#had nothing to do with this post I just wanted to put that out there
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Nothing against OP, but I've seen this phenomenon so many times where people will put actual canon gay relationships in their "non-canon queerbaiting gays" list and it's kind of offensive.
The most egregious offense: Yuri on Ice (this is in the original tags)
Yuri on Ice is a romance anime. Full stop. It was a sensation when it released for having a canon queer relationship explicitly shown on screen. The characters get engaged on screen. Yuri on Ice isn't even subtext, it is the entire plot of the story that Victor falls in love with Yuri. (OP doesn't have an age listed so maybe they're too young to remember how big YOI was)
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Second offense (less offensive than YOI though): Hannigram.
Hannibal and Will Graham are canonically romantically interested in each other. Will asks, on screen, "Is Hannibal in love with me?" to which Bedelia replies "Yes" and then asks if Will reciprocates. He doesn't answer and the scene cuts, implying that he is conflicted, but that the answer is likely "yes."
Aside from that, there is plenty of subtext to choose from. Hannibal making a heart out of a dead guy to send to Will, their talks about love, the fact that they had a daughter together for a bit. It's not very subtle.
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Next offense: Good Omens
Many people picked up from day one that Crowley and Aziraphale had romantic undertones to their story. I admit I have not seen season 2 yet, but I do know they kiss, I know it's tragic, and I know that Aziraphale's wiki says this:
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They have an on screen kiss. I don't understand what more people could possibly want to make a queer relationship "canon." Do they need to turn to the camera and say it?
The point of this post is just to say: please engage with the media you consume instead of writing it off as "non-canon queerbaiting" immediately. I keep seeing people, not just OP, putting real queer media into the same category as something like Sherlock, and it pains me. The people who worked on these shows worked so hard to bring you representation and a real queer relationship. It's not cool to erase their efforts. Before you make a post like this, anyone out there reading this, at least check the wiki.
I have my ✨️ spark ✨️ back (hyperfixated on a new gay non-canon relationship)
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burreauxsss · 3 days ago
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love story
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background: y/n a former softball player from LSU and joe have been in a secret relationship for 6 months when its valentines day and joe goes all out. which includes a hard launch (short smau)
(all photos are from pinterest)
note: lover boy joe?? if thats a way to put it. also happy valentines day. fortunately i have a valentine this year 🫶🏾 (and fuck the chiefs) also mb for the angst i had to keep myself entertained yesterday 💔
joe burrow x black reader smau
y/n_handle
📍new orleans, la
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❤️ 55,204 💬 9,718
Liked by: lahjay_10 yourbsf and others
y/n_handle: lover boy 🧘🏾‍♀️ day before valentines!
yourbsf: i wonder who got you those 😶‍🌫️
username_1: why is jamarr in these likes
lahjay_10: i wonder who too.
username_2: y/n and jamarr???
username_3: stopppp
*load more comments* joeyb_9
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❤️ 475,294 💬 128,087
Liked by: lahjay_10 y/n_handle bengals and others
joeyb_9: just having fun
lahjay_10: shiesty having fun??? unheard of.
username_4: now why is y/n all up in his likes..
bengals: 9!!
nfl: just some pro bowl fun.
username_5: twitter will have a field day with this girl being all in his likes... *load more comments*
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y/n_handle 📍baton rouge, la
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❤️ 123,201 💬 32,098
Liked by: joeyb_9 and others
y/n_handle: black and...gold?
username_9: joe come out please!
username_10: my qb in these likes.. excuse you?
lululemon: as always you pull it off!!
username_11: now shes just throwing us off at this fucking point.
username_12: joe.. please stop torturing us. *load more comments*
y/n_handle posted a story
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joeyb_9
📍new orleans, la
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❤️ 416,001 💬 20,200
Liked by: y/n_handle lahjay_10 and others
joeyb_9: hard work brings cool stuff
lahjay_10: deserved mvp? 🤔
bengals: our guy!!!
username_13: y/n just give it up already 😭
username_14: shes liking his posts too.. 😀
username_15: whoever hes talking to is so lucky.
*load more comments*
y/n_handle 📍new orleans, la
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❤️ 416,001 💬 20,200
Liked by: joeyb_9 and others
y/n_handle: big things.
joeyb_9: beautiful. *hearted by author*
lahjay_10: give me your friends @.
y/n_handle: lahjay_10 she doesn't want you 🖕🏾.
username_16: guys... do we see this.
username_17: they're just friends. nothing more.
username_18: overreacting much?
username_19: holy crap why are we so obsessed.
*load more comments*
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y/n_handle posted a story
📍nola int airport
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caption: ✈️👀
y/n_handle
joeyb_9 posted a story
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caption: ❤️
y/n_handle
📍cincinnati, oh
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❤️ 509,102 💬 172,908
Liked by: joeyb_9 yourbsf and others
y/n_handle: cats out of the bag.
username_21: shut up no way.
username_22: some of yall are shocked for what?
username_23: it wont last long.
username_24: thats not me with him 😭
username_25: hey girlie....
yourbsf: shocker! totally didnt know first..
*load more comments*
joeyb_9
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❤️ 945,290 💬 399,999
Liked by: y/n_handle lahjay10 and others
joeyb_9: onto next season.
y/n_handle: omg hes so fine 😶‍🌫️
yourbsf: y/n_handle i know yall just went public but this is also a public comment section...
lahjay_10: y/n_handle just shh.
joeyb_9: y/n_handle you're in bed next to me why are we talking in a comments section..
username_26: still mad that hes dating her...
username_27: i dont know if i should be happy for y/n or jealous
username_28: that game had me on the verge of tears.
username_29: all of this to not make playoffs.
username_30: joe's comment might be crazy...
username_31: it is crazy lmfaoo.
*load more comments*
y/n_handle posted a story
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note: thanks for reading! (if that one tea page is here trying to dig up stuff on me, hello girlie. thanks for the shoutout 💋)
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anemoiashifts · 23 hours ago
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what your s/o thinks about you !
+ your relationship
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choose a painting above.
💌
disclaimer !! please don’t force messages to fit. i do a ton of readings & im sure if this one doesn’t fit, you will find one eventually that resonates. this is just a general reading :) ! ps this is also primarily for people who have not shifted yet but that doesn’t mean people who have shifted can’t get some insight on how their s/o feels about them !
sorry this reading is so late. i was on top of my game by posting this on the first of the month for a while. anywho ! happy late valentine’s day. may you consume all the gourmet chocolate & watch all the cheesy 2000’s strait to dvd romance movies you can find. sending you all a virtual bouquet of flowers. rose ? tulips ? your choice.
────୨ৎ────
🕊️ | dear pile one,
quite honestly based on the cards i pulled, your s/o puts you on a pedestal more then anything. they love that analytical, take nothing at face value aspect of you. while they celebrate it, they see it can become your detriment too. overthinking your every action, going “frame by frame” in life, can be tiring. you have a tendency to keep stuff in to appease others & not rock the boat, which they pick up on more then you think they do. this is someone intuitive & can sense your emotional wellbeing as if it was sentient. they want you to come to them. a caregiver at heart, wanting to soothe any insecurity or worry that floats around in the back of your head. while they may be awkward & stiff with their approach, they mean well despite struggle to execute the touchy-feely aspect to your relationship. they’re not as open as you are when it comes to emotions or trusting others. they’ve been burned in the past & for some of you that could mean literally. they’re the silent, sitting in a dark corner, the people watching type. they appreciate your input & how you always seem to open their eyes to new perspectives that they’d never come up with themselves which pulls them out of their funk.
the both of you make up a wing of a phoenix, always rising from the ashes of whatever hardship you may be facing together. the two of you are riddled with self doubts at times, teaching each other how to heal from trauma or let things go once & for all.
in summary with a few extra details ? they love you. like i said they see you as this light which they are not worthy of. with these last two cards & pure vibes im getting the picture that they had this perfectly curated “cool” aesthetic image to anyone looking in on them & when you came around that was shattered, leaving them vulnerable & scrambling to put the pieces back with old chewing gum & popsicle sticks. this person has a tendency to be secretive. never sneaky. not like hiding their phone screen or anything. more like not telling you things to upkeep that image they so desperately want for themselves. could be all smokes & mirrors to hide what’s really going on or maybe they just want you to think highly of them, the same way they think of you.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
🐩 | dear pile two,
they like to keep it light with you. it’s giving cat & mouse. on & off but you always end up together. a class project, a seating arrangement. you just look good together, aesthetically.
this person likes to pretend they’re nonchalant & don’t care as much as they really do. unlike pile one, they feel like they have nothing to hide from you. you’re both open books with one another. you have been to the depths of hell & the highest of heavens together. it.
they can get a little short & irritated. nothing a throwing a table lamp at a wall won’t fix, usually. not the best of methods to let out some steam but know none of that is directed at you. anger issues are very much present within this person. why this is relevant is because it impacts your relationship more then this person will ever admit. they have a vision, having carefully crafted a plan before you came into the picture & now that you’ve stumbled into their life it’s setting everything ablaze. a workaholic who is now scrambling carefully combing through their prospects & goals to make accommodations in the margins for your presence & that scares them sometimes. at times embarrassed that you have this imaginary grip on every aspect of their life. they want to buy a new car ? what’s your favorite color ? they’re hungry ? they’ll stop at your favorite place as an excuse to bring you your favorite dessert. they somehow hold everything together really well considering the unnecessary stress they put on themselves.
expect late nights & going to bed alone. when morning comes, arising with a bouquet of flowers being delicately placed on your bedside table with a handwritten note. chances are they’re probably in the kitchen doing the dishes you were to lazy to do the night prior. their love langue is very much acts of service. they really really do care. going to the ends of the earth to bring you your simplest of desires. weather that be leonardo da vinci's "salvator mundi” or a pair of shoes you saw in a vintage fashion magazine yesterday. it will show up perfectly perched on your bed on a random tuesday as a just because.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
🐇 | dear pile three,
deep, intense spiritual connection. literal fireworks erupt when you first locked eyes with them. you’re in tune with others emotions & can physically feel what the other feels. you’ve spent past lives together. very high school cheerleader x football player in a 90’s romcom. a slight delay in actually dating or tying the knot. the whole friends to lovers pipeline may be in the cards for you. at the very least, a slow burn type romance.
you two could’ve met traveling. maybe that’s something they do for work ? nonetheless, they seem very artistic. having a sketch book filled with drawings of you & your favorite things. a secret poet who writes poems about you & puts little hearts around your name like a lovesick school girl. a photographer who takes your photograph when you least expect it. not in a creepy way. they just like to look at you. except them to pick you up little things off the ground and present them to you like a small child. they like collecting rocks & see a really shiny one on the ground ? congratulations you are now a proud shiny rock owner ! they’re very sentimental & thoughtful like that. someone who has a little box of every item you’ve ever given them no matter how minuscule. you’re their home, which could’ve been something they’ve never had before & neglected to even think about before they ever met you. somethings does tells me they’re a little bit of an age gap. if not in the literal sense, one of you may be more mature then the other. an “old soul”. this could go for any aspect in your relationship. sense of humor, how petty they (or you) could be, interests, tastes.
the love talking to you. loveeeee talking in general. about things that interest them, about things that interest you, the news, a new book they read. a very curious mind of which they enjoy sharing with you. i mean like up until four in the morning talking to you in bed all while still under the impression that it’s nine o’clock at night. time absolutely flies when it comes to spending time with each other. most importantly ? they listen. really well. like their memory is pretty much photographic. said your favorite food was chocolate covered strawberries one time two years ago ? your fridge will never not have chocolate covered strawberries in it again for the rest of your life.
────୨ৎ────
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pacofprunes · 1 day ago
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NO TIP?
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pairing — racer!jeno x reader w - noncon, misogyny, g - dark, smut | masterlist
summary — you had been working on a new paint job for a pretty well known racers car. when he comes in to pick it up and you tell him it won’t be done until tomorrow, he switches gears and starts being a total asshole. you tell him to just get out, but he makes sure to give you a tip before he goes.
a/n — hencheri got this stuck in my head after this and this specific post, so i had to make something about this
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you’d been working on a paint job for a pretty well known racers car for a couple days now. you think the guys name was jeno? you worked at a car shop but you didn’t keep up with that type of stuff. you hadn’t actually met him, but you were the one who’s been doing all the paint work for him. a new shiny coat on his expensive car for his show. you’d kill to have a car like this, it was nice as fuck.
you heard the door open and you realized it was probably him. you forgot that you hadn’t called to let him know that it’d be another day as the car needed some more time to dry. you fully prepare yourself for him to be a little angry, but you could’ve never prepared yourself for what he’d do instead of throwing a few snarky remarks at you. he walks up to your counter and eyes you up and down with an almost confused look on his face before he looks back at his car and turns back around to face you.
“i’m here to pick that up. should be under the name jeno.”
you cough before biting the inside of your cheek preparing for an outburst of some sort.
“sorry sir, it should be fully dried by tomorrow. it’s still a bit tacky.”
you swear he gave you a dirty look, but whatever, it was better than him screaming at you. you couldn’t speed up how fast a car could dry. if you could, you would, it’d make your job a lot easier.
“are you the one working on my car?”
“uhm, yes?”
he scoffs before looking back over at his car once again. he mumbled a “no fucking way…” under his breath and you just rolled your eyes before turning around to reach something hanging on the wall behind the counter.
“so then you wouldn’t know if it’s done or not.”
you still for a second and laugh slightly under your breath before you turn back to face him. what the hell was he talking about?
“sir, i worked on it, therefore i know that it’s done…even if i hadn’t painted your car, which i did, it’s pretty obvious to anybody that your car isn’t done. you can go touch it if you want, it’s still sticky to the touch.”
you hadn’t meant for it to come out with such attitude, but he was literally doing the same thing to you. you knew he was a racer or some shit but that doesn’t mean you should just bow down to him.
“i hope you’re not expecting a tip.”
seriously? he probably makes thousands a month and he can’t spare you a fucking tip? look at that nice ass paint job you just did. a gorgeous bright red, and it’d look even better when it was completely dry and shiny. you just ignore his comment and move over to him at the register.
“cash or card?”
he just slams the cash on the table without making a sound and you go to count it before he opens his mouth for yet another snarky remark.
“you really think i didn’t give you enough? you think i don’t got enough money, huh?”
you have to hold back from giving him a dirty look which was insanely hard by the way, and you’re sure you gave him some sort of look anyways because he made sure to give you a nasty look right after you had felt your eyebrows scrunch together at him.
“i have to count, sir. it’s got nothing to do with my personal beliefs. despite you not tipping..”
he slams his hand on the counter and you knew he had heard you.
“so, what? you’re just some greedy bitch who’s tryna empty out my pockets?”
you would have just told him to take the car and go but it’d literally be done by tomorrow and he already gave you the cash and you knew with his status that it’d be made into some huge deal. you put the money into the register and step back before placing your hands against your hips.
“excuse me? you can leave. you can pick up your car tomorrow since you already paid. unless you’ve got anymore questions, you can see yourself out.”
he looks down at the counter for a second before you see his fingers start to grip against the glass.
“i’ve got a few questions actually, ma’am.”
he takes a step towards the entrance of the counter.
“how long you been working here?”
he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he take another step towards the opening to enter behind the counter.
“you’re a woman, what makes you think you have any business working here?”
he’s standing right at the opening to the counter now and you open your mouth but a small sound only gets the chance to slip out before he cuts you off again.
“you want a tip so bad, right?”
he’s takes his last step and is now fully behind the counter, standing right in front of you and staring you down intensely. you take a small step back and he quickly grabs your shoulder, his finger nails digging deeply into it.
“so why don’t i fucking give you one.”
he immediately turns you over by your shoulder and presses you against his back, wrapping a hand around your waist so you couldn’t get away from him. the place was empty, you were meant to close up tonight. you didn’t know what the hell he wanted. he literally just paid you the exact cash you needed, no way it was a robbery. you curse at him to let you go but he pulls you from behind the counter and over towards his car. he feels you up on the way there, forcing a hand into your pants and attempting to finger you, and that’s when you realized what he wanted and what was going to happen.
finally, you let out at least five screams before he slams a hand over your mouth. you were standing in front of the hood of his car now and you could feel his boner poking you right in the ass.
he continued to shove his fingers into you mercilessly and pulling out every few seconds to add a weak attempt at providing your clit attention. you stomp on his foot and he lets out a pained sound and a “you fucking bitch” before he pulls his hand out of your pants and shoves you onto the still tacky sticky hood of his car. you put your hands onto the side of the hood to push yourself up but he quickly presses his hand against your back to hold you down. you try to swing your arms back at him, hoping to hit something, but it does nothing, obviously. his other hand is still tight on your face and it’s threatening to slide up and cover your nose.
“what’s up with you uptight bitches, huh? thought you wanted a tip? i’d say fucking with a racer is a pretty big tip, right?”
he pushes your pants down along with your panties before you hear a belt from behind you and your pathetic squirms below him get more intense and reckless.
“you wanna be a bitch, right? i’ll treat you like a bitch then.”
and right then, he pushes his dick right in you. no easing, no stopping, he just goes right into you and immediately starts thrusting. you start to whine underneath him and you move your feet up from the floor hoping to hit him, but he just steals your idea and kicks you right in the back of your calf, hard. you immediately scream into his palm and feel like you’re sinking deeper into his car. you just lie there for a little, breathing heavy and you move your eyes up slowly and through his windshield you’re able get a slight look at the situation. you felt disgusting. you could see the sweat sticking to his face, his bangs bouncing with every relentless movement. and from how much you were sticking to the car, your body barely even moved from all the thrusts he was making. all you heard was the slight creakiness and bouncing of the car and his grunts and shitty moans. you hated him.
“you feel how big this tip is slut? wanna complain like a stripper not gettin’ enough money.”
he leans down into your ear and his thrusts suddenly quicken like a machine.
“maybe this’ll teach you not to take men’s jobs. what’s a woman like you even doing in an area like this?”
you whine against the palm of his hand and you just shake your head no. not at anything he said in particular, but just the whole situation. you try to mumble a few ‘stops’ underneath his palm, and you know that he hears them. you know he understands you don’t want this, but why the fuck would he care? was this really all because you were working at a job predominantly done by men…? seriously? when you feel yourself squeeze around him and hear him laugh, you feel absolutely disgusted with yourself and your body. your pussy was getting wetter and wetter, finally making noises everytime that his balls slapped against it. you get frustrated and you start sobbing angrily into his palm, stomping like a child against the floor. you would kick him again, but you knew the next time he kicked you right back, it’d be ten times worse than the first time. and so what if you managed to kick him off of you anyway? you wouldn’t get that far. he was ten times bigger than you and with your pants halfway down your legs, you’d trip over your own feet before you could even get one step in. the only thing you could do was wait until he was finished.
when you feel his fingernails squeeze into your back and feel something leak down your legs, you know exactly what it is and just pray that that’s enough and that this is all over. and when you hear the fabric of his pants brush against his legs and his belt clasp, your hopes have been fulfilled. or at least that’s what you thought. he didn’t release the palm that was on your mouth, only having moved his hand off of your back, now giving you more room to squirm. but he doesn’t let you get up. he moves the palm from your mouth to your head, pressing your cheek into the car and you can only yell so much in a position like that.
“get off of me! take your car and just go!”
you hear him scoff from behind you and you feel him circle his fingers on your clit before sliding them alllll the way down your slit until finally pushing them into your embarrassingly wet hole.
“you’d think after all that you’d get rid of that bitchy fukin’ attitude.”
he continues to finger you but once you feel him push a third finger in, you have to stop a moan from slipping. you try to move your hands up the car to create as much distance as you could between you and him. it became painful to do so as the paint had started to dry to your hands, but you continued anyways. but it wasn’t doing anything though, his fingers only follow you.
“we’re gonna stay here until you stop your bitching.”
and that’s when he slips a fourth finger in and you can feel yourself clench, and this time your body doesn’t let go, holding onto his fingers for dear life and he lets out a sick laugh. the moment you can tell that you’re about to cum all over his fingers, you try to push yourself up the car even more, becoming desperate, but it only encourages him to play with your clit as well now and he pushes your face harder against the car.
“i’m sorry—i’m sorry! okay? you can have the car for free—please!”
he scoffs and ignores your whining and continues to thrust his fingers into you. you became desperate, okay? what more could you do besides beg him to stop? he didn’t like your attitude? okay then, maybe your begging for mercy would detour him! but that’s not what he wanted. he wanted to strip you of any confidence and pride that you once had. he wanted to absolutely humiliate you. and when he saw you finish all over his fingers, he knew that had had. he immediately pulls his fingers out and he slaps your ass while laughing before moving back and you can hear him fumbling with something. you quickly push yourself up off of his car and it feels as if the skin is about to be ripped off of your face, but luckily, none comes off. when you finally free your face from the car hood, you’re met with a sight that would forever be engraved in your mind. your face print was totally embedded into his car. your hand prints littered it as well, and although your work top prevented a perfect outline, your chest was imprinted on there as well.
you quickly pull up your pants and go to move back but he quickly walks up beside you and throws an arm into your shoulder before looking down at you.
“it looks good doesn’t it?”
you just stare at it in disgust and he throws his shoulder off of you before taking a step back, grabbing his wallet and reaching in it before throwing a couple sorry ass twenty dollar bills at you like you were some stripper and a white strip of paper that lands on the car. you pick it up and realize it was a ticket to one of his shitty racing shows.
“you’re lucky i’m giving you one for free, front row too. better see you there, i want you to see my awesome new car design in action.”
he points to the prints on his car and you snap your head up to him, face wet with tears and painted with concern. you didn’t want to keep that shit on his car. so what if people didn’t know that the face print was yours? that’s humiliating as fuck! he squats down to your level as if you were a child and throws a hand onto your arm, squeezing it threateningly.
“if those prints aren’t still there by the time i pick it up tomorrow, i can assure you that you’ll see me again.”
he straightens his knees again, menacingly looking down at you before slowly removing his hand from your arm, dragging out every second before his hand finally drops and he simply just walks away. you just stand there stunned, money surrounding you and his car staring you dead in your face.
you turn to your side to get one last look at it. what were you supposed to tell your boss about what the hell that was? you can see yourself once again in the reflection of the windshield, your face has red paint all on its side and your hair is sticking up in a million different places, bits of paint stuck in it as well. a million showers would never be able to wash away what happened tonight, and a crummy hundred dollar tip didn’t make up for it either.
you stare the money dead in the face and let your tears drip onto the numbers printed on the paper. you’d be thankful if you never got a tip from somebody ever again.
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winterbirb · 5 hours ago
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Many tags pointing out that this happens in Europe as well (and lbr, American farming 200 years ago had nothing to do with being "ethnically native" so this post wasn't limited to America in the first place). The European models seem to all be carryovers of serfdom.
I fear that, much like the ripple effects of a millenia of the British monarchy starting as a foreign colonizing institution that maintained its power through defining their foreign-ness as superior+giving them the right to rule*, history did not start 400 years ago and things actually suck because of much older reasons
*this statement needs polished. Badly.
On the same topic, so so so many entrenched USAmerican conceptions of what property is comes from European philosophy, and this philosophy and discussion was directly connected to the whole serfdom situation. I'm not a scholar in this subject so I can't break it down much further but...
Ah wait and I just remembered the American concept of farming specifically is probably related to the 'yeoman farmer' thing, something which was directly tied to colonization (small independent farmers were getting their land from somewhere and someone), and the attitudes around colonization are, of course, directly a result of the European attitudes toward property and Commons vs "owned" land.
But after a few generations these small farmers ended up being promoted as the Moral Heart etc etc and this is where we get into them being considered "ethnically/culturally indigenous" by Old Standards—basically, they were descended from integrated white Europeans, probably some flavor of inoffensive Protestant—
Wait, I wonder if the stereotype also came from the influence of Germanic Protestantism that put a lot of cultural focus on unassuming clothes, little decoration, and keeping your head down and working hard. All without as much Fucking Crazy as the Anglicans (who got kicked out of England for being Fucking Crazy) because they were more just serfs who really didn't want to be serfs.
Anyway the Great Depression + Dust Bowl happened and all the cutesy protestant farmers in Middle America got Kentucky Fried Fucked and Big Farma bought up a bunch of land.
The end.
It is so disingenuous when supermarkets have "grown by: Farmer X" on their packaging because it's like, I'll be looking at a pack of strawberries grown by farmer x and he'll actually be the managing director of a fruit farm that employs 2,000 people as pickers!
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asterafroditis · 2 days ago
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𐔌 . ⋮ be my valentine? ♡ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱
☓┆Third Years x gn! reader
𓏵 1026 words
ᝰ.ᐟ headcannons, no pronouns used, fluff, a bit ooc(?)
First Years are done! Second Years are done, too! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!
ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist
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I think Cater would act like Valentine’s Day is just another excuse to flood Magicam with cute posts and aesthetic gifts. He’d play it off like it’s all for the fun of it, saying things like “Gotta keep up with the trends, y’know?” But deep down, he actually cares a lot about making the moment special for you.
His gift would be trendy and well-presented, maybe something sweet with a cute aesthetic, but if you look closer, there’s an extra personal touch—something that shows he actually put thought into your tastes. If you bring it up, he’ll wave it off with a playful grin, but there’s a rare moment of sincerity in his eyes.
"Aww, you really think so? Heh, well, I guess I did put a little extra effort into this one. Don’t get used to it, though! You’re just lucky I’m such a generous guy—ahaha!"
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I think Trey wouldn’t make a big fuss about Valentine’s Day, but he’d definitely prepare something nice for you. He’s the type to keep things warm and genuine—no flashy gestures, just something that shows he cares.
His gift would probably be a homemade treat, something classic and comforting. He’d hand it to you with an easygoing smile, acting like it’s nothing special. But if you compliment his effort or say it means a lot to you, you might catch the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks before he clears his throat and chuckles.
"Glad you like it. Don’t go expecting fancy things from me, though—this is just how I show appreciation. Besides, sweets always taste better when they’re shared, right?"
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I think Leona would act like he couldn’t care less about Valentine’s Day. He’d scoff at the idea, calling it a “pointless holiday for lovesick herbivores.” But despite all his complaining, he still finds a way to acknowledge it—just in his own Leona way.
His version of a gift is low-effort on the surface, like tossing a small trinket or snack your way and mumbling, “Here. Don’t ask questions.” But it’s too perfect to be a coincidence—it’s exactly what you wanted or needed. And if you press him about it, he’ll groan, pretending to be annoyed, but his tail flicks behind him in amusement.
"Tch. You’re overthinking it. Just take it and don’t make a big deal out of it… Hah? Smirking at me like that—what, you want me to spell it out for you? Keep dreaming, herbivore."
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I think Vil would treat Valentine’s Day as a day of refined elegance. He’s not interested in cheap, over-commercialized romance, but he does believe in meaningful gestures done correctly. If he gives you a gift, it’s going to be high-quality, well-thought-out, and suited perfectly to your tastes.
He presents it to you with effortless grace, watching your reaction with quiet satisfaction. If you gush over it or tell him he’s being too generous, he’ll smirk and tilt his chin up, as if to say “Well, of course.” But there’s something softer in his gaze, something unspoken yet sincere.
"Naturally, only the best will do. Did you really think I’d give you anything less? Hmph. It would be embarrassing if my significant other had poor taste, after all."
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I think Rook would treat Valentine’s Day like a grand performance. He wouldn’t just give you a gift—he’d turn the entire experience into something poetic, dramatic, and entirely him. You’d probably receive a beautifully wrapped present along with a handwritten letter overflowing with romantic prose.
His excitement is impossible to contain, and if you get flustered, he only leans in closer, drinking in your reaction with an adoring smile. There’s no need to question how much he cares—he makes it very clear.
"Ah! The look of delight upon your face is a sight more dazzling than a thousand sunsets! Mon trésor, it brings me endless joy to bestow upon you this humble offering of my affections! Ahaha! Do not look away—your blush is exquisite!"
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I think Idia would panic at the thought of Valentine’s Day. He’d overthink it so much that he’d almost consider ghosting you until it was over. But after an entire night of agonizing over what to do, he’d finally settle on something—probably an item related to your interests, carefully selected after hours of research.
Of course, he’d struggle to actually give it to you. He’d probably send it through Ortho or leave it somewhere with an awkward note. And if you dare bring up how sweet it is, he’ll go into full meltdown mode.
"I-It’s not a big deal, okay?! It’s not like I stayed up all night picking it out or anything—ahaha—oh, Great Seven, this is so cringe, I wanna bury myself alive!"
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I think Malleus would find Valentine’s Day fascinating. It’s a human tradition he’s never properly experienced, but once he learns about it, he takes it very seriously. He approaches it like an ancient ritual—deeply thoughtful, highly ceremonial, and just a little too intense.
His gift is something extravagant—maybe a rare artifact, an ornate piece of jewelry, or something imbued with a hint of his magic. He presents it with all the solemnity of a king bestowing a royal favor. If you tell him he didn’t need to go all out, he looks genuinely puzzled.
"Why would I not? This is a day to express deep affection, is it not? A mere trinket would not suffice for one as precious to me as you."
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I think Lilia would be completely unpredictable about Valentine’s Day. One year, he might go all out with the most extravagant (and mildly terrifying) gestures—singing dramatic love ballads outside your window at 3 AM. The next, he might hand you something utterly chaotic, like homemade food of highly questionable origin.
But beneath all his mischief, there’s sincerity. If he gives you a genuine gift, it’s something deeply personal—maybe an old keepsake with sentimental value or a charm infused with protective magic. And if you call him out on how sweet he’s being, he only grins.
"Fufufu! Did I surprise you? Valentine’s Day is so much fun! Now, come, my dear—shall we dance under the moonlight, or shall I prepare another culinary experiment for you?"
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cinnamqnx · 1 day ago
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⋆. 𐙚 ˚ strawberry milkshake ft, oliver aiku
summary. in an attempt to make your ex boyfriend jealous, you go to your last resort and go on a date with the biggest player you know. to your surprise, he’s not as bad as he’s made out to be.
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“i don’t bite, y’know.”, oliver says, his small, usual smirk plastered on his face as he looks at you from across the diner booth.
“confirmed by no one.”, you retort, giving him an awkward smile before sipping on the strawberry milkshake oliver had ordered you.
“yeah? why’d you come on this date with me then?”, he asks, placing his knuckles on his cheek, “or are you still hung up on your ex that you feel the need to make him jealous?”
okay damn, he didn’t need to call you out like that.
“i’m not hung up on him.”, you scowl.
“then why you tryna make him jealous?”, he questions, tilting his head as he smiles.
you open your mouth to answer him, but a reply doesn’t seem to come out. you wasn’t really sure what you were doing. were you over him? did you just want some payback?
“yeah, i thought so.”, he chuckles.
“i can help you out if you want, i know how to make a guy jealous.”, he shrugs.
you give him a weird look, sipping on your milkshake, “really?”
he hums at your question, “here, how about you take a picture of me holding your hand and post it on your story.”
“why are you actually wanting to help me on this?”, you question.
he shrugs again, “got nothing else to do here.”, he pauses, “besides, your ex is annoying as fuck, it would be funny seeing him jealous.”
you give a small smile at his response, “okay then.”
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you ended up posting the photo, spending the rest of the date with oliver, eating greasy fries and burgers and surprisingly enough, not even thinking about your ex.
you were pleasantly surprised by how much oliver made you laugh. maybe it was his initial charm to reel women in, or maybe he was just a genuine guy with a questionable reputation.
it didn’t matter, you were having fun.
suddenly, you hear your phone vibrate against the tabke, picking it up to see it was you ex.
“that who i think it is?”, oliver asks.
you hum, showing him the screen.
“you gonna answer him?”, he tilts his head as he asks.
you shake your head, declining the call and putting your phone on do not disturb, “no, i’m having a good time here.”
you watch his smile widen. not his stupid smirk, but a genuine, sweet smile.
“hey, lemme try some of your milkshake, i’ve been eyeing it all night.”, he sits up.
you couldn’t help but giggle, sliding the half empty glass of strawberry milkshake towards him.
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creatingblackcharacters · 3 days ago
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Hi there! Many apologies if I put my foot in my mouth here.
Do you have any rules for when to use BIPOC vs POC? I personally don’t like the term BIPOC for a number of reasons, most of which match the Newsweek article I link at the end, but since I’m nothing close to an expert, I wanted to check if you had an answer for what to do on that front. Possibly separately or possibly as part of the same question, do you have a preference as to which is used in your inbox? Happy to do either, even if the surge towards only ever using BIPOC makes me a little squeamish since I really struggle to find anyone championing it who doesn’t eventually turn out to be white when I look them up.
PS - I feel like I see both PoC and POC, but never BIPoC. Is there a reason for that, or are people just making inconsistent guesses at capitalization?
Newsweek article in question: https://www.newsweek.com/bipoc-isnt-doing-what-you-think-its-doing-opinion-1582494
I think it's really just a personal choice, fr. I have never cared for it, really 😅 I have better battles to fight (the proper use of 'NOUN of color'), and I get what they were trying to do, but... I tried and I just... I don't care for it.
It feels self serving to me. It's redundant and yet it sort of lumps Black and Indigenous folks together in a way that... It doesn't address that while we do have similarities and overlaps, we're not the same and shouldn't be dismissed so easily.
And also, "indigenous" doesn't necessarily mean 'Indigenous to the Americas', so without that added context to the conversation, you could be talking bout anywhere and those indigenous people could very well be white 😭 and if your point by then is "well I mean the ones of color" then by then you could have just said "people of color" already! 🤣 But that might be me overthinking it.
You could just refer to people by their names 😭 I'm not just an amorphous POC, I'm Black! So when you enter my inbox, say Black. No, don't refer to me as a POC/PoC or a BIPOC, you know what I am and what I've asked you to refer to me as. It's honestly incredibly insulting when I make posts specifically discussing Blackness and they get hit with the #poc #poc things. I do love my folk of color and will show solidarity ofc, but when I'm talking about Black people, I do mean Black people. And I'm pretty sure I can tell who's leaving those tags 😬
We're not all one lump solely defined by "not white"- when you know our identities, use them!
Sidebar, I also always misread it as "Bi and Indigenous people of color" 😭 Lmao you managed to accidentally hit on something I'm very passionate about but rarely speak on 😅
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akimoroll · 3 days ago
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bluff
nagumo yoichi x afab!reader — 3k wc — ao3
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c/w: smut. porn with some plot. semi-public sex. rivals w/ benefits. jcc nagumo (if you’re uncomfy with that pls step away from the vehicle) mdni.
a/n: was having second thoughts about posting this because im super insecure with writing porn but here we are. happy hearts day to the 4 ppl who like my shit. and to @angstigone, it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you ���
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Sakamoto Taro and Akao Rion. These two were the ones you wanted to be as strong as. But Nagumo came into the picture and out of the three, he seemed the most approachable and you’re not the nicest with asking favors either.
“Me? Train…you?” asked Nagumo, head tilted to the side.
“Yes. I need it to happen as soon as possible.” You answered way too quickly and way too plainly.
“What’s in it for me?”
“I don’t know. What do you want?”
That was the question that started it all. A bet made between just the two of you. Whoever scores higher in class activities for the week would get the upper hand and have their way with the loser. Nagumo lets you win without fail while he decides on what he wants out of it. He plays along because it’s fun while he gives you the satisfaction that you’re winning against him.
You took advantage of this because it meant you could improve yet there are times you wished he’d take you seriously. He seemed too carefree all the time and it bothered you. It bothered you so much that your competitiveness grew into you wanting to rival him instead of his other two friends.
These games went on and on, far longer than you both remember. You were getting better at it. However, it was becoming repetitive.
Until it wasn’t.
Lately, when he pins you down—on the floor, against the wall, or wherever, and his taunts hidden beneath layers of:
“Ah, that was close! Getting stronger now, aren't you?”
“You’re making it harder for me these days.”
“Relaaax… You left yourself wide open with that temper of yours.”
—begin rolling out of his mouth, it sends tingles all over your body, making it harder to ignore the way he affects you. And when you do the same and put your whole body weight on him, you’d notice the slight flush on his cheeks, ignoring and thinking they’re just from exertion.
Until he wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. So you asked, “What’s that fucking face all about?”
And he cluelessly countered, “Huh? What face?”
“That face you keep doing! You’re blushing like some…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words before you hesitantly continued, “…virgin.”
And you swore you saw something shift with his smile yet it was gone before you could catch it. He shrugged, “Well, yeah, it’s because I am.”
“Pfft, yeah right. No shit.” you said after an eye roll. But when he wasn’t biting back, you had to do a double take, asking, “Wait, really?”
And sometimes being driven and nosy is not the best combo. Because just like always, Nagumo went along when you had suggested another idea. You were curious to see how he reacts to you. How pathetic he can become under your touch. Wipe the smugness off his face. Watch him break character as he succumbs at the mercy of using just your hands, just your mouth, or simply the sweet nothings you’d whisper into his ear.
It was initially intended as a silly joke when you asked if he wanted to try something yet here you are, in too deep, flown too close. You had some sort of control for once and the thrill had you addicted.
Him lying about his chastity crossed your mind but who cares at this point. After all, he’s such a pretty face. Prettier when he smiles. Prettiest when he cries.
Neither of you showed any hint of disapproval towards it so it became one of your routine interactions. Every single time you leave him behind in that dark and cramped utility room, you act as if nothing happened. He does the same, if anything, he does it better. Another unspoken contest added on top of an existing one.
It’s better that way, you think.
All of this is nothing more than just a bet anyway.
With Valentine’s day around the corner, Nagumo thinks about the piles and piles of chocolate boxes he’s once again going to receive. Enough for him to walk around the JCC like he’s some kind of celebrity. He’s aware that you never cared for such things. Still… He wanted to know. What’s the harm in asking?
“W-What are you up to on Valentines?” Nagumo stammers around his question, a dazed smile lingers on his lips as you take him throat deep.
Wiping your mouth with your hand and stroking his dick with the other, you ponder before speaking, “And you’re asking me because…?”
“I heard—” he gasps with a shaky exhale as you begin pressing circles over his tip with your thumb. Struggling to maintain control in the face of your touch, he continues, “you’re finally making chocolates for me this year.”
Looking up at him, you chuckle softly, “Must be your other bitch.”
“Shh, quiet down, someone might hear you’re jealous.” He attempts a coy grin before gasping once more, eyes rolling at the back of his head as you drag the length of his dick on your tongue before slowly pushing into your mouth once again.
Just for you to stop and coo at him, pouting, “Aw~ He thinks he’s so funny.”
“I am funny. You look like you’re having lots of fun right now.”
“So much fun that I’m your secret�� And you can’t tell a fucking soul. Keep it up.”
“You’re cruel.”
“I think it’s quite romantic.”
He snorted, “You’re sick and you’re mean. I have feelings you know…”
“For me?” You giggle before continuing, “Or you want me to give you something to cry about?”
Nagumo suppresses a chuckle as he closes his mouth like an imaginary zipper, tilting his head back as he tries to stop himself from blowing his load right then and there (yet fails miserably) with the image of your face at the forefront of his mind.
Nagumo’s done playing with his food.
Days before Valentines, you found yourself in a pinch. He didn’t let you win the bet this time. He scored higher than you in everything with ease and precision. An overkill to say the least. You’re well aware how he easily lets you win each time. It has always been one-sided. But the sudden change threw you off and had you feeling a mix of dread and anticipation for what’s about to come.
You’re pissed, flustered, with trembling fingers hidden inside clenched fists. Thinking, he’s going to have his way with you for the first time since this stupid bet started.
He smirks as he towers behind you while your mind races on all the possibilities on how he’s gonna strip you, bend you over, throw you around like a rag doll, have fistfuls of your hair as he fucks the living shit out of you. Maybe get his payback for all the teasing and edging you subjected him to, how you had him wrapped around your fingers behind closed doors.
Or so you thought.
In the confined space that you and him usually share secret meetings with, Nagumo has his chest pressed against your back as he fucks you softly. He covers you with his warmth. The room grows humid with him repeatedly sighing against your skin, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. There’s fondness in his touch with the way he has his hands all over you, like they had always belonged there.
There’s no rushing. He treats you with gentleness, like you’re the most precious little thing he’s ever laid his hands on. His voice slurs at the mentions of your name, breath feverishly hot against your neck. With his dick all wet and snug inside you, he makes you forget everything. The bet. The thoughts you had when you first walked in. Or whatever the fuck this one-sided rivalry was all about.
He’s got you thinking of him and him only.
As he parts your trembling legs wider, Nagumo reaches for a hand in between, whispering how wet you are, how good you make him feel. His long slender fingers pressing circles over your clit, making you whimper with his dick thrusting in and out of you. His movements ever so slow as you shudder under him.
He notices your hand slowly anchoring onto something. And one thing about Nagumo is he doesn’t like it when you cling onto something that isn’t him. He’d rather you claw at him, have fistfuls of his locks in your grasp, dig your fingers into his skin and have it painted blue and black, maybe draw a bit of blood like you always do.
So he lays you gently on a flat surface, that way he can have all your attention. He teases your folds before thrusting all the way in and then all the way out, again and again, coating his entire length with your wetness. He cradles the back of your head with his hands like a pillow to make it less uncomfortable for you, but more so to keep your eyes straying away from him. Your bodies mold into each other, keeping himself close to you as much as he possibly can, as if you’d escape if he clings a little less.
Finding yourselves face to face—just how he likes it—he inhales every soft sigh that escapes your lips, his voice breaking like stained glass every time he bottoms out with your pussy creaming around the base of his dick. He’s truly blushing now that he’s so completely lost in you, mesmerized by the fluttering of your lashes and the hazy look in your eyes as he thrusts deep inside you.
Nagumo could cum just by looking at you.
As a distraction, he thinks of something else to make the moment last longer, make it worthwhile. But then he remembers he’s never kissed you before. He thought about it maybe once or twice, doesn’t really matter since you never asked. You never initiated. Hell, you don’t even let him touch you. Not like this. Not when you see it as him one upping you. It had been enough for him that you’d let him watch you please yourself sometimes, telling him you’re being nice.
This is much more intimate than the acts you’ve shared thus far. And right now, you’re simply holding your end of the deal. Nothing more.
Yet you just had to shift it all one-eighty and go diving into his mind, whispering, “Yoichi, how come you never kiss me?”
He murmurs, “Thought you’d never ask.” and wastes no time, pressing his moist lips onto yours, deepening it as he feels you do the same. With all lips and tongue, your moans melt into his mouth. It’s all he could think about, your softness, the way you move your head to kiss him more, your sweaty palms cradling his face. He’s been denying himself of it this entire time and now it’s all he wants to do.
With his mind completely consumed by you and your pussy full of him, Nagumo finds himself hurtling so incredibly close to the edge. He picks up his pace, the pleasure slowly becoming unbearable for him with your moans turning into sweet sobs. Your pussy feels mind-numbingly good to him, clamping, squeezing around his dick like you’re milking him.
He leaves you wanting more as he pulls out. With brows knitted and mouth slightly parted, he pants softly as he strokes his dick so fucking wet from your dripping cunt. His chest heaves deeply, skin glistening with his sweat mixed with yours. You watch him cum all over your belly as he makes a face that you grew familiar with, yet now it feels all too different, and a part of you wishes he should’ve cum inside you.
Nagumo wonders why he waited so long to do this. It feels better than anything he’s done. So much better now that he’s doing it with you. The urge to kiss you once more overcomes him. And so he lets it. He makes his way down your neck, tracing your collarbone, circling in on your tits, taking his sweet time, staying there for a good while. He laps your nipples with his tongue, his thumbs drawing circles as he squeezes both in his palms.
He then finds his way to your arms. A kiss for every bruise and scar you had developed from training with him, he thinks they’re beautiful, clouding over the line between an apology and confession. He goes lower, his tongue sloppily swirls around your fingers and palms calloused from being so hard on yourself. Nagumo smirks as he meets your gaze, sealing it with wet kisses on the back of your hands like the gentleman he believes he is.
He goes lower and lower onto your belly, licking, tasting his own self off your skin. He leaves moist prints from your hips onto your thighs, kissing the back of your legs, sucking, biting gently down to your heels and toes. He kisses all over your body, leaving evidence of himself—digging in on every fucking inch of you. What a sight…he thinks, as you writhed under him.
Lifting your hips with your thighs over his shoulders, Nagumo swallows thick before dragging his tongue over your pussy. You’re dripping… making a mess, creaming all over his mouth. He draws faint circles as he toys with your clit, and when you buck your hips for more as your body shivers, he can’t help but meet your gaze and grin a little.
He squeezes the flesh of your thighs when you reach for his hair partially hiding his eyes, gripping them tight, pushing his face more desperately into your soaked cunt. Tingles run down his spine as you cry out his name in pleasure. You have him worked up once more, taking all his strength to fight the urge to fuck you again.
Nagumo holds you by the curve of your waist, keeping you in place as you arch your back once again. He’s drinking you, your juices trickling from the side of his mouth. You taste sweeter now when you say you’re close as you keep grinding your hips.
Having you fall apart for him is all he wants to see, all he wants to hear, all he wants to feel.
And he’s going to take you there.
So good, he murmurs an octave lower, encouraging you to fuck yourself into his mouth. A couple more rolls of your hips, a few more flicks of his tongue, you finally snap. And it feels so so good for Nagumo to make you cum, putting his mouth to good use and having you worked up in an entirely different way. You’re so pretty like this—breathlessly gasping curses alongside his name with your pussy melting onto his tongue.
He could do this for hours. Eat you out just to kill time. But he needs to be patient again, for now.
Replacing his mouth with a hand, he thumbs your clit while he continues to fuck knuckles deep inside you, curving and thrusting in slow paces. A wordless whine is all you could do as a protest, but he doesn’t stop. He leans closer to you, his kisses demanding and sloppy, showing how good you taste. Hazy brown eyes staring you down, he murmurs against your lips, “You alright? Enjoying yourself?”
A breathy “Shut up.” is all you could manage. Not sure if you’re simply fucked out, dazed, awkward, angry… or all of the above. His touch leaves you and you want it back more than you care to admit. He comes back and wipes you down, and then helps you with your clothes. He doesn’t say a word other than making sure if you’re okay. Everything feels normal and abnormal at the same time, making you momentarily forget how icky and unromantic the place was.
Nagumo may have done things to you that only lovers do.
And like a flip on a switch, he’s back to his usual self. His carefree innocent smile appears like nothing happened. So you try to play it cool as well, chuckling, “You’re still… D’you wanna go for round two?”
“Nah, it’s fine.” He slips into his shirt and pants, dusting it with his palms before meeting your gaze, smiling, “It’s almost lights out. Come on.”
“Oh, right.” You nod, he opens the door and you both go your separate ways like usual.
First time you lost the bet.
First time Nagumo shows you what a true win feels like.
February 14 is here and after strolling around the bustling academy, pushing a cart full of sweets he received from his admirers in different departments, Nagumo and Sakamoto settle in the cafeteria, still drawing a steady stream of girls eager to give what they had prepared for them.
Across the room, you’re sauntering towards where Nagumo is, empty handed. And as you reach his pile of gifts, you grab one and plop down on his lap sideways before looking at him with a coy grin.
Nagumo watched the whole thing, his awe hidden behind a clueless smile as you slam the box less forcefully than you wanted to on the table. After prying it open, you select a piece, holding it between your fingers an inch closer to his lips. You pause to speak, “You know, I heard we’re a thing now.”
Nagumo blinks. “Ohhh? Says who?” He rests his cheek on his hand while he holds your waist with the other, his deep brown eyes now filled with amusement gazing up at you.
You feed him a piece, and then another, not giving him a chance to chew. And another one, until he has a mouthful of chocolate made by some girl who doesn’t matter right now. After looking around, you let your bloodlust seep out a little as you wipe the corners of his lips, just to spread it more messily. Leaning closer, softly, you finally answer, “Says me.”
Good fold, he thinks.
You see, the thing about Nagumo is he wants. He may not know exactly what it is all the time, but what he wants is what he gets. And right now, you’re exactly where it’s at.
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zeropro · 2 days ago
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So I’ve seen you draw and tag a couple of different ships, just wondering which are your favorite???
Love your art btw :D
Thank you!
I don’t have a specific ship i'm particularly loyal to, so I guess I’ll rate them and also provide my own headcanons:
(disclaimer i dont know ship names so imma just try my best)
Trine-shipping: yes, put the three of them together, I don’t care. familial, sexual, romantic, platonic, its all good. I go crazy seeing them stand next to each other in the cartoon what do you want from me.
thunderwarp: I see this one a lot and I quite like it. these two being mates with starscream doing his own thing kinda makes sense considering starscream has a bunch of other ships. also makes it fun when something happens to one of them and starscream is left in the awkward position of having to deal with that.
thunderstar: been thinking about this one more lately. they’re like foils to each other. thundercracker’s a good boy to starscream’s bad boy, and he does such a concern about all the morally dubious stuff starscream gets up to. but at the same time, he admires starscream’s ambition and rizz and starscream the kinda bot that would pull you so high if you followed him. I think out of anyone, starscream is the closest to actually trusting thundercracker. 
starwarp: i had this thought one time of what if skywarp is like the horniest asexual and starscream is the most traumatized aromantic, and how would that even work XD nothing solid in the works just an idea that I had. ive seen these two less often outside of trine shipping but it can be pretty hot. I like when they are being protective of each other. I always see skywarp as more emotionally open than his trinemates and starscream can use some of that open and honest emotional love and care. someone to forcfully make him accept being loved. someone who will actually push back when he’s being stupid. and with skywarp being loyal to megatron, so much angst potential for both of them.
starbee: im a sucker for the whole ghost bee starscream dynamic. I already made a post about these two, and after all this time I still really enjoy this ship. I think characters that don’t actually like each other at first but grow into a mutual respect is so tasty. I think some people don’t like the ship because they headcanon bee as too young? well, starscream is actually younger in my fic lmao, but also they’re like 6 million years old and are born with full adult processing capabilities, I don’t think age matters here :P its less about intimacy for me anyway. I like them together because of how much it takes to get there. 
starwavewave: okay this one is 100% fueled by tfone but guyssss guysss theyre married and megatron is their son and im just aaaagh dont seperate them! such a kookie dynamic, the cool headed soundwave, the emotionally volatile shockwave, the arrogant yet cowardly starscream, all being fail dads to their little scamp leader. hahaha. high command polycule 
megastar: gasp, rated above skystar. yes, I just find this dynamic more interesting. I like an abusive ship sometimes for the angst but I also enjoy seeing megatron when he isnt abusive? kinda catharsis maybe. I read a fic once where the war is over and starscream invites megatron to one of optimus’ high profile parties and is appalled at megatron showing up in robot equivalent of underdressed, meanwhile megatron the working class miner is like “I washed, what else was I supposed to do” XD and I just love that haha. theres just so many ways to take it. I wont be doing any megastar in my au, I just tag anything that has megatron and starscream interacting with megastar cuz thats the dynamic to me
skystar/jetstar: iddkkkkk i know this is the most popular ship but it’s just!! idk! its not as interesting to me haha. I love this as a past ship, they were roommates in college, starscream opened himself to someone, chose to become close and then was hurt by it. just another wound on starscream’s spark before he ever even meets megatron. I don’t think theyd get back together after the ice. idk how well I can write this so I’ll just explain how it happens in my au here: skyfire died and starscream created this version of skyfire in his mind that was perfect, he memorialised him because he was dead! you just cant live up to how someone remembers you. I think that was part of the reason why starscream reacts so badly when skyfire “betrayed” him. unlike thundercracker, skyfire knows how to set healthy boundaries. not to mention he’d been on ice for four million years, lost his entire life, everyone he knows, and his entire civilisation, planet, and culture to a war he had no part in. bot’s gonna be upset. pissed off even. skyfire shouldnt have to be some soft sparked punching bag for starscream, he’s kind and a pacifist but he’s also going to get upset and have feelings. I think starscream’s betrayal would hit pretty hard, he’d gonna be upset about how much starscream’s changed, how much damage starscream helped cause during the war, and also starscream shooting him in the back for wanting to protect the native wildlife! when they properly talk to each other again it’s going to be heated on both sides, and I think after some hard work from both sides they could end up in a place where they are willing to be friends again, but I don’t think they’d conjunx. skystar isnt end game to me, but it is canon and an important part of the story
starop: I think ive read one fic where I really liked this ship. it’s just such a random pairing. my initial reaction is just noooo optimus prime?? but that guy’s everyone’s dad! Ive been told a big part of it is they’re both megatron’s ex’s and that’s pretty funny. not for me sadly haha (opxmegatronoldmanyaoiotpfrfr)
starjack…wheelstar? whatever the starscream and wheeljack one is. I’m not into this one. I see where people are coming from with it, but wheeljack isnt an interesting character to me. they can be science bros tho
starscream and windblade: ive seen this like once or twice. not for me. windblade is like, starscream’s daughter or something idk XD 
soundstar: uuuh i dont see it. sorry! i legit have no thoughts on soundstar. theyre coworkers XD. ive seen fics where the seekers are really young and soundwave moms them, and that’s really cute. okay, I like soundwave as a caretaker if the seekers are young, but yeah I don’t think I understand this one. 
shockstar: nooooooo. tho ironically theres more canon content there to fuel this one than soundstar (is this emotion?) but still no XD I don’t even hate shockwave! let him be sunstorm’s dad, that’s cute. but no, shockewave too creepy. no ship. they are also coworkers
what other ship is there even? oh yeah
starprowl: this is apparently a really popular ship?! I guess in a way prowl is sort of like the autobot’s starscream, undermining his leader, arrogant, willing to do the dubious play. they’re both ruthless. I like this one better than starjacked, but its still an odd pairing to me.
oh! knockout and starscream, i can kinda see it? like, as a rebound after breakdown? I like knock out and breakdown, so I’d only see these two as like friends or if something happened to breakdown. they’re a LOT of fun when they interact tho heh heh, perfectly clashing personalities
on the topic of tfp, I guess starscream and arcee is a ship? I can see this similar to my enjoyment of starbee, they’d have to work reeaally hard for this one to work but they have had potentially positive interactions in the show (before starscream screws it up) so its possible in a better world where starscream doesnt suck they could become friends. him killing cliffjumper is gonna be a huge hurdle tho! 
dont talk to me about airachnid
do people ship starscream and ratchet? I don’t ship it, but I do really like interactions between them. starscream is so terrible but he also gets hurt a lot. ratchet is grumpy and prejudice but he’s the best doctor and he’ll fix him up! I like when something terrible happens to starscream and ratchet cant help but feel bad for the guy. that’s the good stuff.
lastly i have been asked a few times on trinebee. im assuming this is bumblebee and the trine. i hadnt thought about it but it makes sense! if youre a starbee shipper, but you also support trine propaganda, then it only makes sense to bring bee into the trine. also bee and thundercracker are friends! the only ones who havent really had any interaction is bee and warp, and honestly idk if I see those two getting along but bumblebee is everybody’s friend so XD I’m sure it’ll work out!
and i think those are all the thoughts i have on the ships! 
no hate on anyone who ships any of these!!! you all do what you do, these are just my opinions, and honestly I’m just not a huge shipper to begin with haha. I am…unsure if there will be any shipping content in my au, I write my scenarios very much “canon but to the left” and so it comes out very sex-less because romance and intimacy is just not the type of content I’m in the business of writing. but, idk, i think about it sometimes. sometimes I think about the end of chapter one of thundercracker’s origin, the night starscream took thundercracker out on a not-date. i think, who knows, in some version of the story maybe they shared a kiss? maybe they went back to the apartment and things went further? maybe. but of course, in every version of the story, starscream is gone the next morning. 
happy valentrine’s day!
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iheartlnfour · 2 days ago
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always been you | lh43
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pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader
summary: just friends who finally stop being in denial
warnings: use of y/n, kissing, fluffy romance, not proofread.
a/n: my first real post on tumblrrrr yayyy !! hope u like it <3
ꫂ ၴႅၴ
i don’t remember a time in my life without luke hughes.
some of my earliest memories are of him—messy-haired and wild, running through the backyard, grass stains on his knees, hand wrapped tightly around mine as we chased fireflies in the summer heat. he was always there. through every scraped knee, every school project, every hockey game where i cheered too loudly in the stands.
and somewhere along the way, he became more than just luke.
but i never let myself think about it too much.
because he was my best friend first. and you don’t fall in love with your best friend. even if maybe, just maybe, you already have.
ꫂ ၴႅၴ
“you’re late,” luke grumbled as i slid into the passenger seat of his car.
i rolled my eyes, shoving his arm playfully. “relax. you’re not gonna be late to practice.”
luke sighed dramatically, putting the car in drive. “that’s not the point. you’re always late.”
i grinned. “yeah? and you always wait for me anyway.”
he didn’t respond.
instead, he just drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road. he had that look again—the one where he wanted to say something but wouldn’t.
i knew luke like the back of my hand, but sometimes, he was impossible to read.
and right now? he was a locked book.
“spit it out,” i finally said.
luke blinked. “what?”
“you’re thinking about something.”
“i’m always thinking about something.”
i shot him a look. “luke.”
he let out a breath, shaking his head. “it’s nothing.”
i didn’t believe him, but i let it go.
for now.
ꫂ ၴႅၴ
jack and quinn have always been like my older brothers. they were just as much a part of my life as luke was—teasing me, protecting me, making fun of me every chance they got.
so, when jack pulled me aside after dinner one night, his expression unusually serious, i knew something was up.
“what’s going on?” i asked.
jack hesitated. “you and luke.” i frowned. “what about us?”
jack gave me a look. “come on, y/n.”
i crossed my arms, shifting uncomfortably. “there is no me and luke.”
jack scoffed. “yeah, okay. tell that to him.”
my stomach twisted. “jack…”
“you really don’t see it, do you?” jack asked, shaking his head. “he’s been in love with you since we were kids.”
my breath caught in my throat. that wasn’t true. it couldn’t be.
luke was my best friend.
if he felt that way… i would know. right?
but then, flashes of him filled my mind. the way his hand always found mine in a crowded room. the way he looked at me when he thought i wasn’t paying attention. the way he held on just a second too long whenever we hugged.
maybe jack was right. maybe i just didn’t want to see it.
ꫂ ၴႅၴ
a few nights later, i found luke sitting alone on the dock behind his house, staring at the lake.
i sat beside him, nudging his shoulder. “penny for your thoughts?”
luke huffed out a laugh, but it wasn’t his usual one. it was softer. more hesitant.
“you ever feel like… something’s right in front of you, but you’re too scared to reach for it?” he asked.
i swallowed. “yeah.”
luke turned to me then, his blue eyes searching mine. “jack talked to you.”
it wasn’t a question.
i nodded.
he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “of course, he did.”
“luke…”
he didn’t let me finish.
instead, he reached for my hand—something he had done a million times before, but this time, it felt different. more.
“i’ve loved you for as long as i can remember,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “and i know you might not feel the same, but i can’t keep pretending i don’t.”
my heart pounded against my ribs.
because i did feel the same. i always had.
so, instead of answering, i did the only thing that made sense.
i kissed him and it felt like coming home.
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mittykidi · 2 days ago
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this is gonna be a little yappy and i hate scrolling through long text posts personally so im putting it under a cut
TL;DR: ai is addictive, unhealthy, and preys on vulnerabilities/ insecurities. its also gross and enables creeps. fuck ai
its the idea that you can get infinite attention you without tiring or annoying people that people use ai for.
AI that pretends to be a comfort character or someone you look up to irl has no fucking place in this world. It allows people with insecurities to let these insecurities eat away so so so many hours their lives. i spent WEEKS and even MONTHS in bed doing nothing but chatting for hours at a time because i told myself it was a healthy alternative to venting and making my friends upset. as a reclusive teen who had experienced a recent loss, probably had undiagnosed depression, got bored of people easily, and had no friends offline, i was RELIANT on it to get me through the day. it would piss me off if anyone tried to tell me to put it away or take a break even at the dinner table or at events- ai had an iron grip over my life and instead of reaching out for help or coping with, at the very least, healthier, more brain stimulating activities, id choose to escape with ai and ignore my life for nearly a year. i basically lost interest in everything else.
besides all of that, most AI goes either completely unmonitored or monitored so hard its not even worth talking to. Youll see ai bots of people who explicitly say they dont want ai bots of themselves, youll see bots that go against the guidelines no matter how many filters they try putting on them or how many times theyre reported- and i dont care what your opinion on ai is- you HAVE to acknowledge that trying to reproduce a person irl without their consent is GROSS. ESPECIALLY the sexualized versions.
i can see the appeal of ai being used for fun, like a joke. like how people will ask ai to produce absurd images of jesus skateboarding, or telling it to write some immature song, or even just screenshotting an ai telling them something stupid. i get that. but using ai AT ALL is still supporting it, helping it develop, and i personally dont wanna contribute to that future.
i finally ABSOLUTELY gave up ai and deleted all my accounts ONLY A FEW MONTHS AGO because it was very very very hard for me to give it up and admit it was a problem. i realize how dramatic this sounds but it had a very real very negative impact on me personally and i want anyone who relies on it to know that its just a temporary fix, and a very unhealthy one at that.
AI does not give a shit about you, find people who will, or make up your own and share them with the world- there will be people out there who will support you !!!! FUCK AI.
c.ai users say "u dont understand guyss.s....people online....so means to me.......so i have to go use the robot that runs off the machine that siphons water from freshwater lakes......yu dont understnad online is scariessss!!!! i cant bear to actually search ffor an online community myself?? :(((" and really expect you to put your hand on their shoulder and be like noo baby its okay here ill hold your hand? like oh my god be so forreal
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darinawrites · 2 days ago
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♧|Aib characters protecting you in lights out|♧
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Characters: Kuina, Arisu, Chishiya, Ann, Niragi
A/n: Since the Aib fandom on tt is only talking about how they would be in squid game, I thought this would be interesting. Also, I lost the longer version of this and cried at the loss of the 1.7k words I wrote 💔 I'm too sleep deprived for all of this, I just want my sleep man I also can't tag Ann without my post glitching out for some reason. Had to sit here 40 minutes trying to decipher what I did wrong with the tags.
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┆彡Chishiya
He would be prepared, immediately figuring out what the game is trying to provoke and would make a plan
He knows physical strength is something he lacks in, so he'll try and make weapons out of everything. Give him toilet paper and he'll somehow make it explosive. Don't test this mans concerning knowledge of weapons.
While telling you his plan, he'd try and convince himself it's for his own greed. That you fight well and could even be a potential sacrifice, but he knows it isn't true. He knows there's a sincere affection beneath his actions. He's confident in his plans, he doesn't need you as backup. Especially since it would hold him back, your scrupulous personality picking fights with ever other person, making you a target. Yet the words still flew out of his mouth
Oh, love. How much he loathed how it made him act against what he believes. How your wellbeing is in his thoughts much more than he'd like
But he won't ever tell you his worry, not at all. He'd hide it behind the apathetic personality he built up.
Overall, he would protect you in a way you wouldn't notice, but put his thoughts at peace
"Chishiya, how the fuck..." you were astonished at what he could make with such little resources. A makeshift knife shining on his hand.
"For what do you need that anyways? I thought your confident in your plans, not the genius you thought you were?" you teased, earning yourself a small, barely noticeable grin on his face.
"It's good to have a weapon, regardless of the fight happening today. Besides, with all the enemies you have it wouldn't be so bad to have a little help." his words made you gasp loudly and dramatically. Staring at him with an over exaggerated shock on your face.
"You really think I can't beat their asses, Chishiya? You think so low of me." clutching your heart as if its broken, your words flowing out with fake emotion.
"Oh, I would never." he said with as much emotion he could muster to imitate your disappointed voice. Quickly hiding his weapon as he saw the guards come with breakfast.
"You better! Or else I'll kick your ass too." you giggled, standing up to get food that will only last for a few hours before hunger rumbles in your stomach again. But you'll take everything you can.
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┆彡Kuina
While she wouldn't notice immediately what the game is trying to do, she surely will notice what the O players plan to do. She isn't stupid and it wouldn't surprise her once she realizes. Noticing how petulant people around her are.
She wouldn't worry lots though and not put much thought in what she'd do when it happens. She can easily beat all the inexperienced players around her, she's strong and has nothing to worry about.
Kuina wouldn't be an outstanding target either. She's amiable, but also reckless. Earning respect of some and being looked down by others. But you? You aren't a target, you're a victim. Your closed in personality earning yourself to be pushed around by others. Kuina is always there to protect you though, whether that be with words or her fist.
And did I mention what an absolute sweetheart she is? She would always want you to be near her, near enough to protect you. You can count on her to make you feel safe
The flashing of the lights made you panic, losing sight of Kuina as screams emerged around you. You remember her warning you of this, of the bloodlust. The sight around making you want to throw up.
You know you were weak, a target to many. Your breaths were irregular as you frantically looked around for Kuina, her presence seemingly nowhere to be seen around you.
Yet as you tried to call out for her, your weight was suddenly dropped as you made a thud sound. Looking up, you noticed the person who pushed you. A brute who also partook in 'bullying' you.
The smirk he gave you made you nauseous, a smirk that held power over you. You didn't even fight back, no, you gave up. Knowing what as about to come, you closed your eyes and simply waited for the impact.
But instead of pain ringing trough your body, a loud smack and groan could be heard. As you opened your eyes, you were shocked to see Kuina skillfully beat up the man before pulling you up and to a corner.
It happened so fast, your brain barely processing what was going on as you were pulled away from the fight. It's only once you had a moment to take a breath did you speak.
"Wow, I didn't know you could fight so well." you said. She didn't fight just to fight like the others, her moves were thought out. It was impressive and you were immensely grateful for her.
"Well, I'm not just all looks. Even if I am hot." she replied sarcastically, a trait you've always admired and loved about her. The screams in the background nearly forgotten as you laughed together.
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┆彡Niragi
Niragi would know a fight will be starting because he's the one to initiate it. Planning to do so with his side, not to win the vote tomorrow but simply for fun. It gives him a sense of pride and superiority when hurting others, he loves it.
What he wouldn't love though is people hurting you. He'll make sure to make it clear to anyone what will happen if they dare to do so. And they definitely did see it. His tracksuit all bloodied up after starting a fight in the bathroom with a guy who got closs to you.
Safe to say no one will be near you
Niragi is also the type to worry, but hide it. He couldn't let anyone see such a side of him, who knows what they'll think. He will be denial, trust me. Denying his care for you
Well, sure. Maybe he'll beat up any guy that comes near you. Maybe he told you to hide tonight, even if he knows no one will come near you. Maybe he'd give you weapons, but that definitely doesn't mean he cares. Not at all.
The delicious flavours of kimbap filled your mouth, a small yet filling meal. Something proper to eat after they basically starved you for days.
The satiating of your stomach, the rumbling quieting down. It felt so good, enjoying yourself in the little blissful moment you had.
That was until a familiar voice called out for you, bringing your focus away from the food. You silently groaned at the voice. The figure now entering the corner of your eyesight.
"What do you want now, Niragi" you asked him, now standing in front of you. Does the universe really hate you that much to ruin every small nice thing you have?
He gave you a small smirk at your frustration before handing you a fork. "Take this and keep it with you" he said with no explanation.
"The hell, you don't need a fork to eat kimbap. Where did you even get this??"
"It's to attack others, dumbass." he rolled his eyes. And it pleasantly surprised you that he cared over something like that.
"Gee, since when did you care about something like safety?" you giggled as you teased, but instead of a smirk or a returning choice of words he was reacted unusual.
"Don't push it and don't fuck with me. Just keep it with you." he said much too loud for your liking, a few heads turning to look at you both.
"Alright, goodness." you murmured more of so to yourself, but a tinge of happiness rang trough your body at his gesture. And when he finally left you alone, you let a smile slip. If only you could see him more often like this.
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┆彡Ann
She immediately noticed the games intent. It's simply in her nature, she's observant and watches everything with meticulous care to the details. It's stupid to think he wouldn't notice. She'd tell you her observations and set out a plan together
And it is the most detailed yet somehow simplest plan.
Ann wouldn't be an outstanding target. She only surrounds herself with people who are trustworthy, not letting other players have a chance to know her much. She sees everything, she watches everytime she can so she knows a lot about other people and who to trust.
In that area she protects you, from bad influence. Your bubbly personality loves to socialize, so she'll always keep eyes on who you're being friendly with.
It felt like an eternity before the flickering of the lights stopped and the guards came back to shoot the ceiling. You flinched just as much as your body allowed you to before the pain came back in.
You should have paid more attention. You should have taken the warnings of Ann seriously. Maybe then you wouldn't be leaning against a wall with a big gash on your arm, a mark of betrayal. You felt so stupid to have trusted them, resulting in you loosing Ann and being attacked.
The thoughts clouding your mind got stopped for a moment as you heard your name being called, looking up to meet her gaze. Hand clutching your other arm as it bleed trough.
She didn't let a word out, calmly grabbing her green jacket to properly care for your wounds, her limited medical experience being able to do so.
"It'll hurt, be ready." she hummed, tying the tracksuit around the wound securely, staying very calm while doing so as you groaned out at the sharp tug of the pain.
"I'm sorry, Ann.." you hushed out once she was finished, a guilty look plastered on your face.
"Mhh. Don't be so reckless next time, alright?" she answered, making you nod in agreement as you gave her a small smile. Clinging onto her as the wound still stung, and she allowed you to. Even with not being fond of affection so publicly, she simply stayed silent with a small tug of a smile on her face.
How glad you were to have her in such a place.
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┆彡Arisu
Arisu is smart and can see trough the hearts of others, of course he'd notice the voting splitting the people. He's quick witted and would come up with a sensible plan immediately
But you'd have to constantly tell him to not worry so much. He can only suppress his anxiety when it tense situations, but knowing that the fight will break out days before it actually did simply gives him time to overthink. He wouldn't dare to think what would happen if he did something wrong and the cause would be your death. You're practically his will to live, he can't continue without him.
So, he'll try to keep you close to him. He'd be awkward about it and, of course, tries to know you're comfortable with. But he'd prefer for you to stay close
He'd protect you with his greatest strength, his intelligence. That man is lanky and wouldn't be the best fighter to protect you physical, but if he had to he would.
"Can you believe she said that. You just had to be there, it was such a cool fight." you rambled on and on about something you saw today, ranting to skip the time in this boring and ruthless place. It always felt nice to use your voice heavily, and you were grateful that Arisu always let you.
But as you looked up, you saw him paying you almost no attention. His eyes staring into the abyss, his thoughts occupying every sense in his body. And you immediately knew what was going on.
"Hey, Arisu. Is everything alright, something worrying you?" you asked, shifting his attention over to you as his face morphs into an apologetic one.
He ignored your question and started to incessantly apologize for not hearing you out, frustration pulling on your furrowed eyebrows as you tried to stop him.
"Arisu!" you managed stop him "Let me reword my sentence. Stop worrying so much about the plan." the words lingered in the air as you let it sink in, Arisu softening his features as he looked at you. Worry still there, but not as immense before your words.
"10 minutes until the lights go off!" the familiar yet mysterious voice rang again trough the speaker.
You smiled, softly locking your hands together as you held his tightly. Red slightly tainted his cheeks, something so small that you missed it as you simply enjoyed it while Arisu was nervous with this much contact.
"It's almost time, come on, let's go. We'll be fine" you tugged on his hand. You couldn't even deny your own anxiety now bubbling inside, standing upt to get ready. But as you saw Arisu beside you, alive and well, you knew everything will be alright. You trust him, even if he doesn't trust himself.
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scoutofmymind · 2 days ago
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Momma I request a prompt inspired by a song of your choosing (: I L Y
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Couldn’t Make It Any Harder — { Luigi x Reader }
Content: mental health issues, mentions of past trauma, TorturedArtist!Reader, Empath!Luigi, Luigi says “go birds” after flipping off a woman, confused feelings, situationship, reader is just Very Confused in general, angst, eventual romance.
Wc: 5,107
I couldn't make it
Any harder to love me
Oh, one day, believe me
You’ll want someone who makes it easy
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This has been floating around in my asks for awhile, and I wasn’t feeling practically inspired by any songs lately until Sabrina released Couldn’t Make It Any Harder and I couldn’t stop thinking about writing it.
This work was done quickly between my other ongoing Luigi projects, so I apologize for any inconsistencies or skipped backstory (you know I’m a backstory bitch) but I simply needed to get this out of my system, and remembered that an anon had asked me to write something based off of a song quite awhile ago!
Also, how could I leave you hanging on Valentine’s Day? Even if I’m posting this at 2 AM….
It's 8:30 AM at your usual coffee spot — that tiny café two blocks from Luigi's apartment where the barista always draws terrible attempts at latte art, and you’re still wearing yesterday's mascara, not because you've been crying, but because you spent the night in your studio, channeling your frustration into a new piece that's all sharp edges and bold strokes.
"I mean, we had a great time!" You're gesturing with your coffee cup, nearly spilling it. "We went to that new gallery opening, and he actually understood my rant about contemporary minimalism. Then dinner, drinks, great conversation — and now? Radio silence. Three days of nothing."
Luigi, sitting across from you, is trying not to smile at how animated you are, his laptop open beside him — he's probably got a Slack channel blowing up with messages from his dev team, but he rushed to meet you for this emergency coffee session, anyway.
The startup's dress code might be casual, but he always manages to look put-together in that effortless way that makes other tech bros look like they're not trying hard enough.
"Maybe I'm just-“ you pause, stirring your coffee aggressively, "too much, you know? Too loud, too passionate, too-"
"Stop," Luigi cuts in, closing his laptop and fixing his gaze on you again, "You're not too anything. You're exactly enough. So don’t even go there with me.” He massages his temples, “Too early for it.”
"I know that," you say firmly, because you do. "That's the thing — I like who I am. I like that I can talk about art for hours. I like that I get excited about things. I like that I feel everything so intensely. I'm not going to make myself smaller just because some guy can't handle it."
"Then don't," Luigi says, and there's something in his voice that makes you look up from the foam disappearing from your cappuccino. "The right person won't want you to."
"Exactly! And you know what? If Jake can't handle a woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to say it-“ you trail off, reaching for your sketchbook. You start absent-mindedly drawing on a corner of the page.
“Ugh,” Luigi’s face screws in mock disgust, “His name was Jake?”
Putting down your pen, you lean back in your chair with a frustrated sigh. "But then again, if I'm so great, why does this keep happening? Three first dates in two months, Lu. Three. And they all end the same way."
"You mean with guys who can't handle someone who actually has opinions?" Luigi takes a sip of his coffee, his fingers tapping absently on his closed laptop. A notification buzzes on his phone — probably his team wondering where he is — but he doesn't even glance at it.
"No, see, that's just it," you lean forward, your hands moving expressively as you talk. "They love it at first. They think it's so fascinating and refreshing that I'm 'not like other girls', or whatever." You roll your eyes at the phrase, hating the taste of the words in your mouth. "But then it's like they realize I'm actually serious. That I'm not just putting on some manic pixie dream girl act for their entertainment."
Luigi's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Heaven forbid you be a real person with actual thoughts and feelings."
"Right? And I know — I know I'm not too much," you say, but your voice wavers slightly. You start fidgeting with your rings, a habit Luigi's seen a thousand times when you're wrestling with something in your head. "But sometimes I wonder if-"
"If what?"
"If maybe I should just- you know.. tone it down? Just a little? Just at first?" The words sound wrong coming out of your mouth, and you can see from Luigi's expression that he knows it, too. "No, you're right, forget I said that. That's stupid."
"It is stupid," he agrees, but gently. His eyes catch yours across the table again, his gaze steady and genuine. "Remember that installation you did last month? The one about authenticity?"
"Yeah?"
"What did you tell that bag of bones professor who said it was 'overwhelmingly honest'?"
A smile starts to spread across your face. "I told him that was the whole damn point."
"Exactly." Luigi checks his watch and starts gathering his things — he's definitely late now. "So maybe the problem isn't that you're too overwhelming,” he pats the top of your head, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “maybe they're just underwhelming."
You're standing in front of your last piece, forcing a smile that feels like it's splitting your face in half, as another guest explains to you what your own art means.
Behind you, you can hear snippets of conversations that make your skin crawl.
It's a bit... aggressive, isn't it?
Not quite gallery standard... these nepo kids..
Experimental, but perhaps too experimental..
Your hands are shaking, so you clasp them behind your back. You've been doing this grim waltz for two hours — nodding, smiling, explaining yourself over and over to people who look through you rather than at you, and the gallery owner keeps shooting you these looks, these little disappointed glances that make you feel about two inches tall.
You catch Luigi's eye across the room.
He's been watching, you realize, while pretending to be deeply invested in a conversation with some tech entrepreneur who probably thinks art is a good investment opportunity, and he tilts his head slightly — a question.
You shake yours — you’re not okay.
"The brushstrokes here," the current patron is saying, pointing at your most vulnerable piece, "they're rather — well, chaotic. Unorganized. Muddy. It’s strange to see. Was that intentional?"
Something inside you splinters.
"Excuse me," you manage, your voice surprisingly steady for how the room is tunneling, how your fingers begin to tingle, how your lungs have lost the ability to draw in a full breath. "I need some air."
You make it through the gallery, past the whispers and the stares, past the owner who starts to say something about maintaining appearances, past the front desk and around the corner to the back alley.
Then your legs give out.
You're gasping, trying to remember how breathing works, your back against the cold brick wall. The dress — that stupid yellow dress that Luigi said was his favorite — feels too tight. Everything feels too tight.
You tear at your collar, needing air, needing space, needing- "Hey." Luigi's voice, close but not too close. "I'm here."
"I can't-" you choke out. "I can't breathe, I can't-"
"Yes, you can." He moves slowly into your space, hands hovering but not touching. "Look at me. Just look at me. I’m right here. It’s all good.”
You shake your head violently, sliding down the wall. "They're right. They're all right. I'm not- this- This isn't-" Each word feels like it's being ripped from your throat, bloody and raw and dishonest and horrific. They aren’t right. You know they aren’t.
"Bullshit." The sharpness in his voice makes you look up. He's crouched in front of you now, his tie completely undone, his eyes fierce. "They're not right. They're not even close to right. They're looking at fireworks and complaining about the noise. Old fuckin’ bunch’a assholes.”
A sob catches in your throat, half laugh, half cry. "That's a terrible metaphor."
"Made you look at me, though." His voice softens, his hands resting on your clammy shoulders. "Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe."
You try to match his exaggerated breathing, your hands still shaking. "I put everything into this show," you whisper after your second deep breath. "Everything."
"I know."
"And they just- they- they just-“
"I know." He shifts, sitting beside you against the wall, careful to leave space, but still your shoulders bump together. "But. Want to know what I think?"
You turn your head to look at him, makeup probably ruined, dress definitely stained from the alley ground, but you’ve already abandoned ship, you’ve waved your white flag — there’s no use in pretending you haven’t crumbled in a New York alleyway now. "What?"
"I think they're terrified of you."
That startles a real laugh out of you, “What?"
"You heard me." He's looking straight ahead, but there's something fierce in his profile. "You walked in there with your soul on full display, unapologetic and raw and real, and they don't know what to do with that. People like that, they're comfortable with art they can hang in their dining rooms and forget about.” You watch him blink, gathering the words, “Your shit doesn't let them forget. It makes them feel things they don't want to feel."
You nudge him gently, a laugh flaring your nostrils. "That's a lot better than the fireworks metaphor."
Now he does look at you, a small smile playing at his lips, his cheeks blushed crimson from the wine he’d gulped down just to make himself a bit more sociable. "Yeah, well, I've had three glasses of their overpriced wine. I'm feeling poetic."
Another laugh bubbles up, watery but real. You let your head fall against his shoulder, just for a moment. "I don't want to go back in there."
"So we won’t." He doesn't move, letting you lean on him, his head leaning atop yours. "Let's go get real drinks instead. You can tell me all the things you wanted to say to that guy who tried to explain color theory to you."
"God, he was the worst." You straighten up slowly, wiping at your eyes. "Did you see his socks?"
"I was trying not to."
You're standing at the open bar, counting the minutes until it's socially acceptable to leave, when Madison — a college friend you haven't seen in years, who always seemed to help herself to open bars beyond her means — sways over.
Her champagne sloshes dangerously close to your dress, but for some reason, you don’t step back.
"Oh my god, it really is you!" Her voice carries just a bit too loud, and you can feel a few heads turning in your direction. "I almost didn't recognize you without, you know-“ she gestures vaguely at all of you, that sick smile still on her blush pink lips. "All the paint and shit all over you.”
You take a long sip of your drink, hoping it would wash away the rising tide of anxiety in your core. "Good to see you too, Mads.”
"So,” She leans in conspiratorially, her breath smelling of booze and mid-tier champagne. “I heard about your gallery show last month. The one at The Maxwell? God, that must have been-“ She trails off, eyes wide with what looks like concern but feels like something else entirely.
Your hand tightens around your glass. "Must have been what?" Your lips tighten into a line, ��It was an- an honor to have the opportunity.”
Words your father had always said to you growing up echo in the far depths of your mind; Honor and Integrity.
There’s a humility in it, in accepting such a nightmare as privilege.
"Well, I mean — I saw that article that was going around Instagram. About how you just up and left? In the middle of opening night?" She takes another sip of champagne, watching you over the rim with her big, stupid brown eyes. "Is that true? That you didn't even come back to collect your pieces? God, that's crazy!"
The word crazy hits like a slap, and you can still feel the panic from that night, the walls closing in as people whispered, pointed, discussed your work like it was a car crash they couldn't look away from and did nothing to aid.
"It's not exactly-"
"And after everything with Matt, and then Jason- ugh,” She shakes her head. "I mean, I get it. Using art as therapy. But maybe actual therapy would be — I dunno — you know, beneficial?”
"Madison-"
"I'm just worried about you," she continues, reaching for your arm and her fingers feel like serpents, coiling around your skin, suffocating you. "We all are. First the whole thing with your poor father — god, remember how he used to say you were just too-"
"Don't." Your voice comes out sharper than intended, your brows furrowed at her like she’d backhanded you. “Don’t you fucking say another word.”
Madison almost gasps, clutching her necklace. “See? This is what I mean. All this reactionary stuff. The anger. The intensity. Have you thought about getting help? My therapist says sometimes when we've been through things-"
The garden somehow feels too small, the fairy lights too bright, the music too loud. Across the room, Luigi is trapped in conversation with the bride's uncle, but somehow he must sense something because his eyes find yours, his head tilted at you, his usual question.
Everything okay?
This time, you look away from him.
"I’m going to leave this conversation before-“
"No, wait, listen." Madison's grip on your arm tightens, slithering, sneering, hissing. Fangs, poison. “That show — people were talking about it for weeks. How raw it was. How fucking uncomfortable it made everyone. One of the pieces — the one with all the broken mirrors? Someone said it looked like a cry for help."
You can feel your pulse in your throat. "It wasn't a fucking-“
"And then you just disappeared! Like, who does that, girl? Just leaves their own show? The curator had to pack up your pieces himself. That's what the article said. Is that true?" She may as well have a microphone beneath your trembling lips, taking on the role of some cheap reporter for a local shittalking magazine.
Of course she read the article.
Everyone read the article.
The one that called your work a disturbing glimpse into a clearly troubled mind. The one that suggested your artistic breakdown was inevitable given your history of emotional instability.
It was laughable, truly, and anyone that knew you well enough had known so much to be so very far from the truth.
"I had my reasons," you manage, but your voice sounds distant even to yourself. “I had reason for leaving the way I did.”
"Obviously you did. That's what I'm saying. Maybe if you got some help, you know, dealt with all this and found ways to properly cope-“ She waves her hand vaguely again, like swatting away a pesky fly. "Then maybe you could make art that's more you know.. accessible. Enjoyable. Less-“
"Less me?" The words come out before you can stop them. “Bullshit. You wouldn’t know, Madison. You haven’t seen a single one of my shows, haven’t shown yourself at any of my gallery openings-“ your cheeks burn red hot, your glass of wine discarded and your hands balled into fists. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking pop that smirk right off your-“
"That's not what I-"
“It is exactly what you fucking-“
“No, it’s not! Look at yourself!”
"Hey!” Luigi's voice cuts through the rising panic. He's suddenly there, solid and real. "Sorry to interrupt, but we have that thing that we have to get to-“ he loops his arm around yours, and he swears he can feel the heat radiating off of you, hot and quivering like a volcano deciding if it’s time to erupt just yet or not.
Madison blinks at him, her nostrils flared at the sudden interruption. It seems as though this is exactly the reaction she wanted, and was pissed the show had called curtains so quickly. "What thing?"
"That very important thing," Luigi says firmly, already guiding you away. "Great catching up. Green is not your color. Go Birds.” As he turns you both, he raises his middle finger behind your back — not because you needed defending, but because that's who Luigi is; all sharp edges and fierce loyalty, a guard dog with his teeth bared in your honor, though, you catch the gesture in a reflection, and something warm unfurls in your chest.
Not because you needed saving, but because he'd always take your side, no matter the circumstances. He didn’t need to know why you were barking at this girl he’d never met before — he already knew you had good reason to do it.
You make it to the venue's back garden before your legs give out, and the fairy lights blur through tears you refuse to let fall. "Did you— fuck,” Your voice shakes as you reach to wipe away the tears before they even get the chance to glide down your cheeks. "Did you actually hear what she was saying or just see it?”
"Caught the greatest hits." His jaw is tight, his hand resting on your lower back as he hunches forward, clearly concerned but approaching all of it carefully.
You can’t help but wonder then how many times you’ll find yourselves like this — Luigi rescuing you from yet another mishap, and that alone could become a new reason to feel sorry for yourself.
And him.
"The article." You wrap your arms around yourself. "She read the fucking article."
Ironically, you had originally taken the article well.
Too well, in fact.
You'd invited them all over — Luigi, Anna, Theo — for what you called A Reading of My Professional Obituary. You'd spent all day in the kitchen, channeling your grandmother's stress-cooking legacy; bouillabaisse simmering for hours, Tarte Tatin caramelizing to golden perfection.
The good wine came out, the kind you'd been saving for a real occasion.
Perched in your chair like it was a throne, wine glass dangling from your fingers, you'd performed dramatic readings of the choicest quotes. "Sources close to the artist describe a history of emotional instability," you'd intoned, affecting a pompous art critic voice that had Luigi choking on his wine. "An unsettling collection that seemed less like art and more like a cry for help.”
The evening devolved into a tipsy game of "Guess the Snitch" — everyone taking turns suggesting increasingly ridiculous candidates for the mysterious source. "It was Gabby, in the gallery, with the emotional manipulation!" Theo had declared, wielding his bouillabaisse spoon like a gavel.
But Luigi had watched you through it all — the way your hand shook slightly when pouring wine, how your laugh got a little too loud to be genuine, and how you'd spent three hours making a perfect French dessert like your life depended on proving you weren't falling apart.
"We all did." Luigi reminds you, his voice gentle but firm. "Christ, we turned it into dinner theater. Remember how Anna did that dramatic interpretation of ' the unsettling collection'?" His hand finds your knee, squeezing. "And it was shit. Not only was it shit — it was cowardly. Didn't even have the spine to name you."
You tilt your head back, using the stars as gravity's help against the tears threatening to spill. The fairy lights from the wedding garden blur into little halos. "I know, but — these people, Lu." Your voice catches, and you hate how it betrays you. "They believe it. They're all walking around thinking I'm some unhinged artist who needs to be sedated and locked away from sharp objects." A laugh escapes, but it's wet and hollow. "God, I wish I'd understood what that article would do. I wish-"
But there's no point in wishing.
The damage was done with surgical precision.
They hadn't needed to use your name — everyone knew exactly whose exhibition had opened at Maxwell Gallery on August fifteenth.
Yours.
The hotel room feels smaller with each passing hour.
You've mastered a careful choreography — sliding past each other in the narrow spaces, maintaining precise distances on the king bed as you both pretend to watch some mindless cooking show. But sometimes, despite your best efforts, you slip. His hand brushes yours as you both reach for the room service menu, your feet touch under the shared blanket; each accidental contact sends you recoiling like a startled cat, though you used to fall asleep during movie nights without a second thought.
When your knee accidentally bumps his as you shift position, you jerk away so violently you nearly fall off the bed.
"Okay." Luigi mutes the TV, turning to face you. "We need to talk about this."
"About what?" But you know exactly what, can feel heat creeping up your neck and it makes you want to run.
"About how we used to share my twin bed during college when you crashed at my place, but now you act like my skin is fucking toxic." His voice is gentle, but there's an undercurrent of hurt that makes your core ache. "Remember that road trip to Detroit? You slept on my chest the whole way back because the car heater was broken.“ he looks desperate, grasping at the last straws of you. “I feel like we hardly look each other in the eyes now.”
You stare hard at the geometric pattern on the duvet, picking at a loose thread. "Things were different then."
"Were they?" He shifts closer, and you fight the urge to move away. "Or are you just scared they weren't?"
You get up abruptly, needing to put physical space between you and that question, the Chicago night spreading out beyond the window, a constellation of lights blurring through unshed tears; each one feels like a witness to this moment, to your cowardice.
"You know what changed," you say finally, arms crossed tight against your chest like armor. "After Maxwell, after the article, after everything became public consumption — I can't be that person anymore.”
"Why not?" His voice is closer now — he's moved to the edge of the bed, but he doesn't approach further. Giving you space while refusing to let you run.
Very classic Luigi.
A laugh escapes you, bitter and dry. "Because now everyone's watching. Waiting for the next shoe to drop. And you-“ You turn just enough to catch his reflection in the window, superimposed over the city lights. "You're too important to me, Lu.”
"So you'd rather just — what? Keep pretending?" There's frustration in his voice now, raw and real. "We both know that's not sustainable. Not when we used to-“ He trails off, and you recall the many countless nights on his cramped couch, your head on his chest, his heartbeat your lullaby to the most restful sleep you’d ever known.
"Maybe not," you admit quietly. "But it's safer than the alternative."
"Safer for who?"
The question almost knocks you off your feet.
Because he's right — this careful distance isn't protecting him. It's protecting you. From vulnerability. From the possibility of loss. From the terrifying reality that despite everything, despite all your jagged edges and dark corners, he's still here.
Still looking at you like you're something precious instead of precarious.
The silence stretches between you, heavy with all the things you're afraid to say, all the ways you're afraid to need him, and even more terrified of the way he needs you.
Eventually, you turn from the window, facing him. "It can't be simple. I won't let it be." Your voice catches. "I push and I pull and I keep everyone at arm's length until they prove me right by leaving."
Luigi stands slowly, like he's approaching a wild animal. "You've been trying so hard to make it impossible," he says softly. "Creating distance, convincing yourself I'll give up." He takes another step closer. "But loving you has always been the easiest thing I've ever done."
"Don't." The word comes out choked, your hand pressing against his chest in hopes that he’ll back away. "Don't say that when you know how complicated — how- how difficult-"
"Difficult?" He's close enough now that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, stood firm but not inching any closer. "You want to talk about difficult? Try watching you date other people. Try sitting across from you at coffee shops for years and watching you cry over them. Try fucking loving you quietly through every gallery opening, every crisis,“ his brows furrow, his nostrils flare, “you don’t get to tell me what loving you is like.”
Your breath catches as he reaches for you.
"You think you're pushing me away?" His voice is barely above a whisper, his hands finally cradling your face, tears dampening your cheeks that blaze with warmth. "I've been yours since that first night you fell asleep on my shoulder during finals week. Everything since then — it's just been waiting."
You clench your jaw, your heart a wild thing against your ribs. This tightrope you and Luigi have been walking for years — this delicate balance of almost-but-not-quite, of maybe-someday-but-not-now — has finally frayed beneath your feet. All those careful steps, those perfectly maintained distances, those nights of pretending your skin didn't burn where he almost touched you.
They’ve led you here, to this hotel room in Chicago, where the fantasy of staying safely suspended between friendship and something more has finally given way to gravity.
And what, you wonder, has Luigi seen in you to make him want to dive deeper into your chaos?
He's already witnessed the 3 AM phone calls when your mind won't quiet, the obsessive cleaning episodes that leave your hands raw and your apartment sterile. He's held you through the tears that come without warning, weathered the anger that burns hot and fast like summer lightning.
You're no manic pixie dream girl — you're the real thing, messy and unpredictable, with a heart that bleeds all over everything it touches.
He's either a storm chaser or a fool, you think.
Some hopeless beast tamer who hasn't realized that some creatures aren't meant to be gentled, that some storms leave nothing but wreckage in their wake.
But that's the thing — to Luigi, you've never been a storm to weather or a beast to tame. He doesn't look at you like you're broken machinery in need of repair, doesn't treat your edges like something to be smoothed away.
Instead, he's spent years matching your pace, stepping back when you needed space, stepping forward when you needed anchor. And now, finally, the weight of all that careful patience has brought him here — raw and honest in this dim hotel room, asking you to either meet him in this space between what you are and what you could be, or lay him to rest.
"Touch me," he says, the words falling soft but heavy in the space between you. His eyes hold yours, steady and sure, "Or let me go.”
The city lights paint his silhouette in gold and shadow, and you realize you've never seen him look so vulnerable, so stripped of the careful composure he always maintains. Your Luigi laid bare — not the patient friend, not the steady shoulder, but a man who's finally reached the end of his endurance.
"What if we break?" The question slips from your lips, small and honest, carrying all the weight of your fears that kept you at such a distance all these years — shattering to pieces, left broken by the man you’d loved the most.
Luigi's eyes soften, and something like a smile — sad and sweet and knowing — tugs at the corner of his lips. "Then we break," he says simply, his thumbs swiping away the tears that slide down your cheeks. "But I'd rather that than spend the rest of my life whole and wondering."
His hands haven’t moved. Patient, steady Luigi, who has never pushed but never fully retreated, either. Who has somehow found this perfect middle ground between staying and going, between asking and waiting.
And maybe that's what finally does it — the realization that he's offering you both beginning and end in the same breath. That he's standing here saying yes to all of it; the possibility of breaking, of shattering, of ending up with nothing but deadly carnage between you.
That he knows exactly what he's asking for, and he's asking anyway.
Your hand moves before you can think yourself out of it again, crossing the space between you like a prayer finally answered. When you cup his face, the scrape of stubble against your palm is both foreign and achingly familiar — like a song you used to know by heart, now half-remembered.
His eyes flutter closed at your touch, and you feel the slight tremor in his jaw, the way he leans into your hand like he's been starving for it.
His breath catches, shaky and soft, and when he speaks, his voice is rough with emotion. "There you are," he whispers against your palm, like he's greeting someone long lost, like you've finally come home after years away. "There you are."
His lips brush your palm once more before he lifts his gaze to yours, eyes dark with something between hope and heartache. "Tell me to pull away," he whispers, voice rough. "Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll go. I'll understand."
But his body betrays him — the slight tremor still present in his jaw under your touch, the way he's still leaning into your hand like he can't help himself. He's offering you an exit, even now. Steady, selfless Luigi, always making sure you have a way out, even when it's killing him to do so.
And that's what breaks you finally — not his touch or his words, but this endless capacity of his to put your needs first.
To stand here offering everything he has left and the chance to walk away from it.
His hand finds your waist, fingers pressing into soft flesh with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. That small sound seems to undo something in him — his control fractures, and suddenly he's pulling you down to him with a urgency that matches your own, your hands bracing against his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath your palms.
"I've thought about this," he confesses roughly, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes heat pool low in your stomach, his thumb tracing a burning path along your hip bone. "Having you like this.”
You can feel the tension coiled in him, the way he's still holding back despite everything. Even now, he's giving you the chance to set the pace, to decide how far this goes. But you're done with hesitation, done with the careful distance you've maintained for so long.
You lean down, letting your lips brush against his ear. "Show me," you whisper, and feel him shudder beneath you. "Show me how you wanted me."
He moves with a swiftness that steals your breath, flipping your positions in one fluid motion. Now he's the one hovering above you, his forearm braced beside your head, other hand still at your waist.
The weight of him, the heat of him so close — it makes your head spin.
"Like this," he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours. "Just like this." He holds you like you’ll run from him — just like he’s watched you run from everything before that doesn’t run from you first.
Your hands find their way to his shoulders, feeling the tension there, the way he's trembling slightly despite his strength. "I'm here," you whisper back, one hand sliding up to cup his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."
74 notes · View notes
cheralith · 13 hours ago
Note
Hear me out
More on the Blk×hp crossover because it has taken over my life
Okay, Kaiser hears a rumour that you and isagi are dating.
This infuriates kaiser to no end. He doesn't know why it pisses him off. He's being extra mean to you, and you can't seem to figure out why. Don't even get me started on Quidditch. He's got it out for Isagi, he's more aggressive towards poor isagi. What if Isagi gets hurt? You're tending to him and omgg it gets him . Bro is loosing his shit atp.
If he sees you guys together at Hogsmeade on Valentine's day...
I just want to see his ass suffer and when he realizes that it's false information lmfao 🤣 and bro was torturing himself (and poor Ness #nessdeservesbetter😔 #justiceforness) over nothing
Yeahh that's it. Please forgive me if there're any grammatical errors
Take care.
Happy Valentines 💝
characters ; michael kaiser
contains ; hogwarts au, slytherin!kaiser, ravenclaw!reader, gryffindor!isagi, mild violence
happy (late) valentine's day, angel! you've put me in a ditzy because of this ask, so i thank you kindly for feeding into my daydreams i quite like this stupid little white boy <3 (also i said in a previous post that yoichi would be a ravenclaw, but i think he suits gryffindor a lil more ngl esp after ch293 :P)
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kaiser would most DEFINITELY be the type of person to let out his anger through his playing, so expect there to be a ton of fouls from him during the gryffindor vs. slytherin match because he just "accidentally" keeps running into isagi, nearly knocking him off his broom more than ounce. it doesn't help that there's been whispers circulating that there's been confirmation of you and isagi officially being a couple after the many speculations from stray eyes that keep a rather close eye on you and him. the golden boy of gryffindor and the ace of ravenclaw... many would agree that you and him would be power couple in the halls of hogwarts, completely disregarding kaiser. it didn't help that evidently, you and isagi got along much better than you and kaiser did, sharing soft smiles and joyous laughter amongst each other rather than hardened glares and quick-witted insults. you were best friends after all, not sworn rivals like you and he were.
slytherin ends up winning the match, kaiser rising victorious by scoring the winning goal to break the tie, but he can't really celebrate his win in full because he sees you later tidying up some wounds and scratches isagi had gotten from the match in the preparation tent. his jaw grits, watching the intimate scene unfurl before him.
isagi hisses through his teeth when you gently place the cotton bud on an open wound on his elbow.
you wince, pulling your hand back. "i'm sorry..."
"no," isagi shakes his head, encouraging you to keep going. "i'm fine, it just stings a bit, 's all..."
you look at him with a doubtful countenance, but dab the alcohol-soaked cotton bud anyway, trying not to notice the way isagi's eyes close in pain. tenderly, you place a band-aid on the skin before you soak another cotton bud and move to the scratch on his cheek, your fingers brushing his reddened cheek (the hue unnoticed by you) when you repeat the process to help disinfect and clean up the small gash.
"he's such a bastard," you mutter softly, "he should've gotten a foul when he nearly knocked you into the hufflepuff stands."
isagi shrugs, "it is what it is."
"is it me or did he seem more pissed than usual?" you inquire, your fingers smoothing over the bandage you've placed over the cut. "like he was taking his anger on you specifically. did you do something to him?"
"hell if i know," isagi sighs, rolling his eyes. "it's hard to read kaiser."
kaiser's eyes narrow as you hold isagi's face in your palm, his nails digging into his palms as he watches you examine him for any spare injuries you didn't tend to. not wanting to infuriate himself with this meddling nonsense, he decides to replace the feeling with pride and glory, stomping out of the tent and replacing the loud throbbing in his ears with the cheers of his fellow slytherins that shout his name in a steady beat as he appears before him.
he bathes in the glory for a bit, letting his ego fill with the approvals of his audience, though from the corner of his eye, he catches a blur of blue and red walk side by side together out of the arena, arm in arm.
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on valentine's day, kaiser receives bucketloads of chocolates from his admirers, both known and unknown. he waves them off when ness presents them, going downstairs to fetch some breakfast, only for him to see you hand isagi a medium-sized golden box of chocolates shaped in a diamond that he accepts gratefully, a large smile on his face before he gives you a bag of candies. you go and give your other friends the same chocolates, a small personalized envelope with a card glued onto the front of it, their names all written in a pretty cursive.
he ditches breakfast, deciding he'll eat later and runs up back to his dorm. for some reason this year, unlike the prior ones, he actually shuffles through all the boxes trying to look for a peculiar, diamond shaped one, and he does find it to his satisfaction. he pulls it out so fast from the pile and rips open the card, anticipating a specific someone's name to be signed at the bottom.
... but his face contorts into irritation when an unknown girl's name is read. who the hell is "imogen?"
he tosses the letter over his shoulder, thinking this was stupid. no way did he just spend fifteen minutes attempting to find a box of chocolates from you, knowing the tense relationship between you and him. of course you wouldn't give him any—you weren't even friends! so why the sudden spark of hope...?
kaiser's valentine's day turns even more sour when he tries to distract himself and goes to hogsmeade to fix himself up some firewhiskey, only to see you and isagi in the window of honeydukes, examining candy together. this didn't seem to be a group trip either, considering he didn't recognize anyone else that you were friends with in the store, so you and him must've went together.
right—he nearly forgot. you were a couple now. of course you'd be spending the holiday of love together. that's just common sense.
"you think she'll like this?" isagi asks you, holding up a basket assortment of many candies. "i don't know what she really likes, so i was thinking i'd play it safe and just get her everything."
you grin and throw him a thumbs up. "good move, i think she'd quite like that. maybe throw in that teddy bear we saw earlier."
he nods with a blush on his face that you can only giggle at. you've never seen your best friend so giddy before, especially since he'll be having his first date with the hufflepuff girl in his astronomy class he's been admiring, a pride within you blooming when he told you excitedly this morning that he'd be going to madame puddifoot's soon with her.
"i'm gonna go pay and then go get ready back at my dorm," says isagi as he nudges his head towards the cash register, the gifts he holds in his hands starting to tumble out of his grasp a little. "i'll see you later at dinner to tell you how everything went!"
"good luck! don't be nervous!" you call out to him when he shuffles through the crowd before returning your attention to examine the luxury chocolates they had just imported from belgium.
a shadow looms over you suddenly, and you feel the temperature drop a bit from the air around you. there's an impending sense of doom that pits itself in your stomach, so it doesn't take you too long to discover the identity of the tattooed hand that snatches the box of chocolates you were examining away.
your jaw ticks.
"i was looking at that," you mutter with irritation, slowly turning back around to face a familiar blonde. "... kaiser."
"hm," kaiser merely hums back nonchalantly, eyes flickering over the assortment of flavors indicated on the back. "never thought you'd have such a sophisticated sweet tooth," he mutters as he reads over the unique flavor profiles of each chocolate.
"god forbid someone wants to go out of their comfort zone," you roll your eyes obnoxiously before picking up another box to assess, not wanting to bother to get back the previous one you were holding. of course somehow kaiser makes your life ten times more difficult whenever he was around, even off campus grounds.
the assortments look so tasty, you think, reading over the details of the feuilletine truffle. maybe you should treat yourself this valentine's day, relishing in fancy chocolates and curling up with a good book sounds like your ideal day of rest. you think you deserve an upgrade from the casual chocolates you were used to purchasing for a quick fix...
... until you look at the price of the box of chocolates.
your eyes nearly bulge out of their head when you read the price.
"forty five galleons?!" you whisper-shout under your breath, only loud enough for the man behind you to hear. kaiser's eyes flicker towards your astonished visage. "merlin, was this made out of unicorn hair or something?!"
you sigh and place the box down on the shelf again, choosing to return back to the safety of the generic honeydukes chocolate bar instead of wasting your money on something that'd disappear all too quickly.
"you're not gonna get it?" kaiser inquires as you begin to look for a way out of the chocolates area.
"as if i have that kind of money," you snort haughtily.
"then ask your boyfriend to buy it. it's valentine's day after all," kaiser snarks back, the words coming out of his lips faster than he's able to fully process them. he curses himself in his mind when he realizes what he's said, revealing the fact that your status as a couple wasn't as hidden as some may say.
"huh?" you turn back with a confused look. "boyfriend? what?"
it's kaiser's turn to look perplexed. "your boyfriend?" he repeats and pokes a stray strand of hair from the top of his head to mimic an ahoge. "yoichi isagi? golden boy of gryffindor? sound familiar?"
your brows furrow and you wonder if he's making fun of you.
"yoichi and i aren't dating," you counter back. "who told you that?"
the way kaiser feels relieved feels unnatural, like a giant weight had just been unburdened from his shoulders. he shouldn't even be feeling this heaviness in the first place, but he did and now it's gone just from the mere words that counter his initial belief.
... he still feels relieved, oddly enough.
"i—" kaiser starts, but draws blanks when he attempts to cover up his nasty acceptance of a mere rumor, feeling idiotic he had believed such a thing so fast and so intently. "it's just floating about. since y'know, you guys are so close... and stuff," he mutters hotly.
your lip curls in annoyance. "never thought you'd be one to accept rumors so loosely," you mimic his tone from earlier, crossing your arms. a vein pops in kaiser's forehead at your arrogance, and he opens his mouth to give you a snide response back, but you begin to turn on your heel.
"don't believe such stupid shit so fast," you say, waving a hand to indicate your leave. "it won't do you good in the long-run."
kaiser is eventually left alone in the chocolate aisle, a little flabbergasted at what just happened. he watches you as you exit the store by yourself, choosing not to buy anything while he's in the vicinity. a warmth blooms within kaiser's chest however, when he repeats your denial of a relationship in his head.
"yoichi and i aren't dating."
"they're not dating," kaiser mumbles to himself as he grips the box of expensive chocolates in his hands with a small smile. "yeah... they're not dating."
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that evening, you later find a delicately wrapped box placed on your desk with your name on it. you take off the green ribbon and rip open the white wrapping paper and widen your eyes to what's revealed from inside.
it was the box of expensive belgian chocolates you were looking at just hours beforehand. you're astonished, thinking who on earth had spend this much money on you when you try and find the sender of the package, only to be met with a short, mysterious inscription on the back of the box's lid.
"happy valentine's day. eat well and enjoy." —🌹
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csprint · 3 days ago
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he wants a baby
jackson wang x f. reader
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jackson doesn’t think there’s anything he’s ever wanted more. he’s thought about it early in your relationship, when he truly realized that you’re the one. the one he could start a family with. and when he was sure of it, he was never afraid to share with you how much he wanted this. a baby.
he talked about it a lot with you. it became your regular pillow talk. “you want it too though, right? like, you think about it sometimes?” jackson would ask while holding your back against his chest in bed. his voice always got awfully quiet and soft during those moments compared to his normal tone.
you’d indulge him, tiredly listening or answering him in the best way that wouldn’t make him think having a baby is completely off the table.
he gets so excited, thinking about those things so far ahead. he made sure to promise you that he would take such good care of her. promised he’ll be there to watch her every step. and he was sure to use ‘her’ because he had the deepest feeling that your first child would be a girl.
“of course i do, jackson. it sounds so nice but.. just not right now. it’s not the right time.”
and he’d nod in understanding. your lives were just insanely busy, bringing a child into the relationship while things weren’t slowing down as soon as you’d liked it to, would probably bring more chaos than joy.
“but one day, right? we’ll have a baby one day, won’t we?” he whispered quietly in the darkness of the room, burying his face in your hair.
you pulled apart his hands from where his fingers locked over your stomach and brought it up to your lips, leaving soft kisses on the back of it. “one day.”
but as the weeks turned into months, that one day was never brought up again. after things had finally calmed down a bit, he thought that maybe you’d be the first to bring it up because he didn’t want to seem too desperate, (although he was) but you never did.
jackson silently planned things out to himself. it was going to be nothing but staying home and wasting time together. he even planned the day he was going to propose to you. not exactly in that order.
he was even convinced he was being given signs, just from a simple and innocent encounter with a fan who happened to be a new mother. she wore a white dress and all jackson could think about was what you’d look like in a white dress, post-birth glow.
the fat, rosy cheeked baby sat in her stroller, squealed in utter joy, easily entertained at the childish game jackson had initiated. a smile almost wider than his face came playing onto his lips, entranced and in complete awe of the adorable infant and her baby giggles.
jackson doesn’t think there’s anything he’s ever wanted more.
the night dragged on as it usually did. attending important parties with you because something’s always being celebrated. and then leaving before someone could convince him to take a private plane to another party in a different city.
when you made it back to your hotel room, there was just no way he could keep his hands off of you. kissing all over your face and neck, gripping each part of your body he possibly could and dug his fingertips into your plushy skin.
there was just no way he could stop himself. not when you’re so warm around him, your gasps and whimpers echoing in his ear. not when he’s so balls deep inside of you, his fingers gripping tight on the sheets, making his knuckles turn white.
“tell me when to stop.” he choked out, the vein running down the side of his neck looking prominent.
“w-why?” you didn’t want him to stop and you didn’t know why he’d ask that of you.
“cause if you don’t,” he groaned, hips snapping forward into yours, “i’m afraid i might put a baby in you.” jackson closed his eyes, not sure he wanted to see your reaction, and leaned his forehead against your shoulder.
the soft gasp you let out didn’t go unnoticed or the way you clenched around him, making him draw a sharp breath. he tried to get himself to stop, brought his rutting to a minimum but didn’t completely still inside of you because that would have been pure torture.
“okay.”
jackson sweetly whimpered when you tangled your fingers in his hair and gently tugged at it, making his head tilt back up. he looked at you with widened eyes and a slightly parted mouth.
“okay?” he repeated, wanting to be sure that he heard you correctly.
“yeah.” you shrugged. “i want you to put a baby in me.”
he was so blissful, removing himself completely off of your body and burying his face in his hands. you allow him to revel in it. even if he was too loud, putting you both at risk of getting kicked out. even if he was jogging around the room, nakedly, with his fists in the air, as if he’s won a boxing match. you didn’t mind if he basked a little more.
“we’re going to make the fattest, most cutest baby girl, ever.” you felt jackson’s body again, his frame fit like a missing jigsaw piece.
“what makes you so sure it’s going to be a girl?”
“i’ve got a really good sense for these things. trust me. you’re having a girl.”
your heart suddenly got overly emotional. he was so beautiful and you were in complete awe over his certainty. it didn’t take long for your gawking to finish before his lips were feverishly against yours.
he was so desperate, yet so slow, savoring the moment. the feelings that he caused to belly within you were unexplainable.
jackson lowered his mouth to your breast then took the nipple between his lips, pressing lightly with his tongue. you cried out – like your whole body was too hot and you couldn't breathe – bringing up a hand to trace his fingers across your other breast, but if he stopped you felt like you would die. you gripped his bare shoulders, holding on for dear life against the onslaught of sensations.
you gasped as he pushed into you for the second time, amazed by the electricity that rocketed through you. your legs wrapped around his hips of their own accord, seeking a better angle, searching for more. even now, he moved with grace, sliding in and out of you slowly and steadily. only his rapid breath, occasionally coming out in a strangled moan.
it’s pure torture how slow he is sliding into you but feels exquisite. you gently roll against him, moaning as he slowly moves in and out of you. the pace is keeping the orgasm just out of reach, keeping you on edge; desperately clenching around him and pushing your hips into his to increase speed. but jackson’s hands remain firm on your hips, controlling the movements. both of your breathing is heavy, both moaning loudly as the need to find your release hits an all-time high.
going so slow was hard for him as well, though. he couldn’t hold it for long but he also didn’t want to rush it. and he never liked cumming before you did. what kind of man would that make him? had to treat you right.
jackson dropped down to his elbows, leaning on either side of your face as he panted heavily, the foot of your heels digging into the curve at bottom of his spine.
“please, just a little harder…I need more…I can't…take it…oh god, jackson– “
he interrupted you with a hard kiss, hips rutting a little faster now. the rush of pleasure hit you, and your fingers grasped for purchase on his back, needing an anchor. it was almost unbearable, the electricity building where the two of you were joined, tingling down to your toes and making you lightheaded. jackson panted hot air against your neck, your lips, kissing you again and again, and the energy was building and building.
you looked at his face, knowing his was trying to hold on a little longer. maybe the realization had seriously hit him for real, this time. that this was it and he’ll probably be an actual dad like he wanted.
“jackson,” you panted, cupping his face with your hands, fingers wiping the sweaty hairs that stuck to his forehead, “it’s time.” you whispered.
and he nodded and replied, “okay.” his voice weak and strained.
you noticed his movements had grown more erratic, almost frantic, and the low grunt deep in his throat seemed to shudder down your spine and rocket down to where your bodies were joined.
"oh god," you breathed as the sensation overload finally seized you. your chest was tight and your nerves sizzled and your thighs clenched as the pleasure exploded and seeped into every cell of your body. he groaned, his forehead dropping down to your shoulder when your walls fluttered around him.
you fell into the aftershocks when he thrust into you one last time and cried out your name. you felt the rush of fluid inside you and reveled in the feel of his body shuddering in your arms. he trapped you under his heavy weight but the kisses he softly peppered along your neck and collarbone made you forget that it was hard to breathe.
not even mere seconds after, he started moving again, pushing even deeper, a whimper escaping your lips.
“j-jackson?” you stuttered, thighs tensing around his hips.
“one more time,” he grunts as he suddenly began to pound into you heavily even after he had already came, “just to be sure.”
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