☆彡Loni @polarkitt77 - Tumblr Blog

I be liking my own posts . and my own comments . why do we shame people on ig for doing this

ive posted it once and I'll post in again, I NEED the BEST, GUT WRENCHING, TOE CURLING, NAIL BITING, MIND BLOWING Fred Weasley, Cedric Diggory, and Draco fic recs u all have.

help help! a while back, I read this amaaazing bakugo/reader fic on ao3 or wattled I believe where Bakugo is on a football team and is known for having an outburst when being beat by dekus team, who's team name is the vigilantes. Reader is a social media manager for bakugos fb team, and it was literally a life changing fic and I need to find it but I literally can't, does ANYONE know the name of this pic plsplsplsplspslpsl

#mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo smut #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #mha #kirishima eijirou #ao3 fanfic #denki x reader #mina ashido #katsuki bakugo mha

jennieloversclub

HARRY POTTER FIC REC

Include: Harry , Ron , Fred , George , Oliver , Neville and Cedric

polarkitt77

you ANGEL

i need some crazy ass fred weasley fic recs like yesterday pls help a sister out

#smut #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter #george weasley #fred weasly x reader #george weasly x reader #fanfic #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott smut #fred wealsey fic #james potter #lily potter

st4r1ightzz

polarkitt77

when im reading smut and y/n’s tongue starts “lolling out”

polarkitt77

hi guys now that ive had my 3 seconds of fame can u all follow me i swear im funny ty

yk whats more painful than only finding smut you’ve already read on ur favorite x reader tag? finding ONLY meme posts on ur favorite x reader tag. genuinely ruins my fucking day

#ik yalk dgaf #smut #i cant jt makes me so mad #UGH #x reader #relatable

eris-princess

no time for talking stages is your dick mine or what

polarkitt77

felt

when im reading smut and y/n’s tongue starts “lolling out”

mzyjxu

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒

in the beginning of your relatioship, you and satoru were almost comically shy with each other. it wasn’t exactly awkward it was rather the sweet kind of careful, like every word mattered, every slight touch was heart racing and everyday finding a new detail on eachother's face. you were still learning the patterns, still memorising the pitch of your laugh and the exact shade of his smile when it was meant only for you. everything felt fragile in the best way, like you were holding a secret the world hadn’t discovered yet. and somewhere in between quiet walks home and late night talks that neither of you wanted to end, your love languages started to bloom.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒

you learned to talk with your eyes when it came to satoru. all the quality time you spent together was a rhythm of talking, giggling, and then meeting each other’s gaze a little too long before breaking into a blush. just having him there made you feel seen. neither of you ever said “make time for me” out loud, it felt too forward but somehow, without telling the other, you’d both reshuffle your entire day just to spend a few extra minutes together. you’d say a casual “yeah, i’m free,” like it was no big deal, as if you hadn’t quietly built your schedule around him.

one evening, you were half asleep from studying, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye. he looked just as tired, but stayed put. “you good?” you asked softly, tilting your head toward him.

“mm, yeah. tell me what happened next,” he murmured, smiling a little.

“okay so then...”

you ended up talking a bit more, curled up on the sofa in your room, until one slow blink turned into a three hour nap. when you both woke up, hair messy and eyes heavy, you caught each other’s gaze and just started laughing, the sound filling the quiet. from that night on, quality time often meant falling asleep together without even meaning

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒

acts of service began quietly in winter, the kind of season where the air holds its breath and you can almost hear a heartbeat if you stand still enough. maybe that’s why you noticed the little things more like how he’d angle his arms toward you in the wind, how you’d tug his scarf higher when the cold bit at his neck. it wasn’t loud or showy; it was a steady flow building between you, a quiet understanding that didn’t need to be spoken.

like the night he showed up outside the library at 2 a.m., snowflakes catching in his hair.

“what are you doing here?” you blinked at him from the steps, your voice soft from hours of silence.

“picking you up,” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“but i didn’t even tell you—”

“exactly. what if you froze on the way home?” he grinned, brushing a stray snowflake off your cheek, and you realised there was no arguing with someone who had already decided you were his responsibility.

in return, you found yourself thinking about him when you drop tiffins at his workplace because you suspected he’d skipped lunch, sneaking a thermos of hot tea into his office during late cases. it wasn’t grand gestures, just quiet proof that you were learning each other’s needs before either of you had to say them.

the biggest proof came the first time he fell sick. satoru wasn’t a good patient, he tried to insist he was fine, that a bit of fever wouldn’t slow him down. you sat cross-legged on his bed, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead while he stubbornly muttered, “you don’t have to fuss.”

“i’m not fussing,” you said, adjusting the blanket over him, “i’m making sure you don’t die on my watch.”

“dramatic,” he rasped, but his eyes softened, and by the time you coaxed him into sipping soup, his smile was drowsy and grateful.

after that, neither of you questioned these small services, it had become another language, one you both were fluent in. waiting...patience for eachother became your act of service.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒

you’d never been good with words...too many years of loneliness had made them feel heavy, something to guard. satoru wasn’t much different; his troublemaker childhood had left him thinking praise was for other people.

but that night, you sat curled up with tea while he read case notes on the couch. maybe it was the lamplight or the rare crease of focus on his face, but the words slipped out before you could stop them. “you’re… really good at what you do. i am so proud of you.”

he froze, meeting your eyes like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “you mean that?”

“of course.”

a quiet laugh escaped him, almost shy. “then i guess… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

after that, the words came easier, offhand compliments over morning coffee, thank yous tucked into your names, each one a little lighter than the last.

your words of affirmation became building little weaves of safety nets in each other’s minds, so that even on the worst days, you’d still hear the other’s voice reminding you that you’re worth loving.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒

you’d been crocheting his sweater in every pocket of time you could steal. between patient rounds. while waiting for lab results. even during your bathroom breaks, hunched over your yarn like it was the top most secret operation no one knew except the ball of yarn that lived in the bottom of your bag, always ready to appear when you had five quiet minutes.

satoru’s approach to gift giving took a different kind of time. he started taking extra shifts, the kind that left his voice raspier and his hair messier than usual. you didn’t notice at first as he was good at laughing through exhaustion but then, one evening, he appeared at your door with a big, clumsy box in his hands.

“it’s not fancy,” he said, a faint grin tugging at his mouth, “but i thought… you should be able to see all the things you love without having to squint at the sky.

inside was a telescope. not glossy or high tech it was small, a little wobbly on its stand but perfect in the way that mattered.

that night, you sat out on the balcony together, the city noise muffled into a soft hum, his arms draped over your shoulders. he was wearing your crocheted sweater, its stitches uneven, sleeves just a little too long but he was showing it off like it was haute couture. you kept laughing every time the telescope tilted off course, and he kept laughing every time you misnamed a constellation.

the stars didn’t look that different through the lens, but the way he kept sneaking glances at you made the whole sky feel closer.

and maybe gift giving, for the two of you, was never about price tags or perfection. it wasn’t about the sweater being flawless or the telescope being the best money could buy. it was about the quiet hours stolen from busy days, the care tucked into each loop of yarn, the shifts worked past midnight. it was about finding a way to say “i thought of you” without ever needing the words.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒

physical touch bloomed last, shy and careful, like it needed time to trust itself. you’d always kept a little space, hands brushing in passing, knees touching under the table for just a heartbeat before pulling away. it was enough, until it wasn’t.

that night, the world felt heavier than you could carry. you were walking home alone, the air damp with the kind of chill that settled in your bones, your eyes stinging from holding back tears all day. streetlights stretched shadows on the wet pavement, and you had your head down. until you saw him.

satoru.

he was leaning against a lamppost a few metres ahead, hands in his coat pockets, head tilted like he’d been watching the street for a while. his hair caught the light in silver streaks, and for a moment, you thought you’d imagined him. but then he looked up...right at you...and his eyes softened.

your throat tightened. “satoru?”

“hey,” he said, his voice low, almost uncertain.

you didn’t think. you ran. the tears spilled before you even reached him, your breath catching on the cold air. when you crashed into his chest, you felt his whole body jolt in surprise before his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in so tightly it was like he’d been waiting for you all along.

“i… i had such a bad day,” you managed, your voice muffled against his coat.

his chin rested on top of your head, his own words unsteady. “me too.”

the world was quiet except for your shaky breaths, his hand moving slowly up and down your back.

“you weren’t supposed to be here,” you whispered.

“couldn’t stay away,” he murmured. and he held you there, not letting go, like maybe neither of you needed to anymore.

for a long time, neither of you moved. the night air bit at your skin, but in that circle of warmth, it didn’t matter. under the quiet sky, you held each other like it was the only thing that could keep you whole.

maybe, for you both, physical touch wasn’t just a love language. it was the answer.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒𓏸𓂃 𓈒