#I have a Stack of anonymous ones

[cyberllfe]

can i get a hint of what my prompt was? *places 🍯 on the floor*

you don’t have to bribe me, sweetheart, though I do appreciate the extra sugar.

I suspect it was a nines prompt

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Thank you for running this complicated bracket!

I'm so sad though that I realized almost every character left in the AP bracket except one is from a DnD podcast/arc so there's almost no indie ttrpg rep in this round

You're welcome! And yeah, shout-out to Nicky Skyjacks for representing games that aren't D&D.

I was going to offer a teaser of an upcoming bracket because somebody submitted a character from We Will NOT Play D&D, but apparently it's named that because it's a scripted audio drama, and not because they'll play any game except for D&D. :(

Anyways shout out to Interstitial, The Unexplored Places, Campaign, NeoScum, TAZ Amnesty, Chapter and Multiverse, Pest Control, and of course Friends at the Table as well as any other podcasts in this bracket that played non-D&D games that I don't know about.

For those who might want to try listening to actual plays that aren't D&D but want something shorter/less of a commitment than the above, the GM for Campaign also has the podcast One Shot, and there's also Party of One Podcast.

For those wanting to try playing some indie TTRPGs, there's a bunch of cool ones for $10 in this itch.io bundle that's raising money for Medical Aid For Palestinians.

Feel free to reply or reblog with more actual play podcasts that use systems other than Dungeons and Dragons!

[jaeyuniversal]

nonsense - s.jy

pairing: loser shy tutor!sim jaeyun x outgoing tutee fem!reader

synopsis: you're loud, confident, and a little too good at making shy boys squirm. your only issue is you’ve always hated physics—until you meet your painfully shy tutor, jake sim. he’s awkward, brilliant, and blushes every time you call him cute. so naturally, you flirt. hard. at first, he stammers and short-circuits, but as study sessions stack up, jake starts to change. maybe it’s the way you lean a little too close or how he starts to flirt back (badly, but adorably).

featuring: jake sim of enhypen n maki from &team!!

genre: college au fluff!!!

warnings: jake has his first kiss, making-out?? kind of. a bit of jealousy, jake is just a super cute loser. lowercase intended ◡̈

playlist: nonsense by sabrina carpenter & soft spot by keshi

wc: 2.411k

a/n: i fear i will ride the loser jake wave forever! i love nerdy men <3 btw this is not proofread...

you’ve always hated physics.

not because you didn’t get it — okay, maybe a little because of that — but mostly because it was boring. theories and forces and laws. rinse and repeat. you weren’t failing physics. not exactly.

you were, however, spending an uncomfortable amount of time squinting at your textbook wondering how the hell you’d gone from memorizing song lyrics in under a minute to barely remembering newton’s third law. you told yourself it wasn’t that bad. then your lab partner dropped out, and your professor kindly suggested that you “seek out support.”

support came in the form of jake sim.

quiet. polite. a little too handsome for his own good. glasses-wearing, formula-spouting jake, with a habit of ducking his head when people talked too loudly. you’d seen him around campus before — usually alone, sometimes reading while walking (impressive), always in a hoodie two sizes too big, and baggy jeans that he almost steps on. 

you’d think he was popular, but those thick framed glasses always resting on his perfect nose made you think otherwise. 

your meet-cute wasn’t the typical coffee-spill-and-eye-contact thing. it happened last semester, during an elective you were both in: intro to astronomy. you’d been running late one day, flustered and frantic, only one seat left in the lecture hall. next to him. you took it.

he didn’t even glance up.

not until halfway through the class, when you leaned over and whispered, “sorry if i’m invading your orbit.”

he looked at you like he didn’t get the joke. (he didn’t.)

but later that day, you got an anonymous compliment on the university confessions page. “to the girl who sat next to me in astronomy and said something about orbits… you kind of wrecked mine.”

you knew it was him. and you never forgot.

───

“you don’t have to hover,” jake mumbled, eyes focused on the problem set in front of him.

“i’m not hovering. i’m observing… like a particle. you know, in motion.”

“that’s not… how particles work.”

you smiled to yourself. “i was hoping you'd say that.”

he flushed immediately. jake didn’t handle flirting well. hell, he had never even felt the touch of a woman, nevertheless flirted with one. 

you’d learned this by session two. if you got too close, he got tongue tied. if you complimented him, he’d practically glitch. it was fascinating. like a physics experiment, but cuter.

“what happens when you apply an external force to a closed system?” you asked, tapping your pencil.

he looked up slowly, suspicious. “depends on the force.”

you leaned in, gaze playful. “what if it’s me?”

he froze.

“y/n,” he said quietly, “you’re not even trying to learn right now.”

“that’s where you’re wrong, mr. sim.” you leaned back in your chair, spinning your pencil between your fingers. “i’ve been learning a lot.”

he narrowed his eyes, skeptical but intrigued. “like what?”

you met his gaze, serious now. “like how you pretend you didn’t notice me in astronomy last semester. even though you did.”

jake stiffened. his pen slipped from his fingers and rolled across the table.

“i—i didn’t—how did you—”

“i recognized your handwriting,” you said softly. “from the confession post.”

his face went scarlet.

you tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “you called me orbit girl.”

jake looked like he wanted to disappear into the earth’s mantle. “i didn’t think you saw that.”

“i did. i screenshotted it.” you shrugged casually, then added, “still have it.”

he looked like you’d just told him you’d been keeping a shrine in your closet. but beneath the panic, something else flickered — hope, maybe?

“…why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

and there it was. the plot twist.

you dropped your eyes to your notebook, fingers idly brushing a corner.

“i was going to,” you said. “but you never talked to me again. i figured you weren’t interested.”

jake looked stunned. like he’d just missed the punchline to his own joke.

“no! i mean– um…i wasn’t not interested,” he said quickly. “i just didn’t think someone like you would ever…”

“what?” you said, raising a brow. “flirt with their physics tutor?”

jake swallowed hard. “like me back.”

there was a beat of silence. you reached across the table, nudging his pen back toward him.

“you’re cute when you’re nervous, jake” he blushed and wrapped up the tutoring session, brain too flustered to continue talking about his second favorite subject (you’re his favorite). 

───

you asked around for jake’s number which proved to be very difficult. 

no one had it.

so, you did the only thing you could think of. you went to every cafe within a 15 mile radius of your campus, hoping to find the shy boy.

your mission to find him ended up taking longer than anticipated, misjudging how many cafe’s surrounded decelis. you’ve been to 23 and counting, not once finding the fluffy haired boy with glasses way too big for his adorable face. 

as you walk into the twenty-fourth cafe, you think you see him. striped shirt, slightly messy brown hair, around 5’9ish. you walk up to him, tapping on his shoulder when someone behind you calls your name.

“y/n?”

you whip your head around to be met with those big, dark hazel eyes you adored so much.

his plump, heart-shaped lips were wrapped around the straw of his green grape ade, softly biting the plastic. his head was strewn to the side, resembling a golden retriever. 

“i found you!” you happily cheered as you made your way to the little table he was at. 

“f-found me? were you… looking? for me?” he stuttered which made you giggle. 

you fondly smiled at him, “yeah. i was.”

after you ordered an iced mocha, you guys sat in a comfortable silence until you spoke. 

“so,” you said, stirring whipped cream into your drink, “what’s a physics genius like you doing tutoring me when you could be dating someone who understands quantum mechanics?”

jake almost spat out his coffee.

you smiled sweetly. “kidding. kind of.”

“i—i don’t think I’m a genius,” he mumbled. “and I’m not — uh — dating anyone.”

“oh, i know,” you said casually, resting your chin on your hand. “campus gossip moves fast.”

jake’s eyes widened. “wait — what do you mean? what gossip? about me?”

you laughed. “relax, jake. you’re just a bit of a mystery. tall, soft spoken, brainy, never goes to parties. people notice.”

he stared at you like you’d told him he was famous.

you sipped your drink and shrugged. “i noticed.”

the cup trembled in his hand.

“…thanks?” he said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

you leaned forward. “you say that like you don’t believe me.”

jake’s mouth opened, then closed again.

he was still trying to respond when the barista called out your name, signaling your pastries were ready. you winked at him on the way up and when you turned back, he was still watching you, straw halfway to his mouth, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. 

───

you had your feet up on the seat across from you, swinging gently as you skimmed your notes. jake sat across from you, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, manspreading with his textbook open on his lap.

you knew what you were doing when you stretched, your shirt riding up slightly as you leaned across the table to reach a pencil. you knew jake saw. his eyes darted down and back up so fast it was like a reflex.

“everything okay?” you asked sweetly.

“fine!” he said, voice three octaves too high. “great. normal. yup.”

you laughed, tossing your pen down. “you know, if we were measuring awkward tension in this room, we’d have to switch to the richter scale.”

jake groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “why are you like this?”

“because it’s fun watching you short-circuit.”

he peeked at you through his fingers, a lopsided grin starting to form. “you’re evil.”

“i prefer charming.’”

there was a beat of silence. then, softly—

“you are.”

your smile faltered. just for a second. “what?”

jake met your eyes, cheeks still flushed but voice steady. “charming.”

you blinked. it was the first time he’d said something like that without tripping over his own tongue.

“…jake sim,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “are you flirting with me?”

he shrugged — shrugged — with fake nonchalance. “maybe.”

you stared at him.

he stared back.

and then — his pencil rolled off the table and he smacked his head on the edge trying to catch it.

“still me,” he groaned, face down on the table. “still a loser.”

you couldn’t help it. you laughed so hard you nearly fell out of your chair. he was cute and adorably clumsy. exactly. your type. 

───

the next session, you came in with your usual confidence. playful comments. flirty glances.

but jake didn’t fold this time. (immediately).

in fact, when you were about to lean over to grab his calculator, he reached past you and did it first. smooth. like he was testing you.

“looking for this?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “who are you and what have you done with jake?”

he smiled — cocky, but still nervous. “maybe i’m learning.”

you tilted your head. “is this some physics thing? like, building resistance?”

“more like acceleration,” he said softly. “you keep pushing. i’m picking up speed.”

you stared at him.

he immediately panicked. “i mean — not in a creepy way — i just meant—”

you cut him off with a smirk. “careful, jake. you flirt like you solve equations — painfully accurate.”

he blushed again, but this time, he didn’t back away. instead, he looked at you for a long moment, then leaned in a little, just enough to make your breath catch.

“you said once that you noticed me before,” he murmured.

“yeah,” you said slowly.

he smiled, shy and genuine. “i think i’ve been noticing you for a lot longer.”

you forgot how to breathe for a second.

and then he bumped your knee under the table, awkward as ever. “anyway, we should… probably go over magnetic fields now.”

you grinned, heart racing. “god, you’re such a loser.”

“your loser,” he said quietly.

and somehow, that was the smoothest line of all.

───

the tutoring session was going fine.

that is, until maki showed up.

you were in the library lounge, halfway through a problem on thermodynamics, when a voice interrupted.

“y/n?”

you looked up. riki maus (known as maki). same year, tall, charming, objectively hot in that annoying way that made girls forgive him for talking through labs.

“hey,” you said, blinking. “didn’t know you were on this floor.”

jake went completely still next to you, pen frozen mid-equation.

maki barely glanced at him. “i was just heading out, but i had to say hi. you doing okay with physics? i tutor sometimes too, you know.”

jake’s grip on his pen tightened.

“oh?” you asked, amused. “you tutor now?”

maki shrugged. “not officially. but i could make time. for you.”

you opened your mouth, ready to tease him back, but jake’s voice cut in first.

“she already has a tutor.”

maki blinked, like he’d just noticed him. “right. sim, yeah? you’re in physics lab.”

“yeah,” jake said, still quiet, but there was an edge now. “i’ve got it covered.”

you turned to jake, brows lifting slightly. was he… tense?

maki grinned. “no offense, man, but i’ve heard tutoring y/n is more like surviving her. you sure you can handle it?”

jake stood.

you blinked. jake stood.

he was taller than you remembered. towering over maki, still in his soft hoodie and baggy jeans, but standing like something had clicked. like a switch had flipped.

“i can handle her,” he said, voice even. “better than anyone else.”

maki raised his hands. “okay. chill, bro.”

he gave you one last glance and walked off.

you looked up at jake. he was still standing, chest rising and falling like he was trying to keep it together.

“jake?”

his eyes met yours. there was something in them you hadn’t seen before. something fierce.

“do you like him?” he asked.

you frowned. “maki? god, no.”

he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. stepped closer.

“because i don’t like seeing guys like that flirt with you.”

you tilted your head, heart starting to pick up. “jealousy doesn’t suit you, sim.”

“i know,” he said quietly. “but you do.”

and then he kissed you.

you didn’t expect it. not from him. not like this.

not with his hand cradling your cheek so gently it made your heart ache, not with the way his lips pressed to yours like he’d been waiting for this moment for weeks — months — forever.

your breath caught. he was warm. steady. his lips moved with surprising confidence, slow at first, then deeper, more certain as you kissed him back.

his other hand found your waist, pulled you in, grounded you. like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

your fingers curled in his hoodie, body leaning into his. he tilted his head just slightly and kissed you like a man who had solved the formula for gravity and decided to fall anyway.

wanting to deepen the kiss, you moved your thumb to his jaw, signaling him to open his mouth wider.

he (hopefully) got the hint and slowly but surely slotted his tongue right against yours. he wanted to memorize every part of you and figured he should start with your mouth.

it was as if your lips and tongues moved in perfect synchronization. like puzzle pieces.

when he finally pulled back, it was only enough to rest his forehead against yours.

you both stood there, catching your breath.

“…wow” you said, dazed. “what the hell, sim.”

he stared at you. blinked. once. twice. “w-was it okay? did i — do it wrong?”

silence. 

he spoke again, “that was kinda.. my first — um — my first kiss…” 

you let out a disbelieving laugh. “what do you mean that was your first kiss??? you kissed me like you’ve been rehearsing it in your dreams.”

he looked away. shy. “…maybe i have.”

you narrowed your eyes. “wait. have you?”

he winced. “that was a joke.”

it was silent for a hot minute.

“…mostly. i—i never really get close to pretty girls because i don’t— well i don’t go out. so. um. yeah…” 

you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him closer until your lips were right in front of his plush ones. “stop speaking nonsense and kiss me again, sim.” 

he didn’t hesitate. just smiled at you and slammed your lips on his. he kissed you like he was finally where he belonged.

and maybe he was.

because nerdy physics tutors?

yeah. they might know the laws of motion — but now he knew what it felt like to crash into you.

please reblog if you enjoyed this cute lil fic ! it helps a lot <3

[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250508

[64reprieve]

picture you (e.w.) ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

pairing: butch!college!loser!ellie x femme!camgirl!reader

synopsis: you need promo for your business. ellie’s tuition is due. or ellie’s a college student in her junior year scrambling to get her shit together and desperate to make ends meet with side jobs. you need pictures taken by someone who isn’t a creep from craigslist and won’t kill you. your friend knows just the person.

content: angst, amateurphotographer!ellie, loser!ellie, college!ellie, butch!ellie, brief mean!ellie at first but she softens up, camgirl!reader, femme!reader, ellie is broke and judgmental, awkward photoshoot, mentions of depression, mentions of agoraphobia, miscommunication, explicit language

word count: 4.7k

nsfw, men and minors dni

prologue ➤ chapter one ➤ chapter two ➤ chapter three ➤ chapter four ➤ tbd.

A beaten mumble drawls from you.

“I’m going to lose my job.”

The basement air is crisp from the harried sliding door of people reentering, the cold wafting in and raising your exposed skin to pebbles. Parties fall short in appeal, but you’re undeniably lonely; a skewed dichotomy granted how you spend nearly every night with an audience.

It’s hard enough to collect the mail from your doorstep, but you’d much rather hang out with Riley than die alone from holing up in your shitty, off-campus apartment.

Your isolation was a deluded salvation of choice from the start; there’s no childhood bedroom to sleep in during the holidays, no weekly phone calls home you pretend to make begrudgingly.

Winter break empties and hollows out your insipid college town into a blanket of white, undisturbed.

Self-help books have stacked themselves in your closet since Freshman year, but there was little to romanticize or heal over sitting on park benches under a single streetlight until your hands curled into the wood and buried blue beneath the snow.

Those weeks are cold, but your empty bed is freezing.

It’s unequivocally a first-world problem but you’d soon rather shake a cup on the sidewalk to make rent than return to late rides from campus to work, and then home.

Memories rouse the thick, stale scent and warm air of the bus, and your inner cheeks chewed raw from standing outside at night, bones buzzing with exhaustion.

You couldn’t go back, you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you wouldn’t, you–

Riley swirled a mint in her mouth, clicking against her teeth, "Okay. It can’t be that bad. What’s wrong with the photos you took last time?”

The ratty couch chafed the back of your bare thighs pink. Smeared eyeliner clung to your heavy lashes as you traced the rim of your sharp-scented cup, swimming with a repulsive concoction of sparkling fruit juice and gin that weighed down your insides.

“For one, those are from four months ago,” You paused to sigh, shutting your eyes in half disbelief and acceptance, “And two, they were Christmas-themed."

Your fingers pinched your ears to mimic a point, “I’m wearing elf ears in them. I can’t repost that in March, it’ll look like I’m pedaling for Santa fetishists.”

Across the cushions, Riley’s attentive gaze was a warmth that bordered sobering. It's not often you get to complain.

An amused laugh bubbled from her, “Have you tried posting about it online? Maybe like Twitter or something. Or I could do it. I know that our phones are busted, but we could probably photoshop the glare out. ”

“No,” Your head stabbed at the thought, “And I want to stay anonymous. I can’t imagine anyone who responds to that and pays attention to my content would be normal.” You sigh, “Shit, I wish Abby didn’t transfer.”

“She took your elf pictures?” Riley snickered, sitting up to hear you over the music and drunken babbles.

“It was one time. Her dad bought her a really good camera.” You argued, shooting her a look of disapproval.

Riley kissed her teeth, stretching her arms out with a faint grunt.

A short, pensive silence fell between the two of you.

Riley’s knee knocked into yours suddenly, pulling your attention, “I think I know someone.”

Who does Riley know that you don’t? Then again, you haven’t properly socialized outside your tiny circle in a couple of years.

You winced at the vision of a guy with a five o’clock shadow, greasy hair, and a camera bag hanging around their neck. Or worse, a cologne-drowned, perm-haired, red-pilled, indie boy with an abnormal vintage camera obsession.

“He’s not super weird, right?” You probed, wearing a look of uncertainty.

You worried as though it paid.

Riley leaned back on the armrest, “No, she’s friends with Dina. We’ve hung out before. You guys would get along. Want me to talk to her?”

A weight retreated from your slumped shoulders, “She has a camera and stuff? I don’t need much. Just some shots at my place and it won’t be anything crazy. Do you think she’d be like–okay with it?”

Riley nodded to your ramble, spitting her candy into your neglected cup before setting it on the floor. You’d worry about it later.

“She won’t mind, trust me." Riley insisted, waving you off, "So, is that a yes?” She mused.

“Tell her I’ll pay well.” You exhaled in relief, taking her hand.

Riley affirmed lazily, squeezing back, “She’ll do it.”

────୨ৎ────

Morning dew unfurled the lushness of vernality as worms curled beneath saturated dirt; Earth rose in the stillness.

Ellie squinted in the luster of warmth; the breeze cooling sweat before her clothes could stick. She walked beside her friend, taking space on the path with disregard and forcing passersby to walk on the damp grass.

“Who?” Ellie asked, taking out her earbuds and slipping the cord through her belt loop.

Dina looked up at Ellie as they walked to the library together, “One of Riley’s friends.” She exhaled through her nose, “I sent you her Instagram already. You would know if you ever checked your messages.”

Ellie mumbled, slipping her phone out of the pocket of her cargo pants. Her fingers tapped on the screen, eyebrows furrowed, “Okay? What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? She has two posts and one of them’s from five years ago.”

“I didn’t send it so you could gawk at her pictures–text her!” Dina groaned, adjusting her backpack as they tread uphill on the sidewalk.

“Relax.” Ellie refreshed your profile before tucking her phone away, “Riley said she asked for pictures? For an event or something?” She guessed, nearing the building.

Dina shrugged, stopping by the door before Ellie opened it, “Thanks,” Dina whispered, looking around the quiet library. “She said it’s just for social media but it’ll be at her friend’s place.”

Ellie bit her tongue, holding off her complaints. It would be pointless, she already knew she wasn’t in any position to say no.

Ellie worked over expenses for the month; a ninety-dollar textbook, course enrollment fees for the following semester, credit card bill, the brake pads of her truck still needed to be replaced, and her meal plan card only had around sixty dollars left–which bit when she was exhausting at least two to three energy drinks every day.

It wasn’t the type of money she could ask from Joel. She refused to. She couldn’t if she tried by this point. The thought alone of calling Joel sent a shiver through her body and made her palms sweat.

Ellie hadn’t grown up with much, though it wasn’t out of Joel’s cheapness and she knew that, always had.

It led to the fight on Ellie’s fifteenth birthday after he’d gifted her a Martin despite barely making the light bill that month.

Ellie had screamed until she turned red, trying to drag Joel and the guitar down the driveway and into the truck so they could return it to the shop. He refused until Ellie’s voice gave out, but learned to stick to grocery store birthday cakes from then on.

She made sure never to see another dollar from his wallet.

Ellie sighed under her breath, “Don’t tell me it’s another mixer. I swear to God.”

The two walked past the front desk, finding their usual study corner tucked away by rows of shelves. The scent of fresh carpet and paper imbued the building.

Ellie sat down, tossing her backpack between her legs and turning on her laptop while Dina set up her iPad from across the table, arranging her notebooks in a neat stack and rifling through her pen case to lay out highlighters and little sticky notes.

“Dina,” Ellie smirked, watching with amusement, “Are you prepping for surgery?” She teased, raising her eyebrows.

Dina clenched her teeth, sending her a glare, “Shut up.” She whispered harshly.

Ellie scratched the back of her neck as she aimlessly clicked around on her laptop for a few minutes before taking her phone back out. She should be using this time to study, especially with how awful her procrastination had grown since starting college.

Still, Ellie had adopted ‘I’ll start tomorrow' as a commandment.

She found your profile again looking through your tagged photos. Nothing. Ellie sighed before searching Riley’s Instagram: a plethora of posts; car selfies, blurry concert videos, photos taken on late nights out with criminally overused flash, though Ellie was culpably in some of them, until finally she came across a post of you.

Simple, sweet.

A photo in a bustling restaurant of you blowing out birthday cake candles, captioned ‘19 years today for this beauty queen’ with your account in the comments, asking her to take it down.

Your hair was down, curls cascading a little past your shoulders, with one side pinned behind your ear to show just enough of your face. Your red, manicured nails reflected the candlelight as you locked your hands, looking through your long eyelashes.

As if your smile wasn’t striking enough, you had dimples. Fucking dimples.

It seemed you two ran in the same social groups, so how had she never met or heard of you? From the looks of it and your absence of an online presence, you couldn’t be a sorority girl or anything.

She would’ve ghosted you if so.

Ellie chewed her top lip, glancing up at Dina to find the girl grossly entranced with doodling a diagram on her Ipad. Ellie cleared her throat, leaning forward, “You’ve met her?”

Dina nodded without looking up, “Who? Oh–maybe a couple of times. She’s nice.”

“Is it a baby shower or something?” Ellie asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Ellie, I don’t know. Like I said, I’ve only met her twice and Riley didn’t give much detail. She just said it’d be small.” Dina mumbled, tilting her head with a bored expression.

Ellie sat back with a short nod, clicking back to your page before finally typing a message.

hey, this is ellie. i heard you need some pictures taken.

Too short, dry, and awkward. She clenched her teeth, backspacing through the entire thing before retyping.

hi, this is ellie. i heard from riley. when do u need the pictures by?

Better, she figured.

She waited and waited, staring at her phone until Dina kicked her beneath the table. She ignored her, sitting up when a text from you loaded in.

hi! thanks for getting back to me, i really appreciate it. i just need a few pictures. if you’re still comfortable, i’d like to do it this week but next week is fine if that works better for you!

How polite.

i can make time this week. what’s ur address?

You were waiting by the phone too; her guess. You texted back in seconds.

thank you so much! i’ll send you a link to the building. i’m in apartment #28. do you prefer cash or card? and what’s your availability?

Ellie clicked the link. You lived about five minutes from campus, which was barely a drive. She could skate over instead of wasting gas if she wanted but there was also the chance of tripping on cracked cement and breaking her camera, or worse– someone witnessing her fall off her board, but it was an undeniably better gig than the day before, when Jesse paid her thirty bucks to bake a box cake and she nearly burnt down the dorm’s communal kitchen.

i’m okay with either. we can talk payment after i get there.

She rubbed her nose, biting her cheek as her thumb hovered over the keyboard before she gave in.

i’m free right now if u are. or we can work out a different time. just send me ur schedule.

Your typing bubbled in and out, before you finally replied.

I’m free! just shoot me a text or knock when you get here or if u get lost. im on the second floor.

Ellie hurriedly packed her bag, laptop thudding against the table in the quiet building. Dina glanced over, squinting at her.

“What are you doing?” Dina mouthed, setting her pen down.

Ellie shrugged, pushing her chair back in, “Something came up but I’ll be home tonight. Are you good to walk back or should I text Jesse?”

“Don’t text him. I want to enjoy my peace and quiet without you two.” Dina waved her off with a lighthearted sigh, “I’ll be fine. I’m almost finished.”

Ellie exhaled, ruffling the top of Dina’s head, “Alright. Call me if anything changes. Have fun with your nursing stuff.” She snickered.

Dina shoved her away playfully, groaning, “Just go.”

────୨ৎ────

Ellie stood outside your apartment door. She wiped the sweat beading on the back of her neck, staring down the burgundy paint before knocking.

What kind of prissy bitch had the money to afford to pay someone for Instagram pictures while simultaneously going to school and living off-campus?

It left a bitter taste in her mouth– you left a bitter taste in her mouth.

The door opened, and Ellie’s shoulders loosened at the sight; your hair was straightened unlike the photo Riley had uploaded, you wore pink gloss to match your nails, and your eyes were larger in person.

Pretty. You were so fucking pretty.

You stepped aside to let her in, fidgeting with the belt of your robe and wearing a cautious smile as the two of you exchanged hellos.

Ellie set her skateboard against the wall, and you took the time to look at her then.

Her auburn hair stopped at her neck, half tied up with an undercut and her chipped nails were painted black. She wore an aged, light blue flannel over a white wife-beater, and black cargo pants that sat on her hips with just a sliver from the band of her grey boxers and a happy trail peeking through. A heavy carabiner loaded with keys, keychains, a couple of worn hair ties, a pocket knife, and some lettered beads you couldn’t quite make out, pulled down from the left of her belt loops that jingled as she straightened up.

Her green eyes gloomed in the dimness, freckles scattered across her skin like she was kissed by the stars. A faint scar rose from the corner of her chapped, pouty lips.

She was devastatingly attractive in a ‘lover i dreamt of once and couldn’t replicate’ kind of way.

It made you feel all the more graceless about the situation.

You took a step back as she turned around, offering a smile, which she returned with one that didn’t meet her eyes.

Ellie glanced around the living room of your apartment, thumbing at the strap of her backpack.

Your place was quaint with inconsistent decorations; a fake plant here and there in corners of the room, a scratched coffee table with a stack of mail, a grey couch with a few throw blankets folded on the armrest, and a TV across the room. The curtains were drawn shut, only a lamp and the kitchen light to brighten and the walls were bare; just a dead clock above the balcony doors. Your kitchen was clean, from what she could see, aside from a pot sitting on the stove.

You pulled the curtains back, apologizing sheepishly, “Sorry. I forget how dark it is in here sometimes.”

“I have blackout curtains so I get it,” Ellie shared, setting her backpack down on the couch and taking out her tripod and camera, “How do you wanna do this? The balcony or we could go outside? It’s still light out.”

A nervous laugh bubbled from your throat.

What kind of content did she assume you made?

You flushed, shaking your head, “Oh– god, no. I’m not like that. I thought my room would be good. I also have lights if you want to use them.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, scanning you, “Are you shy?”

What was your deal?

Maybe Ellie was in a bad mood today, as she often was, but she couldn’t figure you out. You seemed nice, spoke softly, and smelled so sweet; you’d clouded her with a bubble of rose as soon as the door swung open.

She couldn’t be upset with you despite her premature animosity. And the fact you were paying.

Regardless, she just wanted to get this over with so she could go back, edit your pictures in her bed while she shared a joint with Dina, get paid, and then ignore you as if you didn’t exist because until now, you didn’t.

“Not really, no.” You mumbled, “Would you like a water?”

She scanned your being then looked off to the side, “No, thanks.”

“Right, sure. I’ll show you the way.” You hushed, walking away.

Ellie glanced down at the back of your ankles to see a pair of embroidered winking cartoon cats. Cute.

She snorted, following you.

The bedroom was noticeably more lived in; posters and tapestries lined up the white walls except for the one your bed was against, fairy lights adorned the trim of the ceilings, and your dresser with heart-shaped knobs had trinkets and makeup littered atop. A desk sat pushed in the corner with a glass-stained lamp glowing and a heavily stickered laptop with a webcam. A few ring lights were resting against a wall. Your closet was partially shut, a sweater sleeve hanging out the gap and a pink duvet swallowed your bed. A fluffy, white rug lay in the center of your bedroom, and Ellie considered how you’d managed to keep it spotless.

It all looked new. Did your parents help you? She assumed they’d picked out this apartment, and then furnished it too.

You were annoying, but she couldn’t deny how well your place suited you.

“I never asked how many you need. Will this take long?” She blurted out.

You wavered at her tone. It wasn’t like she owed you anything, and she had come out all this way just for you.

“No, not at all. Honestly, if we can get just one decent shot, I’ll be grateful.” You confessed, biting your tongue.

She set her tripod down, turning her back from you to mess with the ring lights and their placement. She wasn’t very experienced using them, but lighting wasn’t an unfamiliar concept–she hoped.

“Thanks again for helping me. I know it’s probably weird, but it would’ve been hard to find another girl, I think. I tried to do it myself but they looked– horrible.” You explained, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

Weird?

Ellie’s eyebrows knit together, glancing over her shoulder at your words.

Her eyes faltered over your presence as you shrugged off your robe. You weren’t wearing an overpriced dress underneath that you were hoping to avoid staining.

No– in fact, you weren’t wearing much at all.

You peeked at her through your lashes with uncertainty; hands smoothing the thin straps of your sheer babydoll dress and a lighter lingerie set peeked under the mesh. A pair of ruffled, bow adorned garters hugged your thighs, bare skin glowing through.

She snapped her head back, fighting the pink rushing to her ears. Pink like you, she senselessly thought.

She should’ve just asked Riley or you what this was about, instead of aimlessly berating Dina for answers earlier, but it hadn’t crossed her mind. She grimaced at her previous behavior. It wasn’t your fault that her friends played Telephone with your request.

Did she make you out to be an inconvenience when you were half-naked in front of a stranger the entire time?

Ellie cleared her throat as she swallowed a shaky breath, “Yeah, no problem.” She exhaled, licking her lips nervously. She turned with a tight-lipped smile, praying the hue of your room would drown out her skin.

Please, please, please.

But you didn’t say anything. You avoided eye contact, shifting on your duvet and fixing your hair, “Is there a way I should pose or–”

She shook her head sharply, skimming over your figure again. Her hands shook around the camera, looking through and adjusting the settings, “No. Just do whatever you like. Whatever feels natural.”

Sure, you could do that. You laughed your head off with Abby that time she helped you, and it was nothing. But Ellie wasn’t your friend or anything like her.

This didn’t feel familiar.

Ellie glanced between you and the light as she flicked through the buttons, “Tell me if it’s too much on your eyes or if you don’t like something.” She murmured.

You hummed, rubbing your arm in a soothing manner as you watched her, fixing your posture when she clicked the camera into place.

Ellie observed the photo for a second, peering up at you, “Ready?”

It was silent at first, aside from the occasional shutter of the camera. Your movements resolved into something less hollow, and Ellie softened the tension with small talk. You kept your breath even and your gaze fixed on the veins sprawling the back of her hands.

“How long have you been friends with Riley?” She rasped behind the camera as you sat on your knees, looking over your shoulder.

“About a couple of years. We were paired on the same tour our senior year– found out we both enrolled there halfway through the first semester.” You divulged, laying on your stomach and kicking your feet up, “How about you?”

“We grew up in the same neighborhood.” She emitted.

You nodded slowly, then rolled over, laying on your back and propping your knee before resting your arm beside your head. She wasn’t much of a talker, but you appreciated her fill of the silence.

Ellie walked closer, thighs brushing the edge of the bed from where she stood over you.

To her, you looked beautiful.

Ellie loved women like you. She worshiped their otherness; reveling in the act of placing her hand on a girl’s back through a large crowd, watching them get dolled up, and being the pair of arms they ran to. All of her ex-girlfriends had been complete opposites.

The sweeter they were, the deeper her admiration, and in turn– the worse the breakup.

In terms of physicality, you surpassed her type; a great inconvenience, considering how jaded she felt toward you.

You pursed your lips from the dip in your stomach, meeting her gaze briefly before staring into the lens.

She regarded your doubt, whispering, “You can look at me, it’s okay.”

Up close, Ellie smelled of faint smoke and light cologne; a fleeting thought passed of how close you’d have to be, to smell her skin. Her voice lured like a moth to light; firm yet reserved. It was low with a hint of scratchiness and your mind racked for the last time anyone spoke to you with such patience.

You returned to her as she held the camera.

Another shutter.

Ellie eyed a strand of hair between your eyes, reaching out with a soft murmur, “Do you mind if I–”

You shook your head; pulse pounding within your neck, “No.”

Ellie’s fingers brushed the tip of your nose, tucking the strand behind your ear. You felt the roughness when you blinked, pushing down a sigh.

When was the last time you’d allowed warmth to greet yours?

“Do you go full-time?” She inquired.

Your ankle twitched as her voice brought you back, just barely, and you were grateful it was out of view, “Not this semester. I’m trying to focus on other things.”

Ellie’s hand gripped your ankle absentmindedly, shifting it so your foot didn’t hang off the bed before fixing your sock. She noticed.

“Smart.” She quipped, “I should to do that, but I don’t have the patience.” Or money, she thought, the corner of her mouth twitching.

You smiled up at her, “It’s definitely frustrating, but at least I have work to pass the time.”

Ellie hummed in agreement. You worked. That was a far better reality than what she’d conjured in her head earlier for the sake of justifying her presumptions.

A qualm of guilt heavied her throat; one she swallowed down.

Ellie’s palm wavered by your legs, and you instinctively leaned in. She clasped your knees, carefully pinning them to the side, thumb brushing the back of your knee before leaving you cold, lowering to smooth the duvet beneath you. Her tongue poked between her lips.

You stared.

────୨ৎ────

The glowing stars stickered to your ceiling were beginning to peel from their points.

You twiddled your thumbs over your ribs and traced the edges with your eyes, laying flat on your bedroom floor with the occasional sigh. Your damp hair soaked into the rug beneath you; skin rising to pebbles from the box fan fixed at your lower half, and still tender from the boiling shower. Your breath synchronized with the spinning blades, hands unfolding to brush your thighs, mimicking her touch.

It was nowhere near the same.

You wanted her.

The day had unfolded in providence. You’d furiously erased every photo on your laptop that afternoon and swore that you’d delete your accounts by the next morning.

By divine timing, you received Ellie’s text an hour later.

An underlying perturbation radiated off of you the moment you found Ellie at your doorstep.

It’s not as though you were ashamed– your work paid the bills and kept your stomach full, but Ellie had felt so indifferent and intimidating upon first impression, that you immediately contemplated sending her home with full payment and a long-winded apology for the abnormalities ailing your life and thus, inconveniencing hers.

You fell into a routine then, though you slipped elsewhere, because you couldn’t recall much of what was said between you two in the window of an hour–only how it felt.

You learned Ellie had a cat back home named Daniela, and gray was her favorite color. It reminded her of rainy skies reflecting off the lake in Jackson.

Before putting the camera away, she’d draped the robe around your shoulders and gathered your hair to sit against your collarbones.

You met her in the living room, once you came to, and helped her grab her belongings, tucking two hundred dollar bills in her hand when she was halfway out the door.

“I don’t mean to be annoying, but thank you again. Is it okay if I reach out to you next time?” You expressed, holding her backpack.

You’re not.” Ellie hummed but didn’t meet your eyes as she took her bag, “And you can. I’ll give you my number when I get home to send you the pictures.”

Ellie thanked you before reminding you to lock the door.

You locked it twice, repeating her words in your head.

────୨ৎ────

Upon her return to the dorms, Ellie stepped into the shared area, exhaling at the first sight of Riley curled up on the couch with her legs tossed over Dina’s lap.

“You’re a fucking dick.” She chastised, pointing at her friend while kicking off her tattered Converse into the shoe bin.

Riley blinked in disbelief, squinting at Ellie, “What the hell did I do?”

“I met your friend today,” Ellie blurted, “I took her pictures–why didn’t you tell me?” She snapped, taking a step closer to the couch.

Dina fisted a handful of popcorn, increasing the volume of the TV. It wasn’t be the first or last time Ellie walked into a room, pissed off.

Riley sat up, furrowing her eyebrows with a clenched jaw, “Why does it matter? I mean, of all people–”

Ellie cut her off, insisting, “Because I felt stupid! A warning would’ve been nice, you know?”

“A warning?” Riley repeated, quirking an eyebrow, “You wanted a warning for her?” She deadpanned.

“Whatever–” She gritted, stomping to her bedroom door, “Give me a heads up next time. I almost made an ass out of myself. ”

The door slammed shut beneath her foot, enclosing her in the darkness of her cramped bedroom.

Ellie tossed her skateboard down, watching it roll to the wall with a light thud. She ran her palms down her face, puffing air from her cheeks before falling over on the bed.

She’d only met you today. You were likely straight. These pictures were probably meant for your boyfriend–where were her thoughts heading?

Her arm extended to smack the bedside lamp, filling the space of her nightstand. She closed her eyes in exhaustion, groaning at flooding visions of you; how pliant and perfect you’d been when she moved you into another pose, how your dimples deepened at her poor jokes.

Your frame stamped her inner eyelids with vexation, a multitude of strained curses misfiring as she hooked a finger in the collar of her flannel, tugging it from her neck.

Her shirt smelled like you.

“Fuck.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ hi, chapter one as promised! this is more so introductory. im in the process of editing chapter two but there's a lot of incoming smut for sure. shoutout to my mutuals who passionately indulged this concept. i did it all for you <3

please reblog or comment if you’re interested in being added to the series’ taglist!

thank you!

taglist: @sweeterthing @orphicsun @crystaksack @honeylovee @elliesngirl @sewithinsouls @corpsebride25 @sulliefimmie @vahnilla @elliesangel444 @pussyeatercunt @starryrae @snuffphiliaa @stardropsblog @morticeras @spiidergwenn @ruevu @ellabssweetheart @rbnvrnxoxo @starrdelight @violetszn @nut-button-baby @thalchmy @ferxanda @crucifiedfem @blossom-teablog @eclipcee8 @onlyasp3nn @fortunatelyfurrypaper @trueellivingx @madsxh1022 @artemisdreamfairie

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or how reader made a friend in the most unconventional way.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another,, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ NOW A SERIES! i hope you guys like this! i'm considering making this into a series; if i do, i think i'd do it the same way this fic is, aka some narration but mostly 'chatting' between rafe and reader. anyway, let me know if you want it to continue!! i've been feeling down for a few weeks now, so something simple and fun like this was a good way to get back into the flow of writing.

i thought about making this a smau, but doing the chats like this feels more authentic to the 2000s chatroom experience y’know

you were sitting on your bed, your laptop open on a website called KildareUChats, a website that was apparently meant for the students of your university to be able to anonymously chat with other students, your friend having told you to give it a try, knowing that it’d be difficult for you to do in person.

you didn't really see the point of it; although your social circle was in no way huge, you were happy enough with it, really. never having been great with new people, you'd made three friends on your freshman year of college and simply stuck to them. it didn't help that whenever you tried to talk to someone new, it felt like someone was choking you.

but this was online. the person on the other side would never know who you are, and you'd never have to actually be face-to-face with them. your cursor moved to hover over the 'REGISTER' button, and you filled the page out with your basic information, name, school email, birth date... but when the website asked for a username, you couldn't help but purse your lips as you looked around your dorm room, from the fairy lights you'd hung up on walls that now glowed in a yellowish hue, to the several books stacked on the floor, to the dead roses on your desk...

but when your eyes landed on your nightstand, you spotted a book of poems by edgar allan poe, and your lips quirked up into a small smile. after you typed the name 'AnnabelLee' into the username field, a green check mark appeared next to it to signify it was available.

after setting a password, you were redirected to a page that said 'WELCOME TO KILDAREUCHATS AnnabelLee! CLICK HERE IF YOU WISH TO CONNECT WITH A RANDOM STRANGER!'. you clicked the button, your cursor turning into a circle for a moment as it loaded, before you were redirected to a chatroom with a pop-up.

KILDAREUCHATS IS CONNECTING YOU TO A STRANGER...

KILDAREUCHATS HAS CONNECTED YOU! REMEMBER TO TREAT OTHERS THE WAY YOU WANT TO BE TREATED <3 SAY HI!

you stared at your computer screen, biting into your lower lip. you had no idea what you were supposed to say; outside of the people you already knew, you were helpless when talking to people, the words always getting stuck in your throat, or vanishing from your mind. angel's white fur blended in with your white sheets as your hand moved to absentmindedly stroke her, the little cat purring in her sleep. but before your hand could dart out to type something on your laptop, a message appeared on the screen.

STRANGER: heyy

taking in a deep breath, you shook your head, as if shaking all doubts and worries out of it. the site was anonymous; that was the whole point. and your therapist told you, that for your social anxiety to get better, you should try go socialize. mingle. you took the bottle of cheap white wine you'd snuck into your dorm, taking a large swig straight out of the bottle before setting it back down, your hands flying to your keyboard.

YOU: hi :)

STRANGER: wsp?

YOU: ...wasp?

STRANGER: lmao no... what's up?

YOU: sorry, i'm not good with that kind of lingo haha. YOU: nothing much. i'm hanging out with my cat.

STRANGER: damn, do you have an off-campus apartment or something?

YOU: nope :) YOU: don't tell my ra.

STRANGER: shit you have a CAT in your dorm?

YOU: if you tell on me, i'm gonna have to hunt you down and kill you.

STRANGER: lucky for you this is anonymous STRANGER: and i'm not a snitch lmao STRANGER: so, what are you doing on this thing at 12am on a friday night? no hot parties?

YOU: honestly, i think i'd rather put a noose around my neck than go to a party. YOU: i'm just in my room drinking wine. decided to try this site after my friend suggested it. YOU: what about you?

STRANGER: damn, kinky STRANGER: i do have a 'hot party' to go to but i also have an essay due in nine hours and the prof already hates my ass

YOU: so you decided to not write your essay and instead procrastinate by chatting with some random stranger?

STRANGER: exactly! you get it STRANGER: if i even have my laptop in front of me, i'm counting that as me writing my essay

YOU: what's it about?

STRANGER: what kind of a role religion has when it comes to politics and shit

YOU: and let me guess, that's not a topic you enjoy studying in your free time?

STRANGER: you know me so well already

YOU: if it helps, i'm also studying. or, procrastinating studying. YOU: i have a chemistry exam on monday :(

STRANGER: ...and you're studying for it on a friday already? STRANGER: i just read for exams a few minutes before they start STRANGER: compared to me you're like a genius

YOU: eyeroll. YOU: and that's why you have trouble writing an essay! YOU: you're probably missing out on a keg stand at your 'hot party'.

STRANGER: i can't believe you're making fun of the art of the stand

YOU: you'll live.

STRANGER: how do you know? maybe i'm the god of the kegstand and every time a human loses faith in me, i grow weaker

YOU: are you? YOU: oh sacred frat god? YOU: shall i make an offering for you at your altar? would that appease your distaste towards me?

STRANGER: you shall

YOU: okay, how about these for an offering: YOU: a white claw, a buzz ball, a red solo cup with a strange mixture of different kinds of alcohols, and a vape pen?

STRANGER: those appease me much, mere mortal STRANGER: also mango-flavored juul pods

YOU: you're so weird.

STRANGER: says the person who's hanging with her cat on a friday night

YOU: how do you figure i'm a her?

STRANGER: oh please STRANGER: no man would disrespect the fine art of the keg stand

YOU: got me there, frat boy.

STRANGER: that's very presumptuous STRANGER: i could just be a tomboy

YOU: please. YOU: if you're a girl then i'm sasquatch.

STRANGER: don't worry, i don't mind a little body hair

YOU: i hate you.

glancing at the clock on your wall, you'd realized that thirty minutes had already gone by. you let out a small sigh, rubbing your eyes.

YOU: i should get going. i can't keep procrastinating.

STRANGER: already?

YOU: what, are you gonna miss me or something?

STRANGER: hey, if i get a pic of bigfoot i'm gonna be making millions, i just have capitalistic tendencies

YOU: fair point.

STRANGER: you should add me as a friend

YOU: you can do that??? i thought this was an anonymous chat.

STRANGER: yeah you can lmao why else would you need to set a username STRANGER: i'll just do it

and soon enough, a pop-up appeared on your screen, with the text 'STRANGER HAS REQUESTED TO ADD YOU AS FRIEND.' along with the buttons 'ACCEPT' and 'DENY'.

you pursed your lips, your finger lingering over the touchpad, first dragging it over the button reading 'DENY', before you let out a sigh, taking a large swig from the bottle of wine, moving the cursor to 'ACCEPT' and pressing it before you could regret it.

the pop-up was now replaced with another one, reading 'CONGRATS AnnabelLee YOU ARE NOW FRIENDS WITH MalachiConstant' and when you read the stranger's name, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. you clicked the red 'x' that closed the pop-up, and the word STRANGER in your chat logs was now replaced by MalachiConstant.

YOU: really? vonnegut?

MalachiConstant: what? i don't seem like the type to read?

YOU: just surprising!

MalachiConstant: says the girl with the hard-on for poe MalachiConstant: which isn't surprising at all

YOU: har har. YOU: goodnight, weird vonnegut frat boy.

MalachiConstant: goodnight, weird poe girl

YOU HAVE LOGGED OUT OF KILDAREUCHATS.

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n: sorry guys…this will be the last request i accept for a baby/toddler/child (agewise) reader!! it’s been added to the rules but do not fear anon!! this one goes out to you 💕💕

requested by anonymous

Tony only left for five minutes to take a shower, and in all those five minutes, you got loose.

“What are you talking about, JARVIS? Y/N’s two, they couldn’t have opened the door! You let them out?” Tony yelled, running through the halls with wet feet and shampoo in his hair.

“No, sir, they seem to have figured out a way to open it themselves.” JARVIS replied. “Please be careful, sir. You may slip.” He added, but Tony was only focused on wrangling you. “Y/N should be in the kitchen now.” And as Tony turned the corner, he found you with your toy wagon full of building blocks, a stack of “stairs” you’d created with them, and your head in the fridge with all sorts of food on the ground.

“Strawberries?” Tony asked you, in awe of your invention—not original by any means, but impressive for a two year old.

“Stwahbewwy?” You replied in an innocuous baby accent and your dad put you safely on the floor, reaching into the drawer that contained your favorite treat. “Tank you.” You grabbed your fruits and wandered over to the couch.

“If that wasn’t the proof you needed to know y/n’s yours, I don’t know what is.” JARVIS commented, beginning to pull the video feed from your adventure and adding it to the “Baby Book” file in Tony’s experiment collection.

“You think I ever doubted it? Y/N’s got my perfect facial hair, duh.”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[oaksgrove]

The Neighbour Next Door

pairing: Neighbour!Simon x Reader

synopsis: Simon wasn’t used to having neighbors. He was used to silence, to keeping to himself, to a life where people came and went without getting too close. Then you moved in next door—bright, determined, and a little chaotic. And somehow, without him realizing, you became a part of his routine. A part of his life.

warnings: Fluff, Simon being awkward but soft, single parent character (not Reader), a bit of humor

word count: 1507

Simon wasn’t used to having neighbors.

The flat next to Simon’s had been vacant for months, Its silence was a comforting reminder that he could come and go as he pleased, an unassuming space that matched his preference for anonymity.  But all that changed the day he returned from deployment, battered but intact.

Simon stepped into the familiar confines of his apartment, his shoulders heavy with the strain of another mission. His duffel bag hit the floor with a dull thud, and he glanced toward the window. That’s when he saw you.

You were outside, unloading boxes from the trunk of a beat-up car. Arms stacked high with mismatched bags, you struggled to balance them, wobbling slightly on the icy pavement. You laughed at yourself when one bag nearly toppled, the sound light and genuine.

For a moment, Simon just watched, his expression unreadable behind his balaclava. You were a stark contrast to the quiet he’d grown used to—bright, determined, and just a little chaotic.

He didn’t think much of it at first. Neighbors came and went. He’d nod in passing, keep to himself, and life would carry on.

But two nights later, his routine was interrupted.

The knock at his door startled Simon out of his thoughts. He’d been cleaning his gear at the kitchen table, the rhythmic motion grounding him after weeks of chaos in the field. No one ever knocked on his door.

He considered ignoring it. Whoever it was would leave eventually. But then the knock came again, soft but insistent.

Curiosity won out. Simon stood, the floorboards creaking under his boots, and approached the door. He opened it just enough to see who was there.

You stood on the other side, clutching a plate covered in foil. Your smile was nervous but kind, your breath visible in the cold air.

“Hi,” you greeted, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry to bother you. I’m your new neighbor. I, uh… I made too much dinner and thought you might want some?”

Simon blinked, his mind blanking for a moment. It wasn’t often people spoke to him, let alone offered him food. His instinct was to refuse, to keep things simple. But the scent hit him—chicken, rice, and spices that made his stomach grumble despite himself.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he finally said, his voice low and rough.

“I know,” you replied, your smile widening a fraction. “But I wanted to. I live just next door if you ever need anything.”

Simon hesitated, then reached out and took the plate. His gloved hand brushed yours briefly, and you didn’t flinch. “Thanks,” he said simply.

“No problem!” you chirped, rocking back on your heels. “Enjoy!”

He watched you retreat to your flat, the door closing softly behind you. Simon stood there for a moment longer, staring at the plate in his hands.

It became a routine after that. Every few days, you’d knock on his door with leftovers or baked goods, always with that same bright smile. At first, Simon thought it was some sort of neighborly obligation, but you didn’t seem like you were forcing it. If anything, you seemed genuinely happy to share, Simon wasn’t sure why you bothered—he was hardly welcoming, often answering the door with minimal conversation, his face hidden behind his mask.

But you didn’t seem to mind.

One afternoon, Simon found you struggling at the bottom of the stairs, your arms laden with grocery bags that were clearly too heavy for one trip.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

You jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. “Oh my God,” you said, laughing nervously. “You scared me.”

Simon approached, already taking two of the heavier bags from your grasp. “Need help?”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You don’t have to—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly, already heading up the stairs.

You followed, trying to keep up. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting that. You’re usually so…”

“Quiet?” he offered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips beneath the mask.

“Yeah,” you said with a sheepish laugh. “But apparently, you’re also helpful.”

When he reached your door, Simon set the bags down and turned to leave.

“Wait,” you called after him. He paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Come by for dinner tonight? As a thank you?”

He hesitated. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“But I want to,” you insisted.

Simon studied you for a moment, then nodded once. “Alright.”

Something in your tone made him pause. He nodded once, then disappeared into his flat.

Dinner became a regular occurrence after that. At first, Simon would linger awkwardly in your kitchen, responding to your chatter with short, gruff answers. But over time, he softened, his quiet presence becoming a fixture in your home. He found himself at your door more often than he’d like to admit. Whether it was helping you carry groceries, fixing a squeaky cabinet, or just sharing the meals you so kindly prepared, he became a quiet but constant presence in your life. You welcomed him in without question, even when he remained stoic and distant. 

He learned about your brother, a single dad with two young kids you adored. He heard about your struggles with work, your favorite movies, and the little things that made you happy. And you, in turn, learned about Simon—his dry humor, his sharp intelligence, and the way he always seemed to be looking out for you.

One night, you were in the middle of setting the table when the knock on the door came.

Before you could react—

"I’ll get it!" James, your six-year-old nephew, called.

Your stomach dropped.

"James, wait—!"

Too late. You barely had time to put down the plates before you saw the door swing open, revealing Simon’s imposing frame. Clad in his usual dark hoodie and cargo pants, hands tucked in his pockets, he looked every bit the intimidating stranger to a child who had no idea who he was.

James, fearless as ever, squinted up at him. "Who’s the big guy?" he asked, pointing a small finger.

James barely had time to finish his question before you turned to him with a stern look.

"That’s my neighbor, Simon," you said firmly, stepping forward. "And what did I tell you about answering the door alone?"

The little boy shrank slightly under your gaze, toeing the floor guiltily. "Not to do it," he mumbled.

"And did you listen?"

"No…"

"What if it wasn't Simon at the door? What if it was a stranger?"

James pouted, glancing at Simon, who still stood silently in the doorway, hands in his pockets. "But he looks nice."

Simon huffed a quiet laugh at that, shaking his head.

"That’s not the point, bub," you sighed, softening just a little. "You have to be careful, okay?"

"Okay… sorry."

"Good," you said, ruffling his hair before looking up at your older brother, who had been silently observing the exchange.

Marianne, oblivious to the entire exchange, made a soft gurgling noise, shifting against your shoulder. Simon’s eyes flickered to her, something unreadable passing through them.

"And this," you continued, bouncing her slightly, "is Marianne. She drools a lot but has the best laugh in the world."

"Ah, so she takes after you then?" Peter teased.

You shot him a glare before turning back to Simon, who, to your surprise, was still watching the baby with quiet curiosity.

"Simon, this is my brother, Peter. Peter, my neighbor, Simon."

Peter stepped forward, offering a handshake. "Nice to meet you, mate. Thanks for not being an actual serial killer at the door."

Simon gave a small, amused nod and took his hand, his grip firm. "Glad to hear I don’t give off that vibe."

"Mmm, jury’s still out," Peter joked, eyeing Simon up and down before smirking. "So, you're the one who's been eating my sister’s cooking all the time?"

You groaned. "Peter."

Simon, to your surprise, didn’t shy away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "Good food. Wouldn’t turn it down."

"That’s because she spoils everyone," Peter said, crossing his arms. "Bet you get your meals hand-delivered too."

"Sometimes," Simon admitted, glancing at you.

Peter chuckled. "She’s been like this since we were kids. Takes care of everyone but herself."

Simon’s gaze flickered to you. Yeah, he thought. I noticed. 

You rolled your eyes. "I am standing right here, you know."

Peter ignored you, watching Simon closely. "So, do you just lurk around or are you actually sticking around for dinner?"

Simon hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Sticking around."

Peter grinned. "Good. You can help set the table."

James gasped dramatically. "Are you gonna be my new uncle?"

Simon choked. Peter outright laughed.

You buried your face in your hands. "James, oh my God—"

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash @pythonmoth @kittygonap @rainyjellybear

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which paige finds herself a pen pal

paige was bored.

she would wake up, go to class, go to physical therapy, sleep and repeat. the same thing for the last three months since her surgery. her friends try to get her out her dorm to hang out but what she could do was very limited.

she was so bored out of her mind that she decided to go to the library. what business did paige bueckers have at the library?

the library was quieter than she thought. the steady hum of whispered conversations replaced by the soft rustling of pages and the occasional click of a keyboard. something about the peaceful atmosphere had drawn her in today. maybe it was the need to escape the noise of rehab, the constant pressure of expectations, or maybe it was just curiosity.

she wandered around, running her fingers along the spines of books she’d probably never read, until a small cork board by the front desk had caught her eye. a handwritten sign pinned to the board read:

“looking for a pen pal? leave a note and find a friend.”

below it, a collection of envelopes peaked out of a small wooden box labeled take one, leave one. paige hesitated, then smirked to herself. when was the last time she wrote an actual handwritten letter? she pulled out a blank sheet from the stack beside the box and jotted down a message.

hey stranger,

i’m not usually one for writing letters but i wanted to try something new. i guess i could use a distraction from everything going on around me. if you’re up for it, write me back. no pressure, but i promise i’m way cooler than i sound.

-p

she folded the letter and placed it in an envelope, dropping it into the box before heading out. she wasn’t expecting anything to come from it, but a small part of her was curious.

a week had passed before paige returned to the library. she had almost forgotten about the pen pal thing — rehab keeping her busy and hadn’t exactly been in the mood to write any more letters.

but when she glanced at the wooden box, her heart skipped a few beats.

there was an envelope.

a simple ‘p’ written in the front.

she snatched it up and tore it right then and there.

hey p,

i don’t know how cool you actually are but i’ll take your word for it. i like the idea of this—old school communication, no pressure, no expectations. so tell me, what’s got you looking for a distraction?

-y/n

paige grinned. this was already more interesting than she expected.

the letters became part of paige’s routine. every few days, she would go to the library, pick up a letter and find a private corner to read it, writing a reply after and leaving it in the box. 

you talked about everything.

paige opened up more. she told you about basketball, about the way it felt to be sidelined, the frustration of having to watch from the bench when she wanted nothing more than to out there on the court with her team. she didn’t tell many people how hard it was mentally, but with you, it felt easy.

you, in return, told her about your world—your love for writing, the way you could get lost in a book for hours, the struggle of balancing school and life. you told her about the places you wanted to travel to, the way you dream of seeing the world beyond the campus.

she learned little details about you—the way you can’t start your morning without a coffee and a book, the fact that you hated the sound of metal scraping against plates. you told her that you loved the rain as long as you didn’t have to be in it, how you always wrote in blue ink instead of black because it felt too formal.

paige found herself smiling whenever she read your letters, scribbling down responses before writing out a proper reply. 

she thought about asking to meet, but there was something about the mystery of it all, the anonymity, that made it special. there was also no doubt in her mind that you knew who she was now, but she still didn’t know who you were. she was curious of course, but she was patient.

so she let it be.

for now.

one night, paige sat in her dorm room mc staring at a blank sheet of paper.

her rehab was nearly complete. after months of grueling physical therapyc she was finally cleared to play. her first game back was in a week and the thought both excited and terrified her.

she had come back from injuries before. but this? this was different. this was her acl. the very thing that had taken her away from the game she loved for forever.

she sighed, running a hand through her hair before finally pressing pen to paper.

y/n,

my first game back is this friday. it’s been a long time coming, i don’t know if you’d want to, but i would love to have you there. i want to finally meet the girl who’s got me to become a regular at the library

-p

she folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope and taped it on a mailer. she dropped it off at the library the next morning.

now all she could do is wait.

the arena was packed. the energy was electric, the kind that made the hairs on paige’s arms stand up. this was a highly anticipated game, the return of paige bueckers. she had spent months dreaming of this moment—stepping back into the court, feeling the ball in her hands, hearing the roar of the crowd.

but as she jogged for warm-ups, her eyes kept glancing towards the crowd. eyes scanning for something else.

for someone else.

she didn’t know how you looked, but she felt that if she saw you, she would know it was you.

she didn’t see you.

she played the game she knew and love, like she hadn’t been away for a year, putting on a stellar performance.

uconn had beat the other team, adrenaline was still high. she looks out towards the crowd, a wide smile on her face, hoping to see you.

but no luck.

she just about gives up and walks towards the locker room when she sees someone.

you were standing near the tunnel, slightly out of place, holding a small envelope in your hands. you were wearing a jersey. her jersey that she had gifted you.

paige’s heart did something weird—like a little flip in her chest. she didn’t even think. she ran over, pulling up short in front of you, slightly breathless.

“is it you?” she asked in a breathy tone, like she couldn’t believe you were in front of her.

“it’s me.” you gave her a shy smile, intimidated under her gaze.

“and you’re wearing the jersey i got you.” paige beamed at the sight.

“of course i am.”

“you’re so beautiful.” 

“oh, thank you.” paige froze, not realizing she said that out loud, heat crawling up her neck.

“uhm, anyway. i know this is the first time we’ve ever met, but we’ve grown so close the past couple of months and i hope i don’t ruin that by asking you this…” you can tell she was nervous, it was cute. “would you allow me to take you on a date?”

your face showed a surprised expression, not expecting that to be the question. paige started doubting herself when you didn’t answer right away but…

“i’d love to.”

paige smiled widely, pulling you into an embrace. she was glad to have went to the library that day because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have met you.

[juyeoz]

SOFT SPOT — HAN TAESAN

SYNOPSIS — To the eyes around you all, you and Taesan are enemies. You hate anything to do with each other and recoil at the mention of your names. However, behind closed doors, you two are completely different — inseparable. Clearly, Taesan and you will go to an extent to keep your relationship private.

PAIRING — fake-enemy-but-boyfriend!taesan x gn!reader

CONTAINS — kissing, corny love birds Likee i kinda recoiled when writing some lines, and literally just fluff.

WORDCOUNT — 1007 words

NOTE — soph sent that taesan pic and our lives were changed……..and this fic was born duhhh!!!!

“Absolutely not!” You exclaim and spin around in your chair after hearing a few words leave your superior's mouth.

Mr. Lee looks taken aback by your response. Yes, everyone knows about the ongoing battle between both Taesan and you, but your reactions to each other’s names being mentioned never fails to catch them all off guard. 

In the office, you and Taesan never get along. It's been this way since the beginning of your careers. 

Yes, you two have taken a liking to one another since you met, but you couldn’t let anyone else at work know about it, so you played it off as enemies. 

Well, you two at least pretended to want to do nothing with each other to make things less obvious. 

The “enemies” title was given by your coworkers.

Therefore, working with each other is never an option. You “can’t” even stand being in the same room as him, making working in the office a “terrible” experience.

“I won’t work with him.”

“Please, the two of you are the only free ones. We need this proposal by tonight.” Mr. Lee explains with a pleading gaze.

“Then I’ll work on it alone. I don’t need his help.” You say while collecting your scattered papers on the surface of your desk.

“That won’t do.” 

“And why is that?” 

You stack your papers into a pile and turn off your computer in a swift motion as Mr. Lee sighs from behind you.

“It’s too much for one person to handle. With his help, you’ll surely get it done.” He crosses his arms over his chest as you snicker.

Is he looking down on you right now?

“Whatever that means,” you begin and stand up from your seat, with your papers in hand. 

“I’ll work overtime. It can’t be that hard.”

Although it has only been three hours since you uttered those words, you surely are regretting them now.

There you sit, staring at a blank document showcased on your monitor. No matter how long you sit in silence, nothing is coming to your mind. 

Brain fog is after you, and clearly, it doesn't need to try so hard to catch up.

The longer you waited for something, a starting sentence, words — even an overall idea to come to your mind, the more and more workers left. The sun is starting to set, casting an orangey light on your belongings.

In distress, your hands pull at your strands as you let out a groan of frustration. 

You should have listened to what Mr. Lee suggested, but you couldn’t let your relationship become known.

Everyone is used to both you and Taesan rejecting any projects that have to do with one another, so, if you switched up, would they have questioned it?

It sucks, really. You want to spend time with your boyfriend at work, but there are too many eyes on the two of you. To be honest, you can’t even recall why you chose to keep your relationship a secret. It could be because of the awkward tension that would come if you two ever break up and everyone knew about it.

That is a possibility.

The only times you two interact romantically are in the break room when you coincidentally both end up there at the same time. The teasing glances that make your eyes lock with one another and break out into a smile. Or when he secretly leaves anonymous sticky notes on your desk belongings.

Other than that, there is nothing. However, despite that, things will be seen eventually. 

“What’s worrying your pretty mind, love?” A voice approaches you from behind, instantly calming your tense figure due to the familiar warming tone. 

It’s Taesan — your loving boyfriend and so-called workplace enemy.

“A proposal.” You inform as Taesan’s hands slide down from your shoulders and his chin rests on your head.

“Is it the one Mr. Lee suggested we do together?” He asks and you hum in response.

“Why’d you say no? I would be more than glad to help you.” 

“It’ll draw too much attention if I agree, no?” Your head begins to turn to look his way, causing him to rise from his resting position. He looks down at you and smiles while you look up at him.

“That’s too bad.” Taesan begins, then leans down to give you a short and sweet kiss on the lips, which you happily return. 

“If it didn’t, then I could’ve done that many times during work hours instead of after hours.” He teases while your face becomes slightly flushed.

“Why don’t I just help you now? I mean, there’s nobody around…” The boy suggests as your hands lower into your lap.

“Would you actually?” 

“Of course. Here, let’s have a food break first. You seem too overwhelmed by everything to even continue your supposed brainstorming process.” 

You roll your eyes at what he truly meant — your flustered expression — and rise up from your seat for him to lead the way to the break room. 

“A coffee will do?” Taesan questions and you nod. 

“That and your presence, of course.” You reply, giving him another kiss on the cheek once you reach his side.

“Hey.” He stammers out because of the sudden warmth on his cheek. Now, it’s his turn to be left a blushing mess.

“Only I can catch you off guard with a kiss.” He says and you laugh while interlocking your hand with his. 

Out of nowhere, his thumb rubs against the skin of your hand — a reflex he has whenever he intertwines your fingers with his own.

You hum at his words, pondering on his new sudden rule.

“Doesn’t that seem unfair?” Your brow raises as you say your question and look over at the boy interrogatively. Taesan looks back at you, holding eye contact with no signs of breaking it and smiles.

“Not at all.” Taesan replies to your question.

Best believe, after his words, you earned yourself another kiss on the lips for him to prove whatever point he had.

© JUYEOZ

BOYNEXTDOOR PERM TAGLIST — @ancnymcnzjy @miumura @ilovedallywinston @i03jae @borednia @s0shroe @leehanwish @sol3chu @en-dream @ribbeoms @itsactuallylina @macapunoz @hollxe1 @r1kification @mensisim @mydearyeseo @sunghxxnie @taesanfav @wonzzziezzzz @ijustwannareadstuff20 @tanghuyuj @ranjupotato @mimimimiaa @ningizuo @hyunjinslongasslegs

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level.

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, oral sex (both ways!!), edging?, masturbation (F), praise kink, cursing, light stalking, breaking in, harassing texts/calls, and lots of angst.

Word Count: 4.3

A/Ns: Hi babes! This was going to be a short story but she came out kinda long, so I'm going to make it a 2 parter. Don't judge me 🙈 I looove masked men. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. This is also my first time getting more explicit with smut so don't judge me too harshly! xoxo

Snuggled up to Bucky under a comfy blanket with a bowl of extra buttery and salty popcorn, lights turned all the way down, you finally convinced him to watch the movie Scream. While you’ve seen it many times before and are aware of all the jump scares, you still cling onto him a little extra tight in preparation while he is completely unphased. About halfway through the movie, you hear Bucky snort.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him slightly. His face is illuminated by the glow of the tv.

“Something you want to tell me, Doll?” One side of his mouth is tugged up in amusement.

“Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, you sit up to look at him.

He just shakes his head, grinning, “I’m talking about how every time a masked man comes on that screen,” he points to the tv, “you press those pretty little thighs of yours together.”

Your cheeks instantly flush, “You noticed that?”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to my girl.” Bucky leans back more, resting his arm on top of the couch still grinning, “Tell me about it.” His eyes narrow slightly, something a bit darker lurking, intrigued by this knowledge.

“I don’t know… it’s just like,” you brush your hair behind your ears suddenly feeling embarrassed, “kind of like a kink? A fantasy maybe? There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it I guess?”

By the time you’re done explaining, your hands unknowingly gripped and crossed your chest. Blinking rapidly, you let go and focus back on Bucky who is just watching you intensely.

He nods and purses his lips lightly, “Maybe if I keep watching this movie, I’ll want a masked man for myself,” He teases.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” You grab a fistful of popcorn and throw it at him, sending you both into a laughing frenzy.

"You're cleaning that up, not me." Bucky laughs.

Him and his messes.

He scoops you in close to his body to finish the movie, and later that night he showed you that no masked man from a movie could ever compare to him.

Three weeks later.

While trying to grab your phone and keys out of your bag, you accidentally drop the stack of mail you had just picked up from the landlord’s office on the doormat.

“Shit!” You mutter to yourself. Bending down to pick it up, something catches your eye. Your apartment door is cracked open.

You stand up, discarding the mail and push open the door, “Hello?” You call out, “Bucky?” There’s no response.

Taking a few steps in, nothing looks out of place or any evidence that someone seems to have broken in. You start going through each room, keeping your phone firmly in your hand just in case. But there’s nothing. Walking out of the bedroom you decide you’re going to call Bucky to see how far away he is since he was on his way over, when you find him standing in the kitchen.

“OH! Fuck me-” You jump at the sight of him and grab your chest.

“Hey, Doll!” Bucky says, like the perfect golden retriever boyfriend that he is.

“Did you just get here?” You ask, your heart still pounding.

“Yeah, why?” he asks curiously, absentmindedly grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl off the kitchen counter and taking a bite.

“Um, yeah me too. It’s just-”

“Just… what?” He takes another bite.

“It’s just that... my door was open when I got here?”

“What?” Bucky’s face instantly changes, his eyes wide and anxious, “Go wait in the hallway until I look around.”

“I already did that-”

“Please?” He pleads as he throws out his barely eaten apple, already coaxing you towards the door.

Crossing your arms, you go and wait in the hallway while he looks around. After a few minutes he brings you back in.

“Everything looks to be fine, but I’m going to stay the night just in case.” You breathe a sigh of relief at Bucky’s words.

“Maybe maintenance came in and forgot to lock back up. I was having all those issues with my heater a few months ago,” You try justifying.

“Yeah maybe,” he says, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

About a week later is when the phone calls started.

Initially it was just 1 or 2 a day from a restricted number that you never picked up, assuming it was some kind of solicitation about your car’s extended warranty. But no voicemail was ever left.

As a few weeks went by though, it started to feel like borderline harassment. The number of phone calls jumped to an average of twenty times a day.

Sitting at your work desk your phone continued to violently vibrate, the words Unknown Caller lit up on the screen. You ran your hands through your hair, letting them linger on your scalp, starting to feel stressed every time your phone rang.

"Hey babes!" Hailee, your coworker/bff storms unannounced into your office, "You ready to grab some lu- oh my god. Are they calling you right now?" Obviously aware of the situation, she scurries around your desk in her too high heels and answers your phone. Clearing her throat, "Hi, thank you for calling Tammy's Whorehouse where we suck and fuck. How can I help you?" She taps an inpatient finger on her hip, waiting for a response and then the line goes dead.

Your hands fall down into your lap with an exacerbated breath, "No one ever answers."

"Have you tried tracking the number?" She puts the phone down and sits on top of your desk.

"I've tried calling my cell service, they can't do anything about it. If it keeps up, I just might change my number." You shake your head, "This is going to sound so dumb, but it has me so distracted. Apparently, I've been forgetting to charge my phone at night too? I swear I put it on the charger but then it dies in the night and that's why I've been late to work a few times."

Hailee tilts her head to the side, giving a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, girl. Hey!" She tries perking up, "Why don't we go get lunch and iced coffees? My treat?!" Her bright smile and shimmying shoulders get you to crack a smile. Jumping off your desk she claps her hands, "Yay!"

Suddenly there's a knock at your office door. Both of you stop the mini-iced coffee celebration and snap your attention to the nervous, uniformed teenager standing in the doorway.

"Delivery." he says shyly, looking between the two of you.

Hailee raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking you up and down, "Well, it wasn't delivered to my office."

You roll your eyes as you get up, smoothing your skirt down. Walking up to the boy, he quickly hands you a rather large bouquet of flowers. The intoxicating floral aroma hits you almost immediately, you cannot help but be astounded by the arrangement. Each individual flower is rather large, some darker than others; Ombres of red and burgundy into black.

"They're beautiful," You admire, inhaling deeply. "I don't think I've ever seen these before. Do you know what kind of flowers they are?" You ask the teen curiously.

"Black dahlia's," he recalled, and your stomach felt like it dropped with the mention of the name. "I don't think we've ever gotten a request for those at my family's shop before. That's the only reason I remember," he shrugged.

"Does Bucky have a brother? Because like, are you kidding me right now?" You glanced at Hailee who was making an over-the-top pouty face.

Asking the teen if he had CashApp to tip him, you quickly ushered him off. Searching through the flowers to see if there was a card or any indication that they were in fact from Bucky, but there wasn't.

That night, Bucky came over for dinner. He brought take out from a local Greek place that he really liked, but you were distracted. Just pushing the food around on your plate.

"You okay, doll?" His forehead puckered slightly in question.

"Yeah, um," You shake your head to try and focus, "Hey, thanks for the flowers today. That was super sweet and unexpected," considering you've been kinda stressed.

"Flowers? What flowers?" Bucky's posture stiffens.

"I got flowers delivered to me at work today, I just assumed it... was from you? Maybe it was a mistake then." There were suddenly mixed emotions being stirred around in a frenzy. If Bucky wasn't the one who sent the flowers, then who did? You tried saying they were dropped in your office by accident, but it just didn't feel right. It felt intentional.

"Well, honey, I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me." Bucky stands up from the kitchen table, grabbing his dinner plate. "Are you done?" He asks gesturing to your plate. You nod and he takes it as well, "But it's something I should do, and I'll be more conscious of it. I'm sorry,"

"No, Buck I wasn't-"

His lips press to the top of your head, "No, you're right. If anyone should be doing it, it should be me. Let me take the garbage out for you and we'll have the night to ourselves, yeah? Anything you want."

"Anything?" You repeat, in singsong with a grin.

He shakes his head, scraping the scraps from the plates into the garbage returning the grin, "I like where this is going," Tying off the bag, he holds up two fingers, "give me two minutes," he opens the door to the apartment and starts jogging down the hallway, "two minutes!!" you hear him call out.

The door to the apartment doesn't even fully shut before you hear the familiar buzz coming from your bag. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you angrily push away from the table and stomp over to the counter, dumping out your purse just to see Unknown Caller lit up on your phone.

You hit the green button so hard it doesn't register, so you do it again until it answers, "Hello?! What the FUCK do you want?!" No answer. But this time, you can hear someone breathing heavily. "You need some help. Seriously, leave me the fuck alone!" Hanging up, you slam the phone down onto the counter.

"Doll?" Bucky asks from the doorway, he sighs, "Was it that number bothering you again?"

"Yes!" You answer, flustered. "The next step is to just- change my number! I don't know what else to do."

Bucky steps in, closing in the door behind him with the back of his boot. His lips are pressed in tight line, "C'mere, darlin'," he holds his arms wide open, eyes soft. Dragging your feet, you meet him halfway and lay your head on his chest, "It's gonna be okay," he coos in your ear. "It's just some asshole with nothing better to do. They'll get bored soon enough. Worst case, we'll change your number. We can even go down to the store tomorrow and get you a new phone?" Bucky offers, trying to be optimistic as he caresses your arms up and down.

"I was just really hoping it wouldn't get to that point." You admit, pulling away from his chest just enough to look up at him.

"We'll do what we have to." Bucky smiles, cupping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before pressing his lips to yours.

Letting your lips linger a moment as your eyes close, you inhale deeply, taking in the cypress scented soap still lingering on his skin from a shower he took earlier. It's your favorite. Hence why you keep buying it every time he runs out. Bucky's lips separate yours, and when just the tips of your tongues connect, a barely audible whimper escapes your mouth.

Like a gun starting a marathon, it was all Bucky needed to hear. Reaching down and gripping behind your thighs, he hoists you up. With a delighted squeak, you wrap your legs around his torso, laughing but keeping your lips on his as your hands run through his short hair. Using one hand flat against your lower back to keep you pressed into his chest, Bucky's other hand firmly grasped your ass. His fingers purposefully grazing the inseam of your jeans between your legs as he walked towards the bedroom.

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, keeping you both upright. You break the mashing of tongues to re-adjust your position and straddle him. Leaning in, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth graze just a tiny bit before letting go. Bucky exhales a drawn out, low groan before licking his lips. The look in his eyes is absolutely carnal as he tugs your shirt over your head and throws it across the room. Not even bothering with your bra, he just pulls the black lace cups down beneath your breasts, propping them up in exposure as he dips down to flick his tongue across your nipple.

Initially it makes you shudder, but as he continues to suck, nibble, lick, repeat, you find reprieve in grinding your hips down into the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Bucky lets out a stifled groan before switching his mouth to your other nipple. You smirk to yourself; you just love to tease this man. Although, if we're being honest, this isn't so easy on you right now either.

Roughly gripping both sides of his face, you bring his lips back to yours. You’re starting to feel needy for more of his touch. Becoming desperate to relieve this fuel lit fire. Bucky’s hands were firmly placed on each of your ass cheeks, assisting your already rolling hips forward and back. He snakes one hand between your bodies, slipping it down the front of your pants, his finger sliding once between your slit. You both moan loudly in unison into the kiss.

"Fuuuck..." Bucky breathed, tilting his head back just slightly that your lips pull apart. "You're already so fucking wet for me," his lascivious eyes lock onto yours, his breathing already becoming rather ragged.

Hearing his debauched voice, knowing just that single glide of his finger has him aching so badly, has ignited a new spark in you. "It's all yours, baby," you purred. Biting the bottom corner of your lip, you slowly get off his lap. Hooking each of your pointer fingers into the front pockets of Bucky's jeans, you encourage him to stand up as you drop to your knees before him.

As he's fumbling with the button and zipper, you stare up at him with tantalizing eyes, your hands firmly grazing along his muscular thighs. Once he's able to get it open, you help start to shimmy down his jeans and boxer briefs passed his hips until they pool on the floor. Bucky's thick, long cock springs up at almost eye level in enthusiasm, instantly making your mouth water. Sticking your tongue out as far as you possibly can, you lock eyes with Bucky and press the tip to your tongue, dragging it to a flick.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, his body quivered at the first contact. You smile as you taste the initial saltiness on your tongue, licking your lips before hollowing out your cheeks and taking him into your mouth. Bucky exhales deeply, his head starting to tilt back but he stops, making sure he maintains eye contact with you. You draw back, pressing your tongue upward firmly, go forward, and go back again. After a moment, a rhythm gets going, you now move your tongue side to side as you bob front to back, sucking harder.

"That's it," Bucky coaxes, "That's my good fucking girl," a small whimper escapes your throat at his words of praise. You clamp your legs together a little tighter as it's getting harder to ignore the incessant throbbing and growing wet spot between your legs.

The next thing you know, his hands are in your hair, gathering it up into a makeshift ponytail. Grasping his shaft with your hand steadily, you use that to guide your mouth, twisting and gliding easily. You know it's his weakness. Bucky's hips start to buck up into your mouth as he pulls your head down further onto his throbbing cock. Through now teary eyes you’re determined to watch as his face starts to contort with pleasure, his moans music to your ears just as your gagging is to him.

"You look...Ahh...so...fucking...pretty," Each word comes out with a drive of his hips into your mouth. In the dim lighting of the room, completely blissed out on pleasure, he looks like a fucking god. And he's mine. The thought alone is enough to make you explode. "Ugh!" Bucky growls, "I can't take it anymore! C'mere!" With a small 'pop', he pulls out and grabs underneath your arms and tosses you onto the bed.

Giggling, you wipe the excess saliva off your swollen, red lips as you push back further onto the bed. Bucky pulls your jeans and panties down and off in one swift motion before kneeling onto the bed. His eyes are glazed over, solely focused on between your legs. He crawls upward, and it's purely feline as he dips down, his mouth creating a seal and sucking once.

The combination of a loud moan and gasp get ripped straight from your lungs as you practically convulsed off the bed from being so aroused. Bucky quickly and securely locks your thighs in place to keep them open and from you going anywhere. He grinned, watching every single movement.

"Eyes on me, princess," he ordered. Pressing down on your lips, you nodded in anticipation. Leaning in, Bucky skimmed his lips on your very inner thigh, placing a feather light kiss that made your entire abdomen tense.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Fuck," Bucky sits back up on his knees, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans that was still around his ankles. "Hello?" You stare up at him in complete disbelief, "What, now?" He looks down at you on the bed, giving a sympathetic look and mouths 'sorry'. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he drags a hand down his face. "Yeah... yeah. No- I understand... Okay. Yep. I'll be there. Bye." He hangs up the phone.

"Don't say it," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your legs.

Bucky takes a deep breath, "I have to go back, a mission came up."

"Annnd, you said it," you look up at the ceiling, refusing to keep that eye contact that you were so adamant on not even a minute ago.

"It sounded pretty important, Doll." Bucky is off the bed, pulling up his pants and re-adjusting himself in them.

"It always is," you mutter under your breath. Sighing, you just accepted the fact that your night is completely ruined. "So, what you're telling me is, that I'm getting cock blocked by The Avengers?"

Bucky sits on the bed, placing a delicate hand on your cheek, "I'm really sorry. I'll make this up to you tenfold, promise." He kisses you softly, "I have to go. I'll contact you as soon as I can. I love you," He offers a small smile.

You sigh, knowing you can never let him leave on bad terms, "I love you too, Buck." Sitting up you give him a hug and a few extra kisses that probably made him late.

Still sitting in bed after Bucky had gone, you felt irrationally irritated by how he left. Tapping on your thighs, a headache was already brewing from the pent-up sexual tension that you were unable to get out. That's when you suddenly remembered a little something on your phone that might just help you out in this situation. There was this one particular time you and Bucky decided to record yourselves having sex, and you've never went back and watched it. If there was ever a time to go back and do so...

Excitedly, you go over to the dresser. You pull open your underwear drawer and dig through all the way to the back, where you stash your favorite vibrator. You click the silicone button a few times to make sure it's charged, and all the intensity settings worked before laughing menacingly to yourself and closing the drawer. Tossing the toy onto the bed, you walk out to the kitchen.

Your phone was where you had left it earlier, still slammed face down on the counter. Sashaying over, you notice that there's an applecore sitting next to it. This is odd, because you didn't have one and Bucky is normally very meticulous when it comes to cleaning and picking up after himself. Going to throw it out, you realize there is no garbage bag in the trash can and suddenly it makes sense. Bucky was in a rush to leave; he probably didn't have the time to replace the bag. So, you do it yourself, and throw out the eaten fruit.

Getting back to your room with your phone, you notice that your underwear drawer is open. Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you look from the bed, to the dresser, back to the bed. I could have sworn I closed that. Then again, maybe it's just the headache coming on. You close the dresser drawer, and all too eagerly jump under the covers.

The ambiance for a little 'self-love' right now is almost too perfect. Your bedroom is dimly lit with only a mood lamp and the fog covered streetlamps from down below your apartment. The light patter of rain hit against your bedroom window and fire escape underneath it, while some light thunder rolled some distance away.

Scrolling through your phone, it wasn't hard to find exactly what you were looking for. Pressing 'play', you're watching a side view of you taking Bucky from the back. Your mouth drops open slightly, seeing it from a third person view. Bucky has his Vibranium hand on the side of your face, pushing you down further into the mattress and he is just relentless. And the sounds, God the sounds. You grab the vibrator, turning it on and quickly placing it onto your already sensitive and swollen clit and start rubbing it and soft circles.

"Look at how good you take it,"

"Oh, God!"

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Mhm,"

"I can't hear you, princess,"

"Can I come Bucky? Please, please let me..."

"Of course, my good girl can come. Here... lean down more...open those legs wider...touch yourself...yeah...fuck, yeah...just like that baby,"

The bed is practically shattering underneath you as Bucky, who isn't even there, coaxes you into having an orgasm with yourself. You rub the vibrator more intensely, knowing you’re about to come hard from the pent-up tension this evening. The lights surge briefly in the apartment from the passing storm, just as your head presses down further against the pillows and the ripples of pleasure aggressively take over your body.

The lights go out momentarily, and that's when you see the silhouette of a tall, dark hooded figure standing on your fire escape looking into your window.

The lights come back on a second later and you’re panting. Both from the release and from what you saw. The cognizance hits you that you just came in front of a total stranger. Oh, and maybe that I might have a stalker.

The cops came, looked around, made you feel like an idiot, took a report, and left. Not feeling comfortable staying in the apartment for the night, you called Hailee, who offered up her spare bedroom.

Sitting across from you with her legs crossed on the couch, her hair in a bonnet, a glass of wine, and blue raspberry vape, she leaned in, listening intently to the details leading up to this moment.

“Soo… you know I’m gonna ask,” she starts.

You sigh, “I don’t know when I’m going to tell Bucky. I always feel so guilty when he’s away and something happens.”

Hailee’s face scrunches as she waves her hand in dismissal, “No, no not that,” You raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. ���Can I see it?” She lowers her voice, but it’s oozing with hope.

“Bitch,” both your eyebrows raise in aghast, realizing what she’s actually asking.

“What?! Come onnnn,” She whines, pressing her hands together in plead and pouts her lip.

“Oh my god, Hailee! No! Just… no.”

Rolling her eyes she composes herself again, “Okay, so like, you ever just… look at a man, and you just know?” Her hands wave around as she’s trying to explain, “Like, that man can fuck? I feel like that’s Bucky. And so…” Hailee looks so determined right now, “s-shame on you!” She points directly at you, this is comical, “for not sharing the video evidence! Because now I’m convinced you have a boring, vanilla sex life!”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter sipping your glass of water, you hear yourself coming down from the highs of ecstasy through your phone. Hailee’s wide eyes are glued, mouth dropped open, speechless, for once. The sound finally cuts off.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother because-”

You quickly snatch the phone out of her hand, “Okay, you got what you wanted. Can we be serious now?!”

“Yeah,” Hailee shakes her head, “yeah, of course…” she takes a deep breath, “I’m just saying, you seriously have some career options if your current job doesn’t work out though.”

“Hailee!!”

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Her hands go up in a surrender, “but you put in a police report, and I mean, of course you can stay here. What else are you going to do?”

*Ding*

“Hang on, I just got a text.”

“Who the fuck would be texting you this late?” Hailee asks, getting off the couch to read the text with you over your shoulder.

Together you read the message:

Part 2

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr

[dollwrites]

OMGG YOUR REIGEN SMUT IS LITERALLY SO DELICIOUS LIKE I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE AND DESCRIBE HIM 😭😭

MAY I PLEASE REQUEST A DRABBLE OF REIGEN + FEMALE/GN READER IN A MATING PRESS PLEASE 🙏🏾🙏🏾 I FEEL LIKE THATD BE SO HOT WITH REIGEN

sorry for screaming in your inbox but I NEED HIM SO BAD 💔💔

— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!

all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. minors dni, dark themes may be present. these pieces are never proof read so mistakes are probably present. < 3 enjoy your experience

Reigen knew he was fucked.

he’d never actually planned to meet you in person— he liked to talk his big game from the safety and anonymity of the hookup site. he liked to tell you about all the positions he would have you in, how he would ‘pin you to his desk and breed your warm pussy until you were trembling and sore’, but only if he could do it over texts because he knew to look into your eyes and say something like that would be impossible. it might’ve been wrong of him to play pretend, but he couldn’t help it. he became addicted to sexting you; you were one hell of an ego booster, after all, sending all the naughty pictures and videos you did. begging him to fuck you in that soft voice of yours, playing with your pussy for him, no matter when he asked— morning or night.

but he’d never intended this to happen.

he never expected you to actually show up to his office and expect him to make good on all of his dirty promises.

Reigen knew he was so fucked.

“F— fuck, fuck, fuck!” Reigen moans, his eyes, heavily lidded, roll around in his skull as he smears his open mouth around your chest. he nuzzled his face against your flesh when he could hardly think to suck on your nipples anymore, simply allowing his own saliva to mix with the sweat rolling down from his temples, sticking the tips of his blonde tendrils to his forehead. “C—can’t cum anymore, there’s no way I can, nng, cum again…” he chanted under his ragged breath.

it was so low that you barely heard it over the sound of your own, happy moans, or the sound of the desk scraping against the floor in time with his cunt-hungry thrusting. they were the same mindless, and less than tactful, greedy bucking or his hips that had made him cum inside you the first time. the second. the third. but you weren’t finished with him yet, not satisfied by a long shot. both of your hands had slid downward from his shoulders, to his back, and eventually enveloped his rounded ass cheeks, digging your nails in and pushing against him to urge him to fuck you faster. fuck you harder. and, with your legs spread open wide, you gave him even more access to your depths. “Don’t stop yet…” you pant, your head thrown back against a stack of completely forgotten paperwork. “Please don’t stop… fuck me, Reigen!”

he desperately wanted to argue that he already had— the evidence of the last three rounds dribbled out of your pussy each time he bottomed out in you! how could you still want more of him, what if he had no more to give? still, even as his mind knew he was reaching a limit, his body wouldn’t listen. regardless of how overstimulated he was, regardless of the way his cock twitched and ached, regardless of the soreness in his legs and abdomen, he couldn’t stop. not with your cunt so warm and tight, wrapped around him. “No more… I can’t take it anymore…” Reigen pants, but he contradicts his own words when his belt jingles against his thigh as he hooked his knee up on to the corner of the desk. he needed more leverage, otherwise his knees were sure to go weak. grabbing the backs of your knees, he’s able to find a more stable position, kneeling on the desk and mounting you. “Y— your pussy is making me crazy, so soft, so f-fucking tight,” he babbles, tightening his grip on your legs until he could pin you down.”If you don’t stop clenching, I’m gonna cum. P-please, don’t squeeze so much, ugh…!”

but, of course, you couldn’t stop now. not when he was so close to cumming again. your back arches, pushing up to meet his rhythm, taking him balls-deep each time, crying out about how much you needed him to fill you up. your walls flutter around his spasming girth, begging him to give it up. “Cum for me, Reigen!” it was practically an order, but one he couldn’t disobey, even if he wanted to. he cursed under his breath, conceding to your needy request, feeling his self control crumble, and the selfish desire for more pleasure creeping up.

in a more primal and dominant position than he’s ever been before, Reigen can feel his high just around the corner, so he starts to chase it. “I’m cumming,” Reigen gurgled, his face tinted pink and raining sweat and saliva from his open mouth down on to you, but you didn’t mind the shower. “T- take it for me, please! Take it for me!!” the sound of his balls smacking against your ass gets louder as he drills himself downward, fucking you with more reckless abandon now. insecurities out the window, he couldn’t think of anything but filling you with his load.

one.

more.

time.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Tech’s benevolent-dictator-for-life to authoritarian pipeline

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/10/bdfl/#high-on-your-own-supply

Silicon Valley's "authoritarian turn" is hard to miss: tech bosses have come out for autocrats like Trump, Orban, Milei, Bolsonaro, et al, and want to turn San Francisco into a militia-patrolled apartheid state operated for the benefit of tech bros:

https://newrepublic.com/article/180487/balaji-srinivasan-network-state-plutocrat

Smart people have written well about what this means, and have gotten me thinking, too:

https://www.programmablemutter.com/p/why-did-silicon-valley-turn-right

Regular readers will know that I make a kind of hobby of collecting definitions of right-wing thought:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#tolerable-racism

One of these – a hoary old cliche – is that "a conservative is a liberal who's been mugged." I don't give this one much credence, but it takes on an interesting sheen when combined with this anonymous gem: "Conservatives say they long for the simpler times of their childhood, but what they miss is that the reason they lived simpler lives back then wasn't that the times were simpler; rather, it's because they were children."

If you're a tech founder who once lived in a world where your workers were also your pals and didn't shout at you about labor relations, perhaps that's not because workers got "woke," but rather, because when you were all scrapping at a startup, you were all on an equal footing and there weren't any labor relations to speak of. And if you're a once-right-on tech founder who used to abstractly favor "social justice" but now find yourself beset by people demanding that you confront your privilege, perhaps what's changed isn't those people, but rather the amount of privilege you have.

In other words, "a reactionary tech boss is a liberal tech boss who hired a bunch of pals only to have them turn around and start a union." And also: "Tech founders say things were simpler when they were running startups, but what they miss is that the reason no one asked their startup to seriously engage with the social harms it caused is the because the startup was largely irrelevant to society, while the large company it turned into is destroying millions of peoples' lives today."

The oft-repeated reactionary excuse that "I didn't leave the progressive movement, they left me," can be both technically true and also profoundly wrong: if progressives in your circle never bothered you about your commercial affairs, perhaps that's because those affairs didn't matter when you were grinding out code in your hacker house, but they matter a lot now that you have millions of users and thousands of employees.

I've been in tech circles since before the dawn of the dotcoms; I was part of a movement of people who would come over to your house with a stack of floppies and install TCP/IP and PPP networking software on your computer and show you how to connect to a BBS or ISP, because we wanted everyone to have as much fun as we were having.

Some of us channeled that excitement into starting companies that let people get online, create digital presences of their own, and connect with other people. Some of us were more .ORG than .COM and gave our lives over to activism and nonprofits, missing out on the stock options and big paydays. But even though we ended up in different places, we mostly started in the same place, as spittle-flecked, excited kids talking a mile a minute about how cool this internet thing would be and helping you, a normie, jump into it.

Many of my peers from the .ORG and .COM worlds went on to set up institutions – both companies and nonprofits – that have since grown to be critical pieces of internet infrastructure: classified ad platforms, online encyclopedias, CMSes and personal publishing services, critical free/open source projects, standards bodies, server-to-server utilities, and more.

These all started out as benevolent autocracies: personal projects started by people who pitched in to help their virtual neighbors with the new, digital problems we were all facing. These good people, with good impulses, did good: their projects filled an important need, and grew, and grew, and became structurally important to the digital world. What started off as "Our pal's project that we all pitch in on," became, "Our pal's important mission that we help with, but that also has paid staff and important stakeholders, which they oversee as 'benevolent dictator for life.'"

Which was fine. The people who kicked off these projects had nurtured them all the way from a napkin doodle to infrastructure. They understood them better than anyone else, had sacrificed much for them, and it made sense for them to be installed as stewards.

But what they did next, how they used their powers as "BFDLs," made a huge difference. Because we are all imperfect, we are all capable of rationalizing our way into bad choices, we are all riven with insecurities that can push us to do things we later regret. When our actions are checked – by our peers' social approval or approbation; by the need to keep our volunteers happy; by the possibility of a mass exodus of our users or a fork of our code – these imperfections are balanced by consequences.

Dictators aren't necessarily any more prone to these lapses in judgment than anyone else. Benevolent dictators actually exist, people who only retain power because they genuinely want to use that power for good. Those people aren't more likely to fly off the handle or talk themselves into bad places than you or me – but to be a dictator (benevolent or otherwise) is to exist without the consequences that prevent you from giving in to those impulses. Worse: if you are the dictator – again, benevolent or otherwise – of a big, structurally important company or nonprofit that millions of people rely on, the consequences of these lapses are extremely consequential.

This is how BDFL arrangements turn sour: by removing themselves from formal constraint, the people whose screwups matter the most end up with the fewest guardrails to prevent themselves from screwing up.

No wonder people who set out to do good, to help others find safe and satisfying digital homes online, find themselves feeling furious and beset. Given those feelings, can we really be surprised when "benevolent" dictators discover that they have sympathy for real-world autocrats whose core ethos is, "I know what needs to be done and I could do it, if only the rest of you would stop nagging me about petty bullshit that you just made up 10 minutes ago but now insist is the most important thing in the world?"

That all said, it's interesting to look at the process by which some BDFLs transitioned to community-run projects with checks and balances. I often think about how Wikipedia's BDFL, the self-avowed libertarian Jimmy Wales, decided (correctly, and to his everlasting credit), that the project he raised from a weird idea into a world-historic phenomenon should not be ruled over by one guy, not even him.

(Jimmy is one of those libertarians who believes that we don't need governments to make us be kind and take care of one another because he is kind and takes care of other people – see also John Gilmore and Penn Jillette:)

https://www.cracked.com/article_40871_penn-jillette-wants-to-talk-it-all-out.html

Jimmy's handover to the Wikimedia Foundation gives me hope for our other BDFLs. He's proof that you can find yourself in the hotseat without being so overwhelmed with personal grievance that you find yourself in sympathy with actual fascists, but rather, have the maturity and self-awareness to know that the reason people are demanding so much of you is that you have – deliberately and with great effort – created a situation in which you owe the world a superhuman degree of care and attention, and the only way to resolve that situation equitably and secure your own posterity is to share that power around, not demand that you be allowed to wield it without reproach.

[aurynsia]

Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 2

James Potter x Reader

Summary: After receiving a mysterious letter left under your door, you begin to search for the culprit…

Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, reader plays hard to get without intending to, idiots in love, potentially a slow burn, oc!friends, lovesick!james x salty!reader, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, NOT EDITED!

Word count: 1.7K

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Has anyone got any better ideas?” James asked, slumping against the wall of his dorm room with desperation plastered across his face. An hour into the school year and the Marauders were already failing in their attempts to woo James’ crush.

“I don’t know, Prongs. We’ve established that you can’t just approach the poor thing and ask her to marry you, THAT would be a horrible attempt at a relationship. You also can’t stalk her the entire year, that’s illegal.” Peter pondered, looking concentrated in thought. “James,” Remus broke his silence, “You’re a smart boy under that flirty exterior. You get good grades and you know how to write. Why don’t you just write down how you feel and pass it along?”

“Remus…you genius.” James replied with complete sincerity, dashing to hug the boy who might have just saved his chances with you. “That’s perfect! She won’t feel expected to respond, I can say all I need to say without tensing up around her, and I don’t even have to expose myself if she doesn’t like me back! It can be anonymous, yes!” James rambled as he searched his desk for a spare sheet of paper and a quill, ignoring the silent glances his friends gave to one another, teasing him mentally.

A sweet baby blue envelope was retrieved from his stack of correspondence material, lined on his desk as he began to write. “Looks like we don’t need to tell you what to say then, Prongsie?” Sirius commented to the quiet room as all four of them attended to their own business. James hummed in reply, tongue sticking out from his lips in concentration as his eyebrows dipped together. “Just have…to get this…right…” he murmured, pouring his heart out onto the paper.

Not too subtle, but refined, like a gentleman. Not too pushy, but still explicit in his feelings. Anonymous, but hinting at who your new secret admirer could possibly be. A flourish of shifting paper filled the quiet air as James tucked his note into the envelope, finally scribbling your name on the surface.

Stood in front of your dorm room, James shifted his weight from his left foot to his right as he weighed his options. Your uncharacteristic chatter could be heard from behind the wood, though all he could make out were his friends’ names and an unmistakably annoyed tone hung on your words.

“James” you continued, and his heart began to swim laps around his chest. You sounded confused and frustrated as you rambled on, allowing James to take a beat as he collected himself.

Your voice softened, and he took this as his call to action. He slipped the note beneath the door and pursued the safety of his own dorm before he could get caught.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“EHEM! ‘To the only creature I could ever admire,’” Charlie began her dramatic reading of the mysterious note left under your dorm room door. “I have the greatest honour in being met with your stunning eyes, soft skin and quiet personality everyday when I pass you in the hall. The classes I share with you are moments in which my heart flutters at the sound of your gentle voice. The intelligence you hold and your refined sensibility could never be matched by a boy like me-’ ooh it’s a boy!! Ehem, sorry…‘but this is my best effort at showing that I am worthy of your love. I’ve seen the beauty you hold behind those guarded walls and I would sell my soul to bathe in its light. Make me yours, and I’ll give you the moon, the sun, and the stars in the sky.’ Oh! And it’s signed, ‘Forever yours…’”

You were stunned into an impression of a statue, barely showing the rise and fall of your chest. Hope smirked at the deep blush hovering over your cheeks while Charlie caught her breath from her award-winning performance. The room was still, a curiosity lingering in the air as all three of you began to silently ponder, who could this mysterious suitor be?

“Well, it says here that he thinks you’re out of his league- oh, damn! That doesn’t narrow it down…” Charlie joked to ease the tension and a fit of giggles erupted from the surface of your bed. “If it were up to me, dear, I’d start crossing names off of a list!” Hope laughed, though her smile fell as you and Charlie looked at her with faces of realisation.

“That’s what we’ll do.” You spoke for the first time since the note arrived, “We’ll write down every boy who could fit this description and narrow down the options!” You said with a glint of determination in your eye.

“So you’re interested in this secret admirer?” Charlie smirked, though her face emitted a sense of hope. “If he can speak so honestly about all of this,” you gestured to the note, “then I believe his maturity might just be worth it.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Four pairs of eyes locked on you as you entered the Great Hall for breakfast. James was visibly more flustered than the others, but the rest of them were equally as invested in your reaction to the note.

You and your friends sat down with quiet whispers and glances down the table. As your eyes passed over the group of trouble makers they immediately paid special interest to their plates of food. Sirius began to pick at his eggs, Peter at his fruit and Remus stole quick sips from his juice. James gulped around nothing as he stared at his reflection in his plate, willing the bright flare of red occupying his face to fade away.

Once the three of you had moved your focus to a small huddle around your breakfast, the selection of Gryffindor boys immediately returned to ogling. “Can any of you see what they’re doing? Is that a quill in her hand?” Peter questioned. You shared quick giggles with your friends that disrupted the secrecy of your activity. The Marauders couldn’t quite place what you were doing, but they knew it would have something to do with the letter.

“An eye for mischief that one has, Prongs, what a cheeky couple you’d make- Ouch!” Sirius was interrupted by a sharp kick from his best friend under the table, though James’ eyes never left your frame.

Suddenly, your group took on faces of empathy, severity and concern, glancing at each other from your hunched positions. You trained your gaze on the boys who were discussing you, once again causing them to occupy themselves with the activities of breakfast.

After a lingering stare, you shifted back to the safety of your team and resumed your actions with a resolved expression.

“What do you think that was all about- Ow Prongs, what the bloody hell did I do?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You gently opened the doors to the Great Hall, quill and notebook tucked behind your back. Charlie and Hope accompanied you to seats by the Gryffindor table, glancing over the potential perpetrators of last night’s events.

With a final look over your eligible bachelors, you sat down and began to work, sheltered by your friends. “I think this is pretty much the entire male cohort of Gryffindor…” you giggled breathlessly, pondering the dense list of names placed in front of you. Charlie and Hope joined in on your humour, scanning the list to double check your memory, then glancing around once more.

“Oh…um, w-well,” Charlie started, “there is one group we haven’t quite considered yet…” You and Hope turned towards the girl, who glared at you with an uncharacteristically subtle, mental comment. All three of you turned to face the Marauders, who were busy devouring their plates full of breakfast.

Your gaze lingered on each one. Sirius was no match for your intelligence and humility. You were certainly out of Peter’s league. Remus could convey that quiet poeticism that made you blush when the note was read out. James was always unpredictable. He did succeed in classes and he could potentially feel intimidated by your presence, or he could just be a dickhead. Either way, all four boys were, unfortunately, eligible suspects.

You returned to your coven of secrecy, hunched forms plotting over your notebook. You listed the boys below the pre-existing list of Gryffindor inhabitants that you shared classes with. ‘Sirius, Peter, Remus, James.’

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Potions class finally arrived as the sun threatened to set in the faded sky. James rushed to his seat, close enough to you to feel sickeningly sweet without making it too weird. He wasn’t being too weird about all of this, right? No, the note was the right approach.

You drifted airily to your seat a few minutes later, resting on the chair as you retrieved your equipment. James felt his heart fight against his chest, pushing to be released from his lovesick body. A goofy smile captured his expression as he gazed at the back of your head in a daze, eventually interrupted by the beginning of class.

Potions came and went, with James struggling to keep his good grades with you just grazing the edges of his eye line. As the class began to fizzle away, and books found themselves tucked in bags or hugged towards chests, James decided this was his chance. Making his way to the front of the class, he smirked with confidence as he attempted to ask for his grade on the most recent assignment.

As he approached the teacher’s desk, he quickly dropped a folded note on your desk as you leaned into your bag on the opposite side. He promptly began his banter as you returned upright, watching as you curiously discovered the note in his peripheral vision.

“…Potter, you’ll get the grade at the same time as the rest of your class. Have some consideration for my free-time the next time you think to ask.” The professor’s words draw his attention back to their discussion, excusing himself with “Apologies, Professor! Have a good evening!” unusually happy for someone who just discovered they wouldn’t know their grade for at least another week.

As he swiftly moved towards his own belongings, a little bit too cocky for his own good and high on the success of his plan, he met a classmate’s back with a thump.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…” He realised who he had run into, your sweet fingers pinching the note you had yet to open as you swivelled around to face him, curiously. “Um, I- I’m sorry!” He rambled as he inched past you, scooping up his belongings and dashing out of the classroom.

Bollocks.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

A/N: TYSM for all the support on the first part! This chapter should hopefully move the story along so we can get to the real fluff >:3 As always, likes and reblogs are immensely appreciated! Comment for part 3 <3

[sentryluvs]

“Between the Stacks” Bob Reynolds (Sentry x reader)

Summary: Bob sneaks out for some fresh air and meets you at a bookstore near the old Avengers Tower.

tags: Fluff, Bob is the cutest awkward bean, bookworm! bob, reader is a bookstore employee, set after the events of Thunderbolts* Yelena and Ava are besties.

First fanfic! short chapters

parts three to five and epilogue | special chapter

Please comment down below what should I write next!

00.1 - Fresh Air

The old Avengers Tower, now home to the new Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, the Thunderbolts* was pure chaos. Alexei and John were in a shouting match in the kitchen, Yelena was sharpening her knives with an leave me alone look while seated on the large sofa, beside her was Ava, strategically planning future mission logistics on her comically big Ipad, and Bucky was trying to keep Alexei and John from ripping their heads off.

On the other hand, Bob Reynolds stood by the window, staring at the city lights from above. He could feel the Void scratching at the back of his mind, restless and hungry. He needed air. He needed… out.

He managed to slip out quietly, barely noticed. The city at night was a different world-cool, alive, anonymous. Bob wandered for a while, until he found himself in front of a cozy bookstore, its windows glowing gold against the dark. The sign read Tower View Store. He hesitated for a minute, then pushed the door open.

The bell chimed. The scent of coffee, old paper, and wood greeted him. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, and a few customers browsed in silence. You stood behind the counter, sorting a stack of new arrivals.

Bob looked up to the ceiling, his eyes following the arrows and sections that pointed around the whole store, then drifted to the fiction section, after a little bit, he ended up picking up two books, frowning at the covers.

You noticed him when he lowered his gaze and kept walking, taking in his appearance: cozy, baggy, grey tones. Posture slouched, clean shaven face, unruly hair, anxious looking and very handsome. You couldn’t help to drop your customer service smile into something more genuine as you gently approached him.

“Excuse me”

He jumped a little as you appeared behind him, apologizing inmediately for his startleness. That made you smile even more. Seeing that you werent uncomfortable around his presence, he relaxed a little bit.

“If you need help picking, let me know!”

You said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

His gaze lowered again. “Uh, yeah. I can’t decide. They both look… interesting.” He said with a hint of uncertainty.

You glanced at the titles-one was a hopeful fantasy, the other a gritty dystopia.

“Depends on your mood. Want to escape, or face the darkness?” You joked light heartly, oh

Bob blinked.

“Escape. Definitely escape.”

You grinned.

“Then go with this one.”

You handed him the fantasy.

“It’s got heart. And dragons.” You winked in a friendly way and his heart fluttered, feeling better.

He smiled, a little awkward.

“Thank you. I’m Bob, by the way.” He stretched his hand, but remembering what would happen he tried to pull away panicking, however, you shook his hand softly before he could even try

“Nice to meet you Bob, I’m Y/N, hope to see you around, enjoy your book” You smiled and turned around before he would speak again.

Left in a bit of a shock when nothing happened, he repeated your name softly, testing how it felt.

It felt good

002- Bookish beggining

Bob became a regular. Every few days, he’d slip in during your shift. Sometimes he’d buy a book, just browse, or just try to have a conversation with you. You started to look forward to his visits.

One afternoon, you caught him lingering by the classics.

You snuck behind him, hoping to give him a little scare.

“Ever read Tolkien?” you asked, holding up The Hobbit. He didn’t flinch, turning around like normal.

He shook his head. “No. Should I?”

You smiled. “Absolutely. It’s the perfect place to start if you want adventure with a side of comfort.”

You turned around “Let me know if you want it, this one’s on the house”

The next time he came in, he was halfway through.

“I like Bilbo,” he admitted. “He’s braver than he thinks.”

You grinned. “Most people are.”

He looked at you, something vulnerable in his eyes. “Do you ever feel like you’re pretending to be brave?”

You nodded. “All the time. But sometimes pretending is how you become the real thing.”

He seemed to consider that, then smiled. “Maybe you’re right.”

003- Close to You

Your conversations grew longer, drifting from books to life. You learned Bob liked the smell of rain and old paper, that he always checked the endings of books before starting them, that he loves a good cup of french vanilla. He also opened up about his struggle with drug addiction, and his rehab process. He told you vaguely about his job at the old Avengers Tower. You couldnt helped to feel curious but didnt mind too much about it.

One evening, as you were closing up, he lingered by the counter.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, voice low, eyes looking at you expectantly.

“Of course, what is it?” You said, carefully counting the money from the registers.

“Why do you work here? You seem… I don’t know. Too smart for retail.” Bob said while rubbing the back of his neck nerviously.

The question caught you off guard, you laughed. “I love it here. “ You tell him with sincerity, his heart warmed at the way your eyes glowed with admiration.

“I love helping people find stories that make them feel less alone. Plus, the view’s not bad.” You nodded toward the window, where the old Avengers Tower loomed in the distance.

Bob followed your gaze, then looked back at you. “It is a good view.”

Bob felt very comfortable around you. You noticed how he relaxed, fixed his posture and his smile came easier. Sometimes, you’d catch him glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You questioned internally if he was really talking about the Tower’s view.

continue to next part here

[remlionheart]

Anonymous asked:

PLZZZZ i beg you smoking sesh w megumi

♡‧₊˚ ask and you shall receive ✩࿐࿔ it's been a while since i've done a meg drabble and out of all of the different drugs we've explored on this page, this just made me realize that i've never written about weed lol so thank u for the suggestion this was really fun to write <333 home from college au. heavy we-shouldn't-be-doing-this trope. aged up characters. fem!reader x ((the peoples’ husband)), *⟡toxic!megumi*⟡ 3.2k words. porn with a plot. angst. degradation and praise. stoned sex. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ‎‎♡‧₊˚

❀ MDNI ❀

keep me h i g h ₊⊹

now playing: wet dreams ☾₊˚

⊹₊ ⋆✿

It'd been four months since the last time you'd seen Megumi.

Between college and the city lines that separated you, the two of you had cut almost every tie that once kept you connected. It was strange to think about sometimes - how quickly you'd gone from being the person he spent almost every weekend with to being nothing more than a fly on the wall of his social media, occasionally liking his posts but never getting anything back in return.

You tried to remind yourself that it shouldn't have been a surprise. Your relationship with him had never been easy. All throughout high-school you'd fallen into the same pattern of push and pull with him, his feelings everchanging and impossible to keep up with.

He'd kiss you in private and ignore you in public. Tell you that you were just friends and sneak through your window on the nights he didn't want to be alone. Run his hand along your back until you had fallen asleep and leave without so much as a "goodbye".

As painful as it was, a part of you had almost been relieved when things finally ended. No more pushing, no more pulling - just you and the new town you'd moved to. You and the new friends you'd made. You and your new fresh start. You still wanted the best for him despite everything, but you also wanted the best for yourself too. And deep down, you knew that didn't involve drunken hook-ups and empty words.

You hummed as you stepped out of the shower, the smell of coconut shampoo and lavender body wash dancing around you. It was unexpectedly comforting to be back home, even if it was only for a few days. Your roommates had tried to talk you out of coming back to Tokyo for fall break, but you knew you couldn't do that to your parents. You were certain there would be another time for going out and Halloween house parties.

Your room was still exactly the same as you'd left it - a mess of purple blankets on your bed and off white string-lights decorating the walls. Clothes that you'd left behind still hanging in your closet along with a stack of old journals. Tarot cards and candles and framed pictures of you and your friends sitting atop your dresser. It was nice to know that it still felt like your safe haven despite months of not seeing it.

You continued humming the same song that you'd started in the shower as you slipped on a baby-blue tank top, pairing it with your favorite silk pajama shorts. You lit a couple of candles and cracked the window open, letting crisp October air swirl through your room before turning off the overhead light and crawling into bed.

A cozy sense of nostalgia crept over you as you nestled into your bed and pulled out your phone.

Just like when you lived here, you were the only one still up after a movie had put both of your parents to sleep. You were mid-scroll, debating on what Youtube rabbit hole you wanted to go down for the night when a text popped up that immediately put you in an upright position again.

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You called him as soon as his last text came through, but he sent you straight to voicemail. "fushiguro," you texted frantically, "seriously", "you can't do this".

You were out of bed and on your feet before you even knew what you were doing, rushing to lock your door as you quickly realized that there was no such thing as reasoning with him.

Your life had changed in an assortment of ways since you'd left and judging by the way he texted you, he had to know that too. The last picture you posted before coming back was of you and a boy that you'd been seeing for the last month. It was mostly casual, neither one of you quite ready to put a label on what you were doing, but it still made your stomach flutter thinking about seeing Megumi when you were actively sleeping with someone else.

You dialed his number again, only to immediately hang up. Your heart suddenly lodged in your throat when you noticed that you could hear the call ringing from both inside and outside of your room.

You watched his slender fingers loop under the base of your already cracked window, stealthily pushing it up like he'd done so many times before. A sea of memories flooded over you as he pulled himself up, swiftly swooping both of his legs into your room before projecting the rest of his body forward and landing perfectly in place, hardly make a sound.

The low glow of your string-lights grazed his face, the prettiest shade of blue meeting your stare while the two of you took a moment to study the person in front of you.

"Your parents really need to invest in a better security system."

You hated the laugh that escaped you. The slight smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth. The way your blood still danced in your veins at just the sight of him.

So much had changed in the last four months and yet, here you both were.

"Surely you didn't come all the way over here just to critique our home safety." You whispered.

"Seems like someone should." He countered, following behind you as you took a seat on the side of the bed.

He fished a joint and a lighter out of the front pocket of his jacket before tossing it onto the floor, leaving him in a black v-neck that accentuated his arms. He'd always been toned, but it was obvious that he'd been training a lot harder since you left - his shoulders and chest noticeably more defined than the last time you'd seen him. You'd never say it aloud given their relationship, but the older he got the more and more he seemed to resemble his dad.

"Bring your fan over here." He said, breaking your train of thought.

You nodded, staying light on your feet as you brought it over and aimed it at the window before reaching into the back of your dresser to grab an ashtray that you'd had stashed away since sophomore year. It was like no time had passed at all as you took a seat next to him again, setting the ashtray on your nightstand while he twirled the joint between his fingers.

You weren't sure why, but there was something about the way he brought it to his lips and flicked his lighter that created a dull ache at your center. Everything about him was so pretty and so nonchalant, effortlessly detached and infuriatingly nice to look at.

"Does your new boyfriend smoke?"

Your eyes instantly snapped to his, watching a plume of smoke trail felicitously from his mouth as he looked back at you. "Doesn't really look like the type who would." He added with a slight raise of his brow.

You didn't like anything about the question - from that fact that he had the audacity to ask it to his lethargic tone to the emphasis on the word "new", as if he was trying to imply that you'd been dating someone before you left.

You clicked your tongue to your cheek, letting out a huff as you snatched the joint from his lips. "You're insufferable." You repeated, drawing in a deep inhale.

The truth was, the boy you'd been seeing didn't smoke pot and you hadn't either since you'd started college, but there was no way you were admitting that to him. You took another hit, keeping your attention fixated on the window as your fan circulated the smoke out and pushed it into the night sky.

"I'll take that as a no." He whispered, his leg lightly nudging yours as he leaned over and plucked the joint from your fingers this time.

"Why are you here?" You finally asked, a sharp edge growing in your voice. "You were the one that quit talking to me, you know that right? You didn't even bother saying goodbye and then you just show up unannounced like nothing happened and ask me about my life and who I'm seeing and..." The weed was starting to hit you, your body suddenly heavy and your mind dizzy with a confusing mix of intoxication and irritation. "I just... Why? I mean, what's the point of any of this?"

A rare somber expression took over, softening his usual concrete features as he ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I don't know..." His gaze was glossy, his mind equally as hazy as yours. "I didn't know what to say when you left so I didn't say anything. It seemed easier that way, for both of us."

"But it wasn't –"

"I know." His demeanor was unexpectedly gentle despite how firm his tone was. "I'm sorry."

The room felt like it was spinning, his apology making something inside you ache. It was the first time in the three years you'd known him that he'd ever said it. That he'd ever actually admitted or acknowledged to hurting your feelings and even if the bar was in literal hell, it still felt good to hear those words finally leave his mouth.

"What else?" You pressed.

He took a moment to look you over, his eyes tentatively roaming along your face. “I missed you." He said honestly.

You'd never met anyone besides him who was capable of sounding so sincere and so indifferent at the same time.

"Missed your stupid laugh. Missed the way you'd always call me when you were drunk." He leaned in closer, his hand carefully taking the joint from yours as he set it on the ashtray and rested his palm on the back of your neck.

"Missed being in your room like this..." His voice dropped down to a low whisper, fanning lecherously across your skin. “Missed the feeling of you wrapped around me…”

“Megumi… we can’t…”

But you still let him close the already small gap between you anyway, his lips ghosting yours as you breathed him in. The familiar scent of false promises and expensive cologne flooding your senses.

"I know you.” He said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You wouldn’t have texted me back if you didn’t want to.”

"I –" His words were going straight to your center, the dull ache from earlier blossoming into an unignorable throb as his hand gradually trailed up your thigh. "I didn't –"

"Wouldn’t have posted that you were back in town if you didn’t want me to know…" His fingers were toying with the fabric of your shorts, methodically pushing them to the side. "Wouldn’t have left your window open if you wanted to be alone…”

Your ability to hold yourself together was threatening to buckle at any moment between the feeling of his grip tangling into your hair and his lips continuing to tortuously graze yours.

“And you definitely wouldn’t be this fucking wet if you really didn’t want me here…”

Your heart was slamming into your chest so hard you were almost afraid he'd hear it.

He kept his eyes locked with yours, watching the last bit of composure you had vanish entirely as he slipped past the thin barrier of your underwear and gained access to your weakest point.

Your movements betrayed your sentiment, a helpless whimper escaping you while your hips gravitated up towards his hand, practically begging for more.

"Look at you," he breathed, his middle finger drawing soft, heavenly circles between your thighs. "All that time without seeing each other and you still fall apart for me so easily. Why is that?"

Another heady little noise entered into the small space between you as you fought to keep your moans from getting any louder. You hadn't been this high in months. Your insides felt like they were on fire as he dipped down, just barely prodding at your entrance. But the more you tried to get from him, the more he pulled away. Unwilling to comply with your body's demands until you answered his question.

"Tell me." It was venom mixed with honey. Torment mixed with pleasure. He had you right where he wanted you - desperate and pining. Forced to give him what he wanted in exchange for what you needed. "Let me hear you fucking say it."

You grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, doing everything you could not to whine when the tip of his finger gently slid into you and then stopped without warning - gracing you with just enough to finally bring you to your breaking point.

"I wanted to see you." you said breathlessly, your pupils widening as you felt him push slightly deeper.

"What else?" He taunted, using your words against you.

"I wanted you – here." You yelped, your voice splitting as he sank in further.

You were delirious, ready to actually plead if that's what it took to get him to cave. "I want – fuck, Megumi, please just –"

He was half-way in, teetering on the verge of letting you have it as long as you could get the next sentence out.

"Say it."

"I want you inside me." It poured out so fast, it was barely even coherent. "I want you inside of m...e – so fu–cking bad, please."

Your chest pressed against his in an urgent daze, pulling him closer while his lips met yours - neither one of you able to withstand the tension for a second longer. His movements matched your fervency as he added another finger, finally letting your walls swallow him.

He deepened the kiss, trying his best to keep you quiet while your hips rocked rhythmically against him.

"So pretty and pitiful" he whispered, lightly nipping at your collarbone. "You're already almost there. You sure you can handle me being inside you?"

You nodded hopelessly back at him.

"I can... take – it." You struggled, feeling him smirk into your neck as his thumb brushed against your clit, drawing out even poutier noises from you. "Promise."

"Prove it."

His tongue swirled lavishly into the softness of your clavicle, leaving little bruises in the shape of his mouth while his fingers continued to plunge innnn and out of you at the same heavenly pace.

"There you go." He breathed, promptly returning his lips back to yours as he felt your thighs begin to shake. "Just like that, don't fucking stop."

You hated how well he knew you. Hated how easily he was able make you clench and spasm around him. You were soaking his hand, burying your face into his shoulder to stop yourself from waking up the entire house.

"Oh, my fucking... god, Megumi –" Your nails dug into his back, your body nearly vibrating with pleasure as you grinded against him.

“It's okay, I've got you." He whispered, letting you cling onto him as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. You'd always been submissive, but he wasn't sure that he'd ever seen you quite this needy before.

He slowly pulled out of you, guiding you down to the bed before standing up to grab the joint out of the ashtray, lighting it one last time.

He leaned down, locking eyes with you while gently cupping your face. His lips just barely touching yours so that you were forced to share the same breath, allowing you to inhale the smoke he exhaled as he helped you out of your shorts.

"Such a good girl."

Your back arched, immediately wanting him back where he was as he got to his feet and set the spliff on your nightstand. You watched him intently, your core throbbing while he began to unbutton his pants. You were blissfully high, your mind swirling with sleepy infatuation and pent-up lust.

He almost seeming amused, noticing how entranced you were as his stripped out of his boxers. Tauntingly stroking himself while he used his free hand to push your both of your thighs onto the mattress so that you were on your back facing him with your legs folded to the side. You couldn’t help but smile as he rubbed his tip between your folds, letting out a low groan as he wetted himself with your slick.

“Fuck, I forgot how good you feel.”

Your hand tangled into the sheets, your body reeling from the way his tip was already stretching you.

"You gotta stay quiet for me." He reminded you, trying to heed his own advice as he slid in slightly further. “Pretty sure your dad will actually kill me if he catches me here again."

"So you want me to scream?" You smirked, but your sarcasm was quickly stolen from you.

He cocked an eyebrow at you before leaning back down, his voice becoming salacious static against your ear. "Don't make threats you can't keep."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your cunt pulsating as he put a hand over your mouth and thrusted into you.

He returned your smirk. Watching your pupils double in size as he nipped at your neck, muffling your moans with his palm.

"It's not easy for me either." He whispered - one hand still on your mouth, the other reaching for your center. "Being this deep in you and not being able to hear you say my name."

Your knuckles were almost white from how hard you were gripping the bed, your mind and body both completely overwhelmed by fucked-out euphoria.

"To have you wrapped this nice and tight around my cock without getting to hear all the cute little noises you make for me." He slammed into you, his rhythm blissfully unforgiving.

"You think that's what I want?"

You shook your head, his hand catching more carnal whimpers that were trying so hard to spill out of you as your hips bucked up against his.

The feeling of him playing with your clit while having you folded like this was almost too much to handle. You were lost - floating somewhere above cloud 9 with his thrusts only ascending you higher.

"What do you think I want to hear, baby? Hm?" His tone was condescendingly sweet. Mocking in a way that made your heart stutter and your walls contract. "Tell me."

He loosened his grasp on you, nearly bottoming out as his name echoed uncontrollably across the room. "Megumi ~” You whined again, completely forgetting your surroundings. "Megumi, fuck, you're gonna make me –"

Your climax laced through his fingers as his hand swiftly flew back over your mouth. His arms keeping you locked in place while your body writhed beneath his.

“There it is”, He praised, his tip kissing your cervix at just the right angle. “There’s my fucking – girl.” His head lolled back, his release following right behind yours.

He buried his head into your shoulder this time, letting out the most gorgeous, guttural sounds you'd ever heard as he filled you - not stopping until he could see his cum dripping out of you.

He pulled out carefully, taking a moment to admire his work while a mixture of fluids leaked onto your comforter.

“Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair before looking back at you. "Do me a favor when you get back."

You were still catching your breath, dizzy from overstimulation as you met his gaze. "What do you need?” You panted.

"Tell your new boyfriend I said 'thanks'."

You narrowed your eyes at him, watching a stupid smirk cut across his face while he slid his pants back on. “If he would've known how to fuck you right, I might not have gotten the chance to see you."

"You're insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

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[maruflix]

05: how much i like you ⎯⎯ prev | masterlist

you are a promising new member of the third division who, for some reason, is always given a hard time by your vice-captain. to vent your frustrations you decide to reply to a twitter fanbase’s anonymous confession, only to find out that your post was not so anonymous after all...?!

Soshiro couldn’t believe his eyes.

His trembling hands almost dropped the phone when he hears three sharp knocks on his bedroom door, followed by a voice he knows all too well.

“Vice Captain? Sorry to bother you..”

Your voice is muffled slightly as he scrambles to his door, heart thundering against his ribcage, the realization finally dawning upon him. You’re actually here to see him.

You. The person he spent months pining, daydreaming— it’s not fair, you invade all his dreams, you won’t even let him sleep in peace.

“Vice Captain, are you there? Huh, I guess he’s asleep..”

Soshiro immediately slams his bedroom door open, revealing you, standing in front of his door with a shocked expression. “Uh— ’m still awake. Hi, Y/N.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, blushing scarlet.

“So...” you start, glancing up to sneak a peek at him. “you weren’t kidding, huh? You really l-like me?”

Soshiro raises his head and shifts his weight on one leg. You make him feel so self-conscious. He wonders if he looks okay with just a shirt and his uniform pants on. His hair is already messy— why did you have to come at such an hour?

“If you want to hear me make a fool of myself, come inside. I’ll be glad to tell you just how much I like you.”

You blink furiously, cheeks warm at the invitation.

The answer is obvious: you step inside his room, greeted by the warm air of his heater. Stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books litter his desk, papers folded neatly. His uniform jacket is splayed over his chair.

Soshiro closes the door with a click and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that it’s just the two of you together in one small room.

“I’ve been... quite childish, I admit.” Soshiro is oblivious to your flustered state, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been such an intolerable pain in the ass. Looking back, I guess it wasn’t the best way to get your attention in the way I intended...”

His apology seems so clumsy and yet so well thought out, like he’s practiced it several times. You can’t believe that the great Hoshina Soshiro is actually fidgeting nervously in front of you.

“I’ve already forgiven you.” Smiling, you bravely reach for his hand, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Soshiro’s eyes shot up to meet yours, gleaming in surprise.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t also have a tiny crush on you, because I do.” You ramble on, ”Okay, it’s actually a pretty huge crush. I have a huge crush on you.”

Soshiro couldn’t believe his ears. His hands tremble once more, squeezing yours with equal ferocity, rubbing circles on the base of your thumb. “You do?”

You giggle and nod. “Mhm.”

He pulls you into a hug, engulfing you in the scent of his cologne. He’s breathless when he buries his blushing face in your hair. “You do.”

Gently, his hands rest on your waist as he looks down at your smiling face.

You inch yourself higher, inviting him for a kiss.

And he kisses you on the lips, deeply, backing you to his bed to push you down. His hands are tangled up in your locks, bringing you closer to him. He tastes sweet, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth.

Your own hands make their way to his hair, tugging on them playfully. He groans, pulling away to give you a wolfish grin. Smiling, you peck his cheek. “So.. how much do you really like me? Because Narumi Gen told me you’re absolutely lovesick.”

Soshiro raised an eyebrow before biting your neck playfully, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. “Don’t say another guy’s name in my presence. As for how much I like you...” his hands wander further down, eyes twinkling up to you mischievously, “how about I show you?”

note: thank you for reading my first smau series! it’s been a good run, see you in the next one 🫡

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