#u know he is asking everyone this question

[323cutie]

let me have tonight. | jwy

pairing ୨୧ wooyoung x reader

word count ୨୧ 440

genre ୨୧ angst? hurt/comfort, established relationship, bpd coded reader, wooyo taking care of u <3

warnings ୨୧ mental illness, dissociating?, not really a breakdown but an Episode of sorts

author's note ୨୧ realizing now that the pic im using for this is kinda sexy when the fic itself is not sexy. Anyways. sometimes you think you're losing it and just need wooyo to walk you thru it. hope everyones doing ok and if u need it u find some comfort in this <3

It’s late.

You don’t know how late, or how long you’ve been up. Don’t really remember when Wooyoung got here, either. He’s warm. You think you can hear the stars twinkling.

It happens like this, sometimes – misty, and weird. Colors you don’t know and feelings that don’t have names. A strange emptiness that is always cut off so sharp by the worst of your emotions, a headache of all of your fears at the forefront. Tears that drown your eyes and make your face burn. And a million questions that you don’t even remember thinking – does no one care? Am I really that bad? How am I so alone?

You think it’s like dissociating, maybe. Wooyoung shifts, releasing his hold on you just barely enough to look down at you. You blink, and he asks, “feeling hungry?”

You aren’t sure, but you nod anyways. Your brain is starting to come back to you, telling you it’s been a while, telling you to drink water, telling you to make sure Wooyoung doesn’t go too far. He walks into your kitchen and you follow.

The candle burning on your island smells like him. You swallow and try to keep it in, stand and try not to fall over. You wonder what he thinks of you like this, lost and scared and begging for attention. You think it must be pity keeping him here, nothing more than shallow obligation, a nagging –

Wooyoung’s eyes are warm when they meet yours, shining with love. Hearts, if you look close enough. Fond under your unflattering kitchen light, scouring through your pantry to see what he can use to make you something to eat – going out of his way. He asks if you have any tofu, he’ll make you kimchi stew, but you can’t focus on that right now.

One, two strides across your kitchen before you’re hugging him, tight and purposeful. Wooyoung giggles like he’s surprised but immediately reciprocates, eager to have you close like always. He smells so lovely, like home, feels real against you. Genuine, loving, honest.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble into his shirt. He makes an indignant noise like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about (like he hasn’t spent the whole day, or night, or all of it, taking care of you. Making sure you’re there. Letting you attach yourself to him because you’re scared he’ll leave if you don’t). “Thank you. I love you.”

He softens under your words. Pliant enough to lean into you even more than he already is. His voice is clear, the mist in your mind gone. He murmurs it like it’s a secret between the two of you: “You know I love you more.”

[baocean]

starting over - rafe cameron [four]

smau! rafecameron x youtuber!reader

summary: you’ve moved back to the obx after 4 years of growing your career in california. your friendships stayed afloat during your time away, you can’t say the same about your relationship. but rafe hears your back in town, and it set on not letting you go this time.

masterlist | three | four | five |

rafecam: 👶🏼🐕‍🦺🍾🏎️

kelcee: So aesthetic king!

↳ ruthieslife: so sassy

sarahcam: awww the pic of the three of us 🥹🥹

tthorton: Loving this sign of life bro!

↳ kelcee: Gets left on read ONCE and immediately goes MIA

↳ rafecam: That’s enough thank you! 🤗

barryrusso: We get it u drive a Porsche and go to parties

↳ rafecam: Did you not see that I also hang out with dogs?

wheeziecameron: THE PIC OF US THATS SO CUTE

↳ wheeziecameron: I didn’t know you liked me 🥹

↳ rafecam: I don’t ❤️

sighing, you looked over at jj. he turned to look back at you, giving you a questioning glance.

“rafe.” that was all you had to say, he nodded knowingly.

“as your friend, i say give it some time. you just got here.” jj shrugged his shoulders and you smiled.

jj had been your friend for a few years now. he’d been the #1 person for boy advice for, like, 5 years.

“yea, you’re probably right. alright, i’ve got to go edit some videos.” you sat up from the bean back chair, placed in the corner of jj’s room.

“what videos did you film?” he asked you, standing up with you.

“a get ready with me, and i talked about weird things my family did growing up. and i did a baking video with cleo that i’ll probably put out tomorrow morning.”

“that sounds fun, can’t wait to watch them,” jj smiled at you, “whatever you end up doing with rafe, we’ll be there for you. it might hurt for a while, but you will be okay.”

“thanks j.” you pulled him into a hug, letting yourself relax into your friend.

you said your goodbyes, drove the ten minute distance back to your house. everyone was home, all five of your siblings and your parents.

you found talking about your childhood with your siblings so easy, that’s why you had made a video about them a few days ago.

it was loud in your house, just the way you liked it. ethan and mikey playing video games in the living room, willa was coloring at the table, humming her own little tune, liv and asa were off in the workout room, asa’s rap playlist blasting in the distance.

it was completely calming, in all its chaos. something comforting and familiar, exactly what you needed right now.

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️NINETEEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN FIFTEEN◾SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN NINETEEN

After manipulating her into saying no to him, he watches with growing admiration how well she is taking her punishment.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Sex toys under clothing. Edging. Orgasm denial. Semi-public oral sex. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 5.9k

EIGHTEEN 🟥 NINETEEN 🟥 TWENTY

He has his arm around her waist and his thumb on the dial in the app, the buzzing noise growing louder when he moves it. She's squirming in his hold, nails digging into his arm as she presses her lips together, fighting the sensations pulsing away inside her holes. He's conscious of their surroundings, for now the restroom is empty, they are alone in their stall at the far back, but knowing the amount of people walking around outside, this may change any second, so he hurries things along a little.

“Tell me why you are being punished,” he says softly, leaning down to her.

Her pleading eyes are big, glistening, pupils dilated. “I... I was...” Her voice is shaking, cut up by gasps and stuttered moans, body convulsing against him under the assault of the vibrating toys stuck in her cunt and ass. “I was ungrateful...” she croaks out. “I was questioning... your... your generosity...”

The comment about why she's even had to pack her old things when he won't allow her to use them wasn't even that fresh on his mind, but she seems to have given it some thought, so why not include it. “And?” he asks, increasing the strength of the buzzing even further.

She howls quietly, pressing her flushed face into his arm for a moment, her whole body shaking badly, then she forces herself to look at him again.

“And... and I... I said no... when you... you wanted to make me... make me come... in the diner...” she stammers, lips quivering, eyebrows furrowed, hips bucking unconsciously against his leg, a frail attempt to relieve some tension.

He tilts his head, watching her, thumb moving up yet another inch. A groan escapes her when she's spasming against him, hands so tight around his arm she's almost cutting off his circulation.

“You denied me,” he says calmly, eyes raking over her shuddering body, down to where her wetness drips down her thighs.

“Y-yes, I did... I did...” she whines.

“You were ungrateful.”

“Yes, yes, I was...”

He hums softly, then moves his thumb all the way down, stopping the vibrations altogether. She gasps, the sudden loss of stimulation making her stumble. A disappointed wail slips past her trembling lips.

It takes her a moment to collect herself, her grip on him easing, her head lowered, her breaths rapid, chest heaving. Then she sniffles, shoulders sagging, and she says: “I'm sorry.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” he replies softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. “But you understand that there have to be consequences, right?”

“Yes, sir,” she answers, inhaling sharply.

“Good,” he concludes and sighs deeply, turning the screen off to slip his phone into his pocket. He lets go of her, leans her against the wall, and gathers the clothes she's exchanged for the new outfit he's bought her. The blouse makes her look a little older, the skirt however pulls a different association to mind. To find this kind of item in a mainstream store like this has surprised him, but he's happy he's found it.

The perfect length to show off her legs (and the welts on the backs of her thighs, a clear sign of his possession for the knowing eye, an unfortunate display of strange horizontal red lines for the innocent bystander), and if she isn't careful or if the wind bullies her too much, everyone will see the leather straps of the harness holding the toys inside her. It was either that or her bare cunt, but again, to the unknowing eye, some people will only see a black thong digging deep between her ass cheeks, while others will know her secret.

He could have just spanked her and be done with it, but he thought a little humiliation (or the idea of it) would be a better punishment. She denied him, too afraid to let go in a public place (and they weren't even that public, in their corner in the diner, she just had to keep quiet, but she's clearly not there yet), and if she's not ready to climax, she will not do so for the rest of the day. That's the plan.

She watches him out of hooded eyes, not daring to move just yet with those toys inside her. He looks her over, then sighs, putting the bag down again. His hands find her flushed face, and he tries to wipe the sweat and tears away, smooths her hair, makes her more presentable again, he even crouches down in front of her, nudging her legs apart and inspects the wetness level between them.

Running a hand over her soaked skin, he deems it tolerable and unnoticeable. Standing up again he wipes the same hand over her rear, teasing the harness. She flinches, but stays silent, looking like she wants to cry some more.

“Hey, it'll be alright,” he tells her, gently brushing his knuckles against her chin to make her look up. “I'll be right by your side wherever we go. You, me, and your two new best friends,” he adds, giving her plump rear a reverberating slap that makes her jump against him with a gasp.

She remains uncertain, timid and possibly also a little cranky, but she'll get used to it. It's not like this is the first time she's wearing them, though the last time has been too short for his liking, not public enough. He'll change that now.

Picking up the bags again, he then grabs her hand and opens the stall door, pulling her after him. She's wobbly, not just because of the cargo inside her, but those shoes seem to cause her quite some trouble too, even though he chose the wedges, giving her more ground coverage instead of those pointy high heels. He guides her to the sinks and pushes the bags into her hands while he quickly washes his. Drying them with some paper towels, he keeps watching her in the mirror.

“Does it hurt? Be honest.”

She shakes her head, swallows hard. “Just feels... weird, full. They move with every step.” Her voice is that quiet hum, kind of defeated, flat. She's probably focusing her energy elsewhere.

“They're supposed to. You'll want to feel them...” He takes the bags from her and grabs her hand again. “Come on, step after step, you can do this. Remember, the more normal you act, the less people will notice you.”

She huffs something of a scoff, and he lets her, smirking at the little pout on her lips. Her hand squeezes his fingers when they start walking, and he takes it slow, guides her out of the restroom and across the parking lot. It's packed, but nobody gives them a second glance. He unlocks his car and opens the door for her, watching in growing amusement how she clambers inside, wincing and whining quietly before she settles on the seat, pressing her thighs together so hard they're trembling.

He leans over her and buckles her in, brushing his nose against her cheek as he does so. “You're doing great, darling,” he praises her, savoring the little inhale that vibrates in his ear.

She watches him when he leans back, and he winks at her before he closes the door with a soft thud. Once he's sitting behind the wheel, he turns to her, tilting his head.

“So, where do you want to go?” he asks, relishing in the confusion washing over her flushed face. “There's a farmer's market nearby, we can look for fresh vegetables for tonight's dinner? But I don't feel like cooking, to be honest...”

“You cook?” she breathes out before he can give her more options.

A laugh escapes him. She sounds a bit too surprised. He may have the means to hire first class chefs and never have the need to bend a finger, but sometimes he prefers doing it himself. “I do, yes, occasionally, if the mood strikes. Maybe I'll show you one day.”

There's a soft twitch to her lips. “I'd like that,” she whispers.

“Yeah?” he repeats, equally surprised now. “Hmm, that does sound nice, doesn't it? You can help me, cut some vegetables, maybe wear a cute little apron and nothing else...” She turns her face away with a little croak, and he chuckles again. “One day, baby.”

She only hums, twisting her fingers into the short hem of her skirt.

“We could also go to the mall, how about that spa treatment I promised you before? Manicure, pedicure, Brazilian wax?”

She stares back at him with wide eyes, and he finds it just a tad too amusing.

“Don't worry, I like you just the way you are,” he says quietly, his hand finding its way to her thigh. He told himself to deny her any touches, but he already knows he can't keep that up for long. He likes to feel her soft skin under his calloused fingers, her warmth, the little shivers.

She blushes softly, licking her lips. He squeezes her leg.

“Some more shopping then?” he suggests, trying to think of more things to do where she has to walk and be in public. He'd know where to go in the city, but they're a few hours outside of it, and he has to take what is being given to him. “I think there's even a cinema in that mall...”

A glint goes through her eyes at that, making him smile. “Mall sounds okay,” she says quietly, her eyes moving from his hand to his face and back, shy, timid, unsure. So incredibly cute and innocent.

He starts the engine. “Mall it is then,” he replies, patting her thigh before shifting the car into gear and driving off the parking lot. At the first red light, he shifts on his seat and fumbles his phone out of his pocket, ignoring the missed calls and going straight into the vibrator app.

“I almost forgot,” he tells her, and she stares at him, hands braced on the seat beside her when he moves his thumb up on the screen, setting both toys on a five. It's mild, but still more than nothing, and she can obviously tell when soft little whines escape her. “No need to keep the noises down in here, baby. Just let go... but remember: you are not allowed to come.”

She swallows audibly and nods. “Yes, sir,” she whispers, sitting stiff in her seat, just letting the pulses go through her now.

He gives her a nod and puts his phone in the compartment between their seats, not without glancing at the accumulated messages. He can't be bothered today, though. He's paying enough people a lot of money to take care of his businesses, they will be able to handle whatever is stressing them out without him today.

By the time they reach the large mall, his mind has nevertheless wandered to the club, and he can imagine the worried faces of his men as they try again and again to reach him. Pulling into a parking spot right in the middle, he grabs his phone and unlocks it, then throws a side glance at the silent girl beside him.

She has her eyes closed, a concentrated look on her face, hands clenched around the edge of the seat. He wants to give her a break, but instead of turning the toys off, he amps them up to a ten. She cries out, her eyes flying open, her betrayed look almost enough to make him feel sorry. He slides his thumb higher, eleven, twelve, then settles on thirteen.

Her body shudders, legs trembling, her lips parted as quiet moans slip past them. She's squirming on the seat, face flushed, eyes watering, her noises growing louder, quicker, eyelids fluttering, eyes twitching, about to roll back – but then he taps the Turn Off button and she deflates almost immediately, thrashing her head against the back of the seat in frustration, a loud groan escaping her throat.

He only clicks his tongue, and her shoulders sag, lips quivering as she presses them into a pout. “Stay here,” he tells her, waiting for her to look at him, then gives her a pointed stare. She nods, her chest still heaving when she relaxes back into the seat.

He exits the car and closes the door, then dials the club. As he listens to the updates, gives orders and confirms settled arrangements, while also easing the worries of concerned employees, he keeps watching the girl, so tiny in his car, fragile, helpless. Taking her punishment like a champ. He loves teasing her, but he already knows he'll give her so much more come tonight. She may not deserve it, but this is about him as well, and he certainly deserves to bury his cock deep in that beautiful little cunt. And that tight little ass. And that even tighter little throat.

Just thinking about it makes him hard, and he has to put a hand into his pocket to adjust himself discreetly. The temptation with this girl. This was about making her take the walk of shame, but it won't be particularly easy for him either. Maybe he won't even wait for tonight.

Once the call has ended, he walks around to her side and opens the door, leans in to unbuckle her and holds out his hand when he straightens up again. She takes it, it's shaking, but her grip is firm as she tries to gracefully get out of his car. There's still a wobble to her steps, she's stiff and literally walks as if she has a stick up her ass, which couldn't be closer to the truth, but she can't walk around like that.

His hand is on her lower back when he leans down to her. “Act normal,” he tells her. She breathes loudly through her nose, looking up at him. “I'm trying,” she whispers. He raises an eyebrow, ready to scold her with an “Attitude, young lady”, but then she grabs his hand and smiles at him.

She is trying. Brave little girl.

He brushes his lips against her cheek, smiling back at her when he leans up again. His hand moves to close around hers, and she's eagerly curling her small fingers around his thumb, giving it a soft squeeze. Together they take the first step away from the car, and she flinches, the next one, another wince, the third one, she's becoming quieter, and by the time they reach the front doors, she's walking more or less normally, still a little stiff (but that could also be because of the unfamiliar shoes), her grip tight (little labored breaths puffing from her nose), her cheeks bright red (which totally suits her anyway), but she's trying.

They've spent the last hour just strolling through the vast shopping mall, casually, mostly window shopping, occasionally he pulls her to the side and shows her something on the various displays, just to let her catch her breath. She's still flushed, tense, her hand sweaty, her legs trembling, but he couldn't be more proud. “You're doing great,” he tells her quietly, feeling her small body shaking against his.

Luckily the mall isn't as crowded on this ordinary Tuesday. There are still a lot of people, but they come and go in groups, and he notices some of them looking their way, but it's nothing new to him. Maybe they've seen his face somewhere before. Maybe they like looking at the girl by his side with her short skirt and beautiful legs, particularly toned today with how she's balancing on her shoes. Maybe they aren't even looking at them after all.

He has no reason to be paranoid right now, she, however, keeps looking around nervously, squeezing his hand or turning her body just in time before someone can see the welts on the backs of her thighs. He's enjoying the sight more and more, it's been a moment of weakness, an unfair punishment, but seeing his marks on her, no matter how they came to be, makes him feel proud (and painfully hard).

If he doesn't take care of this soon, he might attract more stares than her.

But he has to be patient for a little longer, even if the images of her on her knees keep haunting him as they continue their stroll. He could take her right here, back pushed against the store front, caged in by his body, lips strained around his cock, and just the idea of people walking past and seeing them like that makes his cock twitch against the confines of his jeans.

He's never been particularly fond of public humiliation, not like that, it's his reputation on the line as well. Most of the city knows him as a business man, successful, relentless, good in what he does, he's the face of several prominent establishments, from nightclubs and restaurants to bars and even a few exclusive fashion stores, but his main focus lies on the nightclub he uses for far more than selling alcohol to dance enthusiasts.

It's how he came to be where he is now, why he can indulge in pleasures nobody knows about. And he wants to keep it that way. So no making the girl giving him head in the middle of the mall. Too bad. But he'll find other corners, maybe even drag her back into yet another restroom, who knows. He has the whole rest of the day to figure something out.

A tug to his wrist pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks down at the girl next to him, whose cheeks are a little bit more flushed than before. He raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”

She bites her lip nervously, shifting from one foot to the other. “I... I gotta...” she mumbles, and even though she doesn't finish her sentence, he understands, opting to let it slide and not make her say it properly.

“Come on then,” he says with a sigh.

Looking around, he then drags her towards the restrooms which are separated here, unlike the mixed one at the department store, and he ponders what would be less strange: a man in the women's bathroom or a girl in the men's. He chooses the latter, and gently pulls her into the long room past the urinals to the stalls in the back. Luckily they are alone for now.

“Need help with the harness?” he asks quietly, watching her as he pushes her gently into the stall. She purses her lips, averts her eyes, but then lifts her skirt, her thighs trembling slightly. He chuckles softly and steps into the stall as well, pushing the door shut.

He tries to be quick about it, to loosen the leather straps from around her mound to allow him to pull the dildo out of her cunt. She groans quietly when he does, her silky flesh dragging along the silicone. Her scent hits his nostrils and it's overwhelming, making his cock throb just a bit more. Holding the drenched toy, he tilts his head. “The other too?”

She is still not looking at him, shame burning along her exposed skin, then she shakes her head.

He exhales loudly. “Alright then,” he says and turns around, playing with the vibrator between his fingers. “Be quick about it.”

“You... you're staying?” she stammers, alarm in her soft voice.

“You can't go with me here?” he replies, unable to hide his amusement. “Don't be ashamed, baby, nothing I haven't seen and heard before.”

He can feel her shuffle behind him, then he hears the quiet thud of the toilet lid and a strange tapping sound, and he figures she's creating noises with her fingernails on the wall to distract from other noises, and he just sighs. It's cute how embarrassed she is, and it's probably a natural reaction, especially since they really barely know each other, but these last days should have been intense and intimate enough for her to loosen up around him.

Eventually he hears water flushing, and when he turns around, she's standing in front of the toilet with her head still lowered, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

He opens the door then, looks around, then nods towards the sinks. She follows, quickly washes her hands, before he steps behind her, dildo in hand. Her eyes widen in the mirror when he puts his hand on her back and makes her lean forward slightly before he prods the toy back between her folds right away, right in the open, very noticeable should someone enter the restroom. She squirms, wails quietly, hands clutching the sink, he should have probably prepared her better, but he doesn't have time (and frankly, he likes to see her writhing in discomfort a little too much).

Once the toy is back inside her, he crouches down and fixes the leather straps of the harness, then gives her a gentle slap on her soft butt that makes her jump when he straightens up again. Her breaths are labored, her hips moving slightly as she adjusts to being filled up once more. When she finally meets his eyes again, her cheeks are bright red. “Thank you,” she whispers, licking her lips. He smiles softly as he leans past her and washes his hands, then brushes his lips against her ear while grabbing a paper towel.

“Good girl,” he whispers, watching goosebumps spread down her neck.

He considers pulling her back into the stall and making her kneel and take his cock down her throat, but then refrains, still thinking about finding a better place. Public restrooms are a little degrading after all, even for him.

Taking her hand, he then pulls her after him (and she follows with unsteady steps), back into the loud, anonymous crowd of the mall.

Since first meeting her, he's known she is a quick learner, adjusts easily to whatever he throws at her, not always without fussing, but always submissive enough to meet his standards, and she's trying her best, and as he watches her walk beside him, almost completely normal, almost as if her holes weren't plugged up by a thick dildo each, he considers changing her punishment because she seems to enjoy herself a little too much.

She's cute, how she points to certain things to show him, how she squeezes his hand and smiles up at him, just happy to be spending time with him like this, like a normal couple, and the thought makes him frown. They are not, far from it, and she shouldn't be left in the impression that they are.

She is his, a body to use and do whatever he wants with, her purpose is to please him. And apparently it pleases him to just walk with her, because he finds himself relaxing and leaning into her, searching her warmth, waiting for her big eyes to meet his, for that innocent little smile. It's a strange sensation, definitely not something he's done often – if at all.

And as Mistress' words come back to him, accusing him of having gone soft, he inhales sharply, still fighting these changes the girl next to him unknowingly forces upon him. His hand closes a little tighter around hers as he pulls her towards one of the many cafes, those with the little tables that sit right in the middle of the large hallway, right in the open, with the streams of people having to walk around them, and he doesn't know if it's a good idea or not to choose one of those.

In the end it doesn't matter, and he's guiding her towards a table, pulls her chair out and lets her sit down first, watching the little strain on her face as she does, and she's still squirming on her seat as he sits down opposite her. Their knees touch under the table, and he puts his large hand on hers for a moment, watching her intently, causing her to stiffen, but ultimately calm down.

He's barely leaned back when a waitress comes to their table, a small young thing like the girl across from him, but this girl has a face full of make up, dark rimmed eyes, hair in a bouncy ponytail, and an almost obnoxious smile on her red lips. And she's exclusively looking at him.

“Hi!” she chimes, rocking on the balls of her feet excitedly. “What can I get you?”

He looks at her, a little disgruntled that he didn't even have time to look at the menu and that this young woman doesn't seem to be able to read the room (he has to remind himself that they are in a small town mall and not a five star restaurant), but then orders a coffee for himself, and an orange juice and a sandwich for the girl whose knees keep bumping into his. He thanks the waitress with a smile, an automatic gesture for him, and once she's bounced away again, he looks over the table to find a sight he hasn't expected.

She glares after the other girl, eyes narrowed and dark, a strange tension on her usually soft face. When she looks back at him, the same expression stays a moment longer, before she looks down and bites her lip, breathing deeply. He holds off wondering what that gaze was all about, but when the waitress eventually returns with their order, balancing a tray on her hand, he witnesses again how her kind face turns sour, even more so when the young woman gets a little too close to him when putting down his coffee cup.

The waitress seems to take the amused glint in his eyes personal and giggles annoyingly, even brushes her fingers against his hand when she puts down the other items he ordered, always avoiding acknowledging his table partner. He thanks her, watching his girl out of the corner of his eye when he smiles at the other, then looks after her a moment longer than necessary. Turning his head back to the girl, she can't hide her flushed face fast enough.

She's jealous.

And now that he thinks about it, it's not the first time she's acted a little strange. He thinks back to the diner waitress named Nancy, who he's just treated like he had because he's been in a good mood, not even thinking about it much. For his innocent girl to be this possessive surprises him, it flatters him, and he can clearly think of many situations where he can use this trait to his advantage, but he still has to keep an eye on that. He can't have her throwing daggers with her eyes at every single female he gets in contact with.

They eat and drink in silence, and he watches her closely, determined to let her stew in her new-found emotion for a bit by not touching or talking to her, and when they're done, he waves for the waitress who comes bouncing back happily, giggling, twirling her hair, very obviously flirting with him – and to prove a point, he flirts back, smiles at her, even touches her arm when he hands her his credit card, watching the young woman blush deeply.

As he waits for her to return to finish the transaction, he throws a cautious glance towards the girl on the chair opposite him, and she's fuming, hiding it, but he can see the red spots on her cheeks, her glistening eyes, the way her shoulders are tense, and how she presses her knees together under the table. She doesn't even look at him, just stares into the direction the waitress has vanished to.

Leaning back in his chair, pulling one leg over the other, he gets out his phone, swipes through new messages, reads some emails, but then opens the vibrator app. Without tilting his chin up, he watches her when he slides his thumb over the dial, turning on the toys within her, slowly increasing their speed. An audible gasp escapes her that she quickly muffles with her hand, squirming on the chair, chin pressed into her palm as she leans on her elbow and now finally looks at him, eyes still full of betrayal, now more than ever.

He gives her a wink, she gives him a stare, and he'll make sure to remind her of her place later. The waitress returns, and he lowers his phone, hiding the screen, accepting his card back with another smile that makes the young woman giggle before she wishes him a lovely day, and he returns the verbiage, almost making himself sick with how sweet he sounds.

As soon as she is gone, he stands up and walks around the table, grabbing the girl's elbow a little too roughly. She looks up at him in surprise, but quickly stumbles after him as he pulls her into a smaller side hallway. Turning another corner, he notices the maintenance door and a camera above it, but he doesn't care, turns his back to it and tilts his head as he lets go of the girl's hand and points to the floor.

She falls to her knees almost instantly, although a wince escapes her and she struggles to find a comfortable position, but there's no hesitation when she watches him unbuckle his belt and than eagerly closes her hands around his cock once he's pulled it out. She doesn't even look around, only focuses on him, and he inhales deeply when she starts pressing her lips to his shaft and licks along his heated skin as if it's the only thing she wants to do right now.

Jealousy works for her...

He's never seen her this enthusiastic when sucking him off, and he watches her with growing admiration. She's quick to lather his length in her saliva, then closes her lips around his tip and sucks hard, tongue poking and flicking and lapping expertly, before she presses it against the underside of his cock and takes him deeper, hands braced on his thighs.

“Don't make a mess this time,” he tells her quietly, and she looks up at him from under her lashes, humming around his girth.

And indeed she tries, keeps most of her spit in her mouth, allows herself to swallow around him, pulls back more often to take deep breaths and lick around her lips before focusing back on his erection. Her hands move up to squeeze his base and his balls in a hypnotizing rhythm, and he catches himself groaning quietly at the sensations, hands clenching at his sides, neck rolling as he feels the tension building inside his stomach.

He refrains from gripping her hair and pulling her against him, he wants her to feel the rift between them, the possibility that he may not touch her but expects her to service him nonetheless. It's almost cruel. She's been so good, but seeing her reacting so strongly to him flirting with other women does things to him. It's empowering.

And she seems to feel it, looks up at him while taking his cock as deep as she allows herself without gagging, he feels the teasing grip of her throat, but she never pushes him deeper, focuses more on fondling the part of his length that doesn't fit into her mouth. It's a nice change, and he lets her, watches her with a forcibly neutral expression. She gives her all, licks and laps, nibbles and sucks, squeezes and massages, always holding his gaze even when tears well up in her eyes.

She's in the middle of bobbing her head when he feels the telltale twitch of his balls, and for this last moment, he allows himself to grab her head and pushes her all the way against him, ignoring the gurgles and muffled noises of protest as he comes down her throat, pumping spurt after spurt into her while holding her tightly, and she digs her fingers into his jeans, body shuddering as he robs her of oxygen.

Eventually he lets her lean back, his hand still in her hair, keeping her close, but allowing her to take deep, rasping breaths as she calms down slowly, and without him having to say anything, she continues her ministrations and cleans his length from any excess cum. Once he deems her done, he pries her hands off him and tucks his softening cock back into his underwear, then buttons up his jeans and closes his belt again, his eyes on the girl kneeling in front of him.

She's wiping at her mouth, but doesn't dare to move much. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he leans down and grabs her chin, tilting her head up, waiting. It takes her a moment, but then she mutters a soft little “Thank you”, and he nods, pulling her up into a standing position, his hand finding her warm cheek, his thumb pressing onto her bottom lip. She parts her lips obediently, and he lets her suck on his thumb for a moment, watching her eyes glazing over slightly.

Smoothing her hair with his other hand, he inhales deeply, just standing with her on the empty hallway, the surveillance camera in his back, both of them calming down eventually, even though she is still shivering, the toys buzzing away inside her. When she feels relaxed enough to grind her hips into his leg, he fists her hair and pulls her away from his thumb, and she whines quietly, but quickly gathers herself once more, mumbling a quick “Sorry”. He lets it slide for now, easing his grip before letting go completely.

Looking her over to make sure she's presentable (noticing the redness of her knees and the slight shine to her thighs but ultimately deems it acceptable), he then grabs her hand, takes a step and waits for her to catch up, before they stroll back to the main area of the mall. She looks up at him occasionally, waiting for the praise that never came, and he wants to pamper her so badly for being such a good girl for him, but she has to learn, remember that she's still being punished for disobedience, ungratefulness, and, newly added to the list, unreasonable jealousy.

She really has nothing to worry about in that department. He's found the perfect girl, his submissive little angel, he doesn't need another one, and he's never been so sure about anything before, not after such a short amount of time. It's risky, it's very unlike him to commit to something so fast, and it may not end well. But he doesn't care, for the moment he is (literally) satisfied, holding her hand, feeling her soft skin, those little twitches, the way her legs tremble, and how the sweet scent of her arousal tickles his nostrils...

He just came down her throat – and he can already feel his cock thickening all over again. That's the power this girl has over him. It's addictive. Why would he even look at another woman, unless he wanted to test her limits a little. Oh, he already knows he'll test them again, and again, if it results in her becoming even more submissive to him, grateful for his attention, happy that he chose her after all.

It's cruel and manipulative, but also too much fun to pass up. He'll make her jealous, fuel that possessive spark until it's spreading like wildfire. And when the world is burning around them, he'll hold her in his arms and tell her what a good girl she is. The only one for him.

EIGHTEEN 🟥 NINETEEN 🟥 TWENTY

End notes: We're continuing our descent into the dark world of jealousy. Buckle up, it'll get very bumpy in the next chapter which is also the finale of Season Two!

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Sunday!

TAG LIST: @untamedheart81 @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

[trashywormeateroffics]

waited my whole life (steve rogers x reader)

the gif is not mine!

no summary it’s just a little thing, fluffy and reader struggling to be open with their emotions yay:)

a/n: well, long time no see….. i hope u enjoy!

masterlist

\\\\

“they really appreciate you, you know?” he says, still facing forward. he’s being going at this for months. trying to convince you that the team sees you as part of their family. the woods seem endless, stretched out by your tiredness from the mission and aching limbs still wrapped in a tact suit, and yet, though you cannot admit it to yourself, a whisper of a wish echoes through your mind. a wish for it to continue, on and on, perhaps on a loop. a wish for his company.

“i do too.”

he looks at you.

“you might be worse than me at taking a compliment.” you raise your eyebrows and huff out a laugh.

“one would think you out of everyone would know how to take praise.” you purse your lips, trying to hide an amused smile. “i mean, since you get it all the time.”

“right.” he scoffs, though his eyes twinkle with beguilement.

“i mean, the great captain america. everything that is wonderful and magical about this country.”

“that’s how you think of me?”

“i said captain america, not steve rogers.” he tilts his head.

“are they not the same?” you shrug your shoulders.

“what do you think?”

“once in a while you could answer a question without deflecting. won’t kill you.”

“it might.” your smile is mischievous. he shakes his head with fake exasperation. he never seems truly upset at you, never acts like having you around is an effort (even though you are pretty certain that it is), so, maybe, you could return the favor and be earnest for once.

you roll your eyes and huff. you’re not annoyed at him. you’re not annoyed at how he makes you feel. you’re just annoyed that it’s so hard to say, to show.

“you alright?” the space between his brows creases with soft concern. you open your mouth, ready to tell him that yes, you are fine. just tired from walking. you feel the deflection making its way up your throat, tensing your vocal chords, but he tilts his head and your mouth closes shut.

“you are steve.” he frowns, confused, and probably worried that you are experiencing a case of sudden amnesia, but before he can ask and deviate you from your mission, you continue. “there would be no captain america without steve rogers, but there would be a steve rogers without captain america.”

his eyes soften, and for a split millisecond you wonder if something just crossed his mind, or if he saw something behind you, because there is no way he could be looking at you like that. but then he says your name, it comes out breathy, almost with wonder, and so warm. you’ve never heard your name said like that. like a prayer, a prize, a solution. something good.

“don’t get all soft on me now, you’re still wearing the suit.”

he laughs an incredulous laugh. the corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth. it’s blinding, it’s light, it’s him.

“i’m always soft on you.” he says after he sobers up, though he is still smiling softly. “just waiting for you to realize it, sweetheart.”

that pet name. god. you might love it even more than when he says your name. he never calls anyone else by anything other than their name, or perhaps a common nickname. but never that. that is only for you. nat says it’s because you are the sweet part of his heart. you think his entire heart is sweet. you don’t understand how you could have a place there; he seems to know that, and that is why he reminds you over and over again in a million different ways that while you might not believe yourself deserving of it, that does not change the fact that to him you are rooted there. you want to be. there is nowhere else you’d like to rest.

you want to tell him everything. that he not only has put down roots in your heart, but that he has merged with the veins and the vessels that pump blood to it. that without him there wouldn’t be an empty space in your heart, there would simply be no heart. you want to be the person who loves loudly, he deserves that, but some wounds are still too deep, too fresh, and they seem to clog your lungs. the declaration gets stuck somewhere in between there and your throat (and your brain). it makes you panic, the fear that he cannot read your mind, your eyes, that he does not and will never know what he means to you, and that, at some point, he will leave to find someone who can and will tell him all of it. reassure him.

“steve…” it’s pleading. you’re sure you look like a scared animal, wild eyes and frantic breathing. without pausing his walk, he side steps a bit, getting closer to you. in a second your hand is enwrapped in his. he squeezes one, two, three times. then he caresses it with his thumb. your steps falter a bit, but you gather yourself quickly. it would’ve been unnoticeable to anyone, but not to him. you never go unnoticed by him.

he leans a bit, his mouth close to your ear and whispers, almost as a secret, as if not even the trees around you should be privy of it. only you.

“i’ll wait. whenever you’re ready. you’re worth all of it.” you shut your eyes tightly, trying to stop the onslaught of tears that are forming too quickly, trusting he will not let you fall as your feet keep moving forward. you hear him chuckle softly, barely, almost just to himself. you look at him. he’s already looking at you. he gives you a lopsided smile that makes you feel like he knows something you don’t, that maybe no one else does, before speaking again. “waited my whole life for ya, what’s a bit more time?”

and for the first time in your life, you believe someone. you believe him.

[mirensiart]

HIIII.

so like I'm new and I'll probably be around for a while!

ANYWAYS. you don't have to do this if it's against your boundaries, but how do you think the chain would react to a period?

like hypothetically, one of them is Trans, or gets cursed into a female body, how do you think that would go for them?

(can I be 🥁anon?)

Oooh don't worry anon!

I personally headcanon some of the boys as afab, so you're good, I don't mind questions like these at all!

I've been asked about the chain + periods before, but I don't think I've gone into detail about it before so! More under the cut hehe

(these are my own interpretation btw! U can headcanon the boys as whatever u want, my vision isn't like canon for the au, I like to leave it vague so anyway can project what they want! But these are what i personally like)

I feel like it depends on the period? Like ok so I'm personally a big enjoyer of sky, twi and wars as butch/transmasc, but they all have very different periods

Sky for example, I love the idea that he's one of the lucky ones who have really short non painful periods, like maybe they hurt the first day a little bit and that's it

Wars on the other hand is full blown painful as fuck period cramps, he is MISERABLE!! nausea, headaches, included. They are short though, intense but short

Twilight is like right in the middle in the sense that they are painful, but they're not as bad as Wars', however they are long, like more than normal, so they're pretty uncomfortable especially on the road

Anyway, I feel like the others would react differently depending on who's it is

Like, no one really notices when Sky has his, like maybe they feel mild pain but they all shrug it as something else.

Wars is like, the most chaotic thing ever and I can see all of the amab links absolutely losing it like oh my god??? What IS THIS??? YOY GO THROUGH THIS EVERY MONTH???

I've mentioned it before, but I personally love the headcanon that wind & time went through the war of eras pre linked universe so they both know about Wars' chaotic periods, but they're both completely floored over how much they really hurt lmao LIKE WOW U WEREN'T LYING ABOUT THIS, ALL THIS TIME WE THOUGHT U WERE JUST DRAMATIC????

Sky is also in the surprised club despite having periods himself, cause like WDYM PERIODS HURT THIS BAD??? WTF???

Twilight's high pain tolerance + him being afab means he's not as affected during it, as like, helps calms everyone down and frets lol

When twilight's period comes around, everyone is miserable cause wdym we have to go through this AGAIN?

The periods eventually synchronize though cause that's what happens when u travel for a long time with other period havers, and shit goes down

Stay at camp or stay at the inn day(s) until they all feel better again

Anyway, thank you for the ask 🥁anon! And sorry for the extensive period talk lol

[sergeifyodorov]

I know 4 nations is still a couple of months away but if you specifically were the gm choosing the roster right now, what would your team Canada look like? (I am also curious about the other teams but don’t want to overwhelm you) I always love hearing your hockey thoughts!

ooh sarahhhh LOVE this q... also lowkey thank u for only asking about Canada b/c i have not thought about the other rosters at all. to be honest

ok lets get into it

(13 F, 7 D, 3 G)

Forwards:

Already named to the roster: Sidney Crosby, Nathan MacKinnon, Brad Marchand, Connor McDavid, Brayden Point

I'm not entirely sure if I had complete control I would pick Marchand, who is both a) pretty far past his prime (even if he is one of those guys who doesn't really age like other players do) and b), not entirely That guy, but I digress. Eight more forwards to name.

Mitch Marner: Easily the best Canadian player not on this list. Since there's no salary cap for the roster and you can go wild by just picking Everyone Good, the most important note of roster construction in my mind is special teams; on any given team you should have ~2 units each of PP and PK, so eight-ish PP forwards and four-ish PK forwards. Some guys don't really do either, so it's always an extra asset to find a guy who is good at both. Mitch Marner is good at both. (And also good at basically everything else.)

Sam Reinhart: I don't like saying it, but I will

Mark Schiefele: I also don't like saying it

Dylan Strome: Here's where it gets interesting. No, I promise this is not a purely narrative choice, although I understand why one might think that. I shrimply love me a smart playmaking centre (yes his points totals are probably inflated by the Caps' really high oish% for him, but he is firmly Very Good and, even as a 4C, should be firmly considered for the 4N.)

Travis Konecny: Legitimately one of the best penalty killers in the league, and also just an all-around threat. Also also a lot of the guys who tend to be picked for 4N are natural centres (e.g. Sidney, NateMac, CMD, Pointer, Reinhart, Schiefele, and Strome are all centres) so it's nice to not have to worry in his case about if he's going to have to move to wing or not.

Connor Bedard: Oh my god I want to see what this kid can do with offensive deployment on wing and actual good teammates

John Tavares: Departing from my usual "don't pick players who are floating into their mid-thirties if you can possibly avoid it" to say that Guys. Johnnifer is still Good. Like, still really good. Chugging along at a point a game and very, very good in the faceoff dot (58%) type of good.

Seth Jarvis: Also firmly underrated IMHO; just because he is a little guy and a bit of a dork doesn't mean we shouldn't, like, remember that He's Good. Because he is.

Reserves: Steven Stamkos (always a power-play threat), Mat Barzal (competent teammates question part 2), Claude Giroux (we all know what his deal is)

Defencemen:

Already named to the roster: Cale Makar

Oh, boy, are we not great at this whole "developing defencemen" thing. Let's see who we can put together.

Josh Morrissey: Basically Morgan Rielly but a little better, I think? Solid shooter, Of-D, etc etc.

Thomas Chabot: Severely undernoticed considering that the Sens have been shit and ass the entire time he's played there. Not his fault, though. Also there's no other Francophones on this list I feel so we should really fix that. What IS Quebec Doing?

Brandt Clarke: Okay, we can have a little "developing defencemen." As a treat.

Evan Bouchard: Why are you booing me? I'm right.

Chris Tanev: Chris Tanev

Brandon Montour: There are probably one or two better options but I like him more TO BE HONEST. Picking the forwards is like a careful examination of PK ability and faceoff percentages and primary points per minute. Picking defencemen has been entirely vibes. I'm very, very sure the L and R balance is just Not There.

Reserves: Maveric Lamoureux (queb AND developing. dual threat), Devon Toews (considering literally everyone will beg for the makar-toews pairing), Shea Theodore (I guess)

Goaltenders:

Lol and Lmao, even

Logan Thompson: The man is the Capitals' starter, helped win Vegas a Cup, and is also lowkey hot sexy and hot and sexy. Starter!

Joey Daccord: Swiss, Canadian, and American, so I'm sure we could convince him to come to the dark side. (Especially since the USA has holy-fuck level goalie depth. Jake Oettinger is a third-stringer.)

Marc-Andre Fleury: Look, this forward core is good enough that it can win us a game 7-6 if we really need it to. I just think he's fun.

[keiteiken]

“Punch me with everything you’ve got.” (From Maki)

“are you sure about that, maki-senpai? i mean...” yūji trails off. it's not that he's worried about hitting a girl or anything like that. but yūji has little perception in just how hard he can actually hit. he can't help it; he worries about his classmates and senpai. what if he hits her too hard and he has to take her to shoko?

“are you sure? everything i got? what if you break a rib? or your arm trying to block?”

@ofcrossroads / some meme from a while ago ig

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

[prince-liest]

I have to go pack and then drive several hours so no more writing for a hot minute BUT please have a snippet of this absolute disaster of a situation that Vox managed to create with his own hypnosis and a mirror in the next 666.

[apocketfullofhobbits]

'trc adaptation is bad bc they mixed timelines and cut out lots of stuff' 'trc adaptation is bad bc they sanitised adam's bitchiness' 'trc adaptation is bad bc they made the ganseys democrats' NO TRC ADAPTATION IS BAD BC IT'S SET IN 2024 and not in 2001 like god intended!!

[angeart]

Boatem Circus.... Thoughts cycling through my head about your Wonderful au. These thoughts might not make sense but. You're cool!

I think what breaks me the most (at this moment) /pos is that Scar, when he built up the circus with his own two hands, after coming from wherever he had come from, had to teach himself how to bring salvation to others. How to show others safety and warmth and show them that things would be okay. He had to teach himself first how to take care of others. And then after elegy he realizes that everything he taught himself can be like- applied to him, too, because he's not alone anymore and the others are gonna show him and teach him and save him and it's so 🥹 love. Found family. Yummy.

(Also while I'm here 👉👈, am I allowed to ask who the very first person to join Scar's circus was or is that like spoilers-?) hope you have a lovely night and day

boatem circus!! 💕

you are so very right about scar. he didn't have other people show him kindness, but he still decided to extend it to others. he had to learn, and by doing so, he wasn't even aware he's teaching the others too!

and gosh when they turn it around on him 🥺 my heart.

found family!!! i love boatem circus crew found family so so so much.

you are allowed to ask! it's not a secret or a spoiler or anything! it just genuinely wasn't something i had figured out, but your question prompted me to go bug stiff and i think we got it now :3c ...

the order in which people joined the circus*:

scar > impulse > gem > jimmy > ren > pearl > cleo & doc (separately but at around the same time) > mumbo > joel > grian > [events of elegy] > skizz > tango > ???

... so. impulse. our beloved impulse was first.

he was running away from some people and he hid at where scar was building stuff. and scar came across him, with his typical "well hello there :J"

and impulse was scared! and he could've lashed out with fire in his fear. but— he didn't. (he is a teddy bear and genuinely doesn't want to hurt anyone, ever.) (there might be a backstory buried there that makes elegy so much worse :3c just saying)

he wasn't used to people regarding him without fear. he wasn't used to being just... accepted. or to be allowed to stay anywhere. he actually fully expected that's what the rest of his life will be: endless wandering, being chased off, forever running away. and yet.

and yet.

scar offers him a place to stay. so easily. as if it didn't cost him anything.

[batsplat]

I saw the post about assen 2016 and Marc cutting the chicane and was wondering if Marc did that a lot to his competitors like the imitation of mind games. Cause I’ve always thought of Vale as the one who used the mind games more. Did Marc use mind games a lot and was just more subtle?

(assen '16)

if you're interested in reading more about marc marquez mind games, then boy do I have a post for you

anyway, I can't really think of anything that's all that similar to assen 2016 because that's such a specific situation... not every day that you have something as memorable and as easy to visibly imitate and as controversial as cutting the final chicane. of course, if we're talking about imitation, it's pretty hard to avoid mentioning how marc did infamously copy two out of valentino's three most well known career overtakes within half a year of joining the premier class, and was also pretty shameless about the whole thing. but at least there you can say it's all about the race situation marc happened to find himself in - and there will only have been so much premeditation possible with both incidents

more broadly speaking, then, targeted behaviour where he's trying to send a message to one of his competitors during non-race sessions... well, that's fairly common. he loves using non-race sessions to study and stalk and at times deliberately harass his competitors. I'll give a little more details on one specific incident here to demonstrate what I'm talking about. it's related to towing, as it so often is with marc, and I ended up only briefly mentioning it in the post linked above. for context, marc spent a fair bit of time in 2019 trying to mess with the rookie revelation fabio quartararo, sometimes during the races themselves and sometimes outside of them. nothing wrong with hazing your young challengers, right? so one of the more widely discussed incidents took place in sepang 2019 qualifying (tw crash):

big fan of how the article very strongly implies that when marc says the words "honestly speaking", he was not, in fact, honestly speaking. did a single person on this planet believe marc when he said he just happened to end up right behind fabio? who knows, maybe there's someone out there, who knows...

obviously, marc and his team weren't really trying to hide what they were doing, which makes it even funnier that marc just goes for this completely shameless 'oh it was all just a coincidence' routine. and of course, this entire episode ended on a pretty sour note for marc. even though he tried to shrug it off in the moment, this incident did come with consequences for him:

which, yeah. lot's to be said here, lots to be said. but let's return to the actual point of the post, the mind games

in the end marc did do a rather nice salvage job in the race, p11 to p2 - and fabio didn't win the race, which I'm sure was appreciated. here's a nicely in-depth description of the incident that I'm going to liberally steal excerpts from. it's a good bit of extra insight on both the episode itself and what it represented in the broader context of the dynamic between the pair of them

it's part of the established playbook when it comes to dealing with promising young talent: you try to rough them up in the races and you try to rough them up outside of them. you try to make them nervous, maybe you even try to scare them. and so the cycle continues

this is the thing, right, marc really does view all on-track sessions as time to 'work' on his rivals. he's never been focused solely on himself during these sessions - and the towing thing has never just been a matter of practicality for him. 'the race doesn't just happen on sunday' 'great riders, champions, are bullies' 'they don't just want to win, they want to rub the rest of the world's noses in it'... marc has always adopted that philosophy in his racing (and he learnt from the best). he's never been shy in his tactics of intimidation - in his efforts to undermine his rivals' confidence and make them suffer. it's all part of the game

and then, of course, there's the bit of insight we get about how marc was reportedly worried about fabio because of his talent and fearlessness... a rookie who hadn't even won a race yet. and yet marc's "been doing his best to instil fear" into fabio. unfortunately it's not always easy to spook young talent, especially when they're so very brave... it's a tricky line to toe - by marking out your rivals like that, you are also letting them implicitly know you see them as a threat. which if anything can help motivate them and make them more confident. inconvenient

anyway, l'll include some more of the description of the incident, which helps illustrate just how little effort marc was going to in attempting to hide his underhanded behaviour (and how that may have been the whole point):

inherently, right, this 'battle of nerves' is a really important element of the whole towing strategy. it's about your read of the other rider, your analysis of their character, how you think they will play the situation... how much you think they're willing to risk, how much you think they'd be motivated to just fuck you over regardless, how prepared they will be to call your bluff. and in the context of sepang 2019, with that year's title very much sealed up, marc decided that he was prepared to play this game for as long as he had to. marc had won the last five races, fabio was still searching for his first ever win... marc knew young and hungry fabio would blink before he did

which, yeah. less than ideal to engage in mind games in a way that ends up getting you injured. this whole incident does serve as a good illustration of marc's overall approach, but obviously this specific episode wasn't particularly successful or indeed wise from marc's side. all in all, it probably wasn't all that intimidating for fabio when marc crashed behind him

anyway, here's some more bits talking about how marc was perhaps not being 100% honest in his post-qualifying interview:

even though in this specific example marc did admittedly fuck it, a lot of this kind of behaviour isn't bad long-term investment because it's meant to be cumulative, where you're just consistently putting pressure on someone... as it says above, "every ounce of energy spent worrying about you is one which can't be spent on trying to go faster". so you're hoping to distract your opponents, you're hoping that this constant tension will eventually unsettle them - or that you've spent so much time studying and analysing them that you can figure out how to bother them more effectively (*coughs* 2008 *coughs again*). or maybe you just can't help yourself in messing with your opponents and sometimes it is counterproductive because you've shown them how seriously you take them as a rival. maybe sometimes it's a bit of all of those things!

on fabio's reaction:

which is a pretty friendly response, it has to be said! but anyway, of course 'if he wants to follow us we are doing a good job' is probably the most healthy and useful takeaway from the whole thing. that's the thing with bullies, isn't it, you do have to figure out a way to stand up to them. fabio might have been annoyed while marc was picking on him, but he's not picking a fight with marc after the fact. he's just making it clear that he's not been intimidated - and has bagged himself pole in the process while marc started from eleventh place. as fabio says, "it's a little bit part of the game". but it is a game, and it's one that marc has always been more than happy to play

[skunkes]

Super good luck on yr procedure adventures cheye!!! Such an awesome thing I hope to do myself someday. Best of luck !! 🐈‍⬛🕊️

Thank u!!! Im waiting on call back from the surgery scheduler neow 🧿🧿🧿

[ilumel]

— a rare moment of repose for the inquisitor.

[reinabeestudio]

Taking her home

[termagax]

re: "good girl" i think they say it once randomly as a joke and its just one of those things that gets him wayyy more than they expected it would. so now its their secret weapon and they use it very sparingly and every single time he gets super embarrassed about it but it works ill tell you what.