#but still deserving of love. still craving it more than anything

[poetryvampire]

Gently

Zevlor x Afab Reader

🔥Nsfw 🔥

Words- 1.1k

Summary- It's your first time with Zevlor and you have to address a small well large issue.

Notes- big dick Zevlor is never far from my mind so I indulged a little. Its just porn with the thinnest of plots. Enjoy my darlings! 💕

You cursed yourself the moment the cry left your kiss swollen lips. Zevlor tensed, stilling the blunt head of his cock against your entrance before pulling away entirely. You whined at the retraction, your whole body aching for his warmth.

Zevlor regarded you with a soft, loving gaze. He'd never looked so handsome to you than he did at that moment. He hovered over you with his blazing cheeks and loose hair wildly framing his face. Every line and curve of his tight muscle was outlined by the glow of the low candle light.

As if reading your mind he moved closer covering you with himself once more.

"Sweet one," He whispered between soft kisses. "We don't have to do anything, you're perfect like this." His hot mouth moved to your neck.

Zevlor had spoken similar words of reassurance earlier when you had confessed your concern. You had suspected from your previous little trysts- stolen moments of passion between duties- that he was quite endowed. Your suspicions were confirmed that evening, finally having been laid bare before each other. Not that you were a blushing virgin, but you had never taken a cock so thick. Nor a tiefling cock adorned with such tantalizing ridges and bumps. Your mouth watered at the thought of it inside you.

You whined at Zevlor's touch, his large hands sweeping down your sides as his mouth attacked your breasts. As badly as you hungered to feel him you also craved his pleasure. More than anything you desired to watch him- feel him- come undone.

"Z-Zevlor! Please, gods I want you, I can't stand it I want you now! I don't care if it hurts. " You moan out breathily.

With a chuckle Zevlor released your nipple from his lips with a wet pop.

"I do." He brought his hand to caress your cheek. "I'm not going to hurt you, my heart. Not now, not ever."

A new warmth bloomed in your chest at his words. Gods above you loved him, you needed him. His eyes lingered on your pleading ones before drawing you into another heated kiss.

"So eager." Zevlor purred before sucking your tongue into his mouth.

You moaned against him, practically clawing at him. Unable to stand it any longer, your hand pushed between you. You grasped his length tighter than you had meant to in your excitement. Zevlor broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, a string of saliva still connecting your lips.

"Zevlor," You breathed, slowly pumping his cock enjoying the feel. In no time he was  hard as stone. You were in awe of the heat and weight of it. "You're so beautiful."

The tiefling smiled and bowed his head. Clearly not used to being complimented as he so deserved.

"You are. And this- this is incredible." Another slow stroke, another rumbling groan from deep in his chest. "It's just sooo big and so heavy. I’ve only ever dreamed of taking a cock like this."

His face was the deepest scarlet you had ever seen; caught halfway between embarrassment and arousal.

"Please put it inside." You whimpered.

"Hells. It’s not that I-"His voice was low, dripping with desire. “That I don’t want-”

"Just against me then? Like before?" You cut him off, moving suddenly shifting your hips to press your aching core against him. Slowly, awkwardly you began to grind on him delighting in his every ridge.

The wanton moans that spilled from your lips electrified Zevlor. Swiftly he took hold of your thighs, his grasp gentle and firm, spreading them open wide. Practically folding in half, your wet cunt fully exposed to him. His eyes were locked on it, wide and hungry, his body tense. Zevlor spread your lips with his leaking head taking care to drag it teasingly over your clit again and again.

You quickly became a whining mess, writhing and bucking underneath him. Thankfully your display only spurred him on. His pace quickened his hips moving in an unsteady rhythm. The concentration on his face was clear but overshadowed by his lustful gaze. Your heart was racing in your chest. You had never seen Zevlor like this, looking like a creature ready to sink his fangs into you. But he was still keeping himself together.

Trying your best to move with him you met his thrusts, pulling a chorus of low husky groans from his throat.

"Zevlor I- oh fuck it's sooo good!" You were babbling, barely able to put a sentence together. Your head was swimming with each stroke but your need to see your beloved lose himself in pleasure was all consuming.

"Gods please Zevlor." you whimpered. "I'm all yours! You can have me. You can fuck me like you need! You can- Ahhh!- stretch me open on that huge cock and-"

Your words were cut short as Zevlor moved you with a breathtaking ease. He snapped your trembling legs together and threw them over his shoulder. You were pulled hard against him, his grasp surely leaving sweet bruises on your skin. He roughly pushed his cock between your thighs, easily with the amount of precum he'd been dribbling. The second he was sheathed between them he took you ruthlessly, pounding into you with a strength that made you dizzy with excitement.

You relished it, every part intoxicating you. His breathy pants, his sweat on your skin, the slap of his heavy balls against you. How long would it be before he would be rutting inside you like this? Squeezing your thighs together you swore you could feel him throbbing. Zevlor nearly howled when he was overcome. Thrusting hard he rode through his orgasm with sporadic motion. Sighing, you delighted in the heat of the thick white ropes he spilled over your thighs, stomach and breasts.

As Zevlor stilled the conflict returned to his face. His eyes reminded you of a sad hound, waiting to be scolded. With a glowing smile you hummed coyly, ready to banish those thoughts from him forever. You brushed your hands over yourself spreading his seed joyfully over your skin before bringing a hand to your lips. His eyes never left yours as you licked his cum from your fingers. You couldn't help but beam, both at the taste of him and the sight of Zevlor's fears melting to a comfortable warmth.

He threw himself over you, his mouth capturing yours with a fierce urgency. Your arms and legs snaked around him needing to be as close as possible. The two of you were a messy, desperate tangle of limbs and love. Your whole body was buzzing with excitement, at the possibility of the passions and pleasures laid before you. 

[moonblossom7]

Baby Daddy!Logan thoughts

Wolverine x AFAB! reader

a/n: go into all of my x-men fics n stuff with canon as a mere suggestion :) this one's pretty ok,but yk. For future reference.

contents: fluff, girl dad!Logan,a kid b4 marriage(accidental but wanted),slight angst sprinkled in,lightly suggestive in one bit but it's not full nsfw or anything

🌸 Logan didn't mean to get you pregnant and he was honestly upset when you first found out. He was happy for you,bc you wanted kids but he didn't think he deserved to be a father.

🌸 Once he decided he was sticking around (because let's be honest,there was some part of him that thought leaving so you could find someone better was the move) he's very attentive.

🌸and I'm not just talking "oh,he goes to every check up and rubs your feet" I'm talking he will hike ten miles in the snow at 2 a.m if you're craving something specific and will return with a smile on his face because yeah,that was tough but you're growing a kid,which is harder.

🌸really wanted you to have a home birth,mainly because he doesn't trust medical situations,especially if you and the baby are also mutants. (and if you still do it at the hospital,he is fucking VIGILANT. He's watching every fucking thing that happens like a hawk.)

🌸you have a girl ofc

🌸he's never really been around kids this little,so for a long time he doesn't know what to do with her.

🌸he uses Jean's Facebook to look at parenting tips(he later learns this is not the greatest source),and consequentially ends up buying a ton of stuff that your daughter is too young to even need off Marketplace (bikes,clothes meant for much older kids,rain boots,jungle gym,etc.)

🌸he hates!! Hates!! those little tutus that seem to be on every little girl onesie, he thinks the tulle is scratchy and how on earth could someone subject their baby to that?

🌸a lot of the clothes your daughter winds up wearing are pretty gender neutral and frequently thrifted or bought from small businesses. Logan says this is because modern,mainstream baby clothes are "Down right fucking hideous,who designs this shit?"

🌸he makes some of her toys. A small set of wooden blocks here, a patchy ugly teddy bear there. He just doesn't love the unnaturally bright colors and loud noises that most baby toys come with,plus,he's got a lot of affection he doesn't know what to do with.

🌸hates late night diaper changes with a passion. He only just started sleeping without nightmares,and the baby won't even let him get a full 8 hours?? He takes all of them though,because "you do the more important stuff"

🌸big fan of the way your appearance changed,btw. I personally think he's always been the type to find stretch marks and some squish attractive,but the fact that these are from you growing his little girl makes it all the more beautiful.

🌸he is not,however,a fan of having to wait until you're healed up for bedroom stuff. He can do it, he's not an animal,but you're just so fucking gorgeous and he's so fucking happy. But,your health comes first, and he's not so stupid as to think he knows better than you on this.

🌸he doesn't quit smoking,but does at least start going outside and wearing a different jacket when he does it. He always washes his hands and face after he's done before he does anything near the baby.

🌸since this is *my* personal x-men canon, we're going to say that Laura is around the mansion somewhere and is not overly hyped about the baby sister. She's a little possessive over her dad,as some little girls are. (She'll get over it soon,especially once the baby is old enough to play with)

🌸Logan takes the baby on adventures once she's old enough to not get sick over everything. He'll pack a bag and disappear with Laura and the baby for a few hours,with very little explanation, and come back with a snoring toddler and a 10 year old covered in mud.

🌸he's happy that this kid has his mutation in it's organic form,instead of being injected with metal. however,it does make her stick out a bit visually. (she begins to display it at around age 11,with claws that aren't super sharp at all compared to Logan and Laura)

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

ok so that's it lolsies. Lmk if you want anything else with this idea or any specific scenarios.

[cherrysnax]

oh yeah we were also wondering why we flock to media with dead kids that haunt the narrative both figuratively and literally and uh :) yeah we know why

[duckyfann9871]

The asexual x allo dating dynamic is so wack because you guys will have sex like once a month and they’ll be really needy for you but you’re like “?? We literally JUST had sex!” And they’ll be like “no we didn’t, it’s been like 2 weeks” and you have to remember how some people literally do this like every other day HOW

[kil9]

probably my biggest killjoy moment is that i think 9/11 jokes can go way too far. i think people like to dunk on "america" as a vague concept, but i dont think a government being bad means that 2 buildings and 4 commercial flights of regular people deserved to die...

[satori-runa]

—Come and love me

Summary: Mr.Crawling has different ways to love you.

Tags: Smut, Praise Kink, Cockwarming, Body Worship, Mutual Mastubation, Female reader, fluff, Spoilers for ENDING 04

Words: 1,8k

MDNI, ADULT CONTENT UNDER CUT

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Mr. Crawling is someone who craves the comfort of human touch, but he’s always considerate of your boundaries. No matter how much he yearns for affection, he puts your comfort first, often suppressing his own desires to ensure you’re at ease.

Still, he can’t help but get a bit whiny when you return after a long day outside. On the days when you ask him to stay home, he becomes lonely and restless, waiting impatiently for you. He often lies on your bed with his head nestled on your pillow, inhaling your scent to soothe himself until he hears your footsteps approaching the front door.

The moment you step inside and praise him for being well-behaved, he lights up completely. Mr. Crawling has a serious praise kink, and it’s evident. Mr. Crawling is practically addicted to your praise; it’s like his own personal drug. The second you open your mouth and let a sweet, honeyed word slip out, he’s already trembling with delight. He reacts instantly, a visible shiver of pleasure rolling through his body, mouth going wide as he drinks in every syllable. It’s not just about the words themselves but the way you say them—soft and genuine, like you really mean it. It makes him feel so loved, so needed.

He can’t hide how badly he wants it, how desperate he is for your approval. Even the smallest bit of praise, like a simple "Good boy," can have him biting his lip, his breath hitching as if you’ve touched him in the most intimate way. The effect is almost comical; his face flushes, and he looks like he’s on cloud nine, squirming slightly like he can’t quite contain himself. He craves it so deeply that he actively seeks it out, doing whatever he can to earn your compliments. Of course he deserves a treat for his good behavior.

The treat he prefers most is one he chose himself. Nothing satisfies him more than when you settle into his lap and cockwarm him, taking him by surprise as you sink down onto his length. The sudden feeling of you enveloping him never fails to draw out a choked gasp, his hips twitching up instinctively as he tries to control himself. He loves this position more than anything—the closeness, the intimacy of it. He holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging as if you might slip away if he lets go. He’s reluctant to release you unless you explicitly ask him to; he’d keep you there forever if he could.

He savors the way your body fits perfectly against his, the softness of your skin against his cooler touch. He buries his face into your neck, breathing in your scent, his lips grazing your pulse as he shudders at the feeling of your warmth surrounding his cock.

He tries so hard to stay still, knowing you need this quiet moment of comfort, but it’s almost impossible for him. His hips shift ever so slightly, his cock throbbing inside you, and he can’t help the tiny, desperate movements he makes, even if they’re unintentional.

He can’t keep his hands to himself either. His fingers are restless, wandering across your body like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. He takes moments to worship you, pressing his lips to your collarbone, your shoulders, any spot he can reach. His kisses are soft but hungry, lips parting as he drags his tongue over your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat. He lets out a needy, broken moan as his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. He’s inexperienced, a little clumsy with his movements, but the eagerness behind it is undeniable. He’s trying so hard to make you feel good, his breath coming out in hot, ragged pants as he watches your reactions intently.

It’s not always sexual, at least not in the way he intends. Sometimes he just wants to feel you, to savor the heat of your body pressed against his, to revel in the way your warmth spreads through him. He loves the sensation of your skin against his own, the soft give of your flesh under his fingertips. But he can’t help himself; even when he’s just trying to hold you, he ends up teasing you without realizing it. His hips roll up slightly, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your chest. He’s so sensitive, so easily overwhelmed by the feeling of you wrapped around him, that every little movement you make drives him wild.

He’s not practiced or skilled, and it shows in the way he fumbles, his touches uncoordinated but full of raw desire. He pinches your nipples a little too hard, a whimper escaping his lips when he realizes it, but instead of pulling back, he leans in closer, mouthing at the swell of your breast like he’s making up for it. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your hips as he struggles to keep himself from thrusting up into you. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants to savor the moment or chase after more, and it leaves him caught in this desperate, needy place that only you can pull him out of.

When it comes to mutual masturbation, it’s a different kind of intimacy, one that he’s hesitant about at first but quickly grows to crave. He hates touching himself when he’s alone, but with you, it’s different. You’re right there with him, your hand entwined with his, guiding him through the motions. He watches you, excited and breathless, his own hand trembling as he mirrors your movements. There’s something incredibly intimate about the way you both touch yourselves together, a shared vulnerability that makes his heart race.

He loves it when you talk to him through it, whispering sweet nothings, telling him how good he looks, how well he’s doing. It makes the experience bearable—no, more than that—it makes it beautiful. He’s not embarrassed when he’s with you: he’s not self-conscious or insecure. He’s just caught up in the moment, in the way your bodies move together, the way your breath hitches and syncs up with his.

When your hand finds his, coaxing him to stroke himself while you do the same, he whimpers softly, his fingers twitching against your palm. It’s overwhelming for him, the sensation of his own touch combined with the sight of you doing the same. He can’t stop himself from moaning, a needy, broken sound that escapes his lips as he watches you, completely captivated by the sight. "Me like you." You might whisper, and it takes everything in him to comply, the combination of your voice and your gaze making his whole body tremble.

You can tell how much he loves it by the way he leans into you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he touches himself with your guidance, whimpering in between. He’s panting, mouth open, like he’s too lost in the pleasure to look at anything else. The moment you reach out and wrap your hand around his, helping him stroke himself, he lets out a desperate moan, his entire body shivering as he clutches onto you. He’s a mess, but he’s your mess, completely undone by the shared pleasure and the feeling of your touch.

Mr. Crawling can be so eager when it comes to pleasuring you in return, that it borders on frantic. He doesn’t always take his time—sometimes, when he’s overwhelmed with excitement and craving you desperately, all of his usual patience flies out the window. He’ll drop between your legs, pulling you closer with a roughness that’s uncharacteristic for him, but it’s not out of aggression: it’s pure, unfiltered need. His hands are trembling as they grip your thighs, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. He’s already panting, like he can’t believe you’re letting him do this, and it makes him that much more impatient.

He dives in without hesitation, his mouth pressing against you hungrily, almost clumsily, as if he can’t bear to wait a second longer. His tongue flicks out, sloppy and uncoordinated at first, but it’s the urgency behind it that makes it so intoxicating. He’s lapping at you like a man starved, the sounds he makes—soft whimpers and desperate groans—filling the room. He’s inexperienced, but there’s something endearing about the way he tries so hard, so eager to please you even if he’s not entirely sure what he’s doing. He’s guided more by instinct than skill, following your reactions like they’re the only thing that matters.

He keeps glancing up at you, his face excited and yet almost pleading, as if he’s searching for reassurance that he’s doing it right. When he sees your pleasure written across your face, it only spurs him on. He loses himself in it, licking at you with a feverish intensity that makes it clear just how badly he needs this. He doesn’t bother with precision: he’s messy, licking you with broad, hurried strokes, his lips sucking at your clit with a desperate fervor. He moans into you, the vibrations sending little shocks of pleasure through your body, and you can tell he’s getting off on this as much as you are.

His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, like he’s afraid you might pull away. He’s whimpering into you, his tongue moving erratically, like he’s trying everything at once, too caught up in his own excitement to settle into any kind of rhythm. It’s overwhelming for him—the taste of you, the feel of your skin under his hands, the sounds you make when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. He’s panting between licks, his mouth never straying far from you, desperate to keep going even when he’s gasping for breath.

He’s a little too rough at times, sucking at your clit with a bit too much pressure, but the enthusiasm in his actions makes it hard to fault him for it. He’s learning from your reactions, his own inexperience showing through in the way he fumbles a bit, but it only adds to the intensity of the moment. When you tug on his hair, moaning out his name, he practically whines, grinding his face into you with renewed fervor. He’s almost overwhelmed by his own need, licking and sucking like he can’t get enough, like he’s trying to memorize every part of you with his mouth.

If you try to guide him, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging gently to slow him down, he lets out a frustrated, needy sound, shaking his head as if to tell you he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to pace himself. He’s too lost in the moment, too eager to please, to care about taking his time. He’s devouring you like he’s afraid this is his only chance, like he’s desperate to prove how much he wants you, how much he loves being here, between your legs, giving you everything he can.

.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ft Gojo Satoru

— Six years. He’s loved you for six years. He was too young back then but now he’s not. And he plans on showing you that.

᧔♡᧓ Semi Yandere! Gojo x Fem! Reader

᧔♡᧓ Content: age gap (gojo’s 21 n reader is 27), obsessive behavior, smut, pussy eating, porn with some plot, cheating while in talking stage, petnames, praise, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, gaslighting

᧔♡᧓ A/n: reader always saw gojo as a brother since he was so young, and never really developed feelings for him. it was just lust taking over when they fucked

Six years of friendship with your current best friend. Six years in which her little brother Gojo has had a crush on you. Six years of you only cooing with a giggle as you ruffled his fluffy white head of hair before calling his doting nature cute.

Six years.

Six years that he’s waited for you, becoming more of a man for you. Working out, gaining experience. It was all for you.

You’re twenty seven now, barely any different since the first time he met you. Your soft features still as beautiful as ever and your body just as perfect as he remembered. He’s studied you over the years. Every single time you came over. Studied your patterns, your every move, your likes, your dislikes, he’d even gotten to know your type.

He’d loved you since he was fifteen.

But he’s not a little kid anymore. He’s grown. Twenty one years old. Mature enough to be yours, to take care of you. He deserved you after waiting for so long. And he would show you. Show you that you needed him just as bad, craved him as much as he craved you. He’s the one for you, you just had to open your eyes and see that.

Gojo knows you feel at least a slight bit of attraction towards him. Hell, you’d called him handsome so many times— even though it had been strictly platonic— that you have to had felt something.. right?

On his eighteenth birthday you were there with him, his friends and his sister. He’d even brought a girl, introducing her as his girlfriend to try for a reaction out of you. But you didn’t bat an eye, you were genuinely happy for him. It made his jaw clench, but he was reminded of why he loved you. You were so sweet and caring. A big smile on your face as you embraced him in a hug, giving him the present that you’d been so excited to get. It was something that he had wanted for a while. A part of you saw him and his sister as the siblings you’d never had.

He didn’t need your gift, of course. He had enough money to buy anything he wanted. But it being from you made it special.. so so very special. Especially since you had listened to him. And it was his turn to return the favor. The random expensive gifts never stopped, every time you came over for the next three years it seemed that there was always something wrapped and waiting for you. Somethings just never change, you thought to yourself, piecing together that the boy’s crush had never left.

Then his gifts started getting more and more.. well, whatever you’d consider those matching lace sets that were accompanied a little note that made you swallow hard. Followed up by short dresses and eventually fancy shoes and purses to match. Not to mention the collection of jewelry you’d gotten from him.

Then he was.. less subtle, sending small smirks and winks your way. Finding any excuse just to be next to you or let his hands innocently wander during a hug.

You were not going to tell his sister. You didn’t want there to be any problems between them. You also couldn’t just start coming over less, she was like family to you. So you let his harmless crush continue.

…

Gojo swears luck was on his side, the universe wanting to make things easier for him. You had a boyfriend, a guy you worked with who was a good five years older than you. Like he said, you had a type, and he checked out none of these boxes. He knew everything about the dude, and he knew that he was not good enough for you. He tried to warn you, but what did you do? You smiled at what you took as him being worried about your well being.

So when you came knocking on his front door, flinging yourself into his sister’s arms as you cried into her shoulder. He knew. That asshole had broken your heart. He’d deal with it. He’d truly make the guy regret hurting you.

You were at his house all week, falling into the stage of the break up where you sat in your room (with their house so big you were bound to have one if your own) watching tv with a tub of ice cream and a string of adorable laughter. Anything to take your mind off the sting in your chest.

Then you were out. Everywhere. Going to clubs and parties with his sister just as you two did when you were a little younger. It was reckless, what if you got hurt? What is someone tried something? You were a sight for sore eyes after all. He would make sure to never let that happen. It was why he always accompanied you, whether you were aware of it or not. It was no surprise that you were never able to get laid, despite all the ogling eyes set on you.

…

Gojo leaned against the bathroom’s door frame as you emptied your stomach’s contents into the toilet in front of you. Small moans of displeasure filling the room as your body slumped against it. After math of a night full of drinking.

His arms were folded across his chest, muscles bulging through the tight black fabric which was paired with grey sweats which hung lowly on his hips. Gojo chuckled, pushing himself to stand straight before walking over to you. Stooping down to your current height with the shake of his head. “You should know better than this baby.”

Your brows furrowed, opening your mouth to question him before your head was over the bowl once more. Tears welling in your eyes at the massive headache that had sprung to life. “Shh shh shh baby.” He whispered, “let it all out, you’ll feel better soon.” He soothed, pushing stray strands away from your sweaty forehead while stroking softly at your hair. Whispering little words of encouragement as he held you, smiling sadly when the hug caused you to break down in his arms. No doubt reminding you of your recent breakup.

“Here, i brought you some panadol.” He reached for the two pills and the cup of water on the counter. Letting you sit with your back against his chest as he guided them up to your mouth, bringing the cup to your lips right after. “Here, drink it all okay?” You nodded, swallowing down the water along with the pain relievers. Gojo’s lips pressing softly to your head as he continued to stroke your skin.

You’d fallen asleep. And he’d laid you down on his bed instead of yours. Tucking you in and leaving you to rest.

Downstairs he found his sister, an empty cup sat in front of her along with the pill bottle. She’d clearly been hungover too. “Where is she?”

Gojo gave her a knowing look. “She’s sleeping.”

“Where?”

“My room.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing, not liking the way she was watching him. Was she really that selfish over her best friend.

“Satoru.. she’s twenty seven. You need to get over this stupid little crush of yours and go find someone your own age. She doesn’t want you, she never will.”

Gojo seethed, fists already at his side as he stared angrily at his sister. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Satoru come on-“

“No.” His voice was firm, he didn’t look angry anymore, he looked hurt. “Just.. shut up, please.” A part of him knew that maybe he’d just never be enough for you.

…

Making his way back upstairs Gojo had a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs along with a glass of hot tea. He walked into his room to find your eyes only just fluttering open with the small stretch of your body. Blinking your eyes to adjust to the bright light while taking in your surroundings, realizing immediately where you were, and who was standing at the door.

“Oh.. Satoru, hi.” Your voice was timid, embarrassed to have been seen in your drunken state by the boy.

“Hey, how’s your head? I brought you breakfast.” He set the food down near the bed before taking a seat next to you. Allowing his fingers to play with the fallen hair from your bun.

“T-thanks.” You nodded, shifting to sit up before grabbing a strip of the crispy meat.

He wouldn’t stop staring at you, couldn’t stop staring at you. And you smiled in his direction, “thanks a lot, i should really get back to my room though.”

He shrugged, “or you could just stay, it’s not like we’re doing anything.” He grinned. “Yet.”

You couldn’t help the way your cheeks heated up at that statement. “It’s okay, i think i’ll just-“

“Stay. Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll even put on your favorite.” Reaching for the remote to search for your favorite show. You bit your lip nervously, not understanding how he could act so normal after all the inappropriate gifts and advances.

His smile never faltered as his hand ‘accidentally’ found yours, slipping his fingers into your own. Not allowing you to let go even if you tried.

…

The next few days were.. good. Gojo had assumed that everything was going well. They were going well, until you decided to ruin everything.

Toji Fushiguro.

A forty something year old man with two children. That’s who you were talking to. Gojo didn’t appreciate how hard you making things for him. You were supposed to be his and he was supposed to be yours.

He was tired of waiting for you to come to him, so he went to you. Knocking on your door with vigor and a small scowl. When the door swung open you were mid-laugh, Toji coming into view behind you with a glass of champagne in hand.

“Seriously? You’ve been ignoring us for him? Him?” Gojo accused pointedly, “My sister misses you, she’s been crying. A lot. Says you’re choosing a guy over your friendship.”

His jaw was hard as he fed you lies through his teeth. Watching your eyes widen as you pondered. Were you ignoring your best friend? You’d seen her just earlier today. You guys had hung out, gone for lunch. Talked about who you both liked with big smiles and non stop giggles. It didn’t feel like anything had changed. “I.. I didn’t realize- i’m sorry.” You didn’t know what to say, it made zero sense. But why would he lie?

Gojo silently cheered as you sadly asked Toji to leave. Giving him a small kiss on the cheek and promising to call him tomorrow. He was not very happy about the last part, but at least he was alone with you.

As soon as he left Gojo marched into your apartment. Nearly falling over his two feet when the scent hit him. Your scent, stronger than ever, that sweet strawberry smell that he’d grown to love.

“Satoru, i didn’t-”

He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. “It’s okay I forgive you.” Turning around for his hand to snake to the back of your neck, heart rate speeding up as he crashed his lips onto yours.

You whimpered in surprise, Gojo controlling the kiss as he backed you up against a wall. His lips quickly traveling down to your neck in desperation. “You know, i’ve waited so long. So fucking long. Waited for you. For us. I’ve given you everything, i’ve done everything. But it’s just never enough is it? You’re just too ungrateful huh baby?”

You moaned loudly. “Satoru.. what are you.. hmm.”

“I’m taking what’s mine baby. Taking what i deserve. I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m a man. I can take care of you.” His lips moved with force, sucking harshly at your skin as he kissed down your chest, free hand roaming to your ass with a squeeze. “I’m old enough to be yours. This isn’t just some crush anymore. I fucking love you.”

You could feel your heart pounding as he uttered the words you wished he hadn’t. “Satoru we can’t.. your sister’s my best friend. I’m still older than you.”

“She’ll get over it.” He breathed, making quick work of your tank top that clung deliciously to your tits. “We’re both consenting adults now aren’t we. If you tell me to stop, i’ll stop.”

Your mouth went dry, lips parting to demand him to go but you couldn’t. You didn’t want him too. What was wrong with you?

“So what will it be baby? Stop? Or don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop..” You mumbled in shame, avoiding his eyes as you looked away. Gojo’s fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing you to turn back to face him.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, don’t stop.” You said a little louder, cheeks burning up under his touch.

“Good girl. I knew you were playing hard to get.” He grinned, “You love the chase as much as i do.”

Gojo’s arms hooked under your thighs, lifting you onto him before reattaching your lips. Carrying you to your bedroom to drop you onto the sheets. Lips never leaving yours as you both hurriedly undressed. He was addicted to you, and having you set fire to his veins. This was all he’d ever wanted.

Gojo dropped to his knees before you, kissing lightly at your pussy before enclosing it with his mouth. Tongue lapping you up hungrily as you moaned, fingers finding his hair with a tremble.

“Satoru— feels so good, haah.” You breathed, Gojo burying his face between your legs with a tight grip on your thighs. Allowing your legs to wrap around his neck as he devoured your sopping heat. You were so sweet— just like everything else about you. And he couldn’t help but rut against nothing as more blood rushed to his cock. Finding pleasure in getting to taste you after years of jerking off to the image.

He’s seen your room more than you, always snatching a pair of anything he could find. Just to be able to hold you in any way or form. Feel you on his skin. Touch something that had already touched you.

Gojo pulled away with his face glistening, “Learned how to do this just for you baby. Wanted to be good for our first time.” He smiled lazily, eyes dark with need as he got back to work, sending muffled groans into your bundle of nerves while you mewled loudly. Back arching with the curl of your toes before trying to pull away.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo growled lowly, fingers digging painlessly into your flesh as he pulled you impossibly closer, tongue flicking at your clit before his lips closed around it. Sucking and swirling the sensitive bud into his mouth with a satisfied hum. All while you cried out above him, moans getting louder each time you called out his name.

It was like music. The sweetest song ever. Hearing you moan for him, moan out of pleasure, need, lust. Knowing that it was him making you feel so good. He almost came right there, determined to give you the best orgasm of your life with just his tongue. You tugged at his strands, your vision blurred in the nearing of your high.

“Satoru— o-oh fuck Satoru, ‘m gonna cum. Nngh, you’re gonna make me cum.” You moaned noisily, lewd slurps and sloppily kisses filling your ears as he made out with your wet pussy.

Gojo loved how much you were squirming, your legs tightening around his neck as you screamed. You actually screamed. He made you scream. His tongue was awaiting when you began to shake, toes curled and eyes rolled back as you squirted nonstop. The clear liquid gushing onto his face and tongue in long streams.

You whined at the overstimulation when he licked a stripe up your pussy. Collecting every last bit of your sweetness before standing up. You were panting, hard. And Gojo felt accomplished as he smirked. “Has any older man ever made you cum this hard baby?”

Your head was dizzy, trying to bring yourself back down to earth as you blinked up at him with the shake of your head.

He scoffed in pride, “Now try telling me that i’m too young for you now.”

Gojo was quick to lay you flat on the bed and crawl in on top of you. Consequences of your latest activities still fresh on his chin and chest. There were so many positions he wanted to take you in, but first he wanted to see you fall apart under him. See your face contort into one of pure bliss when he started pounding into you.

“You ready for me?” He husked, impressive cock already swiping up and down your slick filled folds. You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes with parted lips. “Ready.”

You both shared a drawn out moan when he nestled his cock past your tight entrance. Feeling him graze your gummy walls before reaching deep within you.

You felt so good, so tight.. warm. And he felt so deep, so big.. perfect.

“This pussy was made for me.” He grunted with a loud groan, slowly speeding up his pace till he was fucking into you with no end. Hips snapping into yours as his cock kissed your spot, prodding at your cervix with every hard thrust. “Fuck- look at how well you’re taking me. Fucking swallowing me all the way in.”

You only moaned in response, teary eyes meeting his sinful ones as he molded you around his cock. Making sure that you knew nothing but the shape of him, the feel of him, when you were done.

Letting out the whiniest cry, your arms reached up around his shoulders, clawing at his skin when you felt your stomach tighten.

You could feel him so deep, the roll of his hips allowing his fat tip to curl up and kiss exactly where you needed it most. The fast pace pulling short screams past your swollen lips.

“Satoru— haah, you’re so deep. I love it s’ much Toru. So m-much— ahh.” You couldn’t think straight, your brain only registering the way he was sliding in and out of you. It was all you could think about in that moment l, the way he felt.

Gojo watched you fall apart, just like he wanted. Your glossy eyes closing as your head fell further into the pillow, unable to control your noises as you got closer and closer.

“You don’t know how hot you look right now. I love seeing you like this. All for me.” His voice cracked, cock twitching in an aching cry to get its release.

“S-satoru, ‘m so close. Gonna cum again.” You choked out, nails piercing into his broad back as your hands roamed down.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess f’ me again hmm? All that denying me, making me feel like our love was one sided. You put me through a lot you know.” He shook his head. “If only you knew the lengths i’d go for you.”

His eyes were crazed, and a shiver raked through your body at his words, whimpering as you succumbed to the building pleasure with a mewl. “O-oh fuckk.”

“Nuh uh, baby. Apologize to me first then you cum.” His tone was firm, serious. He wanted to hear you say it.

“Ahh, ‘m sorry Satoru— ‘m so so sorry. You’re goid enough f’ me. Mature enough. You’re perfect. Please let me cum. I need to cum.” You cried, the man on top of you pretending to ponder your words which went straight to his cock before smiling darkly. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.”

Your body shook as you yelled out his name, your surroundings becoming blank when you began to squirt messily, again. The intense orgasm seeming to stun all of your body’s systems as you failed to come back down. Gojo’s continued thrusts keeping pleasure flowing through your sensitive body.

“I love you so much baby. I always did. It makes me so happy that we can finally be together. Fuckk— ‘m all yours. All yours.” He buried his face in your neck, his own eyes closing shut as his body trembled, stilling inside your warmth before you felt his cum pumping into you in spurts. The thick substance coating your every wall in white.

“And now you’re mine.” He didn’t pull out, staying buried inside you in hopes of you two being connected forever. There was one thing he knew and you forgot. You hadn’t taken your birth control in a while, and a part of him hoped that you had seen this coming. That you wanted it. But one thing remained true either way, he was never letting you go.

[suiana]

thinking about a yandere who was cursed by the gods (something similar to medusa), not because he did anything wrong, but because they found him too beautiful and too tempting.

what was once a god of a man was now but... still a handsome man, just with cursed eyes. with eyes that turn anyone into stone the second he gazes upon them. everyone who he once knew were now nothing more than mere statues, having glanced upon his beautiful eyes that now bring death.

he has chosen to live in solitude, away from everyon- well, not really. it's just that the once lively place he lived in.... wasn't so lively after all. i mean, they all turned into stone 💀

anyway, he shut everyone out because #1 they were all dead and #2 he didn't want to lose another person that he loved. what better way than to just... not interact with society and become a social hermit?

enter, you.

little ol' you who accidentally wandered into his place. he was flabbergasted and terrified. shit, he didn't want to kill an innocent person! so he tried to scare you away by making weird noises and blockign off your path while simultaneously not showing his eyes.

but wow, you just kept coming closer and closer!

"stay back! i'm warning you! you'll regret it!"

he tried to cover his eyes, tears threatening to spill from them as he absolutely majestiv form trembled on the spot. man, was he really about to take the life of another innocent person who didn't deserve to get turned into stone??

then you told him you were blind and he felt the fear leave his body as fast as it came.

from then on, the two of you chatted daily, talking about your different lives and such. it helped him regain a sense of... normalcy that he thought he'd forgotten. it was nice having you around.

so much so that he actually started to develop feelings for you. feelings that were so deep and obsessive that others would've probably ran away. not you though, never you. you were the only one to stay by his side despite his unusal predicament. perhaps the gods were sorry for playing such a cruel fate on him and decided to give him a blessing?

wrong.

"sweetheart! sweetheart! it's a miracle!"

your voice snaps him out of his daze, filling him with a giddy feeling that he's come to love and crave. oh you are just so delightful! he swears he could just lock you up to coddle you in hugs and kisses for the rest of his miserable little life!

"darling? what miracle?"

he pauses, feeling his heart drop into his stomach the second you enter his room without your usual glasses on. wait... what are you-

"i've regained my sight! bless the heavens above i-"

"no! no! no! don't look!"

but it was all for naught. you had already turned to stone.

"fuck! why did this happen?! no no no.... please wake up. please, you can't leave me too!"

the beautiful man sobs, cradling you in his arms as his salty tears fall onto your now stone cold cheeks. he cries and begs, voice growing softer and softer as the sun begins to set. how could the gods be so cruel? what had he done so wrong for them to subject him to such a fate? fine! take away his friends! take away his family! but why did they have to take you too?

"please come back...."

things were only made worse because today was the day when he'd finally decided to ask you to spend the rest of your lives together.

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: First Years

the rest will be in a separate post <3

Others: Housewardens + Jamil ; Vice housewardens + Rollo, Neige

Ace Trappola

Ace bounces into the room, still riding the high of his basketball victory. His grin is wide, and he’s practically glowing with confidence. “Alright, so are we going with Sprite or Coke for this exclusive VIP party?” he asks, digging through the mini fridge with exaggerated flair.

You don’t answer. Instead, you step closer and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a firm hug.

He freezes for a second before letting out a laugh, his tone teasing. “Wow, I didn’t realize winning a game made me this irresistible.” He turns his head to try and catch your expression, expecting a playful retort, but when you don’t let go or even laugh, his teasing fades.

“Hey,” he says more softly, twisting slightly to look at you. “You good?”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your hands still gripping his jersey. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, voice steady but warm. “I just… I love you, Ace. And I’m really, really proud of you.”

For a moment, he’s completely still, blinking at you like he can’t quite process your words. Then he lets out a shaky laugh, his arms coming up to pull you closer. “Don’t get all soft on me now,” he mutters, but there’s a tremor in his voice, and his hold on you is anything but casual.

Ace is the kind of guy who hides behind his jokes and bravado. He’s the loudest in the room, the one always cracking jokes to deflect attention from anything that might feel too serious or too vulnerable.

He plays it cool, like nothing ever really gets to him. But deep down, he’s always wondered if he’s enough—enough to be taken seriously, enough to make someone proud, enough to deserve the kind of unconditional love he’s always quietly craved.

Hearing you say those words, feeling the sincerity in your hug—it’s almost overwhelming. The teasing grin he wears so easily is replaced by something softer, something real.

He buries his face in your shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks,” he says, the single word carrying more weight than he usually lets on.

In your arms, Ace allows himself to feel it all—the pride, the love, the relief. He might joke about being irresistible or too cool for heartfelt moments, but the truth is, you make him feel like he doesn’t need to be anything other than himself. And that? That’s everything.

Deuce Spade

Deuce sits at his desk, the faint sound of pencil scratches and frustrated sighs filling the room. His brow is furrowed, and his leg bounces anxiously under the table. “Why can’t I get this?” he mutters, flipping through his notes for the hundredth time. “I should know this by now. I have to get this right.”

You watch him for a moment, heart aching at the stress etched into his face. He’s always trying so hard—pushing himself to be the perfect honor student, the model example. You know how much he wants to prove himself, but sometimes, he forgets that it’s okay to lean on others.

Without a word, you walk over and wrap your arms around him. At first, Deuce stiffens in surprise, but the tension melts away almost instantly as he leans into your embrace. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice a little shaky. “What’s this for?”

You don’t answer right away, just holding him tightly. His hands come up to rest on your arms, his grip firm, like he’s drawing strength from you. After a moment, though, he shifts slightly, craning his neck to look at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. “You’ve been holding on for a while…”

You smile, shaking your head gently. “I’m fine. I just… I’m really proud of you, Deuce. I see how hard you work, how much you care about doing your best. I don’t think you hear it enough, but I’m proud of you.”

For a moment, he’s silent, his wide eyes searching yours like he’s trying to make sure you mean it. And then, without warning, he pulls you back into the hug, tighter this time, his arms wrapped around you like he never wants to let go.

Deuce has spent so much of his life trying to prove himself—to his mom, to his teachers, to his classmates. He worries constantly about whether he’s good enough, whether he’ll ever live up to the expectations he’s set for himself. Deep down, there’s a part of him that fears he’ll always be that hotheaded troublemaker he used to be, no matter how hard he tries to change.

But in your arms, all of that seems to fade. When you tell him you’re proud of him, it feels like a gift he doesn’t quite deserve, but one he’s so grateful for that it hurts. He doesn’t feel like he has to pretend to be perfect or have it all figured out—not with you.

“You’re… you’re the best,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

To Deuce, you’re like a miracle—a gift from the Sevens themselves. Someone who sees him for who he is and believes in him even when he’s struggling to believe in himself. And as he holds you close, he silently vows to keep doing his best—not just for himself, but for you, too.

Jack Howl

Jack sets the heavy crate down with ease, brushing his hands on his pants before glancing at you. “Alright, that’s the last one,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “You didn’t have to lift a finger. Told you I’d handle it.”

You smile at him, watching as he dusts himself off, the faintest sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. Jack always insists on doing the hard work, carrying the weight—literally and figuratively. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t ask for help, just powers through with quiet determination.

Before he can turn back to the next task, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. He stiffens slightly, caught off guard, but then his arms come up to hold you in return.

“What’s this for?” he asks, his voice soft but curious.

You don’t answer right away, simply holding him tighter. Jack stays quiet, but you can feel his tail wagging behind him, a faint swish against the ground. When you don’t let go, though, he starts to shift slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, concern evident in his tone. His ears flick nervously, his golden eyes scanning your face.

You smile up at him, shaking your head lightly. “I’m fine, Jack. I just… I just love you, and I’m really glad to have you in my life. You’re always looking out for me, always working so hard. I don’t think I say it enough, but I really appreciate you.”

For a moment, Jack just looks at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he pulls you back into the hug, his grip firm and grounding. He doesn’t say anything, but his tail betrays him, wagging faster now, practically spinning like a motor.

Jack isn’t used to hearing things like that. He’s always been the dependable one, the one people rely on but rarely the one people go out of their way to thank. There’s a part of him that wonders if he’s only valued for his strength, for what he can do rather than who he is. It’s a quiet insecurity, one he keeps buried deep, but it’s there all the same.

But when you hold him like this, when you tell him how much he means to you, it feels like a weight has been lifted. You don’t just see him as the reliable guy who carries the heavy stuff or takes care of the hard work. You see him—Jack, with all his flaws and strengths, and you love him anyway.

His tail thumps against the ground now, a silent giveaway to how much your words mean to him. He doesn’t need to say anything; the way he holds you, the way his tail wags furiously, tells you everything.

In your arms, Jack feels something he’s not sure he’s ever felt before—completely understood and appreciated for who he is, not just what he can do. And for him, that’s more than enough.

Epel Felmier

The two of you were walking back to Ramshackle, Epel chatting animatedly about something funny that had happened during class. His hands were moving as he spoke, when a sudden whistling sound cut through the air.

You didn’t even have time to react before Epel’s hand shot out, summoning a precise burst of magic that sent the incoming magift disc flying back in the direction it came. It hit its mark with a loud clang before tumbling harmlessly to the ground.

“Idiots need to watch where they’re aiming,” he muttered, brushing it off like it was nothing. Then, without missing a beat, he reached for your hand, his grip firm yet casual as he led you back toward your dorm.

The moment you stepped inside, you turned to him, your arms wrapping around him tightly. He let out a small, surprised “Whoa,” his hands instinctively coming up to hold you back.

“Hey, what’s this for?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a bit of embarrassment. He hugged you back anyway, his fingers lightly rubbing your back, but when you didn’t pull away, his expression shifted to concern.

“You alright?” he asked, leaning back just enough to look at your face. “Did that disc scare ya? I didn’t think—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted softly, squeezing him tighter. “I just love you, Epel. And that was so cool. You were so quick, and you didn’t even hesitate. I’m… I’m really lucky to have you.”

Epel blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process your words. Then, as your words sank in, his cheeks flushed a deep pink, and his lips curled into a small, bashful smile.

“You think… I’m cool?” he asked, his voice almost timid, as if he didn’t quite believe it.

“I know you are,” you said, your tone firm and sincere.

Something in him seemed to shift at that. Epel pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly now, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

He’d spent so much of his life feeling like he had to prove himself—to his family, to his classmates, even to himself. Being underestimated because of his height or his face had always left a bitter taste in his mouth, pushing him to work harder, fight stronger, and shout louder just to be taken seriously.

But in this moment, none of that mattered. You didn’t see him as fragile or weak, didn’t treat him like someone who needed to prove anything. You saw him for who he was, and you loved him for it.

The warmth in his chest spread to his face as he buried it against your neck, his arms tightening just a little more. He didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence speak for him.

When he finally did speak, his voice was quiet but steady. “I’m lucky to have you too, y’know. More’n I deserve.”

You smiled, holding him just as tightly, letting your presence remind him that he was already more than enough. For the first time in a long time, Epel felt like he didn’t need to prove a thing. You thought he was cool, and that was all he needed to hear.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was mid-sentence, his voice rising in animated fervor.

“And that’s why this tale of heroism directly correlates to Lord Malleus's own virtues! Truly, how could anyone miss the resemblance? Why, if they merely paid attention—”

You didn’t let him finish. Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, pressing your cheek against his chest.

Sebek froze instantly, the words dying in his throat. “Wha—? What are you doing?!” His voice pitched higher, equal parts flustered and confused.

His arms hovered awkwardly for a moment before he tentatively settled them around you, his usual composure crumbling. “Are you hurt? Is something wrong? Speak to me at once!”

When you didn’t respond immediately, Sebek’s grip tightened slightly, and he pulled back just enough to inspect you, his eyes scanning your face with concern. “What has happened? Are you unwell?”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers curling into his uniform as you leaned back into his chest. “I’m fine, Sebek. Really. I just love you.”

Sebek blinked, his mouth opening and closing as your words sank in. He seemed at a rare loss for words as you continued, “I love how passionate you are, how much you care about the things and people you love. It makes me love you even more.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his lips pressed together tightly. Then, without warning, he hugged you back gently, yet firmly, his arms encircling you as though he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

“...I see,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

Sebek had spent so much of his life trying to live up to expectations—his own, his family’s, even the ones he imagined Malleus might have for him. He had always been painfully aware of his mixed heritage and the silent whispers it inspired, of the way his fiery temper and unwavering loyalty often set him apart from others.

Yet with you, none of that seemed to matter. You didn’t judge him for his intensity or his quirks; you embraced them, cherished them, even. And in moments like this, when he felt your arms around him and heard your steady words of love, he was reminded that he didn’t need to prove himself to you.

You saw him—not just as a knight or a servant, but as Sebek.

“I…” His voice wavered for a moment before he steadied it. “I love you as well.”

The words were simple, but the way his arms tightened around you spoke volumes. For all his loud proclamations and larger-than-life demeanor, Sebek’s love was quiet and steadfast, an anchor that held firm against any storm.

And as he rested his chin atop your head, silently committing this moment to memory, he realized something: as long as he had you, everything else seemed just a little less important.

Masterlist

[aeth-eris]

★ chiron in the 1st house ★ you’ve carried the weight of feeling like you’ll never be enough. it’s like the world takes one look at you and decides you’re wrong, flawed, too much or not enough, all at the same time. so you build walls, armor yourself in masks, trying to be what they want, but deep down, you’re still waiting—waiting for someone to see the real you and not run away. you’re scared they never will. but what if you’re already enough, just as you are? what if the person you’ve been hiding is the one who deserves the love you’ve always given to everyone else?

★ chiron in aries ★ you’ve spent your whole life fighting to prove that you’re worthy of being here, of taking up space. somewhere along the way, someone made you feel like you weren’t strong enough, brave enough, or capable enough. now, every step forward feels like a battle, even when no one’s fighting you. but what if you didn’t have to fight anymore? what if you could lay down your armor and still be safe? you’ve always been enough—just as you are, without the fight.

★ chiron in the 2nd house ★ there’s this ache inside you, a quiet voice that whispers you’ll never have enough, never be enough. maybe it started when you were young, watching others have what you couldn’t, feeling like you were on the outside looking in. and now, you tie your worth to things—money, possessions, accomplishments—hoping they’ll fill the emptiness. but they never do. the truth is, you’ve been enough all along. you were never meant to prove your value to anyone. you just forgot how to see it for yourself.

★ chiron in taurus ★ you’ve tied your worth to the things you have—or the things you’ve lost. maybe you’ve never felt like you had enough, or maybe you’ve clung too tightly to what you did, fearing it could slip through your fingers. but it’s not about what you own, who you impress, or how others see you. you are enough, just as you are. the love, the security, the beauty you’ve been searching for? it’s been inside you all along.

★ chiron in the 3rd house ★ words have always felt heavy, haven’t they? like no matter what you say, it’s never the right thing. you’ve been silenced, misunderstood, maybe even laughed at for speaking your truth. so now, you second-guess yourself, swallow the words that ache to be spoken. but here’s the thing—your voice is a gift. it deserves to be heard, even if it shakes. and the people who matter? they’re the ones who will listen, not just to your words, but to your heart.

★ chiron in gemini ★ your words have been silenced, twisted, or ignored, haven’t they? you’ve spent so much time wondering if you’re smart enough, eloquent enough, if you’ll ever truly be heard. sometimes, it feels safer not to speak at all. but your voice matters. your thoughts matter. the world needs what you have to say, even if it takes time to find the right words. start with the truth in your heart—that’s enough.

★ chiron in the 4th house ★ home is supposed to be a sanctuary, but for you, it’s always been complicated. maybe you’ve felt like you didn’t belong, like love came with conditions, like you had to earn your place even in your own family. and now, the idea of safety feels foreign, a dream you’re too scared to believe in. but you can create your own home, a place where you’re finally enough. because you are enough. you always have been.

★ chiron in cancer ★ you’ve craved love and safety more than anything, but it always feels just out of reach. maybe your family didn’t give you the care you needed, or maybe you’ve spent your life trying to be strong for everyone else, hoping someone would finally hold you the way you’ve held them. it’s okay to let yourself be soft, to need, to want. you don’t have to be everything for everyone. you’re allowed to ask for love too.

★ chiron in the 5th house ★ you’ve been told you shouldn’t shine, that your creativity, your joy, your love of life wasn’t good enough. maybe you stopped trying, stopped creating, stopped believing that you deserved to be seen. but there’s a fire in you, a spark that’s never gone out, even if it’s small right now. it’s waiting for you to tend to it, to nurture it, to believe in it again. you deserve to take up space. you deserve to shine.

★ chiron in leo ★ there’s a little part of you that’s always felt unseen, isn’t there? like no matter how brightly you shine, no one’s really looking. maybe they told you to dim your light, or maybe you told yourself it wasn’t worth trying anymore. but the world needs your spark. it needs your warmth, your creativity, your joy. you were born to be seen, to inspire, to lead. don’t let the fear of rejection keep you in the shadows.

★ chiron in the 6th house ★ you’ve worked yourself to the bone, haven’t you? always trying to prove your worth through what you do, what you give, how useful you can be. but no one notices the cracks forming, the quiet desperation for someone to tell you it’s okay to rest. you’ve been carrying so much for so long, and it’s breaking you. you’re allowed to put it down. you’re allowed to take care of yourself.

★ chiron in virgo ★ you’ve spent so much time trying to be perfect, haven’t you? trying to fix yourself, fix others, fix everything. but no matter how much you do, it never feels like it’s enough. the cracks still show, and you hate yourself for them. but those cracks? that’s where the light gets in. healing isn’t about being flawless—it’s about being whole. and you, even with your imperfections, are whole.

★ chiron in the 7th house ★ love has always been a battlefield for you, hasn’t it? you give and give, hoping someone will finally stay, but they don’t. or maybe they do, but it feels like pieces of you get lost along the way. you wonder if you’re too broken to be loved the way you dream of. but you’re not. the love you’ve been searching for is the one you can give to yourself. when you find it, everything else will fall into place.

★ chiron in libra ★ you’ve bent over backward to keep the peace, haven’t you? given so much of yourself away just to make others happy, to feel loved. but deep down, you wonder—what about me? who’s going to make me feel whole? you’ve been so busy holding everything together that you forgot you deserve balance too. your needs, your desires—they matter. it’s time to stop pouring from an empty cup and let yourself be held.

★ chiron in the 8th house ★ loss has followed you, hasn’t it? betrayal, pain, and wounds so deep they feel like they’ve carved pieces out of your soul. you’ve built walls, shut people out, convinced yourself that no one can be trusted, not even yourself. but healing doesn’t mean forgetting the pain—it means transforming it. you have the power to turn your scars into strength. you just have to let yourself feel again.

★ chiron in scorpio ★ you’ve been broken in ways that words can’t describe. you’ve felt the sting of betrayal, the ache of loss, the darkness that feels like it will swallow you whole. and now, you guard yourself, scared to trust, scared to let anyone see just how deep your wounds go. but there’s strength in vulnerability, in letting yourself feel. you have the power to turn your pain into something beautiful, something that heals—not just you, but everyone you touch.

★ chiron in the 9th house ★ they made you feel small, didn’t they? like your dreams were too big, your beliefs too naive. so you stopped reaching, stopped hoping, stopped believing in the magic you once saw in the world. but that magic hasn’t left you. it’s still there, waiting for you to reach for it again. your dreams are valid. your truth is valid. and you are more than enough to bring them to life.

★ chiron in sagittarius ★ your soul is a wanderer, always searching for truth, for meaning, for freedom. but somewhere along the way, someone clipped your wings, made you feel like your dreams were too big or your beliefs were too naive. now, you doubt yourself, your path, your right to take up space in the world. but you were born to expand, to explore, to teach and inspire. the answers you seek are already within you—trust yourself enough to follow them.

★ chiron in the 10th house ★ you’ve carried the weight of expectations, trying to prove your worth through accomplishments and success. but no matter how much you achieve, it never feels like enough. the fear of failure haunts you, and the pressure is suffocating. but you’re not just what you do. you’re so much more. you don’t have to carry this alone anymore. you deserve to be seen for who you are, not just what you accomplish.

★ chiron in capricorn ★ you’ve carried the weight of the world for as long as you can remember. responsibility, expectations, pressure—they’ve followed you everywhere, whispering that you’ll never be enough unless you succeed. but the truth is, your worth isn’t tied to your achievements. you don’t have to climb every mountain to prove you belong. you’re already worthy, just as you are. let yourself rest. let yourself breathe. you’ve earned it.

★ chiron in the 11th house ★ you’ve always felt like an outsider, haven’t you? like no matter where you go, you don’t quite belong. you long for connection, but you’ve been hurt before, so you keep people at a distance. you deserve to be loved for who you are, exactly as you are. your tribe is out there, waiting for you to find them. but first, you have to believe you’re worthy of being part of something bigger.

★ chiron in aquarius ★ you’ve always felt a little out of place, haven’t you? like no matter where you go, you don’t quite belong. people may admire your uniqueness, but you wonder if they’ll ever truly accept you for who you are. you’ve tried to blend in, but it only made you feel more invisible. your healing comes when you stop trying to fit in and start embracing the beautiful, one-of-a-kind soul you’ve always been. your tribe will find you when you show up as yourself.

★ chiron in the 12th house ★ your pain is quiet, almost invisible. it lives in the shadows, buried so deep that even you can’t always find it. you’ve spent your life carrying wounds you didn’t deserve, and sometimes it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. but you’re not alone, even when it feels like you are. your healing is in the light, in letting yourself be seen, even by yourself.

★ chiron in pisces ★ you’ve felt everything so deeply, haven’t you? the pain of the world, the heartbreak of those you love, the ache of wounds that aren’t even yours to carry. sometimes, it feels like drowning, like you’ll never come up for air. but your sensitivity is your strength—it’s what makes you a healer, a dreamer, a creator of worlds. just remember: you don’t have to save everyone. sometimes, the one who needs saving is you.

[buckyalpine]

Imagine feeling needy and sad when Bucky pays more attention to your very round, pregnant tummy instead of you. I mean he doesn't actually. You're his entire world and you come first no matter what but currently, you feel like the little super soldier you're carrying is getting much more love than you.

"How's my little plum" Bucky cooed, peppering kisses all over your tummy, snuggling against your skin after coming back from a mission. 2 weeks had never felt longer and you were craving your husband more than ever. As soon as you heard the rumble of the jet, you waddled from your room as best as you could, panting out of breath by the time you reached the living room.

You couldn't wait to have your Bucky safe in your arms again, giggling at the way he tossed his bag and jacket to the side haphazardly, running straight to you. You braced yourself for an attack and flurry of hugs and kisses he always greeted you with but it never came.

You squeaked as he picked you up and set you on the couch, lifting your shirt up to curl up with your belly, sighing contently as his scruffy cheek pressed against your warm skin. You brought your hand down to play with his soft cropped hair, longing to feel his arms hold you, his warm lips all over your face, his sweet words of how much he missed you and how happy he was to be back home with you again. Instead, the tiny soldier in your belly was hogging up all the time with his daddy.

Of course it was ridiculous. You knew Bucky loved you more than anything else in the world; he doted on you all the time, you were the most precious thing in this life. He adored you more than ever, worshipping your every being and ever since you'd told him he was going to be a father, he'd fallen in love with you more. You were giving him the family he dreamed of with his dream girl, you trusted him, you were carrying his little baby.

You will always be everything to him.

Yet you couldn't help but feel a little left out of the welcome party, your throat feeling tight, eyes starting to fill with tears. You missed him soo much and he was still busy nuzzling into your tummy, but not busy enough to miss the whimper that slipped past your lips.

"Baby?" Bucky's head shot up as soon as he heard what sounded like a cry but it couldn't be. His eyes filled with worry when he saw your sweet fallen face, indeed crying and poorly hiding it. "Why are you crying angel, what happened, is everything okay?"

His mind started to run a hundred miles a minute, ready to swoop you away to the med wing when shook your head, another wave of tears pooling when he reached out to wipe your cheeks.

"It's silly" You shrug with a sniffle but Bucky isn't having it.

"Tell me what's wrong baby" his baby blues pled with you, waiting to fix what was wrong because why was his perfect angel sad.

"I didn't get a hello kiss" You say with a pout and Bucky found himself stuck between wanting to cry and loving you more.

"I'm sorry, mama" Bucky coos, scooping you right up into his arms, cupping your cheek and placing a kiss onto your nose. Then your forehead. "M'sorry" He places a gently kiss to your still pouted lips, repeatedly peppering kisses till he hears you giggle. "You deserve all the hello kisses angel"

"I thought you didn't miss me" You whisper with your face pressed against his neck, breathing in his scent, all the anxiety you felt with him gone washing away in an instant.

"I missed you more than you know, baby" His lips move against your hair, "How could I not miss the pretty girl I fell so in love with, you're it for me"

He kept you in his arms, his hand slipping up your shirt to rub your back, the simple action nearly lulling you to sleep. He picks you up with ease, deciding to run a bath because he doesn't want to be away from your side for another minute and he keeps himself glued to you the entire time. Your back is against his chest, his hands coming up to massage your tense shoulders, kissing down your neck. He doesn't let go when it's time to rinse off, standing with both hands over your tummy as the hot water cascades over you both. He gets you dried off with a nice fluff towel before taking you to bed to sleep, frowning when you shuffled around in discomfort.

"I think your little plum misses you" You giggled between a squeak as baby Bucky kicked in your tummy, refusing to sleep until he heard his daddy's voice say goodnight. You gave him a pointed look as Bucky grinned, shimmying down the bed to rest between your legs at eyelevel with your belly. "Come talk to your son please"

"Quit kicking your ma" Bucky whispered, his metal hand patting the area where his baby boys tiny feet caused a ruckus, "time to let mommy rest, plum"

"Unbelievable" you huffed as the kicking stopped immediately, your little one settling contently while you also got comfortable against Bucky's chest. "So in love with his daddy"

"He gets it from you" Bucky smiled down at your content form, already half asleep, snug in his arms, "Pretty angel"

[rxmye]

" 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 "

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄!𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — pristine and perfect, filled with grace and elegance, yet tainted with greed . . greed for you . .

gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / slight religious themes?, I suppose it's a fictional religion, I'm still world-building / pathetic and submissive yandere / suggestive content? / he paints the reader as a source of comfort / stalking, which is conveniently described as 'adorable' and 'innocent' behavior /

masterlist | requesting rules | character info . . . a/n: ok so the person mentioned is supposed to be the God of this world, their introduction will also be out soon enough . . currently dropping hints here because world-building fun!!

Takamoto was an Arch-angel, one of the highest ranked angels in heaven—he was pure and truly the definition of elegance, he was never greedy, and he was almost always seen smiling or happy. For he, was truly contempt with his life, and position.

Takamoto was always someone who had truly been satisfied with all that he was given, he never craved more—he always thought and frankly believed, that he had received all that he deserved and that he should be contempt with what he has. He never really had any passion or desire for anything more—he was grateful with everything—he believed all his hardships had reasoning behind it, and that it will all eventually be solved. In fact a part of him believed he deserved any hardship he came by.

Many would believe he was naive for that sort of mindset, and many angels did truly believe him to be just that, yet against all odds he rose up the ranks fairly quickly for this sort of mindset, and of course his loyalty to his beliefs. Takamoto was sweet, he'd help everyone out, and would introduce new souls, and angels throughout the lands of heaven on his free time, he'd help guide souls and his fellow angels everywhere he could . . yet things slowly changed when he first met you . .

Takamoto was visiting, what could only be described as the countryside of heaven, with vast green fields, cozy homes, acres of farmland, etc . . He was checking in for this years harvest, as per high courts orders . . when he saw you, you were so graceful, your wings sparkled in the light, you were radiant, you're eyes glimmered as both of your eyes met for a brief moment . . he felt his heart skip a beat. . his face was heating up slightly, his face dusted with shades of bright pink.

His mouth hung slightly open, as his gaze lingered on you figure, taking in the sight—your wings were lovely, much smaller than his . . were you a new soul? Perhaps you were a lower ranked angel and hence why you both never quite met . . He wanted to know more about you—he need to know more about you—where were you going? . . . and before he knew it, he found himself following you, trailing behind you silently.

He found himself frequenting areas he last saw you, it was all so innocent at first, many of his fellow coworkers described him as a young schoolboy in love, teasing him for his oh so adorable behavior . .

Takamoto didn't notice how much you were invading his life, he hadn't even been able to hold a proper sentence with you yet . . . but even then his thoughts consumed of you, whenever he did paperwork, he'd doodle your face, his room was filled with various portraits of you . .

He found himself overtime growing desperate, impure thoughts flooding his mind, greed sinking its claws into his sensitive and naive hurt—he was the utter picture of perfection, just look at him, he was everything an angel . . a human, anyone should be!?!? Why aren't you looking his way!— . . he took deep breaths, his own fingers digging into his skin, as he tried calming himself.

Gold drips from his arm, the bruise left from his fingers still fresh—golden blood stained his pretty pale fingers—pupils dilating as he took deep breaths, a ruined portrait of your face on the aisle, paint splatters surrounded him, tainting his legs, as a mirror lay broken on the floor.

"Fuck", he cussed softly, tears threatening to spill, his usually well-kept hair was a mess . . "why can't I draw them . . ?", he asked, his voice hoarse, as he tried his best to contain the anger he felt at that moment, "why can't I fucking draw them??", his nails dig into the floor, as the door creaked open.

You need to love him, you need to see him. He had never craved someone's validation, he deserved this, he deserved you! He could offer you everything, he was perfect! Everyone he knows, envied that about him . . surely you'd notice, you have too . .

He turned to face the person at the door, tears now dripping down his cheek, he mumbled something under his breath, before he started begging, "Please, please, help me . . my lord"

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[thinkinonsense]

ok so i had a thought😏😏 dbf!logan takes ur virginity and from then on u guys hook up whenever u get a chance (all the time). one night he gets done dicking u DOWN and u say u love him and he’s all like “we can’t do this anymore kid” very ANGSTYYY

i love you, i'm sorry- dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part two *mdni

"i love you, logan."

four little words that would send your world crumbling before your feet. the older man lifts himself from in between your chest, both of you panting post orgasm. nights like this had become a bad habit for the both of you.

from the moment logan first slipped off your panties in this exact spot a year ago, you had been wanting to tell him how you really felt. you wanted to tell him how you craved his touch when he wasn't around, how you adored the way he took care of you and most importantly, how this didn't feel 'casual' to you anymore.

seconds turned into minutes of silence, desperately waiting for logan to say something; anything.

"lo, are you going to say some-"

"we can't see each other anymore, kid." he says, avoiding eye contact with you as he pulls out.

"what?"

this wasn't real. that's the only sentence that your brain could form as you watch him put his boxers back on. you laid there on his bed, naked, vulnerable, with his cum dripping out of you and he can't even look you in your fucking eyes.

"ya' heard me." logan says, putting a cigar in his mouth and tossing your dress on the bed next to you.

"what happened?" your voice was trembling on the verge of rage and heartbreak.

"i told you a year ago not to bring that 'love shit' in here."

a year ago when he took your virginity. he promised to be gentle and to care for you. guess that didn't extend past sex for him.

you scoff, pulling your sundress over your head. "you didn't say that when you said you love how tight i fit around you or when you said you love how well i know you. was any of that even true?"

logan ignored you as he lit his cigar and waited for you to leave. you stand up and walk over to him, touching his chin and turning to so he's facing you.

"look me in the eyes when you kick me out of your bed." you spit angrily at the man you adored endlessly.

all logan could see was your eyes full of tears and your red puffy lips, trying to keep yourself together. deep down, he knew he deserved all the shit in the world thrown at him for him for breaking your heart. you would never understand why he had to be so cruel but his intentions were never to hurt you like this. it killed him.

"find someone your own age to love, kid." logan says, twisting the knife.

"don't call me kid, logan!" you yell at him. "i'm not a fucking child!"

"then stop acting like one!" his voice boomed back at you, spurring on more tears.

who had he turned into? you couldn't recognize the man in front of you. this wasn't your logan.

"so, you're just going to let me leave like this?" you cry, glaring at him. "give up everything we have all because you're afraid of me loving you?"

you didn't expect an answer, he already shoved your hand away from his face, no longer wanting the image of your broken heart haunting him.

logan wanted to tell you everything, explain why he can't accept your love because it will put you at a greater risks, but logically, logan knows he has to let you go.

"in ten years, when your ass is still sitting drunk on one of my fathers bar stools and he shows you photos of me and a man who can appreciate me for more than sex, a man who can admit he loves me back, you'll remember this moment because this will be the last time you ever fucking see me." you tell him rather calmly as you collect your shoes and purse.

logan watches you do as he asks and leave. if he was a better man, he would have done it differently; but then again, if he was a better man, he never would've fooled around with a twenty-something year old.

the front door slams with a broken sob escaping your lips. from the bedroom, logan could hear your car engine starting and that's when he could allow himself to grieve the life he would've had.

[skys-archive]

I think in honor of pride month and also in general forever we should stop trying fit queer people into the identities we think they should call themselves.

And I know no one is going to see this because no one ever does but I'm going to talk about it anyway because this is important.

Bisexual doesn't mean you don't date trans people, it doesn't mean you like men and women, it doesn't mean you can't have a preference. Someone can identify as polysexual or bisexual or omnisexual and have no preference and you don't get to say that that means they're pansexual. Because no, if they don't identify as pansexual then they're not pansexual.

Transmasc doesn't mean you use he/him pronouns. It doesn't mean you identify as a man. Transfem doesn't mean you use she/her pronouns. It doesn't mean you identify as a woman. You can be nonbinary or genderqueer or agender or any gender that isn't binary and not use they/them pronouns. You can use any of those labels and still identify as a man or a woman. You can use different pronouns than is typically used for your birth sex and not consider yourself transgender. People can be gender non conforming and not he trans. People can be trans and not gender non conforming.

A trans man can be fem. A trans woman can be masc. Nonbinary people don't owe you androgyny. Intersex people don't owe you androgyny. Intersex people are people, they deserve way more attention than a way to one up transphobes. Intersex people face discrimination and body altering surgeries without their consent and then are only ever talked about to say "some cis women have penises" or "some people have an extra x chromosome" and then we never talk about the struggle they face as part of the queer community.

Asexuality and aromanticism is a spectrum. Some aces like sex, some aces are repulsed, some aces only experience sexual attraction to one person or once in their life, some aces need a deep emotional bond, some aces their attraction changes. Some aros change identities. Some aros are repulsed by romance unless it's a fictional character. Some aros have romantic feelings until they get to know someone. Some aros crave a romantic relationship but never have romantic feelings. You don't get to say someone isn't asexual or aromantic enough.

Asexuality and aromanticism is having a unique relationship with romance or sexual feelings and impulses. Someone who is transgender has a unique experience with gender. You don't get to decide that they don't have a unique experience. But guess what? You don't get to decide if they do either. Someone can have a unique experience and still not identify as asexual aromantic or transgender. You can cross dress and still fully feel like a man. You can use he/him pronouns as a cis women. You can have trauma around sex and not identify as asexual. You can never have a romantic relationship and not identify as aromantic.

You can have "contradicting" labels. I don't know as many of these because I don't personally identify as any but please fell welcome to add in reblogs. There are trans men lesbians and gay women. There are sex loving asexuals. I know there are others I just genuinely am not educated enough.

YOU DONT GET TO CHOOSE SOMEONES LABELS

ANYONE CAN EITHER IDENTIFY OR NOT IDENTIFY AS QUEER

Please feel welcome to add anything in reblogs. I'm sure there's things I've missed. I haven't talked about neopronouns I haven't talked enough about "contradicting" labels. I haven't talked about queer platonic relationships or kink or polyamory or enough about intersex people or pronouns vs gender. There's so much important things but at the end of the day it's just so important to not choose other people's labels.

[mythblossoms]

to come home

pairing: zayne x gn!reader

content: fluff and comfort, soft yearning, kissing, suggestive if you squint?, lighthearted, established relationship, unedited

a/n: i just think zayne deserves a quiet life where he can be the little spoon ♡ coming back to writing after so long is scary but hi ♡

wc: 1.1k

It’s 11:01, the harsh blue glow of his computer screen illuminates his office, and Zayne is thinking of the comfort of home. 

Not the physical structure - all concrete and glass, hard walls enclosed around structured spaces that begged for routine, but the warmth that often resided within.

You, curled up on the couch, book in hand and eyes slowly skimming through the words. You, perched on the counter top, sipping a sweet latte and sighing contently. You, watering the plants on his windowsill and whispering little words of encouragement. You, a warm sun that cast light into every room you stepped into, leaving the space a little darker, colder when you left. 

It’s 11:05, as Zayne stares at the remnants of a hazelnut latte sitting on the corner of his desk - delivered to him by you several hours earlier. A drawing of a little snowman poking its head over the sleeve of the cup. A small dose of warmth in an otherwise blurry day. He missed you. Not that you hadn’t seen each other, but this was different. Rushed, fleeting moments existed — small, sweet treats that left behind a craving. Truthfully, he didn’t think he could ever be fully satisfied, not when the treat was gone but the sweetness still lingered on his tongue.

It’s 11:15, and the soft ping of his phone is notifying him of messages from you with hidden notes tucked tenderly between the letters.

- ping

Have you eaten yet? (I miss you, take care of yourself)

- ping

Let me know when you’re on your way! (I care about you, please come back safely)

He had grown accustomed to these secret words and meanings interwoven into the space that was you and him. With each message, his heart ached a bit more. 

It’s 11:27, and the lights of Zayne’s office are off. A cup with a snowman drawing is gently placed in a waste bin. His bag and coat are missing from the coat rack by the door and he’s driving to his home. 

It’s interesting how home can be anything. Home can be a house, the things gathered to create a space that belongs to the person living there. It can be a family or a person, the people who hold the hearts of their loved ones close. How odd that Zayne never thought of home before you. 

Seeing you silhouetted in the ambient light, his cardigan draped on your figure - too big in the shoulders, too long for your frame - the smell of mint tea hanging in the air — this is what it meant to be home. His heart swelled as you turned, that bright smile welcoming him home. 

“I see someone has found a sweater to their liking.” 

“Yep,” you quipped, hugging the cardigan closer to your body. “I think it likes me more than its current owner. It wants to live with its friends back in my closet.” 

Zayne smiled slightly, stepping into the warm kitchen as you placed two mugs on the counter. “Is that so? Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep it from its true desire.” 

His arms circled around your waist, pulling you back securely against him. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck - settling into the warmth and pressing one soft kiss onto the collarbone peeking out from the collar of the cardigan. A contented sigh leaving your lips as you leaned into him, cupping the warm mug in your hands. 

“Thank you for this,” he murmured, attempting to stitch every unspoken feeling along those four words. ‘Can we stay like this a little longer?’ ‘I want to be with you - always.’ ‘You’re home to me.’ You had a way of weaving these declarations tenderly into your actions and words. Zayne hoped, by closing his eyes, by holding you closer, these unsaid words would flow to you. 

Gently, you turned in his arm to face him, one hand still clasped around your mug. You gazed up at him, placing your other hand on his chest, feeling the warmth there. “I’m glad you’re home,” you whispered. No hidden meanings - stated so honestly as you smiled. 

Zayne took the mug from your hand, setting it on the counter behind you, and dropped his forehead to yours. “If I can be a bit…selfish,” he breathed, ghosting his lips over yours. “There’s one more thing I would ask for.” His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks, and guided your lips to his. Slowly, his lips moved against yours. His hands, cool on your warm face, moved down your shoulders, dipping underneath the oversized cardigan and caressing your waist. Each movement intentional, as if his fingers had memorized the curve of your body - the feeling of you under his hands grounding him. 

Again, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing slowly as he released the kiss. His eyes locked on yours, dazed, as his hands tightly held your waist. Words were no longer needed, every movement proclaiming every feeling Zayne had tried to contain. He leaned down to grasp your waist, lifting you onto the counter. 

“Oh-”, you mumbled as you felt the cup behind you. “Your tea!” 

“Tea,” he said, pressing another kiss to your jaw, “can wait. Right now - I just need you.” His voice was soft as he slowly trailed his lips up your jawline, punctuating each sentence with a light kiss. 

Zayne was always so patient, quiet in a collected way. Need was a new word - and your heart ached as his hands pressed in your lower back. Your arms found their way up around his neck, running your fingers up and through his hair. “I’m here,” you whispered, pressing light kisses up his jawline to the shell of his ear. “You have me.” 

Zayne took a deep, controlled breath as he ran his hands up your spine, fingers tracing the arch of your back. “I like it when you’re here,” he murmured. His lips found yours again, savoring the way they melded together — relishing in the small sounds you made as he deepened the kiss and held you as though you were keeping him afloat. 

He hesitated again, his eyes still closed and hands still pressed against your back. “It would be even better, if you were here all the time.” He chanced a look at you then, barely opening his eyes. 

And you were smiling at him, pulling him closer still and cupping his face in your hands. “Is this your subtle way of asking if I would like to move in?” Your lips, still pink from the previous kisses, pressed one small kiss to the tip of his nose - an unspoken answer of ‘I want to be with you all the time too.’

Zayne looked down, the corners of his mouth slightly turning up. “How else will I retrieve all my missing sweaters?” He hooked his hands under your thighs, lifting you off the counter. “I think I’ll start with this one.” 

Your warm laughter filled the air as he carried you to his room, the mint teas left to cool on the counter.

[ill0usainte]

LADS Men as cigarettes after sex songs.

Angst/comfort

Zayne - cry

"It's making you cry every time

You give your love to me this way

Saying you'd wait for me to stay"

Zayne sat in his car, staring at the apartment building in front of him, his chest heavy with guilt. The night had been long at the hospital, and his mind was tired, but his heart... his heart was exhausted from the same endless cycle.

Every time he came home late, he’d find you there, waiting-- sitting alone in the living room, curled up on the couch, your eyes closed, as if you were trying to force yourself to sleep and forget that he wasn’t there.

You didn’t say anything. You never did. But he could see the emptiness in your eyes, feel the distance growing between both of you, even if you never voiced it.

You had stopped asking where he was or why he couldn’t make time for you. You understood, you always did-- he knew that. But what hurt was that, despite understanding, you were still hurting.

Still feeling like he was slipping away, like he couldn’t be the man you wanted him to be.

And the worst part was, he does love you. He loved you more than he could ever express, but he didn’t know how to say it. He didn’t know how to show you the depth of what he felt without feeling vulnerable, without feeling like he might mess it all up.

He knew you thought he didn’t trust you, that he didn’t love you the way you deserved. You overthought everything-- every silence, every moment when he pulled away, when he couldn’t find the words to express what he felt.

It made you question yourself, made you wonder if you were enough. And that broke him. He could see it in your face, the way your eyes would flicker with doubt whenever he didn’t say the right thing, whenever he didn’t act the way you thought he would.

He could hear you crying softly in your shared bedroom, and it twisted something inside him, because he knew why you were crying.

It was because of him.

It was because he couldn’t find a way to be what you deserve, to give you the affection you craved.

He walked inside quietly, trying not to disturb you as he found you, once again, asleep on the couch. Your face was peaceful in sleep, but the emptiness lingered in the room.

You were waiting for him. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, knowing that he was the cause of your pain, knowing that despite everything he did for you, he still couldn’t be the man who could open up fully.

He wanted to tell you. He wanted to show you how much he loved you, how deep his feelings ran. But every time he tried, the words got stuck in his throat, and the walls he had built around himself grew higher.

He hated himself for it, for making you feel like you weren't enough when all you ever did was love him with everything you had.

Zayne crouched beside the couch and watched you sleep, his fingers brushing the soft strands of your hair. You looked so peaceful, so trusting, and it tore him apart knowing he was the one breaking your heart. But he didn’t know how to fix it.

He didn’t know how to be the man who could open up without fear, who could say the words that seemed to be trapped inside.

As he sat there, watching you sleep, the quiet ache in his chest only deepened. He didn’t want you to feel empty. He didn’t want you to feel like you aren't loved. He just didn’t know how to show you the love he carried for you.

Because it was there, always there, buried under layers of fear, of old scars, of unspoken words.

And he knew it was eating you alive.

It's fine, you understand him.

Maybe in another life you would be the girl that is worth it to change his self for....

But not this lifetime.

Sylus - sunsetz

"And when you go away

I still see you

The sunlight on your face in my rearview

When you go away

I still see you"

Sylus sat in the quiet, the absence of yours is like a weight pressing on his chest. It wasn’t just the empty space beside him-- it was the space in his heart that felt hollow now, because you were gone.

He had pushed you away, again and again, every time you tried to show him love. It wasn’t that he didn’t love you, he did, more than he could even express, but he was afraid. Afraid that if he let you in completely, if he allowed himself to be vulnerable, he’d end up hurting you.

The memories kept flooding in-- the "sweet days" when everything felt right. Your laugh, the way you’d reach for him like you didn’t want to let go. Your touch, your quiet support, your warmth.

Every time you’d try to get close, to show him affection, he’d pull away, convincing himself that it was for your own good.

But now, with you gone, he realized how wrong he’d been.

Every time he pushed you away, a little part of him died inside.

He told himself it was to protect you, but all he’d done was shut you out when you just wanted to love him.

Now, the memories felt like a cruel reminder. Visions of your face, your smile, your gentle hands in his. He could still feel your presence in his mind, but it wasn’t enough. He would never get those moments back.

He was left with nothing but the regret of not opening up, not letting himself love you the way you deserved.

He could still hear your voice in his head, the softness of your words, the quiet moments both of you shared. But now it was too late.

He had lost you.

He had been too scared to let you in, and now, without you, everything felt like it was falling apart.

Sylus closed his eyes, swallowing the pain. He couldn’t stop thinking about how things could’ve been if he had just let go of his fear. If he had been brave enough to love you without holding back. But now, all he had were these memories, these “visions” of a life he pushed away.

And he wasn’t sure if he’d ever forgive himself for it.

Maybe in another lifetime, he can love you freely without fear.

Rafayel - sweet

"It's so sweet, knowing that you love me

Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet

Knowing that I love you, and running my fingers through your hair

It's so sweet"

Rafayel lay awake at night, the soft rhythm of your breathing beside him the only thing grounding him in the moment. Everything about you was so pure, so effortless. You loved him. He could feel it in the way you looked at him, in the gentle touch of your hand on his arm, in the way you laughed at his stupid jokes.

There was no guessing, no overthinking-- just your love, simple and constant. He didn’t have to question it, didn’t have to wonder if you really meant it. It was just there, woven into every moment you both shared.

But as sweet as it was, it also hurt. He had never known love like this before-- uncomplicated, unwavering, and real. And for all the beauty of it, there was a part of him that couldn’t believe it. He didn’t deserve it. Not after everything he’d been through, all the mistakes he’d made, the ways he felt like he wasn’t enough.

How could someone as incredible as you love him so deeply, so completely, without hesitation?

He watched you sleep, your face soft and peaceful, and a pang of guilt hit him in his chest. You deserved someone who could give you everything, someone who was certain, someone who didn’t doubt himself at every turn.

But here he was, holding your hand, feeling your love surround him-- and all he could think was, I don’t deserve this.

It was almost too good to be true. He would lie in bed next to you, fingers intertwined, and feel his heart swell with love, but also with this ache, this nagging voice in his head telling him that he was going to mess it up.

He didn’t know how to accept your love fully, because the part of him that had been bruised too many times couldn’t believe that something so pure could really be his.

And yet, there you was, always patient, always kind, showing him that love wasn’t about perfection-- it was about trust, about giving without expecting anything in return. You loved him without asking for anything more than what he could give. And that was both the sweetest and the most terrifying thing he had ever known.

It was beautiful. It was everything he had ever wanted. But it was also a quiet storm inside him, because every day he had to remind himself that you aren’t going to leave, that your love wasn’t just a fleeting thing, and that you wanted him-- exactly as he was. That you didn’t want him to be anyone else.

But sometimes, in the stillness of the night, Rafayel would lie there and wonder if you really knew what you were giving him, how much he could never repay you for, how much he didn’t deserve.

And yet, every time he saw the love in your eyes, he couldn’t help but wish that he could be the man who could finally believe in his own worth, if only to truly deserve you.

Every lifetime, Rafayel always doubts his worth for your love.

But always remember, he will always love you no matter what.

Xavier - heavenly

"Tell me it's love, tell me it's real

Touch me with a kiss, feel me on your lips

Because this is where I want to be

Where it's so sweet and heavenly"

Xavier stood by the window, staring out at the night, but his thoughts were consumed by you. He feels your presence, your warmth lingering in the air even when you weren't around.

The love he had for you was unlike anything he had ever known. It was overwhelming, a beauty that both filled him with a sense of heaven and yet made his chest ache. You were everything-- everything he had ever dreamed of, and more than he ever thought he deserved.

When you came into his life, it was like the world shifted. It was like the weight of his past, all the scars and mistakes, had melted away, replaced by a lightness, a peace he hadn’t known before.

You made him feel seen, made him feel worthy in ways he never thought possible. You loved him without question, without hesitation, and in return, all he wanted was to give you everything.

To show you that he was capable of loving you the way you deserved. To give you a love that was as pure and as beautiful as you are.

But as much as he loves you, he was afraid. Afraid that he wasn’t enough. Afraid that his flaws, his insecurities, would eventually push you away.

He wanted to be the man who could make your dreams come true, who could hold you, cherish you, and give you all that you deserved. But sometimes, when he sees you smile, when he felt the depth of what you gave him, he wondered if he was capable of giving it all back.

He wasn’t perfect, and the fear of not being enough for you crept in, making his love feel like a bittersweet thing.

He watched you, sometimes, lost in the way you existed so beautifully in his world, and it made him feel both the highest of highs and the heaviest of lows. He wanted to be your everything, to be the one you turned to, the one who could make you feel as cherished as you made him feel.

But deep down, Xavier couldn’t shake the thought that maybe-- just maybe-- he wasn’t worthy of such an overwhelming, perfect love.

And that, more than anything, hurt the most.

It might be like that, but he always finds a way to give you love in every lifetime.

Caleb - nothing's gonna hurt you baby

"Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine

Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby

Nothing's gonna take you from my side"

Caleb sat by the bed, his gaze distant, lost in the memories of years spent with you. The promise he made to you as a child-- those words, those promises-- still echoed in his heart.

“I’ll always protect you. I’ll be the one who loves you, and no one else will.”

He had been so sure of it back then, a child’s innocent certainty, but now as an adult, the weight of that promise felt heavier than ever.

He had always been there for you, standing beside you through every phase of life-- through the good days, through the hard ones. Both of you had shared so many sweet times together, laughter and love woven into the fabric of your relationship.

He had watched you grow, seen your strength, your beauty, and yet, no matter how much you blossomed, he couldn’t shake the fierce need to protect you.

He loved you deeply-- more deeply than he could ever explain. It was the kind of love that wasn’t just about the happy moments; it was about the quiet ones too. The ones where he would sit beside you, knowing that just being there was enough.

But the more he loved you, the more he feared. Life had a way of throwing storms at you, and he wasn’t sure he could always shield you from them. He couldn’t control everything-- couldn’t stop every pain from reaching you.

But he swore, as he had all those years ago, that he would try. He would do whatever it took to make sure you are safe.

The thought of you being hurt, in any way, made his heart ache.

It wasn’t just about physical protection-- it was the emotional pain too, the world that could sometimes feel so cruel. He had promised to be the one to love you, the one who would guard your heart, but the truth was, he was afraid.

Afraid that one day, he wouldn’t be enough. That his love and his promise wouldn’t be enough to protect you from everything life might throw your way.

But as long as you are there, he would keep fighting, keep standing by your side, and keep loving you with everything he had. He knew it wasn’t enough to erase the pain you might face, but it was all he had.

And as long as you would let him, he would be the one to love you, to protect you, to fight for you in every way possible-- because you deserved nothing less.

And deep down, Caleb knew he couldn’t live with the thought of anything bad happening to you.

He had promised as a child, and now, as a man, he would keep that promise--no matter what.

He will always fight for your love in every lifetime.

I was actually listening to these songs listed here while writing this. And yes, I did cry.

++first time writing angst, be nice >:(((