#(+ see him more but that’s more on the platonic side of things)

[in1-nutshell]

Can i Request Tfp Breakdown having a daughter, a youngling who is the opposite of him. She likes to fight, but with swords.

She is the niece of Bulkhead and Wheeljack, and Jackie is her fav uncle. One day, she had to fought with Bulkhead, but because of their story, she spared him. Starscream saw and told Megatron. Megs saw this as traitor behavior and decided to destroy her. BD with the help of his partner KO, the other dad of the kid, managed to get her to autobot territory. They hugged her and told her that everything would be okay. And then she passed out because of KO. The couple called the bots and told them about the situation and agreed to take her in.

(I love the daughters with opposite personality, Ironbolt is currently my Fav 🩷)

Another daughter to add to the list!

I will be figuring out a name for her and putting it on the Buddy name list when I do!

Hope you enjoy!

Breakdown with a daughter with the opposite personality

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Angst, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Buddy had known Breakdown since she was a sparkling.

Her parents were good friends with him and Bulkhead, after having worked in the same construction team for a couple of years.

Neither parent was able to stay at home with the sparkling, so she often came to the construction sites.

The bots didn’t mind the new cute face playing in their little play pin away from anything dangerous.

One thing the bots found out was that the sparkling could be incredibly fussy if things weren’t according to plan.

Breakdown looks at a slightly uncomfortable Bulkhead. Breakdown: “Bulk? You, okay? You look like a turbo fox’s gnawing on your pede.” Bulkhead: “I’m okay. It’s just…” Bulkhead motioned behind him. Breakdown looked behind him. Buddy was clutching the sides of her play pin with a glare that would make any bot say sorry. Bulkhead: “It started when I accidentally put her coloring pads in the other corner by her energon formula.” Breakdown: “Wait doesn’t she usually have the pads—” Bulkhead: “On the other side, I know now!” Both mechs look at the sparkling. She was still glaring at them. Breakdown and Bulkhead feel an uncomfortable shiver down their backstruts. Breakdown: “How long has she been staring at you?” Bulkhead: “We’re on hour 2… I don’t know how long she can do this for…”

But the sparkling did have a softer side for her parents and those she deemed worthy of being in her presence.

Nonetheless, the crew loved that little grumpy sparkling.

It was the highlight of their day if they caught a glimpse of the little thing playing with her makeshift toys.

The Accident happened a year before Megatron marched out of the Senate.

There was an explosion inside one of the sites.

It was the one where Buddy and their parents were.

As soon as Breakdown and Bulkhead heard about it, they quickly made their way to the hospital where the patients were recovering.

Buddy’s parents were the closest to the explosion.

Most likely terminated in an instant.

Buddy was lucky enough to make it out with minor scrapes and cuts.

Breakdown was the one who went to get Buddy.

Breakdown enters the room slightly panicked. Breakdown: “Buddy! Buddy are you—” Breakdown stops talking seeing the cherry red framed doctor. The doctor looked at him curiously. Breakdown: “Umm…” Buddy’s helm pops from the doctor’s side. Buddy: “Breakdown!” The sparkling jumps from the med slab and runs straight for Breakdown’s opened arms, burying her face into his chassis. Breakdown sighs in relief. Breakdown: “Thanks for taking care of her.” The doctor huffs. Knockout: “That’s Doctor to you.” He looks a bit more at the mech before smiling. Knockout: “But I guess you can call me Knockout, sweet rims.” Breakdown exe has stopped working.

Buddy didn’t let go of him for a couple of hours, she did go to Bulkhead from time to time, but mainly latched onto Breakdown.

He and Bulkhead step up to the plate to raise Buddy.

Tears up when Buddy starts calling him ‘dad’.

Does pull Buddy aside and tells her about what happened to her actual parents.

Breakdown finishes telling Buddy the story. Buddy looks at him confused. Buddy: “Do you not like it when I call you ‘Dad’?” Breakdown: “Its not that I don’t like it. I don’t deserve that title, Buddy.” Buddy puts her servos on her hips and looks at him with a stern look on her face. Buddy: “I’m still going to call you Dad. You raised me, took me in, and you care for me. If I’m not wrong, isn’t what a parent does?” Breakdown: “Well there’s more stuff but that is the gist.” Buddy: “Then you’re my dad. I don’t care if you’re not biological or that stuff—wait are you crying?” Breakdown with tears in his optics: “N-nope.”

Breakdown is not crying

Nope he is not

Buddy nearly gives Bulkhead whiplash when he hears her call him Uncle.

Breakdown just tells him to go with it.

War breaks out.

The three of them join the Autobot side.

They end up in the Wrecker’s unit.

Breakdown makes it clear to Buddy that she is not going to go out on the field until she is older.

Buddy just nods and helps with the cleaning and restocking.

Something that she is surprisingly good at.

Enter Wheeljack.

Breakdown doesn’t know how his sparkling, a grumpy grump ended up befriending, arguably one of the most chaotic Wrecker’s.

Buddy is running alongside Wheeljack across the base. Breakdown notices Buddy has something in her servos. Breakdown: “Buddy what do you have in your servos?” Buddy, still running raises both her servos displaying twin swords in them. Buddy: “Swords!” Breakdown and Bulkhead start running after her. Breakdown: “Buddy no!” Bulkhead: “Jackie why!?” Wheeljack: “Have you seen her cut things with them? She’s a natural!” Breakdown: “I will break your swords and shove them up your—” Buddy glancing back giving him a quick glare: “Dad! We don’t swear!”

As the war drew on longer, Breakdown started seeing more and more of what the Decepticon’s stood for.

He kept his thoughts to himself until he saw a familiar coat of cherry red sprinting across the battlefield.

He began to see Knockout in secret after that day.

Often asked Bulkhead, Wheeljack or another trusted Wrecker to watch over Buddy.

Buddy was worried about her father’s sudden disappearances, but never voiced it.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack had enough on their plates, so, instead she organized the inventory to get her processor off of things.

The inventory never looked so clean and organized.

Finally, the day came.

Breakdown told her that they both were going to join the Decepticon’s.

Buddy blinks looking at him. Breakdown: “Well, what do you think?” CLANK! Breakdown: "OW! Buddy!” Buddy had thrown a lugnut in between his optics. Buddy stood up looking at him with fury in her optics. Buddy: “Direct me what debris hit you in the helm from the bombing so I can beat it to oblivion for you TO EVEN CONSIDER DEFECTING!” Buddy clenches her servos. Buddy: “What are you even thinking!? No, you’re not!” Breakdown: “Buddy calm down—” Buddy: “You have no RIGHT TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN AFTER TELLING THIS SCRAP!”

They both tried talking but Buddy was not having it.

Buddy fell asleep angry after that argument… something Breakdown was counting on.

His sparkling was notorious for being a heavy sleeper.

Breakdown ended up taking a sleeping Buddy across enemy lines and asked to join.

Buddy went to sleep an Autobot and woke up with a Decepticon badge on her shoulder.

She hated the Nemesis.

She didn’t talk to Breakdown for a long time after receiving the same work she was doing with the Wrecker’s.

She came around eventually.

It was a slow process, rebuilding their trust, but they made it work.

Meeting Knockout was when everything clicked.

Was part of her angry?

Yes.

Was part of her understanding?

Also, yes.

Buddy and Knockout are in the medbay waiting for Breakdown to come in. Buddy: “… You really love him, don’t you?” Knockout is a bit surprised from the question but remains composed. Knockout: “He’s the least bad out of the bunch here.” Buddy: “You didn’t answer the question, Doctor.” Knockout: “… I do.” Buddy gives a weary smile. Buddy: “You make him happy… I’m happy that he has someone else, but…” Buddy points both her swords at the doctor. Buddy: “I swear I will hunt you down if you break his spark. You WILL BEG for mercy when I’m through with you.” Breakdown enters as Buddy swiftly puts her swords back, acting like nothing happened. Breakdown: “Hey! Everything okay?” Knockout nods a bit scared from the sudden threat. Buddy smiles: “Just giving Knockout here a talk, nothing much.”

Knockout never thought a youngling would make him feel more nervous than Megatron walking into his medbay.

Speaking of other Decepticon’s, Buddy hated almost every single one of them.

Starscream and Megatron were at the top of her list.

The youngling knew well enough not to make her new superiors angry… but that didn’t stop her from making some inconveniences.

Starscream: “You! Where are the new missiles!” Buddy: “Nothing is new here Starscream.” Starscream: “That is Commander Starscream to you.” Buddy does a mock bow. Buddy: “Well, Commander Starscream, we don’t have anymore right now. You used the last ones trying to offline Megatron again.” Starscream: “I demand you make more!” Buddy gives him a deadpan look. Buddy: “Yes, I’ll do that when I get everything else in the storage rooms fixed.” Starscream: “And how long will that take!” Buddy: “Given you blew up part of it, consider it a ‘long time’ until we get the necessary material to fix the breach.” Starscream threw his servos in the air and stomped away. Buddy smirked a bit looking at the nearby box with said missiles, safely tucked away and out of sight.

Timeskip to Earth…

Buddy recently begun to scout for the Con’s.

She was out with some of the Vechicon’s and Starscream as her ‘supervisor’, but she knew for a fact he was using this as an excuse to complain about Megatron and talk about what a great leader he would be.

Even though there was proof what happened the last time he was left leader.

They get ambushed by the Autobots.

Buddy is deflecting all blasts with her swords.

Eventually she is forced to battle Bulkhead.

She really didn’t want to, but his raised wrecking ball said otherwise.

Buddy sees an opening and manages to knock Bulkhead down, pointing her sword straight at his neckcables. Bulkhead just stares at the sword and then at her. She blinks as her steady servo suddenly starts shaking. Bulkhead: “Well, are you going to do it Con?” She quickly backs off, almost dropping her swords and looks at the ground. Bulkhead, confused gets up not sure what to do. Bulkhead: “Umm… what—” Buddy: “Go.” Bulkhead: “What?” Buddy: “Just go Bulkhead.” Bulkhead just looks at her confused. Buddy: “Are your audials rusty? Go!”

Bulkhead gives one last glance before transforming and racing to the groundbrigde.

Unaware that Starscream had seen the exchange.

Back at the Nemesis…

Starscream immediately goes to Megatron and tells what he had seen.

Now, normal Megatron would have asked Buddy himself for her side of the story given how his Second in Command tended to paint some stories.

Too bad Starscream chose the moment when Megatron had placed more Dark energon in his chassis.

Dark energon Megatron immediately understands this as an act of treason and must be terminated.

He excuses Starscream and calls in Breakdown.

Breakdown comes in a bit nervous but doesn’t show it.

Megatron tells him to take Buddy out of the Nemesis and terminate her for her treason.

Breakdown takes a step back immediately asking why.

Megatron glares at him asking if he wants to join her.

Breakdown just slightly bows and leaves.

Just before Megatron demanded proof when he was done with her.

Breakdown quickly tells the news to Knockout.

Both of them fear for Buddy.

Breakdown wants to break something.

Knockout literally knocks some sense into him saying that that wasn’t going to help Buddy.

Both come up with a plan.

Buddy in the meantime was having inner turmoil.

This had been the first time in years that she had seen Bulkhead.

It brought up too many painful memories.

She snapped out of her thoughts when Breakdown called her asking if she wanted to go out with him and Knockout for a drive.

Buddy a bit surprised agrees.

Breakdown catches Megatron out of the corner of his optic before they enter the groundbridge.

Through the whole drive, they talked about anything and everything.

In it, Buddy confessed to letting Bulkhead go, she couldn’t do him in after all this time.

She quietly asks if they are both disappointed in her.

They tell her no.

That answer was good enough for her.

Buddy did however start to notice that they were entering an area notorious for Autobot sightings.

But it was also Knockout’s favorite place to race.

Best not to think too hard.

They transformed in a slightly wooded area. Buddy looks around. Buddy: “Isn’t this a bit too close to Autobot territory? I get that its nice, but we could get caught—” Breakdown cuts her off by bringing her into a tight hug. Buddy is a bit surprised but hugs back. Buddy: “Hey, is everything okay? You don’t usually do this out in the open.” Breakdown looks at his sparkling, his little one. Breakdown: “I just love ya kid.” Buddy looks a bit flustered and hugs a bit tighter. Buddy: “Love you too Dad.” Breakdown lets out a shaky sigh. Breakdown: “Everything’s going to be okay.” Buddy looks at him confused. Buddy: “What do you mean—AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

Knockout used his electric staff, knocking her out cold.

Breakdown just held her limp frame as Knockout grabbed a scalpel and quickly removed it from her shoulder, drawing a bit of energon on the badge.

Enough proof for Megatron.

Breakdown sent out an old Autobot S.O.S while Knockout patched up the bleeding shoulder.

It took a couple of minutes before a groundbrigde came out.

It was Bulkhead and Ratchet.

Bulkhead stood in front of Ratchet and ready to attack Breakdown when he noticed Buddy in his arms.

Bulkhead: “Breakdown? What in the Pits is this.” Breakdown: “Thanks to Buddy having a soft spark, you got away.” Bulkhead: “And?” Breakdown: “Starscream saw it. He reported back to Megatron that she let you go on purpose.” Bulkhead and Ratchet both tensed hearing the Second in Commands name. Breakdown looked down sadly at his youngling. Breakdown: “…Megatron gave me orders to terminate her—” Bulkhead: “Hold up! You called us here to watch you offline your own sparkling!?” Ratchet: “Bulkhead wait, I think he has more to say.” Breakdown: “ Obvoiusly there is no way I’m terminating my own child Bulk.” Ratchet: “See.” Breakdown: “That’s why I’m giving her to you.” Bulkhead and Ratchet: “What?!” Breakdown: “Buddy was never Con material. I should have never taken her to the other side and now termination looming over her helm… she’ll be safer with you Bots.” Bulkhead: “What do you mean taken her? I thought you both—” Breakdown chuckles humorlessly. Breakdown: “The day I told her about going to the Con’s, she tried talking and knocking some sense back into my processor. I took her across the line when she was sleeping, nearly cost my entire relationship with her. Bulkhead, this is my last chance to make it up to her, give her a fighting chance to live for a cause she can fight for.” Ratchet looks angrily at the Ex-Wrecker. Bulkhead is quiet for a couple of seconds. Bulkhead: “…Pass her over.” Breakdown hesitates a bit before gently placing Buddy into Bulkhead’s arms. Breakdown nods at the two bots before turning to Knockout and start to head out. Bulkhead: “Breakdown.” Breakdown stops. Breakdown: “Yeah?” Bulkhead: “Anything else I should know about her?” Breakdown: “She’s still the same grump Bulkhead… but do watch out for her swords.” With that Breakdown and Knockout transformed and raced out of the area.

Breakdown refused to look back, because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to go back to the Nemesis.

This…

This was for the best.

Ratchet was making sure the wound on Buddy’s shoulder was properly addressed while Bulkhead looked closely at the youngling in his arms.

She wasn’t the little sparkling he remembered chasing Wheeljack around with her swords.

Buddy had grown.

She had hit a grow spurt during her time with the cons, easily a helm shorter than him.

As the three bots walked into the groundbrigde, Bulkhead was thinking on a way to explain this situation to the rest of the team.

…This was going to be fun…

[wilcze-kudly]

Using the Avatar state scenes as an example and saying this is katara relationship with aang is so vile 🤦‍♂️

https://www.tumblr.com/sunandmoongobrrr/662596151677190144?source=share

Ugh this take again. It honestly always exhausts me to see this because the thing about Aang going into the Avatar state is that it is, at it's core, a defence mechanism. Aang goes into it in life threatening situations, or otherwise, incredibly distressing situations. I've even pointed out its similarities to panic attacks:

Katara is an incredibly empathetic person, and she is able to emphasise with Aang's pain. Because a) she's just that type of person and b) her and Aang share the trauma of genocide and loss.

Katara's interactions with Aang when he is in the Avatar's state aren't based around tempering his anger, but providing comfort and reassurance. It almost seems that Katara just reminding Aang that she is there and that she cares is usually enough to calm him which makes sense. Because, at the core of it, Aang's greatest pain, likely the root of most of his nrgative emotions is that he is the last airbender. His people are dead, have been dead for ages. He is alone, the last of his kind, and it destroys him.

Aang: [To the winged-lemur.] You, me and Appa; we're all that's left of this place. [Looks at the lemur.] We have to stick together.

Enter Katara, who reassures Aang that she is with him, that she cares, that she won't leave him. Because she sees that he is hurting. She hugs him as normal people hug their friend when they are upset, and later, when their relationship is more established, it's just enough for her to make eye contact with him and remind him that she's there.

Katara : Aang! I know you're upset and I know how hard it is to lose the people you love. I went through the same thing when I lost my mom. Monk Gyatso and the other airbenders may be gone, but you still have a family. Sokka and I! We're your family now!

And I truly don't think Katara does this out of a sense of obligation or fear. She does this because she sees her friend, and later, romantic partner, is hurting. And she knows that pain intimately. So she offers her comfort. Of her own free will, because she cares.

Katara : Do you remember when we were at the air temple and you found Monk Gyatso's skeleton? It must have been so horrible and traumatic for you. I saw you get so upset that you weren't even you anymore. I'm not saying the Avatar State doesn't have incredible and helpful power ... but you have to understand ... for the people who love you, watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary.

I think the emphasis on "the people who love you" is important here. Katara isn't afraid of the Avatar state itself. She is saddened and scared for Aang, because she knows he is in pain. And he is someone she loves, be that platonically, or romantically.

Side note; I always found it so cool that when Aang went into the Avatar State in the Avatar State episode and wreaked havoc on general Fong's base, Katara, who was literally in the middle of it, remained completely unharmed.

See, the theme with Avatar is that holding onto anger and pain can be incredibly self destructive. We see this, of course, with Zuko, but also with Aang and Katara.

Of course, we're shown how one's anger affects others, but we also see how painful it can be on oneself. Which is a very poignant theme that isn't often explored.

This is what Aang was trying to communicate to Katara in The Southern Raiders. And this is what people like this, who commented under OP's post don't get.

Oh, something crazy? Like for example going against her entire morality and do something she might regret for the rest of her life? That type of crazy? Hell, look at how strongly "The Southern Raiders" ties back to "The Puppetmaster", an episode about a victimised Southern Waterbender driven to near madness by her grief pain, and rage.

Aang isn't stopping Katara from feeling anger, he's trying to make sure she doesn't do something that will weigh on her and compromise her morals and ideals, because he knows how important they are to her.

Aang: The monks used to say that revenge is like a two-headed rat viper. While you watch your enemy go down, you're being poisoned yourself.

Hell, he even supports and believes in her, letting her take Appa and believing she would make the choice right for her. Which she did, in the end.

Aang: I wasn't planning to. This is a journey you need to take. You need to face this man. But when you do, please don't choose revenge. Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.

And no, I don't think he was trying to save face, since he has never had a problem disagreeing with Katara before, for example in the Avatar State episode, where he followed his sense of duty as the Avatar, despite acknowledging and valuing her criticisms of the matter.

Aang and Katara's relationship is one of mutual support, particularly in helping alleviate each others pain, since they are both genocide survivours, both lost a parental figure to the fire nation, both value their cultures and desperately try to perserve them etc.

I think some excellent aymbolism of this can be in how Aang tries to help Katara with her dismay and discomfort around losing her mother's necklace, something she's expressed was very valuable to her due to her loss. First by making a symbollic replacement, and then risking himself by retrieving the necklace from Zuko.

I also genuinely enjoy that in both of these instances, Katara put the necklace on herself? Like it would be so easy to just make a cliche meaningful scene where Aang puts it on her and "proposes" but theres almost something more appealing to me of Katara taking the necklace from Aang and putting it on completely on her own.

Katara does not need Aang to calm her down when she's angry, because, with the exception of the Southern Raiders, her anger is usually benign squabbling which is completely normal 14 year old behaviour. Wheras for Aang, his anger usually rears its head on rare occasions when he's in deep distress.

But Aang is there to comfort Katara, to bolster her confidence, to support her, make sure she's having fun almost whenever she needs it.

These are just a few examples of Aang providing comfort to Katara.

These actions may not be as bombastic and awe worthy as Katara ripping Aang out of a state of deity like power, but they are nonetheless important to Katara and make a big difference.

Aang and Katara's live language with each other is providing comfort, in any way they can. Be it by alleviating anger and pain, making the other feel good about themself, or connecting over the horrific genocides that brutally deprived them of their loved ones. You know, just normal couple things 💗

And this is where I could slander Zutara, but I'll simply tactfully say that Zuko... prioritised things other than Katara's comfort and happiness.

Also, incredibly rich that one of OP's examples of Aang going into the Avatar state out of anger was in the comics. OP neglected, however, to include the scene leading up to this where Aang is extremely calm and nonconfrontational until Zuko grabs Katara and refuses to let go of her despite both Aang and Katara telling him he's hurting her and then attacking Aang after Aang knocks him away from Katara.

Like hun this is not a good look.

And another point I'd like to raise is this persob in the comments who apparently watched the show blindfolded.

why are we still here just to suffer etc etc. Like have you folks even watched the show why do you have beef with a twelve year old who commited the crime of loving a girl his age. If you're that fucking upset about it you can just not have him do that in your mind palace you don't have to pick violence.

Aang is a genuinely amazing character who deserves so much more than what his haters say. It's fine if he's not your fave character I just don't understand why people have to be dicks about it.

Genuinely the only good thing I get from examining this type of bullshit rethoric is that it lets me inspect Kataang more closely and find new things I genuinely love about it.

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Twenty-One

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Twenty-One: Escaping the Locker

Summary: (Y/N) and the crew get out of the Locker, and now it's time to plan.

            The following morning—if time passed in the Land of the Dead—the sun beat down on all of them. The rum had finally dried up, and they had very little supplies left to sustain them until the Black Pearl made it back to the Land of the Living.

            “If we cannot escape these doldrums before night, I fear we will sail on trackless seas,” said Tia Dalma darkly as she looked out at the sun. “Doomed to roam the reach between worlds. Forever.”

            “With no water, forever seems to be arriving a mite too soon,” said Gibbs grimly.

            Will looked at Barbossa. “Why doesn’t he do something? There’s no sense to it. And the green flash happens at sunset, not sunrise.”

            “ ‘Over the edge,’ ” recalled Gibbs from the charts. “Ah, it’s driving me over the blooming edge. Sunrises don’t set.”

            “What if there was another clue in the charts?” said (Y/N), appearing on deck.

            For a moment, Tia Dalma, Jack, Barbossa, Will, and Elizabeth just stared at them. After the discussion in the night, the knowledge of what they were, the power they possessed, and the danger they were in weighed heavy.

            “What?” said (Y/N), furrowing their brow.

            “Nothing, nothing,” said Jack, waving a hand. He spread the charts out on the floor, and (Y/N) sat down. “Take a look as much as you want.”

            (Y/N) looked at the words “Sunrise sets, flash of green.” Since that didn’t feel clear, (Y/N) looked at the rest of the disks. They ran their finger of the seam until they found more black marks—cut off letters. (Y/N) spun it, held their breath, and waited. The two pieces created words, and (Y/N) tilted their head.

            “ ‘Up is down,’ ” they read aloud.

            “Well, that’s maddeningly unhelpful,” said Jack. “Why are these things never clear?” He stared at the map long and hard, and he frowned as the warring voices in his head argued around him.

            “Sunrise sets. Up is down.” (Y/N) looked intensely at the map. “Both have opposites. It must mean something.”

            “Oh.” Jack leaned forward and spun the center disk around so that the warm, sunlit design faced up. “Not sunset. Sun down.” The ship in the drawing was upside down in the darkness. “And rise. Up.”

            “When the sun goes down…it’ll be sunrise?” said (Y/N), seeing the logic (but only the sense that riddles had their own ways of making sense and magic really didn’t have to have normal logic or physics).

            Jack grinned and ran to the side of the ship. “What is that?” he said, getting people to follow him.

            (Y/N) ran with him. “What?”

            “Where?” said Will.

            “There,” lied Jack.

            He winked at (Y/N), and they understood. He ran to the other side of the boat, and (Y/N) ran with him. More crewmen followed, and the ship rocked. Back and forth the group ran, letting the Pearl lean starboard and port with increasing amplitude.

            “They’re rocking the ship,” said Barbossa.

            “We’re rocking the ship!” said Gibbs brightly even if he had no idea what they were doing.

            Barbossa looked at the charts and saw the words they’d found. “Aye! They’re onto it! Time it with the swell.”

            The ship continued to rock, and the crew continued to run. Belowdecks, Barbossa got them to loose the cannons, which added to the torque. As they ran, Tia Dalma moved next to (Y/N).

            “We need a wave to push us over,” said Tia Dalma.

            “That would be helpful,” said (Y/N), continuing to run.

            They grabbed onto the railing and held on for dear life as the ship sent several people plummeting to their death as cargo landed on them. they winced.

            Tia Dalma looked intensely at (Y/N). “You want a wave.”

            “I-I do,” said (Y/N), panting as they ran the other direction.

            “Then ask the sea, child. It will deliver,” whispered Tia Dalma.

            They all ran to the other side, and the ship listed almost completely over. (Y/N) pull themself up onto the railing and closed their eyes.

            “I need a wave,” they whispered, not sure what they were doing. But Tia Dalma’s words had been full of confidence. And she had spoken of magic. Maybe, just maybe, (Y/N) could get the sea to listen. They felt a soft pull, and they let go of the rail. They slid down the ship deck, feeling the sea air whip around them.

            “(Y/N)!” shouted several adults above.

Jack let go and slid after them.

            (Y/N) felt the pull follow them, arching up in the air behind them. A wave pushed up above the ship. Everyone let out a shout of surprise except Tia Dalma, who smirked. The wave shoved the Black Pearl, and it finally, finally turned over.

            Jack slid down next to (Y/N) and grabbed them as they turned underwater. He looped one hand around the other railing of the Pearl and the other hand around their middle to keep them from drifting off. In front of the ship, the sun broke the horizon, “rising” below the waves.

            A green light flashed.

            The water rushed up from the depths of the sea. It blasted them all, and the Pearl jerked up as the water rushed below it to reveal the sunlight of dawn in the Land of the Living. Everyone coughed and spluttered, soaking wet in seawater, but they were alive and back.

            “Are you alright, Pearl?” asked Jack, pulling (Y/N) to their feet.

            They nodded and laughed in adrenaline-filled relief. “I’m great!” They still felt the tingle of magic running through them. They felt amazing.

            “(Y/N)!” Elizabeth and Will ran to them and hugged them.

            “Don’t you dare do that again,” said Elizabeth. She had been terrified of losing her last bit of family when they let go.

            “Never,” admonished Will.

            “It worked, didn’t it?” said (Y/N) “innocently.”

            Jack couldn’t help a chuckle at that. There was the pirate kid he knew.

            “Blessed sweet westerlies!” said Gibbs. “We’re back!”

            “It’s the sunrise,” said Elizabeth with a smile.

            Barbossa smiled. Then, he drew his pistol and pointed it at Jack. (Y/N), Gibbs, Will, and Elizabeth pulled out their guns and pointed at Barbossa. Elizabeth pulled out a second and pointed it at Jack. Gibbs grabbed his second and pointed at her. Unsure of what to do, Jack pulled out a gun and pointed at Will. He drew another and pointed it back at Jack. Jack pulled out a second and pointed it at Elizabeth. (Y/N)’s hand went to their second, but they really didn’t want to have to shoot anyone in the group.

            Barbossa began to chuckle. Jack grinned. Will and Elizabeth laughed. (Y/N) smiled and joined the laughter. They lowered their weapons.

            “Alright, then,” said Barbossa, growing somber again.

            They all raised their weapons with serious expressions again.

            “The Brethren Court is a-gathering at Shipwreck Cove,” said Barbossa. “And, Jack, you and I are a-going. There’ll be no arguing that point.”

            “I is arguing that point,” said Jack brightly. “If there’s pirates a-gathering, I’m pointing my ship the other way.”

            “The pirates are gathering to fight Beckett, and you’re a pirate.” Elizabeth aimed both pistols at Jack. He frowned and pointed both his guns at her.

            Will aimed both his at Jack. “Fight or not, you’re not running, Jack.”

            Jack aimed one pistol back at Will.

            “Jack,” said (Y/N). “If we don’t fight Beckett, he’ll kill us all off. He’ll kill freedom. The seas will be his.”

            Jack’s expression faltered because it was (Y/N) speaking, and Barbossa noticed. He stepped forward and leveled both pistols at Jack. Gibbs stepped forward with his pistol, and Barbossa aimed one behind him.

            “If you’re the last pirate, ‘Captain’ Jack Sparrow,” mocked Barbossa. “You’ll be fighting Jones alone. How does that figure into your plan?”

            “I’m still working on that,” said Jack. His gaze darkened. “But I will not be going back to that locker, mate. Count on that.” He fired.

            (Y/N)’s heart stopped, and the waves kicked up around the Pearl, rocking everyone.

            Nothing but water squirted out. Everyone fired (except for (Y/N), who just groaned at the ridiculous adults they were around), but seawater was in all of their pistols.

            “Wet powder,” said (Y/N), pushing everyone’s pistols down. “You’ll all have to shoot each other later,” they snapped. “Can we focus on surviving, first? We don’t have supplies.”

            “They’re right. Water’s gone,” said Gibbs.

            Begrudgingly, everyone stowed their pistols, and Will headed to the charts. He pointed to an island.

            “There’s freshwater on this island,” he said. “We can resupply there and get back to shooting each other later.”

            “You don’t need to,” suggested (Y/N).

            “You lead the short party, William,” said Jack. “I’ll stay with my ship.”

            “I’ll not be leaving my ship in your command,” said Barbossa.

            “Why don’t you both go ashore and leave the ship in my command?” Will flinched as Barbossa and Jack glared at him suspiciously. “Temporarily,” he amended.

            “(Y/N), you’ll stay with us,” said Elizabeth.

            “So that you can run off with the kid with you?” said Barbossa. He scoffed. “You’re not clever.”

            “Then I go ashore with you and Jack,” said (Y/N). “Elizabeth and Will won’t leave without me, so you know the ship will still be there when we’re done getting supplies.”

            “…Fair enough,” said Jack.

            It was settled.

l

            (Y/N) stared at the corpse of the kraken. From the ship, it was only a mound of dirt, a hill on the island. On the beach, its identity was clear. (Y/N) walked towards it. Jack and Barbossa exchanged a glance and followed after them. They stared at the empty eye of the kraken, unseeing. Killed and left to rot outside of its home, the sea.

            “I’ll get you home,” whispered (Y/N).

            They touched the rough skin of the kraken. Yes, it was a creature that had tried to kill them and their friends, and it had killed Jack. But it was also an animal, one that had been ordered by its master to do so. Now it was abandoned and dead outside of the sea, it’s home. If (Y/N) could control the waves, they would return and pull it back into the sea so that it could rest in peace.

            (Y/N) stepped back, turned, and faced Jack. “You can’t outrun this. Beckett…he can do this. He can kill the power of the seas, its freedom.” They looked evenly at him. “Can you let that happen?”

            Jack lowered his gaze.

            “I can’t,” said (Y/N). “That’s why I’m going to fight until the end.” They walked away to help with supplies, leaving Jack to stare at the kraken.

            “Strange kid,” said Barbossa. “But right. The problem with being the last of anything is that, by and by, there’ll be none at all.”

            “Sometimes things come back, mate. We’re living proof, you and me,” said Jack.

            “Aye, but that’s a gamble of long odds, ain’t it?” said Barbossa. “There’s never a guarantee of coming back. But passing on, that’s dead certain.”

            “Summoning the Brethren Court, then, is it?” said Jack.

            “It’s our only hope, lad,” said Barbossa. “That and the nereid, if the witch is right.”

            “She’s right,” said Jack. He knew that for certain. “Our only hope is a pirate court that is likely to shoot each other and a teenager. That’s a sad commentary in and of itself.”

l

            (Y/N) wrinkled their nose and drew up short. In the spring of fresh water, a body floated face down. Barbossa dipped his finger in and tasted it.

            “Poisoned,” he determined. “Fouled by the body.”

            Someone waded in and turned over the body to reveal a dagger through his skull. “Eh, I know him. He was in Singapore!”

            “Singapore!” squawked Cotton’s parrot.

            “Captain!” called Marty from a tree. He pointed to Ragetti.

            “Hoy!” shouted Ragetti, getting their attention. “We got company!” He pointed at the Pearl.

            (Y/N)’s eyes widened. A Singaporean ship was floating towards the Black Pearl.

            Click!

            All around them, the Singaporean pirates drew pistols and pointed them at the Pearl crew. Jack cleared his throat and pointed at Barbossa.

            “He’s the captain.”

            Barbossa rolled his eyes.

            The Singaporean pirates grinned and gestured for the Pearl crew to walk. They obeyed, and (Y/N) narrowed their eyes.

            Undoubtedly, they’d been sold out.

            But by who?

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

@aew-kun-age-regression

@grippleback-galaxy

@andsoigotabutterfly

@insomniacneedssleep

@painstakingly-juno

@kitkatlover015

@chronicallybubbly

@froggyisfriend

@elliottheidiot2007

@paastaboi

@urlocalsabito

@speckle-meow-meow

@dmitrytherat

@vanessa-boo

@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

@snowy-violet

@ceridwyn3

@heil-nah

@idonthaveanameforthisacc

@roo024

[badsugargoodpoison]

american-made | steve rogers

steve rogers × gender neutral reader

≈ 1.2k words • fluff + mild angst

You sustain a significant injury while on a mission. In your woozy state, there are some things you just need Steve to know. OR... You tell Steve exactly what color his eyes are.

warnings: implied violence, injuries (wounded side/stomach), blood and blood loss (though nothing graphic), reader makes it out a-okay but there's fear of death or permanent bodily harm, a little goofiness, unspecified relationship (i wrote it with a "mutual feelings but everyone's too chicken to act on it" scenario in mind, but it can be read platonically or romantically ♡), worried Steve

★ no use of y/n | no mention of body size, skin tone, or hair texture/length ★

A/N: Let me know if I missed something! I actually don't know where this came from, Steve isn't even usually My Guy™️ but... umm... my first lil' fic I've ever published, mayhap? I'm tempted to do a quick part two where romantic feelings are expressed but I kinda wanted to leave this as ambiguous as possible. Feedback is appreciated 😊

“Gonna lay you down,” Steve warns. The curves of his lips flatten into a tight seam as you nod. Then, the world tilts until the gunmetal gray ceiling of the jet stares you in the face.

As if they’re magnetized, your eyelids catch each time you blink. The warmth of the darkness tempts you, but you dutifully choose the daylight every time. After all, five minutes ago, Steve instructed you to keep your eyes open, and you'll be damned if you don't follow his orders—especially since they'd come out as staccato as gunfire.

He's still got his hands on you. One warm palm makes a pillow under your stiff shoulders, but the other, pressed to your waist, feels like the hot end of a poker—like a brand of his fingerprints.

The jet rumbles, and so does his voice, sure and low. You'd give anything to be pressed to his chest tight enough to feel the vibration of his words as they roll through him. Now though, all you can do is stare up at him as he moves back into view.

He's taken off his helmet to reveal a scruffy, sweat-soaked halo of hair. Afternoon light illuminates him in swathes of gold as it flickers in from the cockpit. With the blood on his cheekbone, the gray and brown grime settled into the lines of his face, and the bruise on his jaw, he looks every bit an avenging angel.

Or he would, if his brow wasn't pinched so tight.

Blue blue eyes search your face. They're shiny, so shiny you can almost see yourself reflected in them. They remind you of pool water, and of—

"Denim. Eyes are like denim." You state, weary but certain.

Steve's frown deepens.

"What?"

"I had these... these overalls as a kid—ah." You wince as Steve jostles you slightly, but it's not enough to deter you from your story. You bulldoze right ahead, and Steve's never been more grateful for your stubbornness.

"And I—my parents could never get me out of them. I lived in 'em. Practically. Never wanted to... to put on anything else." You heave in a breath, like a sigh at a story you've told a million times, not an attempt to gather up all your strength to get the words out.

"They got sooo gross at some points." Your emphasis on the words makes you giggle, but it also makes the pain flair in your side. Your hand smacks at Steve's lightly where it presses into your slick skin, and your blood smears against his wrist.

"I used to climb trees in 'em and... get cherry popsicle juice down the front but I'd still—still pick them out of the laundry the next morning." You drift off towards the end with a heavy blink and look off to your side into the abyss of the dull metal box you're flying in. It's obvious to him, as someone who's worn the same look many times, that the faraway glaze of your eyes is the sheen of memory brought to the surface.

To hold you any tighter would be to hurt you—and the tremble of his hands wouldn't allow it anyway—but the lump in his throat whispers that your sudden lapse in train of thought is a precursor to something worse.

"Hey—" he begins to say, and he attempts to unwind his brows so his solemnity doesn't startle you. Your focus snaps back to him with jarring intensity. Unabashedly, you stare. He finds himself stuck in your gaze as you slide your focus from one of his eyes to the other. You blink, once, twice, and then nod to yourself, though it's little more than a jerk of your chin. Steve doesn't have the heart to tell you.

"Anyway.” You pick up right where you left off. "They were denim and like the 'xact color of your eyes."

Steve feels something in his chest expand, at once taut and airy: he's a balloon caught in your tight fist. He smiles down at you as soft as he can. You're not finished yet—he can see it in the part of your lips and the shine of your eyes—and he is intent on listening.

"I was—was looking at your eyes the other day and trying to find the right thing. The thing that they are." Your focus drifts again, gaze wobbly and lashes fluttering to kiss your cheeks, but you gulp another breath.

Steve knows your strength is trickling away, that you've held onto consciousness with slippery tired hands and done it beautifully, but you can't do it forever. He wishes you could. He wishes you could stay conscious till he can get you to the medbay, because if you're not talking he has to bear the silence. No blood-curdling scream could ever compare to the dread of silence.

"Yeah? And what are they?" he asks, nearly whispering, and it seems to do the trick. The prompt coaxes your voice back out, and even though you talk past him, and ignore his question entirely to finish your thought, Steve doesn't have the time or the heart to care. He'll take anything he can get—whatever scrap of your voice you'll give to him right now.

"And now I know. They're my denim overalls." A small, proud smile tilts up your lips as your eyes flutter closed. You try to pat his hand, the one holding your insides where they're supposed to be, but it's barely a twitch.

"Now you know." He agrees, amicably. You're right of course, even if he's never seen the overalls you're talking about. Of course you're right.

The mild bemusement gives way to a frantic hammering in his chest; you haven't opened your eyes again.

"Hey.” He frees his hand from behind your back and tucks it underneath your neck, right at the base of your skull. Some of your own blood smears against your jaw as he thumbs across it.

"Hey, can you open your eyes for me, please? I gotta—gotta find the thing that yours are now, okay?"

You snap back to attention, and Steve's heart leaps when the hand over his grips just a little tighter.

"Steve—Steve I gotta tell you something."

You lose your consonants, mouth clumsy around the words like they're melting on your tongue.

Nat calls his name while you work on getting another sentence out and gives him a nod that he understands. The jet is landing. There's a medical team on standby. You're going to be okay.

"Hey, hey, why don't you tell me all about it when you're all patched up, okay?"

"Okay.” You accept easily, lips turning up again and eyes closing. The floor tilts as you begin to descend, but you're anchored by Steve's ridiculously strong arms and the hip he has pressed to your side. He brackets you to the spot with ease—Steve Rogers: 1, gravity: 0.

“I really like talking t'you,” you slur, and you think, through the daze of blood-loss and dull pain, that Steven Grant Rogers lets out a tiny laugh.

[pennotfound]

I deviated from my usual DNF today to write a little platonic snf fic because their friendship lately really is sweet.

So here's a little something I wrote this morning, based on my thoughts about what's been going on at twitchcon. Hope you all enjoy it :)

That's what friends are for

- a dteam fic

George settled into his seat at the table and poked at the food on his plate. It was mid at best, and he would have rather eaten at his favorite sushi restaurant, but he needed to do this.

It was the last item on his checklist - the one his therapist gave him several months ago.

What did she call it again?

Oh yeah - exposure therapy.

At least he'd been building up to it though - taking little baby steps.

That first step off the plane after it arrived in LA. Stepping out of the Uber in front of twitchcon. Walking through the door, and every freaking step that followed.

Through it all, Sapnap never left his side.

To be fair though, most of those steps were made with his friend gently pushing him.

At least it started gentle in the airport.

“It's ok.” Sapnap patted him on the shoulder. “You've got this.”

Several hours later Sapnap reached the end of his patience.

“George…” Sapnap rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, it's a fucking bathroom. Just go.”

By the end of the first day George was feeling better. He'd had several interactions with fans, each more positive than the one before. It bolstered his confidence so much that he barely flinched before walking into Komanche’s party that night.

Sapnap's assurance that there wouldn't be any opps there helped too.

And he had fun. More fun than he'd had in months.

The only thing missing was Dream, although George had texted his best friend several times through the night with updates, silly selfies, and more “I miss you”s than he cared to admit.

And when he got back to his hotel room early in the morning and flopped onto his bed, for the first time in months George felt… normal.

Now though… Right now he did not feel normal.

But like he said, this was the last step. If he could get through this, he could get through anything.

George took a deep breath, shoved a bite of bland food into his mouth and chewed silently while the sounds of idle chatter rang in his ears. He couldn't pick out any specific voices, at least not until four bites in.

The first voice sent George back two years, to a flat in London and a once friendly voice coming from his phone.

Loud. Boisterous.

Annoying.

Moments later more voices joined in, as familiar as the first. George closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of the tasteless mush in his mouth. It stuck to his tongue like paste and he forced it down before reaching for his glass of lemonade.

One by one, each and every one of the opps George had dreaded seeing pulled out chairs around the long table. Some said polite hellos to him or Sapnap, some offered sideways glances and eye rolls. Whispers to each other, wondering why he was here.

He fixed his eyes on his plate, waiting for what would surely come next. For Harry or anyone to make a scene and tell him and Sapnap to leave. But they didn't.

Why didn't they?

Were they planning to roast him? Taunt him? Threaten him?

A tap of a shoe on his own foot pulled George from his spiral and he glanced to his right. Sapnap gave him an encouraging smile, then lifted his glass.

George’s heart slowed as he lifted his glass of lemonade and clinked it against Sapnap’s.

His friend was here with him, and he wasn't going anywhere.

An hour later, the opps filed out of the cafeteria after an awkward group picture. George knew he and Sapnap would be cropped out of it, but he didn't care. Sapnap called up an Uber, and once they were alone he opened FaceTime. A familiar tone sounded, followed by an even more familiar voice - one that calmed the last few frazzled nerves that crackled under George's skin.

“Hey!” Dream said, voice soft over the muffled sounds of football echoing on the other end of the line. “Wait, let me go somewhere quieter first.”

A few minutes later Dream stepped into a quiet corner in the stadium and held up his phone again. "So, what's up?”

“Dude!” Sapnap exclaimed. “You wouldn't believe what just happened to us! It was insane and weird and maybe a little uncomfortable for Gogy here but he did it!” George laughed as Sapnap wrapped an arm around his shoulder and continued. “He sat at the same fucking table as like a dozen oops and he didn't have a panic attack or leave or anything. He sat there with me and showed those bastards that he didn't care. And damn it, I'm so fucking proud of this guy!”

With another giggle, George grinned, then looked at Sapnap's phone.

Dream blinked twice before the image on Sapnap’s phone started shaking with excitement. “Let's go! Let's fucking go! I'm so proud of you George!”

“Thanks.” George replied with a smile, shifting his gaze between his two friends and wishing they could all be together right now.

“So does this mean…” Dream’s face drew closer, filling up the screen in a comical way.

“Mm-hmm.” George nodded excitedly. “I'm ready. Once I get home, I'm ready to come back. Ready to post videos again. Ready to stream again. I just need one thing, Dream.”

Sapnap dropped his arm and pulled away from George. “Wait, wait, wait… whatever you're gonna say, George, if it's what I think it is then you need to call Dream later from your own phone.”

“Ewww, no!” George giggled and pressed a hand to his face. “I was just going to say that I need a big group hug. With my two best friends.”

“Think we can do that, Sapnap?” Dream replied, laughing.

“You know what?” Sapnap wrapped his arm around George again. “I think we can.”

[possamble]

realizing im kind of a weirdo about laios and marcille

[toddtakefive]

btw todd’s reluctance to join the dps because he doesn’t want to read (which is then accommodated for) and is scared to put himself out there (which is also worked through) being read as todd not wanting to go AT ALL, and thus neil making the proper accommodations (“todd anderson, who prefers not to read, will keep the minutes of the meetings”) and encouraging him to step out of the box that stifles him being seen as ‘forceful’ or like he can’t take no for an answer makes me insane with rage

[autistic-katara]

girl help it’s been months and the pining hasn’t ceased

[sysig]

In the fell! Handplates au what do you think gaster would do to protect the boys? If torial or asgore ever tried to hurt/take away or kill them would he finally snap and fight? I’ve always liked the idea that gaster (despite not being royal) is considerably more powerful then asgore or torial due to how versatile and complex skeleton attacks can be plus he is a boss monster who’s old af.

I would love to see fell! Asgore and torial absolutely get their asses handed to them by a protective gaster. Lol can you imagine their shock? (:

(I absolutely adoreeeee your art)

(Thank you! o/♥)

I think Fell!Gaster would still keep the boys as his secret project to start - Honestly, I really like the idea of him following the same basic beats as Classic Handplates Gaster! Constructing the lab, hole-punching his hands, bringing the boys to life and then experimenting on them in secret, now under the pretense of finding "inherent goodness in Monsters" or inducing it, bringing it forward, however he goes about doing that. So if they did find them, it'd at least be a while

But, I also really like the idea of Gaster still being hopelessly devoted to the Dreemurrs! That raising a hand against them would hurt infinitely worse than whatever they have to dish out against him, and that being why he takes their abuse - if he could only save them! If he could only show them a better way! Then they could all finally be happy, one big family! 💕

As for the boys and what Gaster would be willing to do to protect them, I think it would also be similar to what Classic does - put himself between the brothers and danger to the best of his ability. I do think it would be an interesting turn for him to have to choose between protecting them and his pacifism towards other Monsters if the Dreemurrs got ahold of them somehow - the internal conflict of finally having to face his own darkness! Even if he tried to justify it, I think that'd really be the tipping point for him :)

[a-wins-a-win]

unpopular opinion?? maybe?

Matt & Ivy have a really interesting dynamic!! both pre- and post-canon!! with or without romantic undertones!! either reciprocal or one-sided!!

and obviously it has to be handled with a particular level of care/respect BUT I think if we allowed them enough grace there is space to explore a really interesting possibility for that relationship.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Thinking about the two drabbles I did yesterday where Dean was a bit of an asshole, and I do hope that it doesn't come across in those, or in any fic, that I'm making Dean needlessly antagonistic just because I'm more of a Samgirl. Esp when it comes to him reacting to samifer.

It feels realistic to me, whether due to actual logical reasoning or due to his Various Assorted Issues™️, that Dean's obviously not going to accept his little brother having a relationship with the devil with open arms. You know, it's a combination of Dean's canonical Sam-Abandonment-Complex and also, it's Lucifer, on the heels of Ruby, and what's going to present outwardly as "Sam is making a bad choice and trusting the wrong person. Again. So I need to fight back against that," is really covering up the more self-loathing, "I couldn't protect Sam from Ruby, and if he gets hurt/used/etc again, it'll be my fault for letting it happen a second time."

In one drabble, that showed up as 'separate Sam from the reminder of his trauma that he's keeping for reasons I don't understand', which is! hey that's wrong of him to do! even if Sam is only being hurt by keeping it, what gives Dean the right to make that choice? But he is Dean, he is Sam's older brother, and he is going to make that choice to try and protect him, and I love him for that. Overprotective brother who's making choices without knowing the full story. That's the Supernatural way.

Just some of the behind-the-scenes that goes into writing, I suppose. tl;dr Dean is an asshole and I love him so much.

[castielmacleod]

The Crowley and Amara thing as it was in canon was very much a complete disaster but part of the reason I so strongly prefer Amara as Crowley’s kid conceptually over him having anything to do with Gavin is because I really prefer the idea of Crowley choosing to be a parent on his own terms because he wants to have a relationship like that, and not out of any sort of forced obligation.

[zerguette]

-sits- man have I been sitting all night daydreaming about sticks (Rupert), like sticks (Rupert) everywhere and sticks (Rupert) anywhere, but y'know sticks (Rupert) are good

(Rupert) let me draw the art i wanna make, please.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ft Gojo Satoru

— Six years. He’s loved you for six years. He was too young back then but now he’s not. And he plans on showing you that.

᧔♡᧓ Semi Yandere! Gojo x Fem! Reader

᧔♡᧓ Content: age gap (gojo’s 21 n reader is 27), obsessive behavior, smut, pussy eating, porn with some plot, cheating while in talking stage, petnames, praise, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, gaslighting

᧔♡᧓ A/n: reader always saw gojo as a brother since he was so young, and never really developed feelings for him. it was just lust taking over when they fucked

Six years of friendship with your current best friend. Six years in which her little brother Gojo has had a crush on you. Six years of you only cooing with a giggle as you ruffled his fluffy white head of hair before calling his doting nature cute.

Six years.

Six years that he’s waited for you, becoming more of a man for you. Working out, gaining experience. It was all for you.

You’re twenty seven now, barely any different since the first time he met you. Your soft features still as beautiful as ever and your body just as perfect as he remembered. He’s studied you over the years. Every single time you came over. Studied your patterns, your every move, your likes, your dislikes, he’d even gotten to know your type.

He’d loved you since he was fifteen.

But he’s not a little kid anymore. He’s grown. Twenty one years old. Mature enough to be yours, to take care of you. He deserved you after waiting for so long. And he would show you. Show you that you needed him just as bad, craved him as much as he craved you. He’s the one for you, you just had to open your eyes and see that.

Gojo knows you feel at least a slight bit of attraction towards him. Hell, you’d called him handsome so many times— even though it had been strictly platonic— that you have to had felt something.. right?

On his eighteenth birthday you were there with him, his friends and his sister. He’d even brought a girl, introducing her as his girlfriend to try for a reaction out of you. But you didn’t bat an eye, you were genuinely happy for him. It made his jaw clench, but he was reminded of why he loved you. You were so sweet and caring. A big smile on your face as you embraced him in a hug, giving him the present that you’d been so excited to get. It was something that he had wanted for a while. A part of you saw him and his sister as the siblings you’d never had.

He didn’t need your gift, of course. He had enough money to buy anything he wanted. But it being from you made it special.. so so very special. Especially since you had listened to him. And it was his turn to return the favor. The random expensive gifts never stopped, every time you came over for the next three years it seemed that there was always something wrapped and waiting for you. Somethings just never change, you thought to yourself, piecing together that the boy’s crush had never left.

Then his gifts started getting more and more.. well, whatever you’d consider those matching lace sets that were accompanied a little note that made you swallow hard. Followed up by short dresses and eventually fancy shoes and purses to match. Not to mention the collection of jewelry you’d gotten from him.

Then he was.. less subtle, sending small smirks and winks your way. Finding any excuse just to be next to you or let his hands innocently wander during a hug.

You were not going to tell his sister. You didn’t want there to be any problems between them. You also couldn’t just start coming over less, she was like family to you. So you let his harmless crush continue.

…

Gojo swears luck was on his side, the universe wanting to make things easier for him. You had a boyfriend, a guy you worked with who was a good five years older than you. Like he said, you had a type, and he checked out none of these boxes. He knew everything about the dude, and he knew that he was not good enough for you. He tried to warn you, but what did you do? You smiled at what you took as him being worried about your well being.

So when you came knocking on his front door, flinging yourself into his sister’s arms as you cried into her shoulder. He knew. That asshole had broken your heart. He’d deal with it. He’d truly make the guy regret hurting you.

You were at his house all week, falling into the stage of the break up where you sat in your room (with their house so big you were bound to have one if your own) watching tv with a tub of ice cream and a string of adorable laughter. Anything to take your mind off the sting in your chest.

Then you were out. Everywhere. Going to clubs and parties with his sister just as you two did when you were a little younger. It was reckless, what if you got hurt? What is someone tried something? You were a sight for sore eyes after all. He would make sure to never let that happen. It was why he always accompanied you, whether you were aware of it or not. It was no surprise that you were never able to get laid, despite all the ogling eyes set on you.

…

Gojo leaned against the bathroom’s door frame as you emptied your stomach’s contents into the toilet in front of you. Small moans of displeasure filling the room as your body slumped against it. After math of a night full of drinking.

His arms were folded across his chest, muscles bulging through the tight black fabric which was paired with grey sweats which hung lowly on his hips. Gojo chuckled, pushing himself to stand straight before walking over to you. Stooping down to your current height with the shake of his head. “You should know better than this baby.”

Your brows furrowed, opening your mouth to question him before your head was over the bowl once more. Tears welling in your eyes at the massive headache that had sprung to life. “Shh shh shh baby.” He whispered, “let it all out, you’ll feel better soon.” He soothed, pushing stray strands away from your sweaty forehead while stroking softly at your hair. Whispering little words of encouragement as he held you, smiling sadly when the hug caused you to break down in his arms. No doubt reminding you of your recent breakup.

“Here, i brought you some panadol.” He reached for the two pills and the cup of water on the counter. Letting you sit with your back against his chest as he guided them up to your mouth, bringing the cup to your lips right after. “Here, drink it all okay?” You nodded, swallowing down the water along with the pain relievers. Gojo’s lips pressing softly to your head as he continued to stroke your skin.

You’d fallen asleep. And he’d laid you down on his bed instead of yours. Tucking you in and leaving you to rest.

Downstairs he found his sister, an empty cup sat in front of her along with the pill bottle. She’d clearly been hungover too. “Where is she?”

Gojo gave her a knowing look. “She’s sleeping.”

“Where?”

“My room.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing, not liking the way she was watching him. Was she really that selfish over her best friend.

“Satoru.. she’s twenty seven. You need to get over this stupid little crush of yours and go find someone your own age. She doesn’t want you, she never will.”

Gojo seethed, fists already at his side as he stared angrily at his sister. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Satoru come on-“

“No.” His voice was firm, he didn’t look angry anymore, he looked hurt. “Just.. shut up, please.” A part of him knew that maybe he’d just never be enough for you.

…

Making his way back upstairs Gojo had a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs along with a glass of hot tea. He walked into his room to find your eyes only just fluttering open with the small stretch of your body. Blinking your eyes to adjust to the bright light while taking in your surroundings, realizing immediately where you were, and who was standing at the door.

“Oh.. Satoru, hi.” Your voice was timid, embarrassed to have been seen in your drunken state by the boy.

“Hey, how’s your head? I brought you breakfast.” He set the food down near the bed before taking a seat next to you. Allowing his fingers to play with the fallen hair from your bun.

“T-thanks.” You nodded, shifting to sit up before grabbing a strip of the crispy meat.

He wouldn’t stop staring at you, couldn’t stop staring at you. And you smiled in his direction, “thanks a lot, i should really get back to my room though.”

He shrugged, “or you could just stay, it’s not like we’re doing anything.” He grinned. “Yet.”

You couldn’t help the way your cheeks heated up at that statement. “It’s okay, i think i’ll just-“

“Stay. Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll even put on your favorite.” Reaching for the remote to search for your favorite show. You bit your lip nervously, not understanding how he could act so normal after all the inappropriate gifts and advances.

His smile never faltered as his hand ‘accidentally’ found yours, slipping his fingers into your own. Not allowing you to let go even if you tried.

…

The next few days were.. good. Gojo had assumed that everything was going well. They were going well, until you decided to ruin everything.

Toji Fushiguro.

A forty something year old man with two children. That’s who you were talking to. Gojo didn’t appreciate how hard you making things for him. You were supposed to be his and he was supposed to be yours.

He was tired of waiting for you to come to him, so he went to you. Knocking on your door with vigor and a small scowl. When the door swung open you were mid-laugh, Toji coming into view behind you with a glass of champagne in hand.

“Seriously? You’ve been ignoring us for him? Him?” Gojo accused pointedly, “My sister misses you, she’s been crying. A lot. Says you’re choosing a guy over your friendship.”

His jaw was hard as he fed you lies through his teeth. Watching your eyes widen as you pondered. Were you ignoring your best friend? You’d seen her just earlier today. You guys had hung out, gone for lunch. Talked about who you both liked with big smiles and non stop giggles. It didn’t feel like anything had changed. “I.. I didn’t realize- i’m sorry.” You didn’t know what to say, it made zero sense. But why would he lie?

Gojo silently cheered as you sadly asked Toji to leave. Giving him a small kiss on the cheek and promising to call him tomorrow. He was not very happy about the last part, but at least he was alone with you.

As soon as he left Gojo marched into your apartment. Nearly falling over his two feet when the scent hit him. Your scent, stronger than ever, that sweet strawberry smell that he’d grown to love.

“Satoru, i didn’t-”

He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. “It’s okay I forgive you.” Turning around for his hand to snake to the back of your neck, heart rate speeding up as he crashed his lips onto yours.

You whimpered in surprise, Gojo controlling the kiss as he backed you up against a wall. His lips quickly traveling down to your neck in desperation. “You know, i’ve waited so long. So fucking long. Waited for you. For us. I’ve given you everything, i’ve done everything. But it’s just never enough is it? You’re just too ungrateful huh baby?”

You moaned loudly. “Satoru.. what are you.. hmm.”

“I’m taking what’s mine baby. Taking what i deserve. I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m a man. I can take care of you.” His lips moved with force, sucking harshly at your skin as he kissed down your chest, free hand roaming to your ass with a squeeze. “I’m old enough to be yours. This isn’t just some crush anymore. I fucking love you.”

You could feel your heart pounding as he uttered the words you wished he hadn’t. “Satoru we can’t.. your sister’s my best friend. I’m still older than you.”

“She’ll get over it.” He breathed, making quick work of your tank top that clung deliciously to your tits. “We’re both consenting adults now aren’t we. If you tell me to stop, i’ll stop.”

Your mouth went dry, lips parting to demand him to go but you couldn’t. You didn’t want him too. What was wrong with you?

“So what will it be baby? Stop? Or don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop..” You mumbled in shame, avoiding his eyes as you looked away. Gojo’s fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing you to turn back to face him.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, don’t stop.” You said a little louder, cheeks burning up under his touch.

“Good girl. I knew you were playing hard to get.” He grinned, “You love the chase as much as i do.”

Gojo’s arms hooked under your thighs, lifting you onto him before reattaching your lips. Carrying you to your bedroom to drop you onto the sheets. Lips never leaving yours as you both hurriedly undressed. He was addicted to you, and having you set fire to his veins. This was all he’d ever wanted.

Gojo dropped to his knees before you, kissing lightly at your pussy before enclosing it with his mouth. Tongue lapping you up hungrily as you moaned, fingers finding his hair with a tremble.

“Satoru— feels so good, haah.” You breathed, Gojo burying his face between your legs with a tight grip on your thighs. Allowing your legs to wrap around his neck as he devoured your sopping heat. You were so sweet— just like everything else about you. And he couldn’t help but rut against nothing as more blood rushed to his cock. Finding pleasure in getting to taste you after years of jerking off to the image.

He’s seen your room more than you, always snatching a pair of anything he could find. Just to be able to hold you in any way or form. Feel you on his skin. Touch something that had already touched you.

Gojo pulled away with his face glistening, “Learned how to do this just for you baby. Wanted to be good for our first time.” He smiled lazily, eyes dark with need as he got back to work, sending muffled groans into your bundle of nerves while you mewled loudly. Back arching with the curl of your toes before trying to pull away.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo growled lowly, fingers digging painlessly into your flesh as he pulled you impossibly closer, tongue flicking at your clit before his lips closed around it. Sucking and swirling the sensitive bud into his mouth with a satisfied hum. All while you cried out above him, moans getting louder each time you called out his name.

It was like music. The sweetest song ever. Hearing you moan for him, moan out of pleasure, need, lust. Knowing that it was him making you feel so good. He almost came right there, determined to give you the best orgasm of your life with just his tongue. You tugged at his strands, your vision blurred in the nearing of your high.

“Satoru— o-oh fuck Satoru, ‘m gonna cum. Nngh, you’re gonna make me cum.” You moaned noisily, lewd slurps and sloppily kisses filling your ears as he made out with your wet pussy.

Gojo loved how much you were squirming, your legs tightening around his neck as you screamed. You actually screamed. He made you scream. His tongue was awaiting when you began to shake, toes curled and eyes rolled back as you squirted nonstop. The clear liquid gushing onto his face and tongue in long streams.

You whined at the overstimulation when he licked a stripe up your pussy. Collecting every last bit of your sweetness before standing up. You were panting, hard. And Gojo felt accomplished as he smirked. “Has any older man ever made you cum this hard baby?”

Your head was dizzy, trying to bring yourself back down to earth as you blinked up at him with the shake of your head.

He scoffed in pride, “Now try telling me that i’m too young for you now.”

Gojo was quick to lay you flat on the bed and crawl in on top of you. Consequences of your latest activities still fresh on his chin and chest. There were so many positions he wanted to take you in, but first he wanted to see you fall apart under him. See your face contort into one of pure bliss when he started pounding into you.

“You ready for me?” He husked, impressive cock already swiping up and down your slick filled folds. You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes with parted lips. “Ready.”

You both shared a drawn out moan when he nestled his cock past your tight entrance. Feeling him graze your gummy walls before reaching deep within you.

You felt so good, so tight.. warm. And he felt so deep, so big.. perfect.

“This pussy was made for me.” He grunted with a loud groan, slowly speeding up his pace till he was fucking into you with no end. Hips snapping into yours as his cock kissed your spot, prodding at your cervix with every hard thrust. “Fuck- look at how well you’re taking me. Fucking swallowing me all the way in.”

You only moaned in response, teary eyes meeting his sinful ones as he molded you around his cock. Making sure that you knew nothing but the shape of him, the feel of him, when you were done.

Letting out the whiniest cry, your arms reached up around his shoulders, clawing at his skin when you felt your stomach tighten.

You could feel him so deep, the roll of his hips allowing his fat tip to curl up and kiss exactly where you needed it most. The fast pace pulling short screams past your swollen lips.

“Satoru— haah, you’re so deep. I love it s’ much Toru. So m-much— ahh.” You couldn’t think straight, your brain only registering the way he was sliding in and out of you. It was all you could think about in that moment l, the way he felt.

Gojo watched you fall apart, just like he wanted. Your glossy eyes closing as your head fell further into the pillow, unable to control your noises as you got closer and closer.

“You don’t know how hot you look right now. I love seeing you like this. All for me.” His voice cracked, cock twitching in an aching cry to get its release.

“S-satoru, ‘m so close. Gonna cum again.” You choked out, nails piercing into his broad back as your hands roamed down.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess f’ me again hmm? All that denying me, making me feel like our love was one sided. You put me through a lot you know.” He shook his head. “If only you knew the lengths i’d go for you.”

His eyes were crazed, and a shiver raked through your body at his words, whimpering as you succumbed to the building pleasure with a mewl. “O-oh fuckk.”

“Nuh uh, baby. Apologize to me first then you cum.” His tone was firm, serious. He wanted to hear you say it.

“Ahh, ‘m sorry Satoru— ‘m so so sorry. You’re goid enough f’ me. Mature enough. You’re perfect. Please let me cum. I need to cum.” You cried, the man on top of you pretending to ponder your words which went straight to his cock before smiling darkly. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.”

Your body shook as you yelled out his name, your surroundings becoming blank when you began to squirt messily, again. The intense orgasm seeming to stun all of your body’s systems as you failed to come back down. Gojo’s continued thrusts keeping pleasure flowing through your sensitive body.

“I love you so much baby. I always did. It makes me so happy that we can finally be together. Fuckk— ‘m all yours. All yours.” He buried his face in your neck, his own eyes closing shut as his body trembled, stilling inside your warmth before you felt his cum pumping into you in spurts. The thick substance coating your every wall in white.

“And now you’re mine.” He didn’t pull out, staying buried inside you in hopes of you two being connected forever. There was one thing he knew and you forgot. You hadn’t taken your birth control in a while, and a part of him hoped that you had seen this coming. That you wanted it. But one thing remained true either way, he was never letting you go.

[nmakii]

GETTING CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT… LIPSTICK ON YOUR FACE

— alastor + lucifer + vox getting caught with lipstick stains all over them…

— generally gn!reader. guys can wear lipstick too smh

hehe i got a new lip tint (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) maybe alastor’s part is a little self-projected

— alastor

alastor himself isn’t one for physical affection. in fact, the thought itself makes him feel dirty. someone else’s skin against his… eugh…

though, when it came to you, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself; hands clawing and playing with your hair, wrapping his arms around your neck, pinching your cute cheeks, holding your hand… it’s almost as if he’d double-die without you near!

and the only thing he’d enjoy more than that would be having his affection reciprocated; interlocking your arm with his, a surprise hug from behind, a kiss on the cheek, they are all more than appreciated! especially the thing about kissing…

a kiss from you is simply just exhilarating. the suddenness yet sweetness of it, it’s truly the purest form of love, regardless of if it’s familial, romantic, or platonic— it’s the purest expression of your love for another person.

so, just imagine alastor’s reaction to your new lipstick, strawberry red to give your lips a glossy color, yet still light enough to appear natural. the pretty hue of red complimenting your face features perfectly by giving it the color it needs as to not appear pale.

absolutely gorgeous. so confusing how a simple amount of color could make you look as if you were an angel from heaven itself. you quite literally took his breath away from just applying a new lipstick…

at some point, alastor had reached some sort of limit when he finally caved into his inner desires, bringing you to a secluded place in the hotel, his hands moving to your hips and hair.

he couldn’t wait any longer to place his lips on your’s, your lipstick smearing all over his thin lips. kissing him from his cheeks to his jawline, leaving light pink stains all over his skin.

he groaned at the feeling of wet lipstick all over his face, and at the same time reveled in the ways you are telling everyone that the only one who could see the radio demon in such a needy and doe-like state would be you; he’d be yours to fool around with, and yours to do however you’d see fit. just as you are his— no one else’s. the smeared lipstick on the side of your lips should send that as a statement enough to whatever lowlife hooligan would even attempt to sweep you off your feet.

when the two of you had returned, it was a strange sight to say the least… alastor’s face and jaw covered with pink lips, and you with your lipstick smudged and smeared off your lips, instead all over you neck.

“well, uh… you two look like ‘ya had lot’sa fun…” angel said monotonously, awkwardly trying to keep up conversation. “ohh, most certainly!” alastor grinned, his transatlantic accent popping through the radio static.

he knows he could’ve wiped it off… he has a handkerchief in his back pocket, he could’ve easily saved himself that awkward conversation.

but, he didn’t.

could you blame him? he wants all of hell to know that both you and him off-limits for good.

— lucifer

when many imagine the king of hell, it’s hard to think he’d be a social piranha. the same case had gone for you.

who knew lucifer was still as pure of heart as he was during his time in heaven? and who knew he’d fall for someone so easily after the sudden disappearance of his wife?

when he saw you, it was practically love at first sight! your big eyes, your shiny hair, and those big pretty lips of yours that he just wanted to kiss so badly…

he listened carefully as charlie introduced you to him, trying to remember every detail about you and every feature on your face, stuttering over his words once it was time to speak for himself.

and somehow, despite his meekness towards you and your awkwardness whenever he was around, you two ended up in a relationship— with the help of vaggie and charlie’s meddling in pushing you two together.

the two of you loved each other, of course… but it was always hard to express. the only way lucifer knew how to show his love was through his presence and gifts. he wasn’t hell’s greatest kisser, but he tries.

and, today— it was your 5 month anniversary… quite a long time, the hotel’s been good so far, no major threats other than one of cherri bomb’s occasional explosions. and because of how long it’s been, you decided to do something a little special… put on some relatively expensive clothes and make-up your face a little bit.

when lucifer saw you all dolled up, he was honestly a little stunned. lips as red as an apple, hair as soft as silk, the words were stuck in his mouth. “w- er- wow..! i’m not dressed up or anything— agh, this is awkward..” lucifer muttered. “hey, it’s ok… this was a surprise for you, y’know?” you said, comforting him slightly.

“you look… stunning today” he smiled, carefully putting down his anniversary present for you on his work desk, still wrapped in a red ribbon. he made his way to you, hands making their way to your cheeks to softly cup them as he gently leaned into you for a kiss.

he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as you kissed his face all over, as if healing the wounds of his past with his present. his banishment into hell, lilith’s abandonment, they all didn’t matter anymore, you are the present and the future.

he wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug as he kissed your forehead, the residual lipstick from his lips smeared onto you.

lucifer laughed awkwardly before using his finger to carefully rub off the pink stains on your forehead. “haha… c’mon, i got a dinner reservation in the lust ring tonight…” he laughed, interlocking his arm with yours.

“don’t you wanna take off that lipstick on your face first?” you raised an eyebrow at him. “i mean… i dont minddd… so, it’s only if you wanna take if off” his eyes wandered, his cheeks growing flustered “hmm… nah. i want everyone to know you belong to me now.” you grinned mischievously.

and when the two of you walked out of the hotel lobby, charlie went to wish you a safe trip and happy anniversary before she noticed the stains on her dad’s face. “err… dad..? you gotta a little something there…” charlie muttered as she pointed all over his face. “ah..? yeah, i know” he laughed it off, proudly showing off to hell how hopelessly devoted he is to you.

— vox

vox was a busy man. from having many public appearances, to coming up with new ideas for voxtek, to putting out valentino’s temper tantrums, he barely had the time for romance.

barely. he loved you, truly. he keeps you dear to his heart, no matter how busy he’d be, vox would still make time for you late at night.

everyone had known you, why wouldn’t they? you’re the partner of one of the most influential overlords in hell, that’s a feat that is amazing to accomplish, dating vox in itself has made you into a sort of local celebrity; causing you to be invited to many galas, parties, and occasional raves.

and tonight happened to be the night of one of those parties. zestial had invited you to a formal dinner party, an all star guest list filled by many of the goetic princes, various overlords in hell, and other local hellborns such as verosika mayday.

“please, voxxx? just this once, it’s only like 3 hours!” you grumble as your apply a coat of ruby red over your lips, checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror. “i can’t.. i have a 5:00 with val and velvette, then after that, a board meeting about new gadgets to release…” vox groaned, already pissed about the day ahead.

“fine then, your loss.” you pouted, rolling your eyes as you left the bathroom and into the bedroom. “holy shit…” vox sighed out. “you look… really good, my love.” he walked over to you, his hands moving to your body, outlining the clothes’ stitching as he recognized it to be the one he had custom-made for you.

your hands rested on vox’s shoulders, forcibly making him lean over a bit before leaving various kiss stains all over his screen.

vox visibly tensed as his screen started glowing a bright teal, showing his clear embarrassment as pink smudges fogged his screen.

his breath heaved as his hands moved all around your body, desperate to find some kind of relief to his pent-up stress.

ending your kiss attack all too soon on his lips, you pulled away, your lips slightly pale now as you grinned at him. “spend the day looking like that and i’ll give you more after work” you winked, taking your belongings and leaving out the door, leaving a flustered vox in your bedroom, covered with lipstick stains.

“vox… the fuck is going on with your face?” velvette snarled. “it looks as if you got fucking mauled by a bear pretending to be a woman.” she yelled, her british accent making her trip over some consonants.

vox sighed, hearing valentino mutter some sort of dirty comparison of vox to a prostitute. “instead of focusing on me, why don’t you put your efforts into our agenda today?” vox frowned, his tone clearly saying that he’s holding himself back from releasing a flood of curses onto the two…

[lis-likes-fics]

Casual

Pairing: bff!Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 12.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, protected sex (birth control), virginity loss, friends with benefits, Eddie talks you through it, constant consent, humor during sex, Eddie calls you "mama" but no mommy kink, fondling, slight hair pulling, oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, a million different positions, slight edging?, L-bombs but not romantically, swearing... A/N: So I wrote this as a best friends with benefits thing and not a best friends to lovers, but the line gets blurry sometimes with besties. I really fucking loved this one because they're like...they literally never stop being besties, they're so fucking dumb, I love them. So yeah, this is platonic in the least platonic way possible, and I love that for them. Thank you so much and enjoy! A/N #2: While I was writing the first author's note, my typing kept popping my ears. *cries in adhd like a little bitch*

Eddie finds you in his bedroom doorway moments after hearing the front door close. He half expected Wayne to be coming back home early from work, but that didn’t make sense because he only left an hour ago and he probably would have called ahead.

But, no. You stand there with damp hair from a fresh shower and dressed down in some shirt you stole from his drawer and pajama pants. He raises a brow. He hadn’t been expecting you, but he isn’t surprised in the slightest. He doesn’t even bother to move from his spot, leaning back on his bed with an arm behind his head and a book in his hand.

“Hey, there,” he mumbles.

You stare at him for a while, saying absolutely nothing. You don’t seem particularly pleased. He stares back. Neither of you move.

“I’m upset,” you finally say, still staring, still standing.

If Eddie’s remembering correctly, you’re supposed to be out on a date. So hearing that you’re upset isn’t necessarily pleasing to him. Judging by the time, you should have had a very entertaining night. But apparently not.

He’s the first to move as he lets his book fall down to his lap. “Why?”

You think for a moment and then drop your stuff at his door, walking inside as you use your foot to close the door. There’s a long pause between speaking, as you use it to walk around his room and look at all of his stuff. “It’s sort of embarrassing.” You pick up a random pepper shaker on his desk, swirling it around and then turning on your heel to look at him.

He’s got his head tilted to his shoulder with a look on his face that reads “seriously?”. He sits up, lifting a brow. “I’ve seen and learned a lot about you since we became friends, so I doubt there’s anything you could do or say to embarrass yourself in front of me.”

You roll your eyes, licking your lips as you set the pepper shaker down again. “Okay, well…” you trail out, trying to decide how you want to tell him. “You know how I had that date?”

He puts his book away, crossing his legs and leaning back on his elbows. “The drive in?”

“The drive in.”

“What about it?”

“Well…” you sigh. “Okay, so…” You lick your bottom lip, trying to form the words. You’re never shy in front of him, so there must be something wrong. You chew on your lip, thinking to yourself with a heavy sigh. You plop down onto the bed next to him. “God, so, we got there and the movie was fine and whatever–” you roll your eyes, “–and we watched most of it but at some point, we started, like, kissing, and whatever, right?”

Eddie shrugs, laying back to stare at the ceiling as you continue to recount your night. “Yeah.”

“And it got a little…”

He raises a hand to prompt you, “Hot and heavy?”

“Yeah.” You look down at your lap where you fiddle with your fingers. “So we drove away somewhere more…more private?”

He looks at you, sitting back up enough to fully see your face as he smirks lightly. He gives you this devilish look that makes you want to hit him. “Did you...?”

You nod a little. “Yeah.”

Swallowing thickly, you watch his face shift as he takes in your demeanor. His head slumps to one side, his smirk falling off his face. “Oh…” he mumbles. “How do you feel?”

You stare at him. He can see you mulling over your response as you struggle to find the right words. Despite yourself, you feel a knot tying itself in your throat. You force it down and away, pretending it’s not there and hoping it’ll help. And it does…for now, at least.

“I’m upset.”

He cringes a little, lifting an arm to give you a place to lean into him. “That bad?”

You bury your face in his shoulder and pout. “Yeah.” You pull away suddenly. “I mean, I know everyone’s first time sucks ass and whatever, but, like…” You drop your head in your hands, wiping at your face as you find yourself glad for washing your makeup off earlier. “Eddie, I didn’t even…”

He almost seems offended. He doesn’t care about announcing it because you’re alone and also it’s outrageous. “You didn’t cum?”

“No!” you exclaim. “I…faked it.” You’re almost disgusted with yourself for it. It sort of just happened in the moment. He was clumsy in trying to get you there, but it wasn’t working. You just wanted to end it off and move on, so you just…made the sounds and the faces. He seemed pleased enough. “I feel kinda bad. I mean, he was sweet and all, and he, like… He tried, but…”

His question is crude with as little hesitation as humanly possible. Again, he doesn’t care about being awkward or guarded because you’re his best friend, and you’ve talked about worse, and there’s no filter with you. “How big was he?”

“Eddie, what?” Usually you wouldn’t mind his brashness, but you’re still trying to get over the events of a couple hours ago.

“Honest question,” he shrugs. “I just wanna know. Was he like…” he lifts his hand, squinting his eyes and hunching over and pinching his fingers together, “little?”

You shrug. His bluntness is rubbing off on you. You feel a little less awkward and you hunch a little less. “He was fine…just a little too…short? To reach?”

He makes a face, like he’s shocked and disgusted. He looks you up and down almost like it’s your dick. “That’s rough,” he says. “How many times did he cum?”

“Why do you assume he came?” you raise a brow.

He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Please, guys always cum.”

You roll your own eyes and push yourself off the bed. You’re roaming his room again as you mess with all of his stuff. You open his drawer and ruffle through his unfolded clothes, you pick up empty beer cans and turn up your nose at the smell, you strum the strings of his acoustic. You do all of this instead of looking at him when you answer. “Twice.”

“Oh.” You fake disgust when he looks at you, smirking and bobbing his brows at you. “You must’ve been really fuckin’ nice.” He makes this weird growling sound, and the “ew” that comes out of you is guttural. He snorts happily, and then his humor is gone as he deadpans, “Or he’s a lightweight. Did he cum inside?”

You’re sick of him.

You shake your head. “I made him wrap it.”

“Aren’t you on the pill?”

“Yeah.” He hums.

He watches you lean back against his desk, looking at this weird mask he had just sitting among the chaos. You move it around in your hands and force down the heat in your throat at the recounting going on in your head. Swallowing it down is a hard task that ultimately fails as he watches you begin to choke on the unshed tears.

He sighs, his chest warm with a bitter emotion as he watches your waterline threaten to spill over. “Oh, c’mere.” He stands from the bed, opening his arms wide to pull you into a bone crushing hug. It’s warm and it hurts and it feels so nice. He smells like he always does, green apple shampoo stolen from your house and cheap cologne and cigarettes. It’s a nice smell.

“I guess I like…I don’t know, I expected a little more. It was…really disappointing.” A couple of tears manage to get past you, and it pisses you off but you’re already over it. “I wanted…to get rid of it, and now it’s gone but it doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, but it also feels like everything’s changed, but not in a good way.”

He rubs your back, listening to you as you need him to listen. “I’m sorry,” he mutters when you stop. He sets his chin atop your head after a kiss to your forehead. Part of him wants to square up with the dude you went out with, but he sets that urge to the side in order to comfort you. “That fuckin’ sucks, and you deserve so much more.”

After a moment, you pull away from him, wiping at your face with a huff. “It’s stupid.”

“S’not stupid.”

You don’t argue, you just throw yourself onto his bed, laying flat on your back with your arms and legs spread so wide that you take up nearly all the space left. Eddie watches you lay there with your eyes closed and your breath slowed. He thinks you’re really pretty, especially right now with you wearing his shirt. He almost hates himself for thinking to ask–

“Look, it might be…creepy and weird to ask and—Jesus, if I’m being creepy, I want you to fuckin’ punch me s hard as you can—but, shit, maybe I should shut up.”

His rambling is cut off by you, still lounging on his bed. You haven’t moved, your eyes are still closed. You don’t seem fazed at all by his awkwardness. “What are you about to ask me, Ed?”

He sighs, sitting next to you with his foot shoved underneath him. He sets his hand on your thigh. You still don’t move, used to his touchy-communication. “What happened tonight fuckin’ sucks–”

“You say ‘sucks’ a lot.”

“It’s a nice word.”

You peek at him through one opened eyes. “You’re weird.”

“Nevertheless–” You laugh. He watches your belly tense as you do it, rolling over to sit up and witness his fumbling with opened eyes. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…”

You laugh again, and he’s happy he could do that for you, especially after your rough night. You’re happy you could ease his worries, because he was being awkward, and Eddie isn’t usually awkward with you, and you know he likes your stupid jokes.

He takes a breath and starts again. “What happened sucks, and—only if you want to—I would be willing—if you’re comfortable—to…fix it for you.”

You raise a confused brow, less confused and more vaguely unbelieving. “Fix it…for me?” you echo.

He shrugs. “I don’t like when you cry, and I want to make you feel better. I’m not a total expert on sex, but I think I know my way around it pretty well.” He puts his hands together like he’s going to pray and points them toward you. “If you want…I can help.”

You raise a brow and stifle the smirk threatening to grace your lips, ready to tease him in order to push down the flush of heat rushing through you. “You wanna fuck me.”

He raises his hands. “I want to fuck you if you want me to fuck you. To help. But I’d love to fuck you… if you want…me to fuck you.” There’s a pause. “Maybe.”

You look away, scratching your head in thought. “Since when have you wanted to fuck me?”

He smacks a hand down onto your thigh just to do it. “Babe, it’s always been on the table. All you had to do was ask.” Whore.

You roll your eyes for the millionth time. “You’re such a guy.”

He shrugs like he doesn’t care at all. “Like I said, guys always cum.”

You raise a brow at him, shoving his hand off your knee to stand again. You jab an accusatory finger into his chest. “Is that to insinuate that you’ve cum thinking about me?”

“I– Okay, I did not– Listen here, you little shit.”

You laugh out loud, still pointing at him to make fun. “I’m kidding!” He fake laughs, and you return the favor by tilting your head and questioning him further. “But have you?”

To avoid it being awkward, he just shrugs nonchalantly and answers the question. “A couple times.” It works, even though you flush at the answer.

“What? That is so weird!”

“That is not weird.” He hopes you ignore the way his cheeks turn pink, powering through it with more brashness and more jokes. “It is completely normal to think of your best friend when you’re cranking one out.”

You shake your head definitely. “No, it’s not.”

He challenges you. “Have you ever cum thinking about me?”

Without turning your head, you glance away from him. “I don’t think that makes it normal.”

“So you have, is what I’m hearing.” You turn to him quickly, raising a finger as you try to speak over his ad libbing. He thinks he’s really funny, and it’s gonna make you scream.

“Listen–”

“Listening.”

You huff, glancing away and then looking back at him. Well, not really him, but the ends of his hair over his shoulders. “Maybe once or twice…” you shrug, “Maybe even thrice, but that’s not–”

“You little freak!” He points his finger at you, his whole face wide with amusement.

“Hey– Be nice to me. Or I’ll cry. You don’t like it when I cry.” You pout to give him a preview. You’re sure you could summon more tears if you really need to…

“You’re evil,” he shakes his head, looking up at you with a huge grin.

You bob your brows. “Yes, I am.”

He surprises you. In the next moment, his arms are wrapped around your midsection, and your feet lift off the ground. He takes you in his hold and turns you until you’re being slammed into the bed. You laugh as you bounce, squirming around to push him off of you as he pins you under his weight. Both of you are giddy with the amusement, laughing at each other and playing along with the other’s fun.

When you open your eyes and the laughter dies down, you realize that he’s actually pinning you to the bed. It sobers you up almost immediately, and you realize that he’s really close. He could kiss you right now if he really wanted to. You notice the exact moment he realizes it, too.

You gulp and take a breath for courage. Your voice is small—awkward—but it’s okay because he’s your best friend. “You can…” you mumble. “You can help, if you want to help.”

His eyes glance at your lips, and then he raises both his brows as he looks back at you. “You want me to?”

You nod, trying not to hold your breath to avoid dulling the charged air between you. “Yes, I want you to.”

He tilts his head and the tips of his hair tickles your cheek. “Is it because I have you pinned?”

“It helps.”

Eddie backs off of you, sitting back on his bed to allow you to sit back up. You do, crossing your legs underneath you. He thinks for a moment, watching you as he does. There’s a long pause where the both of you contemplate something, unsure if the other has the same thing in mind.

“Before we do anything,” he breaks the silence carefully and articulately, and you can see the moment that all his seriosity has set in, “I need explicit permission. And you gotta let me know how you’re feeling. I don’t wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

You listen intently, nodding along as he lays down the rules. “Okay,” you say.

He tilts his head toward you, looking up at you through his bangs. His brown eyes are so pretty. You’ve always thought so. They’re so warm and loving, just like him. It’s the reason you became his friend in the first place: because he’s warm and loving. “S0?” he prompts, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You take in a deep breath and smile, lifting a hand and slowly setting it on his own. “I want you to have sex with me, Eddie.”

He visibly shudders, and you think he’s a sucker. Technically, he is, but whatever. “Jesus,” he mutters, running his free hand through his hair. Then he smacks yours away, and your chuckle turns into a snort. He always knows how to make you comfortable. “Okay.”

You turn your body to face him, clearing your throat. “So… How do we…?”

“Okay, so…” He makes a “shoo” motion with his hands, so you get confused and raise a brow. You slowly and hesitantly lean back onto your elbows, staring at him with all the silent questions you can muster. He rolls his eyes. “No, get up. Sit over there, whore.”

You roll your eyes at him in return, moving to sit at the head of his bed with your legs crossed in front of you. Playfully, he rolls his eyes yet again and shakes his head at you like he’s disappointed. Eddie turns to lounge across the foot of the bed, propping himself up on his elbow. “First, I want you to walk me through everything he did.”

“Okay,” you mumble, thinking back to what happened in that car. “Well, he kissed me. We made out for a bit, and then he pulled me into his lap.” You only glance at him as you speak, but he’s so nice about it that you don’t feel so weird talking to him about being poorly fucked. “And he took off my shirt. He was, like, moving my hips and stuff.”

“Okay.” He listens so closely. His full attention is on you and only you, and it feels nice.

“Then he, uh, he played with my nipples. You motion vaguely to your chest.

“Did he use his mouth?” he questions gently.

“Mhm.”

He shakes his head then. He’s still gentle but his tone leaves no room for argument. “You gotta say yes or no, sweetheart, or I’m not touchin’ you.”

That’s fair enough. “Yes.”

“And it felt good?”

“Yes.” It almost sounds like a question, but he understands what you mean.

“Okay,” he gestures toward you. “What else did he do?”

You think for a moment. It’s already becoming a little fuzzy as your mind becomes distracted by the thought of Eddie, your sweet, idiot Eddie, doing these things to you and making it feel good.

This is the same boy you’ve seen fall out of his van because he tripped on the step and totally ate shit hitting the ground. This is the same boy you’ve seen stuffing his face with marshmallows because he was dared to by Mike and Dustin, and he was trying to prove that he could do more than they originally dared for him.

This is also the same boy you’ve seen absolutely shred his guitar with some fingering skills you’ve been envious of. And the same boy who’s seen you cry a million times and wiped away all the tears with plenty of jokes and compliments and threats of violence as were humanly possible. If there’s anyone who can make you feel good, it’s him.

You shake the thoughts away in order to get them straight. “He laid me down on the seat,” you remember, “and took off his pants and stuff.” You don’t really need the “and stuff” but it does make it a little easier…for some reason.

He furrows his brow in question, tilting his head like he’s grossed out all of a sudden. “Okay?”

“And then he…” you stare at his Dio poster across the room, “put it inside.”

He lifts his lip in disgust. He’s done that a lot tonight in response to this guy. “That’s it?” he asks with more distaste than you thought possible.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your own brow this time.

“Baby,” he says effortlessly, like he’s said it a million times before (because he has), “there wasn’t even foreplay.” He sits up, “No wonder you didn’t get off, girls need foreplay. Guys don’t need shit. We just think about tits, and we’re hard.” He shrugs, “I’m thinking about tits right now. Hard as a rock.”

The face you make transcends the rolling of the eyes or the upturn of a lip as you scoff. “Eddie–”

“You gotta be built up,” he continues, brushing past his comment like he never said it to begin with. You consider his words, taking them as the truth because he knows way more about sex than you would. He’s no prodigy, maybe, but you’re barely out of your virginity, so he’s got more advantage than you. “Did you blow him?”

You glance up, a bitter tone in your words as you mutter the first part, “Between positions… yeah.”

You don’t think “disgust” fits anymore. He’s just annoyed and entirely displeased. “You blew him, and he didn’t blow you?”

“I thought the term was ‘eat me out’.”

He shrugs a shoulder absently. “Symmetry.”

You airquote your response. “Okay, ‘symmetry’.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” you reply finally, still tasting traces of your toothpaste in your mouth. “I blew him, but he didn’t blow me.”

Eddie makes a guttural sound to try to properly express the amount of offense he takes to this. “You know what, fuck this guy.” He leans forward, placing both his hands on your knees and holding them there as he stares at you with those big, brown eyes of his. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got you now.”

It’s easy to take humor from that to avoid dealing with the arousal it sends through you. “You’re real confident.”

He’s not pulling back on anything, he has no reason to. He somehow becomes more intense as he effortlessly response, “Because I’m gonna fuckin’ eat you out like my life depends on it.”

“I–” There’s no way you can respond to that. “Oh. Uhm.” Your mind is immediately a jumbled mess of fantasies and incoherent words and more fantasies. There’s a heat between your thighs and an anticipation in your belly that makes it difficult to think.

“Relax,” he catches your sudden daze. He pats your thigh like it’s just something that he does and not a preface to him pulling them apart and having a feast. “You’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

He gets up, stretching his arms high over his head to pop his back. You can’t help the way your eyes fall to the slip of his belly, spying a tattoo hidden away there underneath his shirt. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” He eyes you. “You don’t need any infections.”

You turn your lip up because you think he’s disgusting. “That’s gross, Eddie.”

He points at you. “But considerate.”

You get up specifically to push him away from you. “Go shower, you dirty whore.”

He winks at you. “Yes, mama.” You don’t know how to respond to that. “Get comfy, I’ll be out in a bit.”

You swallow thickly, trying not to dissolve into some pathetic puddle because he called you “Mama”. You’ve never been into that before, and all of a sudden, you can’t get the sound of it out of your head. He’s already long gone, leaving you alone in his room as you sit on his bed to wait for him.

You’re a total goner, you’re sure.

~

You’re going through more of his stuff by the time he comes out of the shower. You glance over your shoulder at him after the door closes, and you’re almost surprised by what you find.

It’s not like you haven’t seen Eddie shirtless before. The sight isn’t unusual to you, but given the context and the way his sweatpants hang low on his waist, giving the perfect view of his gentle V-line, his soft tummy. It’s a mouthwatering sight, and it’s taking everything to look away.

His hair is still dripping. The dampness is giving his curls a gentle shine in the lamp light in the room. He rubs his towel haphazardly through his hair as he speaks. “I know I’m gonna take them off anyway, but–”

He stops short when he finally looks up to see you. You’re rummaging through his drawers like the little thief that you are, your hand stopped somewhere in the second drawer in favor of watching him. But that’s not what makes him pause. It’s the fact that you’re in one of his shirts, one that goes down past the curve of your ass and stops short before even reaching your mid-thigh. Your legs are bare—you’ve discarded all your other clothes somewhere in the room and left yourself in some underwear and his shirt.

He always knew you were sexy. As your closest friend, it’s his duty to know how sexy you are, but this is another level and he doesn’t understand why.

Instead of pointing out the fact that his sweatpants are growing a sudden bulge, he gestures to the shirt. “Are you gonna steal that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He scratches the back of his neck, tossing his towel onto a chair stuffed in the corner of his room. It’s stacked high with clean laundry that he never got around to. He pays no mind to it when the towel and a couple of clothes fall to the floor immediately after.

Eddie takes a breath before he looks back at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles, raising a finger to make a come hither motion. You listen to him, walking over to stand in his space. Your hands rest at his sides because you always rest your hands at his sides, and, naturally, he holds you back.

“Remember,” he begins in a quiet voice (or as quiet as Eddie can be), “you gotta use your words. I gotta know if I’m hurting you, or I’m doing too much or too little.” His thumbs stroke your elbows. “You know your body better than anyone, but I’m gonna do my best to know it even more than that.”

You chuckle playfully. “Okay.”

“And you definitely, definitely have to let me know when I’m doing something right.”

“So you’ll keep doing it?” you guess.

He shakes his head and says in a flat voice, “No, to stroke my ego.”

You roll your eyes, and your humor is interrupted by his hand lifting to touch your cheek. You lean into it because his hands are warm. “You still wanna do this?” He’s completely serious, and a little nervous now as he looks at you.

You nod, raising one hand to wrap around the back of his neck. “I trust you, Eddie.”

He nods, mostly to himself. “Good. That’s good.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips. “That’s great,” he raises his brows. Then he sighs, glancing away from your intense gaze. “Let’s hope I don’t fall in love with you or something, or you’ll be getting your back blown out every night and twice on Sundays. Jesus H. Christ.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head at his ridiculousness, almost forgetting that he’s probably completely serious and you are about to fuck as you play into your banter. “You’re so–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. You’re cut off by Eddie’s lips engulfing your own, warm and soft and really nice against your own. You let out a long breath, pulling him closer by the back of his neck as he takes a step forward into your space.

To be completely honest, you’ve kissed Eddie before. You’ve kissed him on a dare, you kissed him to trick people into thinking you’re dating. Hell—he was your first kiss because you and some friends were screwing around and then you happened to be picked to be locked in a closet for seven minutes because you were at a stupid party playing stupid games.

So the sensation isn’t completely new, but the making out part is. Eddie is a really good kisser.

When he pulls away, you aren’t really expecting it. He seems pleased by your daze as he bobs his brows. “So what?”

Instead of answering him, as you’ve forgotten what you were going to say, you kissed him again. It’s really nice, kissing someone. It’s nice to be this close, to breathe each other’s air, to taste each other’s lips. His tongue grazes your top lip, and you lean into it, because you trust him and it’s nice.

Eddie keeps you pulled close against his body as he starts stepping forward, keeping you from tripping as he does. The back of your knees hits the bed, and you hold on too tightly as you feel yourself falling backwards. You laugh when you fall back onto the bed with his weight on top of you. He laughs with you, “You’re okay, mama.”

He silences you with his mouth again, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. He likes it just as much as you. Between that and his little pet name, your mind is swimming and your heart is racing. When he pulls away, it’s only to press his lips to the skin of your neck, suckling and nipping gently at the flesh as he does. You close your eyes, your fingers happily tangled in his hair as you keep him close.

“Mama,” you mutter under your breath, seeing just how much you like it as he nips at your neck. “I like that.”

You can feel him smiling against your skin. “Yeah? Want me to keep using it?”

You nod, “Yeah.” A hum echoes in your chest as he wraps his hands around your sides, lifting you a bit just to put you farther up the bed. He crawls on top of you, one of his knees settled between your legs as his hand caresses your side.

Your breath becomes thin when his hand smooths underneath his shirt, feeling the softness of your skin with a quiet breath. His palm stops at your belly as he slips the very tips of his fingers to rest underneath your breasts, feeling just how warm you are.

“Good?” he mutters, taking your earlobe so gently between his teeth and letting it go.

You nod, your eyes heavy like they’re glued down with sap. “Mhmm,” you breathe.

“Yes or no, mama?” he reminds you, gently kissing your lips.

“Yes.”

He smiles, rewarding you with another kiss as he whispers against your lips. “Good girl.”

You don’t have time to think about that right now. It’s too nice, too fuzzy. It sends a warm flush straight to the pit of your stomach and makes your breath hitch. Eddie knows and adds it to the list of things you like for tonight.

The slightest whimper slips from your lips when you feel his warm fingers reach up to brush your breast, gently groping you as he plays with your peaking nipples. He hikes your shirt all the way up until your bare chest is revealed to him, and he takes them in with an appreciative breath before leaning down to take one between his lips.

It’s much different than the guy before him. Eddie’s deliberate, licking and sucking and so, so gently nipping the bud. It sends a strange sensation through you, lighting every nerve ending and making it impossible to think straight as you keep your fingers tangled in his hair. You keep him close. It feels too good to do anything else.

You speak between breaths, your heavy eyelids and sticky lips working against your attempts to speak. “You’ve seriously cum to the thought of me?” you wonder, whimpering when his other hand comes up to pinch your other nipple between the pads of his fingers.

“Yeah,” he mutters, sucking harshly and making you gasp.

“Why?” you ask, making an attempt at playfulness between the haze of his ministrations. “Am I that irresistible?”

With only seriousness, Eddie looks up at you, letting his fingers take over in teasing you. “Yeah.”

Your grin falters, almost not expecting his answer—or at least the amount of honesty in it. “Wait, really? You’re not just buttering me up?”

He makes a face, a confused one that flatters you more than anything else. “No? You’re fucking sexy as shit.” He tilts his head, “You think I’m lying when I tell you that?” Eddie’s hand smooths down your side, gripping your hip as he goes.

You shake your head, bringing your knee up and sighing gently when his hand slides over the round of your ass. “You don’t have any weird feelings for me, do you?”

He pinches you, and you squirm away from him giddily. “Mama, I’m in love with you, but not like that.” He gently makes your side. “Now stop talking to me. It’s hard to kiss you if I’m talking.”

You chuckle. “Yes, si-”

Your words are interrupted by a tiny moan when his fingers graze the mound of your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties. Your back arches just slightly, the ticklish feeling making quick work of scouring your body.

“Does that feel good?” he wonders quietly.

You nod and bite down hard on your lip. The anticipation of it is eating you up. “Yes.”

“Good,” he lilts, continuing to brush his middle finger up and down the length of your panties until he’s pulling them to the side just enough to see you. Eddie licks his lips, leaning in to kiss your belly. You’re weak against him, trying not to cant your hips up into him and deter his work.

His finger caresses your folds through the bit of slick that had begun to gather there. “You feel the difference?” he asks between kisses.

“Yes.” Your voice is a squeak, and he seems quite proud of himself for making it that way.

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” he says. “Then I’m going to put my mouth on you. You’ll let me know if I’m doing too much, right?”

You nod. “Yes, Eddie.”

He smiles, “Thanks, mama.” He feels the way you react to that, the slightest flutter of your folds. He sits up just to allow him the access to slip your underwear down your legs. The little, flimsy material comes right off. He drops it to the ground and comes to kneel in front of the bed. You hold your breath when his hands close around your waist, pulling you down to the edge to bring you that much closer to his face.

Instinctively, you close your thighs. It’s hard to will them to open and stay that way with the way his warm breath fans over your skin, his hands touch your body, his eyes stay glued to your own, constantly asking for consent.

You think he’s going to say something smart, smirk at you and chuckle at your shyness. But he does. Instead, he just gives you a calming look and asks, “You still okay, mama? You wanna stop?”

You let out a gentle breath, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay.” You chew on your bottom lip. “Just not used to this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures. His kindness is honestly making your arousal worse. You feel like you’re going to start shaking if he pulls away from you. “Can I open your legs?”

You nod. “Please.”

He nods back, kissing your knee and smoothing his hands down your thighs, one on each side. The hand on the inside of your thigh dips so slowly between yours, seating deep between them until he’s slowly pulling them apart. The sound your thighs make when he opens them is lewd, it’s the quiet schlick sound that comes from the arousal that seeped out of you. You start to feel embarrassed, but then he sighs like he’s so relieved to see it.

“Tell me why you’re so fucking pretty,” he shakes his head. Your thighs are itching to close as you watch him lean in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh, just to kiss you. You bite your lip, nervous and so ready.

But then he stands. “Give me a second,” he says, walking away from you as his hands slide off your thighs. You sit up higher on your elbows, watching in confusion and slight annoyance as he leaves you on the bed.

“Eddie,” you call while he walks to his dresser.

“Hang on,” he smiles. “Jesus.” He does that thing where his tongue sticks out over his bottom lip as he sorts through the junk on his desk. “Not leavin’. Just lookin’ for something,” he mutters.

You fall back on the bed, willing your heart to calm. He makes a sound of success, turning back on his heel to get back to you. You look at him and watch as he cards his fingers through his hair. He pulls it back into a ponytail, wrapping a hair tie around it to make a messy bun.

You flush at the sight because not even a moment later, he’s on his knees again right between yours. “You can’t be serious,” you say.

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” he replies, looking at you excitedly. His hands land on your thighs again, keeping them spread apart as he pulls you again to the very edge of the bed. “I’d say hold on tight, but there’s nothing to hold onto so… Enjoy!”

He dives between your thighs, and the heat of his mouth latches onto your pussy. Your mouth slips open and a deep moan rumbles out of you. Your thighs close around his head as you feel his tongue licking at you, lapping at your folds as he delves between them.

“Eddie,” you call, one of your hands reaching down to touch the top of his head, trying to find some purchase at his hair. His tongue swirls around your clit, and you’re a total goner when his lips close around it and suck. You mewl at the unfamiliar feeling, enjoying every bit of it with an immense amount of pleasure.

You’d expected him to go slow, hesitant little licks against your folds as he worries about overwhelming you. But this is not that. It’s hot and heavy with deep strokes of his tongue and the tiniest nips of his teeth. There’s no way to keep yourself calm. Your hips are tilting up into his mouth, meaning he has to hold you down with his arms wrapped around your thighs.

Eddie seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He moans into you, heavy breaths fanning over your skin as he eats you out “like his life depends on it”. Your open-mouthed moans encourage him, especially when you say his name in this high-pitched gasp and slam your eyes shut. Your ankles hook behind him, pulling him in closer.

Eddie’s making the most obscene sounds—sounds worse than what you’re making. He slurps and laps at you like a dog drinking water. You’d call him a whore again if you could think of humor at the moment, but the only thing you want to tell him is to keep going and never stop.

When he pulls his mouth off of you, you whine. He smiles, knowing he’s doing a good job as he shushes you gently. “It’s okay, I’m not stopping,” he says. In the next moment, you feel his hand cup your pussy. “I’m gonna put my fingers inside of you. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Please, Eddie.”

His fingers tease your entrance, though you don’t think he means to. He looks at you as he prods a finger at the seam of your cunt, slowly pushing it in until they part around him. A short “ah” sound is what he hears as he presses his finger inside of you, moving slowly until he’s got it all the way in. “Good?” he checks, the slightest thrusts moving in and out of you as he does.

Your nods are becoming insistent. “Yes, Eddie.”

“You want more, mama?”

“Yes, please.” He loves how polite you are. You’re usually so mean—though, he loves that about you, too. It just means you love him.

He sets a steady rhythm, one that’s still slow as he focuses in on your face, the way it shifts and squints at every little push of his thick finger. It feels really nice, the way he takes his time with you, making sure you feel everything he gives you.

“M’gonna add another. You ready?”

“Yeah.” He rewards you with a second finger, pushing it inside along the first and stretching you out for him some more. He thrusts them in and out, a slow and steady motion slowly building as he massages those inner parts of you. He curls them, and they press against a spongy point inside of you that has you rolling your eyes. “That feels good, Eddie. Don’t stop.”

He smiles at your initiative, giving you what you want with as much enthusiasm as you give in wanting it. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lick at your pussy. You’re wetting his fingers so nicely, making it so easy to slip them in and out of you.

His lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks on it while you whine, while his fingers curl inside of you with every intent of coaxing an orgasm out of you. Little ramblings fall from your tongue as you grind against his. He's greedy in the way he licks around his fingers, over your clit, tasting your arousal as it seeps out of you.

A knot is tightening in your belly. Your hips reach for him with each little nuance of his skilled fingers as you seek out the release he's promising you.

His name comes out as a moan on your tongue. If either of you hadn't been so preoccupied, he would have made fun of you for it. Instead, you're spread out on his bed with his fingers inside of you, a moment away from cumming on his mouth.

Your hips try to lift up into him as you get closer and closer. He holds you down with one arm, his lips and tongue and prodding fingers working in tandem to taste you.

Your ankles hook behind his head as your back arches off the bed. “Eddie,” you whisper. He feels the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his tongue becoming more insistent in the way it flicks and laps at your clit.

He makes these sounds of encouragement, humming and mhm-ing into you as he goes. Your release is like a burst in your belly, it starts there and swarms into your legs, your chest, the base of your being. Eddie’s tongue keeps licking and lapping at you as your back arches off the bed and your legs tighten around his head. You moan his name as white noise erupts in your ears, the distant murmuring of his words muffled as you try to cope with the pleasure that has begun to set every nerve ending on a wild fritz.

Eddie seems more enthused than anything else by your orgasm. Both his arms wrap around your thighs and hold you down. He actually stands, bending at the way to get closer as he longs to taste all the slick and arousal that leaks out of you. As he sucks on your clit and hums at the way that you taste, you grip his hair and pull him in closer.

But there’s a point where you think you might die if he touches you any more. There’s a gasp in your chest that rips its way out as you push him away from your fluttering pussy as kindly as possible. He leans in again, just for a moment, before he registers your body pulling away from him, notices the way your thighs unclench and your fingers loosen from his hair and your moans and gasps of his name turn into weak whimpers and grunts.

“Fuck,” you huff as you lay back on his bed. You turn onto your belly, crawling up his bed and collapsing into his pillows that spell like him. He watches, licking his lips and wiping his face with a smile.

“I was right,” you mumble, feeling your body coming down like you're floating back to the ground.

“About what?” You feel the bed dip next to you where Eddie sits down. Then you feel him lay back, his head laid out on your thighs.

“You're a whore.”

He rolls his eyes, smacking your leg with the back of his hand. “You liked it.”

“Doesn't mean you're not a whore,” you say. “Just means you're a good one.”

He sits up, moving over you so he's caging you in. His hair has come mostly undone by now, and it's more of a mess due to your insistence on how wonderful he is. His guitar pick hangs down in your face. Your eyes cross and uncross trying to watch it dangle.

“Well, if I'm a whore,” he bends down, his soft lips pressing into your neck as your lashes flutter, “then I'm gonna charge you. It's three dollars a minute.”

You chuckle. “Well, guess what?” He hums. “I'm poor, so no.”

He breathes in through his teeth, shaking his head. “Then I guess you'll have to work it off.”

You try not to be too timid as you press your fingertips to his chest, guiding him back so he's sitting up. You move onto your knees, pulling your arms around his shoulders and relishing his hands on your waist.

“That shouldn't be too hard,” you mutter. You are timid when you lean into him, testing the air between you to make sure it's okay that you kiss him.

When you still haven't made any contact, he nudges your nose with his. “C’mon,” he goads, his lips sticky when he speaks with all the familiar affection between you.

Your lip quirks a bit at his humor. You kiss him, biting his top lip just to confuse him. He laughs and you consider your goal achieved. You run a hand down the center of his bare chest, pausing at the base of his belly to tease the light happy trail disappearing into his sweatpants.

You slip your hand just underneath the waistband of his pants, tickling his skin as your fingers brush the base of his length hiding poorly behind the fabric. He flinches slightly from your touch, chuckling lightly as his hand comes to cup your elbow.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask suddenly, slightly startled by his reaction.

He shakes his head. “No, mama. You just surprised me.”

“Okay,” you murmur, your timid fingers slowly attempting to try again. But he just shakes his head.

“This isn’t for me. This is for you,” he says, pulling back enough to see you.

“Yeah, but,” you lick your bottom lip, “I wanna make sure you’re enjoying yourself, too.”

He licks his own lips as if to remind you that they were just wrapped around your sensitive cunt. “Trust me, I am thoroughly enjoying myself, mama.”

Your finger hooks around the waistband of his sweatpants, a slight pout arising from your face. “Can you take ‘em off, at least?”

His hands are already pulling them down his legs as he teases you. “So needy.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up.” Your response falls short. As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, his cock springs from its loose confines and reveals itself.

You flush at the sight of him. You’re not a cock-hungry whore or anything—but if you were one, you think his dick would be a perfect subject for it. It’s not like he has this perfect cock that was hand-crafted by the gods or anything. But you think it’s safe to say that calling Eddie a freak is a valid name.

He’s long, freakishly so. He’s got a nice girth to him, you think, but you don’t know if he’s going all the way in—but, of course, you could be exaggerating. You’ve seen two cocks in your entire life, and Eddie’s is one of them and, admittedly, the better of the two. He will definitely reach.

“What the fuck, Eddie?” you look up at him.

“What?” His face falls slightly, his eyes widening just a bit as he wonders if your comment was good or bad. “What’s wrong?”

“How the hell do you fit that thing in your pants?” You shake your head. “Like, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He just shrugs, but he’s a little relieved that you’re just being his asshole and not just some asshole. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

“How is it supposed to fit inside of me? What is that, like a foot long?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m flattered—really, I am—but it, most definitely, is not a foot.” He looks down at the erection between his legs. The tip is flushed, and it kind of looks like it hurts. “Seven and a half.”

“What the fuck?” you whisper under your breath. You reach down, brushing your fingers over the tip. He gasps through his teeth, and you watch the way it kicks up in response. “Sorry,” you tell him, ignoring the amusement in your chest. It reminds you of a spring, the comedic kind that goes “boing!”.

“S’okay,” he murmurs. He lifts a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb over the rise of it as he asks gently and genuinely, “You still wanna go?”

You nod, “Yeah. That monster isn’t gonna scare me away.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big.”

You shrug. “You know, I heard Harrington’s like that big, nine inches.” You make a circle with your hand, moving it up and down like you’re jerking it off. “You think it’s true?” You bob your brows up and down.

He shakes his head, running a hand down his face as he snickers at you. “I doubt it. He could be one or the other, but both seem a little excessive. Have you seen how tight his pants are?”

“Yeah… you might be right.”

“We gonna talk about dicks, or are we gonna fuck?”

You sigh, shrugging like it’s nothing as you look back at him. “I guess, we’ll fuck.”

He smiles, pulling you closer to him. “Well, then, c’mon, mama.”

You actually giggle, surprising him as you bring a leg to wrap around his waist, pulling the other up to follow suit. He kisses you, his hands supporting your thighs as his dick nuzzles between the both of you, kept warm and wet by the way your folds sit against him as it pushes into his lower belly.

Eddie reaches between your bodies, taking his weeping cock in his hand and stroking himself a couple times with little wavers of breath. You watch some precum spill from his tip, sliding down the bottom.

“You want me to use a condom?” he asks.

You swallow thickly, thinking quickly before shaking your head. “Pill.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

You’re touched by his consideration but you don’t really want to put into words how much you actually want to feel him inside of you. You shake your head again, kissing him quickly to soften the slight awkwardness in your chest. “I don’t want you to use a condom, Eddie.” You almost whisper it, but he understands.

“Okay, mama,” he whispers back. He kisses you, lifting you up from his lap just enough to tuck the head of his cock at your soaked folds. “You ready?” You nod. “Don’t hold your breath. Breathing makes it feel better.” You nod again.

“Ready.”

You try not to hold his breath as he slowly lowers you down onto his lap, splitting you on his cock as you take him inch by inch. At one point, you’re sure he can’t go any further as you feel him seated somewhere deep inside you. And he’s right, it feels really nice.

Your breath is so light and airy when you sigh against his lips, holding him tight as you bury your face in his shoulder. “Fuck,” you huff, hearing his own breaths pass heavily in your ear.

“Fuck,” he echoes. “Jesus, you’re squeezin’ me, mama.”

You don’t know how you feel about the way this makes you feel, the way it makes you act. Your voice gets sort of whiny, breathy, this little thing in his ear that makes his cock twitch slightly inside of you. “Can’t help it,” you sigh. “So fuckin’ deep.”

He nods, his hands steady and firm at your backside and your arms tight around his neck. “I won’t move until you tell me to.”

You just nod, knowing he’s not going to move until you give him an explicit “yes”. It’s a lot to adjust to. He sits really deep inside of you, and he’s pressing against a spot that makes you delirious with just the pressure the head of his cock puts on it. But when you can’t take the suspense anymore and you’re too excited to see how it would feel, you nod again.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go slow.”

You nod.

Holding your waist, Eddie begins to thrust his hips up into you. He does as he says and moves slowly, guiding your body in his lap so you grind down on him. A whine falls from your lips at the feeling, and you almost immediately seek out that pleasure with the eager roll of your hips into him.

“Not too fast, not too fast,” he hisses, lightly patting your hip.

You nod into his shoulder, feeling his hands roaming. His arm wraps around your waist, his other arm comes up to hook over your shoulder. He keeps thrusting, moving so slowly and filling you so deep. Following his commands, you roll your hips slowly into him, meeting each of his own movements in a building rhythm.

There's an ebb and flow in the way that you move together. Tiny whimpers fall from your lips, and his heavy breaths join them.

Somewhere along the way, it's not enough. Your insistent hips grind into him in search of more. He feels it in the way you breathe, the way you move, the way you hold him just a little tighter.

“Eddie,” you huff. “C’mon, I need more. Please.”

The way you say it is a little more whiny, a little needier than you intended. It feeds his ego, and he can't help but to lose some of his reassuring kindness. He starts making fun of you because he likes making fun of you, and he thinks that you'll probably eat that shit up.

“More?” His grip on you tightens just a bit. His thrusts become a little jerky, searching the same intensity you are. “You need more, mama?”

“Eddie,” you groan.

He pulls your face from his shoulder in order to look at you better. “You sound so whiny, baby. Like a little bitch.”

You roll your eyes because he's Eddie, and he calls you a little bitch anyway. Grinding in his lap, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. A strangled grunt comes out, and you smirk devilishly. “So do you.”

“Har, har,” he says.

“If this is all you can do, just tell me. It's okay if you're a one-pump-chump.”

You like vexing him. He likes when you vex him. But he also likes proving you wrong because he may be doing you a favor, but he can't let you go about thinking he can't fuck.

“Fuck you,” he scoffs. Then he's pushing you onto your back and wrapping your legs back around his waist, slipping out in the process. He towers over you like some wolf, bushy hair accommodating as his necklace swoops down to brush your skin.

“If you want me to stop, tell me to stop,” he says. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He guides himself back into you, embedding himself within you until you're full. One of his hands grips your hip while the other takes a hold of the headboard. It's this metal thing that squeaks whenever you move. So when he's thrusting into you with a vigor that has grown in the past couple of moments, it's accompanied by the constant whine of the metal. It's sort of funny.

His hips roll into you, waves of pleasure coming with each one. His hand cradles your neck, and you lean into him as he latches onto the sensitive skin of your throat, teeth scraping and tongue licking up the taste of your skin.

One of your legs comes up to wrap around his waist, and you moan as you pull him in deeper. His pace builds into this steady, needy kind of rhythm. The harder he thrusts, the more you clench, and the harder it is for him to stifle his grunts.

But you like the sounds he makes. Sometimes they're these deep groans that rumble in his chest like thunder. Sometimes they're these weak moans that you're pretty sure is him trying not to whimper. And you like the moans so much that you card your fingers through his hair and tug on a chunk of it as his head pulls back. His muscles flex, and his lips part. You watch his eyes flutter, this shocked whimper comes out of him.

“You did that on purpose,” his word and your moan mix together with the thrust of his hips.

“Ah…haha,” you gasp, nodding a little. “Yes, I—Oh, yes, I did.”

“What, are you a top or something?” he wonders, raising a brow.

You shrug, your mind a little blurry with the feeling of his cock shoved inside of you. “Dunno.”

He's interested enough to find out.

Once again, you're being moved around. You whimper when he pulls out of you just to sit you up again. Eddie moves to the head of the bed and pulls you back into his lap. “Let's find out.”

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your waiting lips. As you slowly sink back down onto him, your eyes flutter shut as you feel the way he fills you. And it only gets better from there as you slowly take him farther inside until he’s buried so deep that you can feel him pressing somewhere inside of you that you can’t quite pinpoint.

You’re fully seated on him now, eyes squeezed shut as you adjust to the feeling. Your hands come to rest on his chest, the fingers of your right hand brushing over the demon head on his pec. When you roll your hips and feel the way it presses inside of you, you’re immediately done for.

Your rhythm isn’t steady for a while. You move purely out of an urge to quell this need in the pit of your stomach. As you fuck yourself on his cock, Eddie’s hands hold your waist tightly just to have something to hold onto. You move quickly and without remorse, your head thrown back in pleasure as your hips lift up just to smack down on his lap once again.

For a while, you just grind on him, focusing on that deep spot that shoots electricity through your thighs. This pitiful sound flutters out of you, like a shudder running down your spine as your hands move to cup the back of his neck in your palms. His name falls from your lips with a plea, it’s a weak sound that would bring him to his knees if he wasn’t already on his back.

“Fuck, mama,” he huffs. “Keep going, just like that.”

His hands caress your skin, roaming your body underneath his shirt still draped over you. He hikes it up farther and farther until he feels your warm breasts. “Can I take this off?” he asks. You just nod, muttering an “mhm” as you keep bouncing with closed eyes. He pulls the shirt over your head, revealing your bouncing breasts to him as he takes a hold of them with greedy hands. He palms them, kneading them like he would dough. You just keep moaning as he builds you up.

You don’t mean to, but in an attempt to respond, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a repetitive “yes, yes, yes” that echoes in the room alongside his own loud, open-mouthed breaths. “Shit, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.”

That makes you whimper, moving almost ruthlessly just to satisfy the rising need in your belly. “Fuck, I need cum, baby,” you whisper, repeating that again and again with each little roll. Eddie wastes no time in bringing his large hand to rest at the juncture of your thigh and your hip, his thumb swirling insistent circles into your clit. You gasp at the feeling, which is way more electric than you thought it’d be.

It becomes a little difficult to think. Visions of Eddie and his hands and your bodies, and the sounds of your slick and skin, and the smell of sex and body wash and cigarettes cloud your mind. You’re on the verge of tipping over the edge, you can feel your fingertips tingling with the wild sensations of your pleasure, so, so close to you now–

Eddie pulls you up from his lap, unsheathing your cunt from him. Your moans and your breaths are interrupted, and this weak cry tumbles from your tongue. He grunts, laying his head back and making this “hmph” sound.

You blindly reach for his cock, trying to guide him back inside of you before he’s lightly smacking your hand away. “Wait, mama, wait.”

“Eddie,” you whine, thoroughly unhappy with the way the growing waves in your belly had begun to retreat. “Please.” You could honestly cry. It had felt so good—you had felt so good, and he’d taken it all away in a matter of a second.

“What the fuck, dumbass?” you huff, looking at him with eyes unfocused with frustration and face flushed with lust.

“You’re so mean,” he says, almost as put off by the failed release as you.

“I was so close.”

“I know.” He sits up a little more, moving you off his lap. Your arousal is coating both of you, your thighs are sticky with it, his lap and his cock is glistening in the dim golden light. “That’s called edging.”

“I know what the fuck edging is. Why are we doing it?”

He laughs at your frustration, and you want to hit him. “Relax, we’re not done yet.”

“Well, hurry up,” you whine, already trying to throw your leg back over his legs. He just swats you away again.

“Turn around.” You would argue, but you’re too horny. So, instead, you turn around so your back is facing him. His hand spreads out along your back, and you nearly squeal when he pushes you down so your face is pushing into his covers. He pulls you up so your ass is in the air, grabbing one of your cheeks and squeezing.

“You still good?” He’s checking up, trying to be nice even though he was just the cruelest he could’ve been.

“Yes, please.” He likes you like this, honestly. It’s fun to see you so needy. It’s just something he can hold over your head.

He lightly smacks your ass, not enough to hurt but enough for your hips to jerk at the unexpected sensation. Immediately, he smoothes the skin with the palm of his hand and hums. He nudges your legs apart, spreading you open for him just enough as he pumps his cock in his hand.

“Just testing out some positions,” he says simply before he’s guiding himself back inside of you. It’s a welcome feeling, one you’re beginning to become accustomed to. Once he’s fully inside, he bottoms out with a heavy sigh. “It’s good to see which ones you like.”

“I like when I’m being fu–”

You’re cut off when his hips thrust into you, an almost cruel snap that makes this filthy smacking sound. You moan, literally feeling yourself melting into the bed as one of his hands comes to fist the sheets by your head. The other holds your waist tight, keeping you steady as he begins to fuck into you.

You really like this position. Being on top of him was so, so nice, but being underneath him is a feeling that makes your brain numb. You wrap your hand around his wrist as your other curls in the bedsheets, mewling feebly with every snap of his hips.

It’s dizzying, having him take you like this. There’s a light sheen of sweat coating your skin, encouraged by the warm air straying in through the slightly opened window. His breath is heavy, and you can hear him grunting every time his hips meet your ass. “Do you like this one?” he huffs, moving his hand to wrap lightly around your neck. He pulls you up from the covers so you can speak, your bodies bumping back and forth in the dance you’ve created.

You’re being kept steady only by your hand on the bed, gripping the sheets tightly. “Yes, Eddie,” you moan. You like saying his name, especially when you feel so good. It’s like a wave through your skin. It falls off your tongue with ease. “That feels good.”

He’s happy you’re happy. He keeps it up, losing his breath the longer he goes as your loud ones mix together in the heavy air of his bedroom.

You’re so glad Wayne isn’t home because there’s no way you would’ve been able to keep quiet. You respect that man too much to put him through this. The loud squealing of the bed certainly doesn’t help.

You turn your head to his arm, pressing your nose to his wrist to smell him. He smells like he always does, cigarettes and cheap cologne, like leather and maybe a bit of metal. But under that, you can still smell it. Green apple.

You kiss his wrist, and something snaps in him. For the hundredth time, Eddie pulls out of you and moves you back onto your back. Once again, you’re looking up at him as he locks you in. There’s a wild look in his eyes that makes you breathless, and when he’s pushing into you again, you moan.

“Right there,” you mutter incoherently when he fucks into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer as you keep your legs spread wide. “Yes, fuck, right there.”

Eddie focuses on that spot, punching the head of his cock into it over and over again and watching the way your eyes roll, your head falling back into the sheets and your hands tightening around his arms. He loves the way your lips part, your soft lips split open by the feeling of him. He bends down and kisses the exposed expanse of your throat, sucking on the skin and nibbling hickeys into your skin.

When he pulls away from your neck with a light smack, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down so your bodies are pressed flat together, skin to skin. He ruts into you, pressing his forehead against yours as you both breathe the other’s air. It’s all heat and lust and something else, something hot and heavy.

“I needa cum, Eddie,” you mumble, “For real this time.” You manage to get it out with a minimal amount of stuttering. You’re surprised you were even able to put the sass in it that you managed. He’s made such a mess of you.

His thumb finds your clit once more, and he’s circling the bud with a fervent kind of eagerness. “Keep breathing for me, mama. Breathe in deep.” You do as he says, so much so that you get a little dizzy as the air comes and goes. You buck your hips up into his thumb, your whimper getting higher and higher with each swirl.

You feel a knot curling in your belly, followed by a startling heat. “Eddie,” it comes out almost as a question. You’re addicted to the way his name feels in your mouth. You repeat it over and over, squirming and breathing and tightening your hold on him. He keeps fucking into you, focusing on that spot that makes you see stars as he just thrusts faster until his hips are moving in short, hard spurts.

When the dam breaks, it's with a slack-jawed gasp and a tight embrace. Your whole body tenses, like a coil tightening. It gets hot and hotter and hottest until a band snaps and you're trembling. You moan his name like a cry for help, holding his face between your hands and marveling at the softness of his skin. A brilliant shudder makes its way through your body, the quivering of your limbs making it impossible not to whimper and whine at each little shake.

Eddie helps you through all of it, keeping his in and out pace until it becomes unsteady with the fluttering of your pussy around his cock. Your mouth latch onto one another, more heat and lust and longing to fill the space between you as you recover with a dizzying head and buzzing veins. Loud and sloppy smacks accompany the ones coming from your hips, still meeting with the last sparks of your orgasm and the drive for his own.

His steady thrusts are unsteady now, just tiny little pumps of his cock inside of you as his breaths build into gasps just as small. You’re already coming down from your high, and your whines are sounding a little different now as you tilt your head to the side and hold onto his arm, the punch of his cock bordering on an overstimulated feeling after trying to recover from the large crash of your orgasm.

“Eddie,” you whimper, one hand still splayed across his cheek.

He pulls out of you suddenly, peeling his hand off of you to grab his cock. He tugs harshly at it, bucking his hips into his hand until he’s spilling out over your belly in warm spurts, these shuddered moans coming with it. “Oh, fuck, mama,” he whimpers in that sticky tone, burying his face in the crook of your neck as the last ropes of cum coat your skin.

There are a few moments where there’s complete silence—save for the sound of a car here and there, or a dog barking in the distance, or some people laughing even farther away, or your heavy breaths huffing between you two. Your fingertips caress the skin of his cheeks, drawing patterns into his face as he simply enjoys it with closed eyes and settling breaths.

When Eddie sits up, he takes your hand to pull you up with him. You both sit on his bed, looking down at your bodies now sticky with his cum, though his isn’t the only fluid sticking to your skin. Your thighs make a wet sound whenever you move.

You run a hand down your face, sighing heavily. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, popping your toes. Eddie watches you stretch your arms over your head, enjoying the way your tits look when you do.

“So I did good?”

You look back at him to see the way he watches you, his brows bouncing with a sly grin on his face. You roll your eyes, not looking at him as you chuckle. “Yes, Eddie, you did good.”

He smiles wide.

Eddie stands from the bed, and you watch the way he sort of limps from his room. You can’t help your grin at the sight. At least that means you did good, too.

Eddie returns with a wet cloth in his hands, which he uses to clean you up first, wiping away all of your slick and his cum and even some of the saliva from your neck left behind by his sloppy kisses. He takes care in the way he does it, paying such close attention to you to ensure you’re just as clean and comfortable as he wants you to be.

When he’s done with you, he wraps his hand gently around your throat and pulls you in for another kiss. You lean into it. His kiss is like air in your lungs, and you sigh gently. Then he disappears again and comes back clean (and still deliciously naked—you enjoy the sight of his chain link tattoo curling around his upper thigh). He rustles through his drawers, pulling out another shirt, this one clean and not somewhere on the floor.

“You’re staying over, right?” he asks, as casual as ever as if he hadn’t just cum all over your stomach.

And, just as casually, you nod and turn onto your stomach to stretch again. “Mhm.” He tosses the shirt at you. It lands on your head, and you don’t move to put it on just yet. He picks up his sweatpants from the floor and puts them back on.

Eddie nudges you to the side so he can pull the covers back, and that’s when you sit up to put on his shirt. You stand, padding across his tiny room to turn off the lamp on his dresser, shrouding the room in relative darkness. When you climb back into the bed, you latch yourself onto his back and hold him to your chest. He’s really warm, and it feels nice to be this close.

Sometimes you wonder if you and Eddie are supposed to date. There’s nothing casual about your friendship, and there never really has been (especially not now). But you think that having Eddie as your best friend, perhaps just under unconventional circumstances, is the best thing there is. If you ever decide to get together, that’ll be a moment for a time in the (relative) distance.

For now, you just rest your ear against his back and listen to his heartbeat. “Eddie,” you mumble, bringing your leg up to rest over his body like he isn’t bigger than you.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

There’s a huff that you think is him chuckling. He pulls a hand up and pats yours a couple light times. “Anytime, mama.” There’s some silence. “I love you.”

You smile. You love your best friend Eddie.

“I love you, too. G’night.” He hums back at you.

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