#it might just be stress and anxiety making me sick

[saltpillarlicker]

the camarilla should be bad guys. this isn't an original take, but it's one i hold pretty strongly, and it's a pretty core design ethos of the game i gm.

as presented, the camarilla is a beautiful elite. it's run by ventrue for the most part, who, while rich, privileged and callous, are often shown to be true believers in the sect. the camarilla is the last tide of defense against violent, depraved extremists like the sabbat, and while some anarchs might hold moral superiority, come on, do they really have a chance? the camarilla might not be the best, as presented, but it's the best we've got, so it's worth it, at least for the moment. right? i took a little bit of an issue with this. i've always thought vtm, for a game that purports to be punk, is a pretty status-quo-ey kind of game and setting, where the entrenched, openly exploitative establishment is shown to be the best chance against scary hordes (among other issues i have with it). so i decided to spin things a little.

in the game i run, the camarilla is nasty. not merely "bad because they're vampires," but nasty. in the city i run my game in, the camarilla is dreary, sterile, trashy, faceless, broken by design, run by and riddled with the absolute worst sorts of people, not merely repulsive morally but thoroughly tasteless, actually miserable to be around. the elite of the city are hideous, tacky, BMW-driving yuppie trash, the kind of people who hold immeasurable power but lock their doors when minorities walk by their car. they've got the delicate touch of a jackhammer; they swallow neighborhoods overnight and sic hit squads on the "squatters", seize their assets and rush clumsy through the liquidation so they can set up overpriced low-tier feeding grounds as quickly as they can, all while they lock down on feeding outside said grounds "for the safety of the masquerade". speaking of masquerade, they enforce that with their overbloated force of violent yes-men, who are set loose on undesirables and out-of-favor sect members, disappearing people and ripping out memories left and right - they're not efficient, or even effective, but they're not supposed to be; their only real job is to intimidate and browbeat the city. the sabbat is used like a tool; desperate sorts eking a living, selling out false-flagging and goon-squadding for the enemy just to get by - that is, when they're not the sickos, perverts and serial killers given the pass because they make a great excuse to scare the populace and justify further bloat of the camarilla's law enforcement.

the camarilla is exactly as i imagine it'd be, exactly the sort of system put in place by the sort of people who'd get embraced in the upper class of vampire society. it's the same sort of broken-by-design system that exists in the real world, in countless places across the globe. on the nose? yeah, sure. hell, i lean into it. there's a sick sort of undercurrent to see that undead society is broken just as bad as ours - even in death, you don't get to escape the bullshit. lord knows what i'd be doing if i was running wraith.

the camarilla are not the main villains of my campaign. it's hard to say there even is one singular villain, due to the setting-first way i design the campaign. but the camarilla is at the heart of vampire; it's the most important faction of the game, and all the other factions are informed by their opposition to it. so i had to go big and nasty with it, yeah? the tower's shadow looms hard. the anxiety it inflicts on my players is palpable at times, the we're-so-fucked stress that bubbles up whenever it comes up in conversation. it's a sleeping dragon that the players keep poking, and everyone - including me - is dreading the night when it actually gets up.

it's a nice change of pace from what the books put forth. try it sometime

[phagodyke]

I slept rly deeply last night even tho it took me a while to get to sleep but I think that was bc I had acid reflux and I'd been playing videogames too late not anything else.... still only got 6 hrs but doing pretty okay all things considered 😚

[tacitusauxilium]

Honestly? I think I need a sedative and/or wine with the week I’ve had so far.

My mom has been in the hospital since Monday. She had an artery on her right side that had 99% blockage to her heart. They told her if she went to work Monday night or mowed the yard, she would be dead. The thought of her mowing the yard with my son in the house and her dead in the yard terrifies the shit out of me. So, she finally comes home tomorrow since she got her stent put in today to clear the blockage—through her groin, instead of her arm, cause she can’t make anything easy for herself. Then again, the smoking she’s done for 40 + years is finally catching up to her. If that doesn’t wake her up, idk what will.

Then my husband is in the ER today because he was having chest pains. Work wasn’t letting him go back to work (his HR was too high) and then that turned into an ambulance ride—turns out it was anxiety. The man was taking the memories he had with his father and turning them around and experiencing them again. Cause his dad died in a hospital and he hates hospitals—moms in a hospital, so on and forth. Not fun being alone with my kid who wouldn’t nap unless he was in my arms. I didn’t eat until 3pm today cause I was so drained. And also super not fun when the service desk lady asked if anyone could watch my son while I see my husband. I even said “my moms in the cath lab getting a stent put in and my husbands in the ER—I DON’T have anyone to help me” and smiled with my head turned. 😒

So, I’ve been off for two days for work and just having panic attacks over the stress of everything this week. I don’t get how my husband can play video games and relax while I’m laying in bed and trying to stop myself from being numb from everything. At least we will all be home together tomorrow.

[girl-bateman]

Blood-work came back fine which either means I really do have a mysterious deadly illness OR its my mental health that's fucking up my physical health. Now my dilemma for my upcoming appointment .. do I mention how neurotically devastated I've been feeling these last months, knowing the doctor might be relieved to blame it all on hysteria instead of doing more testing ? Or do I just... not say anything about that.. lol

[bi-writes]

ok but soulmate au with ghost but it's the fucking opposite of rainbows and sunshine. (18+)

you share his trauma. his stress. his anxiety. you do not know who he is, and yet you know the pain of a thousand punches because it's the only feeling he has ever given you. you know the grueling ache of abandonment and the terrible neglect of abuse and the disgusting amalgamation of all your worst nightmares before you even turn 20. everything that he gives you feels aggressive, like it burns, and he only ever gives you reprieve for so long until you just feel it all over again.

it makes you tired. it makes you sick. at first, as a girl, all you wanted to do was comfort him. you wanted to know who he was so you could kiss the cigarette burns that you feel and soak up the blood you know he bleeds.

but as you age, you begin to hate him. you hate him because he does this to you, he hurts you, doesn't he know that he's hurting you? doesn't he know that everything he feels, you feel tenfold, doesn't he know that the terror and the horror of everything he witnesses weighs down your chest, makes you feel like you're drowning over and over and over again?

for a few years into your adulthood, everything is quiet. you feel little except the ache in his back he never tends to, the creak of his knee joints that he refuses to stretch out. you wish you knew him so you could scold him for it, but you curse at a ghost. sometimes you think about doing something to get back at him--you think about carving a FUCK YOU into your arm, about throwing yourself in front of a bus just so he can fucking understand that his entire life is one fucked-up cycle of pain and misery and horror, but you can't bring yourself to do it.

you can't hurt him. you just can't.

and then, the real pain begins. it brings you to your knees, this pain. you scream, you wail, because it feels like you're being carved from the inside-out. your face burns. your chest heaves. you feel like your ribs are breaking, you can't breathe, you claw at the invisible wounds that your soulmate must be wearing, and you beg him to stop, you beg him to let me go--just fucking die already--please, please, please--

those weeks haunt you. the torture he endures, it is branded to you. you wear no scars, and you never lost any blood, but the phantom flesh that you know is gone follows you in your sleep and never shuts up. it talks, it snarls, it eats at your insides. even when he heals, you are never the same. you wake up from nightmares that you know you share with him. you look over your shoulder for the predators you know he has encountered, and you cry yourself to sleep over the loss of something that you can't even decipher because you have no idea who he is or what he buried to feel this way inside.

he's sick. he's twisted. he's a walking corpse, he has no redeemable qualities, he is selfish and mean and cruel, and you hate him, and if it wasn't for the pain that you would feel, the first thing you would do when you saw him is drive something right through his heart to finally stop the undying infection he spreads to everything that he touches.

you know it is him when you finally meet him. you would know him anywhere; you’d know him just by the scars alone who he is because you remember what it felt like when he got them. when you eye the sleeve of tattoos along his left arm--the fucked, shitty, sunburnt art that made it impossible for you to finish your university exams. the faded, grey circles that line the other, ones you recognize being from the burning cigarettes that you would smell when you closed your eyes. and when he removes his mask briefly, you recognize the scar that cuts above his lip and strikes through his eye--that one left you reeling on the bathroom floor particularly loudly. you thought he might be blind if it wasn't for seeing the darkness of both of his eyes.

you start to cry. you start to cry because as soon as he realizes who you are, as soon as you see that flicker of knowing flash across his eyes, all of the hatred and the anger and the poison that plagued you for all this time vanishes. everything you fought so hard to feel, all the misery you wanted to bestow upon him for making your life a living hell, it's gone.

because the universe is cruel, the universe has done what it has done, and it has made this singular person just for you, and against everything you believe, you know that you love him, and you hate yourself for it, and you hate the universe, too.

you have endured. but maybe you endured so he didn't have to. maybe you endured so that he could have this, the feeling that he feels right now, that feeling of sudden relief.

he slides a large hand over his chest, flinching slightly. he blinks, understanding suddenly that he's feeling your joy, your elation. when you shuffle your way over to him, breaching the conversation the men around him are having, you ignore their confused stares as you fling yourself into his chest.

ghost forces you against him, trapping you to him. he practically chokes, tangling a gloved hand into your hair, and you sob into the warm skin of his neck as he hoists you into his arms, into his lap. you don't pay attention to the curious voices around you, you just bury yourself into him and cry. his body is the evidence of all that has happened to him, and you aren't angry anymore because you're relieved.

he's real. he's alive. he's here. he's okay.

when you pull back to look up at him, you blink away the tears that are falling fast down your face. he stares down equally as intensely, drinking in the sight of those big, wet eyes. when he smooths a big hand down your face, he grumbles when he realizes what you are, how you know him.

he never realized this was what he and his soulmate shared. you in your life had never felt pain like he had--he had no idea what he was doing to you. he had no idea what you were surviving at the same time.

he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours, and your lips tremble as you cup his cheeks and hold him close.

it feels wrong to feel this kind of comfort, but he does anyways. he thinks, maybe, that perhaps the only reason he survived was because of you.

because there was someone else, far away, that loved him enough to keep him breathing. even when he thought it was over.

[snubbullls]

.

[martian-astro10]

Astrology observations - Part 4 (use whole signs)

🌟 Moon in 4th is one of my favourite placements. These people usually have a good career, like an emotionally fulfilling one. They won't stay in a job that doesn't make them happy. Their mom can help them choose a career or give them interview tips.

🏮Mars in 2nd house people are so lucky when it comes to earning money, it's like, they get a new money making opportunity just when they're on their last penny. They're also not afraid to get their hands dirty and are willing to do almost anything, very hard working people. They're also the ones managing all the money in their family.

🌟 Mercury in 8th house people are the ones with a "sexy brain" like the WAY their mind works, are so good at analysing arguments and coming up with the best possible solution. Good debating skills. These people have great manifestation skills, I have a list of 100 + incidents, it's honestly a little scary. Can also develop clairvoyant abilities if they work on it.

🏮I haven't met a single non religious, Sun in 9th house person in my life. Even if they're not that religious in their younger years, they will be when they get older. Always willing to help others even when they themselves are suffering, my mom has this, and.....it pisses me off so bad. The "put your own oxygen mask on first" advice is for you all. Stop helping people, be selfish, it's not your duty to make everyone else's life better. My mom doesn't listen, but maybe you all will.

🌟 Venus in 11th house is a placement that's really good from a business perspective. They're great at negotiations so that's helpful. They won't like doing a regular 9 to 5 job as it will suppress their freedom and creativity. They will open their own business pretty early on in life, in like late 20's or early 30's. Great architects and interior designers. I remember when I made the architecture and astrology post, a lot of people had this.

🏮I haven't seen anyone talk about this, but moon in 6th house people can be really good leaders, they're very helpful and kind and their ability to understand emotions makes them extremely likable. They have more of a people oriented leadership style. They focus on building strong relationship with their group members or employees. Also, why are you all always sick 😭? Prone to anxiety and stress and this leads to body pain and digestive issues. Please put your health first.

🌟 It's really funny how ALL my friends, every single one, has Venus in 1st. I would say that rather than us being pretty, we're just very likable. Even if they're introvert or shy, they have a communication style that makes other people want to talk to them. It's just an aura thing, tbh. Also, they're huge people pleasers and will do their best not to offend anyone, like even if a person is being annoying, they won't say anything. (Mars in 1st can change this)

🏮 Jupiter in 2nd house is not good for marriage but great for career and friendships. I know people with this who are still in contact with their pre school friends. Their friends will help them in their career as well. They're intelligent but they think they're not, and this makes them lose a lot of opportunities. Need to have a little bit of courage to succeed in life.

🌟 Sun in 12th house people probably had a painful childhood (more so than others), if mercury is with sun in 12th, then they write poems to express this pain. They're good writers, and can be lyricists, authors, script/play writers, etc. these people are physically weak. Might also not know who they are, as in, not aware of their own personality traits.

🏮Saturn in 12th house people lack confidence when they're young, but become more confident as they get older and learn to get out of their comfort zone. These people have better luck outside of their homeland. This is a good placement if you want to become a psychologist as it gives you the ability to properly analyse those with mental disorders. They also look aloof most of the time. This is another placement that is good in terms of writing skills, many famous authors have this (those who write sad stuff)

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[mochamadeleines]

Sweethearts and Sweet Dreams <3

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.” (6.4k words)

tags!! - 18+ modern au! Husband! Joel Miller, Wife! Reader, you guys are happy and in love!, mutual obsession if u squint, lots of exposition im so freaking sorry, pervert Joel if u squint, praise kink joel if you squint, dumbification if you squint, written for those with daddy issues lowkeeyyyyy, written with game joel in mind but could be hbo joel no problem!, lowk i combined the two in my mind, mentions of shy old man joel, housewife! reader (by choice), unspecified age gap but reader is like. thirty? and joels Like...55??, talk about joel taking medication for his anxiety, p in v sex, dirty talk, public sex, outdoor sex, joel has a kink for dresses because i said so? service top joel if you squint, pet names, a pinch of jealousy and possessiveness for fun, playful banter, mentions of maria and tommy and their baby with a made up name Lol, mentions of ellie and sarah (rip), mentions of readers past abusive relationships, talk about joel struggling with substance abuse/addiction and being hospitalized.....Im sure u can theorize why </3, lots of lore ill get into in another fic MAYBE *smirks*, flip flop in perspective, sometimes showing what joel is thinking or what reader is thinking blah blah

authors notes!! - hi there!!! im mocha and this is my first joel fic ever + my first fic posted to tumblr!! im really nervous cuz i havent written anything in months and ive never written joel before so please let me know if you like it!! id love to write more of this au for u guys if theres a demand for it...Thank u for reading!! also barely proof read im ngl. ive been staring at this fic all day im sick of itttt. p.s i dont usually write smut i also kinda do idfk Is this bad or am i tweaking

You step out of the house, morning sun soaking into the roots of your hair and the driveway beneath your feet. Theres a package youve been waiting for. 

You cant contain your grin as you wiggle it out of the hot prison that is your mailbox.

“What the hell are you doin’ out there barefoot?” Joel chastises you from the front door, leaning his elbow on the frame. Joel, your lovely husband of two years. Been together for five. And because of how hard he works, you have the privilege of being a stay at home wife. Some people think that sort of life is stifling, but youve never felt so free. No more jobs you hate, no more financial struggles. Just you, Joel, and your cat, Cement. He likes to pretend it isnt a totally hilarious name for a pet.

You were his first relationship in almost a decade, so it was a lot of work helping him unpack his anxieties about dating, and a lot of work for you to feel safe and unafraid. Honestly? Youve been mistreated by enough men to land you in the psychward.

But Joel never yells at you, he never breaks things when hes angry or threatens to hurt you. He might raise his voice every now and again, but its never because of something you did. Sometimes the stress of life is just too much. 

He works hard, he loves his daughter- daughters- and he would do anything to keep you happy. Whatever you say goes, he says. Even now, you hardly argue. Of course you have disagreements, or off days thatd lead to one of you being especially moody, but the both of you do your best to communicate.

Behind that rough exterior, is someone who just wants to be needed. 

You first met Joel at a youth center you volunteered at, he taught guitar, you taught arts and crafts. Joel says it was your smile and sense of humor that charmed him. It was his singing and southern accent for you.

Your favorite thing about Joel is how soft he gets around you. He says its because you make it easy to be soft. 

Joel was a shy lover at first. He would get nervous just kissing you, or holding your hand. While most people become intimate very early on in their relationship, you and Joel didnt do anything sexual for the first five months of you dated. Sure, you almost did, plenty of times, but he would get so overwhelmed and cut things short. You broke two of your vibrators during this era of your relationship. Embarassing.

You remember your first time very vividly. Joel had worked back to back doubles trying to meet a deadline, and on the final day, after having barely spoken to you for almost a week, you had shown up to his house, unannounced. You were wringing water out of your jacket when he swung the door open. 

“How-” Joel blinks a few times, stepping forward to examine the rainfall. “How long you been out here?”

“Not that long,” You lie and pick up the container you brought off the porch chair. Part of you had a hard time mustering up the courage to even knock on the door. Droplets of water cascade down your chin. “Hi, sorry. I know youre tired.”

He shakes his head, voice soft and warm. “S’fine. Now c’mon, youre gonna get sick.”

Youre seated at the little dining table next to the kitchen now, trying to let the sound of the rainfall ease your nerves.

Joel was quick to grab you a towel, and does the honors of drying your face and hair with it. “Why didnt you jus’ call me? Woulda gotten out of the shower faster if i knew you were gettin’ soaked out there like this.”

“I dunno, sorry.”

“An’ whatd i tell you about apologizin’ all the time?”

“Sor- Uh. Right. Okay.” You tighten your jaw. No more.

Joel moves behind you, now squeezing water out the ends of your hair. “Whas’ that?”

“Oh!-” You peel back the lid, showing it to him. “Old fashion cake donuts are your favorite right? I remember you saying you liked eating them with your coffee in the mornings so…I made these. Youve been working a lot lately and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel gingerly grasps the container from your hands, looking into it. Theyre a warm golden brown, outside evenly fried, and the sweet scent of them hits his nose right away.

“I was just gonna leave them on the doorstep and call you to tell you they were there, but I wanted to see you.”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows the dryness in his throat. Youre too good for him. 

“Thank you very much.” He presses a kiss to your damp hair. “Now, lets get you into some dry clothes.”

Joel gives you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to keep you modest while your clothes wash and dry. 

You wait patiently on his bed for the hot chocolate he promised you before you showered. Theres nothing to watch on the tv, so you just turn it off and reach for the lamp on his nightstand instead. 

He comes in quietly, and sets the mug down beside the lamp. You finally come into focus, clear as day even under the low lighting.

“You uh.. You look nice.”

You blink. “I look nice?”

“In my shirt.”

That gets a smile out of you. 

Joel tips his head towards the mug. “S’hot so, give it a few minutes. Dont want you burnin’ your mouth.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Hes sat beside you now and the two of you sit in silence for a while. Its not awkward, just the kind of silence where both of you want to say something but just.. Cant.

Joel unravels first. “Missed you, y’know. Just been tired.”

“I know.” Your voice wobbles, and Joels jaw tightens like hearing you sound so sad stings him. “I missed you, too.” 

He slides his hand over yours, giving it a squeeze. Its okay. 

“Hey Joel...Can I stay the night?” 

“Sure. Id really like that.”

While you drink your hot chocolate, you and Joel catch up. You both talk about work, and about your new found interest in baking. Joel teases you about your lack of cooking skills, you do the same. Youre both useless. 

When its time to climb into bed, neither of you can actually fall asleep. Joel rolls onto his side, away from you and the window. You follow, curling up like a little cat against his back. The sensation is nice for the both of you.

You speak up after a little while.

“Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He scoffs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Like I'd force you to leave after you brought me such a nice present.”

You let out a little giggle, “So if i didnt, youd kick me out?”

“Id think ‘bout it.”

You gasp, gently shoving at his back. “Thats mean…!”

“S’really not.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I poisoned them?.”

“Then itd jus' be a regular day of your cookin’ then.” Joel reminds you, lighthearted. Too many times where you left the shells in your eggs or burnt toast or left the bacon on the pan for too long.

“You cant get mad at me for my dark past when you made a perfectly good sirloin taste like horse leather.”

“Ugh. Dont remind me. That was like putting a one-hundred dollar bill into a paper shredder. How do either of us stay alive again?”

“Uh. Digiorno?”

“Digiorno.”

After a few moments, Joels rolling over again, and hes guiding your head to settle against his chest. Your arms wrap around him, and his arms around you. 

“Joel,” You whisper. He hums. “Im cold.”

“S’cause youre not wearin’ any pants.”

“And whos fault is that?”

“Still yours.”

“I was left out in the rain like a sad, sopping wet cat. One that was left in a box all alone with no family…” You pretend to sniffle. “Dont you feel bad for me?”

Joel sighs, not saying anything more except making sure the part of the comforter behind your back is tucked into your side so the cold air doesnt get in. When hes done, you do a little shimmy up his body, and throw your leg over his hip. Oh no.

Hes alert now. Very alert. Be normal. Joel hesitates, licking the dryness off his lips. “Uh. Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You push your face into his throat, cat-like, before settling down again. Hes like a radiator.

Actually scratch that, he cant be normal. 

“Darlin’.” He rasps, patting your back to get your attention.

“Mm?”

“Your leg. Move it.”

A few beats pass. “Why?”

“Because…” Wow,  he didnt think hed get this far. You shift forward and Joel lets out a quiet exhale through his nose, one that couldve been masked by the rain if you werent so close.

“Are you-”

“No! No. Its- Its not what you think-” He cant see your face in the darkness but he knows you feel the semi-hard struggling through the confines of his pants. Lame.

“Joel,” You say, soft. Your hands slide up his arm to cradle his jaw. Lightning flashes into the room, giving you a glimpse of Joels tight expression. He whispers your name back, just as soft.

“This is normal.” 

Its normal, it is! Except for the fact that you guys havent had sex yet. The stress of being intimate is too much, kills his boner in a blink. The longer he waits the worse the anxiety gets.

“I-I know.”

You place a hand on his chest, feeling it pound away like crazy through all the soft muscle.  

“Youve been taking your medication, right?”

Has he?

The silence of him thinking is proof enough. “Joel-”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes through the darkness .“I know, I know. Shoot, Im sorry. I just forget sometimes.”

“Its okay.” The pad of your thumb strokes the tops of his cheek, and you press a tender kiss to his mouth to soothe him.  “...Want me to remind you?”

The softness of your lips has him a bit dazed. “Huh?”

“I said, do you want me to remind you? I can- You know, call you before you leave work. Make sure you take them.”

“You know I wake up at five-o-clock in the mornin’ , right?”

“I know.” 

In a whisper, “Okay.”

Joels rough palms trail down your back and stop at the curve of your butt, finger tips delicately tracing the skin above your shorts. You shiver.

Barely above a whisper. “We dont have to go all the way.”

He says your name again, laced with worry. He doesnt want you to feel pressured. 

You pull your leg off his hip and push yourself up, settling your hands on either side of Joels head.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes-”

“-And you cant get all in your head about it. You stay here, with me. You stay present.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, a bit defeated. “I will stay present.”

“When you...When you say you dont wanna have sex, what is it that youre thinking exactly? I know you said you just get really nervous but I feel like youre not being totally honest.”

Joel stays quiet, idly rubbing your sides. Maybe you are a cat. Just getting to feel any part of you is soothing. “I jus’ want you to feel good. ‘Fraid ill do somethin’ you dont like.”

“You cant assume how I feel, Joel. Being intimate.. It takes time to learn what the other person likes.”

He sighs. “I know.” Youre always right.

Adding on, “Like I said, we dont have to go all the way,” You lean further back, situating yourself on his hips. He lets out a shaky breath when he feels the pressure of your ass through his sweats.

“But, I want to start somewhere. I want to feel you.” 

“Fuck- Um-” Hes shaking now, letting you grind your hips down onto him. Joel cant seem to control the way his hips instinctively push up to meet yours. Youre both becoming of a mess of little gasps and hot breaths and tiny whimpers already.

You hunch forward, guiding his hand under your your shirt- His shirt- letting him feel up the supple skin of your stomach, then the area where your ribs are, then your-

“And I want you to feel me,”

Surprisingly, you did actually go all the way that night.

Your sex life was a bit of a rocky start, but after Joel got over most of his anxiety, you learned quickly just how goddamn insatiable he was. Five years in and he still regularly makes you sore. 

There are a couple things you learned about him and his sexual interests. He loves to take you in his truck, in your kitchen, in your bathroom, on your couch. Other, riskier places. Anywhere that isnt your bed apparently, not that he isnt fucking you there either.

Joel is handsy, so handsy infact it embarasses you to no end, especially when youre infront of others. Thats usually how it starts, too. First he kisses you, then gropes your hips and your ass, and the next thing you know, youre cumming on his fingers. Then hed bend you over, or get you on your back, or make you ride him. Is it really riding if hes just slamming up into you until your brain turns into mush?

He likes that too. Making you not think.

Youd be lying if you said its only ever him. Sleepy morning handjobs before work, whining to him over the phone and touching yourself to his voice, arching your back into him while you're washing dishes, sucking him off after hours in his office.

And while most men prefer lingerie or little costumes, Joel likes dresses. Dresses that are discreet so he can take you in the backyard when he comes home early and sees you gardening. Or when youre both at a friends house and hes had a little too much to drink and finds himself alone with you. Dresses that make it easy to play his favorite game with you. I touch you, and you make sure we dont get caught by being too loud. Joel really is the worst sometimes.

Now, you only ever wear pants when its cold, or to bed or sometimes when youre lounging, like today. Youre in some shorts and a tank top. Otherwise, its dresses all year round, usually retro styles or ones meant for spring. Joels not picky though, he loves any dress on you.

Even if you wear an extremely modest, white lacey sleep dress, looking like some kind of vintage ghost, the man would still keep you up all night. And he has. He said you looked like a princess. You guess you kind of did.

The entire thing is like an unspoken arrangement between you both. He doesnt tell you to wear them, you just do.

And he works hard to spoil you, so why not buy as many cute dresses as possible? 

You got a cute dress today too, on the same day Joel has off. You think its going to be a new favorite of his.

The big polymailer stays hidden behind your back. Be casual. “Uh- Nothing!”

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.”

“Lemme see then. Show me your hands-”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller!”

Both you and Joel turn your heads to the voice, and only one of you has the energy to fake a a smile. Your neighbor is stopping in his driveway, having come back from a jog it looks.

“Hi, Lee.” 

Joel really, really, really doesnt like Lee. You dont like him either, but youre not one to cause problems. Lee on the other hand, is. Hes a bit younger than you, and a lot younger than Joel. Hes one of those tech dudes with a massive ego, thinks that youll be swayed by his money and his “charm” and youth as if youre some sad housewife in need of saving. Gross. 

And another thing, Lee doesnt even actually live here! Hes here ever so often to visit his dad between, you dont know, tech expos? You forget. Joel believes he started showing up more often to see you. 

Youre walking towards the porch again. Joels looking especially unhappy to see him today, knuckles pulled taut into a fist. His lips stay pressed into a thin line, careful not to let anything slip out. He usually lets you do most of the talking, as much as it pains him. 

Joels really not a fan of the way Lees eyes take a trip up your bare legs. Little shit.

“Out with no shoes again, Mrs. Miller?”

“You know me, Im uh- Im weird.”

“The weird ones do it best.” He smiles, all teeth. It gives you the creeps. His attention is on Joel now. Its like watching a puppy try to one up a wolf. “Right, Joel?”

“Uh huh.” Whatever that means.

“Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, Mrs. Miller.” Lee crosses into your driveway and you glance briefly at Joel, as if to make sure he isnt going to start growling at the other to stay away. Youre clutching the package to your chest now. 

“Have you ever been to a support group for uh- you know, the spouses of addicts?  I have a friend from work and shes really struggling.” 

Lees tone is sugary sweet, but the fake kind you put in diet soda except that stuff is way better. Joel sighs from the door. You stand there, dumbfounded on the porch steps because what the fuck is he going on about. 

You clear your throat, keeping your voice firm. “No. Ive never needed to.”  

Joels voice cuts in like a knife. “Been clean for almost twenty years now.”

“Yeah but, you know,” He shrugs, squinting a bit under the morning sun. “Relapses happen.”

Joel and Lee are at a stand still, and the moment Joel lets the arm leaning on the frame drop to his side, you know youre in for a lot of trouble. You move quickly towards the door. “We have to get ready for a- uh- a thing? but Im sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Im doing my best to support her.” And before he turns away, he just has to be slimy to you. “If you need someone to talk to, Im here for you.”

“No, that really wont be necess-”

Joels slinging a strong arm around you to yank you back inside before shutting the door. 

“Motherfucker,” He hisses to himself, stomping through the walkway and into the kitchen.

“How-” You rub your eyes, letting them adjust to the light inside of the house. You put the package down onto the bar counter that opens up the kitchen and follow Joel to the fridge. “How does he know?? I thought-”

“Been living in this house for decades now,” His expression is tight, brows knitted together while he chugs a bottle of water. “People talk. ‘Specially if I'm being rolled into an ambulance on more than one occasion.” Joel frowns. “Fuck- I shoulda punched him in the fuckin’ face- Do you see how hard he tries so hard to flirt with you infront’a me?”

“I know, love. I was there.” You take the bottle from his hand and set it to the side, then wrap your arms around him. “Try not to let it get to you okay?”

Joel sighs into your hair, giving your body a squeeze. “I know, I know, but jus’ hearin’ him tryin’ta use my baggage to make a pass at you…S’fuckin’ evil.”

“I agree, but I dont want his blood on the driveway.”

“So get it on his driveway instead, got it.”

You giggle and tip your head up to kiss him. The tension eases from Joels shoulders, and he cups your cheeks, letting his worries melt away into your mouth. When the pads of his fingers start to slide under your tank top, youre leaning back. Youll be here for a while if this goes any further.

Joel mindlessly chases your lips, looking a bit pouty now that its over.

“Im gonna start getting ready for the barbecue, okay?”

“This early?”

“I like being punctual.” 

“My brother wont give a damn if were late.” He noses your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there. Your knees are beginning to feel weak. The bastard is trying to distract you.

“But I do. The farmers market opened today, and I promised Maria I'd get her fresh strawberries before we got there, remember?”

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles into your shoulder.

Joel lets you go, watching you round the bar counter to get your package and disappear upstairs.

-

Ever since you came down to a freshly showered Joel, and got into the car with the gift bags you prepared for Maria and Tommy, Hes been staring at you. One wrong move and the drools gonna start pouring out of his mouth.

Your hair is in its relatively natural state, freshly washed and shiny from the oil you put in it. You put on some light makeup, and went a bit heavy handed on the blush to look sunkissed, and topped it off with a flavored lip gloss Joel especially enjoys. 

Now, the dress. Its a pink floral mid-length dress, with a low cut sweetheart neckline and a corset style backing to cinch your waist and push out your chest. The material is thick and pretty, and there are two other layers under the skirt to keep its shape. You have on a pair of little pink pumps with little bows to match. 

The drive to the farmers market is fairly peaceful, the windows are half down and theres music playing at low volume on the radio. You and Joel have different tastes in music, but one genre you can always agree on is alternative rock. 

The weathers beautiful, sun high in the sky, and its not too hot or humid. The day really is perfect. Youre gonna soak up some sun when youre at the barbecue. Hopefully, they made lemonade again too.

Joel has been mostly quiet throughout your shopping. While it would worry some, youve been with him long enough to know that he just has a lot on his mind. What hes thinking about? Maybe youll learn when you make it back home at the end of the day.

You gasp, strolling through the grass to a stand with a mountain of apples. Granny smith, Macintosh, Pink Ladys, Honeycrisp, the works. He grunts, trying to keep the things that are already in your basket steady. You came for strawberries and are going to leave with much more than that.

Joel nudges you softly. “Remember, this is quality stuff, meaning itll go bad faster. Dont get too much.”

“Okay, got it.” You beam, and then begin inspecting the Pink Lady apples first, trying to find the ones with the best color.  He keeps the basket within reach so you can drop your picks in.

"These were Sarahs favorites."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was funny 'cause we started arguin' over these or Red Delicious. I think Red Delicious is better."

"Thats so cute! Hmm. Should we get one for her? A Pink Lady?"

"Uh," He thinks on it for a moment, unsure, but the smile on your face helps him make a decision. "Sure, why not."

You drop two perfect Pink Ladys into the basket, moving onto the next pile.

“Hey, Joel.” You grin, holding out a wrinkled granny smith apple. “This one looks like you”

“Ha ha.” He deadpans, and grabs it from you to put back. In turn, hes reaching for the runt of the pile. A pathetically small one sitting near the bottom. “Now this one looks like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.” 

The next stand has golden kiwis, and youre practically dragging Joel forward to try them. You ask for one, and the man at the stand slices it into halves, giving you a plastic spoon to go with. 

You let Joel smell it first. “S’good.”

“Lets see if it tastes good.”

You sink your spoon into it, humming when you see how soft and easy it is to scoop out. In your mouth it goes!

Its tastes sweet, a bit mango-y and fucking delicious. You bounce in place, spoon feeding Joel next. “Oh yeah,” He smiles, smacking his lips a bit to really let the taste settle on his tongue. “Were takin’ some of these.”

You take one, then two, then three and four then five and as you reach for the sixth one, Joels stopping you with a gentle hand. 

“Darlin’.” 

“Right.” 

For the next few stands its just you and Joel trying various kinds of fruit. Starfruit, blueberries, some mangos, and then youre going back to the truck.

“I think my favorites were the mangos and golden kiwis. I hope Maria and Tommy have enough space in their fridge for all of this.”

“They moved into a bigger house, I reckon their fridge s’probably bigger, too.”

“What time is it?” 

You let go of Joels arm so he can switch the basket from one hand to the other. 

“‘Bout…” Hes squinting at his watch. “12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Oh! Guess we got the shopping done sooner than I expected. Hmm. Should we stop somewhere in the mean time?-" You snap your finger when you remember something. "They opened up this cafe that has cats in it! We can drink coffee and play with them for bit! The next fourty-five minutes will go by super fast."

“Youre gonna make Cement jealous.”

You bat your hand dismissively. “Hes not gonna caaare.” 

“Oh yes he will. And remind me again why we named our cat Cement?

“Uh, we were both drunk and had gotten him the day before without a name picked out?”

“A whole year later and we still kept it. Worst pet owners ever.” Joel chuckles, opening the passenger door for you like he always does. 

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The giant basket of fruit goes into the back seat next to the gift bags before Joel slots himself into the drivers seat. 

You fumble with the radio a bit, trying to see what else is on but ultimately landing back on your preferred station. Theyve been playing a lot of Linkin Park recently. Hell yeah. Joel buckles himself in at last, and pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Marias gonna teach me how to make baked chicken,” You hum, gazing outside the window.

“You sure youre not jus’ unteachable?”

“Ha ha,” You lightly shove his shoulder, making him smile. “I thought you loved the meat sauce pasta I learned how to make.”

He settles into his seat more comfortably at the stop light, elbow rested on the window. “Got me with that one. Think I like ground turkey over beef, though.”

“Yeah? Me too. The beef tastes better but the turkey is lighter. Stops me from feeling all sick.”

“Agreed.”

Youre looking out the windshield now. Where did all the buildings go? Youre out of the city. 

“Uh, Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to kill time.”

“Yeah but where?”

“Youll see.” 

Your brows pinch together. “I see a whole lot of nothing except for trees."

“Almost there.”

Joel makes a hasty left turn onto some campgrounds. Your stomach starts to twist into excited knots. Is he gonna show you a baby deer or something? Bunnies? He used to be a park ranger for this area, and would tell you stories about all sorts of baby animals hed run into.

The car comes to a stop, and he turns the engine off. Silence.

“So…Were out in the woods to kill time?”

“Mhm.” Joel unbuckles his seat belt and twists into the back to grab the spare jacket he usually keeps there, then gets out of the truck and comes around the back to open the door for you. 

He holds your hand to help you get down from the passenger side, and as soon as both of your shoes hit the ground Joel is on you. 

You dont know where your hands should go, youve kissed Joel a thousand times and yet you still get so flustered when he catches you by surprise. You keep your hands on his shoulders for now, letting him press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“This is new right? The dress?” He gives your ass an appreciative squeeze through the fabric. “Thought you looked so pretty when you came down stairs in it.” 

Your heads spinning. Something about your dress? 

“Woulda been okay if you let me have you earlier.” He pulls away, examining your flushed face cradled by his hand. Every part of you just fits so well in his palms. “Then I thought, why not have you now? We got time to spare.”

“Joel- We- Someone could see us-” You sputter, and Joels already shaking his head with a knowing smirk. He pulls you around to the bed of the truck, popping it open, only pausing to spread open the jacket he grabbed, just having just thrown it in there when he came around to get you.

“No ones gonna come lookin’ for us.” He turns you around, pushing you down onto your front. “As long as youre quiet.” 

Fuck. You really hate this game. At least, you like to tell yourself that.

Blood rushes to your ears while Joels rough palms lift up the skirt of your dress, exposing your ass and thighs to the cool air. He whistles from behind you. 

“Red lace panties?” His fingers dont shy away from tracing along the fabric covering your cunt. “This new too?”

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at his face. “Uh.. Surprise?”

Joels smiling now, fingers dipping under the lace. “Thas' awfully sweet of you.”

His touch slips and slides around your growing wetness, then trails down to your clit. Your voice wobbles a bit and fuck- fuck hes going too fast. “Joel- Ah-” You whimper and try to push yourself up to look at him but his hand is steady on your spine, keeping you down. 

Smug, “Go on, sweetheart. Keep sayin’ my name. Jus’ like that.”

A whine escapes you when he pulls away, “Nooo.” You push your ass back, as if to entice him. You succeed, because hes skipped his usual routine of fucking you with his hands and is now unbuckling his belt.

Joel rolls you onto your back, and peels your underwear all the way off, bunching it up and shoving it into his back pocket. Your face burns just watching him.

“Think i'll hold onto these for a lil’ while.”

His hands push the back of your knees towards your chest, exposing your heat. Youll never get used to the way he just seems so interested just watching your cunt squeeze around nothing. 

“Thats-” You swallow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "Joel.”

“Relax." He coos, "Seen it a thousand times already, and ill be seein' it a thousand more. Get used to it, honey.”

Your attention flickers down to where his dick is about to meet your entrance. Joels nudging you down onto your back again and pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. Its when youre distracted that he actually moves to push himself in.

Both of you groan together, and Joel could never get bored of fucking you, not when your cunt just pulses around him everytime hes inside you.

Joel wastes no time fucking you once he eases all the way inside. Youre trying your best to keep quiet. Shit is no easy task. Its like Joel is trying to get you guys arrested.

He props himself up with a hand near your head, and lets the other keep one of your legs pinned open. The moans start to claw out of your throat. “Joel- Joel-” 

“Shh. Thas’ enough.” He growls through his teeth, fucking you harder. “Youre gonna- Gh- Get us caught-”

Something rustles between the trees, making you both freeze. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching Joel straighten up to look around.

After a few seconds of squinting, Joel can see a few foxes moving about through the trees. Thank fuck. His shoulders visibly relax.

Hushed, “E-Everything okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ some animals.” 

And like that, hes back to it. His dick is going to make your eyes permanently stay rolled into your head. 

Joel is always just so handsome when hes pounding into you. His forehead gets shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight from clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet so he can focus on your moans. His face is noticeably redder against his usual farmers tan too. Really, hes just so attractive.

A flurry of yes and harder and fuck spills out of your mouth and into your palms. Not too loud, you try to remind yourself.

“Joel- S’too much-”

“Nah, thas’ not it.” He huffs, humorous. “You can take it. Y'always do. In fact, you love gettin’ your cunt bullied by me, aint that right?” As if to get his point across, he thrust in all the way to the hilt, making you keen. You forgot how to breathe, lungs drawing tight in your chest.

"Fuck," You manage to squeeze out.

Your palms push weakly at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“You good?” He checks in, breath hot on your skin. As if your crying isnt enough.

“So g-good, Joel- Fuck- Youre so good.” 

With a little nod, Joels pushing himself up, switching to slow and deep strokes, really digging himself into you, and trying to find that spot he likes to call home.

He massages your chest, then squeezes your sides and your hips and finally, his thumb finds your clit. Immediately, you jolt. 

“Oh fuck-” 

“Quiet.” And he says it to keep the charade going, even though his favorite thing is hearing your sobs.

His thumb rubbing incessantly against your that sweet little nub of yours. You choke, and Joels chuckling, watching the way you squirm, body not knowing whether it should lean into his touch because its too good or away because its too much.

It starts with this firey feeling under the pad of his thumb, then deep inside your stuffed cunt. Youre going to cum. 

Your hands fly to your mouth again, and you get all wide eyed from the sensation. Its cute. Your muscles pull taut, legs locking around Joels hips. Youre wailing into your palm when it happens.

“Good girl,” His voice soothes you through it. “Very good.”

He pets away the fly aways sticking to your sweaty face when its over. Your eyes drop shut while you catch your breath. 

Joels moving again now. He rolls his hips a few times, and thumb is building the foundation of another orgasm in you. Youre shaking badly.

Your words slur too, “Cant- Too soon- Joel- Joel-”

“Another one.” Joel says firmly, but breathless. 

Youre gasping, not sure where to focus your eyes. The trees around you look like theyre spinning. Your attention is back on Joel, whos looking rather satisfied watching you squirm and cry. If thats how wants to play, then fine.

Your hands slide up Joels biceps, and rests on the nap of his neck to bring him down. “Juh-Joel,” You pant, cradling his face with both hands. “Youre so good- The best-”

Oh, Joel likes that one, you can tell by the way he looks away briefly. Shyness. Excitement runs up your spine. Joel loves being told hes doing well. 

“You are- Nghh-” You swallow the drool in your mouth, trying to get the words out clearly. “The best husband I could ever ask for.”

Joel wheezes, head dropping into the curve of your shoulder. “Please.”

“S’true,” You nod rapidly, fingers curling into his hair. “Youre so good to me and-and youre mine and- Joel-  Im yours.”

“Jesus-” He groans, soaking up the feeling of you pressing kisses to his face and up his jaw. 

“Hhah-  No one else can have me, okay? No one- Not even-”

The name doesnt even come out of your mouth before Joels coming to a stop to slip his arms all the way around your middle. With the new leverage he has on your body, hes drilling his way into you. You fucking squeal, rules now long forgotten. Youre a useless ragdoll in his arms and he wouldnt have it any other way.

Your lips are shiny with spit and left over lip gloss, and he can still taste the mintiness in his tongue. Every now and again your eyes drop shut, but his dick just punches into your guts a little harder. Look at me. 

Your brain is mush, just the way he likes it, and youre perfectly pliant in his arms, babbling over how good you feel. Hes kisses along the valley of your breasts now, stopping to suck the flesh of your nipples.

Youre just so pretty. Even when you have bedhead, or youre snotty from a cold, or youre all dirty from working in the garden  youre still so pretty. Including now, all sweaty with you lipgloss all smudged and your mascara starting to run. Youre perfect. 

Joel grunts loud, jaw clenched tight as he gets lost in the feeling of your insides. His perfect little wife.

When he cums, hes doubling over with a loud grunt, getting a few last thrusts in before his spent floods your cunt.

Youre blinking away your tears, now watching the clouds inch along the sky. It really is a beautiful day. You pet Joels sweaty hair, and kiss the side of his temple. Your core throbs faintly. Jesus, he did a number on you.

“Love,” You say softly, patting his back.

“Mm?”

“Get up.” Another pat. “Youre squishing me.” 

Joel backs off to buckle himself up, but you stay seated to catch your breath and adjust your dress. At least it didnt get ripped during all the… Commotion. Not like last time.

“I need my underwear back.”

“Nope,”

“Joel.”

He kisses the center of your forehead and helps you down from the bed and into the passenger seat instead.  “Told you i'm keepin’ ‘em.”

You sputter, “I cant go to barbecue commando!”

“Sure you can.” He pops open the glove compartment and gets out some tissues, hand snaking under your dress again to clean you. You sigh softly at the sensation.

“Youre the worst.”

“I am indeed the worst.” Joel pulls the seatbelt over your chest and clicks it in. “You can tell me all about it on the way to Tommys.” 

[bookshelf-dust]

kiss it better

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3,176

warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)

a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.

————

The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst. 

You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing. 

You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?”

Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.

“Steve?”

Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls. 

You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see. 

“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way. 

Steve huffs, frustrated with himself. 

“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily. 

His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is. 

“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.” 

You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them. 

“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be. 

“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”

You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand. 

“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

————

Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t. 

Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge. 

He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit. 

And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets. 

He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything. 

Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it. 

He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell. 

Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen. 

When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that. 

“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low. 

He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help. 

“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs. 

You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so. 

You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die. 

Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears. 

He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.

You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms. 

Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he? 

You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees. 

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.” 

“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away. 

You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use. 

One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back. 

“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.” 

He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”

You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath. 

You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.

Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it. 

Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now. 

“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice. 

You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself. 

“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”

He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip. 

By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold. 

You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?” 

He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”

You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”

His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him. 

“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”

He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.

When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t. 

You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”

His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working. 

“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.” 

You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”

————

When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left. 

But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand. 

“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”

He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone. 

“Hit me, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating. 

“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”

He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”

His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”

You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”

Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms. 

He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen. 

Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night. 

Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”

You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”

He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”

“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”

“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”

You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch. 

He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way. 

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

He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry. 

“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”

Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.

“What?”

“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”

“How come?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Best friends.”

“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”

His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time. 

“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”

You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch. 

“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands. 

“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch. 

“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.” 

“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.

He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up. 

Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die. 

You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much. 

Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father. 

You have made him whole. 

He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side. 

“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”

You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!” 

Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face. 

When you pull away, he whines. 

“All better?”

Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again. 

“I’m healed.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[httpvomitello]

hey so how do you think the bayverse boys would deal with having a s/o where on the news, it says that the apartment above their’s, someone got murdered. And then suddenly with weird timing, they just hear something rolling behind them and someone huff and sit on their couch. They look over and see their s/o with a suitcase and saying “I’m gonna live here now”. They’re staying here for the next month or two cuz you know, murderers might still be in the building and s/o doesn’t wanna be next. Also if the boys want to deal with it, s/o basically knows what went down and can tell them?

Hello, hello! I hope you like it ♡♡♡♡

Leonardo

When you walk in with a suitcase and tell him someone got murdered in your building, Leo’s calm on the outside but inside, he's panicking

His first thought?

I should’ve been there to protect you

He won’t let you leave the lair for anything

"You’re staying here. No arguments.”

His tone leaves no room for negotiation

The thought of you being anywhere near that danger makes him feel sick

The longer you stay with him, the more on edge Leo gets

He’s constantly worrying about whether the murderer will come after you next

Leo wants to protect you but struggles with not being able to solve everything

He hates that you had to come to him in fear

"I should've stopped it before it even happened," he mutters one night

You remind him it’s not his fault, but he doesn’t seem convinced

Despite everything, you know Leo won't stop until he finds the killer

But one night, you ended up giving him a little earful, making him calm down a little.

Raphael

When you tell him what happened, Raph’s first reaction is pure rage

“Wait, you’re tellin’ me there was a murder right above you? And you’re just NOW telling me?”

He’s angry, at the situation, not you, but you can tell he’s freaked out inside

He won’t show it at first, but Raph feels guilty

The fact that you were that close to danger eats at him.

He’s punching the training dummy harder than usual, throwing himself into workouts as a way to blow off steam

“I shoulda been there.”

You staying with him makes him feel more protective, but also more on edge

He tries to act like it’s no big deal, but deep down, he’s scared of losing you

"If anything happens to you…"

He doesn't finish the sentence, but you know what he means

One night, you catch him snapping at his brothers and pacing the lair like a caged animal

"I hate this. You being in danger, and me not being able to do a damn thing about it!"

He doesn’t want to admit how scared he is, but you can see it in his eyes

He only managed to calm down when you dragged him to the bedroom and lay down together

For the rest of the night, you were the one calming Raph down and reassuring him that everything was going to be okay.

Donatello

The moment you tell Donnie about the murder, he’s already thinking about how to secure your old apartment

“Did they catch the guy? No? Okay, you’re staying here. No question.”

Donnie tries to play it cool, but his anxiety is through the roof

He spends hours obsessively monitoring your building through hacked security feeds and checking news reports

He doesn't mind spending a few more days awake just to catch the killer who can hurt you too

He can’t relax until he knows the threat is gone, and even then, he’s still tense

You wake up a few nights to find Donnie hunched over his computers, working on something

"Donnie, it’s 3 AM," you say, rubbing your eyes

He barely looks up. "I need to make sure everything’s secure before you even think about going back."

There’s a tremble in his voice, he’s scared to let you go

The stress finally gets to him

One night, after days of little sleep and constant worry, Donnie breaks down

"I-I can’t lose you. What if they come after you next? What if I’m not fast enough to stop it?"

You have to remind him that he’s already done everything he can to keep you safe

You had to ask Master Splinter for help to get Donnie into bed, but when he finally did, it didn't take long for him to close his eyes and fall asleep

And as you lay down next to him, your worry eased a little

The following afternoon, the killer was arrested.

Michelangelo

Mikey’s first reaction is shock

"Whoa, wait—someone got murdered?!"

He’s usually the carefree one, but the idea that something so dangerous happened near you?

It freaks him out more than he lets on

He tries to keep things light when you move in

“Guess you’re moving in with me then, huh? Roomies!”

But deep down, Mikey’s scared. He doesn’t know what he’d do if something happened to you

One night, after everyone else is asleep, Mikey quietly admits how scared he is

"I know I act like it’s all cool, but... I’m terrified, y'know? What if that guy comes after you next? What if I’m not fast enough to help you?"

Hearing him confess his fears hits hard

Mikey sticks close to you, always wanting to be near

He’s always checking in

“Need anything? Another pizza? Some nunchucks?”

He’ll distract you with his usual antics, but his hugs linger a little longer, and you can see the fear behind his smile

So, to calm him down, you proposed an all-night video game marathon

And it worked...

Until Master Splinter shows up and tells you off for being up so late at night

But it was worth it, because in the end, Mikey seemed to be calmer than he had been on other days.

[luveline]

hi jade !! this is me resending my hotch request bc of ur recent post 🤍 i sent the one about hotch taking care of bau!reader who has a really bad stomachache, thanks so much, i think you’re amazing 💞💞💞

thank you for requesting angel! fem

You do this sad thing with your hands when you're in pain. Aaron wishes he didn't know your tell, that he'd never had reason to understand it, but he does. Your fingers, in particular your pinky, curl toward your palm frenetically, and he has an ample view of your closed off face in the chair opposite. He can pin the moment he knows you're in pain down to the minute twitch of your lip. 

He peeks at Morgan where he lays on the couch before leaning across the table to touch your arm. The jet offers little privacy, so Aaron tries to be delicate. 

“L/N? Are you alright?” 

“Mm,” you hum, too high-pitched to have come out the way you meant it. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You say this, and yet you can't open your eyes, leaning less than subtly away from him as though your pain is catching.

Aaron keeps his head down as he stands so as not to attract attention. You've sat near the wall, leaving an empty seat for him to sit in. “Hey,” he says, touching the crook of your elbow, wanting to fix it, soothe the twitch from your hand, “you're in pain.” 

“It's nothing.” 

“Saying it won't necessarily make it true,” he says. 

“It felt worth trying.” 

He is genuinely perturbed to see you in pain like this without explanation. “You have to tell me what's wrong.” 

“Hotch, I…” you say, your voice wrought with embarrassment as you open your eyes, “it's just my stomach hurts. That's all.” 

“Sharp pains?” 

“Just hurts. Nothing dire.” 

“How do you know?” he asks. 

“Happens sometimes.” 

He puts his arm around you, careful not to jostle your back. You're tense as a rubber band about to snap. It's unlike you to be the more rigid of the two of you, less foreign for Hotch to have softened, especially when it's you. “How often?” he asks, wary of the tears brimming like silver at the corners of your eyes. 

“Just sometimes, I don't know.” You speak in a concise, panicked tenor. 

In this line of work, it could be anything. Not eating enough, not having time to stop for breath. You could be thirsty, sick, anxious, stressed into pain. It could be purely psychosomatic or you could be injured. He can't remember you taking any blows during the last few days away. It could be your period. You might not want to mention that. 

“Y/N,” he says, falling out of boss mode now he's sure it's not going to kill you, and into someone who cares for you, “what can I do?” 

You shudder a breath, slouched under his touch. “It's not that bad.” 

It's clearly a shocking amount of pain. Your shuddering worsens as he pulls you into his side. He's prepared to sit with you until you can give him better instructions, or until the pain passes, or, God forbid, things get worse. “I'm here,” he says, rubbing your arm gently. “Try to breathe.” 

He's wondering why you might think this amount of pain is normal, or acceptable. Wondering why he shouldn't just call for medical assistance here and now, but then you start to come around, your face shining with perspiration. “Oh,” you sigh, wiping your face with your sleeve, leaning into your hand, hiding. 

“Is it getting better?” he asks. 

“I think it's anxiety or something.” Your breath slips out in disjointed huffs. 

He can't guess what it is. Have you been to the doctor? he wants to ask, but perhaps in a moment, when you're steady in yourself again. “From the jet?” 

“No. Maybe.” You frown. 

“Jack doesn't understand that I'm on a plane.” 

You lift your gaze in confusion. Aaron moves onwards.

“He doesn't understand that this is a plane. I brought him by, once, to try to explain why I can't always answer the phone. It's thick metal, you know?” It was an easier explanation than having no signal in the sky. “But he didn't get that it was something that could move. I had to take him to the airport. We watched…” He slows as your eyes meet his completely. “We watched them take off for hours. Now he doesn't get so angry when I don't answer.” 

“Jack was angry?” you ask, half incredulous. 

“A bit.” He tries to string the story together before you can realise what it is he's doing, his arm curling around your from behind, fingers making the most tenuous of circles into the very side of your stomach. A barely there sort of comfort. “It's not like him. He reminds me of his mom when he's angry.” 

Your smile is a physical relief to see. “Does he have tantrums?” 

“Doesn't every kid?” 

You talk about Jack in dulcet tones while he tries to keep the pain at bay, his arm steadfast behind you, your faces closer than they have any platonic business being. He'll pester you into doctors appointments when you touch down, but for now, he just holds you and talks to you like everything is normal. 

You cover his hand with yours when the pain starts anew, talking through it, pain in the soft line of your bottom lip. 

“Am I hurting you?” he asks. You give him a weak smile. He feels awful, but it makes his heart race. So close, and so pretty, and so upset. “Is there anything I can do?” 

An embarrassing amount of weight lies in ‘anything’. You shake your head, whispering, “Nothing. This is enough.” 

Aaron pulls you in closer and wraps both of his arms around you, hiding you from the others, an aimless attempt to protect you from a pain he can't touch. Someone puts a cup of tea on the table for you, but otherwise you're left alone for the rest of the flight. 

[genderfluid-insomniac]

I have just been going through all of you x reader stuff, and it's amazing! I'm not sure if requests are open or not. (If they're not, you may ignore me), but I was wondering how Macaque would be if his partner was pregnant, specifically with a little baby girl during and after the pregnancy?

I love this idea so much and I may have gotten a bit carried away and I didn't expect this post to be this long lol

Macaque x pregnant!reader

Macaque during the pregnancy:

If you thought he was protective before then get ready for being watched/”guarded” all the time and he’s not going to hide being protective if anything he’s going to be obvious that if anyone dares mess or threatens to hurt you then it’s over for them. He’ll tone it down a tad if you ask him to but he’s not taking any risks since he doesn’t want to lose you in any way nor his child.

He’s patient when you’re dealing with the pregnancy and all its symptoms however every time you get morning sickness his anxiety flares up, worrying about your health and your cubs’. He’s never been happier for his six ears and how sensitive they are because he can hear his cub's heartbeat and every sound they make.

There’s no lying he is going to be a bit judgy when you ask and eat your strange food combinations or cravings but he’ll humor you regardless. Depending on what they are he might try some of them with you and others he will draw a hard no at.

Both of you didn’t want the gender to be revealed at all via the ultrasound or the whispers of the future Macaque hears so you both are very excited to meet your child when they come into the world and grow up with two hopeful loving parents. The later in your pregnancy the more you start to show and the more he is obviously lovestruck but doesn’t seem to care.

At night when you’re resting on the bed or couch your husband will have his head resting on your tummy, smiling softly whenever he feels the baby kick, and use his abilities to perform stories on the walls in front of you. You’re never left feeling helpless or forgotten since he’s so doting on you more than before however don’t think that doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook for his teasing and flirts.

The larger your belly gets and the harder regular chores get the more he’s going to insist and make sure you’re off your feet, helping you to feel comfortable and less stressed. Macaque will let you keep doing regular things if you insist on doing them but the moment you wince or feel discomfort he’s sweeping you off your feet again literally.

Once the day gets here and your water breaks he’s panicking and not hiding it that well since with help from Sandy and the gang had told him the full dos and don’ts of pregnancy. He knows you’re in good hands but seeing you yell in pain and hearing you cry as you’re feeling contractions breaks his heart.

He doesn’t risk using his shadow portals in case it hurts his cub and you and rushes you to the hospital, not taking no for an answer when he’s asked if he’s sure he wants to come in or asks you if you want him in. There isn’t ever a time when he’s not by your side and holding your hand, letting you squeeze it as much as you want, and soothing you with comforting words.

When the time finally happens you’re screaming and gripping his hand like you’re hanging off a cliff for dear life, both apologizing for making his ears hurt and pleading for it to be over. He was frankly a bit disturbed that you apologized for hurting him via your screaming but held you as close as he could until you both heard the cry of your new cub.

Macaque after the pregnancy:

The moment you both heard your child cry everything else no longer mattered and you opened your arms to signal you wanted to hold your child, cradling their sweet baby girl in your arms and crying out of joy. You looked up at Macaque with tears streaming down your face and sobbing happily when you saw the same expression mirror on his face, resting your foreheads against one another and kissing him gently.

His cub had your hair color fur and four lotus-shaped ears like his that twitched and flicked about when you both traced over them with your fingers. Her fists curled up and she rubbed her eyes that slowly opened to show your eye color reflected with gold flecks scattered around the iris.

Macaque couldn’t help the bittersweet feeling that his cub had his ears which you constantly called precious but also worried considering all the hate he got from others for his “freaky” ears. You must’ve seen his conflicted expression because you kissed his cheek and then your cubs who was swaddled in a comfy blanket.

When you moved for him to hold your baby he tensed up at first not wanting to possibly hurt his baby girl in any way but all his worries melted when she looked up at him and wrapped his tail around hers. He made a promise to himself that he’d protect his daughter and lover no matter what.

The days after you gave birth were hard and Macaque was there for all of it, helping you out whenever you could and getting you actual food since both of you agreed the hospital food was disgusting. Your baby was pretty well-behaved and was mostly quiet thanks to a sound-dampening spell your lover placed on her ears, handing her off to one another and to the nurses when they needed to check on her.

When you were finally let out of the hospital he still didn’t use his portal out of concern for his baby and you, calling Sandy to help you both back home with your wheelchair and gratefully accepting the baby gifts he gave you both. While you were still in the hospital Macaque sent a couple of clones back to your apartment to baby-proof everything and also install a lock on the door of his dojo.

The following weeks weren’t pretty since parenting is never easy and you both share the burden of the sleepless nights which doesn’t happen that much since it turns out that your baby was an easy cub just very clingy. Macaque had mixed feelings about that since he liked having you all to himself but now had to share you with his daughter, who he loved more than anything but was also getting used to sharing you.

Macaque was protective during the pregnancy and still remains so as Yingyue grows up, deciding to name their baby girl after how she was just as beautiful as the moon and just as calm and soothing. Every time a picture of the sky was in her view she babbled out excited noises and often would put on special shadow plays for his precious daughter.

He watches everyone like a hawk when the gang meets his daughter specifically Wukong for reasons. Already in advance, he put a sound-dampening spell on her sensitive ears knowing MK and Mei wouldn’t be able to not scream or at least MK would remember after a second or so. They all adored his cub even Wukong who wished him congratulations as Macaque just stared lovingly at his little girl.

[wsoc-gay]

World Cup Results II

Part 1

Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: The beginning of Ona's Pregnancy

A/N: At least one more part to this of the pregnancy, might continue it after the baby too. But if anyone has a request please feel free to put it in my asks! I work much better and faster with ideas. I'm open to writing anything, smut, fluff, angst, kid fics, just let me know what you want to read!

You and Ona couldn’t be more excited on the drive home from the clinic. Neither of you could wipe the smiles off your faces as your hands were held together and rested in your girlfriend’s lap. The entire ride home was full of loving sentiments exchanged to one another and plenty of blushes being spread across faces. 

Arriving home began your new train in following the advice from the doctor as closely as possible as well as going a bit overboard. Your girlfriend was starting to get annoyed with you, but even she would admit it was sweet how caring you were. Ona never opened her car door, never lifted anything too heavy, didn’t carry her bags to training, and you hardly let her do household chores. Every night for dinner you cooked a meal full of all the proper nutrients the doctors had advised eating and made sure to buy Ona only the best prenatal vitamins.

You both had agreed to not tell your teammates until you reached the 15-week mark, until then Ona didn’t have to alter her trainings and could still play in games. You had let the coaching staff and medical staff know as soon as you found out so they could monitor the Spaniard closer, but as of now you wanted to keep it on a need-to-know basis.  

It was around the 8-week mark, right after the first ultrasound, that some of your teammates began to catch on that something was happening. Any slight bump or tackle Ona took during training led to you sprinting to be by her side checking up on her. The brunette found it sweet but needed you to let up a little bit before they had to tell your team sooner than expected. 

Your worries weren’t without their reason, the chance of miscarriage was drastically higher through IVF and until Ona was outside her first trimester you had every right to worry. The days leading up to your 8-week scan were some of the most stressful days in your recent memory. You and Ona both were worried sick about having the scan show that you had lost your baby.

Ona was more stressed than you were due to her late-night research of her symptoms which often times resulted in her reading many horror stories of parents going to the first ultrasound and finding no heartbeat. The internet on top of her raging hormones led to many tearful nights where you tried to alleviate her fears but knew that the only thing to help the brunette’s anxiety would be seeing your baby. 

Thankfully one day after training the two of you were able to go to the clinic for the scan and see your baby for the first time. Tears immediately came to both of your eyes as the doctor told you your baby was not only alive, but healthy and thriving inside your girlfriend. You weren’t one to cry, but Ona made a comment that she thinks you’ll be a mess at every ultrasound, and you couldn’t help, but agree. There was something about seeing your baby on that screen that made everything seem more real. Therefore, the attentiveness only got worse.

Your English teammates were the first to confront you about your recent behavior. The pair was sat alone at a table during lunch when Lucy pulled you into a seat, “What’s wrong with you?”

You gave the older woman a confused look, “What the hell do you mean?”

Kiera slapped Lucy’s arm and muttered something you couldn’t quite make out under her breath. She looked over to you, “What Lucy meant to say,” She sent the brunette defender a glare, “Is that you’ve been acting a bit different during training recently.”

You truly hadn’t caught onto what they were referring to yet and raised an eyebrow at the pair, “Is this your guy’s subtle way of telling me I’ve been playing badly?”

Lucy slapped the back of your head and groaned, “No you idiot,” You slapped her right back, “Every time someone so much as touches Ona you act like she got shot.” Lucy slapped you again, “And you’re always watching her like a hawk,” You slapped her back.

Kiera grabbed her arm before she could retaliate, “Would you two stop acting like children already.”

This wasn’t surprising behavior for you and the outside back, ever since you arrived at Barcelona the two of you grew much closer. Lucy helped you a lot to settle into the team and lifestyle of Spain, so overtime you grew a lot closer. Hence, why she was one of the first ones to notice a change in your behavior.

You suddenly realized what they were referring too and tried to hide it best you could, “I’m not acting any different, I always worry about her.”

Lucy gave you a dumbfounded look, “Yeah, but this is even pushing it for you,” She began to dramatically mimic you, “Oh my love, Ona, someone leaned on you during our full contact sport, and job, are you sure you’re going to survive this,” She leaned back with an arm laid against her forehead dramatically. 

You started slapping the older brunette again, “Oh shut up, I am not acting like that.”

Kiera sighed and pushed the two of you apart, “Would you two seriously stop it,” she looked at Lucy, “Luce stop being dramatic,” and then turned to face you, “You’re not acting like whatever the hell that display was, but you are acting extra protective over her.”

You ultimately made up some excuse about Ona having reinflamed her ankle and that you wanted to make sure she didn’t seriously injure it again. The pair of English women didn’t seem to believe your excuse, but let you go on your way.

On the ride home you had told you told Ona about the confrontation with Lucy and Kiera which she followed up by agreeing that you needed to tone down the protectiveness and worrying. She had begun to notice it too and believed it was sweet but agreed that it was about to get out of hand and was only a matter of time before more of your teammates began to catch on. 

---

It was a couple weeks later, around the 12-week mark, when Ona was quieter than usual after training. The car ride home was nearly silent, but you didn’t mention it and assumed she was just tired. As the pregnancy progressed Ona was starting to become increasingly more tired throughout the day, so you assumed that alongside the hard training today was the cause for her quietness. 

It wasn’t until a little later when you walked into the living room and found the Spaniard sitting on the couch with her head in her hands that you finally asked, “Is something wrong babe? Are you not feeling well?”

Her head remained in her hands as she softly muttered out, “I need to tell you something.”

You quickly sat down next to her with you hand on her thigh and concern lacing your voice, “Is it the baby? Do we need to call the doctor?”

She quickly sat back and leaned against the couch quickly alleviating your worries, “No, no the baby is fine. It’s just, es posible que accidentalmente le haya contado a Aitana sobre el bebé.” She had rushed out the last sentence in Spanish making it difficult for you to understand.

“Slower, por favor, you know my Spanish isn’t good when you talk fast.”

“I accidentally told Aitana about the baby today,” Feeling increasingly guilty she began to ramble, “I know we didn’t want to tell people about the baby this early, but she cornered me and you know I’m bad at keeping things to myself when someone asks and it just slipped out. I am so sorry mi amor.”

You chuckled at her rambling but let out a sigh of relief knowing this was the cause to Ona’s mood shift and not something more serious. Ona and Aitana had always been close, growing up playing for the academy together and since Ona returned to Barca they became even closer, so part of you was more surprised it took this long for her to find out. The outside back also was known for being bad at keeping secrets. Anytime someone would ask her about something she wasn’t supposed to talk about she would begin rambling making it obvious that she was hiding something and would usually end up saying it anyways.

You dropped back to lean against the couch and moved your hand from her knee onto her, hardly noticeable, bump, “Oh thank god, you had me worried, love.”

Ona covered your hand with hers, “There is nothing to worry about, I’m sorry she found out.”

The outside back when onto explain that Aitana had cornered her in the locker room after training when the rest of the team had already filed out. Instead of the usual comments which were about how protective you had become, Aitana had brought up how happy the two of you had seemed and that you were touchier than usual. She also had picked up on Ona subtly rubbing her stomach and your hand grazing over it after you would hug. She had straight up asked Ona if she was pregnant, and there was no escaping it from there, your girlfriend didn’t know how to lie.

“And you know I can’t lie, amor, she caught me so off guard and I must’ve taken too long to try and come up with an excuse, but she just pulled me into a hug saying how happy she was for us.”

You laughed again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull the smaller girl into your side, “I’m more surprised you lasted this long without everyone finding out.”

Ona rubbed a hand over her stomach instinctively, “As long as everyone keeps bringing it up to you instead of me, we should be okay, there’s only three weeks until I can’t play in matches anymore and then we’ll have to tell them.”

You looked down to her face as you smoke softly, “We can tell the team now if you want, you’re out of the first trimester, we just saw the baby, and everything is healthy, there’s no big reason to keep it from them anymore.”

“No, no, I like just keeping it to ourselves. Our own little bubble outside of football for now,” she leaned up to connect your lips softly and full of love.

---

Aitana did much better of a job keeping the secret to herself than you originally expected. The midfielder took her job as being the best friend and only teammate who knew very seriously. Anytime your teammates would begin on the topic when she was around, she would quickly shush their comments and would back any lie you made up to cover your secret. 

You and Ona were grateful for her efforts, but in a way, it only increased your other teammates suspicions. You also were now partially convinced much of the team actually already knew what was going on. As the last two weeks have gone by Mapi, Ingrid, and Alexia had completely stopped asking anything about the topic. Originally Mapi had been one of the most vocal players about finding out what was going on, but now had completely stopped in her efforts. 

The truth was Ingrid, being the observant and caring teammate and friend that she was, had picked up on the same signals Aitana had. She obviously told Mapi about her suspicions who then confided in Alexia about them. Therefore, they came up with a plan to get the two of you to admit it to them. 

It was after the last game of the season before the Christmas break that Alexia decided the team would go to a club to celebrate before everyone left to their respective homes. You and Ona were going to see your family in England for the break, so you tried to get the two of you out of going by saying that you had to finish packing before your flight. Alexia wasn’t taking this as an answer and needed the both of you there to try and get an admittance from you, therefore, said it was required team bonding and you had to be there. The original plan was for Alexia and Mapi to call Ona out on not drinking and essentially for her to expose the pregnancy, but this plan was quickly stopped when the two of you entered the bar, keys in Ona’s hands, clearly having drove the two of you there. Anytime she was asked about a drink it was easy for her to say she was driving that night, plus she didn’t have to lie so there was no worries about her slipping up.

Alexia and Mapi were still trying to come up with a new plan when, surprisingly, you were the one to let it slip.

You were sitting at a table with many of your teammates while Ona was dancing with Aitana, Patri, Claudia, and Cata when a guy walked up behind Ona and placed his hands on her hips. You were on your feet and dragging the man off her before she had the chance to pull away.

The man turned around to be face to face with the hands that had just pulled him off the girl he was obviously interested in, “What the fuck do you want?”

You stood tall with your chest puffed and harshly spoke, “I want you to get your hands off my girlfriend.”

He scoffed, “Girlfriend? Sorry bud, I don’t think she’s the girlfriend type.”

You laughed, “Sorry, bud, but I’m the one she’s woken up next to for the past 8 years so I think I might know her a bit better than you.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t see you anywhere until after I came over so looks like I’ve beat you to it.”

“Oh, fuck no,” You tried to shove past him to get to Ona, but he moved to block your path.

“Why don’t you prove it to me then?” By now a decent amount of your teammates had noticed what was going on and began to come over to help deal with the man.

This sent you over the edge, it might’ve partially been at fault to the alcohol you had that night, and you being a little more than drunk already. But with one big push to his shoulder you announced, “I think the fact that she’s pregnant with my baby proves enough,” this left him shocked and gave you enough time to walk over to Ona with your back turned to the man and place a hand on the side of her face, “Are you alright, love?” Most of your teammates were now standing around you with their jaws hanging open clearly in shock.

The man clearly wasn’t over the embarrassment yet, as he pulled your shoulder back to face him and landed a hook across your cheek, you threw one right back getting him across the nose before security was dragging him away just as Lucy was doing the same to you. You looked back to find Ona and saw Alexia standing in front of her having clearly dragged her back and away from you and the man, likely assuming the altercation may escalate and after your confirmation didn’t want the Spaniard anywhere near the potential of a fight.

After clearing some things with the security guards, they let you stay and Lucy was dragging you over to the table many of your teammates had gone to sit at, the rest following close behind you. 

Ona slid into the booth next to you with a bag of ice in her hand, and reaching up with her free hand to grab your chin and turn your head to assess the damage, “Are you okay? You know I hate it when you do that.”

You were waving your arm dramatically, clearly still affected by the alcohol in your system, “He wanted to take you home I was protecting you both.”

She had a soft smile and pressed the bag of ice to your cheek, which you took over holding against your face, “I know you were, but you could’ve gotten hurt a lot worse.”

“I don’t care,” You leaned closer to whisper in her ear, clearly having forgotten you had already spilled your secret, “You’re carrying precious cargo, Baby Mami.”

Ona chuckled and patted your thigh, “No point in whispering now, amor, you already announced it.”

You turned to see the rest of your team giving you both dumbfounded and shocked looks, but Alexia, Aitana, Mapi, and Ingrid just smirking to themselves.

Alexia was the first to speak up from across the table, “So, you two are having a baby?”

You moved your free hand to rest on your girlfriend’s stomach and smiled as Ona replied, “Yep, baby y/l/n-Batlle is due in May. We were going to tell you all after the break, but tonight was my last match for the season, I’m about to be fifteen weeks, so no more matches.”

You were met with a lot of congratulations from your teammates when Lucy finally connected the dots and pointed at you, “So this is why you’ve been so unbearably protective over her recently.”

You defended yourself, “She’s carrying precious cargo, that’s the future best player in the world in there,” You patted her small bump, and the brunette covered your hand with hers.

This caused a smile to breakout on Ona’s face and laughs spread around the table. Ona had decided you had enough to drink, and she was exhausted having played 70 minutes today, so announced that you would be heading home. It took a few minutes before you were finally out the door, having to go through and hug every one of your teammates and being told congratulations by each one of them. 

The next day the two of you flew to England for the first half of break, you would spend Christmas with your family before coming back to Spain to spend the rest with Ona’s family who you saw more often. 

Since the secret was already out to your teammates and your families had already known for weeks while home in England you and Ona were able to tell a few of your England and former Arsenal teammates you were closest with. 

While in London and met up with Leah, Lia, Lotte, Alessia, Beth, and Viv for lunch to share the news with them. Leah was especially moved when you told her, having been much like a big sister to you during your time at Arsenal. She couldn’t get past how grown up you were and that now were having a baby. Alessia did a lot of claiming that this all happened because of her setting you two up. While you’ll go to your grave denying her you can’t help but thank her slightly.

---

Thanks for reading everyone, I hope you enjoyed! Again, please leave any requests or prompts in my asks!

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

The Tiefling Bachelors Taking Care of Sick! Reader Getting Treatment

A/N: This was sitting in my drafts, finished months ago, but I guess I never posted it? Oh well, it’s here now! 

No one asked for this but it came to me as I was getting infused the other day. I really wanted Zevlor to manifest out of thin air and hold my hand  😔. Anyway, without further ado… Here we go!

Characters: Dammon/Reader; Rolan/Reader; Zevlor/Reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

TW: Brief discussions of illness, some fantasy medical talk

Dammon- 

Dammon is probably the most fussy of the trio. He’s bumbling around the tent, ensuring you have enough blankets and water. Or do you want tea? Juice? Whatever it is, love, name it and he will fetch it for you.

He means to be helpful although his nervous waiting on you does create an air of anxiety in the room. 

If he gets too manic, the healers have to send him out on an ‘errand’, so that he can collect his nerves and so you have time to yourself. 

When he returns, Dammon is much calmer, having been cornered and given a pep talk by one of the elder tieflings or your companions outside. 

He’ll sit across from you, and distract you by showing you his latest outlines/blueprints for swords and lathes and such. 

If you’re particularly stressed, or truly not feeling well due to the side-effects of the treatment, he might even show you his jewelry designs. Dammon was, of course, planning to give them to you as a present after you’d finished your treatment, but in the meantime, he’d like you to keep them in mind to have something forward to look to. 

If you’re sleepy, he’ll just stay at your side while you rest, sketching in his book or making idle chats with the healer. 

Dammon excels at ‘parallel play’ kind of dates. He quite enjoys it when the two of you are each doing their respective thing within a shared space. He’s more than comfortable amusing himself while you just chill out right next to him. 

Of course, before you leave, he asks the healers a million questions, scrambling down all their answers. How long will this last? What side effects should you look out for? What happens if things get worse? He wants to be prepared after they take their leave, and he sees it as his responsibility to take care of you as you recuperate. 

He’s really so sweet, like a little puppy dog. He’s not always the most helpful, and he has a tendency to get in the way, but his efforts never fail to lift your spirits at the end of the day.

Rolan-

Rolan is such a stickler for being an oppositional brat all the time. He gives everyone around him whiplash by turning into the most overbearing parental figure. You’d think he’d been possessed if it wasn’t for that trademark smirk of his. 

He’s constantly making you drink. No, he doesn’t care that you’re not thirsty, the healer said to stay hydrated throughout the process. And no, he doesn’t care that it means you have to get up to pee every 15 minutes. Urinary frequency is a small price to pay! Now be a good patient and drink your chamomile tea without any more complaining, yeah?

He watches the healers like a hawk, mentally recording their every word/move. He’s not a cleric or druid, but that doesn’t mean he’s entirely naive to healing magic. He wants to make sure whatever spells or potions you’re being given are up to his standard. 

And if the healing isn’t magical in nature... Oh boy, he’s going to be even more of a pill about it. He still hovers of course. But he also makes the occasional ‘helpful’ suggestion like: ‘I know a spell that could do that faster’, ‘Herbs are nothing compared to the power of the Weave’. The healers just roll their eyes and work around him. 

If he gets really grouchy, you’re gonna have to put him in a time-out. If not for your sake, then for the poor healers who are just trying to do their job. Rolan argues for a moment, but ultimately agrees, leaving to gather himself. 

When he comes back you can tell either Cal or Lia have spoken some sense into him, since he’s calmed down a bit. Rolan will sit with you, read to you, hold your hand if you beg ask, he might even perform a few tricks for you if you’re feeling up to it. 

He ushers the healers away as soon as they're done, wanting to just be alone with you. He puts up a tough exterior, but deep down he’s afraid. He cares for you so much. You, Cal, and Lia are his family, he feels it's his job to protect you, but try as he might he cannot protect you from your illnesses, and that hurts him deeply. 

You’ll need to comfort him once all this is all over. It’s as much an ordeal for him as it is for you.

Zevlor-

Zevlor is a worry-wart, bless his old paladin heart. His mind is always racing with endless possibilities- about the tieflings, about the grove, about you… It can be a lot for the commander to handle. 

But because Zevlor is a paladin and former hellrider, he has a good amount of experience working under pressure. He knows how to keep a level head and act on what is good for those around him, unlike what seems easiest to accomplish. 

He’s a very disciplined man, and he tries to get that discipline extended to you as you heal. He sets up a regime, for diet, exercise, and socializing catered especially to your needs and current abilities. He wants you to utilize this time to maximize your healing, and just let yourself trust that you are doing all you can to take care of yourself. 

He trusts the healers implicitly, knowing their expertise is much better suited to you and your current priorities. He’ll cater his regime around their recommendations, taking into accommodation your current feelings/moods of course. 

He writes out instructions for you to read while he’s away, busy tending to his duties. In the event he’s especially worried about watching over you, he’ll send Tilly or another one of his soldiers to check in on you periodically. 

Zevlor would love nothing more than to spend the entire day with you, keeping you safe in his embrace, but he’s wise enough to understand that even amidst these kinds of things, life must go on. He cannot abandon his duties as leader and you cannot abandon your life. 

Zevlor tries to maintain the status quo as best as possible, he doesn’t want your illness and treatments to entirely define your life, just as he wishes Elterel will not solely define his. 

Once all is said and done, he comes to find you, a warm broth in his hands. He settles down next to you as you sip your meal slowly, his tail coiling around your waist keeping you close to him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, you don’t need to. It’s clear to you what’s in Zevlor’s heart. 

The two of you just sit silently together, enjoying each other's company, as you brace yourselves for yet another new dawn. 

I hope you enjoyed! 

If you like my work, please consider Buying Me A Coffee!

And most importantly, please Like and REBLOG! 

[gyll-yee-haw]

Can you write an age gap fic where Jake is older than the reader, and maybe he's been getting in his head about it. Maybe one night they start making it, and he's in his head and can't get hard, and he freaks thinking this proves he's too old for his girl? Little angst, lot of fluff and smut lol

Hii, honey! Thank you for the amazing request, I got SO carried away with it lol... well, let's start 2024 with this one <3

Warnings: age gap, angst (talks of breaking up, anxiety attack), dry humping, cum in pants, slapping, dirty talk, oral (fem. recieving).

Like 4.1k words 💀

Jake sighed as he scrolled through the pictures of last weekend's red carpet event. Maybe was the bad lighting but... something seemed off. He looked so... different. But then... he looked at you. As gorgeous as always. He could swear you were getting more gorgeous every day. But he was just... aging.

He tried not to care about all the mean comments you both had to deal with, due to your age gap, but it was different when he could see it with his own eyes. How in a few years he would not only not be good looking enough for you, but he might also not... be able to give you the life you deserve. He wouldn't have the same energy or the same goals. What if he got sick and useless and you had to waste your life taking care of him?

His heart broke at that thought. He couldn't do that to you. But what was the other option? Breaking up with the love of his life?

His thoughts were interrupted by you opening the front door. He quickly locked his phone and threw it on the coffee table. He kinda hoped you hadn't seen those pictures... he thought you would feel less attracted to him if you realized what he just realized.

"Hi, baby." You almost moaned at the sight of him, so cozy on the sofa. You had such a long, stressful day and you just couldn't wait to be in his arms.

"Been thinking bout you all day." you sighed, straddling him. You felt him tense under you. "Want you so bad right now..."

"You do, baby?" He knew he would have to use his best acting skills to hide how tense he was. The problem was that he was never good at lying to you.

But maybe... sex would help. Help him relax, help him get his mind off all that... it's what the two of you always did after a stressful day, relax by pleasuring each other... maybe that was the key.

You kept rubbing your clothed core against his, as you kissed his neck and moaned obscenely. "Need you, Jake, need you so bad, oh my god..."

That would usually make him shiver, drive him so crazy he would have to take control immediately. But right now... he felt kinda overwhelmed. He felt like your body heat was too much and your words made his heart race, but just not in a good way.

God, he loved you. Those thoughts he was having... being so scared of losing you, was all because he loved you too much... he wanted to make you feel so good... it was like his mind and soul craved the same as you, but his body just wasn't responding.

Fuck. His body WASN'T responding. He grabbed your waist so much tighter than he usually does, making your hips move faster. He grunted as he kept forcing your hips, but NOTHING. Why wasn't him hard? Not even a little bit! For fucks sake, all it takes for you to get him hard is a look... now you were begging for it on his lap and NOTHING.

It broke his heart. His princess asking him something he just couldn't give... and what if... what if he just couldn't do it anymore?

"Jake!" You called. And by your tone, he could tell it wasn't the first time, he just couldn't listen. "Jake, please, stop, you're hurting me..."

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I..." he immediately let go of your hips, hands going straight to his face, rubbing it desperately.

"Jake? Baby? What's going on?" You grabbed his arms, removing his hands from his face, so he would look at you.

"Can't breath." He whispered.

"Calm down, baby, I'm right here, okay? You're safe, everything's okay, I promise." You placed both hands on his shoulders, taking deep breaths so he would follow.

"I'm so fucking sorry." He said, as soon as his heart rate normalized.

"For what, baby?" You brought a hand to his cheek, caressing it slowly.

"Can't do it." His words were vague, but the fact that he couldn't look you in the eyes gave away what he was talking about.

"Hey..." you sighed, giving him a tight hug. "It's okay, we don't have to. I mean, you never pressured me when I wasn't feeling like it. You have all the right in the world to say no. I'm actually very happy you did, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, okay? You should have told me sooner, I didn't mean to..."

"No, Y/N, you don't get it." He interrupted you, closing his eyes. "I really want to, but I can't."

"Baby, you have to tell me what's going on, you're scaring me..." you tried one more time to get him to look at you, but he just wouldn't. "Are you okay?"

He didn't say anything. You took a moment to look at him. Maybe you should have done that before starting anything, because he clearly looked upset. Exhausted, frustrated... you just couldn't understand why he wasn't talking.

"I'm gonna go get you some water, okay?" You asked sweetly, and he just nodded.

The feeling when his lap lost contact with you was both a relief and the start of brand new paranoias. He needed space. Needed to be in silence for a moment. But... symbolically, it hit him hard. He felt like he was losing you and he wished he would be strong enough to stop it. To hold you tightly, even if it made it hard to breathe.

You came back with a glass of water and sat beside him on the sofa. He accepted the glass with a fake smile and just looked at it for a moment. You waited patiently until he took a sip. He visibly calmed down a little bit.

"Do you think you can talk now?" You spoke calmly. "Or do you want to rest a bit?"

He wasn't sure. There was no point in delaying it, but, at the same time, he didn't even know where to start.

"Okay, we'll rest a bit." You added after waiting for his response, but getting nothing. "Why don't we watch a movie and cuddle a bit? Wouldn't that be perfect?"

"I..." he spoke for the first time in what felt like hours for both of you. "I would love that."

You felt relief wash over you after hearing his voice. You were sure he would be back to normal and finally open up soon now.

You grabbed the remote and chose whatever silly rom-com popped up, just as a distraction. He sat more comfortably and you sat between his legs, snuggling on his chest. His arms wrapped around you and you allowed your body to relax.

No words were spoken during the first half of the movie. Sometimes, his arms would wrap around you extra-tightly, as the anxiety of losing you peaked again, and as he calmed down, he would relax again, kissing the top of your head.

The result of being so relaxed inside your lover's embrace after a long, stressful day was obvious: you fell asleep. When Jake noticed, he chuckled sadly. You were so beautiful. So young and breathtakingly pretty... His fingertips traced your cheeks very lightly, afraid he would wake you up. He wished he could freeze that moment right there. But he knew he couldn't. He knew that time was running, flying, specially for him. He felt like he was rotting right beside you, as you laid peacefully, like a marble sculpted goddess.

His mind was flooded with what happened earlier. You had long forgotten, but in his head, you went to sleep extremely sexually frustrated. He felt disgusted by his old man flaccid cock. He couldn't imagine how you would want to touch it. And he knew you had a high sex drive. One he was always able to satisfy, but... now? And it would only get worse. Every minute that passed, it was getting worse. An agonizing ache filled his chest again. He was losing you.

Your eyes fluttered open to find him looking at you with the saddest expression you had ever seen on him. He didn't even try to hide it. He kept stroking your face and gave your forehead a long kiss.

"Jakey..." you whispered.

"My love." He whispered, lips still touching your skin. "My sweet girl."

"Yes, baby." You smiled, placing your hands on top of his. "I'm your girl. All yours."

You couldn't understand why that was the wrong thing to say at the moment, since he loved to hear it, but it clearly was. He sighed and eliminated all forms of physical contact between the two of you, standing up and walking in circles in front of you.

That's when it hit you. It was obvious that he didn't want to tell you because you were the problem. He didn't want to have sex with you, because you disgusted him. You wondered how long he had been faking it, because he looked fine when you left for work that morning... he just didn't know how to do it, how to end things, because he was too nice to hurt you.

"I get it." You said, feeling your heart break. "Do you want me to leave?"

He stopped walking and looked at you.

"Baby..." he sighed.

"Don't call me baby." You replied, angrily. "I wish I had realized this before."

Your words hurt him more than a knife could ever do. So, he didn't have to say anything. In the end, you realized it all by yourself. Maybe it was his failure earlier? You didn't even want to try again to see if he could do it... well, maybe it was better like this. You couldn't waste your precious time and beauty with him anymore. And he was relieved that you realized that.

But his relief turned to panic as he saw you stand up and walk towards your shared bedroom. He followed you.

"What are you doing?" He questioned.

"Leaving." You spoke shortly, because if you tried to explain any further, you would cry, and you really didn't want to do that in front of him.

"But... but we should talk first..." he insisted. He knew you had to. He wanted the best for you, but when shit got serious, he started doubting everything.

"Oh, now you want to talk?" You clapped back, immediately regretting it. It didn't matter what he was doing to you, he was clearly having an anxiety attack earlier and you knew you should respect his time. "Shit, I'm sorry. I know you weren't feeling well, I just..."

"No, you're right." He interrupted you. "I was selfish. I shouldn't have allowed it to go this far."

"This far?" You frowned. "You're a fucking coward. What is it? You never fucking loved me, then you allowed me to move in and share a life with you for all these years because you didn't want to tell me the truth?"

"You can call me whatever you want." He raised his voice a bit. "But don't you dare think for a second that I didn't love you. Because I am going to love you for the rest of my life, I'm just trying to do what's best for you."

"Bullshit." You rolled your eyes, getting so close to him that your bodies touched, looking him in the eye, lips dangerously close. "Doing what's best for me is such BULLSHIT, fucking own what you're doing."

Well shit. Wrong time. A little late for that. But he was getting seriously turned on. Your anger. Your body and your words challenging him. The enormous sense of ownership he felt as soon as you said you were leaving... before he could think, he grabbed your wrists and pushed you against the wall, kissing you hungrily. Your hands tried to free themselves from his tight grip, but it was useless, the way his body pressed against yours made you absolutely weak.

"Don't do this, don't do it, please..." you begged as soon as he broke the kiss for air. "Don't fuck me cause you feel sorry for me, it's not fair..."

"I don't feel sorry for you." He was genuinely confused. "I fucking love you. Fucking love you, do you understand? Have to show you."

You didn't know anything anymore. Five minutes ago you were sure he didn't want you anymore... but that hunger in his eyes was the same one you saw every single time. Nothing changed. You didn't know what was his problem, all you knew was that you were going to let him take whatever he wanted from you, hoping to solve it.

His hands finally released yours, meeting your waist, but very differently from what they did earlier. This grip was familiar. The one used to keep your hips still as he absolutely destroyed your insides. Your body recognized it well and automatically made you crave him.

His lips left a trail of messy kisses and incomprehensible words all over your neck as his hips grinded against your lower abdomen, relieving the tension on his rock-hard cock. Part of him was terrified it would go away, so he kept going. And it was driving you CRAZY. He would often tease you, but that was another level.

"Jake, please, need you..." you begged.

Your words brought him back to the moment you said them earlier, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He had to keep up. If he disappointed you again, he knew he would have to let you go.

"Can't stop, baby, feels so good..." he replied, completely lost in the moment.

You moaned at the obscenity of the scene. The way your boyfriend grinded his cock desperately against you, so desperate he couldn't even wait to get undressed. The way his body had you pressed against the wall made it impossible for you to touch yourself. You knew you could come just from watching that scene if it went on for long enough. But it didn't.

Soon, his movements got messier.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum..." he moaned, teeth sinking into your neck.

"Come on, Jakey, do it..." you motivated him, desperate for it to end so you could get absolutely anything. "Cum for me, baby, need you to feel so good..."

"Fuck..." he moaned, hips bucking in a familiar way. He was so close.

"Yes, baby, keep going..." you smiled, as you saw him losing himself in pleasure. "Look at you, fucking cumming in your pants like a horny fucking teenager..."

That did it for him. He grunted like an animal. Came so much you could feel your belly wet from it, leaking through his pants.

"Fuck, Jacob." You rested your head against the wall, exhausted like you were the one who just came that hard. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm sorry." He kept his eyes shut, still pressed against you as he tried to catch his breath.

"Don't apologize, that was so fucking hot..." you moaned, pulling his hair.

"I don't want you to leave..." he whimpered.

You stopped everything. You were horny as hell, but there was something wrong with him and you needed to know. You couldn't stand the idea of fucking him then immediately getting dumped.

"Jake. I know you're struggling right now, okay? But you have to tell me what's going on if you want me to stay. At least... let me know if I did something wrong."

"You did nothing wrong." He separated your bodies, and you had to hold back a frustrated moan. He grabbed your hand and guided you to the bed, where you both sat down. "It's just... I've been thinking... you know what... it's so funny, you just called me a horny teenager..."

"Yeah, I mean, you just dry-humped me against a wall and blew a load in your pants, what am I supposed to say?" You smirked.

"Yeah, but I couldn't even get it up earlier." He said, frustratedly.

"Is that what this is about?" You frowned. "You're upset because..."

"Don't say it out loud." He cut you.

You started to laugh hysterically. And it didn't help that whenever you looked at his face, he looked like an absolutely confused idiot.

"What? Why are you laughing?" He tried to stop you.

"Jacob, that's so stupid." You took a deep breath to stop laughing. "So what? You're not a machine, it's okay if you don't feel like it sometimes. Oh god, if you hit me with the 'it never happened to me before', I swear I'm gonna laugh again."

"Well?" He thought he was supposed to be offended. But it really was kinda stupid, wasn't it? Some internalized sexism telling him to have a constant hard cock, ready to use, really for sex 24/7. He felt a little ridiculous. "I... I wasn't gonna say that, but I kinda have an explanation, if you want to hear it."

"Jake. You don't have to explain anything, baby." You reassured him. "It's not a problem. I'm glad we are talking about it, but it's not a big deal."

"No, you don't understand." He sighed. "I... listen, I know we've had this conversation before, but I feel like it's getting a little more real now. And I think we need to have it again, because you have to decide if this is still what you want."

Your eyes widened. Maybe it was a big deal.

"You're my everything, Y/N. But you're also... everything, just everything, you know? You're smart, and caring, and funny, and so fucking gorgeous, I can't... I can't describe what I see in you, what I know everyone out there sees in you." He continued. "And I can't help but feel like... I might not be enough for you in a few years. But then... after what happened earlier, I realized that I might... already not be good for you anymore."

"Jake..." you sighed. "You've been reading those stupid comments again?"

"No, no one told me anything, I've seen it with my own eyes." He explained. "I've seen pictures of us together and it's..."

"It's what?" You raised your eyebrows. "It's heavily edited or a terrible angle so the gossip pages can say I'm a gold digger? Or that you're some kind of monster who steal the innocence of helpless like girls?"

"Y/N..." he insisted. "We have to be realistic."

"Yes, Jake. Let's be realistic, then." You shrugged. "The truth is that I've been extremely happy, and all my emotional and physical needs completley satisfied. It's been like this for years and it will still be like this for years."

"You don't know that." He replied.

"Yes, I do. Trust me, I do." You caressed his face gently. "I'm sitting right in front of you and I'm seeing the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He has the same eyes he had on the movies I've seen before meeting him. The same gorgeous smile. I see some changes on your face and they make me so happy... to see that we're growing older together. That's a beautiful thing."

"I know, honey, but at some point I may not give you what you need anymore." He melted under your touch, placing a hand on top of yours.

"What if something happened to me tomorrow and you had to take care of me? And I was the one who couldn't give you anything anymore? Would you leave me?" You challenged him.

"It's different. That's probably not gonna happen. But we know that this is happening to me right now. And it will only get worse." He explained.

"There's nothing happening, Jake!" You chuckled. "Come on, you're healthier than me, you know that. And you know that what happened earlier only did because you were stressed."

"Maybe not?"

"Maybe not?" You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, I mean... it's so difficult for you to get an erection nowadays that you got one while I was fucking threatening to leave you."

He left out the most delicious laugh. That one he has. That one that turns your pupils into heart shapes.

"You're an IDIOT." You laughed with him, sitting on his lap and giving him a tight hug.

"I'm just worried about you. I just want to make sure you're happy." He sighed.

"Yes, sir, thanks for checking." You mocked him, but got back to a more serious tone afterwards. "It's okay if you want to have this conversation once in awhile. Just know that my answer is never going to change. I will always want you. I know things will change, but we went through so many changes already, and I love every single phase we live."

"Thank you." He whispered, gently grabbing your face for a passionate kiss. "I will always want you too."

He kept kissing you and for the first time in a while he didn't feel like time was rushing. He felt like he belonged on that moment. You, on the other hand, were getting a little impatient. You could feel his cock hardening again under you, and you craved it more than wanted to admit.

"Jake?" you whispered against his lips.

"I know, baby." He chuckled. "My girl needs a bit of attention, huh?"

"Yes, please..." you begged. "I'll take anything you give me, just... need your attention."

"My attention, little girl?" He asked sarcastically, picking you up from his lap and throwing you on the bed. "I know you better than that, think you need my cock."

You pressed your thighs together at his words. Big mistake. He forced them open, running his hand from your neck to your core. He had you bucking your hips at the mere contact of his hand over your clothes, and that made his confidence improve. Again, big mistake.

It's just that... you've been craving him all day, and the way there was still a wet patch of his cum on both of your clothes... it made you go feral.

He removed your pants, fingers rushing to rub your clit through your panties.

"No... no, Jake, please..." you tried to push his hand away.

"What's wrong, baby?" He asked, very confused. "I can fucking smell how wet you are."

"Exactly." You explained, still trying to push him away, but he kept teasing you. "Gonna cum so fast, I don't want to, I wanna ride you..."

"Fuck, baby..." he felt his cock throb at your words. "Will you be patient for me?"

"Don't want to..." you frowned.

"You don't want to?" He raised his eyebrows. "What do you want, then? To be a fucking brat? Tell you what... I'll only give you my cock if you cum first."

You moaned frustratedly as he pulled your underwear down. And moaned even louder when his tongue made contact with your core, diving into your wetness like he was tasting you for the first time. He devoured your pussy like he was trying to prove something to himself. But you were too lost in pleasure to worry about that. The noises, both coming from your wetness and from his mouth, cause he enjoyed eating you out just a little too much, were loud enough to make you feel like you had to scream.

"FUCK, I'M COMING, JAKE, I'M COMING RIGHT NOW, FUCK!"

And he didn't stop until you pushed his head with all the strength you had left.

"Good girl." He smirked. "Still wanna ride me? Or you're to tired?"

"Wanna ride you, give me a minute, fuck..." you shivered, just imagining something touching your sensitive pussy at that moment.

"Can't wait much, baby, I..." he seemed a little embarrassed. "Eating this gorgeous pussy got me too worked up..."

"Yeah?" You smirked. "Don't tell me you're gonna cum in your pants again... so pathetic..."

"Feeling brave, little girl?" He laughed darkly.

You didn't have an answer to that. And you didn't need one. He quickly flipped you over, giving your ass a loud slap.

You heard him undressing behind you, and got all excited. Ass in the air for him to use... except... he didn't. You heard him stroking himself. You looked back, begging him with your eyes.

But that only made him stroke himself faster, and you almost cried as you felt his cum painting your ass, without feeling an inch of his cock inside you.

"Next time you want something, you better be nice." He said, giving your ass another slap.

You were in shock. Wrecked and still wanting more.

"Now give this old man some rest." He said, grabbing your face and giving you a little kiss on the tip of your nose. "And if you behave, I might be nice too."

[drdemonprince]

the porn addiction anon made me think to ask, do you have an opinion on viewing self-harm behaviors as an addiction?

i personally have found it to be a helpful way of looking at my relationship with it and fairly accurate to my experience with urges and tolerances etc, and i don't personally care whether it's ever officially considered an addiction or not, but i am curious about the conversation about it and your opinion if you have one.

thank you for reading this and if you respond, thank you for your response!

I think that the 'addiction' frame for self-harm can make the most sense if you're personally on board with a goal of abstinence -- but I would still caution against it somewhat, as research generallly suggests that when a person views a behavior pattern as being caused by an 'addiction' they are less likely to feel that they have agency over it, and are more likely to experience shame when they experience relapses.

What I find most appealing and helpful in understanding self-harm, both for myself and others, is to appreciate the multiple needs that the self-harm typically satisfies. This can be things like providing an endorphin rush, distracting from a disturbing situation, a physical outlet for emotional pain, a means of conveying to others that you are suffering, a source of stimulation, a means of grounding oneself within one's body, an intense enough sensation to shock you out of dissociation, a way to burn off excess energy, an acceptable outlet for one's anger, a way to take control over one's own body, a means of accessing privacy, a means of expressing a meltdown or any number of other things.

When we can see that self-harm is beneficial and sensible in several key ways, it's easier to view it as just one option among many for meeting a person's needs -- and sometimes it might be the best option! Appreciating what self-harm meaningfully does for us allows us to make clearer decisions about what is lacking or painful for us in life at the moment, and minimizing the unwanted damage caused by it. This framing also centers the self-harming person as having the authority to determine what is best for their own life, even while honoring that they might require support getting their needs satisfied.

For example, I used to look down on my excessive exercise habit as solely an eating disorder symptom, one that I was "addicted" to and shamefully couldn't shake. But any time I tried to force myself to not exercise the way I wanted to, I felt cranky, pent up, resentful, stressed, and was actually prone to more damaging forms of self-harm.

It was only after reading more about harm reductionist approaches to eating disorders that I figured out that the long walks I love to go on are not *only* a means of purging, though that is how they began -- they also provide me a needed energy valve, a space to meditate and daydream, an excuse to get away from people when I'm feeling trapped, and a daily obligation that for many years prevented me from overworking, because it consumed up so much time in my day.

I was most prone to long, long, longgg walks that bordered on physically damaging when I was trapped in a house that was not emotionally safe to me, completely overwhelmed with stress due to school and work, and unaware of the sensory and energy-expenditure needs related to my neurodivergence. Now that I'm in a better situation, I still need to exercise almost every day to keep my anxiety and rage even somewhat at bay, but I don't need to do it for *hours*, and I'm making my body stronger rather than weakening myself. I have other ways of addressing my sensory needs, seeking privacy, finding stimulation, and so on. Compared to others I can still seem a bit compulsively physical, exercising even when I am sick, and when I can't work exercise into my daily schedule I do get fucking irate -- but really, what's the problem? It doesn't really qualify as self-harm anymore.

The same logic works on most of the other forms of self-harm I have exhibited, too, from seeking out abusive relationships to reading transphobic hate forums. I did those things because I was completely emotionally blunted, depressed, isolated, and craving stimuli that reinforced my existing self-hatred. And those forms of self-harm intellectually engaged me, filled me with excitement, and shocked my system in ways both good and bad. I'm glad I don't do that shit anymore mostly, but it didn't get better because I realized I was "addicted" to self-harming or anything like that. I had to work on addressing the unmet need.

I hope that others who view self-harming differently will sound off in the notes, because I do think the forms my self-harm has taken are significantly different from things like cutting, burning, etc, and what works for me won't work for everybody else. For the most part I have only physically struck myself when I'm in the midst of a meltdown, so that form of self-injury hardly even ranks as "self harm" to me because it's not really intentional.