koku

“mn? can’t sleep?” he replies, voice a little groggy, like he was almost asleep.

you nod. it’s so difficult to sleep. your mind is always so noisy. looking for the next distraction. or telling you you’re better off gone.

you hug him tighter. hide your face in his chest.

“i want to sleep. why can’t i fall asleep?” you ask, voice soft and resigned. the tears soak his shirt a little. you’re so quiet when you cry.

he slowly pets your head, holding you close, “don’t cry, baby, i’m here. i won’t let you go.”

it’s difficult. it’s difficult to not cry. it’s difficult to do anything at all.

you don’t respond to him. so he hums. sings gently, soft sounds that hopefully will lull you to slumber. even if it breaks him to feel your hand clutch into his shirt so tightly as you sniffle.

he doesn’t stop petting you and humming, hoping the vibrations of his voice soothe you even just a little bit.

he loves you. he loves you so much.

“it’s okay, baby. everything will be okay. i’m here. i’m always here.”

Day 30

Yapping

summary: in which you tell the lads boys that you haven’t shaved.

ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb

notes: MDNI / NSFW (obvi), they’re all eaters!!!!!! xavier is silly, zayne has an attitude, rafayel is dramatic, sylus #takesnobullshit, and caleb is strange…mentions of sex/sexual acts, fem terms used (!!!), that’s it (i think)

p.s. this is a silly spur of the moment post so if it’s awful ummmm kill me maybe!!!

a/n: i am not the type to care like At All about body hair in any capacity so i hope this was somewhat entertaining LOL. body hair no body hair anything WTV it’s all natural and all real do whatever you want ok love you bye…ty for reading (- -)(_ _)

Sometimes, he has to remind himself to blink, especially when he’s with you. You’ve mentioned it once or twice in passing that his gaze is… intense. Staring at you like he’s trying to memorise every single little detail, from the curve of your lips to how many strands of hair dip from your fringe-

Rafayel would just laugh then, a dry sound. Before he follows up with a snarky little quip about how mesmerised he is by you. But then on, he reminds himself to blink. Slowly, carefully, like a beast trying to appear harmless.

It’s hard for a deity to understand how a human feels. But masquerading as one comes a lot easier.

Being spanked by Rafayel

Usually its him being spanked but I'm like, don't think that means he's not just as capable.

Plus he'd be coloring your ass one of his favorite shades!

y'know what, i was about to post that with rafayel at first then remembered i actually wrote zayne spanking us so i was having my own lil flashbacks🫦 but anyWAY YEAH so, i'll raise you too and say.....

🔞tw: spanking

rafayel is definitely a pussy spanker, first and foremost. yeah just imagine how smug and insufferable he'll be because you're so soaked through that his slaps over your drenched pussy echo so loudly with in the room with each slap he gives to it... damn

and because you'll deny at first that you love it, he'll slide a lil punishment on the table and have you bent over his lap and alternate his slaps between your pussy and your ass cheeks, taunting and teasing which one turns pinker and which one turns redder as he slaps faster or harder

he'll even call it a win if you cry a little, until everything turns too much to handle and pain and pleasure spike through you, so you don't even just cum, but even soak his pants all the way through as you squirt over his lap... mhm, best believe he'll chuckle so much as you tremble and grab at his hand to have him ease his slaps... only for him to slip his fingers inside you and pump them ridiculously fast

“What’s this for?”

You look over to see Rafayel curiously poking at the new blanket on your couch that you recently bought. “Why is it so heavy?”

“It’s a weighted blanket. It’s supposed to help with stress and sleep.”

“How?”

“By simulating a hug, I think.”

Rafayel goes quiet, staring at the fabric for a long moment before looking back at you.

“...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

-> daddy caleb taking care of his exhausted baby

You didn’t hear him come in.

You were curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest, wrapped in a blanket that didn’t quite reach the ache beneath your skin. Your head was pounding, body trembling from exhaustion that sleep never seemed to fix. You felt frayed—like threads pulled too tight, about to snap.

Then… warmth. A hand on your ankle. Gentle pressure.

“There you are Pips,” Caleb murmurs, voice low and soothing like distant thunder on a rainy night. “Didn’t I tell you to call me when you feel like this?”

You open your mouth, but no words come. Just a little shake of your head. You don’t want to cry. You’re too tired to even cry.

He sighs, not annoyed—concerned. He kneels beside you and cups your face in one big hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek like you’re made of glass.

“You’re running yourself into the ground again, Angel. Always trying to be so strong.” You can’t help it. A little sob slips out—and he melts. Not into panic, not into pity—into purpose. In one swift motion, you’re in his arms. Picked up, held tight, carried like you weigh nothing but everything.

He sits down with you in his lap, blanket and all, wrapping you in his warmth. His chest is solid beneath your cheek. His heartbeat is steady, grounding. His hands roam—slow, reassuring, firm. One at your back, the other behind your head.

“You don’t have to hold it together with me,” he says quietly, breath brushing your temple. “You can fall apart, and I’ll still be right here. I’ll always be right here.”

You cling to him, and he lets you. Holds you tighter. Presses kisses to your hair, your forehead, your jaw. Soft, possessive, like he’s reminding you: you’re mine. You’re safe.

And then his voice—gravelly and low, close to your ear.

“Next time, you call me. You understand? I don’t care what time it is or what I’m doing—if my girl’s hurting, I drop everything. Because you come first. Always.”You nod, tears finally falling. Not out of pain—but relief.

Because with Caleb… you’re not alone.

You’re loved.

And most of all, you’re held.

He feels it—the way your body starts to soften, breath slowing against his chest. That quiet surrender. That precious unraveling. And he waits. Holds you steady in it.

“There she is,” he murmurs, voice lower now, darker. “My girl, finally letting go.”

You shiver—not from the cold this time, but from him. The way he speaks it like a promise and a claim all at once.

His hand slides up your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You give and give until you break, don’t you?” He tilts your face to meet his gaze—those eyes like storm clouds right before the downpour. “But that stops here.”

He leans in close. “You’re mine. And I don’t let what’s mine burn out.”

You try to speak, but he hushes you with a kiss—just at the corner of your lips. Not quite giving it all yet. Teasing. Controlling. Patient. “No more running on empty, Princess. No more pushing past your limits while pretending you’re fine.”

His hand moves again, sliding under the blanket, splaying against your bare waist. “Next time, I feel you slipping, I won’t wait for permission. I’ll take you. I’ll pull you into my lap, pin you down if I have to, and remind you whose you are.”

Your breath catches.

And he smiles. That knowing, wicked little tilt of his lips that says: You’re mine to ruin gently. And I will. But then he kisses your forehead again, so soft it nearly breaks you.

“Not tonight, though.” His voice gentles again. “Tonight, I hold you until you fall asleep. But you remember this feeling—because tomorrow, when you’re stronger, I’m going to make sure you never forget who keeps you safe.”

And just like that, you’re wrapped in both fire and shelter.

His arms, his voice, his claim on you—

Home.

He feels the shift in you—the way your heartbeat begins to slow against his chest, your fingers loosening where they were curled into his shirt. Your body still pressed close, but no longer trembling. Just melting.

Caleb exhales softly, his breath brushing along your temple like a sigh of pride. His voice rumbles against your skin, low and tender. “That’s it. Just like that, baby. Let me take it from here.”

You hum something—a faint little sound, barely audible. Maybe a thank you. Maybe his name. You don’t even know anymore. You’re floating now, somewhere between sleep and him, the two starting to feel like the same thing.

He adjusts you in his lap just enough so he can lean back against the couch, one arm cradling your head, the other wrapped tight around your waist. And then his fingers start tracing soft patterns over your skin—up and down your spine, over your arm, along your side. Mindless, loving touches. The kind that say, “You don’t have to do anything. Just be.”

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” he whispers into your hair. “This soft. This calm. You were made to be held like this.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. One last bit of tension leaving your chest. His warmth, his voice, the strength of his arms—it’s everything you didn’t know you needed until now. And then, the final tether snaps. Sleep begins to pull you under—but this time, it’s not from exhaustion or desperation.

It’s safe. It’s soft. It’s him.

You shift once more, cheek nuzzling into the base of his throat, breath evening out. He feels it. Smiles to himself. “There she goes,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over your forehead. “My good girl. Finally resting.”