letting another soft scoff out. But the brattiness was only turning him on more, pulling Theo in.
“Oh, I know I can-“
He began as he took a step back, checking you out fully and making it clear. Theo had a way of showing his intentions without even saying a word. “-I saw the way you move... And I know exactly how to push you to your limits…Trainer and all.”
Motioning to himself, this was gym talk but fuck, you knew there was more to it. There had to be and You weren’t backing down. You fucking wanted this, and Theo was ready to give you more than just one on one training sessions.
“Prove it.” You dare him, a smirk of your own forming on your face. Without missing a beat, Theo reaches down for your hands, placing them back on the bar as his own veiny strong hands grip over yours.
Just the touch of skin. That little connection between you two sends a shiver down your spine. Theo feels it, that slight shudder, the way your pulse quickens under his fingertips. But You don’t pull away. You let it happen.
Eyeing down the weight to make sure it wasn’t too much, his stare met with yours in the reflection once more. “I’ll prove it.” His voice coming out almost growl-like just as he dropped his hands from yours, prepping to spot you. Theodore was so close to you that you could practically feel his body heat radiating onto yours. Who the fuck was this trainer?
You inhale, steadying your grip on the bar, but there was something in your eyes now—something soft behind that fierce confidence you always held. You knew what he was offering, something more than just a simple workout, and you were very fucking tempted. “Let’s see if you really can control me, muscles.”
You teased the little nickname, Theo was eating up this little game you both were now playing. Fucking savoring it like a sweet treat. “Oh you’re going to regret that, ragazza…I’m not one to back down from a challenge.” His tone came out darker, more eager than before. But fuck, you were loving the attention he was giving you. The banter you both were in on now.
“-You ready?”
With a simple nod of your head, you began your first squat, feeling his firm hands drop to the sides of your waist. Your lips slightly parted as your eyes flickered to Theo’s in the mirror. He guided you back into a standing position. The heat between you both only rising.
Of course, it’s physical but it has a raw energy to it. Making your chest tighten. “Tight…keep your core tight…” Whispering lowly, his rugged accent was making you sweat more than just the workout….Feeling a slight dampness spread in your panties.
“—Mhhhhm” Managing to mumble out you go into your next squat, listening to what Theo had said, but fuck. You just pictured him on top of you, saying something else was tight. Your mind became fuzzy with the dirtiest thoughts of a man you had just met. He stays quiet, watching you. Your body. Almost as if he was taking a mental photo of every single inch of you.
You sink back down into your squat. Your body flexes, you want to show off for Theo…and he was fucking mesmerized by the way you moved. You’re still pushing yourself of course. But now? Now you’ve given him permission to see the effort, to see the control you’re letting slip…slowly but surely. This was the control Theo really wanted to see. How easy you’d let go for him. A test. If he could break you this easily here then anything else would be a piece of cake.
“Is this good?”
Breathing out, you mount the squat rack before turning around to look up at Theodore. The way he’s towering over your small frame. Your hands reach up to your ponytail, tightening it through the soft pants that escaped your lips. But fuck did Theo want to see you pant for him in other aspects. “Very…Very good.” The words came out a bit more bold and flirtatious this time.
Your heart pounding against your heaving chest, and not just from the damn squats. A small and cute smile tugging on your lips. “You sure know how to make a girl work.” Turning up the playfulness, you giggled. Theo finding this and you all too adorable but…also knowing he had you right in the palm of his hand.
“Trust me…This is just the beginning.”
And it was. This was the start of something new. Something exhilarating. Something that would have you both addicted. Wanting more. Craving more. You were in for a wild ride ahead, little did you know what would come next…
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TRAINER FUCKING THEOOOOOOO
I hope my sexy smut sluts liked this one because just wait..👀
Requests and asks are open sweet peas💋
Divider pinned in my masterlist🌙
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junipaca · 2 years ago
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i love athena cykes with my heart and soul u know this and i adore a bunch of the new characters too but duel destinies is a game that feels so shoehorned (due to the time of intervening on apollo’s own story) at the wrong time. Like i wish we could have finished the trilogy of apollo at least. I WISH we knew more about kristoph. i wish we got more of klavier. of a proper shu takumi style ending for the guy. i will forever grieve.
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dailymanners · 8 months ago
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I feel as though in the past few years it's becoming more common for me to be interrupted while I'm speaking, and I can't help but wonder if more people are losing a sense of conversational rhythm due to communicating more and more digitally and less and less in person.
When you communicate digitally you don't have to worry about finding the natural rhythm of the conversation, you're not taking away someone else's ability to finish their thought or make their point if you send a message to them while they're still typing. I'm not here to scare monger about the kids and their phones, but it's important that you don't let your skill of finding a conversational rhythm, if you have that skill, atrophy, lest you speak over someone and take away their ability to complete their thought and make their point.
But I also realize that it's really important to specify what I mean by interrupting someone.
When someone says that interrupting is really normal and not considered rude in their community or culture, what they're actually talking about is what's known in linguistics as "cooperative overlap", that or simultaneous talking. Here's an example of cooperative overlap and/or simultaneous talking that you might see in a culture where this is normal and acceptable:
Person A: So guess where I went today? I went to the -
Person B: Oh let me take a wild guess! You went to the shoe store again didn't you?
Person A: That's right, and I got a -
Person C: Oh come on, don't tell you got another pair!
Person A: You know it baby!
Now let's compare that to a different style of interruption, what I like to call "steamrolling"
Person A: So guess where I went today? I went to the -
Person B: UGH did you guys catch the game last night?
Person C: Yeah the refs sucked!
Now, what differences can you see between the first example, aka "cooperative overlapping" vs the second "steamrolling" example?
For one, in the first example Person A is still allowed to make their point, tell their story, and finish their thought. They're not being silenced or completely derailed, and most importantly their conversation partners still seem interested and engaged in what they have to say. In the second example, Person A is being completely derailed and stripped of their chance to finish their thought and make their point, which is unfair to Person A, which is what makes "steamrolling" disrespectful even in many cultures and communities where "cooperative overlapping" would be acceptable.
Now, conversational overlap isn't for everyone, and that's okay, but it makes it awkward and tricky when someone from a community or culture that uses conversational overlap talks to someone who is from a culture that doesn't. For example:
Person A: So the other day I went to -
Person B: Oh my god did you go to that one store?
Person A: Um, no, I went to the movies, and I saw -
Person B: OH did you see that new creepy movie about the aliens?
Person A: No, can I please just finish my story?
Person B: Oh, uh, sorry
Neither person will probably feel great after this conversation. And I'm not here to condemn either conversational styles. I understand why some people see cooperative overlap as a more engaging and exciting conversational style, but I also understand why some people find it frustrating. My mother's family has a cultural background big on conversational overlap, but my father's side of the family ehhh not so much, so I personally grew up seeing these two conversational styles clash a lot.
If you're person A in the above conversation who doesn't like conversational overlap, that's totally fine, I'm personally not a big fan of it either only because I have a terrible memory, so when someone disrupts my flow I usually end up completely forgetting what I want to say. Just try to recognize the difference between cooperative overlap vs steamrolling. If someone is just trying to cooperatively overlap with you, patiently and politely tell them something along the lines of "sorry I have a terrible memory so if I don't finish I'll forget what I'm trying to say". But it's generally a good idea to be more patient and understanding with conversational overlap than steamrolling.
If you're someone who cooperatively overlaps and you encounter someone who isn't a fan of it, try not to take it personally, maybe like me they have a horrible memory and will forget what they're trying to say if they get side tracked.
But what I meant earlier about conversational rhythm is that too often a lot of interrupting comes from not realizing the other person wasn't finished speaking.
For example, personal A wants to say "so the other day I went hiking, and I saw a fox" some people might not recognize when person A is actually finished speaking, typically they assume as soon as they've heard a complete clause that means the thought is finished, so the conversation goes like
Person A: So the other day I went hiking -
Person B: OH I went hiking a few weeks ago with my girlfriend but it was so slippery out!
Person C: Oh how is your girlfriend doing by the way?
Person B: She's doing great! How's your partner doing?
Do you see how this style of interruption, unlike cooperative overlap, also derails Person A and deprives Person A of a chance to finish what they want to say? It's not quite steamrolling, and often just comes from a lack of rhythm or understanding. As a general rule, if you want to avoid interrupting someone, pause for a few seconds after you think they're finished in case they aren't actually finished. This way you avoid accidentally depriving someone of the chance to finish what they want to say and completing their thought.
We should never be too eager to assume someone has finished making their point because you never know what someone might actually be trying to say, and if you cut someone off before they make their point you can miss important context. For example:
Person A: I don't think I see stray cats here -
Person B: AHA BULL FUCKING SHIT! I totally saw a stray cat the other day!
Person A: I was going to say as much as in other places if you had let me finish?
Or:
Person A: I hate when it's hot out. When I was a kid it was usually around 25 or 30 degrees Celsius in the summers -
Person B: OH come one don't be such a wimpy little baby! 25-30 degrees isn't even that warm! I've totally seen WAY hotter summers than that!
Person A: Uh, that's what I was going to say if you'd let me finish, the summers were pretty mild when I was a kid, but they're a lot hotter now . .
Do you see how in both conversations Person B was too eager to assume Person A had finished making their point and ended up missing important context? If person B had only paused and waited for Person A to finish making their point, they wouldn't have ended up making an ass of themselves to put it frankly. This style of interruption can make you come across as eager to dominate and "one up" other people, which frankly a lot of people find obnoxious and exhausting. This is different than cooperative overlapping because it comes from a place of wanting to correct or one-up your conversation partner, rather than play and/or build into what they're saying, which is why I'd argue it's closer to steamrolling.
Good conversational rhythm ideally means everyone is allowed to finish their thought and make their point, whether or not that includes overlapping or even simultaneous talking. If you're not sure someone has finished their thought, pause a few seconds to make sure they've had the chance to complete their thought, less you miss important context. OR, if you do interject, it should be about building/playing into what they're saying rather than derailing/steamrolling them.
What's important to keep in mind is that it's often a matter of power and respect when someone is or isn't allowed to finish their thought and make their point. If someone is unable to finish their thought or make their point before getting steamrolled, they're going to feel like their input to the conversation isn't valued or important, and that's never a good feeling.
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bearforcecaptions · 2 months ago
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The spell worked, sort of, but not how I wanted. I did have the body of my dreams – I was Garrett now, but I didn’t realize the catch was that I wouldn’t be able to control what I’m doing unless I’m totally alone. And Garrett, or, me, I guess – I’m nearly never alone! The frat house pretty much always has someone in it, and I’m super popular, too. I thought being Garrett would be fun and easy, but stuck like this, it’s torture!
I figured out the ritual from this old book I found at that occult shop downtown, thinking it would be a quick way out of my boring life and into something… well, something way more interesting. Garrett had it all, or so I thought. Girls loved him, he was in the best shape, and everyone wanted to be his friend. But nobody told me about this weird restriction, or maybe I just didn’t read that part carefully enough. I guess the idea was I’d “experience” Garrett’s life, but it’s like watching a movie, except I’m the star and I can only move on my own terms when no one else is around.
And god, my roommate, he’s actually so stupid. When I can’t control my actions, we bro out all the time, but he’s so vapid. I guess I’m not much better, but it’s actually infuriating. You’d think we could have a conversation that’s not about girls, parties, sports, or video games. But no, every time he starts talking, it’s like Garrett’s body just falls right into the rhythm of it, responding automatically. I tried fighting it at first, but it’s like this autopilot takes over, and I’m just... stuck.
I’ve been scouring the room whenever I get a chance to control things, like right now, looking for any sign or clue on how to undo this. There has to be something I missed. I rummaged through his messy closet, which is packed with clothes, gym stuff, and random junk, none of it useful. The guy keeps his stuff in total chaos, and I feel weirdly exposed, like I’m actually pawing through my own things.
Shit, no, is that the door jangling? I thought I would have a couple of hours to try and figure out how to fix this. Who the hell knows when I’ll get another chan-
Fuuck, bro. Why’s my roomie home early? Thought he went to his ‘rents for the weekend. I was just about to jerk one out too. Ah well, maybe he’ll be down for some Call of Duty or something. I could use a beer.
“Yo, dude, what’s up? You back already?” I say, grinning like an idiot as I lean against the door frame, flexing a bit without even realizing it. Dude probably thinks I’m just chillin’, but nah, I’m feelin' like a boss.
He laughs, dropping his bag by the door and shrugging. “Yeah, man, got bored at home. Figured I’d head back early. Parents were driving me nuts.”
“Oh, for sure, dude,” I nod, grabbing a can of beer from the mini-fridge by my bed. “Parents, am I right? They just don’t get it, bro.” I crack it open, chugging half of it in one go, feeling the cool rush. Damn, that’s good.
He slaps my shoulder, laughing. “Dude, I swear, it’s like every time I go back, it’s the same speech about responsibility and blah blah blah. Like, whatever, right?”
“Oh, totally, man,” I laugh, shrugging it off. “Why they gotta be like that, y’know? We’re just out here living, they don’t get it.” I toss him a beer, feeling that chill vibe kickin’ in, like nothing in the world matters but just hanging with my bro. This is what it’s all about – no worries, no drama, just cold beers and good times.
“Bro, I’m feelin’ a COD sesh,” I say, grabbing the controller off the couch. “You down?”
He grins. “Hell yeah, let’s wreck some noobs.”
We crash down on the couch, controllers in hand, beers in easy reach, and it’s like all the worries in the world just melt away. I’m trash-talkin’, throwin’ down taunts, and we’re both laughing so hard my sides hurt. I don’t even remember the last time I felt this alive.
“You’re so bad, dude,” I laugh, jabbing him in the ribs as I get another kill. “How are you still this bad?”
“Shut up, bro!” he shoves me back, laughing too, and I’m grinning like an idiot.
Fuck, life is good, I think, as I take a gulp of my beer. I got my bros, I got my beer, and I got my games. What more does a dude need? Life’s good.
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1pepsiboy · 9 months ago
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Falling Asleep on the Vlog - Matt Sturniolo Fluff (request)
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Matt Sturniolo x reader!
Word count: 842
POV: Third (y/n)
Warnings: nothing except caring boyfriend Matt
***
Chris and Nick are ahead of you and Matt as you all piled into the house. Nick held the camera as they continued to record. The four of you went to get the new baja blast flavor from Taco Bell. Mostly for Chris since it was his idea after he saw an ad for it. Of course, there was also a party box of tacos that came home too. 
It was a long day at work for you. There were so many (rude) customers that you dealt with, and you helped with unloading the inventory that arrived. You only agreed to leave the house because Matt had to drive and you didn’t want to be alone. Being in the vlog?… That you were even less thrilled about since you looked like an absolute disaster. And your mood was not particularly cheerful. 
But coming over to the house always played the game of are they recording now or no? Matt was usually pretty good about giving you a heads up. He forgot to do it this time, but you couldn’t put all the blame on him. It was just part of the deal with dating him and being around their work. 
You reach the top of the stairs and Matt carefully starts to lead you toward the kitchen. You let go of Matt and your lightly laced fingers. Immediately, he turns around with puppy dog eyes. The scruff he had actually somehow made it cuter and more heartbreaking. 
“Where are you going?” His voice was so soft and only loud enough for you to hear. 
“No where, just want to chill on the couch till you're done.” You shoot him a small smile. 
This only makes slight concern cross his face and he steps in closer to you. “Is everything okay?”
You kiss him on the cheek. “Yeah, work was a lot today and I’m just tired.” 
“What happened? Your manager didn’t shit on you again, did they?”
Up to this point, you had been putting up a smoke screen, holding it together for your boyfriend and his brothers so they could get content. Without warning for either of you, tears welled up and slipped down your cheeks. 
“I do s-so much… I put up with a lot from customers… no one asks i-if I’m okay.”
Matt engulfed you in a tight bear hug and stroked your hair. He whispered into your ear, “Sssh, babe. I am and always will.”
After what felt like minutes of Matt soothing you, rather than leaving you by yourself he talks to Nick and Chris over his shoulder. You tried not to listen too closely. You only focused on the peaceful rhythm of his heartbeat in his chest.
He let go of his warm hug and you couldn’t help whimpering. “Babe…”
“I’m sorry, I just gotta do this one part. I’ll be over right after, promise.” He kissed your temple and gestured to the couch. 
Reluctantly, you slipped into the background on the couch. It felt like they were talking about the new drink and whatever else for hours. Matt was constantly checking in on you, and it would be obvious to the fans that something was off. Hopefully Nick could magically edit out a majority of the off screen glances. 
The slight breakdown and lull of scrolling through your phone made your eyelids heavy. You managed to pull the closest blanket over you to curl up in. A little while after closing your eyes, you felt arms pick you up and then both of you lowered onto the couch again. 
“What?” you groaned, a light yawn escaping. “What’s going on?”
Matt giggled. “You fell asleep, babe.”
“Oh…” 
Your head fell on his shoulder as Matt’s arms wrapped around your body acting like a shield. Matt kissed the top of your forehead then he rested his head on top of yours. Your eyes immediately tug close again, it was hard to fight off the prickling sleep. 
“You guys are disgustingly cute,” Nick commented. 
Chris aimed the camera at the two of you. “Goodnight campers!”
“Ew.” Nick scrunched his nose. “No, that was reserved for the podcast only. Don’t do that.”
“Well, now that’s over, we should start using it in the vlogs,” Chris bartered. 
Nick shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“What? Why not? Come on! They love it!”
Matt flipped them off. “Ssh! End the vlog over there. Please?”
Chris jutted out his bottom lip. “Aww, Nick, he said pwease.”
Nick rolled his eyes, but then babied, “Aren’t you such a good boyfriend, Matty? Cuddling with (y/n) and defending her from us.” He reached over to ruffle his hair. 
Matt swatted his hand away with one hand, attempting to not disturb you. “Yeah? This is why I’m the only one not single.” 
“Oh, I’m single by choice,” Nick threw back quickly. 
“Me too,” Chris agreed. 
Matt rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.” 
You couldn’t help the smile that spread on your lips and you snuggled more into Matt, fueling more of the fire between them. 
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moonlitwitchdaisy · 2 months ago
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baby, ride me to the darkness of the night
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“F-Fuck—Ughh—can you feel it, baby? Can you feel my big cock pounding into your pussy to the rhythm of the music?”
Of course you could feel it. Oh, you felt it all too well.
Falling for Gojo Satoru’s charm wasn’t exactly a challenge. One glance from him was enough to have you slipping your panties down, wet and ready, waiting for him. And once he was inside you? The sensations he’d bring were like nothing you’d ever felt before.
You hadn’t even wanted to go to the club tonight, but your best friend had insisted you needed to celebrate finishing your midterms with something fun. Begrudgingly, you’d let yourself be dragged along, realizing that the night’s control was no longer yours.
At first, you’d rolled your eyes and sighed. But after a few shots, you felt bold enough to dance. On the dance floor, grinding against your best friend, collecting every wandering gaze, you had no idea the most dangerous one of all had already undressed you with his eyes and was fucking you senseless in his mind. Not until your friend leaned in, whispering about the blue-eyed devil watching you from upstairs.
People had given him many names: “The Strongest,” “Blue-Eyed King,” “Perfect Face.” But to you, the only one that truly fit was “Devil.”
Devil always got what he wanted. Sometimes, he lured people into his games with wicked tricks. Other times, he simply waited, his prey crawling to him willingly.
When you glanced in the direction your friend indicated, it became clear the Devil had already chosen you for his game. And without a word of protest, you chose to be his willing sacrifice.
You had no idea when exactly his hand gripped your waist and pulled you away while you were dancing with your friend. You could feel the hardness pressing against your ass. In fact, it was impossible not to feel it. And you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering just how much harder he could get.
Well, testing it wouldn’t hurt, would it?
Turns out, the results were conclusive. So much so that the Devil himself—Gojo Satoru—couldn’t hold back anymore. He’d dragged you into the women’s restroom, pinning you to the wall, his lips devouring yours the moment you were alone.
And now? Now your legs were wrapped around his waist, your already too-short dress pushed up to your hips, while his thick cock plunged in and out of you.
Each thrust hit that perfect spot, leaving you delirious as the beat of “São Paulo” synced with the rhythm of his hips. Your back slammed against the wall with every stroke, driving you closer and closer to madness.
You were letting the club owner fuck you senseless in the women’s restroom—something you never would’ve imagined yourself doing.
“S-Satoru—sl-slow-slow down, it’s too much,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the pounding music outside.
“Fuck no, baby. Haaah—I know you don’t want me to slow down. You just want more, you filthy little slut. F-Fuck, yeah—” he growled, his masculine rumble sending a shiver down your spine as he thrust into you harder and faster.
The sound of your bodies colliding echoed through the bathroom, but not a single soul dared to interrupt. It was as if, even through the blaring music, your shared moans were enough to warn everyone off. Nobody wanted to interfere with the Devil’s play.
And they had no right to.
“Mmmfp—I’m—I’m gonna—OH GOD, Satoru, I’m coming! Keep going!” you cried out, your voice trembling with the orgasm building inside you.
With one hand braced against the wall and the other gripping your hip, Satoru quickly moved his hand from the wall to your hip, using both to bounce you harder on his cock. It felt so good that you weren’t sure anyone else could ever fuck you this perfectly again.
“Shit—I’m coming too… You’re going to take all my cum like a good girl. Like *smack* a *smack* good *smack* fucking *smack* girl,” he hissed, accentuating each word with a deliberate thrust.
With a guttural groan, he spilled inside you, his head dropping to rest against the curve of your neck as his hot breath fanned across your skin. You could feel his semen dripping down your thighs as your legs trembled around him.
You closed your eyes, trying to process what had just happened.
You’d let the Devil ride you to the darkness. And it turned out, people were right—devil wasn’t a little red man with horns and a tail.
Sometimes, he had striking blue eyes and a massive cock.
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a little note: i was listening to "são paulo" on the metro, and this idea came to my mind. this song definitely gives off Gojo vibes.
all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.
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spatialwave · 2 months ago
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Jayce x Reader for the kiss prompts with the ‘kisses to keep your lover quiet during sex’ 👀 please please please
your wish is my command, hehe.
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be quiet.
pairing: jayce talis x fem!reader word count: 957 tags: mdni! smut, shameless slut, pwp, vaginal sex, rough sex, choking, forceful kissing, reader is being way too loud lol. notes: an ask from this prompt list!!
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You couldn’t help it, his cock was stretching you with every thrust and leaving your cunt aching for more. You rolled your hips against him, arms lifted above your head and pressed to the headboard as his name rolled off of your tongue.
“Be quiet,” he grunted, a large hand pinning your hip to the bed as he fucked you, huffing as he kept up a quick rhythm.
“Can’t,” you whined, “your cocks so big, I really can’t help it.”
You may have been overacting your coy behaviour, but it was true. Every thrust had you mewling in pleasure and it was near impossible to stifle the sounds.
It was a great compliment which stroked Jayce’s ego, but he still knew that fucking in the guest room that shared a wall with Caitlyn’s bedroom needed to be treaded carefully. Especially when the headboard was already thumping against it.
Your hands clawed at his chest, legs wrapped around his hips, “fuck me harder,” you whimpered.
“I said quiet,” Jayce groaned, leaning down and burying his face against your neck, lips and teeth dragging along the skin as his hips thrusted forward with a ruthless pace. The walls of your cunt felt so fucking good squeazing around his length, and he was doing his best to keep his own moans suppressed, but it wasn’t looking so good for either of you.
All he wanted was to sit upright on his knees and dirty talk you as he fucked you—watching the way you squirmed and would try to hide your face. Legs spread wide apart for him, his thumb circling your clit in a terrifyingly quick rhythm and watching your pussy take his big cock with no struggle like the good girl you were.
The best part? You could be as loud as you wanted, he could hear you scream his name until your throat was raw and fuck you until you were begging him to slow down.
But neither of you had that luxury as you were so graciously housed in the Kirramman house for a few nights.
You let out a sharp, loud moan when the head of his cock bruised your cervix—so deep you wanted to writhe away from his touch and treat the night like a game of cat and mouse.
Jayce was quick, lifting his head up from where he’d begun to litter your chest with love bites and capturing your lips into a heady kiss.
Immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck. Lips parting to give him access to your mouth, tongue gliding against yours and swallowing your moans.
“You like that?” He mumbled against your lips, tongue brushing against your teeth as he snaked a hand between your bodies and rubbed slowly at your swollen clit, his pace slowing.
You couldn’t answer back, lips and voice muffled by the way he assaulted your mouth with his tongue.
It was so fucking hot, almost hotter than the way his cock pushed in so deep you felt like you were being split open. Your thighs tightened around his hips, arms gliding up until you could grab his hair in a fistful, the other resting on the front of his throat.
“Yeah” you whined into his mouth pathetically.
Jayce snapped his hips harder once again, fucking you relentlessly as the bed shook. He had to take shallow thrusts, anything too forceful slammed loudly against the wall and risked someone hearing.
“I’ll be quiet,” you urged against his lips, attacking them and licking into his mouth to taste the remnants of a black spiced tea.
“You sure?” he whispered, eyes fluttering as his stomach twisted. Sweat had begun to build up on his forehead and the back of his neck, meanwhile the pillow princess herself laid back and began to play with her tits while he did all the work.
Jayce loved it.
“Mhm,” you hummed, cheeks burning hot as the thumb circling your clit did wonders to push you closer to the edge. You could feel the bundle of nerves getting sensitive with each passing second, little jolts of electricity making your pussy tighten so hard around his cock he had to whine into your mouth.
“Fine,” he muttered, lips trailing down your jaw and neck, “you make any more sounds and I’ll stop.”
You were obedient, chewing on your bottom lip fiercely to keep yourself from moaning. You even had to lift a hand, the back of it covering your lips as you met your boyfriend’s gaze.
His free hand had gripped the top of the headboard, tight enough the wood creaked as he looked down at you, admiring your beautiful fucked out face.
“Ah, fuck,” he groaned, “I’m gonna’ cum,” he whimpered against your skin, jaw clenching as his orgasm neared with each harsh snap of his hips, “gonna’ fill that pretty pussy.”
Your hand fell from your lips and you closed your eyes, lips forming into an ‘o’ shape as your own release crept up on you. Before you could stop it, his name was rolling off your tongue loudly and he was forced once more to press his lips to yours and place a hand at your throat, fingers pressing on each side of your windpipe.
”Sorry,” you breathed into his mouth, nails digging into his chest as his choking left you pleasantly dominated.
“No you aren’t,” he mumbled, tongue licking against yours as you both met your release together in near-silence. Blissfully ignoring the idea that Caitlyn could hear everything.
…She could.
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