#but i had to express this overwhelming feeling

[amoressb]

───── TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ just two best friends being oblivious to their love for each other ｡｡ bestfriend!riki x reader . fluff & wc. 1.0k ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

riki and you had been best friends since middle school. the type of best friends who communicated through facial expressions alone, who texted each other memes at three in the morning, and who had an entire language of inside jokes no one else could understand. you two bickered like an old married couple, stole food off each other’s plates without permission, and shared your wildest dreams without hesitation.

too bad you two were completely oblivious to the fact that you were in love with each other. so when riki surprised you with tickets to universal studios, you had tackled him in a hug, nearly knocking him over.

“you are officially my favorite person ever,” you declared, eyes sparkling. “i better be, these tickets were not cheap,” riki joked, though he looked pretty pleased with himself.

the moment you two stepped into the park, the chaos began. both running from ride to ride like little kids, shoving each other playfully as you two argued over what to do next. you screamed the loudest on roller coasters (riki swore you shattered his eardrum on jurassic world), while riki attempted to set a new personal record for how many butterbeer flavored treats a person could consume in one day.

“are you sure you should be eating another one?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as riki took a huge bite of a butterbeer flavored churro.

riki waved you off, “please, my stomach is built for this.”

not even an hour later, he was groaning on a bench, his head in your lap as you laughed mercilessly at his misery.

“laugh it up,” he grumbled. “oh, i will,” you teased, poking his cheek. “this is what you get for underestimating butterbeer.”

by nightfall, you two finally made your way to super nintendo world. the moment you stepped in, both of you were hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. the neon lit mushroom kingdom surrounded you and riki, the familiar game music playing softly in the background.

“riki.” you grabbed his arm, shaking him with excitement. “we’re in mario land!”

“i know,” riki grinned. “this is literally my childhood dream come true!”

“okay, we have to go on mario kart : bowsers challenge,” you said, practically vibrating with excitement.

“oh, absolutely,” riki agreed. “and i’m so ready to destroy you.”

“in your dreams, loser.”

as soon as you got into your karts, the competition began. you threw yourselves into the ride, dodging banana peels, throwing shells, and laughing way too hard when one of you got hit. by the time you two stumbled off, breathless and giddy, you and him were still arguing about who had won.

“i definitely won,” you declared.

“you literally lost at the finish line,” riki shot back. “just accept that i’m superior.”

“please yeah right—” you groaned and shoved his shoulder.

it was supposed to be playful, but riki, being the clumsy guy that he was, lost his balance. instinctively, he grabbed onto your wrist, but that just made you stumble too and suddenly—you two crashed into each other.

your faces were way too close.

neither of you moved. you could feel rikis breath against your lips and you were very aware of the fact that your hands were gripping his hoodie while his fingers were curled around your wrist.

everything around you—the neon lights, the distant game music, the sound of other people laughing—blurred into the background. the only thing that existed in that moment was him.

and then riki, looking dazed and definitely not thinking straight, mumbled, “if i kissed you right now, would that be really stupid or only kind of stupid?”

your brain short circuited. “wh—” you opened your mouth, but no words came out. “did you just—”

riki blinked, his own words catching up to him. his face immediately turned bright red. “i—i didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he stammered.

you stared at him, your heart pounding. the worst part? you didn’t hate the idea. in fact, it was like something clicked in your brain—all the teasing, all the lingering touches, all the everything suddenly made sense.

“oh my gosh,” you whispered. “what?” riki asked nervously.

“i’m in love with you.” the words slipped out before you could stop them and as soon as you said them, your eyes went wide. “oh no.”

“oh no?” riki repeated, staring at you. “why oh no?”

“because..” you groaned, covering your face. “because now i can’t pretend i don’t have feelings for you and now our friendship is going to be so weird, and i—”

“y/n.”

you peeked through your fingers. riki was staring at you, wide eyed, looking like you had just revealed the greatest secret in the universe and then…he grinned.

“you love me,” he repeated, and he sounded way too smug about it. you scowled, “shut up.”

“no, this is amazing,” riki said, his grin widening. “because guess what?”

“what.”

“i’m also in love with you.”

you blinked. “wait…what?”

“you heard me,” riki said, rocking back on his heels. “i love you. i have probably always loved you and if we weren’t in the middle of mario land, i would definitely be kissing you right now.” you gaped at him, “we’re in mario land, riki.”

“i know,” he smirked. “which is why i’m gonna kiss you right here and make it the most iconic confession in history.”

you barely had time to react before riki leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as he kissed you—warm, soft, and so so long overdue. eventually you melted into him, your hands fisting his hoodie.

when you pulled apart, your face was on fire. “that was—”

“amazing?” riki grinned. “i was gonna say stupid, but sure.” riki laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “you totally lost mario kart, by the way.” you groaned, “you’re lucky i love you.”

“yeah you do” he smiled. you rolled your eyes playfully with a smile as you lean into his arms, head sort of resting on his shoulder/chest, his hand that was around your shoulder intertwined with your right hand.

and just like that, two oblivious idiots in love finally got their happy ending…at mario land, of all places.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz

[tousey-mousey]

To be clear, I'm about to disagree with this post, but I also do not want to trigger anyone including OP who may be working through some shit. Please do not read below the cut if that would upset you or if right now you're just working through some shit and need to express yourself.

The emotional timbre of your post is valid, even if I wanna disagree with some points. You are allowed to feel hurt, to feel ignored, or to feel isolated. You are allowed to feel pain. I hope that working through that brings you peace.

It is so fucking sinister that the only form of child abuse that society really cares about is sexual in nature.

So. I understand your point? But I simply do not agree. Society recognises an enormous number of things as child abuse that do not, at all, include sexual abuse. However, sexual abuse is unique because it can never FAIL to be abusive. There is no amount of sexualising or sexual contact with a child that can be seen as acceptable by the overwhelming majority of our society. This means that, unlike the other ways that society recognises children can be abused, nobody can raise even a shadow of a doubt that a parent having sexual contact with their child is not abusive. It is ALWAYS abusive.

On the other hand... restricting a child's choices of foods, for example, can be non-abusive. If a 10-year-old wants to drink wine with daddy, then that kid's dad is considered to be abusive if he DOES NOT restrict that choice.

Restricting clothing choices can be the less abusive of two option: if a boy wants to go to school wearing shorts and T-shirt and won't take no for an answer even though it's snowing outside, his parents would be considered neglectful for NOT restricting that choice.

A 9-year-old girl who wants to take up gymnastics needs to be carefully monitored, and both her parents and her coach could be considered neglectful or abusive for driving her too hard when it could and sometimes does permanently damage bone structure. Australia has recently had a massive scandal over the Australian Institute of Sport (AIS) being alleged to have covered up cases of parents and coaches allowing children to make dangerous choices, or even encouraging or forcing children to make dangerous choices, regarding gymnastics. While sexual assault allegations are in there, the majority of the scandal is around parents and coaches who were physically and, importantly, emotionally abusing their children with respect to gymnastics at a young age, knowing that it would harm the children but allowing or encouraging it anyway. This is going to result in and has ALREADY resulted in criminal charges and even convictions for abuse. It is taken seriously.

Children can make bad choices in all sorts of ways. A parent is given wide latitude to control things like whether a child goes to a specific church in part because of organisations like the Jehovah's Witnesses, who a few years ago were sued for predatory conduct regarding children at a children's hospital here. They were banned from the hospital grounds or from being within line-of-sight of the hospital while preaching, and part of the issue was that they were predating children and using them to try to wedge their way into families at a young age during a time of strife and fear. Similarly, when a parent DOES go too far the other way, at least here in Australia the courts DO recognise that as abusive. Again using the Witnesses as an example, a Witness family took the government to court because a hospital wanted to force a blood transfusion on a 17-year-old boy with leukaemia and both he and the parents refused. The courts found that the boy had, essentially, been abused into his faith by his parents and that it wasn't a free and fair choice, so he was forced to get the transfusion until he turned 18 at which point he could make the call himself again - by which time, notably, he would be most likely cured. The family were found by the court to have been, basically, abusive, and their rights were removed as a result.

The problem is that kids are fucking idiots. That's by design: they're born knowing nothing and need to be taught everything. They have no understanding of how to make good choices and everything they are and have needs to be given to them over time. However, they do not learn it instantly: it is a process, and one that takes multiple decades to really get good at doing. Children are, therefore, going to attempt to make choices long before they are able to make GOOD choices, and so their carers NEED to be able to control those choices and deny them certain choices in order to keep them safe from themselves.

Kids will see a person claim to make caramel in the microwave by putting sugar and water in a bowl and leaving it on high for 15 minutes. This will, without a doubt, end badly. However, the child does not know that. They do not have the ABILITY to know that. Their parent NEEDS to be able to keep them safe from that.

However, in the process, they are restricting their child's free action, their child's food, their child's behaviours and movements, and may need to punish a child who repeatedly refuses to understand WHY they're being restricted and keeps trying to do it anyway. All those things that you see as abusive are, in this case, VITALLY important to keeping that kid alive and unburnt.

Unfortunately, the ways in which children can be incalculably stupid are similarly incalculable. As a result, parents need very wide latitude to control their children's behaviours and so the wiggle room needed to keep a kid safe is also enough to allow bad parents to abuse children. This does not mean abuse is "built into the system". It just means that there is no good system that can be designed that doesn't make abuse possible. It is not intentional and it is not "built in" - there's just no way to safely "build it out".

It is so fucking sinister that the only form of child abuse that society really cares about is sexual in nature. parents are free to control everything about their child's movement, presentation, eating, faith traditions, information exposure, socialization, and can restrict all of these things to an extreme degree as a form of punishment or in order to shape the child into whatever they want that child to be. and that's all considered completely normal, the parent's right! people don't even see the fact that a parent has the power to control so much about a child's life for damn near 20 years to be a problem. The only time they become concerned about child abuse is when the prospect of an outside stranger behaving in a sexual way toward a child is raised. and yeah a lot of really horrific sexual abuses are enacted unto children, but that's because they have zero control over their own lives and bodies in any other way as well. It is all about power and control. and typically the ones who are abusing children the most frequently are the ones who have the most control over them, the parents.

[00valentina-writes00]

Please do bratty reader x sevika. Overstimulation for punishment till reader cries but sevika doesn't stop because reader said 8 in a row isn't plenty.

I fear for some of your guy’s sanity tbh (this is so hot yes ofc)

♡♥︎“Not Plenty, Huh?”♥︎♡

Warnings: overstimulation, Sevika is Sevika, don’t mouth off to Sevika guys, fingering

Sevika’s fingers are wrapped tight around your jaw, her grip firm enough to keep your head still but not enough to hurt—yet. Her grey eyes flicker with something dark, something amused, something predatory as she watches you squirm beneath her.

“Eight in a row isn’t plenty?” she echoes, her lips curving into a smirk that makes your stomach flip. “That what you said, sweetheart?”

You had said that, with all the bratty defiance you could muster, panting, shaking, already spent but still running your mouth because you thought you could handle more.

Now?

Now, you’re a fucking mess.

Your thighs are trembling, slick and sticky with the evidence of your previous orgasms, the sheets beneath you ruined with your arousal. Your body is hypersensitive, nerves shot to hell, but Sevika isn’t the type to let you get away with mouthing off.

Her hand drags down the length of your torso, slow and deliberate, the heat of her palm leaving goosebumps in its wake. She takes her time, savoring the way you tremble, the way your breath hitches when her fingers slip lower—

And then she presses against your clit.

You sob, your back arching, body jolting at the sensation. It’s too much, the pressure sending a sharp, overwhelming wave of pleasure-pain straight through you, but Sevika just chuckles.

“Sensitive, baby?” she taunts, rubbing slow, lazy circles over your swollen clit, her touch barely there but still devastating. “Thought you could take more.”

You shake your head, eyes squeezing shut, but that’s not the answer she wants.

“Eyes on me,” she orders, voice dropping to a warning growl.

You force them open, tears clinging to your lashes, and Sevika fucking grins.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, pressing down harder, making you wail. “Already crying and I haven’t even gotten started.”

You whimper, shaking your head again, but there’s no mercy in her expression.

“You wanted more, didn’t you?” she purrs, her voice all honeyed mockery. “Go on, baby. Beg me to stop.”

You could. You should. But you’re too far gone, too fucked out to form words, only managing a choked gasp when she slips two fingers into you without warning, your walls clamping down so hard she groans at the feeling.

“Fuck,” she grits out, “squeezing me so damn tight, baby.”

She doesn’t wait for you to adjust. Doesn’t slow down. Just starts fucking you with those thick, relentless fingers, curling them just right, hitting that spot inside you that has your vision whiting out.

You sob her name, a desperate, wrecked little thing, your hands scrabbling at her wrist, your whole body shaking with overstimulation.

“Aww,” she coos, mock sympathy dripping from her tone. “Too much? Too bad.”

She doesn’t stop. Not when your legs try to snap shut around her hand. Not when your breath stutters. Not when another orgasm slams into you so hard it rips a scream from your throat.

You’re crying now, tears spilling freely, but Sevika just fucking smirks.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead against yours, voice dripping with wicked amusement. “That’s only nine.”

[joelsrose]

Stay

just something short and sweet before I go to bed ☁️

The room was dim, the last slivers of daylight bleeding through the boarded-up windows, casting long, jagged shadows over the battered walls. It had been a shit patrol. Not because of the infected—you’d handled that fine—but because of him.

Because of the way Joel never seemed to trust your calls, always thinking he knew best, always overruling you like you were some rookie when you’d been doing this just as long.

The disagreement had bled into everything, into the way you ignored him on the walk back, into the way you moved around the safe house now, stiff with frustration, jaw tight.

And Joel, of course, was as relaxed as ever, lounging back against the old couch, legs spread, arm slung across the backrest, watching you with that unreadable expression.

“Sit,” he commanded as you walked past. Just that. No softness in his tone, no coaxing. Just an order, like he expected you to obey.

You didn’t. You kept walking.

But before you could take another step, his hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist, strong and sure. The next thing you knew, the world tilted—your breath caught in your throat as you stumbled, his pull drawing you down before you could resist. You landed against him, awkwardly but undeniably, his arm already looping around your waist to steady you, keeping you there as you found yourself perched sideways on his lap.

His thigh was firm beneath you, the heat of him bleeding through the layers of fabric, grounding you, overwhelming you. Your side pressed against his chest, your hand instinctively bracing against his shoulder, but the tension in his hold left no room for escape. The scent of leather and wood smoke—so distinctly Joel—washed over you, making your thoughts scatter, your pulse quicken.

“Joel,” you breathed, the word shaky, your fingers twitching where they rested on him. You tried to push up, tried to create some distance, but his grip only tightened, his arm an iron band around your waist.

“Stay,” he said, his voice low, firm, and completely immovable. “And talk.”

Your heart stuttered, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once—the way you were perched awkwardly on his lap, his arm a solid weight around your waist, keeping you there like it was the most natural thing in the world. You could feel the warmth of him through every point of contact, the steadiness of his chest beneath your palm, the unrelenting grip of his hand on your hip. It was overwhelming, distracting, maddening.

“Joel,” you said, cheeks burning as you gestured to yourself, to the utterly inappropriate position he’d pulled you into. “Like this?” Your brows furrowed, incredulous, trying to inject some sense into the madness. “You want to talk like this?”

“Like this,” he repeated, his tone unbothered, calm, like he didn’t see a single thing wrong with it. If anything, there was the faintest flicker of amusement in his voice, as though he enjoyed watching you fluster and scramble for control.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, avoiding his gaze as you felt the heat climb higher in your cheeks.

“Like this,” he said again, slower this time, more deliberate, like he was daring you to challenge him, to push back against the closeness he’d so unapologetically created.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your words were lodged somewhere in your throat, your mind too clouded with the way his arm hadn’t budged, the way his voice seemed to settle low in your stomach, curling like heat.

“You seemed so angry a minute ago,” he murmured, his voice rough, steady. “Now you can’t even look at me?”

“I am angry,” you shot back, though the words sounded thin, wavering, even to your own ears.

“Not convincing,” he said, and damn him, he had the nerve to smirk. That cocky, lopsided smirk that made your stomach flip in a way you absolutely refused to acknowledge.

You bristled, heat flooding your face as you pushed against his chest, trying to get up, trying to put some distance between you and the unbearable tension simmering in the air. But his arm tightened, holding you in place like it was nothing, like you weren’t even trying.

“Joel,” you warned, voice sharp, though it faltered just slightly when his gaze pinned you, unrelenting and far too steady.

“Hmm?” he drawled, the sound low, infuriating, like he wasn’t taking you seriously at all. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you and didn’t care in the slightest.

“Let me go,” you said, though the words came out softer than you intended, betraying you.

And then, just as you opened your mouth to argue, to tell him off, he leaned in—slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to watch you fall apart.

The air thickened, charged, and you froze, your breath catching as his face came closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint crease of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His gaze flicked down, grazing over your parted mouth, and you knew—you knew—he was going to kiss you.

And you didn’t stop him.

His lips brushed yours, soft but deliberate, testing the waters in a way that made your pulse stutter and your chest ache. It wasn’t rushed or hungry. It was worse.

Slow, tantalizing, a kiss that was all heat and restraint, one that made the tension in your stomach coil tighter, higher, until you swore you’d snap. The hand on your waist shifted, his fingers pressing firmer, pulling you just a breath closer as he deepened the kiss—not too much, not yet—but enough to leave you spinning, enough to steal the breath from your lungs and replace it with nothing but him.

And just as you started to lean in, as your body gave in without hesitation, he pulled back.

Your breath was unsteady, lips parted, cheeks burning as you blinked at him, stunned. And he had the audacity—the nerve—to look like that. That achingly tender smile curved his lips, boyish and mischievous, like he knew exactly what he’d done to you. Like he knew you’d play this moment over and over again in your head long after it was gone. It didn’t match the hard edges of his face, the weathered lines carved by time and grief and everything else that made him, him. But it was there, soft and devastating, and it made your stomach flip in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

“Still mad?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, that smirk deepening as his hand caressed your waist, keeping you rooted firmly in place.

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Your throat felt dry, your heart a chaotic drumbeat in your chest. All you could do was sit there, flushed and silent, because you didn’t trust yourself to answer—not when your body had betrayed you so completely, melting into his as though it belonged there.

He didn’t need an answer, though. His gaze dropped, taking in the way you sat pliant and breathless, the way your fingers had curled instinctively into the fabric of his shirt, holding on to him like you didn’t want to let go.

His smirk softened, just barely, his thumb brushing the curve of your waist in a way that sent another shiver racing down your spine. “Didn’t think so,” he murmured, voice rough but warm, his gaze lingering on your face for just a moment longer before he finally leaned back, that maddening smile still tugging at his lips.

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader valveplug, minors don't interact!

based on this delicious ask about orion overloading from inhaling your pheromones and some tags provided by @tom-foolery-incorporated <3

word count: 800

Holding Orion’s helm on both sides, you pull him toward you, feeling no resistance from the startled mech. His faceplate lands against your chest, and you immediately envelop him in warmth, letting him sink into the softness of your human body. The familiar shape of your torso and the rhythmic symphony of your heartbeat give him a sense of comfort and belonging, as if, after a long, exhausting day, he has finally found his way home. Orion lifts his optics to you and smiles in gratitude, though you cannot see the expression.

“I missed you,” you murmur tenderly, pressing a kiss to the top of his helm.

“I am glad that our feelings…” he begins, but his words are abruptly cut off by the sudden, unfamiliar scent flooding his olfactory sensors.

It is sweet, unmistakably yours, yet tainted with something unknown — something he cannot name. Has no time to analyze it before the scent overwhelms him, urging to flee, to pull away before it does irreversible damage to his processor. Escaping should not be a challenge; after all, you are not restraining him, granting him full freedom to move. But the problem is that he hesitates to run.

One breath. Then another. And another. Each inhale draws the scent deeper, seeping into his very core, coating his spark, his tank, until it finally reaches the most sensitive parts of his frame, teasing them mercilessly. It creeps behind his interface panel, wrapping around his spike and valve, luring them into a dance with the desire that consumes him in an instant. Just moments ago, all he had wanted was to hold you close, whispering sweet words in your ear, but now — now, the image of sliding his spike into your tight, burning-hot folds is the only thought left in his processor. The only thing he wants to think about. The only thing he can.

Orion takes another involuntary breath, stress-induced from the sudden onslaught of overwhelming need, and it seals his fate.

“[Name]!” he cries out, voice breaking. His concealed spike spasms, and from its tip, thick strands of pink transfluid spill out, splattering against his panel before slowly dripping downward, seeping into the seams, finding their way out. Some rivulets trail down his thighs, while others pool onto the floor beneath him.

“Orion, did you just come?” you ask bluntly. Watching the way his back arches, his optics roll upward, and listening to the symphony of his stifled moans, you are certain of the answer. You should be surprised — after all, you had barely given him any real stimulation to get him to overload — but you know your partner well enough to have learned just how little he needs to unravel. Still, the meaner part of you, the one that always surfaces when Orion is deliciously pathetic, wants to see undeniable evidence of his overload.

“Move your head. I want to see.”

“Ah!” Orion whimpers. “N-No, do not look,” he pleads, suddenly ashamed of the intensity of his own desperation.

His embarrassment does not last long, though, because Orion does not want to pull away. He does not want to lose this intoxicating sense of helplessness, this loss of control that breathing in your scent grants him. He wants to stay right here, drunk on your sweetness.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, now you’re getting shy? Please, I’ve seen you worse.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, barely processing your words. He inhales again, this time intentionally, and just like before, your scent floods his body. His still-hard, aching spike throbs, pleading for another overload, and his valve clenches around nothing, echoing the demand. He has no choice but to take in more of your scent, to drown himself in it. He presses himself against you harder, as if trying to meld into your body, rubbing his faceplate against your chest in a desperate chase for another untouched, hands-free climax.

Forgetting his own immense strength, he unwittingly forces you several steps backward, making you struggle to keep your balance.

“Hey!” you yelp, giving him a light, scolding pat on the helm. “I almost fell!”

That, finally, seems to snap him out of it — at least for a moment. Orion lifts his optics to meet yours, guilt flickering in his gaze. “A-apologies,” he murmurs, but his focus does not last long. He immediately buries his faceplate back against you, sensitive olfactory sensors dragging over your torso, trying to provoke another overload.

“Ah! [Name], please, help me!” he whines, his voice raw with need. He has to be inside you. Needs to ground himself, to find something solid to cling to, or else he fears he will completely lose his mind.

You sigh, feigning exasperation. “As you wish, love.” and Orion hurriedly retracts his transfluid-slick interface panel.

[revelboo]

hey, hope this months been good to you thus far and that january ended on a good note for you. appreciate you a lot ✌️✌️

Thank you! I hope your year is off to a good start, too

It Had to Be You Pt 17

TFO Megatron x Reader

• Draped against him, one of his hands is resting against your spine, sliding slowly up and down before his servos tangle in the hair at the back of your head. Making a soft noise, you wiggle on top of him, feeling his spark thrumming under you. That steady rhythm soothing you. As familiar now as the beat of your own heart. Still feel off balance from that contact with his spark. The glimpses you’d gotten of his memories feeling as real as your own. “You held back from me,” he says, red optics sliding to you then away as his jaw works. “Why?” Confused, you reach up to touch his bottom lip and his head turns away.

• Thought you’d finally trusted him. That the two of you had gotten past the fighting. Past resisting each other, but you’d not submitted to him when he’d bonded you. Hadn’t given him everything. And your expression is confused when you prop yourself up on your elbows on his chassis to look down at him. “What’s that mean?” Like you don’t realize what you’d done. What you’d denied him. Spark aching with that missing connection, with what should be.

• What’s he in a mood about now? See his lip lift slightly to show denta before he gently thumps the back of his helm against the berth a couple times. “The bond,” he growls, servos shifting against the back of your head, cupping it. “It’s not complete. You have to feel it.” Frowning at his tone, you remember being tangled in him. Overwhelmed as he’d coaxed you, wrapping himself about you. And you’d ignored that sweet pull humming through you, ignored his coaxing.

• “It was a lot,” you mutter, avoiding his optics now. Venting tiredly, he tries to let go of the tension. It hadn’t been a no. You hadn’t denied him. Can feel the imperfect bond prickling through his spark. Demanding to be completed. That he tangle himself so fully in you that you’ll never be free of him. But this isn’t something he can just demand or take. It has to be given willingly. And patience has never been his strength. “I didn’t really know what was happening. You didn’t warn me.”

• “A lot,” he echoes, voice strained. “I offer you everything and it’s a lot.” Servos restlessly playing with your hair, his optics shutter. “I’m trying. You have no idea how hard I’m trying.” Leaning up on him, you brush your mouth against his and he finally looks at you. Annoyed and hopeful all at the same time as his other hand lands on your hip. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that reminds you of the glimpses you’d seen of D 16. Of who he’d been before Sentinel’s lies had broken him of trust. And he’s trusting you, giving you the ability to hurt him. But You hadn’t been able to do the same, you’d balked, because it had felt like losing a piece of yourself giving in to him.

• “I’m trying too, okay.” Those eyes he gets lost in are so serious as you brush another kiss against him that feels like an apology. Knows he should have explained first, should have stopped you from touching him without understanding what you were committing to. Another Cybertronian would have known. Wouldn’t have given up their freedom to tie themself to him willingly. And he’d taken advantage of your ignorance to get what he wanted. To make a permanent claim on you. Would you have still chosen to reach out and forge that imperfect connection if you’d known what it meant? He’s not sure and a hurt part of him isn’t capable of just asking. Afraid of what the answer might be.

Previous

[baphometsss]

I'm also going kind of insane over the romance description for Solas in the customise Inquisitor section of the CC. Like what do you mean 'even the Dread Wolf did not know what it would mean to fall in love'?? I'm frothing at the mouth!!!!

I mean, now it's had a few months to stew, it actually makes perfect sense. Solas doesn't seem to forge relationships in the same way as an elf as he did as a spirit. We know he loved Mythal and Felassan, but his relationships with both had rather different dynamics. Mythal had known him for the longest, and understood his spirit nature better than anyone. They spent a long time reflecting each others' spirits back and forth. Felassan we can assume was another Wisdom spirit (going by his eye colour), which once again tracks because Solas seems to connect with other Wisdom spirits very intensely. Nonetheless, there's a distance between them; they need each other and they share a common cause, and although Solas loved Felassan dearly, he was still able to kill him in The Masked Empire.

However, the thing that these two relationships have in common is that they both relate to Solas's spirit-self. All the dynamics are some kind of echo of how he behaved and related as a spirit. The person he is at the beginning of DAI is who he has been for a very long time. He is, despite everything, a little stagnant.

With the Inquisitor, he literally doesn't have a choice but to change, to connect not just as a spirit but as a man. Prior to that though... remember how spirits are asexual, like Cole is if you don't make him more human? Yeah. I don't doubt that Solas had physical relations with others after manifesting, but I think the feelings would've been absent as he doesn't connect romantically with them; a legacy from his spirit self, which he clings to dearly.

Weirdly enough, I think that this lack of romantic or relationship experience is what the romance in Inquisition actually hinges on. He's only able to take that chance specifically because he doesn't know what romantic love feels like. He may be a manifested Wisdom spirit, but this is something that must be experienced to be understood. He takes the chance in the end because he doesn't know how deeply it will affect him. Also as Wisdom, he can't help but be curious anyway. Clearly he underestimated how much of an impact it would have on him. He didn't expect to be known and loved so fully for who he was, after a life of being forced away from his purpose, who he truly wanted to be. To be given the space to exist as Wisdom is one thing, and certainly it would've been enough for him to maintain his love for his friends in the Inquisition alone, but to be loved for it? To be able to express these new, very earthly and yet somehow still spiritual feelings of love? Everything lining up, singing the same? Things he could never have experienced as a spirit? It's a union of the spirit and body that he likely never felt before. That has to have been overwhelming, a beautiful gift he never expected to receive. 'In all Thedas I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade'--quite literally, 'I never thought I would want such an earthly thing'. I'm not surprised he almost threw away his plans for it. It's like a whole new world opening up.

It also makes his 'I would not have you see what I become' line more poignant. He doesn't want this beautiful, unique thing he's found to be marred by the actions he will take. He doesn't want his heart to see the wounds in his soul. So when the Inquisitor says they want to join him, it literally stuns him. When he warns them that he's got a lot of terrible things waiting for him in the Fade, it's his last, weak attempt to make them reconsider before they see the wounds on his soul laid bare. By responding that it won't be so bad if they're with him, the Inquisitor is also saying that being together will heal him, that those wounds will not be so terrible when shared.

That line from the elven poem Trick wrote from Solas to Lavellan: 'do not be sad, my heart, our love's endurance is a blessing, our love will be our joy' everything is so new to him brb crying :'<

[arthemis005]

NIGHTMARE

You knew this wasn’t a good idea. Bakugou was really serious about his sleep schedule and hated being disturbed.

So you stood there, looking at his dorm door, thinking if this was really a good idea. As much as you tried to rationalize the situation and tell yourself that everything was fine, you knew that neither your heart nor your mind would relax if you didn’t confirm that he was really alright.

After a few deep breaths, you managed to gather the courage to knock on his door. And, of course, you immediately regretted your decision when you were met with silence. You started to turn around, defeated, when suddenly you heard the door open, revealing a very sleepy Bakugou.

"Oi! Do you know what time it is? It's fucking 3 in the morning. What do you want from me, nerd?"

You turned around just to meet Bakugou leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed with a very annoyed look on his face. Hearing his voice was a relief, even if his words were rude, but you refused to look at him.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you."

"Yeah, but you already did, dumbass, so spit it out."

"I just... really needed to hear your voice."

You sounded small, almost like a whisper. Bakugou could barely understand what you were saying, but he realized something was wrong.

"Come in." He said as he stepped to the side so you could pass through the door. His tone had changed; it was more gentle and for once he wasn’t screaming.

"What?", you looked at him surprised

"Just fucking come in already."

He turned around, entering his room, and you followed him. His room was dark, but the moonlight was streaming through the window. As you entered his room you were engulfed with his scent which was comforting.

He sat on his bed and motioned for you to do the same. You carefully placed yourself next to him, looking at the ground and fidgeting with your hands. You guys sat there for a few seconds in complete silence until he decided to break it.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you going to keep staring at my rug?"

You looked at him for the first time that night. Your eyes were slightly red, and your cheeks were still wet from your tears.

Bakugou's expression shifted from anger to concern, it was the first time he had seen you like that.

"I had a nightmare..."

You began. Your voice was shaky, but you tried to hide it. Bakugou listened carefully.

"I dreamed about that day... the day we found you, and I saw you... dead."

It had been a week since Bakugou was kidnapped by the League of Villains. Those days were filled with terror for everyone who cared about him, including you. You remembered the efforts everyone made to find him and the overwhelming relief when, after looking for him with Midorya and the others, you saw him safe and sound again. Tears began to roll down your cheeks as you couldn’t hold back, the image of Katsuki Bakugou, lifeless, flashing in your mind. You cared for him deeply, and those days made you realize that maybe your feelings for him went beyond what friends usually feel for each other.

"You were lying there, all bloody and bruised, and I tried to run and save you, but it was too late..."

The room fell silent. You tried to calm yourself as you heard Bakugou shift in his seat. What were you doing here, you were sure he was going to scream at you for waking him up for such a trivial and childish thing.

After a few moments, he spoke, his voice soft despite his harsh words.

"You dumbass, you really think some low-quality villains like them could kill me? Tch, not a chance."

You looked down, unable to maintain eye contact.

"I know it’s a stupid reason to wake you, and I’m so sorry, but after what happened, I just..."

You stopped, looking for the right words to continue but before you could finish your sentence, you felt Bakugou's hand touch yours. The warmth of his hand contrasted with the cold breeze coming through the window, it was soothing.

"Look," he sighed, "I’m here. I’m not dead and I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, Y/n. You can calm down."

His gentle words were rare, but suited the moment. You looked into his eyes, seeing the worry in them.

"Thank you, Bakugou, and I’m sorry again."

"Tch, stop apologizing, dammit. If you were bothering me I wouldn't have let you in"

He quickly pulled his hand away from yours and scratched the back of his neck.

"I think it’s time for me to go back to my room. It's getting late and I need to rest"

You said as you stood up from his bed and turned to the door. Before you could leave you heard him speak again.

"Anytime you have one of those nightmares, you can come to me."

Looking over your shoulder you saw him standing up shyly, his eyes were shining with the moonlight reflecting on them and you could tell that he was serious. You smiled, happy for his unusual kindness.

"Thank you, Bakugou."

"You’re welcome, nerd”

[erinyesofvengeance]

A/N: i keep thinking about witch x witch hunter…. it’s genuinely plaguing my thoughts 😵‍💫 also this is NOT proofread please forgive me (no beta we die like gojo)

You weren’t like the rest of your kind; the type most humans would call witches. You would like to think of yourself as a human (if you didn’t harbour the negative feelings you had for them, of course), since you had all of the attributes of one… except for the magic, of course.

You lived peacefully in the woods by yourself, minding your own business. Confrontation wasn’t really your thing, and you had no desire to go out to hunt and eat humans like your fellow witches. Besides, eating humans would make a witch more powerful, it would also make them more hideous as well. And you weren’t so keen on that, considering the tons of skin, hair, and health improving potions you had stored in your cellar.

But still, although you didn’t eat humans for a living, it didn’t mean you liked them. You held contempt for them, especially the ones that would go out hunting your kind, and would probably attack one if they even came close to touching you.

So how was it that a human, the almighty witch hunter Gojo Satoru, had his cock buried 8 inches deep into you? And that wasn’t even his full length.

“Hah— your kind always pissed me off,” he hisses. “But I think you take first place out of everyone.” He ends his sentence with a particularly harsh thrust that has you seeing stars.

Satoru has you looking face down on the mattress as his hands hold your waist roughly, using them to snap his hips against yours repetitively.

His cock was hard, long, and thrusting violently in and out of you as you gasp, holding onto your bedsheets for dear life. He grabs your hair, tugging at your scalp, and pushes your face into the softness of your magically enhanced mattress as he grunts above you.

“Satoru—” you cry out. You slowly turn your gaze towards him to look at him through a tear stained face. “Ngh, slower!”

“Ooo, I like that expression. Turns me on.” His hand descends to your clit, playing with it gently as your juices soak his fingers. The motion contrasts with the treatment his cock has been giving you, making you moan his name.

“Can’t believe this,” he mutters. “Stooping this low to fucking with your kind.” He stares down at you, at your fucked-out expression of ecstasy and your trembling legs twisting and turning to unsuccessful try to adjust to him.

“Does make me feel a bit better that you don’t eat, though… could get used to this.”

Through your overwhelming pleasure, and his relentless attack on your body, you still manage to reply defiantly.

“Don’t think so,” you groan, before getting interrupted by him flipping you over and making you ride him until your legs give out.

Safe to say that you were wrong.

[bradleysass]

Euphemia Potter - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 543

Regulus adjusted his cufflinks for what had to be the fifth time in the past two minutes. He wasn’t even wearing a full suit, just a nice sweater over a collared shirt, but his hands were restless, smoothing down invisible wrinkles, making sure his sleeves sat just right.

“Shouldn’t we stop and get a housewarming gift?” he asked, glancing sideways at James, who was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other fidgeting with the radio.

James shot him a knowing look, eyes twinkling. “Reg, they’ve lived in the same house since before I was born. Pretty sure it doesn’t need warming.”

Regulus frowned. “It’s polite.”

James reached over to squeeze his knee. “You could walk in empty-handed, insult my mum’s cooking, and call my dad’s potioneer career overrated, and they’d still love you.”

Regulus made a noise that could have been a scoff or a nervous laugh—it was hard to tell. “I doubt that.”

James’ expression softened. “I promise, love. They’re going to adore you.”

Regulus exhaled sharply and looked back out the window. Meeting new people had never been easy for him, let alone making a first impression that actually mattered. And meeting James’ parents after three years together? It felt monumental, as if they’d been existing in their own world and were now being asked to prove they could function in someone else’s.

James had been endlessly patient. He never pushed, never made Regulus feel guilty for needing time. But now that it was finally happening, the weight of it settled heavily on Regulus’ shoulders.

“Is there anything I shouldn’t say?” he asked hesitantly. “Anything I should avoid?”

James hummed thoughtfully. “Well, maybe don’t mention that time you said Quidditch was just ‘grown men fighting over a flying golf ball.’”

Regulus groaned. “You promised to never bring that up again.”

James grinned. “Sorry, sorry. But really, just be yourself.”

Regulus wrinkled his nose. “You say that as if it’s a good thing.”

James pulled into the driveway and put the car in park before turning fully to face him. “It is a good thing. It’s the best thing.” His voice was steady, reassuring. “And if you feel overwhelmed, just squeeze my hand. I’ll be right there.”

Regulus glanced at James’ hand, already held out for him. He hesitated only a moment before sliding his fingers between James’. Warm, steady, grounding.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s do this.”

James grinned. “That’s my boy.”

They stepped out of the car together, walking up the familiar brick path to the front door. Before Regulus could hesitate, James knocked, and within seconds, the door swung open.

Euphemia Potter stood there with a warm smile, her arms already outstretched. “You must be Regulus,” she said, pulling him into a gentle hug before he could protest. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

Fleamont appeared behind her, grinning as he clapped James on the shoulder. “And you brought our son home in one piece. Good work, Regulus.”

Regulus blinked, startled by the immediate warmth. He barely had time to process before Euphemia ushered them inside, talking animatedly about dinner and insisting he make himself at home.

James caught Regulus’ eye and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“See?” he murmured. “Told you they’d love you.”

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do one where the sister is having a teen pregnancy and Nate is the dad?

okayyy! wait because i lowkey did a very good job on this and it BETTER GET THE HYPE!

“Unexpected Blessings”

Sturniolos + nate x sister

Warnings : crying , pregnancy

Y/N had been feeling off for days—fatigue, nausea, and an unshakable heaviness in her body. At first, she brushed it off as a simple cold, but deep down, an uneasy feeling gnawed at her. It wasn’t until she realized she had missed her period that her heart started to race.

Sitting on the closed toilet lid, she stared at the pregnancy test in her trembling hands. Three minutes felt like an eternity. When she finally glanced at the result, two bold lines stared back at her.

Positive.

Tears welled in her eyes instantly, but not because she was pregnant. It was the overwhelming fear that she wouldn’t be good enough—that she wouldn’t be able to do this.

A sudden knock on the door startled her.

“Babe? You okay?” Nate’s voice was soft but concerned.

Y/N wiped her eyes quickly, trying to compose herself, but the lump in her throat remained. Before she could answer, the door creaked open, and there he was—her boyfriend, Nate, looking at her with worried eyes. His gaze flickered to the pregnancy test in her shaking hands.

He froze.

His usual carefree expression melted into shock as he processed what he was seeing. The room was dead silent until he finally whispered, “Is that…?”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I—I don’t know if I can do this, Nate,” she admitted, her voice cracking.

In an instant, Nate was on the floor with her, pulling her into his arms. “Hey, hey, shh. Breathe, baby. It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “I know this is a lot, but you’re not alone. We’re in this together, okay?”

She clutched onto his hoodie, nodding against his chest. “I’m scared,” she admitted.

“I know,” he whispered, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “But I swear to you, I’m not going anywhere. You’re not doing this alone.”

—

A few days later, the anxiety of telling her brothers—the Sturniolo triplets—loomed over them.

“Okay, we got this,” Nate reassured her as they stood outside the living room where Matt, Chris, and Nick were hanging out.

“No, you got this. I’m about to get murdered,” Y/N muttered, her heart pounding.

Nate squeezed her hand before leading her inside.

“What’s up with you guys?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow as they entered.

Y/N swallowed hard. “Uh… so… I have something to tell you.”

Nick leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Okay?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m… I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

The air felt thick as the words hung between them.

Matt was the first to react. “I’m sorry, what?” His jaw nearly dropped.

Chris’s eyes widened, and he leaned back against the couch. “You’re joking, right?”

Nick, on the other hand, was eerily quiet, his expression unreadable.

“I swear, I’ll take care of her,” Nate cut in quickly, his protective nature kicking in. “I love her. I love the baby. I won’t let anything happen to them.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair. “Holy sh*t.”

Chris exhaled, looking between Nate and Y/N. “Damn… You guys are serious?”

Y/N nodded hesitantly. “I know it’s a lot to take in…”

Finally, Nick spoke up. “Are you okay?” His voice was softer, full of concern.

Y/N blinked, taken aback. “I—yeah, I think so.”

Nick sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look, this is insane. But at the end of the day, you’re my sister, and I just want to make sure you’re good.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. As much as I want to beat Nate’s ass for getting you pregnant, I also don’t want you going through this alone.”

Matt pointed at Nate. “Dude, you better step up.”

Nate met his gaze without hesitation. “I already did.”

—

As the pregnancy progressed, Nate became even more attentive.

Morning sickness? He held her hair back and rubbed her back soothingly.

Cravings at 2 AM? He was already in the car, ready to drive wherever she wanted.

Back pain? He massaged her shoulders and lower back every night.

Whenever she doubted herself, Nate was there, pressing soft kisses to her growing belly. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom,” he whispered against her skin. “I know it.”

Her brothers, despite their initial shock, became her biggest protectors. They made sure she was always comfortable, and they even helped Nate move in part-time so he could be there for her.

—

When the time finally came, Y/N was in the hospital bed, gripping Nate’s hand so tightly he thought it might break.

“I can’t do this,” she whimpered, panting through a contraction.

“Yes, you can,” Nate soothed, brushing sweaty strands of hair from her face. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

Matt, Chris, and Nick stood nearby, all pale but determined to be there for her.

“We’re right here, Y/N,” Nick assured her.

Chris swallowed hard. “You got this, dude.”

Matt simply nodded, looking more nervous than anyone.

Hours later, when the sound of a baby’s cry filled the room, Y/N’s tears spilled freely.

Nate kissed her forehead, his voice thick with emotion. “You did it, baby.”

The triplets peered at the tiny newborn, their previous fears replaced with awe.

Chris sniffled. “Okay, maybe I like the kid already.”

Nick smirked. “Shebetter not look like Nate.”

Matt just chuckled, rubbing Y/N’s arm. “We’re proud of you.”

Looking around at the people she loved most, Y/N finally felt it—she wasn’t alone. And she never would be.

[leaderwon]

NIGHT OF A THOUSAND WHISPERS : PJS | 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐝𝐚𝐲 - 𝟗)

Synopsis : With the sun setting behind you and a gentle breeze in the air, Jay sweeps you off your feet for an impromptu date at the beach. Between shared laughter and tender glances, every moment with him feels like a perfectly written love story.

Warnings : Mild suggestive content, heavy skinship (hand holding, hugging, and kissing)

Wc : 1.9k+

masterlist

The ocean waves lapped softly against the shore, blending seamlessly with the distant calls of seabirds. The golden light of the setting sun painted the horizon in hues of amber and rose, and a gentle breeze carried the salty tang of the sea. As you strolled down the sandy path, your heart raced at the sight of Jay waiting near the edge of the beach.

He stood with his back to the water, a soft smile on his face as he caught sight of you. His hair was tousled perfectly by the wind, and the sight was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

"You're just in time," Jay greeted warmly, reaching out to take your hand as you approached. "In time for what?" you asked, allowing him to guide you toward a setup you hadn't noticed before. There was a neatly laid blanket surrounded by flickering lanterns and a basket of snacks resting on the side.

Jay grinned mischievously. "A spontaneous date. Thought we could escape reality for a while." "You really went all out," you teased, but warmth bloomed in your chest at the effort he'd put in.

Settling onto the blanket, you gazed out at the horizon. The colors of the sunset reflected on the shimmering waves, creating a breathtaking scene. Jay leaned back on his hands, eyes focused on you instead of the view. "You look beautiful," he murmured. Heat rose to your cheeks. "You flatter me too much." "I mean it," he insisted, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I love seeing you happy."

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you could only gaze at him, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his eyes. The vulnerability between you was palpable, but Jay never shied away from it.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly, you shared stories and laughed until your sides hurt. Jay's warmth and presence made the world fade away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect bubble.

"Hey," Jay said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence. "Do you remember our first date?" You chuckled. "How could I forget? You spilled soda all over your shirt, and I was too polite to laugh at you."

Jay groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Don't remind me. That was so embarrassing. I thought I ruined everything." "You didn't," you assured him, nudging his shoulder. "It was actually kind of cute."

He peeked at you through his fingers, eyes glinting with amusement. "So you're saying I should spill soda on myself more often?" "Please don't," you laughed. "But it definitely made the date memorable." Jay's expression softened. "Every moment with you is memorable."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and looked down at your intertwined hands. The music playing from the speaker faded into the background as Jay's thumb brushed gently over your knuckles.

"Can I say something?" he asked quietly. You nodded, meeting his gaze.

"Being with you feels like home" he confessed. "I've never felt this way about anyone before, and it honestly scares me a little. But I know that I don't want to be anywhere else but here, with you."

Emotion surged through you, and tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. Jay had always been thoughtful and affectionate, but this confession touched a part of your heart you'd kept guarded.

"I feel the same way," you whispered. "You make me feel safe and cherished." Jay's breath hitched, and without hesitation, he cupped your face, his touch gentle yet firm. "Can I kiss you?" Your response was immediate. "Yeah"

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and intense. The world faded into the background as you melted into him. Jay's hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you close as he poured all his emotions into the kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless, Jay rested his forehead against yours. "You're incredible," he whispered. You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time you both settled back onto the blanket, content to watch the stars emerge. Jay's arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close.

"This is perfect," you sighed. "It really is," Jay agreed. "Thank you for being you." You tilted your head to look at him. "And thank you for being you."

As the night deepened, Jay pulled out a small portable light from the basket and set it up, casting a warm glow around you. He opened a box of snacks and offered you a piece of chocolate.

"Sweet for my sweet," he said playfully. You rolled your eyes but took the chocolate anyway. "You're cheesy." "And you love it," he teased, nudging you playfully.

As the stars twinkled above and the sound of the ocean filled the air, you realized that moments like these were what made life beautiful. With Jay by your side, everything felt right.

The night ended with you lying in his arms, your fingers tracing random patterns on his chest as he hummed softly.

"Let's do this more often" Jay suggested. "What, spontaneous beach dates?" you asked with a smile.

"Yeah" he nodded. "But more importantly, spending time together. Just us, no distractions." "I'd love that," you agreed. Jay pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Good. Because you're stuck with me now."

You laughed, snuggling closer to him. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[arxiwon]

Love In Full Bloom 𑁍ࠬܓ

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jake × Girlfriend!Reader

Synopsis: Love always felt magical with Jake. From soft forehead kisses to whispered “I love you’s” under the moonlight, every moment with him was a dream. But when he surprises you with a breathtaking night filled with flowers, candles, and a confession that changes everything, you realize—this is what love is meant to feel like.

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life

Warnings: Extreme sweetness, overwhelming love, excessive boyfriend material moments.

Jake had always been effortlessly charming. The kind of boyfriend who made your heart race even after months of being together. He was sunshine on a rainy day, laughter in the middle of a dull afternoon, and warmth in the middle of winter. But tonight—tonight was something else entirely.

You knew Jake was up to something when he had sent a vague text earlier in the day: Wear something nice. I have a surprise for you.

And now, standing in the middle of a breathtakingly decorated rooftop, you felt your heart swell. Fairy lights twinkled above like fallen stars, casting a golden glow over the intimate setup—pillows, a candlelit table, and a bouquet of your favorite flowers waiting at the center. Soft music played from a speaker nearby, blending perfectly with the distant hum of the city below.

Jake stood at the entrance, hands in his pockets, grinning at you with that boyish charm that never failed to make you weak.

"So?" He opened his arms wide, eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Do I get boyfriend points for this?"

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Jake, this is—this is beautiful. Did you do all of this?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, his dimples deepening. "Well, I may have had some help setting up, but the idea? All me." He took a step closer, reaching for your hand. "I just… wanted to make tonight special."

You squeezed his fingers, feeling the rush of love swell inside you. "Every moment with you is special."

Jake’s expression softened, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Yeah, but I wanted to do more. You make me so happy, and I just—I wanted to give you something back."

Before you could say anything, he stepped aside, revealing a bouquet of fresh white lilies resting on the table. He picked them up carefully and turned back to you, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

"These are for you," he murmured, holding them out. "I remember you said white lilies remind you of happiness, so I thought… maybe they could remind you of tonight, too."

Your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness behind his gesture. Taking the flowers gently from his hands, you inhaled their sweet scent before looking up at him, eyes brimming with affection. "Jake, this is perfect."

The evening unfolded like a dream. Over candlelit dinner, Jake made you laugh until your sides hurt, telling you stories from his childhood, complete with exaggerated impressions of his younger self. He reached across the table every so often, stealing little touches—brushing your knuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, playing with your bracelet absentmindedly. He was hopelessly in love, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

At one point, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through a playlist. "Okay, hear me out—one dance. Just one."

You raised a brow, amused. "Jake, we’re on a rooftop."

"Exactly! Perfect setting for a movie moment." He wiggled his brows before holding his hand out. "Please? For me?"

With a dramatic sigh, you placed your hand in his, letting him pull you up. The soft melody of a love song surrounded you as Jake guided you into a slow dance, his arms wrapping securely around your waist.

"See?" he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. "Perfect."

You let yourself melt into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you love it."

"Unfortunately, I do."

Jake chuckled before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His expression turned serious, his gaze filled with something deeper.

"I love you." His voice was steady, sincere, leaving no room for doubt. "Like, really love you. The kind where I think about you first thing in the morning, where every little thing reminds me of you, where I just—" He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "I don’t know how to be without you anymore."

Your heart clenched, warmth spreading through your chest. "Jake…"

"I know we always say it," he continued, his fingers tightening around yours, "but I wanted to tell you properly. Not just in passing, not just because it’s routine. I wanted you to hear it, to feel it."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you cupped his face, thumbs brushing over the warmth of his cheeks. "I feel it, Jake. Every single day."

A soft smile tugged at his lips before he leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss against yours. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate—it was simply filled with love. Pure, undeniable love.

When you pulled away, he grinned, dimples on full display. "So… do I get boyfriend points now?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Jake, you just won the entire game."

Later that night, after the candles had burned low and the stars above shone even brighter, Jake pulled you into his arms on a cozy blanket laid out on the rooftop. The city lights twinkled around you, but all you could focus on was him.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked, playing with your fingers as if memorizing every line, every detail.

You smiled at the memory. "Of course. You almost ran into me at the campus café because you were too busy talking about football."

Jake groaned, burying his face against your shoulder. "Ugh, don’t remind me. That was not my smoothest moment."

"And yet, I still fell for you." You nudged him lightly. "Guess you did something right."

He looked at you then, eyes soft, voice even softer. "I think I just got really lucky."

Silence stretched between you, but it was the comfortable kind. The kind where words weren’t necessary because everything was already understood.

Then Jake spoke again, quieter this time. "I used to think love was just something that happened in movies. That it was all grand gestures and dramatic moments. But then I met you… and I realized it’s in the little things, too. Like waiting for me after practice, or laughing at my dumb jokes, or knowing exactly what to say when I’m stressed. Love isn’t just fireworks—it’s every second, every little moment, with you."

Your throat tightened, overwhelmed by the sheer depth of his words. You reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. "I love you, Jake. So much."

He smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead. "I love you more."

And as he held you under the stars, you knew—this was love in its purest form. No need for grand gestures, no need for perfect moments. Just you, Jake, and the quiet promise of forever.

[berryeemmy]

hello!! can you make a fic for overwhelmedreader! at a party with Rafe? where she's anxious and Rafe reassures that he'll her home while Kelce and Topper tease him. But he still soothes her and takes her home even though she feels guilty!!

you can do whatever this is just a small idea, thank you❤️❤️ i love your blog!

Oh my goodness yes!! I am so happy your like my first real ask!!! I hope you like it! Thank you so much love💕

The music was too loud, the air was too thick with the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Bodies of people you didn’t even know were pushing and shoving you by accident. All the colors from the lights along with the shouting was just too much for you to handle.

The only reason you even came to this stupid party was because Rafe asked you too. No begged you too. Or maybe it was because, for once, you wanted to fit into his world of adventure and wild parties. But now, standing in the corner with your arms wrapped around yourself tightly while Rafe went to go get a drink with Top and Kelce, you felt like you were suffocating.

Rafe and the guys had been walking back to you from getting another beer in the kitchen, when Rafe saw the familiar look on your face. The look you got when you were overwhelmed. Originally he was laughing with Topper about something funny he said, but once he saw that look. It all came to a halt.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice cut through the noise, distracting you for a moment. He put his hands on your waist, his touch comforting.

“You okay?” He asks so only you could hear.

You shake your head biting down on your lip softly.

“Baby what’s wrong. You gotta tell me what’s wrong.” He says, his voice softer then ever before.

You swallowed hard, “j-just wanna go h-home..” you whisper on the verge of tears.

Rafe’s expression quickly changed to one of worry.

“Hey hey hey, there’s no need to cry baby its okay, i’ll take you home. My girl just feeling overwhelmed yeah?” He says quickly. He didn’t wanna question it. That was for later.

You nod quickly as a tear falls down you cheek, mascara running along with it.

And that’s when Topper and Kelce decided they want to make their appearance known again.

“Dude, you’re leaving already?” Kelce scoffed.

Topper rolled his eyes and slightly nudged Rafe on the shoulder. “Man you’re pussy whipped.”

Rafe scoffed, just like Kelce. “Leave me alone. My girl tells me she wants to go home we’re going home okay?” He says his voice sharp like a knife. And with that, Rafe’s already guiding you out of the house and into the front yard, where he had parked his truck earlier.

As he opened the door for you to get into the passenger seat, a wave of guilt hits you.

Rafe gets into the driver side, when he notices more tears falling down your face.

“Baby why you still crying huh? Its okay, your safe in the car now.” He says while leaning over to cup your cheek softly.

“I feel bad, you were obviously having a good time a-and i just ruined it.” You sniffle.

“Pretty girl, you didn’t ruin anything. I don’t care about Topper and Kelce, or having fun. I care about you. My baby. Not anything else, mkay?” He says firmly but still somehow gentle.

You couldn’t help but feel relief, like a weight had been taken off your shoulders as he said those words. So you nodded “okay..” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby, now lets go home.” He muttered giving you a quick kiss.

[lmvari]

Petty Compensation

prompt. you accidentally take the wrong drink order, and the actual owner demands a sip as compensation

characters. scaramouche / wanderer x gn!reader

tags. modern au, attempt at humor

warnings. none

You don’t notice your mistake at first.

The cafe is busy, and you're distracted. Probably by the group of students arguing over a project in the corner or the fact that you only got four hours of sleep last night. Either way, you hear your name being called, or at least, you think it was yours.

Without giving it much thought, you grab the cup from the counter, take a sip, and wince at the unexpected bitterness. Still, you don’t question it and head back to your seat like nothing’s wrong. The cafe is packed and the staff seem overwhelmed that the barista doesn’t even notice who took the drink.

It’s not until someone clears their throat in front of you that you realize something might be off.

“That’s mine.”

You glance up, only to be met with sharp indigo eyes staring you down. The guy in front of you has striking deep blue hair, sharp jawline, and an expression that somehow manages to be both bored and vaguely irritated at the same time. He gestures toward the cup in your hand. “You took my drink.”

You blink at him, then at the cup. Then at him again.

Oh.

In your defense, it looks like your order. You squint at the scribbled name on the side, and sure enough, it’s not yours.

Kunikusushi, it says.

Either his parents had a grudge against him, or the barista completely butchered the spelling.

Still, regardless of how his name is written on the cup, one thing is clear. You already drank from it, which means—

“Oops?” you offer sheepishly.

His brow twitches. “Oops?”

“order for [name]!” the barista calls out.

You glance toward the counter, where another identical cup sits unattended. Your actual order.

You stand up to take it from the counter and offer it to the stranger. His intense stare burns into you the entire time. Shifting under the weight of it, you clear your throat. “Um, sorry. You can take mine instead?”

He looks unimpressed, eyeing the cup with clear disapproval. “My drink is made exactly how I like it. And you’ve contaminated it. I’d take it back but what if you have some kind of disease?”

“I don’t,” you deadpan.

He shrugs. “Can’t be sure.”

“Are you serious?”

He exhales through his nose, gaze flicking to the cup in your hands. “Fine,” he says, holding out a hand. “Give it here.”

You blink. “Wait, what—”

“If I can’t have mine untouched, I want compensation,” he says. “You took a sip of my drink. I’m taking one of yours.”

You gape at him. “That’s literally the same thing you were just complaining about.”

“Yeah, but this time it’s my choice.” He scoffs. “Give it.”

You hesitate but ultimately sigh, handing the cup over. He takes it, and without breaking eye contact, he lifts it to his lips and takes a slow sip.

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

As he swallows, immediately, his nose scrunches in utter disgust. “Ugh. How do you drink this?” He sets the cup on your free hand and glares at it like it personally offended him. “It’s sickeningly sweet.”

You raise a brow. “No one forced you to drink it, asshole.”

“Tch.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still grimacing. “Consider yourself lucky. I’m feeling merciful today.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Merciful?”

“You should be grateful I didn’t make you buy me a new one.” He smirks, sharp and infuriating.

You roll your eyes, but before you can throw a retort, he steps back, grabbing his actual drink from your hand.

“I’m taking this back. Try not to steal from me next time, thief.”

You sputter out incoherent words in disbelief. He could’ve just taken it from the start. “Petty!” You say back but he ignores you.

And just like that, he walks away, leaving you flustered, annoyed, and (frustratingly) just a little bit intrigued.

Wait. Next time?

You glance down at your drink and feel a small scrap of paper, torn from what looks like a receipt, clinging to the cup’s condensation. Scribbled across it in messy handwriting and bleeding ink is a string of numbers. His number.

Your cheeks flush and your mouth gapes.

Instinctively, your gaze flicks to the exit, searching for him. He’s already by the door, his own drink in hand, but just before stepping out, he glances over his shoulder.

The moment your eyes meet, he smirks. He knows you’ve found it. Then, without a word, he turns and disappears into the crowd outside.

You stare after him. Your heart knocking once against your ribs, skipping a beat.

Did he plan that from the start?

note. just a little something haha you can tell kuni is my favorite character to write. thank you for reading ^^ feel free to send asks! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

© lmvari do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works on any platform.

[hy6erion]

could you write something about omar finding out you’re pregnant and then he’s all protective and giving off daddy vibes?? i would literally melt 🥹

𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - 𝐎𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⇢𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞

𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡?? ⋆ටᆼට⋆ 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠!!

You had been sitting on the news for a few days now, trying to find the perfect moment to tell him. Omar was already naturally protective, always making sure you were comfortable, well-fed, and happy. But this? This was going to flip his world upside down.

And you had no idea how he’d react.

So you kept it to yourself, letting the thought settle, waiting for the right time. That moment arrived when he found you curled up on the couch one evening, looking far too suspicious for his liking.

“Alright,” Omar said, standing in front of you with arms crossed, eyebrows raised in accusation. “What’s going on with you?”

You blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he took a seat beside you, shifting your legs over his lap, “you’ve been acting weird. You get quiet, then you smile to yourself like you have some secret, and whenever I ask if you’re okay, you say ‘I’m fine’ in the least convincing way possible.”

Damn. You should’ve known he’d pick up on it.

He tilted his head. “Are you sick? Are you stressed? Did I do something?” His expression shifted slightly, a crease forming between his brows. “Is someone bothering you? Because if someone—”

You exhaled a laugh, reaching for his hand. “Omar.”

“Hmm?” His fingers laced with yours instantly, grip firm.

You hesitated for a moment, heart hammering, before finally blurting out, “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

His expression didn’t change immediately. His dark eyes stayed locked onto yours, mouth slightly open as if his brain was still processing the words.

Then—“Wait. Say that again.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Still nothing. Just a stunned blink.

You squeezed his hand. “Omar?”

And then, suddenly, everything snapped into motion. He shifted, straightening up, his other hand coming to cup your face. “You’re serious?” His voice dropped, softer now, almost disbelieving.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

His breath left him in a rush, and then—he laughed. This breathless, joyous sound as he shook his head in disbelief. “We’re having a baby?”

“Yes, Omar.”

“A baby?” He said it again, as if saying it more times would make it sink in faster.

“Yes.”

“A little—” He broke off, looking down at your stomach as if he could already see the tiny life growing there. His hand hesitated before gently pressing over your abdomen. He was still grinning, but his eyes were shining now, something raw and overwhelming behind them.

“Ya Allah,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I can’t believe this.”

You let out a soft laugh, watching him with warmth in your chest. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

His head snapped up. “What? Why? You thought I wouldn’t be happy?”

“Not unhappy,” you clarified. “Just… surprised.”

“Surprised?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course I’m surprised! But habibti, this is—this is the best surprise. Ever.” His hands framed your face again, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he stared at you like you’d just given him the entire world. “I’m going to be a father.”

“You are.”

His lips crashed onto yours then, not just in excitement but in something deeper, something reverent. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing each other in.

Then, just as you were melting into the sweetness of it all, Omar pulled back, his eyes narrowing.

“Wait. Have you been feeling okay? Have you been nauseous? Are you eating enough? Drinking enough water? Do we need to go to the doctor? We should go to the doctor.”

You laughed. “I already made an appointment, don’t worry.”

“Good,” he nodded firmly. “But still, you need to rest more. And eat. What do you want? I’ll make you something.”

“Omar, I just ate—”

“You need more,” he said, already standing up. “Protein. Vitamins. Fruits. What do we have in the kitchen? Do we need to go grocery shopping? Do you want soup? I’ll make soup.”

You groaned, grabbing his wrist before he could go into full panic mode. “Omar, relax.”

“Relax?” He looked at you, incredulous. “You are growing a whole human inside you, and you want me to relax?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “Because you’re about two seconds away from bubble-wrapping me.”

He exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face. “Okay, okay. I’ll try.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Will you?”

A pause. Then: “No.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a laugh. “I knew it.”

Omar grinned, dropping back down beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. “I can’t help it. You’re carrying my baby. I have to take care of you both.” His hand slipped down to your stomach again, rubbing small, absentminded circles there.

You softened. “I know.”

His fingers flexed slightly. “I’m going to be the best dad,” he murmured, voice almost like a promise.

“You will,” you said without hesitation.

He kissed your temple, lingering there. “And you’re going to be the best mama.”

Your heart clenched. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the safety of him.

Omar was right—this was the best surprise ever.