#and everything is a cesspool. get me OUT

[archliches]

god if my basic needs were taken care of i would quit this job right now. right fucking now!!

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — eddie x fem reader (7.1k)

summary: 2011– your roommate drags you to a frat party and ditches the second she sees the guy she’s been fucking. left by yourself, you meet someone by accident, someone who isn’t in the fraternity 

warnings: smut, underage drinking, p in v, unprotected sex, grinding, dancing, eddie is trying to be cocky but he’s just awkward and silly

notes: i had a blast deep diving back into my hs and college days to reminisce with this. i hope if you were growing up during this time you can giggle along with me. love youuu oooh! also i hid some easter eggs in here (they’re not hidden at all)

The basement was steamy, and not in a ‘oh it’s a little warm in here but more like, every single person is drunk off their ass and the walls are sweating’kind of way.

College was everything you’d hoped it to be and more.

Your roommate, Kenzie was the type of girl who had an ‘open closet’ policy letting you wear her clothes almost more than your own. You weren’t too keen on sharing a dorm room with a girl you’ve never met before, but thankfully—you had gotten lucky. 

You had heard the horror stories from your older sister about her terrible roommate freshman year and you worried for most of the summer that you’d strike the same type of fortune. It wasn’t until you got a friend request on Facebook and a cheery little message : 

[Kenzie Walmen 2:07 PM: heyyyy roomie (;] 

that you knew you had nothing to worry about. 

She was from the west coast in sunny California, that bright western sky seeped deep into her personality. Kenz was sun kissed and bright haired, pretty ocean dipped eyes to give her the All-American type of aesthetic that most girls wished for. And maybe it was her laid back disposition, or her thrill for living it up and every hour of the day— that landed you here tonight at Delta Kappa Sigma. 

It wasn’t your scene.

You weren’t shy or new to getting drunk, you had even been so brave to take the occasional hit from a homemade bong in your neighbors dorm a few times, but the frat parties were known for their out of control Project X style of getting shitfaced. 

And something about guys with too much testosterone and too much Adidas cologne made your skin crawl and not in a good way. 

“Prints always look weird on me,” you grumble into the mirror eyeing your curves in a leopard lace tank top and black skirt, “is it too much?” 

Kenzie adjusts her off-the-shoulder top, adding a bit of shimmer powder to her exposed shoulder, “absolutely not, if anything it’s not enough.” Neon feathers decorate her bouncy curled hair as she eyes you in the mirror, “add that silver chunky necklace, and you’ll look bomb.” 

She was right, the necklace really pulled the entire look together, and if it were Halloween weekend you could even pass as a Spice Girl or maybe Snookie. 

“Sooo, is Steve gonna be there tonight?” You ask elongating the vowels in the aforementioned name, followed by some kissy faces and porn worthy moans. 

Kenzie rolls her eyes, a dusting of pink warming her cheeks, “yeah… about that. He said he has a “surprise” for me when I get there, so if I disappear, I’m just with him, okay?” 

“Wait wait wait—” you protest, holding a death grip clutch on a bottle of UV blue. “We aren’t even at the party yet and you’re already planning on ditching me?” 

— 

And that’s what got you here, a little more than drunk, holding a piss warm Green apple flavored Four Loko to your mouth, leaning against the corner basement wall in hopes to maybe disappear, wishing you were anywhere but in this cesspool of basement. 

The “DJ” (a frat guy wearing neon glasses with bars across them, scrolling through an ipod and a playlist more than likely named ‘Get Crunk’) was playing Kid Cudi, again. Everyone was screaming along to the chorus like he personally wrote it for them and their experience at college. A headache was brewing behind your eyes as the beat thumped loudly into your chest and radiated to your temples. 

Kenzie left almost immediately upon arriving. Swooped up and tossed over the broad shoulder of Steve the minute he answered the door. You laughed and shook your head, imagining how she was probably face down in navy cum stained sheets by now. 

The hours she spent on her hair and makeup went to waste, only being seen by the dead catalog eyes of Playboy’s finest from their pinned positions on the walls of Steve’s shared bedroom. 

Another sip from the overly carbonated beverage has you shuddering, the fiery ripple of fruit flavored [vomit] alcohol scouring through you like lava, causing your face to screw into a disgusted look.

How can people drink this shit? 

Your bladder screams at you to break the seal, demanding to find relief, immediately. The black lights were zero help in disguising if there were any doors that might lead into a bathroom. Pushing from the wall and taking the last hot sip from your drink, you navigate your way to the stairs. 

A table holding lone solo cups in formation from a forgotten beer pong game is now the proud owner of your empty can.

Weaving through the jungle of fist pumping douchelords and tipsy sorority girls making out for risqué facebook pics labeled [*~Freshman Y3ar!~*] you finally emerge from the sweaty pits of fraternity hell and climb the beer stained steps to the main floor. 

The monotonous beat from the music thumped a little less loudly up here, as if the noise was absorbed by the maroon colored carpeting and the oak cabinets in the foyer. 

The house was dated, decorated with a clash of orangey dark wood mixed with emeralds, dark reds and gold. As if this house was based out of Tuscany instead of midwest nowhere— complete with the rubbery fake fruit and vines that stood solely to collect dust. 

You had never been here before and didn’t know where in the hell to start looking to find the bathroom, and like Alice, you figured you might as well try every door knob in this type of Wonderland. 

The first door you peeked into looked like it was a formal dining room, but instead sat a television on the great oval table blasting obnoxiously loud as a pornstar moaned ripples of “pleasure” through her pink pout. Above her was an extremely tanned guy rocking a set of hard abs, thrusting in a slow rhythm that didn’t match her orgasm. 

A snicker slips from your lips and you gently pull the door closed with a small click, loud whoops and whistling from what you could only assume were a couple of frat guys erupt behind the door.

Watching porn together. 

You’ll have to add that to your growing list of things you didn’t know about the brotherhood behind a fraternity. 

The second door looked more hopeful as it was adjacent to the kitchen area. Upon nearly peeing down your leg, you were shocked stupid when you yanked the door open to find a closet housed with cleaning supplies. 

What the fuck? 

How could a frat house not have a bathroom? 

Your bladder squeezed in on itself and you were certain you couldn’t hold it any longer. Just short of giving up on this quest of relief and going back to your dorm, a gaggle of girls run down the steps leading to the top floor, where you could only assume the bedrooms were. 

“…why are frat bathrooms always so fucking dirty?!” 

Bingo.

Hustling up the never ending carpeted stairs, your bladder was on the brink of exploding as you shoved past a wooden door with a paper sign that read, “no jerking off in the shower!! pipes are clogged!” 

Your sandals clapped along the sea foam tiles floors as you slipped into one of the many metal stall doors. With a swift hike of your skirt up to your middle and pull of your panties, you were finally able to pee. 

A choir of angels sang the HallelujahHallelejuah chorus as you went and you sighed in relief that you had made it. 

“..yeah yeah, okay asshole,” a loud voice sounded from just outside the bathroom door frame, “you still owe me from last time,” the voice now echoed as it hit against the tiles and cement block walls, “no, payment is cold hard cash buddy, I don’t care if you have to dip into your trust fund.”  

A pair of black docs stomp into the tiled bathroom, nearing the stall you were in. There's no way he’ll come to this stall. 

“Tell daddy that you need more money for polos or Jordan’s— I really don’t give a fuck, but you need to pay the fuck up.” 

But as fate would have it…and in your hurry to get to the toilet before pissing all over yourself… and forgetting to lock the door in your haste… the stall door swings wide open— revealing a very bottomless you, to a pair of very wide dark, deer-in-the-headlight eyes. 

A beat that feels like an eternity passes, his hand is choked against his belt in a yank to unthread it, his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. Your hands fly to cover yourself the best you can, panties still at your ankles, skirt still around your midsection. 

It’s all yells and screams with this random guy stumbling over himself dropping his phone on the ground and spewing, “Shit! Sorry! Sorry!” and you yelling for him to shut the fucking door already. 

His apologies don’t stop as he pulls the door closed, and from the other side of it as you pull up your underwear and adjust your skirt. 

“I swear! I didn’t think anyone was in there! I promise!” 

Your face burns in embarrassment as you contemplate melting into the floor and becoming one with the poorly aimed piss stains and the dirty grout. As good as that sounds you still have to leave, you still have to pass the guy who just saw your bare vag and you still have to navigate your way out of here. 

His phone lays face down on the floor, and you pray it isn’t broken for his sake. You pick it up, flipping it over to see that it scathed by with just a fine crack from one corner to another. His screen saver is a picture of a group of guys in a skatepark in the dark, smoke billowing thickly to cover their faces as they stand on the boards, the one with dark longer hair is shirtless, and painted with tattoos. 

“Shit,” you breathe quietly, “your phone is cracked.” 

You can see the shadows of his feet pacing back and forth but when you speak they stop, “oh..,” he mumbles, clearing his throat a bit, “umm, yeah, no biggie it was broke like that already.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah— hey, if you wanna slide that under the door I can um, let you ..ahem.. finish up in there.” 

Shit. Duh he needed his phone, and you were just holding it hostage in here as your shame hung thickly in the air. God this might really couldn’t get any fucking worse.

A deep breath in through your nose, you fake a mask of confidence and open the stall door. 

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he barged in on you, but now in the fluorescent dust covered light you dared to look a little longer at him. 

Long locks of honeyed brown locks fell onto the tops of his shoulders, covered with a green plaid flannel that hung open showing his neck and a flick of dark lines from a tattoo hidden under a black band tank top. His eyes were just as brown, round and flocked with a grove of thick lashes. Clearly he was the shirtless one in his background picture. 

He smiled sheepishly, pulling his jaw taunt as he averted his gaze to the toe of his boots, noticing your hand stretched out before him to give him back his phone, he glanced at your face, skimming his hand over your palm.

“Thanks— uh…” he started, shifting his weight to lean back against the many rows of sinks, “sorry again, I promise I don’t normally walk in on ladies using the facilities.” 

His eyes met yours and you instantly felt a heat run to your throat, his lips were impossibly plump as he drew them into a tight smirk. 

Fuck are those dimples? Of course they were. God he’s so pretty. 

You smile, “normal people lock the stall, but I was in a hurry… well I was lost!” you exclaim in a huff, fully hands on hips annoyed, “why the fuck would the bathroom be on the top floor?” 

You asked him incredulously like he should know. But on second thought…

“uhh… I dunno,” he shrugs, sliding his phone into the front pocket of his light wash colored jeans, not even looking at the broken screen as he leaned back again, “I’m not exactly an architect.”  

“But you live here?” you question, turning on the sink to wet your hands, “haven’t they ever thought of putting even a half bath on the main floor?” 

He rumbles out a laugh that makes your cheeks tingle, your buzz still in full force, “nah, you got it all wrong, I’m not a member of the ‘fraternity brotherhood of Alpha Mega Steroid’”, he jokes with air quotes, smiling wide when your lips tick up at the ends. “But I am a frequent guest, of sorts…”

This guy seemed to be one of those people who can make a nun blush, witty and dripping with a sexual charm that radiated from him like a ray of fucking sunshine. And fuck that grin of his. You’re in trouble. 

“Ahh, okay,” you banter back easily, shaking your hands to dry them since there were no paper towels in sight, “which one is your boyfriend? Let’s see I know.. Kyle? I think is his name, reddish hair, kinda feminine hands, or are you fucking Steve because I gotta say, I think my roommate might be giving you a run for your money right now.” 

Eddie’s eyes light up, a quirk in his brow as he asks, “Blonde girl? Kinda naive, head over heels for that mop of perfectly styled hair? Shit, what’s her name…Kelly? Kitten? She’s your roommate?” 

Of course he would know her, Kenzie knows everyone, and seems to leave a kind of impression on people that you envied. As bright as she shined, you were the shadow behind her. 

“Yeah,” you say, not hiding your annoyance, remembering how you got into this predicament in the first place. 

Eddie looks just as pissed as you’re feeling, “Oh, Stevie boy and I will be having words later on his lack of tact. They’re the reason why I was out wondering the halls like a fuckin’ ghost in a haunted mansion.” 

He takes note that you’re in the same boat he’s in but in your case, it’s a little worse, being a girl alone in a frat house never ends well. 

“I’m Eddie, uhh…designated dealer,” he says in almost a whisper, “for the deep pocketed asshoels full of daddy’s money.”

You connect a few dots, realization hitting hard in your frontal lobe from conversations you’ve kind of listened to from Kenzie about Steve. 

“Ahh, okay… now that you mention it, Kenz has talked about you before. You’re Steve’s old friend, Munson? I thought she meant like a forty year old or something.”

He laughs, loud and belly rolling like, “nah, minus a twenty from that. Steve and I are just close friends ‘s all… and no, not boyfriends.” 

You laugh then, all bubbly and light hearted that has his own skipping beats. Saying your name, he repeats it, a little grin on his face that he tries to hide, “mm that’s cute.” 

“Cute?” you question, an eyebrow raised as you fold your arms in on themselves, poking a hip out. 

“Yeah… cute,” he says standing fully and peering down at you, “your name is very fitting for you.” 

You roll your eyes playfully at his flirty words. Even though your stomach is somersaulting at the way his eyes seem to drip from heaven when he looks at you, your cheeks heating beneath his gaze.

“Is this the part where we exchange our hometowns and majors, because I’d rather get run over than do that right now.” 

Eddie chuckles, “oh yeah, well I’m actually here on an athletic scholarship.” 

“Really?” you question, eyebrows cocked in disbelief. 

“Yes!” Eddie jokes back, trying to bite back a smile, “if you must know it’s for Tennis, but please don't bother me for an autograph. I'm just trying to be a normal guy tonight.” 

“Noted.” You giggle, admiring the way this banter is coming so easily, maybe it was the liquid courage taking over or the fact that he was actually fun to talk to— either way, this night is starting to take a turn for the better.

“So, what does a Tennis star/designated rich boy drug dealer usually do at these kinds of things besides bursting in on girls using the bathroom?” 

He smiles, dipping his chin and looking at you through those impossibly thick lashes. Pushing off the sink he asks, “Sell a little here and there, sometimes dip into my own stash…what do you usually do at these things?” 

“Well,” you tease, twisting on the ball of your foot and heading towards the door out to the hallway, “I’m not usually at these things.”

“Ohh my god,” Eddie preens in his best valley girl/ Kourtney Kardashian impression, “you’ve never been to frat party!?” 

You smile, at his stupid joke, “Noo, I haven’t actually. Kenzie drug me out for a little pick me up after we bombed our History midterm, to…y’know— live it up— YOLO, all that.”

“Okay okay, letting off some steam after the stress of class, I get it...school was never a cake walk for me either.” 

“Yeah! But then your friend snatched her up, and since I don’t know anyone here… I was doing a very impressive wall flower guise, until my bladder interrupted that… and then a guy barged in on me in the bathroom.” 

Eddie stalks towards you, his eyes roving over your body, “Well… now you know me, soo Miss Lady Wallflower,” he cracks, “shall we descend to the basement and keep this party going?” 

His infectious smile stretches wide, practically ear to ear and you find yourself grinning just as wide, trying to twist your lips to at least hide your enthusiasm a little bit but goddamn— something about the way those dimples compliment the fucking christmas twinkle in his eyes.. ugh. 

He was trouble. The kind you had always craved but never dabbled in. But when in Rome…

“Lead the way.”

—

Eddie had made a pit stop in the large kitchen before returning to the basement. 

“Now sweetheart,” he purred, fishing around the shelves, of a pantry, moving cans of food and bags of chips, “I didn’t plan on drinking more tonight, but I’m not gonna let you drink by your— aha!” 

Eddie stands upright, brandishing a large box of saltine crackers. Your eyebrows furrow in response and he bows low, puts his hand inside the box, “I present to you, Stevie’s not so secret hiding spot,” pulling out his hand, his fingers are wrapped around a bottle of Burnett’s Vodka.  

Your eyes widen with devilish glee as you smirk, “how did you know it’d be there?” 

Eddie unscrews the cap and puts it to his lips for a long six second pull. 

You weren’t watching the way his throat bobbed and gulped when he swallowed each burning swig. Nope, not at all. You definitely weren’t memorizing each valley of cords and muscles as a single drop fell to his sharp chin and jaw. Never, not you!

And you weren’t holding your breath right along with him only breathing when those fucking glorious thick lips popped clean from the mouth of that bottle… his lips shiny from the bitter alcohol like a gloss you desperately need to lick clean. Yeah… no. that was not you…

So it’s only fitting when he speaks hoarsely and clears his throat that you are snapped back to the moment, your core keeping its own pulse. 

“He’s been keeping vodka in the same box in a food pantry since we were in high school, guy is the most unoriginal bastard I know,” he shrugs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and you can’t help but almost pout in the wasted opportunity. 

His eyes meet yours and they look just as hungry as you were feeling. He smirks crookedly and you practically flatline from the depth those molasses colored eyes hold. He moved first, inching towards you like a wolf stalking its prey, your pretty chapstick smile daring him to come closer. 

But the fuse between you is snuffed out cold as a crying girl erupts from the basement steps, her gaggle of friends helping calm her down as they leave the house. 

Eddie shakes his head and clears his throat as if he was just as bothered by you as you were of him. Turning towards the fridge he asks, “I’m sure they’ve got some Sunny D you can chase this with if that’s cool?” 

—

The basement proved to be in the same situation you had left it in: hot, sweaty, sticky. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes hotly behind you, loud enough to hear him above the music, “it’s like a furnace down here, no wonder that girl was crying.”

You lead him to the corner you were tucked in before, your drink still sitting on the beer pong table. By the way he is standing you can tell that this really isn’t his scene either, but after a while of passing the vodka and orange juice back and forth between you, he seems to loosen up a bit. His shoulders relax as his back leans against the wall next to you. 

Eddie’s words slurring together as his stories became more and more animated, and you giggle along, never taking your eyes off of him. Completely enamored. 

Your stomach burned with a flurry of butterflies when a few of his clients came up to him to buy, each more nervous than the next. Eyeing you suspiciously, questioning if you were some sort of a narc. 

Eddie stepped ahead of you, his shoulders squared and chest out to casually announce that you were cool and were with him. 

You didn’t know that he was waiting for you to object to it, to shove away from him and call him a pig for even assuming that you’d ever be seen with the likes of him besides in the dark, but you never did. 

Hours pass and the music just gets worse. Wiz Khalifa starts singing about colors and Eddie looks at the crowd of people grinding and rolls his eyes. 

The alcohol has you feeling tingly, a buzzing of flirtation sparks your blood and you are closer to Eddie than ever, the smell of his musky cologne and laundry detergent invade you.

Like any drunk girl, you start getting antsy, a little more touchy, and a lot more feely. Standing around isn’t cutting it anymore and you want to move, toss your hair back to some cheesy song, want to feel those hands you’ve been staring at all night run along your body as your hips move against him. 

Running your forefinger along the inside seam of Eddie’s flannel shirt, you look up at him through your lashes. 

“I’m assuming you’re not one to dance to a club remix?” 

Eddie watches your finger stroke up and down, your knuckles barely grazing his abdomen, but the small touch sending electricity to his spine. 

He leans into you, following your lead and pinching the hem of your skirt between his large fingers “you’d assume correct, the music I listen to is a little more head bangy than this.” 

“So,” you say coyly, pulling him towards you just a fraction more, “what you’re really saying is that you can’t dance.” 

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back, his throat sticky with sweat and the hair by his ears wet and curling into ringlets, “oh I can dance my ass off honey, taught Channing Tatum everything he knows.” 

His hands find your hips, and you almost lose the little bit of confidence you have gained when the warmth of them seeps through your shirt, his blunt nails skimming your skin in small strokes.

“Do these little white lies masked as dorky ass pickup lines work for you?” Your hands are on his chest now, the black light illuminating each letter of his Deftones shirt to sparkle like snow beneath your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers into your ear, pulling you tight against him so your chest is pressed into his, “you tell me.” 

The music changes and a throwback song  

comes on, one you haven’t heard in years. 

“Guess you’ll have to show me those moves, because in typical drunk girl fashion… this is my song!” 

You grab Eddie’s hand and stomp to the middle of the floor, pulling him along with you until you’re shoulder to shoulder with other drunk and sweaty college kids. 

“Get low?” Eddie asks from behind you, his mouth dangerously close to the shell of your ear as his hands land heavy on your hips, “seriously?” 

Leaning your head back so your lips could reach him you talk loud enough just so he can hear you, “stop talking and fucking dance with me already.” 

“Goddamn…” he groans when you finally push your body fully back into him. 

It’s sloppy and horribly uncoordinated the way your drunken hips move beneath his hands. You’re both swaying along with the music, trying like hell to match the rhythm of everyone else around you. But in the tiny square footage you have in this cluster fuck of a space, Eddie has all the right moves. 

His palms are pressing you tighter into him, making sure you can feel just how hard he is, how hard you are making him. 

Courage and a few prom night dances under your belt have you dropping low and coming up slow, your skirt fanning out the tiniest bit as your knees are bent to the ground.

And Eddie is practically thanking God himself when you run the fattest part of your ass up his body, on the bunched denim by his shins, skimming the barely there fabric of your skirt against the hole in his knee, and finally up where he desperately needs your body the most. 

When you come back up he moves your hair from the side of your neck, his lips puckering around your earlobe as he nibbles lightly, “spin around so I can see you.” 

He groans again when you shake your head and laugh at his dismay, as much as he is turned on and bothered you are too, but the power of keeping him like this, teasing him with your body— turned you on even more. 

You snake your hands upwards seductively, landing daintily at the nape of his neck, twirling the wet tendrils of curls round and round pulling gently. Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hands roaming freely from your hips to your ribcage running them along the length of your sides, bruisingly hard. 

One minute you’re facing away from him, eyes closed in pleasure as he roves over your body, his lips pressed to your neck, and in the next he’s spinning you around so that you’re face to face— eyes locked on eachother, the heat and the alcohol and the endorphins are too much to handle. 

Your once labored breathing snuffs out to nothing when he leans in with licked lips his eyes fixated on your mouth. Standing. Staring. Staring and standing. You’ve had enough of this cat and mouse game. 

“Fucking kiss me alrea—”

His mouth with its plush pillow lips slam into you. He tastes like tart orange juice and a bite of alcohol. Like the way a summer day would taste if it were bottled up. He licks into your mouth and you whine for more of him, clutching onto his neck and pulling him further into you. 

When you break for air it’s loud, smacking lips and lapping tongues, tilting your heads to line up perfectly. When you twist yours again, Eddie holds onto your neck angling it just so with a glint of trouble in those whiskey eyes as he dives into the supple skin at the column of your throat. 

Sucking, swirling— his tongue is hot against you and you’re clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the pilling fabric like he was the only thing keeping you Earthbound. 

You wiggle in his arms, squealing and whining out but he’s holding you tightly against him, moaning words into your neck that you can’t hear above the music. Then he’s on your mouth again, working you into a fit. His big veiny hands move along your back, grabbing your ass softly, then work up to wrap in your hair or lightly scratch at the inch of skin between your skirt and your tank top. 

Doing your own little damage to him, his shirt is shoved up over his chest, your fingernails trailing down his tattooed skin. A rise of goosebumps following in their tracks, and he stops kissing you to suck in a breath, your smile on his lips as you laugh and he whispers a breathy ‘fuuuuck’. 

Your fingers trail down to his waist band, tickling his skin as you suggest an idea with your eyes, one that you’re certain he would understand.

“C’mon,” he mouths, gesturing his chin to the exit as he slowly begins to pull you from the dance floor, up the stairs and into the kitchen area.

Eddie knew what he wanted. Knew it the second you walked out of that stall with that sweet fucking smile on your lips, shy and coy when he called your name cute, like you weren’t at all used to the type of attention he was giving.

And maybe you didn’t want this with him. Maybe you were a: ‘fuck-me-in-the-dark-so-I-won’t-be-embarrassed-by-being-seen-with-you’ type of girl, but you did dance with him, you laughed at his stupid jokes, stuck by him almost all night, but still he needed to be sure. 

He thought maybe in the brighter light you’d change your mind about what you wanted, what you needed from him, but you surprise him when you cling to his side, going up the steps, and backing into a wall pulling him with you by his shirt needily when you reach the top.

“D’ you uh..wanna get outta here?” he slurs, almost sleepily, his bangs fucked up beyond belief, his hair drenched and sticky with sweat and humidity, lips swollen red.

“My dorm isn’t far,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes running your finger along the waist of his jeans, “across campus.” 

Eddie chuckles, “fuck…” he sweeps a thumb over your pouted lips, groaning as he bites his own. “I’d crawl to fuckin’ Alaska for these, honey.” 

Your cheeks burn sweetly from his inebriated compliments. And even though you’re tipsy and so is he, you feel an odd sort of comfort with him—one you haven’t experienced before. 

“Let’s go then,” you whisper into his ear, “I want you inside me.” 

That did it for him. 

Eddie was all but running with you across the campus green, but not before taking off his long sleeved shirt and placing it over your shoulders murmuring how it was freezing and you’d probably get sick. 

Your combined laughter ricocheted off concrete forums and neatly trimmed grass. Passing by the fancy Chemistry Lab building, the Art Museum, the Med School and finally to your painted black brick dorm building: “Wheeler Hall” 

“Here’s home,” you sing out, placing your key into the door and pulling on the steel handle. 

The Wheeler Dorms were the newest addition to the college town. Named after a family that was killed in an accident back in the 80’s or something… you didn’t really remember what happened. 

The side door you had come in through was closest to your room, 011, on the first floor, again, the universe being kind to you. 

“Never been here before,” Eddie said looking around with wide eyes, “any of the dorms actually.” 

You smiled upon unlocking your room and entering, hanging up your keys on the command strip hooks by the door. Whatever confidence he had back at the party is now deflated a bit once he realizes just how different the two of you are. What the hell was he doing here? You’re in college, he’s only here because he deals. 

“Uhh..?” he questions, eyeing the lofted bed, “you know I was joking about being an athlete, right?” 

You giggle and toss your purse onto the futon, “relax, that’s Kenzie’s bed, mine is the shorter one.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” he practically sings letting out an over exaggerated sigh as he plops down on your futon, eyeing the leopard throw blanket, “I may look like a suave Casanova but I’m about as agile as Mr. Bean.” 

Laughter fills the room and you click on a lamp throwing the room into a cozy ambience as you slip off your sandals and sit on your bed, leaning forward, “you’re way hotter than him.” 

Eddie blushes a bubble gum pink sheen, using his still damp and unruly hair to cover his face, “keep being sweet on me see where it gets you.” 

“Is that supposed to be a threat, or a promise?”

“Oh baby, I don’t make threats, not to a girl that’s like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“Yeah you,” he deadpans, standing up and waltzing towards your bed, crowding you in, “funny, sexy, and by some greater power— digs me… at least I hope.” 

“I’m not the type of girl to bring a guy back to my place, Eddie,” you nearly whisper, putting a finger into his dangling necklace and pulling him forward, “you’d be the first.” 

Eddie places his hands next you on the bed, “like your first? Or just here in college first, I’m cool with either I just— are you sure you want this? I can leave if y—”

Cutting him off you kiss him, but not like the heavy kisses earlier when you two were making out like you were each other's oxygen masks, this one is sweet, like melted  sugar on Eddie’s tongue. 

“You talk too much,” you say with a warm smile, wrapping a finger around his curled ends of hair, “no more of that, just kiss me.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist and shifts you up further into the bed, laying your head on a pillow his body pressed into yours. He takes his time with you, kissing your lips then your jaw, working his way down your neck to where the bruises he’s already sucked into your skin were painted. 

Your moans and little breathy sighs have him hard against his zipper, his hips bucking into the tiny fabric of your panties that’s covering up that sweet pussy he got a glimpse of earlier. 

His shirt is somewhere on the floor, you had pried it off of him between locked lips and groans of having to move your lips from his that earned you a throaty laugh from him and the sexiest eyes that drove into you with an intense ferocity. 

He lowers further down your body, kissing every inch, moving your tank top out of the way to eye your orange bra, his mouth between your cleavage, moaning about how orange is now his favorite color. 

Eddie’s everywhere all at once, a hand traveling up and down your thigh, from the crux of your knee to the waistband of your skirt, the other hand is popping your tits out from that new found favorite colored bra of his —smiling wickedly at your peaked nipples. 

You moan lustful bliss as his tongue circles each one, giving equal attention to both, “you like that?” he asks.

“Feels so good,” you whine, “more, please.” 

Eddie smirks with your nipple between his teeth, “don’t have to ask me twice.” 

You weren’t a virgin, but holy shit you felt as if you had never had sex before, well never sex like this. Eddie teased you with his fingers, his thumb rubbing your clit while his fingers pumped inside of you, each curling inward towards a place nobody has reached before. 

He groaned with his bottom lip tucked between his sharp bite rubbing his achy cock through his jeans when you pushed your skirt down laying there in a matching orange lacey thong, bedazzled on the hips. 

“Would it be corny if I say you look like a Goddess?” he asks sheepishly, pinching the stretching fabric around your hips, “because… wow.” 

You bite your finger as if you were really thinking hard on this, hiding a smile, “you’re too much, Munson.”

“Too much?” he scoffs, pulling down your panties and settling himself between your legs, “you haven’t even seen my dick yet.”

You sit up, tits out and naked from the waist down, “well by all means, show me.”

“Greedy girl,” Eddie smirks, “did you bring me here just to get me naked? I’m appalled!” 

You move to your knees, sitting upright a bit so your face is level with his. You kiss him softly, moving to his neck and sucking just right to pull those deep moans from him that make your knees shake. 

Feather light touches skate along the expanse of his chest, working down down down until you’re undoing his belt, thumbing open the button on his jeans and yanking down his zipper.  

When your hand slides between him and his boxer briefs,  Eddie hisses, watching you pump him slow and tight. The feel of your smooth palm against his velvety shaft makes him almost cum right there and then, it’s been awhile since the last time. 

But you’re not hesitating or questioning yourself and he isn’t either. It’s almost fluid like a rocking wave the way Eddie lays you down, a team effort to swiftly shove down his jeans so you can finally feel eachother where the desperation is needed most. 

Legs hiked over his hips, he lines himself up with your gummy slicked entrance. It’s a deep and achy stretch for you, a vice grip for him. The lazy gasping moans you both emit are drawn out, yours practically breathless. 

“Holy fuck,” you breath into his mouth as he peppers you with kisses. He drags his hips out at a measured pace, pushing in just as unhurriedly, enjoying the way your body adjusts, cuffing him like a glove. 

Eddie breaks away from your lips to watch your bodies join together, moaning your name as he presses his forehead on yours collecting your mouth with his. 

“Shit…This okay?” he asks earnestly, nipping at your ear. 

You nod in gasping silence, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he speeds up. Your hands are skimming down his bareback, pressing him further into you with every thrust, begging him for more. 

He snakes a hand between you, rubbing circles in your puffy clit as he thrusts harder, trying to get you there before he loses all control. “Want you to feel good sweetheart, fuck— keep making those pretty little noises, you’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.” 

And he does. You cum hard around him, your walls fluttering and pulsing so fast you practically black out from the mixed pleasure of his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock stuffed in deep. 

His name falls from your lips in tiny little whines and he bucks into you a hard and final time before he groans, holding onto your headboard for support as he’s bottoming out, stringing rope after rope of hot spend inside of you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, “God—” he stops cold, realizing what he just did and what he didn’t do. “Oh shit, fuck fuck fuck! I didn’t pull out, I'm sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!

You laugh wickedly, your body shaking beneath him at his worried panicked face. 

He’s a babbling, out-of-breath mess, “’s not funny! I just got caught up in the moment and you felt so fucking good and I’m still a little dru—”

“Eddie, it’s fine,” you say, holding his cheeks with both hands squishing them together so his lips pucker like a fish, “I’m on the pill.” 

His face is still squished together when he speaks, “oh, well… okay.” 

“You’re fine,” you coo, coaxing him down from the ledge of regret and self hatred, “I—” you lean up and kiss him square on the mouth, licking into it and sliding your tongue against his, “I liked it.” 

His eyebrows disappear into his bangs and before he can open his mouth to speak you’re pulling him onto you kissing him deep and needy. 

The two of you end the night that way, him holding you, your hands in his hair, kissing so much your lips are chapped— never getting enough. Legs entangled together like a weaved basket. You fall asleep before he does, your little huffed breathing making his skin damp as you curl further into his chest. 

Wonder if Verizon is open tomorrow? He thinks when he remembers that his phone is definitely broke from it landing on the bathroom floor—but he’d never tell you that. 

He also wouldn’t tell you how he was supposed to go back to Steve’s tonight because they were leaving to see another old friend in California for the weekend— or how they needed to be at the airport by 2 AM for a 4 AM flight.  — or that Eddie was Steve’s ride because he lost his license in July. 

Nope.

He wouldn’t tell you any of it. None of that seemed to matter when you were sleeping so cute on his chest like that. 

When late morning comes you’re at it again, this time you’re riding him on the futon, slow like a twangy country song his hands rocking your hips. When you both finish you drag him to the showers, pumping some expensive shampoo into his hair and giggling when you tell him to be quiet so you won’t get caught. 

Steve called Eddie’s phone all night, and all morning, sending duplicate texts of rage, wondering where the fuck he had gone. 

Eddie silences the last call from Steve as you’re getting dressed, wearing a black pair of yoga pants and a zip up hoodie. He smiles when you offer to comb his hair, grabbing your wrist to pull you onto his lap kissing behind your ear. 

His voice is low, soothingly sweet and minty from your toothpaste as he asks, “can I take you to breakfast?” 

[malfoysanctuary]

Sovereign of My Heart

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: He’s ruthless with words, unbothered by the world, and crowned with a superiority only he could wear like armor, but around you, Theodore Nott is all reckless devotion and quiet adoration. Loving him is like loving a storm, dangerous, all-consuming, but utterly, irrevocably beautiful.

There were few things Theodore Nott cared about in this world.

His black ink quill, sharpened like a dagger, moving lazily across parchment. The precise art of making someone cry from a single, sarcastic comment. And you.

Mostly you.

At first, it was subtle—the glances when he thought you weren’t looking, the way he gravitated toward the seat beside you even when the room was full. His friends teased him mercilessly, calling him whipped under their breath. Theo only answered them with a slow, impassive blink that said say another word and die.

Today was no different.

You sat cross-legged on the grass near the Black Lake, finishing an essay for Potions. Theo was sprawled beside you, an arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily twirling his wand between his fingers. His tie was undone, shirt slightly rumpled, and he wore the air of a king surveying a kingdom far beneath him.

“Tell me again why you think Felix Felicis is unethical?” you asked, chewing your lip thoughtfully.

Theo smirked, the slow, dangerous kind that always made your stomach flip. “Because it’s cheating, darling. You should know—I don't need luck to get what I want."

His gaze flicked to you pointedly. You pretended not to notice how his fingers stilled on his wand.

You shoved his shoulder lightly. "You're unbearable."

"And yet," he drawled, voice like molasses, "you’re still here. Fascinating."

You rolled your eyes, trying (and failing) not to smile. Theo noticed, of course. He always noticed. Every twitch of your lips, every glance, every heartbeat that stuttered in your chest because of him.

When you bent over your essay again, he leaned up on one elbow, studying you openly, shamelessly, as if you were something rare he was entitled to admire.

There was a sharp cry from across the lake—Pansy Parkinson, whining loudly at Draco about something. Theo’s eyes didn’t even flicker toward the sound.

Instead, he muttered, almost to himself, "Pathetic."

"Be nice," you teased, scribbling a line of notes.

"Why?" Theo said, deadpan. "They're exhausting. You, on the other hand—" He let his voice trail off deliberately, watching the way your cheeks pinked. "You're the only decent thing about this cesspool."

You lifted your head, laughing. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you’re naive if you think I'm joking," he said simply.

The thing about Theo wasn’t that he loved softly. He didn’t. He loved the way he did everything else—with deliberate, searing intensity. There was no hiding it, no masking it. It was in the way he stood too close, how his scathing remarks melted into almost reverent affection when they were aimed at you.

Theo loved shamelessly.

It was terrifying.

It was beautiful.

You packed your things as the sun dipped lower, golden streaks lighting up the lake. Theo watched you in that unbothered way of his, but you caught the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you.

Finally, he stood and offered a hand.

You took it without thinking.

His fingers closed around yours—long, calloused, unyielding—and for a second, the whole world faded into something simple and bright.

You stepped closer, so close you could see the faint freckles dusted across his sharp cheekbones, the careless tumble of dark hair over his forehead.

"You're staring," you murmured, breath catching.

"And?" he said, tilting his head like he dared you to call him out.

You shook your head fondly. Theo Nott had never cared about rules. He only cared about you.

Suddenly, his mouth curved in a slow, devastating grin—the one that always preceded some cutting comment that would destroy anyone else in his path.

"You're lucky you're pretty," he said smoothly. "Otherwise, I'd have crushed your spirit by now like I do everyone else's."

You laughed out loud, stepping into his chest without hesitation. His arms came around you immediately, fitting you against him like you were the one thing he'd protect in a world he otherwise found utterly worthless.

"You’re awful," you whispered into the soft cotton of his shirt.

He pressed a kiss into the crown of your head. "For everyone else," he murmured. "Never for you."

And that was the terrifying truth.

In a world Theo ruled with sharpened words and a superiority complex he wore like a second skin, you were the exception. You were the axis he spun on.

Everyone could see it—the way his eyes softened for you, the way he became almost reckless in his devotion. His protectiveness wasn't loud. It was brutal in its quietness.

Later that evening, you walked back to the castle, hand in hand. Several people stared—whispered.

Theo didn't blink.

He only lifted his chin higher, daring anyone to say a single thing.

No one did. They wouldn’t dare.

Because Theodore Nott didn’t fall for anyone. And everyone knew—he’d fallen for you so completely, he hadn’t even tried to catch himself.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)

[hermitcraftx]

the only reason dream everrrr had a platform or was popular is bc everyone made thirst traps of. his blond fake sona for years (he has fucking BROWN HAIR???) and then when he revealed he was a pedophile creepy weirdo right after he revealed his face everyone that made a career making daddy dream manhunt NSFW didn't stop blogging because some people would fuck steaming piles of human garbage if it was white and had abs. like every dream stan I've ever met is perpetually living in 2021 and dream is too and if that's not the biggest sign of the world's most colossal fumble I don't know what is. genuinely the only talent dream has is being uncannily manipulative and vague to try and get away with everything and play the victim later on after he says genuine rancid dogshit but he's not even the best at that. genuinely he's the definition of a career made by other people and if he thinks for a second his little white suburban fake redneck yuppy mr beast wannabe that he's going to successfully be a right wing grifter after being known as the gogy wogy uwu yaoi queerbait streamer (and yes I do think he's genuinely the ONLY real person that word applies to) then he's fucking insane. ain't nobody fucks with him. he's a footnote in Minecraft history. the worst people alive in the community don't fuck with him. tommyinnit is having tea with jacksepticeye and doing comedy shows and having fun with all the remaining good internet ogs and regularly pulling lots of views meanwhile the only way dream stays relevant out of his cesspool wretch infested pedophile apologist echo chamber that is his fanbase is regularly triggering dsmp drama to feel sorry for himself. can't do manhunt without cheating and it wasn't even an original idea another abuser took that from him can't do an smp tommyinnit made that for him it really seems to me on a psychological level that to a degree some of that cdream shit wasn't roleplay because dream knew the most memorable part of the biggest part of his career would be tommyinnit forever and always. and now he has to fight for tommyinnit beef scraps saying slurs and shit when he's not even involved getting way too comfortable after Trump gets elected when tommy barely pays him more mind than he paid Logan Paul when he WORKED with dream for YEARS. tommyinnit gets to be known as the man who fostered love and care for his fan base, an all around good person and joy to be around and a ray of light in the dark space that is the mcyt space, and a guy never backed down on his morals and ethics whereas dreams only claim to fame now are being a cheating bigoted ableist creepy pedophile-esque freak with no concept of proper boss/employee conduct or creator/fan conduct with a Republican bastard and a sexual assaulter as friends who was seen as mildly hot by teenagers in 2021 without y'know being able to comprehend you're not supposed to reciprocate. and I know it keeps him up at night because otherwise he wouldn't try and regain relevancy by starting shit with Tommy every 6 months. is it because tommy is an adult now, clay??? when people look back on fond memories of fandom in 20-30 years not a single person will be able to look at anything dream has been apart of without grimacing not even his fans because I know all those arguments on behalf of a nasty ass pervert will not be fond memories. the only original thing he's done is say the r slur- oh wait. I mean groom minors- oh wait. I mean be a bigoted racist- oh wait. I mean have gross misconduct with a fan- oh wait. I mean start drama a lot in hopes of getting attention- oh wait. genuinely the most pathetic shadow nothingburger ass of a man I've ever seen in my life may dogs eat his face off in the middle of the night.

[beeboopneep]

:)

I firmly believe that the batfam would be a half-decent family to be adopted into while not knowing about their Nighttime Activities TM... at least in the beginning.

Lets say that Kiddo gets dropped off after the death of their last guardian (mother, most likely) and somehow the cops get their hands on a letter or something that says that Kiddo is Bruce Wayne's biological child. CPS wouldn't DNA test a child otherwise, but with some sort of evidence they may. Either way, something tells me that as soon as Bruce was notified of the possible child he would get the test done lol. While that processes the kid would end up in foster care (yikes! Gotham foster care is def rough af) whether Bruce is a foster father or not (that sounds like a problematic placement and he'd probably have to pull strings if he wanted to take care of them during this time). So, for 3-14 days an already traumatized, possibly orphaned child waits in limbo in a cesspool of a foster system. Trauma on top of trauma. And then the results come back and Yay! You've got a daddy!

So they pack up everything and go live with the People's Billionaire who they have definitely seen scandals of on the news before. Can you imagine the thoughts going through their head at the time? Are the other kids gonna bully me? Does he even want biological kids? Is he abusive? Neglectful? Pervy?? Does he really drink that damn much and fall in that many damn fountains?!?

And then they'd meet him and he'd be... stoic? And awkward and kind of cold? Which they could definitely take wrong (Bruce is emotionally inept, not malicious) and assume he hates them off the bat. They withdraw, straining themselves and the barely-there relationship more. The ink's still fresh on their adoption and they already want to leave.

Anyway, lets say things pick up. They meet Dick, the emotional center of the household, and then Jason, their caring (if abrasive) older brother, and so on. They start to find their place. Maybe they still struggle to warm up to Bruce or really feel like on of his kids, especially since everyone else seems so comfortable.

But Dick invites them to get ice cream and burgers and whatever else just as an excuse to spend time with them and make sure they're adjusting well (or enough to be expected). Jason teaches them to punch and how to finally get A's on the English assignments, and how to actually like their English assignments. He buys them fancy bookmarks and they pretend not to notice that he has the same one (they match!). Tim comes to them whenever he finds out a new fact he thinks they'll like and lets you pull coffees out of his hands without too much complaint after he's surpassed his daily limit (he only gives a grumble and an affectionate look) Cass teaches Kiddo all the best places to hide during hide-and-seek and pulls you into her side during movie nights. Cass makes sure you always have someone to eat with if them want it and brings back food whenever she's out. After some work, Damian even lets you help him train Titus!

But they still can't quite settle in because... where did everyone go at night?

If Kiddo's home situation before wasn't exactly ideal then they'd be a light sleeper, which is how they'd wake, and if not it's because they go down for a glass of water or something and see way too many bedroom doors open and beds empty on their way. Either way, after living with people for so long they'd catch on.

They notice that every single person in the household had been unaccounted for at some time. Every single one of their siblings plus both adults in the house were getting together every night to do something without them.

The realization was like a stone at the bottom of their stomach. And so, they start to pull away.

And everyone notices.

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: t cw: hook up, mentions of sex, nothing on camera but it's implied, steve Harrington has bad parents tags: no upside au, reconnecting later in life, rockstar eddie, regular guy steve word count: 779

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "star gazing"

Eddie had come back to Hawkins for the only reason that could ever possibly drag him back to this cesspool of a town; his uncle. The unspoken assumption was that it'd be for Wayne’s death, but Eddie was fine with being wrong about that. Even if it meant one more trip back than he wanted.

A cut and dry visit to look at houses turned to drinking and, in the biggest surprise of all, going home with the king of Hawkins High. Something Eddie had always dreamt of, he was secure enough in who he was now to admit it.

They were, oddly, both in town for similar reasons. Eddie was getting Wayne a new place and Steve was selling his parents' old place. Leaving them both to revisit things they hadn’t for the better part of a decade. Even better, it granted Eddie the chance to see Steve’s high school bedroom, to play like they were sixteen again.

Drunk enough to not make it weird, they fooled around on the twin bed. Nothing more than a bit of fun and quick orgasms but healing all the same. Something helped by them squeezing together on a mattress meant for one, in just their underwear, after cleaning up. Not quite cuddling but a closeness Eddie wasn’t used to from his hook ups…or maybe conquests was a better word here.

Everything was silent, no hum of machines or buzz of lights, just a vacant house Steve had slept in last night and was looking to wipe his hands of. Wayne would never go for a place like this or they could kill two birds with one stone.

Still, the quiet was nice. Far better than talking about how they’d changed or Eddie admitting all those gym classes he spent staring. All they had was each other’s body heat and the familiar glow of neon green from the ceiling.

The longer Eddie looked, the more he recognized in the layout of stars until quiet wasn’t an option. “Is…is that Orion’s belt?” he asked, pointing to three stars in a row.

“Well, I mean, it’s the whole thing,” Steve answered, tracing the path of neighboring stars.

He was so much more subdued than the version of him in Eddie’s head, that one perpetually in high school. The calm voice, almost shy, had Eddie wanting to curl up on top of him. Stake a claim for more than a night.

“Okay, so did you do that?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a grimace Eddie could hear. “It’s like how people were really obsessed with Egypt and the pyramids? It was stars for me.”

“Apparently, those things are connected,” Eddie joked.

“My grandpa gave me this book and it was like I couldn’t read enough. I spent a whole winter break up here mapping this out. Mom loved it, I’d never been so quiet, but, I don’t know, probably a waste of time.”

“No!” Eddie fought the urge to pounce on Steve and scream that this was the hottest thing he’d ever learned about him. A bold statement given the short shorts and that time he watched Steve tell off a teacher for picking on a kid. “But it’s me talking. I made a career out of really, really loving weird shit.”

“You did it even when it didn’t pay.”

“Hey!” With a half-assed swing in Steve’s direction, Eddie didn’t make contact but feigned annoyance. “So how much do you still remember?”

“Well, it’s a good party trick to pull out when you can see the real stars. It’s…”

“Oh my god, you can even use the stars to get laid?” Eddie whined like it wasn’t totally working on him.

Steve shrugged hard enough to shake the bed.

“Alright then Magellan, what do you got?”

“So Orion is this way, right? The shoulders, the bow, all that. If you follow the other hand, in that area is Gemini. See the two bodies?”

Eddie followed Steve’s finger across the ceiling and stopped fighting the urge to pull closer. He already knew how to identify Gemini but that didn’t matter right now. Possibly ever. With a nod, he told Steve he followed. Eddie gave the man the floor and let him talk.

And talk he did. For hours, Steve pointed out constellations gave explanations, and told stories. He’d retained the information and not just to get laid. Which was good because, in a secret that couldn’t be tortured out of Eddie, this was way better than the sex.

As he dozed in and out, Steve ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair and told him about how hard it was to get some of the more line-like constellations right.

[gomzdrawfr]

NAKED GRANDMA

Now that I have your attention, just wanted to put out a few things. This does not apply to anyone in particular, but set as a reminder to everyone, though I will be directing some of these to people who warranted it. This applies to both here on tumblr and on my twitter page.

At the end of the day, Raven is MY original character.

about the top/bottom thing

I get a lot of asks pushing the idea that Raven must be dominant or topping Price because she's a badass which let me be clear, Raven is a switch. Sometimes she tops, most time she doesn't. If I've already talked or drawn things where she's explicitly bottoming or just being submissive, you who comes in and push her to topping instead in an already established dynamic and context is kind of a dick move to me. Listen, just because a character is strong and competent doesn't mean she is also dependent in the bedroom, that they are only valid if they're dominant at all time. Get that misogyny bs out of here.

about requests and rude comments

If you're sending ask telling me to draw a mlm art with Price, going as far as telling me that Price is gay why do you have to do what every tiktokers/artist and ship him with a skinny copy and paste girl- Get out. This is my blog and you're coming here to frame her presence and existence as somehow inferior just because "it's better" then please fuck off. Take your sexisms and poorly disguised fetish FAR AWAY FROM ME. I won't entertain these asks and simply won't care. This is my main OC with stories and lores I care about. You want mlm? then find it elsewhere, there are places out there with this sort of content. Also, just fucking block me if you hate my OC stuff so much. Block the tags block my blog everything, if you need a tutorial here's one. I promise I don't give a flying fuck of your feelings.

Also, another subset of asks who's somehow disappointed about the fact with Raven marrying and having a family with Price (which mind you, the kids exist in a different timeline and not the canon one even), as though settling down with someone you love is????wrong???bad????? You people gotta be coming from the most narrow-minded or cesspool of tiktok/twitter to think settling down is downplaying her character. Again, this must be fucking linked back to the idea that "strong woman" must remain cold, isolated, work all the time to be valid. Don't bring your "oh she could've earned her Master degree and that high paying job at New York but noooo she settled with a boy without frontal lobe development who still stays at his mom's basement without a paying job instead :(((" and "just as worse as early Disney Princesses story" into MY NARRATIVE. Raven and Price are both approaching 40, coming from high demand and stress work who WANTS to settle down and build something NICE and domestic together. It's healing and they deserve it. Don't go around projecting your dislike for marriage and kids onto my, or ANYONE'S characters and dynamics (again, it's my OC??? like???? kindly fuck off once more??????)

Raven should and must do this or that

No, Raven should rest. Tone is important, if at any point it sounded like a pressure than a chill hey an idea :D then out the door you go as well.

Final note

I'm not trying to deter anyone from sending ask about Raven, you're welcome to make your HC and interpretations about Raven because well it's the internet and part of the fandom experience. I do enjoy and love answering ask about them! On the occasions I don't engage or respond to them, it's not personal alright? I just don't agree with or vibe with the take, I'm very specific with Raven specifically because she's the closest OC I've got here. But please please don't keep pushing your view onto mine, especially when I've already established my take on her.

I am sharing my OC with you, because I love her, I love her story and everything I've done to build her, and to share some of those moments both sad and joy with you because it's fun. I'm not here to warp her by popular demands or to change what she does just because you're whining about it.

Thank you for reading this far, and thank you everyone who has been kind and respectful. Here's to more OC shenanigans.

[anamericangirl]

Just a lil wisdom from your ol friend Jay.

"The worst side to be on is the side that gets angry with you when you agree with them and support them."

I spent a full 11 years very very meticulously and very politely being respectful and supportive of the liberal left, even had my hair dyed blue and half shaved off, changed my name to Jynkx, identified as agender nonbinary, was dating a trans girl for 9 years and paid for her HRT for 3 full years, was (and still am) best friends with a trans person, had (still) a Discord server with pronoun selection, had many trans characters in my stories, was writing multiple stories and games featuring lesbian characters and characters of color, went to conventions wearing lipstick (as a boy), wore trans pride pins, wore pins with my pronouns on them, fundraised a total of $16,000 between three LGBT friends that were in toxic living situations that I used my position as a popular artist to get them out of, even moved to Ohio and lived with two gay guys.

And to this day I'm still regularly called a transphobe and a Nazi, and was called those things the entire time I was doing all that. For those full 11 years, that was my reputation. Transphobe and Nazi.

People are still so fucking stupid that they can't understand why like 70% of the country supports Trump and wants the liberal left to crash, burn, and either snap out of this shit or get the fuck out of our country immediately.

This is why.

Because even when you cater to them for a fucking decade they still hate you. They will always hate you. Nothing you can do will make them stop hating you.

So to everyone reading this: Stop. Stop catering to them. Stop listening to these fucking hateful freaks. You don't have to go full blown MAGA but for fuck sake stop supporting these psychos that call themselves Liberals or the LGBT or Antifa or BLM or whatever other name they have. I supported every fucking one of them for 11 years and was on the verge of suicide from how much they hated me and would constantly find fault in everything I did.

Get out. Either out of that mindset, or out of this fucking country.

PREACH!

A living testimony to the truth that no matter what you do you will never be good enough. It is a toxic, damaging environment and no one should be involved in it. Like you said you don’t have to go full MAGA or even go to the right at all. You just have to get out of the cesspool that is progressive leftism.

They don’t want your support. They want your compliance.

[aspenn3d]

Aughhh I feel like I talk about it all the time but Valorant is such an ANNOYING thing to like. Especially from the perspective of somebody really interested in the lore! I miss when they advertised agents and their lore how they did with fade, her dossiers and her encounters with chamber, neon, cypher and sova (correct me if I’m wrong, I don’t remember exactly who it was). Everything seems so rushed to get the agents out now, which makes sense for agents who might not have that deep of a background but I still want to have characters with complex backgrounds that really add to the lore, and for them to be advertised and teased as such. I think I’d play the actual game a lot more if they did so, the last time I was actually excited for a new agent was Deadlock (and clove but that’s just cause they’re silly and I’m queer). But I still wish there were more lore! Maybe that’s just my personal preferences though, I love very deep and complex lore. I just hope they expand on plot lines that they haven’t picked up a lot recently and that they appeal to this side of the fandom some more, rather than the side that’s a testosterone cesspool of little to no anger management and bigotry. 🌿

[sunvmars]

tart | s.r. [3]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 2.4k

warnings: very, very brief smut mention !

summary: steve confesses, bucky offers his help

a/n: another short but fast moving chapter for now, the next few will be much longer and explain/fill any plot holes or missing pieces :) I hardly proof read this so be warned

Bucky's eyebrow cocks up in confusion as he recalls the mission, "Yeah, what about it?"

Steve takes another deep breath, preparing himself to release the secret he's been keeping, "I found something during that mission."

Bucky narrows his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he leans forward. "Okay, spill it."

Steve leans forward too and rests his elbows on his knees. He knew that saying something was a risk, but keeping it a secret under the new circumstances was riskier. Steve's gaze fixates on the floor as he speaks.

"During that mission, when I was extracting the files we needed, I stumbled upon some classified files. They had information about a hidden experiment conducted years ago called 'Genesis,'" he explains.

Bucky leans forward, his curiosity getting the best of him, "What's that got to do with all of this?"

"It's got everything to do with it," Steve replies, "Genesis was made to create super soldiers and people with enhanced mental abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, everything in between. Their ultimate goal was to fuse DNA from both groups to create a new 'breed' of enhanced individuals."

"Steve, are you saying y/n is connected to this?"

"More than just connected, Buck," Steve admits. "Her father was one of their strongest super soldiers and her mother was an agent. Her mother was also the only successful recipient of the mental ability serum they curated. From what I read, her parents had a secret relationship. They disappeared when her mother became pregnant; likely to save her from whatever fate Hydra had for her."

A sigh leaves Steve's lips before he continues, "Essentially, y/n is the only living evidence that they existed- that this experiment existed."

Steve feels nothing short of horrible and shitty for keeping this from you. He wishes he hadn't done it, but now it was too late to take it back. All he could do now was fix it. And he will fix it.

Bucky's eyes widen as he starts to connect the pieces together. "Let me make sure I'm getting this right here... You're saying she's the only child of a super-soldier and a Hydra agent with mind blowing abilities, both of whom nobody has any knowledge of? And now she's carrying a baby who's a cesspool of these abilities?"

"Yes, but that's not all of it. I hired people to do some digging after that mission. Turns out that the man who conducted those experiments, the one who created her father, he's been searching for her parents ever since. I've had people looking for him, but he's been evading police for years too, changing locations frequently."

Bucky leans back and rubs a hand over his face. "And you think he's aware of her existence?"

"At first, I don't think he did. She had hardly any social media presence, she was homeschooled, her birthname had no relation to her parents. But now I know he knows she's alive. I got a pretty straightforward letter from him two days ago, and I'm not even sure how he found out she was with me. Figured that means he also knows that we've been following him."

"How do you know it was him? What did it say?"

"I know it was him because all it said was, 'I know who she is.'"

"Well, that's definitely straightforward," Bucky huffs, his heart feeling heavy with worry, "Is that why you told her you didn't want the baby?"

"I...I want her and that baby more than anything, but I can't put them in danger. He'll come for me first to get to her. He's probably been trying to find her for years. I'm afraid he's going to start taking more drastic measures if we don't find him soon."

Bucky tries to take in all the information thrown at him, but only finds himself able to focus on the part about you being in danger. "What does he know about her?"

"I don't know, and that's what scares me. I thought that if I got her away from me then he wouldn't have suspected she was ever here, but I guess I was wrong," Steve admits, guilt laced in his tone, "He wants her, Buck, and now he's gonna want our baby too."

"We'll figure something out, Steve. Don't worry." Bucky raises his eyebrows, still confused at what Steve's plan was. "How does her being alone protect her? What if he's already figured out where she is?"

"I wouldn't call it alone, she's just not with me. She's safe at the tower and I've been pulling strings to protect her."

"What kind of strings, Steve? Please don't tell me you've done something stupid."

"Haven't had to yet, just small stuff."

"Like?" Bucky urges, not taking the vague response.

"I stopped assigning her to missions. When I had to throw off suspicion, I made sure she would be with you or Tony. I've got people I trust watching over her when she leaves home alone too."

"That's a little creepy, Steve." Bucky chuckles briefly, shaking his head.

"I was doing everything possible to keep her from leaving a trace that he can pick up on. That's why she's not here and I'm in her chair, drinking this disgusting cocktail in this empty, lonely apartment."

The two of them sit in silence temporarily before Steve speaks again. "I even took down all our pictures and got rid of any trace of her in case he ever suspected me, just couldn't find it in myself to take those two pictures down," he says as he points at the only two remaining frames on the wall.

Bucky's eyes follow where he points and he finds himself smiling at the pictures. Steve smiles too, but because it's all he's got left of you at the moment even though everything in the house had you intertwined with it. Regret fills the holes in his heart and his eyes linger on the pictures for a little too long.

The photo taken at the beach with all three of you? You were in his favorite bikini and, unbeknownst to anyone else, he later fucked you in it in the kitchen while everyone else was outside swimming. Your first date photo? Well, that one's self explanatory. It was sentimental and he wasn't sure he'd ever take that one down, even if you decided you hated him forever.

"But I guess it was all this pain for nothing, huh?" Steve says, smiling weakly.

"You did what you could, just wish you would've came to me. You know I'm here for you and her."

Steve doesn't find it in himself to respond. Bucky was right, he shouldn't of tried to handle this by himself. Guilt pools in his stomach threatening to make him nauseous.

"Were you ever gonna tell her? She should know, Steve, this is her past we're talking about here. If she knows then she'll be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Steve taps his foot, his nerves slowly overwhelming him. "That's the woman I know and love, Bucky, and I know she'll go digging for answers. I can't let her get hurt, especially not now," he says.

Bucky knows there's some truth to this because he knows you almost as well as Steve does- you're relentless when something's important to you. However, he also knows that you deserve the truth- that's part of the whole reason he came to talk to Steve in the first place.

"You need to tell her," Bucky responds, his tone almost demanding. "I've been watching her hurt for the last few months over something that isn't even her fault."

"I know, and I'm gonna tell her..."

"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming after that, and I really don't wanna hear-"

"But I'm going to find him first."

For a moment he thinks to himself 'he can't be serious, can he?' Then he looks at his friend who has determination written all over his face. He sees a glimpse of that scrawny, nervous kid Steve used to be for a second, and that's what worries him; that's how he knows he won't stop until he finds this guy.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I'll take down all of Hydra if I have to, I'm not letting them get close to her."

"You don't even know where this guy is, Steve. As your best friend, I can't let you take a chance on getting hurt when you do find him. No matter how shitty you've been, she still loves you a lot. She needs you, and so will that baby."

"Buck, this is something I have to do-"

"Then I'll do it for you," Bucky interrupts, the words leaving his mouth before he gets the chance to second guess them. "Give me what you have on him and I'll handle it."

Steve is dumbfounded. He's got the same 'he can't be serious' look that Bucky had mere seconds ago.

"Absolutely not. With your history with them, that's not a risk I can let you take."

Bucky smiles sympathetically. "But I don't have a family like you will. Don't get me wrong, you and y/n are my family, but you've got a baby on the way, punk. I've got nothing to lose here, it's not up for debate."

Steve frowns at this. He looks torn, his emotions at war within him. On one hand, he wants to protect you and his baby at all costs. On the other hand, he can't bear to lose his best friend again.

"Bucky, you're like a brother to me; I don't think I can put you in harm's way and ask you to do this," Steve says, his voice filled with desperation, "But I can't risk y/n and the baby's safety either."

Bucky's expression softens as he places a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "You're gonna be a father soon, Rogers. You need to be there for them. Just let me handle this, they can't get to me anymore. I've got more ties to Hydra than anyone, I can probably pull some strings of my own."

Steve sighs upon realizing that Bucky's decision is unshakable. "You promise me you'll be careful. You'll keep me updated on everything and if anything seems off, I want you to retreat immediately."

He laughs before saying, "You're gonna be a damn good dad, you know?"

Steve narrows his eyes at him. "I'm serious, Buck."

"Alright, alright. I promise, and I'll keep you updated, okay?" Bucky agrees, throwing his hands up in the air to show his compliance.

Steve then reaches for his phone and begins to compile all the information he's gathered about Zepher Hawthorne. He anonymously sends the files to Bucky who immediately starts to study them closely. Bucky glances up to give Steve a reassuring smile.

"I'll be as careful as they come, Steve. Don't worry about me."

With their roles now clearly defined, they continue to discuss their plan in detail. They agree on secure communication channels, establish a backup line for communication, and set up a timeline for Bucky's investigation into Hawthorne. It's a risky endeavor, and they know that, but they're both determined to protect you and the unborn child.

As Bucky prepares to leave, Steve can't help but feel a renewed sense of hope that he'd lost when you told him about the baby. He knows he has a difficult conversation ahead with you, but he's also more motivated than ever to show you his dedication to protecting your little family.

Right as Bucky's about to leave, he turns around to look at Steve. "I'll put it some vacation days and let you know once I have a lead; in the meantime, go talk to her. If you don't wanna tell her the full story until I find him, then you at least need to tell her that you want her and the baby. Sound good?"

"Works for me," Steve chuckles lightly before giving Bucky a tight hug. "See you around?"

"I always come back," Bucky jokes as the door shuts behind him.

With that, Bucky leaves to prepare. Steve, however, takes a deep breath and picks up his keys. He knows it's time to open up to you about everything that's been hidden for far too long. He stands in the empty apartment motionless for a moment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on him. It's not that he doesn't want you to know, but he doesn't want you to worry. After taking a deep breath he leaves the apartment and locks the door behind him.

As he heads towards the apartment elevator, his mind races with thoughts of how to approach you. He knows this won't be easy, and he's prepared to take all your anger and confusion because he knows he deserves it. Yet he's also determined to help you understand that at first he did everything he did to keep you safe; now he's doing what he has to in order to keep his family safe.

You're in the Avengers Tower sleeping comfortably your warm bed. You're peacefully unaware of the bombshell revelation that has just been dropped, but it won't stay that way for much longer. As Steve walks through the hallways he finally reaches your room.

He hesitates briefly before knocking gently on the door. It's quiet in your room so he waits for a moment, but then...nothing. His worry grows and horrible thoughts swarm in his brain. He knocks again, a bit more urgently this time.

On the other side of the door, you slowly begin to stir. The knocking finally registers in your drowsy mind, and you groggily call out, "Who is it?"

"It's Steve," he answers, his voice riddled with worry.

His voice has you awake instantly, but your heart races at the seriousness in his tone. You slide out of bed and hurriedly make your way to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock at first but you find it within seconds. The door opens to reveal Steve standing there, his expression tense.

"Steve?" you ask, worry etching into your features as you take in the look on his face, "Why are you here? Are you okay?"

He steps into your room and turns on the dim light before closing the door behind him. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands together.

"We need to talk," he insists. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago."

taglist!

@oh-thats-cute @vicmc624 @blackhawkfanatic @tooruen

@athenabarnes @gh0stgurl @missing-loki @elizacusi-blog

@terry2227 @imyourbratzdoll @starksbabie @diannana

@flowers-and-fichte @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @nouk1998

think I managed to add everyone, but if I forgot your tag, or you want to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :)

[fourquartertoast]

Concept: The Prank but this time James takes the fall for it.

HEAR ME OUT. Sirius, in a state of fury, of anger, of fuck-it-I-hate-everything, hears Snape say some shit about the Black family's 'spineless drone of a spare' and corners him for it. Snape won't apologise and Sirius can't exactly hurt him without somebody hearing – so he decides to make him do it to himself. Because he's Sirius Black, he's got the world under his thumb, and just because he's more humane than his parents doesn't mean he's not looking at those around him as means to an end. So he tries to use 'his' werewolf to hurt Snape, and James finds out somehow and stops it. And we know James is smart, way smarter than anybody gives him credit for, so he realises instantly that the Blacks can't find out about this or they'll end up knowing Remus is a werewolf. Even if Sirius doesn't get in trouble for the actual prank – it does kind of sound like something the Blacks would be proud of – he'll be punished brutally for befriending a 'mutant', and Remus' secrets will be spread all across the Wizarding World.

So James confesses to the prank. He convinces Severus to agree with him, whether through magic or pure wit, and tells Dumbledore the whole thing was his fault. Even Remus doesn't know the truth, and Peter sort of does, but James is a good liar when he has to be, so everything is covered up. The Potters are mad, but not nearly as mad as the Blacks would have been, and James' punishment is nothing compared to what Sirius would've received. The worst part is Remus' reaction, because Remus is so fucking confused about absolutely everything going on. He's furious at James, and he's terrified of what could have happened, and he's kind of an emotional wreck about everything. (I mean, who wouldn't be?) And he can't even reach out to Sirius for comfort, because Sirius is all guilty and awkward all of a sudden, and Remus has no idea why.

The tragic thing is that Sirius can't even confess, and save his best friend from the blame, because then his parents will be told about everything and Remus' identity will be revealed. But he can't just run away and leave his brother, and he can't stop his parents from being assholes about everything, so he's trapped. And James is mad at him, and Remus is so upset, and Snape is starting to question whether it was really a good idea to keep James' secret, and the whole thing is just a cesspool of deceit and fury and betrayal.

Guys. Should I write the fic?

[marshmallowprotection]

Ray get in here

"C'mon, what's with that look on your face, Ray? You look like you want to ask me something but I can tell you're holding back... you know you can tell me anything, right? We're best friends, after all. Best friends can tell each other anything without the fear of being judged."

You didn't want to frighten him when he'd already been so riled up when he came to see you, but in the same vein, you hated to see his expression turn crestfallen when you could do something about it. It wasn't fair for him to look after you all the time without letting you do the same for him in return. He wasn't that hard to get a read on, what he wanted was as simple as you did.

He wanted to be heard.

He wanted someone to hear him when he sobbed about how lonely he was in this cesspool that claimed to be a paradise... to hold him and tell him it would be okay even if he suffered because someone in this world loved him and wouldn't abandon him just as his brother and V had... a wish to be heard and taken care of when he felt such wicked pain burrow itself in his chest.

But, how could he be heard if he bit his tongue? You understood that he had to be careful in this place to survive, and not only that, know in his heart you would be safe from the kind of danger he was in at all times. He did his best to look after you... after all, he brought you into this place and he didn't realize what that would mean until it was too late to protect you from harm. You appreciated how hard he worked... but you hated not being able to give him just as much as he gave you.

He tucked his lower lip under his teeth, fiddling with his gloves as you let him take his time to organize his thoughts. "I... I haven't... I haven't seen you in person for over a week because of my work... it was agony to know you were all by yourself when I could've come to see you had I proven myself to be capable of getting all of my work done in time."

"Oh, Ray," you brushed your hand against his cheek. It was there to swat away some of the tears that dared to spill. "You don't have to do that. You're doing everything you can for us, and I know it's hard to be away from me... it's hard for me to be away from you, too. But, it's like you said. If we don't play along for now, we won't be able to get out to see the world together when the time is right."

Convincing him to leave was difficult, and while he flip-flopped on the issue again and again, you were determined to let him be the one to control his future. Far too many people had stolen his autonomy... deciding his fate without a second thought... without any regard for what he might've wanted to do! If you forced him to leave, you knew you would be no better than them.

He needed to choose to leave this place on his own terms. That was the only way to make true progress towards the future.

As long as you behaved... as long as you played along... that woman would be none the wiser! It wasn't a simple game by any means, but it was the only way to prove to Ray he could live as he wanted to and not be punished for it. A taste of freedom was what he needed to see the sky whenever he wanted. But, you knew the lies were taking a toll on him. He didn't like to lie to his Savior, but if he didn't lie, you would be in trouble.

He nuzzled his cheek against your palm to let the heat take away the chill that lingered from his frigid office. "I'm tired, [prince/ss]... so very tired... I don't want to be a hacker... I don't want to work my fingers to the bone... I want my revenge on the people who hurt me so I'll never know another night of what they made me feel, but at the same time, I... I just want to be yours. I don't want to be anything but yours. All of this would be so much easier if I didn't have anywhere to be but your arms."

You didn't want him to work as hard as he was forever, either, but if you could give him anything to ease his pain, you would. You didn't miss a beat as you asked, "So, being in my arms... that would make you feel better, huh, my prince?"

"Yes... yes, of course."

"All you had to do was ask," the tender words danced across your lips. "How could I ever deny such a perfect wish?"

Without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around his waist and lifted him off the ground. He let out the cutest little gasp when he realized you were capable of sweeping him off his feet—that being on his list of things he wished he could do for you when he built up more strength in his upper body—and instead of protesting or stammering to let go, a dangerously bubbly laugh escaped the back of his throat instead.

"That's my prince," you cooed at him. You had no intention to let go of him, either, not unless he asked you to set him back down. You let him twirl around no different than a princess would when her prince decided to twist her around the ballroom. You wanted to see stars in his eyes before you ever thought to let go.

Your mystified prince had no intention of falling from your arms, either, given how fast he wrapped his legs around your waist and curled his arms across your shoulders to balance his weight against yours. He could hide his rosy cheeks all he wanted into the nape of your neck but you knew it was there just as well he knew you enjoyed the sight of him under your spell.

He didn't have to hold back.

Not when you were around to praise him.

But, of course, you knew he understood that as he shivered against your skin. "I'll always give what you want, my prince, all you have to do is ask."

[manonamora-if-reviews]

Friday Fun-day Five-star day!

I kinda missed... 5/5-day organised by Jess Levine, where you rate 5 games on itch.io (because the algo sucks ass, and you should tell people that you liked their stuff). So I'm doing my part but a bit later. And maybe a bit more than once? like a Throwback-Thursday-When-I-Remember-It's-Thursday type of thing

friday fun-day 5-[star] day Sharing some of my favourite indie games

For this first FFF edition, here are 5 of my favourite IF games. Of varying sizes (5min-2h?), of varying themes, of varying mechanics, but all freaking great! 100% 5-star games in my book (and on itch)! It's hard to choose just five dams...

Computerfriend by Kit Riemer (@adz)

Vanitas by Sweetfish/Ayu (@sweetfishes)

SPILL YOUR GUT by Coral Nulla (@nullamirrors)

InGirum by BenyDanette

The Dying of the Light, by Amanda Walker

If you want some words about them, check below (+ links to reviews):

Computerfriend by Kit Riemer

I wrote a whole review about this game two years ago, but I still think about it often. It's so weird and nihilistic that it becomes strangely comforting. I've been coming back to it a couple of times this past year, especially when things gotten tough - I don't know if the bleakness that become so familiar I needed more of it? I keep finding new neat stuff every time somehow (that or I keep forgetting what I'd already seen).

It even has a mini-sequel! And I highly recommend Verses too (I didn't get it, but it's really good.

Vanitas by Sweetfish

It feels like since I reviewed it, this tiny game became even more relevant. Cohost is gone, Twitter is... something I guess, Reddit is even more a cesspool, and people keep moving around. What will the new flavour of the month be, before it gets enshittified too. I've also returned to it recently, when reading more about the Web Revival and working on my website. It's that comforting feeling that wherever we end up on the internet, we'll find each other.

SPILL YOUR GUT by Coral Nulla

This was part of the reviews that never made it to Tumblr (but you can read it here!), which is a shame, because more people should know about this game. Actually, they should know about the GUT trilogy (since, this is the third opus): GUT THE MOVIE (EctoComp/BareBones 2023), and the Sequel (Really Bad IF). And play it in order. They all hold a dear place in my hear, but I think the third one takes the cake. It's both the WTF-ness of it all, layered and layered and layered. You get lost so easily, within the mazes, and the prose, and the story. But it's worth it. Play each section of this game order though (or the final one won't hit as hard).

InGirum by BenyDanette

It's honestly a crime this game has like 3 ratings on itch (and I contributed to the 3rd this week, because I'd forgotten to do the English version when I reviewed it - and it's the only review on IFDB), or isn't streamed by people. It's so so SO good! You've got a pseudo-documentary style look over an anthology, with a calm but kind of creepy voice-over, bits of puzzle-like anxiety-riddling mini-games, and an interface that really blew me away. It truly brought the best of the bisty/binksi engine. Everything was so well planned, so well executed - it all makes sense in the context of the game.

And for the last one, I'll go with a parser.

The Dying of the Light by Amanda Walker

This was one of my truly favourite game published in 2023. It's difficult to play through it, but that makes the game even more compelling. I talked about it in my review of the game, that even its obvious mechanical flaws push the message further. Having passed some death anniversaries (relevant here) recently, I was reminded how true this game was, how raw it was, how devastating it was. And how understanding it was.

I hope yall check them out, maybe leave a rating or comment.

[slushiesandshowtunesat3am]

Even as a pale, white, petite, always pink, and female myself which seems like all they seem to insert into these fics…. I freaking HATE reading that in a x reader fic. Because all I see then is those basic asș AI generated girls who all look the same, it becomes a joke. And the stupid description of pale snow skin and everything being pink, and I do mean EVERYTHING is freaking vomit inducing. We’re all asking for the bare freaking minimum.

1. Tag properly (Keep to who the main people are, side people not needed. That can be added to the author notes.) The goal is not to flood tags and having people endlessly scroll.

2. x Reader - No actual descriptions of what this person/character may look like (I would also say if the description of the clothes aren’t important to the scene, that can be left out. This might just be a me thing. Why the F are these people always just wearing a T-shirt, leggings, and a freaking messy bun… 🫤 cozy but EVERY SINGLE TIME! )

3. x OC / x Named OC - Go ham! Do all the descriptions, outfits, etc. No one should bother you then since you let them know in advance. It’s even super cool if you give an advance notice of what said character will look like.

4. Please edit your stuff. Even if you’re a beginner (nothing wrong with that, everyone starts somewhere) edit as best as you can. Storyboarding is so great too, to help remember things and look back.

5. PLEASE PUT YOUR AGE ON YOUR TUMBLR!!!! Especially if you write mature content!!!!!

We’re all well aware (like that racist POS, who I hope you blocked said..) that anyone can do what they want and how they want, but if you want people to read your stuff and start engaging then going about it in a smart way will do you wonders!! I think decline started once the cesspool of Twitter started coming here. People have become straight up asșholes on here. You can feel the shift. I miss old tumblr and even AO3 isn’t the same (and I refuse to ever go on wattpad… the horror ☠️).

Oh, I love you. Tens across the board with everything you said, and thank you so much for expressing solidarity with your opinion. You're amazing.

It didn't even occur to me that sometimes even white individuals can't relate to this content because not all of them identify as women, or look like the women who are often displayed or described in this content, which is very much catered to a pretty, perfect, docile, very much so male gaze esque ideology.

I really really agree with the shift. I could write a whole paper on this, but since Twitter has merged with us, I've seen a rise in dub-con/infantilization/overall inconsiderate culture. And I know it's out of left field, but I truly think this is all connected.

Almost all of the content now is not only incredibly drenched with smut, but also flooded with unhealthy dynamics where women are not only heavily degraded and taken advantage of, but made to fit this very, I had to say it, child-like dynamic. I mean, I had to block an author the other day because in the tags it literally said "sexualization of the word kiddo and I don't give a fuck."

All this to say, this archetype that more fanfics are leaning towards, submissive and cutsie, often fit this ideal of innocence and purity that people of color have never been included in.

And we're beginning to see this level of exclusion more and more. Not just in smut.

I get it. Everyone is in to what they are in to, and everyone can filter what they don't like.

But we have to face the fact that there are some serious issues effecting the fanfiction community on this app.

Still never going back to Wattpad, though.

[heavenlyakin]

Bluelock Tinder Hookup Series: Rin Itoshi

wc: 2520

Warnings: a little ooc for Sae I think, fem reader, use of “brat,” “slut,” and “princess,” spitting, fingering, orgasm denial, and kitchen sex.

Description: Hookup #1 in my latest series. College AU Tinder Hookup Series: starring Rin Itoshi. This is a nontraditional hookup and I hope you enjoy the story! This one is light and silly at first but of course, you get some steamy scenes. Also, if someone guesses what drink Rin makes, I’ll write you something!

The man who sits across from you is not who’s picture you’d been looking at for the last few days. His red hair is definitely not the dark green you’d been expecting, and his features, except his strikingly familiar eyes, are all wrong. 

“You’re not Rin,” you say softly, leaning forward on the table with your elbows. 

“Correct. I’m Sae,” his tone is colder than you expected. “Why’d you want to match with my brother?” 

You laugh, put off by the abruptness of his question. “Why is it any of your business? Where is he? How’d you know I was meeting him here?” 

“Oh, I run his Tinder. He wouldn’t be caught dead in that cesspool. I just like to fuck with people.” He admits, leaning forward. “You’re really pretty, though. So I’ll entertain you.” 

“You’re fucking weird,” you move away, sitting back in your seat and grabbing your purse from the ground. “But, do feel free to give your brother my regards.” 

Sae laughs, a smile plastered on his once bored expression. “Your loss,” he calls back as you walk away. 

Everything about that has triggered something in you. So much so that you delete the Tinder app from your phone. Your walk home is fine, but you find yourself looking behind you to make sure that creep isn’t following you home. He didn’t give you stalker vibes, but who the hell uses their brother to match with girls on Tinder? Especially when they’re that attractive on their own. It’s fucking twisted. 

When you check the time on your phone, you’re not spatially aware of your surroundings and run into someone at the end of a crosswalk. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid, I didn’t even see you in front of me and-” You look up and notice that it’s none other than the man you originally matched with on Tinder; Rin. 

“Watch where you’re going and this won’t happen.” He scoffs, wiping off his shirt. “Wait, are you —-.” 

“Yeah, why?” You look up at him towering over you. 

“You ghosted me today.” He frowns, looking unimpressed with your response. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re the girl from Tinder right.” He asks, quieter and looking around to see if anyone is listening to the both of you. 

“Yeah, actually I am. But I’m confused, your brother-” 

“What about my brother?” Anger flares in his voice.

“He met me where we were supposed to meet and I guess tried to flirt with me in some creepy way, and claimed he ran your Tinder account.” 

“What?” He looks shocked. 

“You two need to sort that out. I’m not playing games with either of you.” You start to walk away but Rin grabs your arm. 

“Can you please explain what happened?” He asks, and you nod. 

“Walk with me, we can get a drink at my place. I’ll tell you everything.” You begin walking towards your off-campus apartment and explain in detail what happened. It clearly wasn’t a lot but you can recall every word since it was just a few minutes ago. 

“We didn’t agree to meet at the student union though,” he frowns. 

“You changed it last minute, remember?” You say and he shakes his head no. “Check our messages. I got so mad at your stupid brother that I deleted the app. You’ll see that ten minutes before our date you messaged me to meet at the student union instead.” 

He pulls out his phone as you open the door to the lobby of your apartments. He notices and grabs the door above your head. “After you,” he says. 

You smile and lead him inside and to the elevator. “Well, did you see it?” 

He’s frowning at his phone as you press the button to your floor. “Yeah, but I didn't send this. That fucker must really have my login information.” 

“Yeah, you should change your password.” You comment, not really sure what to say. 

“No wonder I keep getting ghosted.” He sighs, putting his phone back in his pocket. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“You should. It’ll do society a favor.” You tease, nudging him with your elbow. 

He smiles, barely, but it’s there. “Yeah,” he agrees and looks up at the numbers changing above the elevator door. 

The elevator finally stops and you lead him to your apartment, opening the door and walking in before him. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you smile and let him walk in passed you so you can shut the door. 

“It’s nice. Reminds me of my place.” He tells you and stands awkwardly in the middle of your living room. 

“You can sit, make yourself comfortable.” You walk into the kitchen, grabbing some Moscato from your fridge and then you realize you don’t know what he drinks. “Do you like wine? I don’t have beer. Um, I have some vodka and tequila too…” you look through your liquor cabinet. “Oh, I have this gin too.” 

“Do you have lime juice and simple syrup?” He asks, walking over to your breakfast bar across from the cabinets. 

“I think so,” you look further in the fridge and find the simple syrup and a few limes. “I do! Thank god my old roommate was a bartender and left me all this.” 

“Oh, do you live alone now?” Rin asks as he starts to mix himself a drink. 

“As of a few days ago, yeah. She moved back home.” You take another sip of your wine, enjoying the sweet peachy flavor. 

“Ah,” he pours the drink into the glass you hand him after he’s done shaking the drink. He tasted it and buns softly, it must be good. 

“Can I have a taste?” You ask, curious about the drink. “Pretty please,” you bat your eyelashes for effect. 

He grins, shaking his head no. “It’s mine. No.” 

You walk around the breakfast bar, taking the glass from his hand quickly. “It’s my glass. My liquor.” 

He’s faster taking it back, then holding it up so you can’t reach it. “Brats don’t get what they want.” He challenges and your body heats up. 

Oh. 

“I just want a little taste,” you beg, pouting your bottom lip out. 

He takes another sip, his hand caressing your cheeks. As he swallows his thumb grazes across your lip, tugging it down to open your mouth. You oblige, parting your lips and letting him have his way. He takes another sip. 

In a blink of an eye his hand is squeezing your mouth open wider and he spits the drink into your mouth. Your eyes widen and you clench your fists, your body heating up more than before as you slowly swallow the slightly sweet and sour drink. He went heavy on the lime, you realize as it slides down your throat. 

“Good girl, swallowed without me even asking,” he pats your cheek with his fingers and you step closer to him. 

“I-” before you can finish your thought, Rin’s lips are on yours. The taste of his drink floods your mouth with his tongue. You reach for his shirt, grabbing the soft fabric and pulling yourself closer to him so your body is flush with his. 

His hands settle on your hips, pulling you against him, his cock hard under his pants and pressing against you. A moan slips past your lips against Rin’s. 

“Moaning already?” He pulls away, his right hand moving from your hip to your cheek, his thumb teasing your bottom lip again. “I’ve barely touched you, slut.” 

Something about the way the degradation slips past his pretty lips so effortlessly turns you on more.  “Can’t help it,” you shrug looking up at him. 

“I bet you’re soaking wet under those shorts.” He whispers next to your ear, his thumb pressing into your mouth. You close your lips around it and suck lightly. “Should I find out?” 

“Mmhm,” you hum around his thumb desperate for him to touch you. 

His left-hand moves from your hip, tugging your linen shorts open just enough so he can slip his hand in. You feel his fingertips tease the outline of your panties. You want to beg him to hurry up, but you also enjoy the teasing look in his beautiful teal eyes. He wants to drag this out, you realize. He finally presses his fingers against your clit through the thin fabric, and you whimper. 

“I was right,” he smirks, his fingers tracing slow circles as your thighs quiver slightly. “Soaking wet through your flimsy underwear.” 

You pop his thumb out of your mouth, grinning before speaking. “Didn’t expect a soccer player to be so good with his fingers,” his smirk turns to an intense frown. “Aw didn’t like that?” 

“I prefer you with your mouth full.” He tells you, pushing you back against the breakfast bar. His fingers slip into your underwear. 

“Fuck,” you whimper as his thumb teases your clit and his fingers start to enter you. 

“I like that sound as well,” he tells you, a small chuckle leaving his lips. 

Suddenly, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling your shorts and panties down around your knees as he goes. You gasp and your fingers go right to his hair as he leans forward and his tongue swipes across your cunt. 

“Rin,” you gasp as he slips a finger in you as he sucks on your clit. His hair tangles in your fingers and you grip the breakfast bar with your free hand to steady yourself. He hums against you sending shivers down your legs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ you moan, pulling his hair. 

His fingers pump into you faster while he continues lapping at you like you’re a meal he intends to devour. You throw your head back, letting yourself feel and enjoy every single sensation Rin blesses you with. It’s overwhelming and takes all your strength to stay standing still for him. His grip on your right thigh with his hand is intense, and probably going to leave a bruise. 

Just as you start to feel the familiar build of tension in your lower stomach and your body starts to shake, he pulls away abruptly. 

“Rin, what the fuck,” you gasp, catching your breath and staring down at him. 

He smiles, actually smiles at you. “Impatieny slut,” the words sound beautiful coming from that cruel mouth. 

Your body just wants more, more of him and his cruelty. He stands up, pulling you close and kissing you. The taste of yourself on his lips is erotic. You pull him closer with his belt loops, leaving just enough room for your hands to undo his belt and pants, unzipping the zipper next. 

“Want to go to my bedroom?” You ask as you slowly take his cock in your hand, stoking it once and then twice. 

“Who needs the bedroom? I could take you right here on this counter.” He tells you, his voice serious and rough. “Or do you need some pillows, princess? Can’t take the hard counters?” 

“I can take you, and that’s all that matters, right?” You squeeze his cock a bit tighter and he inhales sharply. “I’m desperate for you,” you put on the sexiest voice you can muster, almost making yourself laugh. 

“Oh shut up,” he mutters, closing his eyes as you continue jerking him off. “Turn around.” 

You let go of him, turning around as he ordered and bracing the breakfast bar with your hands and arms. You feel his hands on your ass before you hear the sound of his pants hitting the ground around his ankles. He cock grazes your ass and you wiggle it at him. 

“Stay still,” he grips you tightly and you feel the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. 

“Oh god,” you whimper as he thrusts inside of you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. He makes you feel so full, you’re unable to think of anything but him and his cock inside of you. He moans quietly, barely audible, but you catch it. 

He begins to thrust in and out of you, gripping your hips to keep you still as he fucks you. It’s intense, like him. Everything you imagined this moment might be like is completely shattered and blown away by the actuality of it all. 

“Harder,” you ask, breathless against the countertop and looking back at him as best as you can. 

He laughs, “You need more, princess? Fucking dirty slut.” 

Before today, you’ve never had someone bounce so effortlessly between sweet to cruel names for you and it’s doing something to your body. You don’t think you’ve ever been this aroused or needy for someone in your life. You feel that familiar tension building again, coming back from where Rin denied it earlier. Your body heats up and you try your best to keep from cumming now. 

“Go ahead and cum, princess.” Rin leans down, his body pressing against yours and pushing him deeper into you. “I can always make you cum again. Don’t hold back on me.” He whispers against your ear. 

That’s all it takes. 

You clench around his cock, cumming and moaning a slur of his name and curses. Your body goes limp against the counter. He continues to fuck into you, supporting you with his hands. 

“You feel incredible,” he mumbles, and you imagine he has his head tossed back and is enjoying every second of being inside of you. From what you can see behind you, you’re correct. 

He stops suddenly, and you push up with your arms and look behind you fully. “What, is something wrong?” 

He pulls out of you and without saying a word spins you around. 

“Jump up here,” he pats the top of the breakfast bar. 

You oblige, gripping the edge of the bar with your hands and jumping up. He pushes back inside of you and you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips are on yours before you can think to kiss him first and he begins to fuck into you harder than before. 

You can’t focus on his lips or tongue, only on holding onto him and moaning against his lips. This position feels much more intimate and overwhelming with pleasure. Your nails dig into his skin, his shoulders feel so strong under your fingers that you’re sure this isn’t even noticeable to him. It makes you curious. 

You drag your nails down his back and he groans against your mouth. “Do that again.” 

So you do, and you feel him twitch inside of you. His thrusts become sloppier and faster if that’s even possible. His stamina is unreal, and it makes you want to thank whoever the fuck his coach is for the conditioning he must have put Rin through to build this up. 

“Fuck, oh fuck,” he groans as he cums, thrusting into you a few more times before stilling inside of you. 

He leans his forehead against yours, and it's sweaty, and his hair sticks to your forehead and his. “I need another drink before we go again.” 

“Again?” You laugh, praying your pussy will make it through the day.