#It also speeds up me becoming a mean fuck in my own right

[ghostie000]

you really do have to be some level of unnecessarily fucking rude to be an active poster on this site huh

[dismalzelenka]

.

[ms-demeanor]

If you're new to me yelling about this: my neighbors feed a feral cat colony but provide no other care to the colony like neuter/spay or vaccination. They free feed the cats, which attracts skunks, and they have (at the moment) about 20 cats in the colony, which attracts coyotes.

My dog has been skunked twice, she can't be outside in our yard unsupervised for even a minute because otherwise she'll try to eat cat shit because there's cat shit everywhere in my yard because the neighbors also haven't provided litterboxes or a sandbox for their ferals (their entire yard is paved) and if she has to go outside at night I need to clear the yard for coyotes before I let her out even in the small fenced area by our bedroom.

Also there are fleas fucking *everywhere* and even though my dog is on medication to prevent fleas I need to de-flea her twice a week in the summer; this is the case for every dog owner on the street.

The street I live on has a speed limit of 25mph but I hear cats getting hit frequently, so frequently that we have a resident group of crows who hang out and wait for them to become roadkill.

I have a collection of photos on my phone that show kittens with broken legs, kittens with missing eyes, kittens with horrible ear mite infections, and I have a dedicated shovel that I use for moving cat corpses that show up on my property. The cats that die on my property die from abscessed wounds from fights with other cats, respiratory infections, renal failure, and injuries from being hit by cars.

My spouse is immune compromised, and while toxoplasmosis is not a serious risk for most people, it IS a serious risk for people who are immune compromised (as are all the other infections that cats can potentially carry), which means that it's unsafe for me to grow vegetables in my yard for us to eat and it's unsafe for him to work in the yard.

I'd love to maybe open my windows at night and keep down the electricity costs of using the AC, but I can't because the entire side of my house that faces my neighbor's yard reeks of cat shit and piss year round.

Those are my next door neighbors.

Last week I was walking my dog as a neighbor around the corner was pulling out of her garage; she paused and rolled down her window and pointed at the cats on her lawn and said "Head's up, my cats are weirdly aggressive about small dogs and they just got let out so they're full of energy right now" and I nodded and crossed the street and didn't yell at my neighbor but *the temptation was there* because A) why are you letting your aggressive animals roam and B) Why are you letting your cats shit all over the neighborhood and C) Why are you exposing your owned cats to the risks of the large and territorial feral colony that is a literal stone's throw away from your house?

Anyway, and as always, Keep Your Fucking Cats Indoors.

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[loveinhawkins]

i’ve recently become aware of this starcourt mall commercial & i’m dying at the thought of Eddie seeing it, bored out of his mind, until Steve appears on screen with that stupid sailor’s hat and the world’s most awkward, “Ahoy!”, and, oh, Eddie’s grin is evil.

“Why did you tape over Dallas?” Wayne asks that night.

“Wayne,” Eddie says solemnly, “I needed to record the best moment of my life.”

Of course, Steve finds the tape later, because the universe likes to laugh at Eddie, apparently.

Spring Break of ‘86 is a few weeks away—thanks to one distracted moment, Eddie unknowingly puts the wrong tape in the case before returning a rental to Family Video, then speeding off to band practice.

Steve doesn’t notice the mixup until a few hours later, when he routinely opens the VHS cases to check that the tapes have been rewound. When he sees the tape devoid of any movie sticker, he can’t resist watching it; his shift is dragging by.

He gets 20 minutes into Dallas before it cuts off, and the commercial plays.

His jaw drops, and he groans in embarrassment, but he’s laughing when he calls for Robin in the back room, and then they’re watching it together, cracking up. They both remember filming it, remember looking at each other and swearing to never speak of it again, but they’d never actually seen it, and well… it is pretty funny.

Steve gets an evil grin of his own when he sees that the rental account is in Eddie’s name.

When he calls, he gets Mr. Munson on the phone, and because Steve can also be a meddling little shit when the conditions are right, he makes up some story about the store having new forms, that he just needs Eddie to sign one quickly.

The next day, Eddie strolls in, and Steve looks him right in the eye.

“Ahoy, Munson,” he says, deadpan.

Eddie freezes in place. He briefly considers turning around and walking into traffic.

“Harrington,” he says stiffly.

“Hey, man,” Steve says, relentlessly chipper, “so we’re kinda down on one copy of—” He glances over to the computer. “—Life of Brian, and up one copy of, uh…” He lifts Eddie’s tape off the counter, smirks. “I guess, half of Dallas.”

Eddie stalks over. “It was… for school,” he blurts out unconvincingly. “Recording Hawkins history. Nothing personal, King Steve.”

Steve lets the venom in the nickname bounce off him. “Starcourt was pretty, uh, historic,” he says mildly, fighting another smirk.

“Whatever,” Eddie snaps, losing what little patience he has left—despite all of his performances to the contrary, the thought of people laughing at him still makes his skin crawl. “Let me get out of your massive hair, Harrington, and I’ll bring your fucking video back.”

Steve raises one hand, palm out. “Woah, chill,” he says, and as Eddie’s nostrils flare, he feels a little twinge of guilt; he didn’t actually mean for all of this to come across as mean-spirited or anything. “Sorry, man. I’m not trying to be a dick, I swear.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.” But he looks a little calmer, raises an eyebrow. Well?

“Here,” Steve says, handing over the tape, and he doesn’t react when Eddie snatches it back. “Oh, and I extended the rental on your movie.” He shrugs. “Saves you a double trip, y’know?”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, after a pause.

“No biggie.” And when Eddie makes to leave, Steve calls, “Hey, Munson?”

Eddie turns at the door, no longer quite as cagey. “What?”

Steve shrugs again. “Thanks for the mixup, I guess?”

“You’re kidding,” Eddie says flatly.

“No, I mean it, dude. Like, once I got over the, well, embarrassment of, um, everything, it was actually kinda… nice to see it.” He nods to Robin in one of the aisles, guiding a customer over to a movie. “Me and Robin, we—it was nice to have something about Starcourt that we could laugh at.”

Eddie considers him. “Were you in the fire?”

Steve smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say there’s more than straightforward sadness on his face. “Yeah, got caught up in it.”

Eddie slowly, thoughtfully, opens the door but doesn’t leave, leans against it. He looks Steve up and down. “Damn shame you don’t have a hat in your get-up here, Harrington.”

Steve mock scowls, ruffles his hair. “I’m not suffering through that again.”

Eddie finds himself smiling without meaning to. “You poor thing. I guess once is enough.”

And Steve rolls his eyes this time. “Yeah, yeah, once. You’ve goddamn immortalised it, Munson.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, but I had to,” he says, tucking the tape under his arm, “for posterity. In a hundred years, there’ll be sonnets written about your sailor outfit, Steve Harrington.”

And, whoops, that wasn’t planned, Eddie thinks. Laying it on a bit thick there.

Steve laughs, but not at him; Eddie can tell now. “Go enjoy your Saturday, Munson.”

Eddie gives a lazy salute. “Ahoy.”

And as Eddie leaves, he spots a note on the counter, next to the usual Be kind, rewind reminders. It’s handwritten, with a cartoony winking face: And check what’s inside!

[hysteria-things]

TOUR (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt’s been on tour for about a month, meaning he hasn’t seen or done anything with you in a month. he takes matters into his own hands when he’s finally alone, but he does need your help with it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, mentions underage drinking, swearing, male masturbation, overstimulation (kinda)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 830

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: umm guys i literally woke up to over a hundred notifications??? thank you SO much i didn’t expect this to happen at all. i’m having so much fun with this🥲

my notes app is COOKING right now and the ideas are ideaing. you guys and your support makes me low key emotional LMAO

i want to try and post once a day but i might do more than once sometimes instead because i am HYPE.

also conflicted if i should make a part two so let me know!

it’s friday night and you’re sitting in your best friend’s living room. the two of you and other close friends come together some weekends to hang out. you guys have been laughing, drinking (despite being underage by a year), watching TV, or playing games. in the middle of laughing, you feel your phone buzz repeatedly underneath your thigh. you lift your leg to retrieve it, seeing an incoming phone call from your boyfriend matt.

“hey, sorry. mind if i take this?” you ask the group, lifting your phone so they can see the screen.

“not at all.” your best friend smiles.

you get up from the couch. “thanks. continue the game without me.”

you speed walk to the bathroom and close the door accepting the call and bringing it to your ear. “hello?”

“hey.” he breathes out.

“hey, you.” you smile. “how are you doing?”

“fine,” he says. he’s silent for a beat before speaking again. “sorry i didn’t talk to you much today. it’s been busy, but we just finished the tampa show.”

you haven’t seen matt in over a month because he’s been touring with his brothers across the country. you couldn’t be more proud, but you guys miss each other like crazy.

“did you win?”

“damn right i did, baby,” he says hoarsely. he sounds a bit strange to you, but you shrug it off as exhaustion. doing shows almost every day can wear somebody out.

but oh boy are you wrong.

on the other line, matt sits on his bed in the tour bus with his hand wrapped around his dick. your recent post on instagram is displayed on his screen as you talk about your day on the other end, having no clue what’s happening.

the post consists of you posing, wearing a short navy blue dress. your tits practically spilled out of the top.

“…was crazy.” you finish. “anyway, is tour fun so far? it’s almost over already.”

“uh huh.” he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back. he hisses, his movements gradually becoming faster. he’s sensitive, and it hurts so fucking bad. he needs to release, but only you have the power to make him come undone.

“matt? you okay? you sound off.” you ask concerned.

“keep talking, baby. i’m so close.”

you go to say something, but instead, press your ear closer to the phone. you hear shuffling and grunting. it doesn’t take a mastermind to figure out what he’s doing.

“you’re being risky, matthew.” you say teasingly, a whine escaping his lips. he prefers being called matt, but with you, matthew rolls perfectly off of your tongue. “where’s everybody else, hm?”

“at the store,” he says shakily, his hand pumping faster. he takes his thumb and twirls it around his red tip where pre-cum is threatening to spew out. “i need to cum so bad.”

“then do it, baby. pretend it’s me making you feel so good,” you say seductively, biting your lip as you hear his sounds of pleasure.

you get that familiar feeling in your core, but because you’re at a friend's, you’ll feel weird doing it in her bathroom.

guess you’ll have to wait until you’re all alone.

“fuck.” he whispers, stomach jerking. he thrusts up into his fist a few times to finish the job. he whines as he makes a mess all over his stomach and thighs.

he whines again, purposely trying to overstimulate himself. “matt, don’t overdo it. you’re too sensitive.” you say, knowing he didn’t stop because you can still hear the commotion.

“please.” he exhales. “one more.”

“hold on,” you reply, opening the camera app on the phone. you pull the straps down of your dress and pull out your boobs, pushing them together and snapping a picture. you know how much matt goes crazy over them. you send the photo, waiting for his reaction.

you bring the phone back up to your ear to hear a sigh of “holy fuck” fall from his mouth.

“i need to fuck your tits so bad.” he groans, throwing his head back as he tries to reach his second orgasm.

you bite your lip to hide your smile, enjoying this a little too much. the wet noises on the other line drive you insane.

“i’m gonna— fuck, i’m cumming.” he lets out a loud moan as he makes another mess, his dick red and swollen. he’s still not satisfied, because you’re not there. he continues pumping his cramped hand, but you and he both know it’s no use.

“matt, that’s enough.” you say sternly. “don’t do it too much, okay? it’ll hurt.”

he obliges, removing his hand and lying there. his breathing starts to slow, but he’s still panting. “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too.” you coo. “just a few more days, okay?”

“okay,” he mumbles.

you lied.

what matt doesn’t know is that you have a plane ticket for tomorrow, to fly out to ft. lauderdale for the last show.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing

[sluttyminghao]

Seventeen x Phone Sex

95 line - 96 line - 97 line - 98+99 line

♡ word count: 1.1k ♡ genre: smut - 18+ only ♡ a/n: here is the 96 line version! i hope you guys enjoy! shoutout to @bf-wonu and my friends at @svthub again for helping with this!

Junhui: This man would be insanely giggly every single time you suggest phone sex or have any conversation that leads up to it. He’s going to not be anywhere close to dominant, and may, in fact, become a little more submissive just because he doesn't know what way the conversation will end up going. Jun is going to be very whiny and tell you what to do, but he’s going to be edging himself for god knows how long because he’s addicted to your voice. Every single time you moan or whine out when your fingers touch your sensitive body, it sends a lightning bolt of want and need through his body and only makes him speed up his own hand movements. “You sound so pretty like this, wish it was me that was getting those noises out of you instead though.” I think he’s also the type to have like…a pillow he uses to fuck himself into or a fleshlight of some kind because he just needs to have his cock enveloped in something and hear your voice whilst simultaneously fucking into a fleshlight or a pillow? It would immediately send him over the edge. When he’s feeling dominant, however, i think he would definitely take action in telling you what to do, but would never tease you because he’s holding on for dear life with his own orgasm. He knows what you want and when you need it, so would get you to the edge super quickly.

Soonyoung: He’s definitely very impulsive when it comes to phone sex. You could be at home doing some work and all of a sudden he’s texting you like crazy and calling you a hundred times, and when you finally answer he’s heavily breathing and fucking himself up into his hand. Even though you can’t see him, you know exactly what’s happening and ask him what he’s been thinking about, only for him to retort back with some of the filthiest images either of you could think of. “Was thinking about how I tied you up the other day and your body looked so perfect and ready for me…and then also was thinking about that one time i made you cum so much you passed out” He would definitely also be the type to do video calls as well, and as soon as you pick up you know you’re in trouble when you see how he’s angled his phone just perfectly so that you can see every inch of him, and it gets you going immediately. Soonyoung is very “no thoughts just need to cum” and would be spouting orders for you left and right while he jacks himself off like he’s insane. He’d be telling you to strip for him, get your tits out and play with yourself until you’re both cumming, but he makes you wait until he’s about to cum so you can cum together. Immediately afterwards, he would send you photo proof of how much he came just so you know what you’re in for when he gets home.

Wonwoo: If there’s one thing everyone can agree on with Wonwoo, it’s that his deep voice would instantly have you cumming. He is definitely on the more dominant side when it comes to phone sex, he loves being able to guide you through with a stern voice, letting your whimpers and moans hit his ear in just the right way that his cock twitches. When he’s in the mood, you can tell because his voice drops at least an octave and grows raspy, which only lights the lust fire in your belly and drives you crazy. He would spill the filthiest phrases, telling you how bad he wants you and every single position he wants you in, as well as how much he wants to fill you up with his cum. He’s also definitely the type to play mind games with you, tell you that you can cum and then say things like “oh did I say you could cum? I didn't mean to, oops, now i guess you’ll have to make it up to me” or “if you didn’t cover your fingers then you didn’t fuck yourself hard enough”, and also loves using those toys you can connect to over wifi where he can control the vibrations and movements of said toy. He would make you cum so much with the toys that you grow so sensitive and he only draws it out even further for you, making you so sensitive to the slightest touches and vibrations have you moaning and clenching. His raspy voice wouldn't help either, especially so when he tells you he wishes your hand or mouth was wrapped around his cock rather than his own hand and he’d cum a lot, it’s splayed all over his thighs and abdomen and then also is wishing that you would be the one to clean it up for him. You’re just his good little whore, after all.

Jihoon: With Jihoon, it’s very common to have sex over the phone given his constant desire to want to be in the studio. He would probably have a schedule where he calls you like once or twice a week later at night, probably when he’s at his most frustrated when he’s producing or writing, and just lets his frustrations flow in the form of mutual masturbation. He wouldn’t be overly dominant or submissive, but rather just goes with how he’s feeling and how frustrated he is. If he’s been struggling for a while, he would probably go a little more dominant, and if he’s doing alright, he’d be pretty neutral. With how often you guys have sex over the phone, he would pretty much know exactly what to do and when, really has it down to a pinpoint on how well he knows you, down to your breathing patterns when you’re getting close to your orgasm. He would also be pretty easy to come undone as well, given that you can push his buttons hard enough. If he’s frustrated, you want to get him off in as little time as possible so that he can focus again. If he’s chill, then you can drag it out and edge him for a while until he finally snaps and switches to dominance. I think he’s not one to talk dirty often, and would only use it on the odd occasion where he’s feeling more dominant than normal. He’d be very careful with his wording but manages to speak fluently in dirty talk when he’s in the mood, calling you his good little slut and whore and getting you over the edge and getting you moaning which in turn, gets him to cum all over his thighs.

[thehauntedetheral]

Request-

Um, I don't know if you make requests, I'm sorry if you don't. But I've always been curious about, how would Yandere bafam react to a supernatural darling? Like, a demon.

You don't need to respond or anything, thank you for your attention.

Yandere Bruce x Maneater Demon Reader

Requests are open!

You and Bruce recently got married. It wasn't for love. It was an arranged marriage Bruce parents set before they died and as to respect them he decided to follow their decision.

Bruce and you were only married on papers and infront of public eye. You two were distant. Living in different rooms, rarely seeing each other which means seeing each other only while passing the corridors.

You came from a wealthy and educated family just like Bruce. You observed how he wasn't home at night and mostly out till morning.

You would ask alfred about it but got nothing. You were a curious cat and one day tried to follow Bruce but got lost in some shady dark place at middle of night due to his fast speed.

You were trying to find where you were and get back to home when you saw a drunk young men coming towards you.

"Well well what do we have here?" The drunk man said with a sick smile while laughing. There was no one around you other than this men. You were all alone in a shady place having no idea where the hell in Gotham City are you as you were from another city.

If this would have happened to you a few years ago you would have been shit scared praying to God for help but not now. Infact you were feeling sorry for the poor bastard.

"I suggest you to leave me alone for your own safety" you said in a calm voice. While he laughed like crazy at you. "For my safety? Are you insane bitch? Whatever I like insane women they are kinky" he said rubbing his hands together and coming towards you. That's it. This sick asshole deserve it. You thought.

When the man stands right infront of you. You tilt your head making your eyes starting turn red, making the man scared and screaming "What the fuck?"

"What happened? You liked insane women, right?" You said smiling sinister while your face and body started transforming into your demon form. You attacked the man and started tearing, rupturing him and eating him like the maneater you are while his blood drip down your neck and his screams feeling like a soft melody to your ears bringing you immense pleasure.

After devouring him up you look up and saw Batman standing infront of you a few metres apart looking at you with an intense look. You knew it was your husband Bruce. It was like you can identify Bruce in any costume. Might be one of your demonic advantages.

You turned back to your human form blood all spread over your mouth dripping down your neck while Batman/bruce looking at you with a shock confused look.

"Don't worry I won't eat you"you said wipping your lips with your hand then licking the blood on your fingers.

"I know" you heard his deep voice.

"And yeah he was a asshole. I only eat bad people and the one who annoy me" you said standing up blood covering your clothes.

"How?" You heard his deep voice.

"How I become this? Well long story hubby will tell you some day"you said going towards him. "He wasn't tasty" you said pouting generously hurt that he wasn't delicious.

You were a demon but why does Bruce feels like you are a goddess not demon. He should be scared but it only made him more fascinated by you. Well after all he was also a freak only of a different kind.

Want part 2? Let me know through comments.

Requests are open!

A little Drabble About them :

For more yandere reading:

[apothe-roses]

12 Days of Smuff

Day 7: Sharing a Drink & Toys

Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 631

Warnings: Dub con (Aegon does not get explicit consent before initiating), degrading, overstim, use of a vibrator

Prompt created by @madmax8603. Dividers by @cafekitsune and @mykento

Disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the right to the character of Aegon II Targaryen.

It was supposed to be a quiet night. Just you, a bottle of wine, and some shitty Christmas romcom. Things take an abrupt turn when Aegon storms into your apartment, startling you. He clumsily toes off his shoes, stalks over to the couch, and flops down next to you.

“Another successful family dinner I take it?” you ask.

Aegon snorts. “Father mistook me for Helaena. Twice.” He snatches your wine glass, taking a long sip.

You snatch your glass back. “Get your own,” you tease.

“I mean, I know we’re all blonde, but Helaena wears her hair longer than mine!” he continues. “Also, the glasses are all the way in the kitchen.” The last part comes out as a whine. You roll your eyes.

Aegon sags into the cushions. “Which one is this?” He asks, nodding to the movie playing.

“Does it matter? They’re all basically the same,” you answer, refilling your glass.

“True,” he laughs.

You two fall into a comfortable silence, taking turns sipping wine. You feel Aegon’s eyes on you.

“I’m not fucking you again,” you say without looking at him.

“I wasn’t gonna ask you to fuck me!” He retorted.

“Please, I know that look,” you scoff.

“When was the last time you fucked anyone anyways?” he wondered.

“That’s none of your business,” you reply. “Besides, my vibe does the job perfectly fine.”

“Just fine?” Aegon raises a brow.

“It gets me off! At least I’m guaranteed to finish,” you grumble into your wine glass. Aegon stares at you for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. Then, he gets up and leaves without another word. You watch him go, then turn back to the movie. You hear him shuffling around in your room, but he walks back in before you can get up and confront him about it. He’s holding your vibrator in his fist.

“How do you know-,” you start.

“Top drawer nightstand. Not exactly original,” Aegon interrupts, retaking his seat on the couch.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“You said you prefer your little toy, so I’m giving you what you want.”

Before you can protest, Aegon turns on the vibrator and presses it against you over your clothes. Your rebuttal turns into a moan as he rubs circles into your clit.

“This what you want?” he growls, turning the speed up. You let your legs fall open, head lolling back.

“No? Maybe is should stop then,” he threatens.

“Wait, don’t!” you whine, grabbing his wrist. He gives you a wry smile.

“That’s more like it.”

He removes the vibrator long enough to roughly drag your bottoms down your legs. His grin widens when he sees the wet spot on your panties.

“You know, I think you may be right. I mean look at how easy it was to get you all nice and wet. Fucking slut,” he spits. That only serves to turn you on more. He presses the head of your toy hard against your clit, Turing it up to the highest speed.

“Come on, come for me like the desperate little white you are,” he rumbles, moving the toy in circles.

Your peak washes over you all to quickly. Your back arches off the sofa and your eyes roll back, a loud moan escaping your lips.

Aegon helps you ride through your orgasm. You think he’s going to stop when you start to twitch from overstimulation, but he intensities his ministrations instead. Your moans become more high pitched, and a tear escapes your eye.

“Aeg. Too much,” you shakily force out.

“Aw, but you’re so cute like this,” he coos. “Such a pretty little crier.” You love it and hate it at the same time.

“H-how many m-more?” you stammer.

“Oh, until the battery dies,” he hums, with a devilish smirk.

[ryuluvr]

ryujin itzy headcanons (nsfw/nsft) (wlw)

warnings: dom ryu, sub reader, mommy kink, fingering, riding, public sex, orgasm denial, slight humiliation, slight overstimulation, cursing, praise.

feel free to send me asks with thoughts and suggestions!

• she’s huge on ‘any time, any place’. you can always tell when she wants you because she always has a certain dark look in her eyes and its enough to make you physically weak at the knees. sofa, bed, bathroom, kitchen, she literally makes it her goal to switch it up every time to keep it interesting.

• she’s also into public sex. it started off pretty tame like fucking you in shop fitting rooms or in public bathrooms, covering your mouth to keep you quiet so you guys wouldnt get caught. but it quickly escalated, for example getting you to ride her thigh in a corner booth in a club, leaving wet sloppy kisses all over your neck making you whine as you grind against her. thank god the music drowns you out.

• she loves to talk you through it, praising you during your climax. “that’s it baby, let it out. you’re doing so well for me.” GODDDDD

• she also calls herself mommy in third person and lets out a breathy moan every time you call her that title yourself. “mommy’s got you baby.. did i tell you to stop?” it makes you die every time without fail omfg.

• she works you up in the most torturous ways imaginable, putting her hands all over your body as slow and as light as possible, smirking at you because she loves to watch you become desperate. she kisses and softly sucks at the skin on your neck as she gropes your breasts, her thumbs soon running across your nipples from over your clothes, just enough for you to feel it and writhe under her because “it isnt enough, mommy.”

• she ALWAYS asks you if you feel good, sometimes moving her hands away from your core with a smug look on her face straight after, simply to be a little mean. “mommy’s getting tired baby, can you fuck yourself on my fingers?” of course she isn’t tired, she’s only going to suddenly pump into you when you least expect it.. she just wants to watch you put on a show for her first like the obedient girl you are.

• she loves missionary over any other position because she adores watching you fall apart below her, gripping onto the sheets underneath or trying to cover your face with your arms or hands. she finds it adorable when you’re embarrassed and vulnerable.

• “what do you want, baby? where do you want to be touched? use your words, my pretty girl.” UGHHH

• she’s extremely cocky at times. if your phone rings she’ll continue pleasuring you and order you to take the call, but doesnt get mad if you end it suddenly due to it being too much for you. it only turns her on more that shes the one making you feel this good. she knows you wont even have the energy to call them back once she’s done with you anyways. LORDDD

• her speed increases every time you come, often pumping into you with two fingers as she sucks on your clit. she wont stop even after you finish just to watch you whine and shake because you’re overstimulated, and truthfully, it hurts. she’s not mean enough to continue though, its just for a few seconds.

• if you come on her fingers she’ll take them out and get you to taste yourself. “how does my baby girl taste? mm good, right?” feeling you suck on her fingers only makes her groan. she could easily climax just from watching you. most of the time she’ll kiss you straight after just to taste you once more on your own lips.

• she doesn’t want it all the time as shes more of a giver, but on occasion she’ll ask you to touch her too. “just like that. fuck, baby..” she talks you through it, encouraging you the entire time and guiding your hands where she secretly desperately needs them to get off. her moans are breathy and low, often throwing her head back and bucking up her hips, especially if you’re eating her out which is her favourite thing ever omfg.

• she constantly curses under her breath as if she cant handle the way you make her feel, as if every time is her first. she grips onto your hair and tugs it slightly without realising but you don’t mind. you wouldn’t dare keep her waiting so you make her come as fast and as intensely as you can, she loves that shit.

• she LOVES eye contact, especially when she forces you to maintain it. she will grip your hair or your chin to make sure your eyes cant leave hers. “good girl, look at me. eyes on mommy.”

lorddd i cant cope

[random-conspiracy]

Ok, I'm entering my villain (& heroes!) arch aajshashasa. This stupid fixation of superpowers and fiction comic stories.

WELL, HOT TAKE OF THE DAY:

The majority of superpowers in fiction and oc's are boring because they're straightforward. Picture it, there's aaaaaaaaaaaaaaalways someone with the power of:

Mimic someone's power

Invisivility

Steel skin

Puppeteer or any variation of body and mind manipulation (because *wink wink* we're all edgys and saw creepypastas a lot hashas)

Perhaps fly

Ultra speed

And shit like that ajshashasa. Don't get me wrong, those are amazing superpowers. Even just one person in a normal-esque world is a fucking anomaly and represents a game changer.

HOWEVER it's quite boring and honestly quite lazy. Because oh yes! The evil twisted villain of the wee has the power of... mind control. OH BOY! I fucking wonder what is gonna happen! (sacarsm). Or shadow control powers or super force and you know the rest. WHAT a twist! (/s).

And the same goes for the heroes that GOD forbid they're not teenagers or young adults in well shaped bodies BECAUSE UUUUUUFFFFFFFFFF. Call me crazy but if you can fly I doubt you're using at all your muscles the same way a common person does ahshasa. But why fucking not, we can never have enough twinks and women in spandex, can we? ahshahsa.

There's no twist and creative work in a superheroe or a villain or whatever that has JUST that exact power that conveniently works.

I'm a slut for the characters with random and incoherent powers!

That's where this shit goes hard. Beacuse it's so easy to be a superhero whn you can walk through walls or move at high speed. But what happens when you have the power to deconstruct objetcs? Fly just 50 cm off the groud? Exact knowledge of the pupulation in Taiwan (while you live in Argentina)?

What happens to them??? I wanna see the shenanigans, the creative solutions to abnormal problems! And what happens to the powers that become a burden or that straight up are incompatible with the common society. What happens if you're born without bones? If TV signals sometimes cross without way to evade it into your mind?

I wanna see creative villains. With powers like super healing and bubblegum madness. Concidental induction and urbomancy. Hhahshahsas

The thing is not actually that the pwoers are common or simple, the thing is for me that the weaponization in battle is the number one thought. Like, yeah, I bet turning sound waves into lethal blades is powerful but out of battle, does it matter? It means somethig? Can you cut a frozen pizza for dinner or you destroy your whole kitchen?

(Tbf, a story a bout a character struggling to see beyond his powers shapped to battle could be interesting BUT that's another story ahsahsas).

And I'm also bored of the god-like powers. You can fly and you can control minds! For free I guess and with no real consequences. Bceause let's be serious, Spidermand and Superman as archetypes of the hero had their own limitation (not precisely linked to their powers by themselves BUT WHATEVER). They're more or less the exception to this.

I Wanna See Limits

LIMITS. I care 0 if the character can eat the fucking Sun. What I want to see is that power in personal impact and relativity. Sometimes the right (or wrong!) word has more power that destroying the Earth. And a lot of it comes from the limitations. How easy is everything when you have all the power, but the limitations are what shape the plausibility, the humanity and the imagination around it. For example Magneto. It's because of his clear limitations that he scaping from the plastic underground prison in the movies is so fantastic. He uses a creative solution to work around his limits. Amazing!

Idk man, Brandon Sanderson said this shit already. Go see him go see him.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

congrats on finishing finals! i’ve just finished so finally enjoying my free time before i start my summer job. I’ve got a request (if you’re willing) of probably my favourite scenario for stucky.

Basically it centres around the eagerness of whoever tops (preferably steve) and probably edging towards them being the sub with how much they want the other person. The whole scenario is just begging and whining when it finally happens. Also if it happens somewhere spontaneous like a kitchen counter that’s just a cherry on top. Sprinkle in a bit of praise kink and my life is yours.

Thank you!! Congrats on getting through your finals, too. And this took me a while to get to, so I hope that your free time before your summer job was nice and relaxing 😘

I'm so down for this prompt! Here you go:

Steve doesn't sleep in.

Steve doesn't sleep in and on a related note Bucky could be convinced that it's because the real underlying purpose of the seurm was to make fucking sure that Steve would become an even bigger pain in Bucky's ass that he could be before when he was a 5'4" asthmatic-ass punk. The serum makes sure that Steve can run faster head first into danger, putting Bucky's heart attack on speed dial, the serum makes sure that he can take bigger bullies and come out with bruises and a broken, bloody nose that heals faster, meaning Bucky has to get angrier at the people who take advantage of his speedy healing, the serum makes sure sure he has enough energy to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet all day every day and still wake up at the ass crack of dawn to roll out of bed, jostling Bucky awake as he leaves for his run, murmuring something Bucky can't process in his ear and leaving a sloppy, morning-breath kiss on his cheek. So. Steve doesn't sleep in. Almost ever. Thank you, super soldier serum.

That being said, it's a fucking miracle that Bucky woke up this morning by himself, no too-early interruption of Steve leaving to run or coming home from his marathon-length sprint to make noise like a bull in a chinanshop as he gets ready for his day. Showering. Getting dressing. Rustling around in the nightstand and the closet and--

Thank you, most recent top-secret mission, for exhausting my stupid boyfriend enough that he crashed for over 10 hours without leaving him seriously injured, just sleep deprived, Bucky muses to himself. He's in such a pleasant mood surprisingly early that's he's humming to himself as he makes eggs over the stove top, still in his loose gym shorts and stretched-out, comfy t-shirt. With two super soldiers sharing a single bed, it's too hot to sleep in clothes, but Bucky does have standards. He has unfashionable lounge wear. Of course. He's human.

Bucky smiles at his ridiculous amount of eggs--nearly a whole carton and a half dumped and scrambled just to keep his metabolism (and Steve's by extension) happy. He's not a morning person. He never has been. Normally, he's grumpy right about now. But, today is a good day, Steve is catching zzzs, safe and sound at home, and Bucky woke up on his own volition, and he gets to surprise his boyfriend with cheesy, spicy eggs. It's disgustingly domestic for two aged soldiers who have been war-torn and tortured. Or, it would be domestic if--

"Heyy," Steve's sleep rough voice is suspiciously deep and slow, announcing his sudden presence over Bucky's shoulder before the sound of his feet on the hardwood.

--Steve would let him actually have a moment of innocent peace.

Bucky will protect his peace, though--just like he does when Steve is stomping his feet in their bedroom, early morning, post-run, throwing a pillow at his sweaty boyfriend. Self-defense. Anyone in court would side with him, he's sure.

"I know what tone, Mister," Bucky tells Steve, not bothering to turn around just yet. He has priorities. Food. "Don't even think about it, I'm making your breakfast too, you know."

"I haven't done anything! I barely said anything!" Steve wheedles in response, padding farther into the kitchen and slouching against him heavily. He radiates heat like a furnace through Bucky's thin clothes. Steve, however, is still fully nude.

"Not yet," Bucky points out. Literally. Turning around to point his egg-y fork at his stupid, big, bare chest. Steve is, just, acres of pale skin and faint freckles smooth over shapely muscles, and... Bucky can't quite blame the way his mouth waters on his empty stomach.

One of Steve's stacked pecs twitches at the end of his fork, pointed at and ostensibly offended. Simiarly, Steve's hands come up as do one of his eyebrows, impressively defensive for a guilty man, "tough guy this morning, huh?"

"Tough?" Bucky challenges, poking the fork into his right pec. To be fair, they're the only ones eating these eggs, so it's not unsanitary, and Steve looks ripe. Juicy, even. He could be eaten, though Bucky would prefer to eat him without cutlery; he wants to tear into him with his teeth. "'S that what you call it, making sure we don't starve to death?"

Steve cocks his head to the side, barely hiding the blantant need in his wide eyes with a sparkling smirk.

Matching his silence, his game, Bucky dares to turn back around, thinking he's dismissed the tank of muscle and nuclear-level sex drive that is Steve, but he pays for his mistake when Steve plasters himself to his back. Again. Harder this time. Tighter to him with the heat of his big chest all-ecompassing, the flat plains of defined, solid abs making Bucky want bad things, and the impressive, insistent pressure of his uncovered erection achingly noticable.

Pushing the words out of his mouth, sharper than he feels, Bucky teases, "I can't believe you're not dizzy with that thing in your pants taking up so much of your blood."

Steve tries to snort, but he doesn't exactly make it. The sound lands somewhere closer to an exhaled, wanting pant of air more than anything else.

"What pants?" Steve jokes, then, "you wanna check to make sure I'm not dizzy, 'cause... I'm not so sure, Buck," Steve hooks his chin around Bucky's shoulder, letting his knees weaken. If he looks, Bucky knows he'd be pouting, pretending to be faint. Big idiot.

"Mmm, I'm more willing to check to make sure it's not a gun."

Steve makes another noise that's supposed to illustrate his amusement. He misses the mark by a mile, though. Especially as his hands--baseball mitts, really--start wandering, and this hungry little groan bubbles up from his chest. He's groping him. There's no other way to say it. Groping. Big and heavy palms with strong, thick fingers, squeezing handfuls of his chest and then scratching his blunt nails down his abs, slipping up under his shirt to pet the silky trail of hair that leads down to his waistband with a breathless moan.

Bucky is making eggs with a sleep-puffy face and rumbled bed hair, and Steve is reacting as if he's a stripper working the pole, showering him with ones, getting inappropriately grabby. Life is a trip. Steve is stupid. What a huge dummy. There's something wrong with him, Bucky swears it.

"Having fun?" Bucky asks, intentionally letting his voice drag, sounding bored.

Steve doesn't pay him any mind. He just whines softly against his shoulder, using his whole face to nuzzle against his thin shirt. And Steve's insistent hands roam down, down, down, over his crotch to his thighs, squeezing hard at his thick quad muscles through his loose gym shorts.

"You're making me feel like a stress ball, Steven." He deadpans. He's still half asleep, but his body is coming more and more online by the minute or more accurately, more online by the fondle. His boyfriend really is just... grabbing him. Squeezing him. Hands digging in, nails biting, leaving fingerprint bruises in his wake.

"Am I?" Steve says, voice even lower, if possible. He doesn't give a shit about what Bucky's saying at the moment. It's undoubtedly going in one ear and out the other since he's started rutting against him. Grinding filthily, not even all that stealthy. He's completely shameless this morning. And his hips are against flush to Bucky's ass making his dick push between Bucky's cheeks, and, oh, making his underwear and shorts ride up, pressing against his hole and rubbing.

Bucky can close his eyes and imagine in perfect detail how it would feel for Steve to tear down his clothes and slide right in, splitting him open, filling him up until he chokes on it. Unable to do nothing but moan Steve's name. He's so close, positioned just right. He's, he could--

Ngh.

Bucky shakes himself, settling his resolve by taking a minimally shaky breath, trying to cool off.

Keep it cool, Barnes.

"Mmm-hmm," what the hell was he talking about? Oh, right, "I do." Bucky murmurs, voice even, "'cause, in case you forgot, I'm trying to keep you fed so you don't waste away on me, but you're crawling all over me like I'm a jungle gym. Imagine how that feels for me, hon."

"Jus'," Steve's breathing is getting faster and faster, his hips are moving faster and faster, too, sloppier, "w-wanna feel you."

"Yeah?" Bucky stirs his eggs, he already covertly turned them down, drawing this out. He doesn't want to be distracted and burn them, but he also isn't willing to let them finish just yet, nor is he willing to turn them off and leave them half cooked and ruined. Yeah, he's a tease, so what? "Can't you wait five minutes, shovel down some protein, and then feel me up like I'm some plaything?"

"No." Steve says petulantly, digging his hands into him as if that's convincing enough evidence.

"'Course not," Bucky sighs.

"Haven't seen you in five days, Buck!" Steve whines. Whines. Some big, manly soldier. Ha. If only the public knew the Steve Rogers under the proverbial mask. "I can't take it!"

Bucky tries to and does successfully snort. Take that, Steve. "Such a hardship, Rogers. The real tragedy in our lives, hm? You not getting your dick wet once during the whole work week?"

"Mmm," Steve replies, his filthy mitts all over his ass now, spreading him open to better fit his dick between his cheeks, pushing himself in closer and then going back to doing his thing. Rutting. "mmm-hmm, it is, Buck. It is. You got no idea what it's like!"

"Pfft, I'm retired, dumbass, not dead," Bucky snips back. "I do plenty of my own missing."

"Poor you," Bucky teases, trying to think about anything but the fuck-me whine that's in Steve's voice, as effective as a dog whistle at making his body obey. He's trained to his dick. God. What a time to be alive.

"Yeahh, but... ugh," any of the rest of his complaints briefly turn into a whimper. He recovers shortly to further agrue his point, typical, "at least you get alone time when I'm gone. I'm gone, and I can't get away to get off."

"It's terrible!" Steve rambles on, more complaining than anything else, "'cause when I'm here, I'm in you all the time, soaking in you, swear to fuck," Bucky can play cool all he wants on the outside, but he can't deny the arousal getting tighter and tighter deep in his gut, "and you're always so tight around my dick, squirming and moaning, and then I gotta leave and you--" Steve breaks off into a shaky moan as his grinding becomes rougher, less about the rythm and more about the desperation, "you got no idea what it's like, Buck! I have dreams about it."

It.

Dreams about it.

Bucky should be scandalized to be objectified and referred to that way, as a thing, but he isn't. This is Steve. He wants every dirty, filthy part of Steve. And Steve dreams about his hole. That arousal deep inside him? Yeah, it's not buried deeply anymore. It has him in a chokehold, forcing him to gasp for air or suffocate under the weight.

"I wake up on mission fucking my bed--" Bucky's thinking about it, oh, yeah, he is, he's thinking about the sculpted roundess of his ass and the way the muscles in his back and legs move, how he'd look from the top down, so desperate to stick his dick somewhere wet and hot and tight that his body will work with anything, even a mattress "--wanting you so bad. I stake out and get so bored, and I can't think about anything else than jerking off, wishing my hand was your ass. I can't help iiit!" He's so fucking whiny and, unfortunately, it really works for Bucky. "Everything, anything, sets me off. Just wanna get in you so bad. I miss it so much. You're so hot inside. It's, it's, God, it's like heaven, I swear."

Bucky can't even put words together for a moment. 'Cause apparently more sleep does Steve a whole fucking world of good, unlocking his mouth and letting it run. That, or, Bucky will have to re-check with Sam and make sure Steve didn't get hit in the head on mission.

"Please, Buck, please," he begs, faster, jerkier, no rhythm at all to his hips which is, admittedly, stupidly, really fucking working for Bucky. "Please," he murmurs, "turn off the stove, Buck, I need it. Need you!"

Bucky laughs despite his brain melting.

Steve takes offense, hugging Bucky tighter back against him, grinding harder as if he can somehow rip through the layers of Bucky's shorts and underwear with just his dick--if anyone could, it would be Steve.

"C'mooon, I'll be quick! I don't..." he cuts himself off seemingly without realizing, taking the time to suck a sloppy kiss into the exposed skin between Bucky's shoulder and neck where his worn sleep shirt collar is stretched beyond repair, marking him up, using his teeth, getting needy, messy, just how Bucky likes him. "I don't even gotta put the whole thing in, just the tip, I'll, I'll be good! Anything you want, I just wanna fuck you."

God.

His begging.

Lord in Heaven above, if Steve could fucking hear himself. If only that worlds-greatest-tactical mind was in the room with them right now. Christ. If Hell exists, he'll risk it for this. Damn, Bucky wants this fucking moment on vinyl so he can play it again and again and again until it wears so it skips and cracks through the speakers. He's so sweet when he wants to get his dick wet. It's like it's all he can think about and there's nothing else.

Bucky grumbles for show, but his hands are shaking as he snaps the oven knobs to point at 'off,' and his dick is laughably hard, pawed at too eagerly, clumsily by Steve's big, stupid hand. Bucky takes the opportunity to rut against Steve's warm, all-ecompassing hand once, twice, three times, before--

He struggles in his octopus grip until Steve realizes he wants to turn around, not squirm away. Once his slow-on-the-uptake boyfriend is on board, then Bucky does turn, and suddenly, chest-to-chest, he grabs Steve's unfairly square jaw. What else is he supposed to do? He pulls him into a bruising, vicious kiss. Slotting together how they always do, passionate yet well-practiced.

They kiss and kiss, until with their lips still together, mouths sliding salaciously against each other, Bucky threatens, "if you don't put the whole fucking thing in me right goddamn now, I'm gonna take my shower and stuff myself silly with a dildo instead of you. And you can listen while you make your own breakfast."

Steve's eyes are blown, so dark as he makes an aching, soft whimper that is decidedly satisfying and arousing, but not what Bucky's looking for--

"Got it, Rogers?" He rattles him, digging his fingers into his jaw and shaking him around a little. Just for fun.

"Sir, yes, sir." Steve rasps, out of breath despite the fact that they're not kissing like they're about to die anymore.

"Great," Bucky smirks, lifting one leg smoothly to wrap around his waist, then following it with the other, easy as a practiced dancer. Steve's heavy hands land on his ass immediately. "Counter," Bucky orders, adding, "hop to it, soldier," when Steve just stares for a moment. Staring at nothing, his eyes are hazy, and his mind is gone. He's severely caught up in the heat and friction of their erections finally fucking being pressed together but... Steve's a good boy, so he follows, breathing heavy like he's already inside him and battling against the velvet-soft tight heat of his body.

Cute.

Bucky is gonna have fun this morning. He's gonna dig his nails into Steve and make him fuck him through orgasms--not his own, but Steve's stupid big, sensitive, full-body Steve-gasms--until he's nothing but a shivering, electric lump of putty on top of him, barely thrusting into him, barely making sense as he begs to be done. Hypersensitivite. Feverish. Wet. Bucky will hold him to wanting to soak in him all day when he's gone, and Bucky will be soaking. Steve-gasms don't come without a fuck-load of cum and Bucky is prepared to be more filled than he's ever been in his life.

I intended to add more praise, but then I got carried away with the endearing Steve "himbo when horny" Rogers mentality. I hope that was still worth the wait 😘

[asirensrage]

Saudade - Chapter 5

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: This chapter is much longer than the others. It originally was two chapters, but one was much shorter. I considered making the larger one smaller but it didn't feel right. So, at the suggestion of a friend, I merged them. I was at a con today and found barely any Tokyo Revengers merch so I have to update to add my part to the fandom. If only to make myself feel better knowing that people are still here lol.

I hope you enjoy it. Your comments mean the world to me. Thank you all.

also on ao3

fic masterlist - prev chapter

THE PAST

It’s been a week since the future Takemichi left and she misses him. Not just because he was someone to talk to, but the current Takemichi isn’t on the same level. He’s more immature and honestly? She’s beginning to wonder what Hinata even sees in him. If he wasn’t her brother, she wouldn’t be near him. 

Luckily, he seems far more involved with his own friends than her and Takara is left to her own devices. Unfortunately, she only has some acquaintances and no sports for her to distract herself with. She spends her time doing homework and regretting the way she’s stuck here. 

She doesn’t wake up back home when Takemichi returns to the future. She’s just left with a weird sense of longing and the realization that she can’t really picture what her old bedroom looked like. She spent all her free time there. She should know, shouldn’t she? It sits like lead in her stomach. 

She slips unseen through the house that has claimed her. Her parents, these parents, don’t entirely seem to care that she exists. They’ll greet her and speak to her, but sometimes she sees the ways their eyes slip off of her, like oil against water. Sometimes they are startled by her presence, as though they’ve forgotten she’s there. Whoever’s placed her in this world has done a shit job. Old resentment festers but she’s learned long ago to cleanse the wound. She leaves her house and spends her time on her rollerblades, feeling more at home when she’s speeding down the path with her own skill than she does anywhere else. 

🏍️

Takara is sixteen. 

She’s in a body that she did not grow up in, with a family she doesn’t belong to, and acutely aware that she’s alone. She wishes Takemichi did not have to return to a future that feels impossible to see. She wishes she had something to fill her time with like before so that she doesn’t actually notice how she feels. 

On the one hand, she should be glad that she has the time to explore the areas where they live, on the other, she’s bored out of her mind. She hates being bored. 

It’s with a little research that she manages to track down a sports shop. Baseball is huge here, so she grabs the basic equipment for that, and she manages to find a hockey stick so that she can at least keep up with her slapshots. The store owner also pointed her in the direction of a rink that had skate rentals. A small thing but it already feels like a relief, like she hasn’t lost everything. 

She gets about a block with the large equipment bag thrown over her shoulder when a shadow falls over her as someone steps up next to her. She glances over before scowling. 

“What the fuck do you want?” 

It’s the giant from the other day. The one who said he wasn’t with the boys who hunted her down before claiming them as she made her escape. 

He grins at her and takes a drag of his cigarette. “Looked like you needed help. Thought I’d offer my services.” 

“With what? Reaching a top shelf that I don’t need anything from? Or hitting your head on the doorway on your way out?”

“Your bag,” he says, not at all put out by her attitude. “Looks bigger than you.”

“I’ve had bigger.”

His eyes seem to shine at that and she adjusts the grip on the hockey stick, ready to drop the bag and hit him if she needs to. “Let me carry it for you. You can buy me lunch to pay me back.”

She stops and stares at him. “What kind of shit deal is that?”

“One where we both win.”

“Sounds like I lose regardless.” An idea pops into her head and while it might bite her in the ass, it’ll at least entertain her for a bit. “How about this? We have a shoot-out. Whoever scores the most goals in five minutes wins.”

He steps closer. “Yeah? What do I get if I win?”

She tries not to roll her eyes. “You win and I’ll buy you that lunch.”

“And if you win?”

“You stop stalking me and leave me the fuck alone.” 

He takes another drag of his cigarette. “If I win, I want a kiss.”

She can’t stop herself from scrunching up her face at the idea. “A kiss?” She’s never kissed anyone before. She’s always been too busy. 

He laughs. “Yeah, princess. A kiss.”

She’s not sure if it’s confidence or simply the desire to wipe the expression off of his face. “Don’t call me that. And fine. You’re on.”

Hanma is a terrible loser. It’s kind of hilarious to see how frustrated he gets when he misses a shot, as though he can’t imagine being bad at something, but he makes up for it with how he praises every single one of her goals. She’d almost think he wants her to win. It sits sickly sweet in her mouth, making her nauseous. 

When she wins, because of course she does, she’s played hockey since she could balance on skates, she leans on her stick, and stares at him, feeling justifiably smug. “I win. That means you fuck off and leave me alone.”

“Oh it does, does it?”

Her eyes narrow, the tone reminding her of the way her brothers used to trick her. “That was the bet.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees. He darts forward, lips pressing against hers. She reels back and does the one thing her brothers drilled into her. She punches him. When he pulls back laughing, she adjusts her grip and swings, slamming the hockey stick up between his legs. He chokes on his laughter and she pulls back the stick. He doesn’t quite fall to his knees, but he does bend over, trying to breathe through the pain. She uses the angle and changes her grip on the hockey stick until she’s swinging it like a bat into his head. This time he falls. 

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” she snaps. 

His mouth is bloody as he laughs again and she ignores him, picking up her bag and leaving.

🏍️

“Hanagaki!” 

Takara turns automatically at the call of her name before it stuns her. There was no hesitation in acknowledging the name. 

“Hey! Hanagaki, you okay?” 

She blinks, looking up at Draken as he waves his hand in front of her face. “Yeah! Sorry,” she shakes off the feeling that she’s forgetting something and smiles. He’s standing there with his hands in his pocket but he’s not alone. She recognizes Mikey, Mitsuya and Baji standing with him. There are a couple others with them but she’s not sure who they are. She looks back at Draken. “What’s up?”

“Where are you off to?” 

“And what are you wearing?” Baji asks, gaze dropping down. 

She scowls automatically, aware of the insult. “Clothes. Why? Want some shopping tips?”

“Not from you,” he scoffs. “I was almost blinded looking at you.”

“You’re welcome to close your eyes,” she sneers before realizing that some of the others are staring at her in surprise. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I’ve had a shit week.”

“You okay?” Mitsuya asks. 

“Yeah, just had to teach some asshole the meaning of consent.” Their gazes sharpen and she even sees Mikey straighten. 

“Consent?” Draken asks. “Who? What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

Her chin juts out. “I’m fine. Like I said, I taught him the meaning of consent.” The tension eases at their obvious concern and she’s reminded oddly of facing not only her brothers but her friends as well. Her attitude fades and she shifts in place. “What are you all up to?” 

“Ken-chin was released today,” Mikey says. He smiles as he continues. “We’re going to celebrate. Come with us.” 

“I’m good, thanks.” 

“Come on,” Draken says. “Mikey says to come, you’re coming. Besides, not like I don’t have to thank you for helping us.” 

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know,” his eyes close as he grins. “Doesn’t mean I can’t thank you.” 

“What’s it going to hurt?” Baji adds, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She shoves him off just as fast. 

“Fine.” 

🏍️

She’s squished into a booth between Draken and Mitsuya. Draken has an arm over the back of the booth bench behind her and both of their thighs are pressed against hers. It’s not entirely uncomfortable but Takara is used to being squished between her brothers, especially on road trips. She lost any sense of personal space years ago. 

The boys are rambunctious enough to make the wait staff wary of approaching, at least until Draken tells them to knock it off. The two on each side of her seem to be the more controlled or calming influences of the group, which doesn’t say much for the other side made up of Baji, Mikey and Chifuyu. She was properly introduced to him and Hakkai, who was seated next to Mitsuya but dead silent any time she said something, once she agreed to join them. 

“What do you want?” 

Takara muses over the menu but nothing seems appealing or familiar. “It doesn’t matter. Get me whatever. Maybe something with meat.” She can use the protein. 

As soon as they order her curry, she regrets it. 

Takara has never really been a fan of curry or spicy food in general. She blames her ancestors…and the fact that her parents weren’t that big on expanding their culinary horizons when she was a kid. She never put much thought into it if she’s honest, aside from the way her teammates would laugh when they watch her attempt spicy food. Now she’s not looking forward to getting this dish…and having to force herself to eat some of it. She did tell them to get her anything. She wasn’t really thinking about the possibilities. 

“So tell us about yourself.”

“Hmm?” She looks up, drawn out of her thoughts, as she realizes that Draken, Mitsuya and Mikey are staring at her. “What do you want to know?”

“Where’d you learn to skate?”

“Where does anyone?” She asks, reaching over to take a sip of her drink. “The rink.”

“Where do you go to school?”

She answers without thinking and is surprised to see them all staring at her in shock. Even the others on the edge. “What?”

“You’re in high school?”

She frowns, confused at the reaction. “Aren’t you?” 

It turns out, they’re not. Most of them are in their last year of middle school and while some are starting to stress about the entrance exams, others aren’t. It doesn’t really make sense to her because while she’s sixteen, she’s born in the same year that Mikey, Draken and Mitsuya are. She just had the advantage, or disadvantage depending on who you asked, to be born in January when the school term starts in April. 

“You’re so small,” Draken says. “I can’t believe you’re older than us.” 

“I will kick your ass,” she points at him. “Don’t fucking test me.”

“Can you reach?” he teases. Her eyes narrow but she’s drawn away from responding by the arrival of the food. She looks at the dishes, wondering which one is hers and mentally trying to figure out how she’s going to get out of this. 

Until it’s placed in front of her. 

 It smells delicious. If anyone notices her hesitance, they don’t comment on it. Instead they talk over her and Takara is left to try it on her own. 

This isn’t curry. It can’t be because Takara has tried curry before and not enjoyed it. This? This is fantastic. 

“Hey…hey, Takara, you alright?” She looks up at the sound of her name. Mikey is staring at her, confused. “You’re crying.” 

She reaches up, touching her cheek. He’s right. She’s crying and the moment she realizes, she starts crying harder. She vaguely hears the boys around her start to panic, but she ignores it. Something is wrong. It’s wrong because she’s not herself and she shouldn’t like this and nothing is right. 

Someone’s arm wraps around her shoulders and she finds herself being pulled into a chest. A hand rubs her back and she hears him whisper “Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” It’s strangely comforting, as though they’ve done it a million times. In the back of her mind, she hears Draken telling everyone to be quiet. 

When she finally feels like she can breathe, when the tears stop falling and she calms down, she pulls away. 

Mitsuya smiles softly and lets her go. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m used to girls crying on me. I have two little sisters. They come to me for every scrape.”

She snorts at the imagery of the big bad biker being bombarded by little girls crying. “Still, thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“What was wrong?” 

“Was the food that bad?” Mikey asked, looking completely serious. It’s enough to make her laugh. The tension eases at the sound of it and while the others still keep looking at her, 

“No, I just…” She goes to slip into the well-worn excuse she knows will make them stop asking, but Draken seems to catch on before she even can. 

“You don’t have to say,” he tells her. “None of our business.” She’s not sure if he’s being polite and giving her an out, or he just doesn’t want to hear it. Either way, it saves her an excuse. 

“Hey Takara! Let me tell you about the time…” One of the boys calls out, telling a story about their friend and the last mess they got in. The boys start teasing him and he tries to explain what really happened. It’s enough to distract her from nearly throwing up when she tries to eat again. The fact that it tastes good sits uneasily in her stomach. She pushes it away, deciding not to force herself and one of the boys takes it to test and ends up eating the rest of it.  

By the time they all leave, her crying is unmentioned and the cause of it slips through her fingers. She doesn’t recall what exactly was wrong. 

🏍️

Something breaks. She’s not sure if it was the dinner or Draken getting out of the hospital or the knowledge of her fighting to teach someone consent, but she suddenly finds herself constantly in someone’s company. It’s exhausting and some days she refuses to leave her house, just to ensure they can’t bother her. Not that it’s ever stopped Mikey or Draken from just walking in. 

She’s buried in blankets and half asleep when Takemichi comes barrelling into her room. 

“Takara!”

She lifts the blankets down just enough to see him before he runs towards her and hugs her tightly. “Get off! What the fuck Takemichi?”

“Sorry! Sorry!” He pulls back but stays seated on the edge of her bed. “I just got back. Well, not right now, maybe an hour or two ago? I was in the public baths with Mikey and Draken and then there was this meeting. It’s just…so good to see you.”

That gets her attention. She sits up and faces him. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you told me to pass on a message!” 

“What?” That…sounded like something she’d do if she knew she could communicate with her past self. Watch out on her left in that last game, don’t eat the shellfish at the going away party… “What did I say?”

“You told me to tell you everything.” And he does.

It’s enough to drive her out of bed and put on her skates. She thinks best when she’s moving. 

Takara skates down the dark and empty streets, her mind running over the new things she’s learned. Takemichi tells her everything about the future including Draken being in jail because of Kisaki and Toman still being led by Mikey and Kisaki. He told her about Hinata dying in the manner she did and his promise to take over Toman to make sure it changes. The only thing he hesitated on was her future. He told her she’s alive and still involved in the gang even when he wasn’t. She told him she swore to keep him alive so he can keep his promise. 

He didn’t tell her everything. She knows because her brother is a terrible liar. He always has been. At least, she’s always known when her brothers were lying to her. They couldn’t– 

She forces her thoughts back on track. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was the point her future self made. Why was Kisaki so focused on Hinata and Takemichi? Far as either of them knew, neither of them even knew Kisaki. At least…Takemichi didn’t. Until now. 

There’s only one thing to do. She needs to talk to Hinata. 

🏍️

It’s only when she’s outside the girl’s apartment building that she realizes how late it is. It’s not like she can throw rocks at her window to get her attention. She stands there, staring at the building before it occurs how creepy she looks and she goes to sit down on a ledge so she can figure out what to do. 

She calls Takemichi, but her brother must be knocked out because he’s not answering. Muttering how useless he is under her breath, she searches her contacts for another answer. She doesn’t have Hina or even Emma, but she does have a bunch of the boys who have been following her around. Baji and Mitsuya are out. Neither of them are likely to have Hina’s number. The only one she can think of might be Emma and the only way she’s going to get her number is through her brother. 

Takara is already tired, but if she’s going to help Takemichi, she needs the info. She’s going to have to call Mikey and deal with the fact that she’s been avoiding them. She half hopes he’s asleep so she doesn’t have to listen to him whine, or that Emma’s right next to him. Still, she presses his contact and waits. 

“Yeah?”

“Mikey, it’s Takara.”

“Who? Do we have a friend named Takara?” she hears him ask someone on his side. “Think we remember one…” 

“Okay okay,” she calls out. “I’m sorry!”

“Hmm..”

“Oh my god,” she mutters to herself. “Will it help if I promise not to avoid you guys anymore?”

“Takara! I remember now!” 

“Of course you do. Look, can I have Emma’s number?” 

“Emma? What do you want with Emma?”

“I’m outside Hina’s place because I wanted to talk to her, but it’s late so I can’t go to the door and don’t have her number.” 

There’s a moment of silence before he finally responds. “Takara, do you know what time it is?”

“I’m aware, Mikey. Can I have her number? Please?” 

“Stay there.” He hangs up on her. 

“What the fuck,” she stares at the phone for a moment. Not only does she get pounced on by a time-travelling brother, but she’s pulled out of her bed because she can’t think sitting still and now she’s getting hung up on. Mentally cursing everyone who’s ever been a problem for her, including whatever higher powers dropped her into this role, Takara sits and waits. 

She considers practising learning to grind on the edge of the ledge, but considering it’s dark and she’s more than likely going to wipe out, she refrains. She doesn’t want to wake anyone up at this hour. So she sits, fiddling with her laces and using the time to double-check the wheels on her blades. 

Not even ten minutes pass when she hears the sound of a motorcycle. Takara looks up at the noise and sighs. Mikey parks the motorcycle before striding towards her. Somehow, he manages to look confident and bored all at once, as though she’s dragged him from his bed to come rescue her. 

She skates over to him, meeting him halfway. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be here alone, Takara.” 

There’s something about the way he says it. He doesn’t sound like the irritated, teasing boy she knows. He sounds like Takemichi describes him when he talks about their gang meetings. 

“You didn’t have to come, Mikey. I just needed a number.” It was unusual to see him alone. She half expected Draken to appear, irritated at Mikey leaving him behind. No one comes though. 

“You can have it, but I can’t let Takemitchy’s sister be out here alone. Where is your brother?”

“Asleep?” Takara shrugs. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“Come. Ride with me.”

“I’m busy,” Takara says, looking at him dryly. “Are you going to give me Emma’s number or not?”

“You’re not contacting Hina now. She’s asleep. Emma’s asleep. Get on my bike. I’ll give you the number and you can deal with this tomorrow. When they’re awake.”

She skates side to side, considering his words. “Give me the number and I’ll go home.” 

He stares at her for a long minute. “After.” There’s something in his eyes that warns her not to argue. It’s a rare look on him, at least that she’s seen so far. 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m wearing my blades. It’s not easy to ride with them on.”

He shrugs, “Take them off.” 

“And only wear socks on your bike?” She rolls her eyes when he just stares at her. “Fuck, fine.” He grabs her wrist and pulls her back towards his motorcycle. She lets him drag her, moving her feet only when necessary to fix her footing to make sure she doesn’t trip. She sits on his bike, leaning down and unlacing her rollerblades. She nearly topples both her and the bike over as she’s pulling one of them off. Mikey grabs the bike, keeping it steady.

Takara ties the laces together and tries not to wince as her feet quickly get cold. She hangs the rollerblades around the back of her neck, letting them rest just under her arms. It’s not going to be comfortable, but since Mikey has basically demanded she comply, he could deal with them digging into his back for all she cared. 

Mikey drives like a maniac. She thought Baji was bad in his race to make sure his friend was okay, but there’s no reason for Mikey to be speeding the way he is and weaving between cars. She’s tempted to let go, to see if she can hold herself up with her legs and just feel the wind blow past her. She almost feels free like this, like she’s not pretending to be someone else. She can forget that she’s not meant to be here. 

When he finally slows and pulls up by her house, she lets go. She sits there for a moment, trying to decide if the best choice is to just run for it in her bare socks or untie her blades and shove her feet back in. Mikey doesn’t move. 

“You gonna give me Emma’s number or what?” 

“Why do you have to talk to Hinata so bad?” He turns slightly to see her. 

“Girl stuff,” she says. It’s not like she can tell him she’s trying to stop a future where her brother keeps almost getting killed. 

He pulls out his phone and after a moment, she feels hers buzz in her pocket. “I texted it,” he says. “Don’t do this again, okay, Kara-chan?”

“Don’t call me that,” she glares at him before making her decision. “Thanks for the ride!” She awkwardly hops off the bike before running to her house, silently praying that her parents are fast asleep and none the wiser to her excursion. 

She hears Mikey drive off once she’s actually in her house and Takara does her best to silently put down her blades and creep to her bedroom. She doesn’t know why Mikey came to drive her home, or why he was so insistent about it. Especially since she has been avoiding them since she cried in front of all of them. Thankfully, no one’s told Takemichi about it, or if they have, it was the old one…not hers. She falls back on her bed and pulls out her phone, adding Emma’s number to her contacts. Whatever. She’ll deal with it later. She has more important things to worry about. 

🏍️

“Kisaki Tetta?” Hinata blinks in surprise, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, I know him.” 

Takara perks up and tries to squash the excitement she feels in possibly getting this figured out. “Oh yeah?” 

“We were in cram school together,” Hinata says. “Haven't seen him this year but he’s always been really smart. He was doing math equations that were far ahead of what we were taught.” 

That…fits with the little Takara knows of the future and the way Takemichi has yet to avoid his own fate or Hina’s. He would have to be intelligent to be able to plan the things Takemichi heard from Draken and even herself in the future. It makes this more dangerous. Takara isn’t intelligent in the same way, but she knows how to create a strategy based on the way people play, she knows how to use what she has to gain the advantage. It’s not the same as planning a play in hockey, but she’ll figure it out. She has to. 

“He doesn’t attend cram school anymore?” she asks, fidgeting with the straw of her cup.

“No,” Hinata answers. “Why do you ask? Did you meet him?” 

“Not that I know of,” Takara answers honestly. “Takemichi told me he joined Toman, that he’s a new captain.”

“So why did you ask me about him?”

Takara shrugs, leaning into the nonchalance she used to use on her brothers whenever she wanted something. “I figured I’d ask everyone I know. Someone was bound to know something. Besides, I want to know who my brother is around. Toman is alright, but you never know what might slip through the cracks.” 

“Where is Takemichi?” Hinata asks, sounding sweet. “I haven’t seen him all day.” 

Takemichi is on some sort of quest to drag Baji back to Toman. That also doesn’t make sense to Takara because she’s been around Baji and the others. They got along like a well-oiled machine, like a team that has spent days practicing together. His leaving with no explanation except that he doesn’t want to be involved anymore doesn’t make sense. It makes her regret avoiding them because clearly, she missed something important. 

“Who knows,” she says. “Probably doing something stupid with his friends.” 

Hinata giggles at that. “We’ve never really talked before,” she said. “I was a little nervous when you texted me.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re a little scary.”

Takara stares at the younger girl. “What? Really?”

Hinata smiles. “You’re really cool, especially with your skating, but you always seemed…alone. I’m glad I’m getting to know you.” 

Well, that sounds depressing. Takara isn’t sure how to take that, she’s never really been alone her entire life. She’s always been busy with her teams or her family. Now though all she really has is Takemichi and when he’s not his future self, he’s gone most of the time. 

“Me too,” she finally says, smiling back. “So…you and Kisaki are just friends?” 

Hinata looks a little surprised by the way Takara brings the conversation right back to where they started. “Yeah, we were just friends. I admired him though, he was so smart. He always seemed so shy.”

Between what she knows about him from her brother, and the way Hinata remembers him, triggers something in her memory. Takara thinks back to her brothers and the way one of their friends hung around. He was a strange one and lingered around her the way she knew he shouldn’t. She had only told her brother when he said something he shouldn’t have. Her brothers came home with bloodied fists and she never saw him again. “Do you think he ever had a crush on you?” 

“What?” Hinata laughs. “No! We were friends!” 

“Okay,” Takara says, forcing herself to laugh. She doesn’t believe it. No one murders someone repeatedly if they are just friends. At least not on his side. For a moment it occurs to her just how strange the situation is. What is her life coming to? 

“Takara?” 

She blinks back in focus, smiling at Hinata. “Sorry. It was a long night.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me, Hinata. I’ll be fine.”

🏍️

It’s by complete accident that she runs into Baji. 

She’s skating down the street, ignoring the glares some people send her way when she nearly crashes him as he exits a store. 

“Woah!” He catches her before she falls when she tries to dodge out of the way to keep herself from injuring him. He lets go as soon as she’s standing. “Takara?”

“Oh, hey Baji,” She glances around but there’s no one else around. “How’s it going?” She shifts her feet back and forth, keeping herself standing. 

He frowns slightly but it looks a little forced. “What are you doing?”

“What?”

“I’m not part of Toman anymore. Why are you talking to me?”

“Why are you talking to me?” she snaps back automatically. “I’m not part of Toman, what the fuck do I care if you are or not.”

“Really?” he grins. “Because your brother has been demanding I return.”

“I don’t control him,” she says with a shrug. 

“So you’re not going to try to convince me to go back?” he looks like he doesn’t believe her. 

“No offence, but I have better things to do with my time.” That’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. “You must have your reasons for changing teams. People usually do.” 

He looks like he doesn’t quite believe her. “You don’t care?”

“Should I?” 

“That’s her, Officer!” 

Takara looks to the side, seeing an older woman pointing towards her. The police officer standing next to her is staring towards Takara.  “Shit.” She’s been told that skating in public places is a disturbance but she’s ignored it. She can’t get in trouble if they can’t catch her. 

Baji grins at her, sharp and wide. His concern seems forgotten as he grabs her hand and pulls her as he takes off. She hears someone yell for them to stop but she lets him drag her. He knows the area better than she does, even with all her wandering. 

By the time they stop, they’re both laughing hysterically. They managed to ditch the cop but didn’t pause until the trail of people yelling after them faded and they were left alone in an alleyway off of a park. 

Once they stopped, Baji was leaning against a wall and Takara moved back and forth in place. 

“Thanks,” she says once they catch their breath. 

“Nah,” he tilts his head back and rests it against the stone. “Thank you. Been a while since I laughed like that.” 

“That’s sad.” She says it without thinking. 

“Ha!” he nods. “Yeah, it is.” He falls silent and Takara is content to wait. She’s not about to dive back into public this soon after being chased by the police. They’re likely still looking for her. “I don’t regret my choice.”

“Huh? What choice?”

“To leave Toman.” He looks over at her. “It’s for the best.”

“Okay?” Takara shrugs. She’s not here to judge him or demand he return. That’s apparently Takemichi’s job. She makes a mental note to go talk to her brother and figure out what his plan is. She was half asleep and focused on the fact that she’s still here in the future that she may have tuned him out a little…she doesn’t remember hearing about any plans except that he was going to get Baji back. 

He looks at her carefully and she lets the silence fall as he seems to weigh his options. She takes the chance to practice skating on one foot, keeping her core tight and her balance steady. 

“I’m trying to save them.”

Takara looks up, suddenly interested. “Save who?”

“My friends. All of them. I’m doing this for a reason. I have a plan.”

“Is it a good one?” she can’t help but ask.

“It’ll work,” he nods, mostly to himself. 

“That’s not what I asked,” she says, taking note of the way he’s not answering. He doesn’t respond and Takara doesn’t push. Her brother used to be the same way. Always had to do his own thing and never wanted an opinion until it blew up in his face. Not…Takemichi. Her other one. One of them. 

She stops moving. She knows their names. She does. They were some of her first words but they’re not…they’re not coming to her. It’s like they’re on the tip of her tongue but she can’t seem to grasp it. 

“-kara?�� Baji steps toward her, drawn out of his planned monologue. “Hey. You okay?” It’s not the first time he’s seen her drift off in thought, face paling as tears build in her eyes. 

Her gaze snaps to him as the weight drops in her stomach at the realization that she can’t remember her brothers’ names. “I have to go.” 

She bolts. Baji runs after her, yelling for her to stop, but Takara is on wheels and moves like she was born on them. She speeds up, weaving around people with skill she doesn’t often show as she succumbs to the desire to run. 

Something is wrong. It’s so fucking wrong that she can barely breathe from the weight on her chest and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She runs over all the names she knows, ones that fit her old life and the person she used to be, but nothing feels like it fits. None of them sound right coming from her lips and she falls to her knees, barely aware of the way her landing scrapes open the skin. She bleeds, on the pavement and in her soul. 

Takara doesn’t belong here and every moment is a reminder…except that things keep escaping her. Nothing is as bad as this. Her brothers taught her to skate, they terrorized her and cheered her on and the three of them ran circles around their parents. They are a part of her, down to the DNA they share….

She throws up, heaving the remains of her lunch as her body feels like it’s collapsing inward. She doesn’t share their DNA anymore. She’s not herself. Takara is stuck in a body that shouldn’t exist and playing a role that was cut out just for her. She doesn’t know why. She doesn’t know what happened or if there’s a reason…but she’s losing herself. She’s losing everything. 

She only moves when she hears someone shout at her and threaten to call the police. It’s automatic. Takara is only half aware of where she’s going, numb to the world as she goes through the motions to go home. She wants to go to bed. She wants to crawl in and never come out until everything returns to normal. Until she’s back where she belongs. 

There’s no car in the driveway and she silently prays that no one is home so she doesn’t have to explain why she feels like shit. She takes off her rollerblades outside the door and creeps in. She makes it as far as the living room doorway before her name is called out. Takara turns at Takemichi’s voice and stops at the sight of the stranger in her home. The boy next to Takemichi is bleach blond and covered in bandages. He looks like he had the shit beat out of him. 

Her mouth opens before she can stop herself. “What the fuck happened to you?”

The grief at the loss of a name slips to the back of her mind, forgotten as her brother introduces her to his new friend, Chifuyu. 

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[decepti-thots]

For the headcanon thing: Seeker wing language, bonds(the kind one or more Transformers can communicate through and feel each other's feelings and what not), and for a not so common one: Cold Constructs have to deal chronic pains and illness, since their frame was made and not forged.(I swear I'm not making this up, I saw a handful of people writing this)

Oooh, a grab bag. Let's go with a speed round!

Seeker wing language: 😒 This falls into a couple 'ehhh' categories for me. One is just that it reads kinda lazy to me 90% of the time in that it's a way for an author to have it fulfil whatever purpose they need to have characters know stuff about each other or whatever, usually of the 'don't know how to have these characters COMMUNICATE these things so they Just Know bc of the Magic Body Language' variety. I also tend to dislike it because it overwhelmingly comes along with the fanon around different alt modes = different 'species' of Cybertronian, which I have never seen done well, like literally Not One Time lol. Pass.

Bonds: solid 😐, where 'neutral' here means 'depends on the actual fanon being used', because there's a couple different things this could refer to! It can easily fall into the above trope about 'wow they're telepathic, how convenient' stuff, admittedly. In addition to that, for romantic pairings, it easily slips into weird monogamy-is-just-natural 'soulmate' stuff too, lol. (I would perhaps be interested in a version of that which treated is as the existentially terrifying concept it actually reads as to me!) I do, however, like the concept that e.g. IDW runs with in canon, where certain mechs being born with this attribute is both an involuntary thing and also largely a kind of inconvenience; taken out of the typical romance-focused fanon (where it tends to grate more than not for me tbh), it becomes more interesting as a possible bit of alien culture-building weirdness that impacts how society works for certain characters. I think where that lands for me is that there's no real sentimentality to it most of the time. I guess this is a place where fanon takes that hew closer to canon are more interesting to me!

Cold constructs having chronic pain: …unrated, becuase my take on this is that in the right hands there would be a thoughtful concept to tease out there in parallel with the better executions of the cold construct stuff as class metaphor and such, and the way in real life disability and class are extremely linked. And in the wrong hands (I think a lot of hands) it would be ableist as fuck lmao, which like. Canon has enough underlying issues with on its own lbr. So it would be like. Well in theory that would be of interest; in practice I think this fandom is consistently shit about disability, so….

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for trying to keep my neighbor’s outdoor cats indoors?

I’m currently pet sitting for a family on my block, and on top of me just kind of not liking them as people the longer I’m here, I also am becoming more and more uncomfortable with the way they handle pets. Their dog is sweet but totally misbehaved, and relevant to this story, they have two outdoor cats. We live in an area with several families with outdoor cats, but most certainly not an area that’s safe for outdoor cats as we live along a busy road people are constantly speeding on, and there are tons of foxes and raccoons and other cats that they can get into trouble with. I can count six times going down that road alone below the speed limit that I’ve narrowly avoided running over someone’s outdoor cat in the middle of the night.

I didn’t know when they asked me if I’d pet sit for the dog and cats that their cats were free to just leave whenever. But when the family was giving me all the info to sit for their animals, they told me that the cats came in and out through the window with a giant hole in the screen. I didn’t want to go against them at first, but after an air quality alert was issued for my area, I knew I didn’t want those cats going outside in the smoke and heat with everything else. So I made sure both cats were inside and shut the window just to make sure they wouldn’t be sick or endangered while I was looking after them.

Both cats disappeared a couple of days later, and after leaving the window and door open for a bit, one of them returned for food. The other hasn’t come back, and the owner is aware- I called and explained that I’d shut the window due to the air quality warning and the cats had disappeared- but isn’t concerned the other is in danger or that any harm came to her. However, she is mad that I shut the window, not because I unknowingly locked her cats out, but because she thought I was judging her ways of caring for her pets.

And I don’t know. Maybe I was. Maybe I do think that she’s a bad owner. Or maybe I just thought it would be harmless to keep them in for my own peace of mind. Or was just trying to do right by them and protect them while I was in charge. I don’t know. But I can tell the owner is annoyed that I tried to do things my own way and thinks I’m judgmental. I didn’t mean any harm, but I don’t know- does it make me bad that I resent her now when I wasn’t operating out of resentment or thinking I knew better?

I never want to sit for this family again, and I really don’t think I was in the wrong, but I know she does, and I don’t know if I actually fucked up. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[onceuponastory]

this lovely night - sam wilson x reader

“Is it out of line If I was to be bold and say, "Would you be mine?” - whistle for the choir by the fratellis 

Plot: After having no luck finding love the usual ways, Y/N decides to try her luck speed dating. At first, it seems her bad luck is continuing... until she meets Captain America himself, Sam Wilson. Pairing: Cap!Sam Wilson x Female!Reader (also the TINIEST hint of Sarah Wilson x Bucky) Warnings: Mentions of sexism/sexist comments, Sam being a little nervous about dating and a few alcohol mentions. No sexism from Sam though! He could never! Other than that, just sickly sweet fluff. Just how I like it! But as usual, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: This was written for @late-to-the-party-81‘s Challenge Yourself Challenge, where you have to write for a character/trope etc that you haven’t written for before. This is my first time writing for Sam! Thank you again to @staticscreenwriting / @astartothemoon​ for my dividers! Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“You know.” The man in front of Y/N begins, stopping only to take another big gulp of his beer. Y/N’s stomach twists. God knows what he’s about to say now. “I really think you’d make an excellent housewife.” He leans back, grinning at her. Y/N’s stomach churns, and she wraps her jacket closer around herself, hoping it shields her body from his gaze. “And a great mother to our kids. You’d stay home, of course, and I’ll provide for us all.”

And there it is. 

“I have a job. I’m keeping that.” she snaps back. Fucking sexist loser. Thankfully, before the man can say anything else… or before Y/N can throw her drink all over him, the announcer calls out that it’s time to change over, and Y/N gets out of there as quickly as humanly possible. As she collapses into another seat, she can’t ignore the disappointment settling in the pit of her stomach. Sure, he’s a sexist pig, but that marks yet another failure tonight.

After so long of scouring dating apps for someone, yet having no success, Y/N turned to speed dating. After all, even if it all crashes and burns, at least she tried it once, right? And so far, like every of her other attempts to find love, tonight has been just as unsuccessful as the others. That’s not to say most of the men she’s encountered tonight have been awful human beings like the man she just had the displeasure of meeting. But almost every girl, Y/N included, wants to find her Mr Right, and none of the men she’s met have gave her that spark, that feeling in your stomach that tells you this is the one for you. Honestly, she’s already resigned herself to the fact that she isn’t going to meet the love of her life. Or at least, they definitely aren’t here. 

Although, if this night is a complete failure, at least she can just get drunk and forget it all.

As the night goes on, Y/N’s prediction seems to becoming true. Well, back to the dating apps it is. Maybe the third time will be lucky?

“Hey, Y/N right? Nice to meet you.” Another male voice speaks. When Y/N looks back up and recognises who’s sitting opposite her, she gasps.

Captain America himself, Sam Wilson, is sitting opposite her. And somehow, he looks even hotter than he does on TV. In that moment, she loses all ability to speak, think… or even breathe. This is not where she expected this night to go, to have a literal Avenger sitting in front of her. She didn’t even notice him come in or move around the room. It’s like he just materialised out of nowhere, right when she needed it. He holds out his hand, and she shakes it. As her fingers brush against his, something twinges in her stomach.

“Are you alright?” He frowns, clearly confused and concerned by her silence. Heat settles on her cheeks then, and she chuckles awkwardly.

“No, I’m okay. I’m just more shocked that Captain America is here more than anything. Forgive me for being so forward, but I thought someone like you would have no issue finding love. I mean… look at you.” Her sudden honesty takes her off guard slightly, and for a moment she’s worried that she’s embarrassed herself even more. Yet, to her relief, he chuckles, smirking slightly. Or maybe the reason she’s so forward around Sam is because of how safe and comfortable she feels around him already. It’s like they’ve known each other for years, rather than only just meeting now. But Sam’s kindness and ability to make anyone feel at ease isn’t surprising. After all, there’s a reason why Steve Rogers' chose him to be his successor.

“Well, dating is tough for everyone. And to be honest, most people I date aren’t as cool with me being gone for such long periods of time, or the whole dating a public figure side of things. Seems like they just want a ‘normal’ life.” He admits. Although he still seems upbeat, Y/N registers the disappointment lacing his tone. And it breaks her heart. The Captain America identity is such a huge part of Sam and his life, and he deserves someone who respects that, and is proud to have him representing it, and to be dating him. She wouldn’t mind that life at all. She’d be proud to be at his side, to know that her boyfriend is a symbol of hope and heroism for so many, and someone who saves the world day in and day out.

He glances over at her again, grinning once more. “But I am glad that I came tonight.” And something deep in Y/N’s stomach flutters, like it never has before. Is this it? Is this the feeling that I’ve met the one? Looking over at Sam, Y/N smiles. If it is, she’s glad it’s come now. “And besides, you don’t need to worry about the formal stuff now. Please call me Sam.”

“When I’m back in Delacroix, I love to go fishing with Bucky, my sister, and my nephews. Spending all that time out on the open water, having an ice cold beer as the sun beats down on you….” 

“Stop!” she gasps, moaning happily. “That sounds incredible. I’d love that. Just a shame I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that. I’ll take you. It could be one of our next dates.” He winks, and Y/N giggles. 

“Oh, next time huh? I’d love that.” She sighs dreamily. God, this is incredible. Sam really is the full package. He’s caring, charming, hilarious… and, of course, drop dead gorgeous. After all, she noticed the outline of his muscles through his shirt pretty soon into their date. Although, given that he’s a literal superhero, that’s unsurprising. Despite that, though, she and Sam are still having a good time, regardless of his celebrity status.

Thankfully, tonight wasn’t such a failure after all.

Yet, a voice soon interrupts, bursting her perfect bubble of happy thoughts. “Excuse me? We were supposed to change over almost five minutes ago, and you two are still talking.” And that brings her back down to earth. Honestly, she’s been having such a good time with Sam that she forgot all about the speed dating element of this. Everyone else just faded away.

“Oh, sorry, man. I’ll go.” As Sam stands up to leave, Y/N reaches out, placing her hand on his and stopping him without even thinking about it. 

“Wait!” she gasps. “I don’t want you to go.”

“You… don’t?” Sam frowns. Almost as if he’s so used to heartbreak and failure that he can’t believe she actually does want him to stay. But Y/N doesn’t even need to think about it. It’s never been as clear to her as it is now.

“No. I don’t. Or at least, if you go, I’m coming with you. Besides… you owe me a fishing date, right?” She just hopes Sam feels the same way about her, and isn't ready to say goodbye just yet. So when he smiles, Y/N breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” He interlocks his fingers with hers then, running his thumb over her knuckles. 

“I’m paying.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m an Avenger, remember? I got this.” Before Y/N can argue or even say another word, Sam has shoved his cash into the hand of the teenage burger joint employee. “Keep the change man, alright?”

“Okay, next time I’m paying. Besides, I’m the one who recommended this place.” She orders when they’ve sat down with their food. Sam raises a brow, grinning.

“Next time, huh?”

“Hey, what did I say? You owe me a fishing trip, remember?” Yet she can’t ignore how heat settles on her cheeks once more, and how something in her stomach flutters with the way he gazes over at her. He looks at her like she’s the most important person in the world to him.

The restaurant isn’t too busy this time of night, meaning she and Sam are practically alone. Like they’re the only two people in the world right now. But honestly, Y/N doesn’t care if the restaurant is packed or empty. All she cares about now is being by Sam’s side. Like she said earlier, it feels like they’ve known each other for years now. They’re both just so comfortable and open around each other, nobody could’ve guessed they only met earlier tonight. Y/N just wishes this night could go on forever. 

If she could, she’d stay by his side forever.

After their meal, Sam insists on walking her home like the true gentlemanly superhero he is.

“Those burgers were incredible.” He sighs happily, holding his stomach. Y/N giggles.

“Told you so. It’s your turn to pick next time, alright Cap?”

“You know… I kinda love it when you call me Cap.” He admits, chuckling.

“I’ll be sure to do it all the time then… Cap.” She winks, which looks like it almost sends Sam’s heart into overdrive. It’s so strange, seeing such a charming literal superhero reduced to a grinning, love struck mess around her. But then again, she’s sure that she’s the same around him.

Sam walks her all the way home, keeping her hand still clasped in his. In fact, she doesn’t think he’s let go of her hand since they left the speed dating venue, keeping her safe and close to him the entire night. Not that she’s complaining, though. Honestly, she hopes he never lets her go.

Unfortunately for them both, soon their walk comes to an end, and they reach the outside of Y/N’s apartment building.

“Guess this is the end of the line.” Sam sighs. 

“Oh please, that’s such a Cap line.” Y/N rolls her eyes. Yet, she can’t help but laugh at his joke. “Seriously though, thank you for tonight, Sam. I had a lot of fun.” Immediately, the mood changes. It’s almost as if the happy moments from earlier tonight are gone as the pair remember that, at least for tonight, the good times are over. All Y/N can think of is one thing:

She doesn’t want this night, or her time with Sam, to ever end.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for taking a chance on me.” Y/N scoffs.

“I wasn’t taking a chance. I really connected with you, Sam, and I want to spend more time with you.” He starts grinning again, one of those huge smiles that takes over your entire face and with a warmth that feels like the sun itself. And it’s all for her.

“You know….” He trails off, chuckling. “I was going to ask if you really did want to go on another date with me, so I’m really glad you said that. Mostly, though, it’s because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen… and I think I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.” She gasps, and her heart begins to pound even faster. Sam comes closer, closing the gap between them both. So close they’re only inches apart now. “May I?” He whispers, tilting his head towards hers. Y/N nods, too speechless to say anything. Slowly, like they’re in a movie, Sam gently leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. When their lips connect, it sends a tingle down her spine and sends her heart into overdrive. Sam wraps his hands around her waist, whilst hers go onto his shoulders. He holds her there for what feels like hours, safe in his embrace. “Can I call you tomorrow?” He asks once they finally, yet reluctantly break apart.

“Of course. Like you even have to ask.” He leans in again, this time kissing her cheek.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispers, his breath hot against her cheek.

“Goodnight Sam.”

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