#who needs sleep when cuddles are on the table?

[rawme-price]

Gaz insists he only needs 4 hours of sleep until he meets you. He just feels...safe. with you.

Years of military service and every type of trauma you could think of, heaped ontop of the guy whos known for being the normal one of the group? Yeah, hes got some anxiety induced sleep problems. When you two first get together, hes awake when you lay down to sleep and well before you wake up. But as the months pass he sleeps longer and longer, and each day he wakes up cuddles in your arms just feels a bit safer.

Suddenly hes napping all the time, as if to catch up on all the dreams lost. On the couch, at the table, while watching a movie. He just leans over and tucks his face into ur neck with a content hum, ears pressed right against your pulse. Ofc you let him sleep as long as he needs, nothing you have planned could be more important than ur beloveds rest after so many wary years. On one occasion you sat by the lake for five hours because he fell asleep while birdwatching with you.

He finds safety in you, a sort of calm that holds off the tides of war ridden anxiety. Kyle feels normal with you, like the war cant touch you when ur together.

Which makes it all the worse when he comes home to smashed windows and blood on the floor, you nowhere to be seen.

[rooksamoris]

AFTERCARE THOUGHTS !!

💞 — some quick thoughts on aftercare with them. 💞 — featuring!! leona kingscholar, rook hunt, lilia vanrouge, mozus trein, dire crowley. 💞 — completely gender and sex neutral. warnings: some cursing, mentions of sex, quickies, depression, dire crowley. reader is an adult obvi. around 140 words each.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

🩷 — Honestly, sex is a lot of energy, physically and emotionally. He keeps water at the bedside table, and he’ll help you get comfortable, wiping you both down, but he is in no mood to get up and prepare a bath and everything. If you like to sleep clothed, which he does not completely get, he’ll tug you some boxers and a top from his drawer and help you into it, but even then his movements are quite sluggish. The most he wants to do is cuddle. He's feeling a little vulnerable, but he won't outright say it. He practically melts when you run your fingers through his hair, muttering promises about how he'll do more in the morning. With his depression, fatigue and sleepiness comes very easily, and sex is just a big exertion of all sorts of energy. 

ROOK HUNT.

🩷 — Not just saying this because I am a Rook fucker, but I genuinely think sex with him is a very sweet and romantic affair, and that translates over into his aftercare. Even after you guys finish the deed, he's ecstatic. He promises to show you a very comforting time, drawing a bath with fancy salts and rose petals. He's waxing poetic to you about what a good job you did taking him, and how he cannot wait to spend many more nights like this with you. Rook insists upon carrying you to the bath, and once you're both in there, he's completely stuck to you, cleaning you up and massaging your hips where he gripped a bit harshly. His heart is overflowing when he feels you tracing the scratches you left on his biceps or the bites you left on his neck.

LILIA VANROUGE.

🩷 — Fucking Lilia needs aftercare and he knows it. He's a certified freak, seven days a week, and that means he's trying everything with you, so long as it is within your comfort zone. That being said, he is a tease and he's poking fun at you right afterwards (as if his lower back isn't aching too). He asks if you enjoyed it, and you just mumble something incoherent, and he's giggling. He’s really great with aftercare. He’s reassuring you and helping clean you up. Drink the water, don’t eat the soup he offers you. Lilia will offer to draw a bath for you, but if you’re too exhausted, he gets it. He makes jokes about how he still gots it in him while he massages the sore parts of your body. Return the favor! He is ecstatic when you offer to rub his back. 

MOZUS TREIN. 

🩷 — Mozus is rigid about academic rules, and based on his comments about physical media versus the internet, we can assume he is quite the old-fashioned gentleman. He knows he’s not as spry as he used to be, so he tends to prepare in advance if you guys are going to sleep together. He takes a moment to collect himself before getting up to draw the bath. If you help him, he will assure you that he’s got it, but if you’re stubborn and insist, he will eventually fold. Overall, he is impressed by your politeness. He’s nearly sixty, and despite how much he wants to take most of the charge, he knows his limits and can eventually be convinced to let you help out. After your first time, you both learn and fall into a more mutually helpful aftercare routine.

DIRE CROWLEY. 

🩷 — Lovingly, aftercare is not his forte. I imagine it is quite awkward, he is still stupified by his orgasm and all. He probably just lays there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling before he clears his throat and thanks you? Whip him into shape or something. If you ask him to get water, he’ll oblige because he wanted some too, muttering about his benevolence like he’s the deity who gifted fire to humanity. Afterwards, he knocks out and clings to you. It’s even worse if you guys were just having a quickie in his office or whatever other “hiding spot” he took you to. He’ll just adjust your clothes and squeeze your shoulder with a single word of praise that sounds like something a teacher would write on a well-done test. He’s not very good with aftercare.

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

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[chiara-hotel]

Taking care of them While Their Sick Characters: The Herta, Anaxagoras, Dr Ratio & Phainon Prompt: reader taking care of ill herta, anaxa, ratio please?

☆ The Herta will do whatever you say in this time

☆ Although she has a million Herta puppets that can help you get whatever she needs, medicine? Herta's fetching it for you! But Herta will still give it to you so that you can give it to the herta (or spoon-feed it to her)

☆ Make her soup, she loves eating soup when sick, especially if its a home-cooked meal

☆ The Herta's top priority is obviously healing herself. She can't do her normal activities while being sick, even she knows not to try it

☆ Not to mention if she's experimenting, her sneezing can be a horrible control variable, which she wouldn't want to affect the lab; therefore, she must become healthy as soon as possible

☆ Anaxagoras is mildly annoyed at the situation, if only things went the way he planned

☆ He'd love for you to take care of him, though. I suppose this is an excuse to spend all day with you, he'll even cancel his lectures! He can't teach a class while sick, right?

☆ Most of the day, he'll be mad at himself, or even the gods for making him sick; it's an inconvenience to him

☆ He'll probably try to do many things by himself (such as cooking or getting medicine), but you'll have to tell him to rest

☆ Only after will he head back to his room, probably reading a book while you prepare a meal for him

☆ Out of everyone here, Ratio is the one who tries to push himself the most. He's fine, or so he says

☆ It'll be your responsibility to keep him in his bed and resting for the day, or else he'll sneak off to his lab

☆ While he enjoys your company, he might complain about deadlines and such that he has to get done

☆ One way to get him to stay is by staying with him all throughout his sickness, so that he can't sneak off. If you're up for cuddling, he'll love that

☆ Also, he expects you to be his chef, and if you can't cook, then he expects you to order takeout for the two of you, something you both like

☆ Phainon is the least likely to complain about his sickness; it happens to everyone eventually, right? Plus, now he can sleep all day and have you as his personal chef

☆ Phainon really enjoys your company; he'll pretend that his sickness is bad and is only curable if you stay in bed with him and cuddle him

☆ If you try to refuse cuddles he makes an adorable pouting face that you just can't refuse, and then he'll pull you into the bed slowly

☆ While you make food for him, he'll be sitting by the table, waiting and watching you cook. You tried to get him to stay in his room, but he insisted on eating at the dinner table (he just likes watching you cook)

[formulafanfics13]

could u do a height difference fic with arthur pleasee

reach for me - Arthur Leclerc

Masterlist

summary: you’ve always been the small one in the relationship, which arthur absolutely adores. from teasing you about cupboard handles to sneaking kisses whenever you pout about needing help, he never misses a chance to remind you how much he loves your height — especially when it means keeping you close.

warnings: height difference (reader is shorter), soft domestic fluff, playful teasing, protective arthur, gentle kisses, cuddling, minor furniture struggles, pure softness

You’d swear the cupboards were getting higher every week.

Not just high, cruel. Insulting. Impossible. Some kind of personal attack designed by sadistic interior designers who thought everyone was at least six foot.

You stand on your tiptoes, stretch your fingers out toward the cereal box on the top shelf, and groan when your palm barely brushes the edge.

“I hate this kitchen.”

You say it to no one in particular. But a voice answers from behind you anyway, thick with sleep and very amused. “That’s dramatic. Even for you.”

You spin around to find Arthur in the doorway, hair a mess, hoodie sleeves bunched at his elbows, jaw dusted with morning stubble. He’s grinning.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t say it.”

He raises his eyebrows innocently. “Say what?”

You cross your arms. “I swear, if you make a comment about my height again-”

“I was going to say you look beautiful in my shirt.”

You pause. Glance down. You are, in fact, drowning in one of his old Ferrari Academy T-shirts, the hem brushing your thighs.

Your mouth twitches. “Oh.”

Arthur walks over and leans down to kiss your forehead. “I was also going to say,” he murmurs, “that I love how small you are.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Because I can’t reach the cereal?”

He grabs the box effortlessly and hands it to you with a wink “Because it means you always need me.”

You scoff. “Please. I don’t need you. I just need a stepladder.”

Arthur pulls you against his chest and smirks. “Sure you do, mon ange.”

The morning unfolds slowly. Arthur insists on pouring your cereal for you. You protest. He laughs and does it anyway.

He makes you tea while you sit on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs and trying not to melt every time he smiles at you. You talk about nothing. About everything. The weather in Monaco. The way his schedule is light this week. The fact that your feet don’t touch the floor when you sit at the dining table.

“You need a booster seat,” he teases, lips brushing your neck.

“You need to stop talking,” you mutter, cheeks flushed.

But you’re smiling. Always smiling with him.

Later, when you’re curled up on the sofa with his arms wrapped around you like a blanket, he buries his face in your hair and sighs.“You know what I love most about you?”

You hum against his chest. “My stunning wit and razor-sharp intellect?”

He snorts. “That too.”

You lift your head to look at him.

He brushes a finger down your cheek. “But mostly… that when I hold you, I can wrap around you completely. Like I’m built to protect you. Like I fit.”

You don’t reply. Just tuck your face into his shirt and feel your heart squeeze until it aches.

[ficsbylexi]

Skirts and Sweats — Part 2

Leah Williamson x OFC

Shot warnings: slightly angsty? One of those nothing-is-right mornings that exhausts you.

Author’s note: I need a girlfriend to kiss and cuddle and comfort and reassure and make happy. Also, this is short enough that it could've fit in one part, but like it didn't make sense in my head as a One Shot? idk

Word count: 1804

Summary: Leah has a shitty morning and spirals a little bit.

Leah stirred when she felt the familiar press of lips against her cheek, the faint scent of Charlie’s perfume lingering in the warmth of their shared bed. Half-asleep, she instinctively reached out, fingers brushing against cotton and cool air instead of soft skin.

“Mmh—don’t go,” she murmured, not quite conscious.

A soft giggle, and another kiss. “I have to, babe. Meeting at eight, I gotta be there early tomorrow set everything up. But I love you. I’ll be back after five, okay?”

Leah tried to mumble something back, something like love you too, but she was already slipping under again.

When she woke properly, the flat was silent.

No distant hairdryer hum. No clinking of mugs. No Charlie singing badly along to her morning playlist. Just the aching throb behind Leah’s eyes, the heavy drag of her limbs and the drilling sound of her alarm.

She blinked blearily at the ceiling, groaned, and turned it off while barely looking at it. When she rolled over, she froze.

“Oh, shit…”

The new white sheets. Stained red.

Her period had come early. Or maybe on time. She couldn’t even remember anymore.

Leah sat up slowly, the world tilting slightly around her. Her stomach twisted with discomfort, and her headache pulsed harder now that she was upright. She touched her temples, sighed, and stripped the sheets carefully, guilt settling like a second skin.

Charlie bought those last week. Said they were hotel-soft. Said I’d sleep better wrapped in clouds.

By the time she made it to the shower, she’d dropped her water bottle in the hallway and stubbed her toe on the coffee table. Twice.

She washed slowly, letting the hot water numb her back, and then stood in front of the mirror, her towel barely hanging on, trying to tie her hair back. One, two, snap. Third time, uneven. Fourth, too tight. Fifth, a mess.

“God, why am I like this today?” she muttered, blinking hard at the frustrated sting in her eyes.

She gave up, grabbing a hoodie she couldn’t remember washing and a pair of baggy grey sweats that had seen better days. Her shirt was wrinkled, but it was the only one she didn’t have to dig for after dropping her protein shake on the clean one Charlie had left on her vanity. She tugged it on and stared at herself in the mirror again.

Messy hair. Tired eyes. Slouched shoulders.

Then she remembered Charlie’s face from last night—lit up like it was Christmas morning, hands cupping Leah’s cheeks, whispering, You looked like a magazine cover.

That girl, the one in the England away kit and a skirt, seemed so far away now. This version of her, the one who could barely manage a ponytail, didn’t feel like someone anyone would swoon over.

The ache in her stomach flared again.

She almost texted Charlie, I miss you or can you come home early?, but deleted the message before hitting send. Charlie was probably neck-deep in mock-ups and proofs, balancing coffee in one hand and three print deadlines in the other. GQ didn’t exactly run itself.

Leah grabbed her boots and headed out the door, heavy-footed and even heavier-hearted.

Training had drained what little Leah had left in her. Her muscles ached, her lower back throbbed with dull, relentless cramps, and her head pounded in rhythm with her footsteps as she trudged up the stairs to their flat, because of course the elevator broke down today. The worst part wasn’t even the physical stuff—it was the fact that she had spent most of the day feeling stupid and alone, spinning in her own head with no one to ground her.

She played her girlfriend’s voice note from an hour ago for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes.

“Hi baby. I hope you’re taking it easy today. I’ve been thinking about you non-stop. You’re probably all grumpy and pouty and adorable and I wish I could just wrap you up in my arms right now. I love you. So much. I’ll be home soon and I’m making hot chocolate, whether you want it or not. Kiss.”

Leah clutched her phone tighter, swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat. God, she always knows.

She unlocked the door with shaky hands and stepped into the flat.

The smell of garlic and something warm filled the air, and from the kitchen came the unmistakable clatter of pans and Charlie’s voice, bright as ever.

“Hi, princess!” she called out cheerfully. “I see you got your period today, baby? I already washed the sheets, my love, don’t worry. I’m making you a nice hot chocolate!”

Leah froze in place.

Fuck. I forgot to wash the sheets. I’m so stupid.

Her bag slid from her shoulder with a dull thud, but she didn’t move. She just stood there, a disheveled, wrinkled, puffy-eyed mess, and something inside her cracked wide open.

Charlie turned around when she didn’t hear a reply, and what she saw made her drop the spatula instantly.

“Leah?”

Leah’s bottom lip trembled. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, stepping slowly into the kitchen. “I should’ve washed the sheets myself, and I was just—just having such a bad day, and I dropped everything, and I couldn’t tie my hair right, and I looked at myself in the mirror and I just—” her voice broke. “I look like shit, and I know these are just excuses and—”

Charlie didn’t let her finish.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, baby no.” She crossed the space in three strides and pulled Leah into her arms, pressing a deep, grounding kiss to her lips that made Leah’s breath hitch. She held her face after, warm hands on flushed cheeks. “First of all: You don’t look like shit,” she said firmly, voice low and full of love. “You look soft and beautiful as always, baby.” Leah’s eyes spilled over then, silent tears tracking down her face. Charlie shushed her softly while brushing her tears away with her thumbs. “Second: You’re allowed bad days. Like everyone else. You were in pain and overwhelmed and forgot. That doesn’t make you bad or stupid. It just makes you human. I’m not mad at you, not even a little bit. I changed the sheets because I love you and I don’t mind and I wanted to take care of it for you, baby. It’s okay.”

Leah sagged into her, all her walls crumbling at once. “I missed you so much today.”

“I missed you too.” Charlie kissed the top of her head, holding her like she had all the time in the world. “I’m here now, princess. And so are you.”

They stood like that for a while—dinner forgotten, hot chocolate still steaming on the counter in the ugly mug that said World’s Best Girlfriend. The only sound was Leah’s breathing evening out against Charlie’s neck, her arms wrapped tightly around the only person who could make her feel okay when the world felt like too much.

Eventually, Charlie whispered, “Come sit. Food first. Then cuddles. Then maybe you let me brush your hair, yeah?”

Leah nodded against her shoulder, soft and small. “Yeah. Please.”

Later that night, the flat was quiet except for the soft rustle of sheets and the hum of the city outside. Leah laid curled up against Charlie, her head on her girlfriend’s chest, ear pressed to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Charlie’s fingers combed gently through Leah’s damp hair, untangling strands with the kind of care that made Leah feel loved in ways she still didn’t always know how to ask for.

Her body was warm, finally relaxed, but her mind just wouldn’t stop.

Charlie was here. Charlie had been perfect today. But still, Leah’s thoughts spun in slow, uncertain spirals.

She let the silence linger a moment longer before whispering, “Would you… like me better if I wore skirts more often?”

Charlie’s fingers paused in her hair, her voice confused after a few seconds, as if wondering if she had heard right. “What?”

Leah swallowed, her voice suddenly small. “I just… I’ve been thinking about it. That photoshoot. You were so happy. So excited. And I know I don’t usually look like that. Or dress like that. And maybe you’d like someone who’s more… feminine. Or who puts in more effort.”

Charlie sat up slightly, pulling Leah with her, just enough so they were eye to eye in the low light of their bedroom.

“Leah,” she said gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Where is this coming from?”

Leah shrugged, eyes flickering away. “I dunno. I just… I looked nice in those pictures. And today I looked like I got hit by a bus. And I just kept wondering if you ever look at me and think, God, I wish she’d put on a dress or something.”

Charlie’s heart ached.

“Oh, baby,” she murmured, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her into a tight, full-bodied hug. “No. No, no, no, no, no. I love you just the way you are. Skirt or sweats or bathrobe or jeans. I don’t love you in spite of those things—I love you with them. Because of them.” She kissed Leah’s temple, then her cheek, then her nose, before leaning back just enough to meet her eyes again. “You are perfect. You are so beautiful. And kind. And sweet. And funny. And cute. And sexy, even when you don’t try. Especially when you don’t try.”

Leah blinked quickly, her throat tight. “But you work in a fashion magazine.”

“It’s GQ, princess. It’s men’s fashion. Baby, most of my wardrobe are three-piece suits.”

Charlie kissed her again, this time on the lips—slow and full of meaning, the kind that said I see you. I love you. Exactly like this.

“You’re not supposed to look like a model ready for a photoshoot every day,” she whispered against her mouth. “You’re my Leah. My sleepy, sometimes grumpy, incredible human. Who plays football and refuses to move from the couch if she’s too comfortable and complains if her carbonara has too much black pepper in it and makes the world better just by being in it.”

Leah’s tears returned, soft this time, slipping down her cheeks silently. Charlie kissed those too.

“You don’t need to change. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“I just want to be enough,” Leah whispered, her voice cracking.

“You’re more than enough. You’re everything.” Charlie said, and tightened her arms around her, holding her like she’d never let go.

They settled back down together, legs tangled, arms wrapped tight. Charlie’s lips found her hair again, and her fingers kept combing gently, rhythmically, like they had all the time in the world.

And Leah, finally, let herself believe it.

[cherrypopidol]

𝒶𝓍𝓁 𝓇𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒻𝓌 𝒶𝓁𝓅𝒽𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓉

A = affection

axl can be surprisingly affectionate once he feels safe with someone

early on he’s guarded and stiff but once that wall comes down he becomes warm and touchy in private

he’s not overly clingy but he does have a quiet need to be physically close to the person he loves

hand on your leg while you sit together, casual arm around your waist, pulling you closer while you’re lying in bed

doesn’t like PDA much

he gets weird about people watching and doesn’t trust the press or fans not to twist things

his version of affection often comes through protectiveness

you’re cold? he’ll wrap you in his jacket

someone talks down to you? he’s instantly tense, jaw clenched, tries to fight the person but you always stop him

when he’s really relaxed he gets soft—nuzzling his face into your neck, rubbing his nose against your cheek, holding your hand under the table like it’s a secret or interlocks your pinkies when you two walk hand to hand

B = best friend

once axl really lets you in, you become his person. not just his partner, but the only one he wants to call when something big happens—or when he’s falling apart

he’ll ramble on the phone at 2AM about song ideas, dreams he had, some dumb thing Slash said ten years ago

you’re the one who hears the uncensored versions of his fears, his grudges, and the things that haunt him

he trusts you with your opinions even when they are way different than his

being best friends with axl also means deep loyalty. he’d literally go to the ends of the earth for you

C = cuddling

he’s not a big spoon or little spoon—he’s the tangled-up-like-an-octopus spoon - arms and legs everywhere

cuddling with axl means having his head on your chest one minute and then him pulling you onto his chest the next

he doesn’t usually say much while cuddling, but his body relaxes completely, like he’s finally safe

but when he feels vulnerable he will whisper soft things into your ear

“You’re smell so sweet”

or

“You feel so small against me baby”

loves laying with you after a long show, still half-sweaty and wound up, needing to come down from the adrenaline crash with your heartbeat in his ear

if you run your fingers through his hair or gently scratch his back, he’ll melt or might even fall asleep on top of you

D = domestic life

domestic axl isn’t domestic AT ALL

but once he settles in, he has his own chaotic rhythm

you’ll find stacks of lyric notes on the counter, boots by the door, burnt cigarettes everywhere

he’s not great at routines as you usually have to reminds him about his vitamins

sometimes he surprises you—making breakfast in the middle of the night, fixing something random in the kitchen, reorganizing his closet just because he couldn’t sleep

loves when you help him decorate the space

he gets sentimental about little touches—like a photo of the two of you on the fridge or your perfume on the sheets

domesticity to him is about comfort so if he feel safe and at home with you, then he feels grounded

E = emotions

axl feels everything deeply, but he’s not great at showing it in healthy ways

his emotions are intense and sometimes unpredictable. he’ll shut down, lash out, or go quiet depending on what’s stirred up

but when he does open up? it’s raw and real. no pretending. he’ll tell you things that make you ache for him

you’ll start to notice his emotional shifts: the way he paces when he’s anxious, how he disappears into music when he’s overwhelmed, how he clings just a little tighter when he’s vulnerable and tired

he trusts you to not judge him. that’s everything to him—someone who doesn’t flinch when he breaks down

F = fights

fights with axl can be brutal because he’s passionate, impulsive, and doesn’t like feeling misunderstood

he’ll raise his voice, pace the room, say things he regrets if he’s really hurt but it comes from fear more than ego

the worst thing for him is feeling ignored or dismissed so if you walk away mid-argument, he’ll spiral

once he cools down he usually wants to fix things. he hates sleeping while something’s unresolved

axl’s learning to listen better over time—but it takes patience. he wants to do better for you

G = gifts

he’s not great at predictable gifts. birthdays, holidays? he usually forget. but when he does give gifts, they’re deeply personal

you’ll get a vintage ring that reminded him of your eyes, hand-written note tucked into your jacket, demo of a song he swears is just for you

he’ll come back from tour with random trinkets—things he picked up just because they made him think of you

doesn’t really care about money when it comes to you. if you mention something once he will buy it without thinking twice and there’s a good chance he’s already planning to surprise you with it

H = hugs

his hugs are intense

full-body, all-consuming, arms tight around your back

if it’s been a hard day, he’ll hug you and not let go for minutes

hugs from behind when you’re cooking or brushing your teeth are usual. he just needs to feel close to you

if you ever initiate the hug, you’ll see that flash of surprise in his eyes—and then he’ll bury his face in your shoulder like he’s home

I = intimacy

axl sees intimacy as something sacred so he doesn’t give it easily

trust is the biggest thing. he won’t fully open up until he knows you’re not going anywhere

he’ll show you pieces of himself slowly—old journals, stories from Indiana, vulnerable thoughts at 3AM

likes when you do the same. he wants to know your soul, not just the surface

his favorite kind of intimacy? quiet moments with no pressure—just laying together, talking about nothing, but feeling everything

J = jealousy

jealousy hits axl harder than he’d ever admit

he tries to play it cool, but if someone gets too close to you or looks at you a certain way, you’ll feel the shift in him instantly

he doesn’t always say something out loud, but his whole vibe changes—arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on whoever just crossed a line

if he does speak up, it’s usually a low, sarcastic comment that cuts just enough to make a point, he’s loves a little passive-aggression when he’s jealous

deep down, it’s not about control—it’s fear

fear that someone better will steal you away

fear that he’ll mess things up and lose the only person who really sees him

reassure him, and he softens immediately - hand on his chest, kiss on his cheek, reminding him he’s the only one you want—that’s all it takes to melt the storm

he hates the feeling, but sometimes he needs to know you’re still his

not in a possessive way—just in a scared, wounded heart way

K = kisses

axl’s kisses range from slow and teasing to hungry and rough

in public it’s usually quick pecks, forehead kisses or lips barely brushing your hand

in private he’ll kiss every inch of your face, neck, and hands like he’s memorizing you

he loves those lazy kisses in bed after you’ve both just woken up

when he really misses you, the kiss is different - urgent. needy. like he’s trying to speak through it

L = love

he doesn’t say it lightly

if he says “I love you” he really means it

you might hear it in a song first or catch it when he thinks you’re asleep

he shows love more than he speaks it—through loyalty, touch, and vulnerability

once he’s in love, he’s all in

there’s no halfway with axl.

M = music

music is his lifeblood—and he loves sharing it with you

you’re often the first person to hear a new idea - he’ll show you rough cuts and ask what you think

sometimes writes lyrics about you but won’t admit it

late night jam sessions, dancing around the house, and lying on the floor with vinyls playing—he loves having music as a shared language

N = nervous habits

when axl's nervous, it's not always obvious—he's learned to mask it pretty well but if you know what to look for it's there in the way he fidgets

he messes with his rings constantly—twisting them, sliding them on and off, tapping them against the nearest surface it's almost subconscious

if he's standing, he paces. not big dramatic steps—just tight, focused little loops like he's burning energy before it burns him

his jaw gets tight, too. you might catch him clenching his teeth or chewing on the inside of his cheek even tho he won't admit it

if you’re near, he'll reach for you. small touches —your wrist, your hoodie string, your hand—just to anchor himself. he won't even realize he's doing it

nervous axl is quiet, intense and on-edge but if you gently talk him down or offer a distraction (like a dumb joke or a song) he’ll slowly ease back into himself

O = opening up

takes time.

years, even

you have to be patient and gentle, but consistent

the first time he opens up about his childhood, it’s messy but after that? he starts trusting you more

eventually, you become his safe place—the one person he doesn’t have to put on a face for

he might start small—telling you about a nightmare or why he avoids certain songs

over time, the walls come down piece by piece. he’ll hand you scraps of himself: a photo from indiana, an old poem, a story about his mom he’s never shared

it’s not always linear. some days he’ll shut down again but when he comes back, he always comes back softer

the more he trusts you, the more you see how tender he truly is—how badly he wants to be understood, even when he doesn’t have the words

when he finally tells you something he’s never told anyone, he watches your face like it’ll decide the rest of his life if you respond with care you’ll see his whole body ease

he may never be the kind of guy who pours his heart out easily—but with you, he tries

P = protection

axl’s protectiveness is primal—bone-deep

the second he senses something off, his whole demeanor changes. he goes from relaxed to pissed in a breath

if someone touches you the wrong way or says something sideways, he’s in their face before you can even process it. doesn’t matter if it’s a friend, a fan, or some industry creep—he has zero patience for disrespect

doesn’t just stand in front of you physically—he commands the space around you. makes it known without words that no one messes with what’s his. that glare? cold and sharp.

even in everyday life, there’s this edge to how he watches over you. keeps a hand on your lower back in crowded rooms. watches people’s body language like a hawk

if you’re upset or crying he gets visibly worked up—furious at whatever (or whoever) hurt you. might pace, might clench his fists, might even leave the room so he doesn’t explode but then he comes back quieter, wraps you up in his arms like he’s shielding you from the world

gets aggressive with the idea of you being in danger. sometimes even snaps about things that haven’t happened just because the thought of losing you rattles him

he’d fight for you, no hesitation. not just metaphorically—physically, if he had to. doesn’t care about consequences if it means keeping you safe

it’s not about control—it’s about fierce loyalty. you’re his peace, his person and if anyone tries to hurt you, they don’t just get “angry Axl”—they get wrath

Q = quiet moments

axl craves quiet more than he lets on

the world around him is loud—shows, press, pressure—so silence with you becomes sacred

you’ll find him at peace in the softest moments: lying beside you with your legs tangled, the flicker of a candle on the nightstand, the low hum of a record spinning in the background

he’s not one for small talk in those moments. he’d rather trace lazy circles on your skin or just listen to you breathe

sometimes he’ll reach for your hand and hold it like it’s grounding him—like it’s proof he’s still here, still safe

it’s in these quiet spaces that he shows you the softest, most unguarded version of himself

no front

no fire

just axl, exhaling against your shoulder, like he finally doesn’t have to carry everything alone

R = romance

axl isn’t into cheesy, cookie-cutter romance

he won’t show up with heart-shaped balloons or choreographed gestures but when he loves you—really loves you—he shows it in ways that hit deeper

he remembers the little things - the song you hummed once while brushing your teeth, the exact way you take your coffee, the way you go quiet when you're overwhelmed and he uses those details to care for you without fanfare—he just does it

he’ll play you songs that remind him of you, even if he won’t explain why. he might not say “this makes me think of you” out loud, but he’ll put the track on and glance at you, and you’ll feel it in the way he looks at you while it plays

sometimes he’ll write for you—notes, lyrics, scribbles on napkins or the backs of receipts. he won’t always show them right away. he might keep them hidden for weeks or years before shyly handing them over with a mumbled

“It’s dumb, but…”

private romance is his comfort zone after all those relationship of his that were ruined mostly because of the press

middle-of-the-night forehead kisses

quiet “be safe”s when you leave

rubbing your back when you’re anxious

holding you in his sleep like it’s instinct, not a decision

that said—when the mood hits, and he feels brave enough—he can be surprisingly tender - roses when you’re sad, a spontaneous getaway, a slow dance in the kitchen, barefoot and soft-eyed, no cameras, no stage. just you and him

S = support

stands behind you fiercely

if you’re chasing a dream he’s cheering loudest

wants to know how your day was, what’s on your mind, how he can help

if you’re upset he’s either ready to fight for you—or hold you until it passes

he might not always say the right thing but he shows up and always tries to show you that he's supporting you

T = trust

trust is the foundation for everything with axl—and also the thing he struggles with most

he’s been betrayed before, in love, in friendship, in business. so when he meets someone new his guard is sky-high

it starts small—he’ll tell you a random story, show you an old lyric he never used, mention a feeling he doesn’t usually say out loud and he watches how you react

if you’re steady if you listen without trying to fix him or judge him or dig too deep too fast—that’s when something shifts

it’s not linear. he’ll open up one day, then pull back the next but if you stick around through the push and pull, he notices. that loyalty means everything

once he really trusts you? you get a version of him no one else does. the kid from Indiana who just wanted to be loved. the artist who was betrayed by the industry. the man who needs safety, not noise

he lets you in on the darker things—fears, regrets, old wounds that still sting. not because he wants you to fix him but because you’re the only one he feels safe enough to show them to

if you ever lie to him? even a little? it cuts deep. he won’t explode—he’ll shut down. quiet. cold. wounded. it takes a long, long time to earn back what’s broken

but if you prove yourself again and again? you can earn his trust back

also that armor he always wears? it drops... only for you

U = unpredictable

he keeps you on your toes—in good and bad ways

might surprise you with a spontaneous road trip… or disappear into music for two days. you'll never know

can be moody but also wildly funny and creative

being with him is a ride or die—but never boring

V = vulnerability

rare and incredibly beautiful when it happens

you’ll see it in the way his voice cracks when he talks about the past

or how tightly he holds you some nights

vulnerability for him means surrendering fear—and that takes so mucg

he’s not used to being comforted but when you do it gently, he leans in

W = worries

he worries A LOT

about losing you - that you’ll wake up one day and realize he’s too much—too volatile, too damaged, too difficult to love

about not being enough

about the future

about the band

about people betraying him

about the press digging up old wounds

carries more anxiety than he lets on

Needs constant reassurance, even if he won’t ask for it directly

When you hold his face and say, “I’m not going anywhere” his eyes soften like a kid who’s been waiting his whole life to hear that

he overthinks things you say, replays moments wondering if he handled them wrong. even on good days there’s a flicker of fear in him—like happiness is a thread that might snap

at some nights, he can’t sleep because his mind won’t stop racing. he’ll get out of bed and pace the kitchen barefoot at 3AM, smoking and thinking, heart pounding with dread over things that haven’t even happened

he’ll never stop worrying completely but your love teaches him, slowly, how to live in the moments instead of fearing their end

X = (e)xes

he doesn’t talk much about them. too much pain, too many complicated memories

if you ask, he’ll be honest—but you’ll notice the tension in his shoulders

he worries about repeating mistakes. hurting you the way he hurt others—or got hurt himself

your patience makes all the difference

Y = yearning

when axl misses you, it’s not just a passing thought—it consumes him

he turns restless. the bed feels too cold, the house too quiet, and even music doesn’t settle the ache right away. he’ll replay voicemails just to hear your voice or go through old photos

he sends you long, chaotic voivemails in the middle of the night—some sweet, some rambling, some that trail off halfway through like he fell asleep thinking of you

when he’s on the road, he’ll call just to hear you breathe. he doesn’t always have the words—especially when he’s overwhelmed or jet-lagged or emotionally wrung out—but the need is loud in the way he asks:

“What you doing?” when he really means “Tell me something that makes me feel close to you”

when he’s yearning his voice goes soft, his eyes search yours like he’s trying to memorize you. he touches you more slowly when you’re finally back together—holding your face in both hands, pressing his forehead to yours like he can’t believe you’re real

he’ll whisper things like:

“I didn’t know I could miss someone like this”

or

“It’s not the same without you. Nothing is”

Z = Zzz

night owl

hates going to bed early—he’s always up too late writing, thinking, or pacing

sleeps best when you’re next to him. needs to feel you there, even if it’s just your hand in his

total blanket thief and a clinger

wraps around you like a vine and doesn’t let go

mumbles in his sleep sometimes. you might catch pieces of lyrics, old arguments or your name

if you fall asleep first, he’ll stay awake a while just watching you, brushing your hair back gently

on tour, he barely sleeps without you. calls in the middle of the night just to hear your voice

nothing calms him faster than your fingers in his hair and your steady breath beside him

///

𝒜𝓁𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓎 𝐼 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝓈𝒻𝓌 𝑜𝓃𝑒 (𝒾 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉) 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒾 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝓊𝓎𝓈 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎 𝒾𝓉!!

[purplearrowzandleather-blog]

Maverick: I'm tired

The '86 Crew: Mav? Are you... okay? You're never tired

Mav, looking one wrong step away from fainting: *sniffs* I'm exhausted

The '86 Crew: You want a hug?

Mav: Please?

The '86 Crew: *Hugs Maverick*

Maverick, seconds later: I just had the best idea! Anyone want to go skydiving?!

The '86 Crew: He didn't even take a nap??????

[pr-wlrrr42]

"My cat won't let me get anything done"

And then it's just a picture of Ganke sleeping on Miles's chest while he's struggling to use him as a table for his sketchbook.

^^^

[nekoashiii]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Get out!

Pairings: Lads men x afab!reader

Summary: Your 4 year old child, is fighting with their dad over you. part 2

If you enjoyed this, check this post out too!

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ sylus

The sun had barely crept over the horizon when a small, warm weight landed on your stomach. You let out a soft groan, blinking sleep from your eyes as a tiny giggle filled the air.

“Mama! Wake up!”

A little girl with curly white hair and big red eyes beamed down at you, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement. Your daughter, Elena, was already full of energy despite the early hour.

You reached out, gently tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Sweetheart, it’s too early… come cuddle with us instead.” You said as you hugged your daughter to your chest and laid on your side, using her like a small warm plushie to hold

Elena pouted, but before she could argue, a deep, gravelly voice interrupted.

“Excuse me, little one,” Sylus drawled from behind you, his arm tightening possessively around your waist. “I believe your mother is mine in the mornings.”

Elena huffed, climbing over you to plant herself between the two of you, effectively shoving Sylus away. “No! Mama is mine today.”

Sylus narrowed his dark red eyes, feigning insult. “Oh? And what am I supposed to do, hmm? Spend the morning alone?” He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his white, tousled hair. “How tragic.”

You smothered a laugh as Elena folded her arms, her tiny frame full of defiance. “You have all day with Mama. It’s my turn now! Get out of bed dada”

Sylus turned to you, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Sweetheart, tell our dear daughter that monopolizing her mother isn’t allowed.”

You stretched with a soft yawn, brushing your fingers through Elena’s soft curls before placing a hand on Sylus’ chest. “Sorry, love, but she does have a point.”

Sylus let out an exaggerated groan, flopping onto his back. “Betrayed. By my own wife and child.”

Elena giggled and latched onto your arm. “Come on, Mama! Let’s go make pancakes!”

Before you could even respond, she was already tugging you out of bed. You barely had time to throw on a robe before being dragged toward the kitchen.

Sylus followed at a much slower pace, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway, watching the two of you. His lips twitched in amusement as Elena enthusiastically handed you ingredients, most of which you didn’t even need.

“Flour, eggs, milk,” you listed off, cracking an egg into the bowl.

“And chocolate chips!” Elena added excitedly.

“That wasn’t part of the original plan,” you teased, ruffling her hair.

“But Mama, chocolate makes everything better,” she argued.

You sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. Chocolate it is.”

Elena cheered as you mixed the batter, and soon enough, the scent of warm pancakes filled the kitchen. You plated them neatly, setting them on the table, but before you could sit down, Sylus was already pulling you into his lap.

“Alright, little one,” he said, smirking at Elena. “I was patient. Now it’s my turn.”

Elena gasped. “No fair! You get Mama all the time!”

Sylus held you close, his lips brushing against your temple. “Exactly. Which is why I should get the first bite.”

Elena narrowed her eyes before suddenly grabbing a piece of pancake and stuffing it into your mouth. “Mama gets first bite!”

You nearly choked, laughing as Sylus sighed in mock defeat.

The morning continued like this, the two of them constantly bickering over who got more of your attention. If Sylus wrapped an arm around you, Elena would climb onto your lap. If Elena got you to braid her hair, Sylus would find a way to pull you into a slow, lingering kiss—only for Elena to dramatically cover her eyes and shout, “Eww, Papa!”

It was an endless tug-of-war, but one thing was clear: you were deeply, endlessly loved.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ Caleb

The day had been long. Between running errands, cleaning up after a particularly chaotic dinner, and making sure your 4-year-old son had actually bathed instead of just splashing water everywhere, all you wanted was to crawl into bed and melt into your pillows.

But, of course, fate—or rather, the two most stubborn males in your life—had other plans.

Just as you pulled back the covers, ready to slide under the sheets, a little whirlwind of energy burst into the room. Your son, Noah, padded in with a determined expression, his favorite stuffed apple plush clutched in one arm.

“I’m sleeping with Mama tonight!” he declared, climbing onto the bed as if he owned it.

You sighed, already sensing the inevitable battle brewing.

“Noah,” you started patiently, “you have your own bed, sweetheart.”

“But I don’t want my own bed,” he pouted, scooting closer. “I wanna sleep here with you.”

Before you could formulate a response, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, and in walked Caleb, still in his colonel uniform, just back from the fleet, arms crossed over his broad chest. His sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on the intruder in his domain.

“Noah,” Caleb said, voice edged with authority. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Noah puffed out his little chest, glaring up at his father. “I’m sleeping with Mama.”

Caleb raised a brow. “No, you’re not. I sleep with Mama.”

“Well, not tonight.”

“Yes, tonight.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Are you two seriously about to argue over this?”

Neither of them responded. Instead, they were locked in a silent battle of wills, Caleb towering over Noah, while Noah, unafraid, jutted his chin out defiantly.

“I got here first,” Noah announced.

“I’ve been here for years,” Caleb countered, placing a knee on the bed as if preparing for battle.

Noah tightened his grip on his stuffed apple plush. “Mama likes cuddling with me more!”

“Excuse me?” Caleb scoffed. “I am a very good cuddler. The best.”

“No, you’re too big! You take up all the space!”

“I do not—”

“You do! And you snore!”

Caleb looked personally offended. “I do not snore.”

“Yes, you do,” you cut in, unable to hold back your smirk.

Caleb’s mouth fell open, betrayal clear on his face. “Sweetheart—”

“It’s true, Daddy,” Noah added smugly. “You sound like a big grumpy bear.”

Caleb scowled. “I am a big grumpy bear.”

“I don’t wanna sleep with a grumpy bear.”

“I don’t wanna sleep with a tiny bed hog.”

Noah gasped dramatically. “I am not a bed hog!”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. watching the two go on and on “Alright, enough.”

Both of them snapped their heads toward you, watching as you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.

“You two fight over me every single night. And honestly?” You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed. “I’m sick of it.”

Caleb and Noah blinked.

“What?” Noah asked innocently.

You grabbed two pillows from the bed, shoving one into Caleb’s hands and the other into Noah’s tiny arms.

“You two can take this argument somewhere else.” You gestured toward the door. “Both of you—out.”

Noah’s jaw dropped. “But—”

Caleb furrowed his brows. “You’re kicking me out, too?”

“Yes. Out. Both of you.”

“But Mama—”

“No buts! I am going to sleep alone, in peace, without a four-year-old climbing all over me or a six-foot colonel trying to wrap himself around me like an octopus.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Go fight over who gets the couch.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sleeping on the couch.”

Noah smirked. “Guess I’ll get the couch, then.”

“Oh no, you won’t,” Caleb shot back.

You sighed and physically pushed both of them toward the door. “Out.”

Noah whimpered. “Mama, wait—”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” You kissed his forehead before turning to Caleb. “And you—” You gave him a pointed glare. “Good. Night.”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, clearly displeased with the outcome. “This is mutiny.”

“Call it whatever you want, Colonel, but it’s happening.”

With that, you shut the door in their faces.

For a moment, there was silence. Then—

“This is your fault,” Caleb muttered.

“I still get the couch,” Noah replied smugly.

You grinned, sinking into your blissfully empty bed, enjoying the first real night of uninterrupted sleep in weeks.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ Rafayel

Life with Rafayel was never dull. Being married to one of the most renowned artists in the world came with its own set of challenges—his erratic work schedule, his bursts of inspiration at ungodly hours, and, of course, the ever-looming threat of someone discovering his biggest secret.

Rafayel wasn’t just a celebrated painter, sculptor, and occasional recluse. he was also a Lemurian—a species of deep-sea mermen that most humans believed to be myths. Lemurians were creatures of the ocean, rarely venturing into the human world.

But Rafayel had. He had chosen to leave behind the waves, to live among humans, to build a life with you. And together, you had a daughter—little Seraphina—who had inherited his everything. His attitude, his stupidly handsome face shape, his genes left nothing for yours to take root in seraphina.

And now, the two of them were bickering. Again.

You rubbed your temples, exhaling deeply. “Can you two please stop fighting over me for five minutes?”

Rafayel, ever the dramatic artist, was sprawled on the couch with a faux-wounded expression, his purple hair draped over his face. “I cannot believe this betrayal,” he murmured. “I, your devoted husband, have been abandoned.”

Seraphina, all four years of attitude and tiny hands on her hips, stood her ground. “You had Mama all day! It’s my turn!”

Rafayel gasped, looking personally offended. “Excuse me, little guppy, but I believe it is always my turn.”

Seraphina pouted, her violet eyes—exactly like her father’s—narrowing. “Mama played with me first.”

“Mama kissed me first this morning.”

“Well—Mama let me sit on their lap while we ate breakfast.”

“Mama lets me sleep in the bed next to them.”

You groaned. “Rafayel, she’s four.”

“And?” He arched a perfect brow. “She must learn that a wife’s love belongs to her husband first.”

Seraphina huffed, turning to you with pleading eyes. “Mama, tell Daddy he’s being mean.”

You sighed, knowing full well that no answer would satisfy either of them.

Rafayel rolled onto his side, reaching a hand toward you as if on his deathbed. “My love, tell our traitorous offspring that no one can replace me in your heart.”

“I am not a traitor!” Seraphina stomped a tiny foot. “Mama loves me so much! Even more than you!”

Rafayel sat up instantly. “Oh, now that’s where you’re wrong.”

“No, I’m right!”

“You wish, little one.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, wondering how your life had come to this—caught between two extremely possessive, competitive merfolk.

Seraphina suddenly latched onto your leg, wrapping herself around it like a tiny octopus. “Mine,” she declared.

Rafayel narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

Seraphina stuck her tongue out at him.

Rafayel smirked. “Well then.” He cracked his knuckles and stretched his arms. “If that’s how you want to play it.”

In one swift motion, he scooped Seraphina up, ignoring her protests as he carried her toward the glass doors leading to the backyard’s infinity pool—built deep enough to accommodate his real form.

Seraphina’s eyes widened. “Wait—WAIT! What are you doing?!”

Rafayel grinned mischievously. “Throwing you back into the sea where you belong, little guppy.”

“NOOO!”

You laughed, watching as Seraphina clung to her father’s arm, suddenly realizing her fight for dominance might have backfired.

“Say it,” Rafayel teased, holding her above the water. “Say I win.”

Seraphina squirmed. “Never!”

Rafayel raised a brow. “Alright then—”

“MAMA HELP!”

You folded your arms, amused. “This seems like a father-daughter matter.”

Seraphina gasped at your betrayal. “Mama, no!”

Rafayel gave you a smug look. “Oh, so now you need me, hmm?”

Seraphina groaned dramatically before finally giving in. “Fiiiiiine. You win.”

Rafayel set her back on the ground, ruffling her purple hair. “That’s my girl.”

She huffed but then immediately clung to your side again. “But Mama still loves me more.”

Rafayel scoffed. “Dream on, little guppy.”

You sighed, shaking your head. This was your life now.

[evamame]

2:05 A.M. / atsumu miya

your eyes, still heavily laced with sleep, flutter open to see atsumu laying by your side with his back leaning against the headboard. your baby daughter is curled up in his arms, fussing to no end.

atsumu feels you stir beside him and looks down at you, explaining the situation in a low whisper, “woke up and heard her cryin’.”

“just now?” you ask, your words hushed. you look over at the clock on the bedside table—2:05 A.M.

“‘bout five minutes ago. no amount of shushin’ is gonna get this girl to sleep.” he gently rocks her against his chest, running his hand through her wispy locks of hair in a futile attempt to soothe her.

you two are both drained. the forced smile on atsumu’s face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes is powered by the purest of love and adoration, but his gaze is still laced with exhaustion nonetheless. his eyes droop with heavy weariness, and you’re no different. every night your baby girl can’t help but throw an uncontrollable fit programmed to drive you both insane.

a long sigh of defeat leaves your lips as she continues to bawl, the noise beginning to ring in your ears. “take your shirt off.”

atsumu turns his head to you, one brow cocking up in confusion, “huh? ma’ shirt? why?”

you take the wailing baby from his arms, “just do it.”

he hesitates for a moment before obliging, quickly throwing his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. he holds his arms out, and you carefully hand your daughter back to him.

“skin to skin contact might help her calm down.”

he pulls your daughter impossibly close to his chest at your words, “ya’ think so?”

“i know so. the feeling of your heartbeat will relax her.”

you watch as he looks down at your daughter, and the silent pleading, willing, for her to calm down is palpable in his gaze. then soon enough, as if it’s a miracle, she slowly begins to settle in atsumu’s arms. her loud cries start to die down at the sound and feel of her papa’s heartbeat close to her ear.

“it’s really workin’,” atsumu mutters quietly in disbelief under his breath.

“see?” you curl up closer to atsumu’s side, running the back of your hand soothingly over your daughter’s tiny cheek.

“guess she just wanted her papa’s cuddles,” atsumu smiles tenderly, one filled with relief at the absence of her cries. he kisses the top of her fragile head before leaning his own head back against the headboard in defeat, followed by a soft sigh of resignation. his eyes close shut to rest for a quick moment, brows furrowed.

“just wake me up next time. i‘ll deal with it.”

he shakes his head, voice weak and raspy from a lack of sleep, “yer’ more tired than i am.”

“but—” you open your mouth to protest, but are cut off by atsumu’s words.

“i know. it’s okay. ya’ do great dealing with her all day when i’m at practice. lemme do this for ya’.” he leans over to place your daughter, who’s now fast asleep, back into the beside bassinet.

he slides under the blanket, strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to his warm chest as his legs tangle with yours. he tucks you under his chin, his breath tickling the top of your head as he mumbles, “ya’ need some rest too, mama.”

“don’t you want to put your shirt back on?”

you feel his lips curve into a teasing smile against your hair despite his exhaustion, “maybe the skin to skin contact will help ya’ get some much needed sleep too.”

“it doesn’t work like that,” you murmur.

“mhm,” he hums in response, and if he wasn’t so tired, he’d laugh at the way you fall limp into his arms, heavy with sleep not even a second afterwards.

masterlist | tag list | tags: @scoupsworld @mires765 @amaliaaliena a/n: atsumu is THE girl dad

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

“I’m starting to worry, Cap.” Price and you both stood in the common room kitchen and watched as Simon brewed his umpteenth coffee of the day. Something which was alarming in of its own. But the fact that the Brit refused to even touch coffee unless he was seriously tired, added to the worry that was brewing in your guts. But the captain seemed less worried. “It’s Simon. He’ll be alright.” With those, words, he left the room, probably going back to his office to take care of some paperwork. Seemingly the only thing any of you had been doing ever since you got back from the last mission.

A few hours later, you approached Soap, worry etched onto your face. “He hasn’t slept for days. We have to do something.” Soap, who barely looked up from whatever file he was working on, shrugged. “He does that sometimes. You’ll get used to it.” With a deep sigh, you turned to look at Simon, who was staring at the same page, he had been looking at for the last twenty minutes.

Gaz was your last hope. He had to be at least a little bit worried. But no. “Hey, do you have any idea what we can do about Ghost?” He too just shrugged, glancing at his lieutenant. “At some point, he’ll just collapse and sleep it off. Don’t worry.” You groaned in frustration after he left. How could they all be so nonchalant about this. Yes, of course, you knew that Simon struggled with insomnia. It’s something he told you when he first opened up to you after he had found you wandering around after you had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep. But you had never seen it get so bad.

You spent the whole day, trying to think of something you could do until you remembered something someone close to you had said. Nervous, but determined, you quickly searched for Simon, finding him in the common room with the others. He looked terrible, which only strengthened your resolve, but did nothing against the nerves bubbling in your gut.

Without a word, you grabbed his hand and dragged him to his room. He barely put up a fight, only once asking what you were doing, but quickly relenting when you told him to just trust you. Once inside his room, you quickly laid down on his bed and pulled him on top of you, gently cradling him against your chest. “Sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up, okay?” At first, he was stiff as a board, but slowly he relaxed, even cuddled into you, wrapping his own arms around your waist as his head rested against your chest. And before you knew it, he was asleep, softly snoring. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, gently letting your fingers scratch his scalp.

What you didn’t expect, was for this to become a regular occurrence. “The only way I can fall asleep now, love”, or something like that.

Alternative Ending:

Pissed off at everyones disregard, you decided to take it into your own hands and within a few hours you had everything you needed. That night, as everyone sat in the common room, watching some cheesy movie Soap had picked out, you asked the boys if they wanted a drink, and all of them said yes, even if you only cared if Simon said yes. So, you disappeared into the kitchen and fixed everyone their favorites, adding a little surprise to Simon’s.

Back in the common room, you handed everyone their glasses, before you plopped down next to your victim target. After watching him sip the amber-colored liquid for a few minutes, you fully turned to him. “Are you enjoying your drink?” His hand, which was just pulling the glass away from his lips again, halted as he glanced at you, confusion and suspicion in his eyes. Silence filled the space between the two of you for a few moments before he cleared his throat. “Have you poisoned me?”

You chuckled dryly, dismissively waving your hands. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a mild sedative, enjoy your rest.” Just in time, his eyelids started to droop and you quickly took the glass from him, placing it on the couch table. A moment later, he slowly fell towards you and you caught him, gently laying him down on the couch. After you made sure he looked comfortable and tugged a blanket in around him, you turned back to the TV, now noticing that the other three were staring at you with wide eyes.

“What? None of you wanted to help me. And don’t think I won’t do the same to you lot if you go around not sleeping for days, you hear me?” Gaz and Price immediately raised their hands and nodded obediently. Soap, on the other hand, started cackling, until you shushed him.

After the movie was over, you sent the boys to their rooms, while you stayed sitting on the floor next to the couch, keeping watch over the sleeping Simon. The sun was starting to rise when his eyes blinked open and you smiled softly. “Hey there.” He frowned. “You drugged me.” You shrugged, reaching out to push strands of his hair out of his eyes. “Had to. Would do it again.” Simon slowly nodded.

“You stayed here all night?” You nodded, your hand slowly drifting to his cheek. “Had to make sure you were alright.” He mirrored your nod, closing his eyes, while just enjoying your attention. “Can you get the good stuff next time?” You giggled. “Sure. But for now, let’s get you to your actual bed.” The moment you got to your feet, a sharp tug on your hand sent you into Simon’s arms, who just wrapped you up in a hug, twisting until he was lying with his head on your chest. “Nah. Let’s stay here.” Almost automatically, your fingers started to comb through his hair as you smiled to yourself. “Alright.” You both quickly drifted off to sleep.

Without your knowledge, Simon put the pictures the others took when they found you two, as his phone background and even kept a printed out version on himself at all times.

A/N: Just some nice little fluff! Hope you liked it! The alternative ending is based on this incorrect quote from @metallictastinglifesupportliquid. Also, let me know if you want to be on the perma taglist! Just say if you want all of COD or specific characters. Although I mostly post Ghost.

@dravenskye @herefor-tojis-tits @lucienofthelakes

[sttoru]

your boyfriend sleeps on the couch after an argument you both had earlier that day. after calming your nerves and taking time for yourself, you realise that you might have been a bit too harsh on him.

☀︎｜tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff / angst / hurt + comfort. age gap (reader early 20’s & satoru early 30’s). nicknames used; ‘(little) baby’. he’s honestly just the perfect combination of gentle and teasing. subtle mentions of size difference.

satoru shifts on the couch whilst letting out an inaudible yawn. he was tired after an entire day at work and finally had the chance to settle down in the comfort of his apartment.

though, he couldn’t really relax just yet. the reason why being the undeniable tension hanging in the air. he was in fact home, but it didn’t feel like it. not when you were missing.

you had holed yourself up in the master bedroom after an earlier argument the two of you had. it wasn’t a big fight — just a little squabble between lovers. satoru didn’t rush after you when you had decided to walk away midst argument. you clearly weren’t in the right headspace to properly articulate nor communicate your feelings.

he figured that you just needed some time alone and thus decided to leave you be. he didn’t want to risk losing you by annoying you any further.

satoru scrolls on his phone out of boredom. the light radiating off the screen starts to bother his already sensitive eyes. with a sigh, he shuts off the device and puts it down on the coffee table.

it was dead silent in the apartment that was usually filled with your lively chatter. the sorcerer wants nothing more than to cuddle up with you under the covers and fall asleep. but, you needed space and he wasn’t going to disturb you.

he drapes an arm over his eyes and pulls the thin blanket over his chest. his breaths were steady and his thoughts were surprisingly calm. satoru almost drifts off to sleep, however his body lightly jolts awake once he hears the creaking of a door.

careful footsteps echo throughout the hallway and stop right at the doorstep of the living room.

satoru moves his arm to the side so his vision wouldn’t be obstructed. his eyes land on the figure standing at the doorframe — one he could recognise instantly.

it was you, standing there with your head held low and your fingers curled around the hem of your nightgown. you didn’t take another step forwards and just lingered in your spot for a few seconds without saying anything.

“hey, baby.” satoru breaks the silence. his voice was as soft as it could be, not an ounce of annoyance or frustration in it. even if he had all the reason to be upset according to you.

you remember just how childish you acted earlier; you had lost all rationality, shouted at your boyfriend out of frustration and ran off mid sentence instead of properly addressing the issue at hand. the way you handled that situation was wrong and immature.

in contrast to your immature behaviour, satoru had stayed calm and collected throughout the entirety of your argument. he hadn’t raised his voice at you even once nor did he blame you for anything. you felt bad for acting like a bratty kid who didn’t get her way.

you eventually move towards the couch, still not making eye contact with your boyfriend. he sits up and simply watches you with a raised eyebrow—curious as to what you were about to do.

you knew you had to apologise for your behaviour, but what you needed first was his validation. you wordlessly climb onto the couch and under the blanket satoru was using.

your arms wrap around his torso and you hug him tightly to your body, face buried in his shirt to cover your embarrassed and remorseful expression.

satoru’s eyes widen a bit at the sudden show of affection, though he wasn’t complaining. he reciprocates the gesture and nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head.

“my little baby.” he chuckles, hands rubbing your back in attempt to reassure you that everything was and will be fine, “i’m happy you decided to come back to me — thank you.”

again. that tender tone satoru uses only with you and for you. the guilt from earlier hits you like a truck and your eyes well up with tears before you could stop the process.

“sorry,” your voice cracks once you finally muster out an apology. the warmth engulfing your cold body was enough to make you sob in his comforting embrace. satoru sighs and closes his eyes. he rests his chin on top of your head whilst holding you like his life depended on it.

no words were exchanged between you two for a good minute. satoru silently encourages you to cry it out and so you do. after calming down, you sniffle and pull your head away from his chest. your eyes were watery and a bit red.

the pad of his thumb sweeps the stray tears away from your cheeks, his touch precise and careful. he smiles softly at the sight of his teary-eyed girlfriend. you were so adorable and precious to him. even when you looked like a mess — a pretty mess.

“i just..” you start off, small hiccups interrupting your sentence, “i wanted to apologise for acting so childish. i shouldn’t have said nor did any of those hurtful things. i apologise for that as well.”

your lover nods along to your words. he hums in delight and kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for longer than intended, “don’t worry, baby. i understand. thank you for apologising, though.”

you mutter a small ‘of course’ in-between sniffles. that was all the reassurance you had needed to hear from your boyfriend. though, you still felt bad and the guilt of your immature actions seemed to linger in the back of your mind.

you lay your head back on satoru’s chest and listen to his heartbeat — hoping that the constant sound would drown out any other thoughts. your lover lays on his back and pulls you down on top of him. his hands rub your sides, slender fingers toying with the silky material of your nightgown.

“i’m sorry for being immature sometimes. i’m sure it must be troubling to deal with.” you whisper as you enjoy the feeling of being back in satoru’s arms.

he grins and shakes his head in response. he loves every side of yours — even your immature one. if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here right now. he truly loves all of you.

the older man places another soft kiss on top of your head and closes his eyes afterwards, “heh, i’d be lying if i said that you trying to act all tough earlier wasn’t cute.”

satoru snickers at the memory. he remembers how you pointed that little finger of yours in front of his face and how you tried to subtly stand on the tips of your toes so you could look him in the eyes properly. your attempts at looking intimidating were quite endearing.

it’s not like he was invalidating your feelings with that comment — he was genuinely trying to lighten your mood. and it wasn’t like it didn’t work.

“whatever.” you huff, playfully swatting his biceps and gaining an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ in response. you’re glad that things have gone back to normal between you two. if the situation had continued for any longer, you’d have lost your mind.

you aren’t the only one who is extremely relieved. satoru is beaming with joy because he gets to hold and talk to you again. that small period of silence between the both of you felt like an eternity to him.

no matter how many times you have those little arguments, satoru will still love you all the same.

[archangeldyke-all]

Isha walking into reader and sevikas room to sleep because jinx kept on pushing her off the bed :,(

(also I love the stuff you write and I hope your having a good day/noon/night!)

aweeeeeee (also tysm!! i'm slugging thru my period but i'm feeling better this evening hehe!)

men and minors dni

around midnight, you wander into the living room to find jinx taking apart your coffee maker. you rub your eyes, pull the blankets over sleeping isha's shoulders, before pouring a glass of juice and placing it beside jinx's workspace.

"can't sleep?" you ask, sitting beside her and ruffling her bangs. jinx shrugs.

"your coffee maker kept drippin', couldn't sleep with it." she mumbles, taking a slurp off her juice, her eyes studying the parts scattered on your dining table.

"y'know if you're bored... sevika's got a big ol' stash of comic books in the storage closet. classic oldies from when we were kids-- 'sharkshooter', 'janna's ravens',--"

"does she have any 'sparkgirls'? she asks, an excited glimmer in her eye. you grin.

"that was her favorite. go ahead, just don't rip any of the pages. these're her babies." you chuckle, pulling open the closet and letting jinx clamor over to you. you give her a quick kiss then wander back to the bedroom, ruffling isha's hair as you pass her on the couch.

"y'okay?" sevika mumbles as you crawl back into bed beside her. you giggle and kiss her cheek.

"just checkin' on jinx 'n the kid."

"mmm." sevika mumbles, flipping over to bury her face against your tits. "love you."

her snores quickly lull you back to bed.

you wake up a few hours later to sevika jumping awake beside you.

"'s wrong?" you mumble.

"i don't-- there's something-- isha?!" sevika asks, throwing the blankets back and flicking a lamp on.

a big pair of gold eyes blink up at the pair of you.

"s-sorry ms. vika. i go' cold without ms. jinx on the couch wi' me."

you burst into giggles, cooing down at the baby in your bed and laying back down against the mattress. isha curls up against your side. "come back to bed, sev." you say, rolling your eyes at your gawking girlfriend.

"she's in my spot!" sevika sputters, pointing at where isha's curled up on your chest. you chuckle and make grabby hands for her.

"c'mon, w'ere cold! right isha?" you ask. the kid giggles and nods, mimicking your own grabby hands.

sevika snorts an exhausted laugh, crawling back into bed beside you two, pulling the covers up and flicking the light out.

when isha's little snores start up sevika reaches over the bed to poke you. "you realize this means we gotta put a lock on the door for when we wanna fuck, now, right?" she asks.

you fall asleep laughing, reaching across the mattress to weave your fingers between sevika's.

when you finally wake up in the morning, jinx has joined your cuddle pile, curled up at the foot of the bed like a dog, one of sevika's comics clutched to her chest as she snores.

isha's laying directly on top of sevika, and sevika's got one arm curled around the girl, the other reaching out to hold your own hand.

she blinks awake when you press a kiss to her forehead, groaning when she realizes how many guests have joined your bed. you chuckle.

"you're the one who dragged 'em both home." you remind her.

"we need to find a bigger fuckin' house." she mumbles.

"or at least a bigger bed." you giggle.

sevika glances over at you, and all the annoyance and frustration melt away the second her eyes meet yours. "they're lucky i got you, y'know. no fuckin' way i'd let two kids crash the bachlorette pad i had before i met you."

"y'mean you weren't softened up enough yet?" you tease.

sevika grins and shrugs. "somethin' like that."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @lavandasz

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[tagged-by-trauma]

Father's day gift

After years of failing to start a family you give up, just to be met with a big surprise. And how else would you tell Pedro than visiting him on set? Pairing: Pedro Pascal x wife!reader Warnings: fluff, established relationship, failed pregnancies, unplanned pregnancy, surprises, strong emotions, cuddles Word count: 1.3k

You were standing on the set of Fantastic Four, waiting for Pedro. Well, actually waiting to surprise him. He has been away for a few weeks now, and you two were living off of texts, calls and cute messages sent during the night. He was always so excited to tell you about his day, about what scene they had to film, and you always listened attentively, clinging onto every word that spilled through your phone’s speaker.

But nearly a week after he got on the flight that fled him to London, you found out about something—something that would change your lives forever.

You started to feel weaker and more tired each day, sometimes dizziness hit you out of nowhere, making you sit down for a while. At first you didn’t pay any attention to it, just thought it was the stress, maybe you pushed yourself too far with work and it caught up with you. But when you threw up for the fourth morning in a row, you knew it was not just the flu or a stomach bug. So, you went to the pharmacy, bought three pregnancy tests, and when that five minute that seemed like an eternity passed, and you looked down, your heart stopped.

Six lines. Clear. Visible.

That night you broke down in tears, because after years of trying it happened. After years of only one line on the tests it became reality. After you and Pedro gave up the hope and didn’t even try anymore, agreeing on another solution, you were there, with your baby growing inside you.

That night you couldn’t sleep, and that’s how you decided to tell him. You planned everything. You bought the ticket to London, talked to his manager about this little surprise of yours, and when he agreed you felt like you were walking on the clouds. But when you saw a little onesie in one of the windows as you were walking down the street, you knew that it was going to be the perfect gift.

So, here you were now, sitting in one of the tucked away corners and watching as Pedro nailed every line with perfect emotions and expressions. You were always fascinated by the way he got into his characters, giving the feelings and emotions through the TV screen. His agent sat next to you, and besides the words that was said in front of the cameras the whole set was silent.

“That’s a wrap for today, guys. You were amazing,” the yell of the director pulled you out of the train of your thoughts, and you looked up, watching as everyone started to pack away, talking, the actors getting out of their characters. You turned your head towards his agent, and he gave you an encouraging look.

That was all you needed.

You picked up the little box from the table, standing up and slowly walking towards Pedro, who was still showing his back to you while talking to Vanessa. She noticed you first and gave you a wide smile. Pedro must have noticed the change in her expression because he turned around and his eyes immediately fell on you. His mouth parted, eyes widened in surprise, his little grin appearing on his face. The next thing you knew he was standing in front of you, and you were in the air while he was spinning you around.

“Carino, what are you doing here?” he mumbled into your mouth as he gave you a deep kiss. “Not that I’m complaining just… Didn’t expect you,” he put you down, his arms coming around you and pulling you closer.

“Thought I surprise you,” you smiled at him, and gave a quick peck on his lips. “And also, there is something I brought for you,” you held up the little package in your hand, wrapped carefully in purple wrapping paper with a little bow on it.

“A present? For me?” he asked, completely taken aback by the sudden box between his hands.

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“You’ll see,” his gaze was full of curiosity, but it was also filled with suspicion. “Come on, open it!” you whispered excitedly, studying every micro expression on his face. His hand moved slowly, trying to find where the paper ended. When he was still searching for it after two minutes you let out a breathy chuckle. “Pedro, you can tear it, you know.”

“It’s just wrapped so nicely.”

“You’re so cute,” he laughed, and he finally teared the wrapping paper, but careful to not to destroy the little bow. He held the box in his hand and finally lifted the lid. He still couldn’t see anything because you made sure to cover the onesie and one of the tests. He looked up at you, unsure, but you just encouraged him to go on. So, he did. He lifted the paper, and when he saw what was inside, his expression faltered, the smile fading from his face and his posture went rigid. He didn’t say anything just stared.

Minutes rolled like this, and you started to doubt that this was a good idea. Maybe he didn’t want children after all. Maybe he changed his mind and wants to concentrate more on his work and projects. Maybe he thought you were just joking, and this was just a bad one. Maybe… Maybe… The possibilities started to flood your mind one by one, making it hard to breath. And then, it was gone. He pulled you into his arms, his hold tightening around you, his forehead pressed against yours.

“You’re… Are you really… Are you pregnant?” his voice was trembling as he spoke, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Yes. We’re going to be parents, Pedro,” you felt your cheeks get wet by your tears and he quickly reached up to wipe them away. His hand was shaking by the information his brain just processed.

“Jesus, carino,” his lips crashed into yours, and you could hear the cheers and claps erupting around you. But in that moment, it was only the three of you, completely ready to start a new chapter in your lives. You could feel his hand travel down to your still flat stomach, and you smiled into the kiss. He pulled back, looking down to the place where his hand was resting, and the words stumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Ya te amo más de lo que puedo explicar y te voy a cuidar siempre, lo prometo.”

“Hm, that was a lot. What did you say?” he looked into your eyes and told you the exact same words, this time in English.

“I already love you more than I can explain and I’ll always take care of you, I promise.”

“You’re already gone for them,” he picked up the onesie from the box and held it out in front of him.

“Wait until they’re born,” you laughed and leaned into his side while you both walked out of the set and into his trailer. Inside he put down the box, onesie still in hand and you could see the question building behind his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Can I… Would it be okay if I post picture of this?” he held up the little fabric, unsure if you would agree to his idea. You just gave him a nod, and he lit up like a little child on Christmas Day.

—-—

That night you were laying beside him on the little bed of his trailer, him insisting on keeping you close to him. He was already asleep, the day draining him completely, his hand laying flat across your stomach, and you were scrolling through Instagram when you saw his post and the comments below it. As you were reading them, your eyes grew heavy and you finally fell asleep with a little smile on your face.

This was just the beggining.

We are waiting for you, little Pascal 💖

@softpedroposts: He’s going to be the most loving dad in the world, I already know it.

@plssteponmepedro: A baby?? You’re reproducing?? Sir I’m gonna need a week to process this.

@pedrosbabyslay: congrats papa!!! manifesting health, happiness & soft baby curls 🍼

@womb4pascal: that could’ve been ME carrying your child I’m not ok

@marriedtohiminmyhead: YOU DESERVE THIS PEDRO 🧸

@letmeliveinurpocket: that onesie is smaller than my will to live

@fathermaterialconfirmed: the dilf arc has BEGUN

[no-144444]

walk away happy- m.verstappen

꩜summary: max and you are on the rocks, despite the rock on your finger. he comes back from bahrain and he doesn't have answers, so you don't wait for them

꩜pairing: max verstappen x fem! reader

Max really didn’t want to go home. Bahrain was shit, and he was exhausted, but back home… well, he wasn’t sure if you were still there, to put it gently. 

And he knew he was being a dick. He knew he was hurting your feelings and he did it anyway, because of course he did. He’s Max Verstappen and for some reason he feels the need to push away anyone who loves him, the second things get hard again. And the off-season had been magical. He’d fucking proposed! You’d forgiven him for his awful behaviour during last season, and you’d accepted him as your life partner, and he was more than happy. 

How did he fuck it all up in less than a month? 

He opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside. It was quiet. The lights were off. He gulped. He left his suitcases at the door and started his tentative search. Living room was clear, kitchen was clear, his office was clear, your office was clear, both bathrooms were clear-

He found you curled up in bed, your glasses still on your face and a book in your hand. He chuckled lightly, moving the book to your side table, not before dog-earring the page. He carefully took your glasses off and placed them on the book, and he pulled the covers over you. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe you’d be less annoyed when you woke up. He stared at the scene in front of him, and he couldn’t help but feel that something was missing from your bedside table. 

The wedding planner. Fuck. 

He walked through the house as he went about his nightly activities in search of it. As he ate his dinner, he looked around the apartment for it. While he brushed his teeth he checked your car. 

Nothing. And his chest tightened. 

Despite his anxiety around the planner, he fell to sleep quickly. He always did beside you. 

You felt him before you saw him. His hands on your waist, his breath on your neck. You could’ve sworn you could still smell the champagne on his skin. 

You removed his hands as best you could, and quietly got up and out of bed. He woke up when he noticed how cold the bed was. 

There you were, sitting in the living room, a cup of tea in hand, your book in your other. And you were quiet. No waking him up with a kiss. No cuddling before the day started. No begging him to make you a cup of tea before you got up. No music playing as your day started.

Just sad, suffocating silence. 

“I’m sorr-” he started. 

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, not bothering to turn your attention to him. “I was being dramatic, it’s not a big deal.” 

‘Not a big deal’? This was your wedding, how was it not a big deal? He cautiously sat beside you. “Well, I’m still sorry,” he admitted, turning to you. You stayed with your head in your book. “I was being an ass and I’m sorry I made you less excited about it.”

Again, you just shrugged, and stared at him (finally). Though, it was that thousand yard, you’ve hurt me, stare that he hates so much. “It’s nothing. It’s just a wedding.” 

‘Just a wedding’. Wow. He really fucked this up, didn’t he? “Schat,” he took your hand in his, forcing you to give him your attention. “It’s not just a wedding, it’s our wedding, and I care about it. I’m sorry I was being mean.” 

You shrugged again. “It’s fine Max, I don’t care,” you huffed, turning back to your book. You very clearly cared, and he had no idea what to do. “Let’s just forget it.”

“The wedding or the fight?” he mused and you rolled your eyes. 

“Whatever you want,” you scoffed. His entire body tensed. What the fuck did that mean? ‘Whatever he wanted’? He wanted you to be happy, not be upset with him, he wanted- “Just go do some sim work or something, I have work today-”

“We need to talk about this,” he sighed and again, you scoffed. 

“What would that even do, Max? It’s not going to reverse anything you said or make me feel any less of a burden to you, so what would it solve? Please tell me,” your words were sharp, cutting into the ache in his chest, making it hurt worse. 

“You’re not a burden to me,” he shook his head. “You never are.”

“Exactly, I’m just your punching bag,” you met his eyes. Yours were cold. Calculated. Unknown. His were pleading. Insecure. Scared. 

He sighed. “I’m sorry-”

“Yeah, you’re always fucking sorry Max. Always sorry,” you chuckled, but it wasn’t funny. It was hurt. It was pain. It was a reflection of exactly what he did to you. “I’ll organise it on my own, it’s fine. Just… you didn’t have to be so mean about it. Saying all my ideas were stupid or silly.”

He sat there, still. “I was upset at the car-”

“But you took it out on me,” you shot back. “You always fucking take it out on me.”

“I know,” he nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. “I know I do. And it’s not fair.” 

“You always say that,” your voice was thick with emotion. “But I genuinely don’t think you believe it-”

“Of course I believe it!” 

“Then why do you still treat me like shit?!” you shouted back, tears falling down your cheeks. He didn’t have an answer. You waited for one. “Here,” you threw him your engagement ring. “No more headaches.” 

Neither of you walked away happy. You still loved him, and he knew he’d never be complete without you. But sometimes breaking up is the best thing to do.

navigation for my blog :)

redbull & vcarb masterlist

[starryjake]

revenge | s.j

in which you get your revenge on jake after the time he overstimulated you with a vibrator.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: sub jake, use of sex toys (vibrator), overstimulation, drooling and crying kinda, cumming multiple times, kinda bondage (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was so pretty. absolutely exhausted jake who just wanted to cuddle with you and go to sleep was too, too pretty.

you just had to have your fun with him.

besides, he should’ve seen it coming. he’d done the same thing to you last week.

you were tired from a long day of work and classes and jake thought it was the perfect time to absolutely torture you with a vibrator. he made you cum so many times, you’d lost count, but you were so oversensitive that it hurt.

that night, you couldn’t wait to get your revenge.

and then it was time: when jake was so sleepy and dazed, bound to go along with what you say until he would realize what was happening.

“baby,” he said softly as you started nipping his jawline, clearly trying to get his attention. “i’m too sleepy.”

“i know,” you mumbled, your lips pressed against his neck, “but i wanna have some fun.”

jake looked down at you, his sweet, sweet girl. he never wanted to deny you of the things you wanted, even when he was as tired as he was.

“i just don’t know if i can do anything, sweetheart,” he said. “you can hump me or ride my thigh if you want. just don’t be mad if i fall asleep.”

“no, jake,” you whined, trailing your hand down his bare torso. “you need to have some fun with me too.”

you grabbed his cheek and attached your lips to his before he could even realize you were doing it. he instantly melted into the kiss, sighing against your lips and bringing his hands up to your hair.

“so needy,” he mumbled against your mouth.

he couldn’t see it since his eyes were closed, but you rolled your eyes. you were needy, sure. needy to see him get what was coming for him.

testing, you dragged your hand down to cup his bulge, feeling if he was hard yet. you weren’t surprised to find that he was. it never took him very long, even when he insisted he was too tired.

you stroked your hand up and down his clothed erection for a minute, getting him worked up enough that he would actually want to cum and take back what he said about being too tired.

you knew he was at that point when you pulled away from him entirely and he pouted at you, his facial expression asking why you stopped.

saying nothing, you reached into the bedside table drawer and pulled out the fully charged bullet vibrator he’d used on you last week. jake’s face remained expressionless, not catching on to what was going on. he really was tired.

you set it on the bed and went back over to jake, pulling his pants down to his knees. he’d forgone underwear since he was just going to sleep, his cock springing out and slapping against his stomach. he was fully hard, his tip a light pink color and drooling a bit of pre cum.

for a moment there, distracted by the sight of his dick, you forgot all about your plan for the vibrator. you wrapped your hand around his shaft and started slowly jerking him off, watching his face contort with pleasure.

it was only when you felt him twitch in your grip that you remembered your mission.

you let go of him, much to his displeasure, picking the vibrator back up. he watched you turn it on, the humming sound of it suddenly filling your shared bedroom.

“what are you doing?” he whined, lolling his head to the side. “just make me cum and let me go to sleep.”

you scoffed. he was such a brat, it only made you want to use it on him even more.

“i will make you cum,” you assured. “just close your eyes.”

“i’ll fall asleep if i close ‘em,” he said.

“you won’t,” you assured him.

he sighed and closed his eyes, immediately becoming more relaxed. his shoulders slumped and his facial features softened.

you didn’t waste any time and brought the little pink vibrator right to the tip of his leaking cock.

jake jolted in shock, his eyes flying open.

“what the hell?” he almost yelled. “what are you doing?”

“having fun,” you answered.

he reached out to grab your wrist but you stopped him with a menacing glare.

“try to stop me and i’ll tie your hands up,” you warned.

“y/n, please,” jake huffed, staring down at you running the vibrator around his tip. “you’re not using your vibrator on me.”

“you did it to me first,” you reminded him. “you used it on me until i was shaking and begging you to stop. and i’ve been thinking about getting back at you everyday since.”

“i’m sorry!” jake cried out, tossing his head back in either frustration or pleasure, or both.

he couldn’t deny that it felt good. for such a small vibrator, the pressure was there. he could feel it intensely pulsating against his tip, pushing out more and more beads of clear precum. you’d only just begun and he was already so messy.

“i’m sure,” you mumbled, gathering some of the precum with your other hand.

jake bit his lip, feeling a warmth spread in his stomach and he knew he was already close. it hadn’t been very long but his sensations were heightened from his exhaustion.

“i’m close,” he told you.

you didn’t stop or slow down. in fact, you ran the vibrator down from his tip to his shaft and back up, his balls tightening from the unfamiliar sensation. his back arched in a way that was so pretty, your eyes widening from how affected he was by the vibrator.

“go ahead,” you said. “go ahead and cum for me.”

with that, his jaw fell slack and he groaned loudly as ropes of cum spurted out from his tip, which was a slightly darker pink than it’d been when you started.

“mmm, fuck,” he moaned, head tossed back and hips thrusting up slightly to ride out his high. “oh, yeah.”

a sheen of sweat covered his chest and his rosy cheeks. his chest rose and fell rapidly with little gasps of air. he came for longer than you imagined he would considering you’d only just started, but you assumed it was because he’d never had a vibrator used on him before.

you turned the vibrator off for a moment, taking in the state of jake before you. a puddle of his cloudy cum coated his stomach and his eyes were shut. his chest rose and fell less rapidly, telling you that he was finally calming down.

“jake?” you said after a minute.

he hummed, his eyes still closed. it was clear he was right on the brink of falling asleep.

to keep him from doing so, you turned the vibrator back on and held it against the underside of his cock below his tip, his most sensitive spot.

he jolted, eyes flying open like they had before.

“oh, fuck,” he moaned, grabbing your wrist to try and stop you again. “please. i can’t.”

“you can,” you assured him, holding the vibrator and his cock all in your one hand.

“please,” he cried. “it’s too much. i’m too sensitive, y/n.”

“you’re okay,” you responded, thinking about how sensitive you were when he did the same thing to you.

“oh my god,” he nearly sobbed. “‘m cumming.”

it was so, so quick. only a minute in and he was already shooting out more ropes of cum, landing on top of the puddle that was already there, creating an even bigger mess of himself.

he whimpered, entirely shoving your hand off of him to give himself a break.

“what’d i say?” you asked, demeanor darkening.

“you’re not tying me up,” he declared, like he was in charge.

“wanna bet?”

jake’s big brown eyes widened, watching as you reached into the drawer again to pull out the silk rope. you certainly weren’t afraid to use it on him, especially if he was going to be pushing your hands off.

“don’t,” he begged. “please.”

“then stop trying to push me off,” you said sternly.

“but it’s too much,” he whined.

he was already keeping a close eye on your hand gripping the vibrator, weary for when were going to bring it back to his cock again. it almost made you want to laugh.

“you can do it,” you said. “you can be good for me, yeah?”

he bit his lower lip, hanging his head.

you brought the vibrator back to his cock, turning it onto the next highest setting from before. his poor cock jake gasped, instinctively grabbing onto your wrist again despite what you’d just told him.

“jake,” you sighed, growing frustrated.

“i’m sorry!” he said, immediately retreating his hand.

you set the vibrator aside and grabbed the silk rope. you grabbed his hands and pushed them together, tying the rope around them tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to touch you again.

jake had a little pout on his face like a child who’d just gotten scolded after getting in trouble. it filled your body with warmth, how cute he was.

“i just wanna make you feel good,” you reasoned, pressing the vibrator onto his slit.

he hissed, pushing his hips up. his abs clenched, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face from the intensity of the vibrator and from already cumming twice.

“i know, baby,” he said while exhaling shakily. “it’s just…a lot.”

“but i know you can do it,” you cooed, dragging the vibrator down a vein on his dick.

he clenched his jaw, the mixture of pain and pleasure so overwhelming that it was clouding his mind, slowly turning him dumb.

“i can’t,” he mumbled pathetically. “it feels so fucking good though.”

“i know, honey,” you cooed softly.

you weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him prettier. his eyes were glazed over, his cheeks and ears a bright pink, and completely covered in his own cum. you wanted to ruin him, make a mess out of your tired boyfriend.

he tried to squeeze the bedsheets, but he was so weak. he couldn’t express his pleasure other than desperate moans.

he didn’t even warn you the next time he came. it just started coming out out his red, used tip, drooling out slowly in comparison to the sharp ropes that were spurting out before.

you were were pretty sure you saw a tear a slip down his face and were certain that he was drooling. he moaned shamelessly, so out of it that he felt like he was dreaming. he’d never felt so fucked out in his life.

you kept the vibrator pressed against him while he came and didn’t remove it this time to let him calm down.

“oh my god,” he slurred. “baby, pl—oh fuck. i’m cumming again.”

less than 30 seconds than cumming before and he was already cumming again, which you didn’t even know was possible.

his load was smaller, but his reaction was bigger. he threw his head back, exposing his pretty neck. his entire body tensed and the prettiest, most desperate moans and whimpers came tumbling out past his lips, swollen from biting and drooling.

“fuck, i can’t stop,” he moaned.

you watched him, feeling the wetness pool in your panties from how beautiful of a sight it was.

the veins in his body throbbed, his muscles clenched, and he just a beautiful mess. his cock was drenched in his own cum, the vibrator slipping against him.

you caressed his leg, removing the vibrator from his spent cock. he let out a groan of relief from you finally pulling it away, of giving him a moment to breathe.

his eyes were closed, his entire body limp. you lifted his hands in order to untie the silk rope, setting his hands free.

you sat up on your knees, caressing his face until he opened his eyes again, looking up at you.

“you okay?” you asked, your thumb brushing his cheek.

“mhm,” he mumbled, even more tired than he was before. “that was fucking…insane.”

“was it too much?” you wondered, grabbing some tissues from the box on the nightstand to start cleaning him up.

“yeah,” he said, “in the best way possible.”

you chuckled, running your fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it out of his face.

“go to sleep, okay?” you said.

“but can we cuddle?” he asked sweetly.

“yes, we can cuddle,” you responded.

“and can i be little spoon?” he asked.

“yes, jake.”

-

screaming. shoutout to the anon who requested this, i loved the idea so much! sub jake just….don’t get me started actually!