#a lot to be thought and pondered here!!!

[eek-a-tron]

Loki (2004) & Blood Brothers Thoughts

Or: Why Does This Loki Look Like An Old Man?

I know Old Man Loki is meant to look:

Different than usual, because of the (overdue) revisionism going on in this mini-series

Visually-opposite to Thor & other Asgardians via an art-style/surface-othering extreme

Like someone for whom the reader is supposed to have the same off-putting, visceral, Asgardian-esque reaction (at first)

But I’d rather think narratively, Brent! ;\

So, how come Loki doesn’t shift out of his old man shape? (Note: “he” pronouns incoming throughout, since that’s how Loki identifies in this comic.) Does Loki not shapeshift because he’s simply over it, or is this how he thinks he actually looks? I feel like one could interpret it either way, as in: “This is me, bitches, and I also have less teeth thanks to y’all so deal with it/look upon it” (very Skyfall-esque), versus the alternative: “This story’s finally being told from my POV, so how I look outside is a metaphor for how I’m personally feeling inside” (aged and tired, emotionally broken, and giving no fucks except in secret) ...

Deeper pondering beneath the cut!

It’s just … after Loki has this “interaction” with Daia, he looks notably different for awhile. This Loki has finally been to the salon. This Loki has had a protein shake and applied some moisturizer.

So, were either the sexytimes just that good, or … well, does he shapeshift for the sexytimes, but not for anything else? Not even when appearing vengefully before the entirety of Asgard? He only reserves a more stereotypical aesthetic for the intimate sexings? Really?! It's not exactly unheard of, but ... maybe we should unpack that! Orrrrrr perhaps: is this actually how Loki looks, since he just woke up that way, and the entirety of the rest is a self-loathing, this-is-how-I’ve-been-taught-to-see-myself, roiling-emotions-unkempt theater? (Note how, above, the grizzlings return when he plops ye old helmet back on and starts thinking about his lot in life again. Which is it?)

TL;DR: Excuse me sir, is your old man look intentional or a styling issue?! ANSWER THE QUESTION SIR etc

Other thoughts that fit nowhere else:

Loki's drinking so much in here; no wonder his nose is red! Does alcohol age gods after awhile? How's Dionysus holding up?

Perhaps Asgardians feel that a leader should look old and grizzly and Odin-esque ... if Old Man Loki is shapeshifted, maybe he's meant to imitate/mock Odin and a paternalistic all-father idea itself by doing so (valid)

Loki's birth mother has a similar face-shape, and yet she doesn’t look nearly as aged and grizzly — so even if frost giants age faster in this worldbuild, something else seems up (esp since Loki mumbles to himself about how he thinks Farbauti looks awful, yikes, and also how suddenly-aware he is that he's been raised to feel thusly, double yikes)

P.S. This mini-series gave me flashbacks to the once-prevalent Star Wars sequels fic trope: “Kylo becomes Supreme Leader but it sucks because he doesn't actually like or want it;” I’m certainly not complaining, yet now I feel old and grizzly in recalling it :p

Tagging @yells-of-the-not-so-danged here so I don't ponder-hijack your post! What are your three theories?

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Sometimes I feel that Barnaby and Wally have this friendship like big bro/Lil bro, and Howdy being Barnabys bf has to put up with a lot of Wallys shenanigans for Barnaby (doesn't mind cause he also adores Wally I'm a big bro way)

i view them (as a trio) Similarly! though a little to the Left cause i don't view Barnaby & Wally's relationship as big/lil bro. rn to me they're very close friends - borderline queerplatonic! like... Wally is Barnaby's special little guy, yk?

so in my mind, in this trio, Wally's not exactly a. uh. third wheel to Barnaby/Howdy i suppose? oh this is difficult to translate into words - he's part of the relationship without being Part of it if that makes any sense? like of course he's gonna be With them a lot. Barnaby's not gonna be like "ok go do something else so i can make doe eyes at Howdy". that's his Little Buddy. they're gonna Include him as much as possible, i'd imagine. and i doubt Wally would mind being around while they flirt chat. he'd probably love being Barnaby's "wingman"

[lynxfrost13]

I genuinely wonder about Ariane and the Itous friendship they’re such a delightful little trio of outcast weirdo kids to me

[southeast-northwest]

the concept of a best friend is so foreign yet so funny to me

ive never had a "ride or die" kind of bestie that's a trope in media, but recently I was having dinner with some friends and the concept just kinda came up.

If I were to take the phrase "best friend" literally - the person out of all my friends whom I am the closest to would fit that bill, right? but she has closer friends than me so in the most literal sense, I am not my best friend's best friend.

and i honestly am not only ok with that, but I couldn't care less. we are still good friends, and nothing can change that

[youssefguedira]

🌻?

as someone who wants to go into film ive been Musing a lot lately on the idea of making films and probably art in general about a certain group's experience and marketing it that way, particularly in the sphere of films about "womanhood" that are marketed / discussed accordingly. and wrt to that specifically i have come to the conclusion i don't think it's possible to make a film about "womanhood" / the experience of being a woman because it always ends up being like. a specific subgroup's experience of being a woman and/or limited in its scope BY virtue of trying to include everyone, simply because by trying to include an entire experience in 1 piece of art will limit your ability to delve into it any further than the surface level. my biggest case for this is barbie which is trying to be a film about Being a Woman but ends up portraying a limited experience of it more than anything. and i think that's like, fine, but i also think calling it a film about Women necessarily creates an expectation that it will be relatable to all women, which is not possible, the same way making a movie about the lgbt experience won't be relatable to all lgbt people. i think it's significantly more impactful instead to make a movie about A Woman who is complex and multifaceted. like i KNOW barbie is necessarily a film where barbies will be kind of two dimensional because of being like. barbies but even still ken feels like a more developed character which is uhhhhh something. not to compare anatomy of a fall to barbie but i'm going to do that in that film sandra is complicated and mean and ambiguous and that is doing a lot more for the representation of women on screen (not that everything is a question of representation but that's another can of worms) simply by letting its female lead be a complete person with depth. challengers does this too to an extent. ultimately i think what barbie DOES get right is the theme of growing up + in some parts barbie's desire to become human. that there is significantly more compelling than its nods towards feminism. and i'm not gonna say i expected mattel's toy commercial to be a subversive masterpiece and the circumstances of its production are significantly different to anatomy of a fall but when the film is lauded as being about womanhood i WILL be poking holes in that argument because i love to complain and overthink. if they hadn't done that i wouldve liked it. and anyway barbie's feminism falls flat even beyond the surface level because at the end barbie still has to a) manage ken's emotional reaction and b) apologise for being unavailable romantically which as an aro person i Don't like. which may be somewhat influencing my opinion on the film. i think this may be word salad at this point so sorry if this is entirely incomprehensible but in conclusion: anatomy of a fall is a good film

tldr: making a film/piece of art about a specific group's experience (i.e. "womanhood") and marketing it as such is kind of reductive and really difficult because you can never really capture the diversity of experiences of being a woman, lgbt, etc. more effective to make a film about 1 specific experience in said group and allowing that character to be a multifaceted person

[seagrassywitch]

thoughts on control and power.. :P

on the lips-frankie cosmos // étude-shizuka mariya // the well-annie blackman // to me-leith ross // begakabegaka on tumblr // anything-dodie // untitled-shizuka mariya // nothing/sad n stuff- lizzy mcalpine // i will-mitski // unknown

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Reading that Natalie Portman believes that a female director having a particular gaze is reductive of women's individuality and point of view just shows that even someone as educated as her lacks media literacy and that today's discourse about cinematic gaze is based on very misguided and wrong understandings of the concepts.

If we look at social media, specifically tiktok, we would be lead to believe that a male gaze is what a man likes to look at and the female gaze is the opposite of that, what a woman likes to look at. How did we end up in this place? If we are to talk on such subjects, it would be wise to read upon some seminal works which stand as the basis and starting point of such concepts. We have to go back to John Berger and Laura Mulvey. And after we do that, we can nuance the discussion because there is so much to add to those initial understandings.

The concept of the male gaze has its origins in psychoanalitical theory, particularly scopophilia and Lacan's mirror stage. The man is the bearer of the look and the woman is that which bears the look and in the process she is transformed into an object. Mulvey explained that. All the elements of a film, from director, to DOP to the producing company, are creating this male gaze. But the problem with Mulvey's theory is that she assumed that the audience is strictly heterosexual. How does the concept still stand when a gay man is looking at the objectified woman on screen? Perhaps his gaze is upon the male character? Does that character became an eroticized object or not? How about a lesbian gaze? Is the woman's gaze from the audience the same as the director's?

I don't expect this and more from audiences across platforms, but I just want to point out that there's nothing simplistic there.

As to the concept of female gaze, there is little research, as compared to the male gaze in cinema and media, in order to have a definitive and encompassing theory. What I would say is that it's not the opposite of the male gaze. A female gaze does not automatically objectify men in a heterosexual sense, nor does it translate as objectifying women from a queer perspective.

Yet, it doesn't mean there shouldn't be an apparatus that helps us navigate texts as audiences but also for those who are creating the film and media texts.

Chantal Akerman in Jeanne Dielman did the opposite of the male gaze through filming techniques. She didn't fragment a woman's body and showed it as lacking eroticism. That's a choice that expresses a very clear message. Is it the female gaze? No, it is one of them, but I don't believe it is but one unique female perspective as Portman likes to think and as Akerman said at the time (as a context, Akerman refused the feminist label when the film came out).

There's plenty of women's perspectives in cinemas, but it is time to do the research that would do it justice. It's a lot of work and it must be intersectional because it has to be better and up to date with current understandings of women's identities.

[leothil]

To pivot a bit, would people be interested in a post breaking down tv ratings, how they work, and what they can tell us?

[abelllia]

Re-reading the MAG 160 transcript and I want to bite Elias’ head off so bad

[kaustic]

.

[perelka-l]

Do you have any HCs about Proton or Petrel? Weirdly, I have brainworms abt them today, akin to hurt/comfort shipping, but idk if I consider their relationship platonic or what. I definitely think of them as close. Proton is an evil little freak who’s gone through the wringer, and Petrel is so laid back + morally grey that he literally doesn’t care what an evil little freak Proton is. (Other people read it as Petrel being THAT dumb and unaware…but that ain’t it, he’s just consciously giving Proton a pass because Whatever)

I’ve been playing around with this HC that Proton lowkey hates Giovanni because he more or less wants to BE him (power-wise - like he’s just got so much rage in there, and subconsciously, he has decided that having MEGA-CONTROL will fix it), but it’s starting to..become apparent + difficult to suppress. Like he’s toeing the line of like bEEFING with Giovanni which is obviously incredibly stupid…but Proton may be incredibly stupid…like that is not going to work out well for him, but he’s such a spiteful dude that he can barely help himself

I like to think that if you squint, all Executives are at the very least platonic towards each other. They've been through some proper shit together and there is definitely some bonding stemming from that. Brothers in arms, so to speak. But you know. More mafia/yakuza-ish. They maybe wouldn't die for each other, but kill? Sure.

With Petrel, 100% of my headcanon about him stems from this fic on pokanon kink meme (which, as a side note, nicely matches Pokemas portrayal as well. I like his consistency). Well, ok, 80%. I have some more thoughts about him that stem from nowhere.

First thing is that I see him as oldest out of the bunch. Maybe not as old as Giovanni (maybe) but old enough to possibly even remember Madame Boss. I like to think him getting as far in the ladder as he did stems from survival instincts and capabilities but also that he just was in TR for quite a while, and his slow climb just happened over time. And yeah, he is very morally grey, he can be nice but it would be dangerous to assume he is nice.

And Proton is... yeah. Youngest of the bunch and I saw him once described as a both a rabid dog to sic at target and most spoiled little cat which both match him, I think. He does feel a bit spoiled, but I think it is tied with the fact that he can be quite violent (I also have a Formative Kink Meme Fic for that, but this one I will not link. It's Proton/Silver and ngl, it was one of the most uncomfortable things I have ever read for sheer amount of triggers. Formative but MAN was it uncomfortable. Feel free to ask me but. Uh. Yeah.) and TR serves him to satisfy that. In some other fic, don't remember which one now, I saw someone theorize that possibly Proton's loyalty sides more with Archer, since Archer know how to use him well, as well as after when Giovanni was gone.

By the way, what do you mean by "gone through wringer"? I know what it means but I am unsure what you mean by that.

Proton, in pokemas at least, claims that he admired Giovanni due to him being "ruthlessly decisive". But at the same time Proton is made a bit more into a joke which... I can see why they would do it, it's easier to make him funny than make him serious in that particular franchise, and I politely ignore that bit while nodding in understanding. Though OK, bootlegs is vile shit. But back to main point - I can see where you come from and I think following that line of thought that what would make Proton envious of Giovanni is his, in a sense, freedom.

Giovanni has plenty of responsibilities that, I would imagine, Proton wouldn't ever wish to shoulder (I like to think his executive task first things first is to be a scarecrow to keep grunts in check...) but at the same time Proton could burn for the way Gio has enough power to handle it all and control and decide freely what to use, even with Proton, and do so effectively. And Proton could probably wish to have that, freedom to do as he wished, to decide what to do. He is young (I wouldn't say he is older than in his early 20s), so he wants all the power without responsibilities coming from it (gah, sudden spiderman!). I could imagine that when Giovanni leaves, Proton is hit with injustice of it. Giovanni can just leave. Can just go, drop everything that Proton thought he desires and vanish into thin air. And Proton is tied to TR because this is his protection and this is where he can do what he wishes to do (as in, violence) and be protected for that from police and such. He wished for that. He can't ever have that.

Everybody being aware of Protons issues could be amusing, and Petrel being the one to keep him in line is a nice thought. Petrel seen it all, knows how TR works better than most, Proton being a bitch is honestly not the worst he's seen but he is aware what the result can be, maybe saw such a few times. And he likes Proton, he's a skilled kid, would be a shame to have him disappeared if Giovanni's amusement over his antics turn into anger (And that would probably fall to Archer and Petrel knows Archer likes Proton as well but Archer's loyalty overrules literally everything else and wouldn't even blink if Giovanni decided enough is enough). (Also, now I ponder on Giovanni personally manhandling Proton when he gets a bit irked a bit and whoa oh erm whoa)

Thank fuck Proton is as reliable as he is, dangle a task in front of his nose and he'd follow, a rabid dog eager to sink his fangs into something. Petrel though knows how to handle the leash so Proton won't bite the hand that feeds him.

[freezethebeez]

bit weird, but how are funeral practices different in the catalyst world? Because I feel like there’s an untapped angst potential in vampires turning their dead loved ones into soup. What’s more of an expression of grief than lettting your beloved’s dying cells become your cells, to convert a part of them to you and let them live on in all the parts of you forever? To one last time feel the warmth and flesh of your dead friend or lover before their bones are buried?

dead dove: do not eat? more like dead partner: turn him into soup but specifically the soup that your mother made and the one that he liked the most and have the most insane mental breakdown of all time while you eat it ^_^

[awesomeshadow773]

I’ve been pondering for a whiiile if I should make a Feelingshipping side account on here too…

I have one on the ‘used to be bird app website’ and it feels really nice and fun to have a space to just post and maybe ramble about them

I would still post stuff about them on here too, but I could go even wilder on one just for them :>

I always think about posting random thoughts about them on twitt but I never seem to fully commit to it (maybe I will soon who knows gah). Then I have thoughts on how I would be much more comfortable doing it on Tumblr and the idea of a side blog becomes even more appealing as I think more and more about it lol . o .

even though this IS my blog, my head’s like ‘omg you want to post sooo much Guriie here calm down’ even though I can technically do whatever I want haha overthinkerrrr

aaaand… the fact that I can post my thoughts here a little more just proves my point on how much more comfortable I am about sharing them lmao

I eventually… EVENTUALLY will make art for other things, but Green and Yellow are just such a comfort 💛💚 and I think they deserve all the love ahahaaaa

so…

perhaps I’ll make one?

Just a little space to gush about them… hehe

And post as many sketches as I want >:)

[teafiend]

Am a fan of the character of 蔣簥 and despite my many issues with the show and its unremarkable writing, am rediscovering the reasons why it left an impression in my mind. Quite a few lessons to be gleaned here.

[starlit-mansion]

the endless battle of 'it's good to have a few things that you encounter regularly that aren't fully in your comfort zone' and 'actually this is just making me uncomfortable in a crawly way every time i encounter it so i need to remember i'm allowed to just quietly cut it away even though i don't have a "good" or "real" reason'

[chelseeebe]

truth or dare

18+. mdni. smuuuut. yeah man it’s really just smut. eddie munson x female reader.

a/n: not sure if i really like this but i wanted to post something while i work on this other long ass thing that may never see the light of day el oh el a continuation to gimme a hand and bump n’ grind or can absolutely be read on it’s own!

steve and robin had made the right call, leaving a few hours ago before the storm really hit.

eddie’d stupidly offered another joint, not wanting to let you go so soon. optimistic that maybe something would happen after those two had cleared off.

you’d been darting around it all evening, watching the movie with your hand under the blanket, stroking his thigh. inadvertently, or perhaps purposefully, making his cock shift with every length of your hand.

you peer out of the window, clicking your tongue against the back of your teeth, “i don’t think i can drive,” turning back to face him, “it’s really comin’ down out there,” a hint of satisfaction in your voice.

“i’m sure wayne won’t mind if you crash here,” shrugging softly.

you used to stay around a lot when you were slightly younger, back when touch was innocent and there weren’t all these complicated layers to your relationship.

“can you handle that?”

his eyes roll back, “shut up,” sitting back in his spot on the couch. anticipating spending the night here rather than in his bed, desperate to prove that he could handle it.

“whatcha wanna do?” you sing, pursing your lips.

“i dunno,” he shrugs, “we could watch another movie?” knowing that ultimately, another movie would lead to you touching his thigh until he came or something.

“that’s boring,” scowling at his suggestion, “i mean.. we are stuck in here,” biting on your bottom lip, “let’s play a game,” you propose, cocking your head, “truth or dare.”

eddie groans, an unwilling participant in your silly little games.

“come on,” offering zero incentive for him to play, “it’ll be fun,” taking another swig of the surely luke-warm beer. “truth or dare?”

there is not a single bone in his body that wants to play with you. no doubt you’d have him confessing to something embarrassing or doing something dangerous or stupid.

“dare,” he says flatly, hoping you’ll dare him to jump out of the window or something.

“i dare you..” you ponder for only a second, “to take your shirt off.”

“wh-,” he starts, mouth falling open, “well i dare you to take your shirt off.”

“it’s not my turn, idiot,” pursing your lips, “off.. now.”

pouting your lips, watching carefully as he lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“alright,” honing in on this stupid game, “truth or dare?”

“dare.”

eddie’s eyes light up, “take your shirt off,” immediately getting his own back.

“you’re supposed to say i dare you before your dare,” tutting at his impatience, though you do as he says.

lifting your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy bra you had most definitely chosen on purpose. maybe this was your plan all along, waiting to get him alone to inflict your cruel wrath upon him.

he ogles just enough to not have you mention anything, diverting his attention back to whatever drivel was on the tv. desperate to just get over this dancing around each other and get to the inevitable.

“truth or dare?” you ask again, poking his leg with your foot.

“do we have to play?” eddie whines.

“yes.”

“okay truth,” he spits, leaning back against the cushions.

“why didn’t it work out with you and chrissy?”

he groans again, already sick of this, “we wanted different things,” different things being you, he means.

“like what? i thought you were testing the waters or whatever?” mocking him with his own words.

“you. you jerked me off and ruined my life forever, is that what you wanted me to say?”

you ponder in silence for a moment before that god awful smirk creeps onto your face, “actually yes, that’s exactly what i wanted you to say,” crossing your legs, all self-righteous and smug.

it’s not like you didn’t already know this, it was fairly obviously to anyone with eyes and two brain cells to rub together.

“your turn,” smiling pointedly at you, “truth or dare?”

you hum, contemplating your options, whatever you picked, he was surely going to make it worth his while.

“dare.”

“alright,” eddie sits up straight, poking his tongue into his cheek, “i dare you to run around outside in your underwear,” if you wanted to play stupid games, you could win stupid prizes too.

your smile grows, taking over your entire face, “fine,” standing from your spot on the floor, shimmying out of your jeans right in front of him.

he jumps up, rushing to the door as you bound outside, filling the silent trailer park with your squeals and squeaks.

eddie watches in quiet amazement, more focused on the way your tits move with every bound, your lacy panties framing your jiggling ass perfectly. he’s close to drooling, turning into a slobbering mess at the sight of you literally frolicking in your panties. he was a pathetic man, and he knew it.

you turn, running full speed back into the door, teeth chattering and your hands trembling from the cold. barrelling straight past him, back into the warmth, lashes coated in tiny, intricate snowflakes.

“fuck!” you screech, “you asshole,” picking up his discarded shirt to slip on instead of your own. he wishes you hadn’t. seeing you half naked in his shirt was far worse than seeing you actually naked.

eddie snickers, closing the door all the while trying to keep his composure.

a smirk erupts onto your face, something ticking away in your brain before you stomp over, grabbing his cheeks with your ice cold hands, grinning with pure self satisfaction.

he hollers, grabbing your wrists in defence. it becomes a flailing sort of dance, with you trying to keep your cold hands on his face and him fighting to get you away. a mixture of expletives fill the trailer, screeching over one another as you move around the room.

you trip over one of the discarded bottles on the floor, sending you flying back onto the couch, still breathlessly cursing him out.

eddie takes the only logical step, pouncing on top of your flailing body, bounding your arms together at the wrist, heaving for breath.

he freezes, the realisation that for once he had all the power dawning upon him, unequipped for the sudden change in dynamic.

he can feel you, underneath him, pressed into the couch by his body, sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna do something or what?” you snark, no longer trying to wriggle free, accepting and even pleased in your defeat.

“yeah,” he adds meekly, despite not making an attempt to actually do something.

your brows thread together, knee sliding up the side of his body, spreading your legs further as his cock perks up in response.

holy fucking shit.

this was it.

or it could be it if he can gather his raucous thoughts enough to make a move.

eddie’s had sex before, multiple times in fact. he doesn’t understand why his hands aren’t doing the thing they should be, why he’s frozen in place, waiting for something to happen.

“we don’t have to, you know?”

fuck. he was going to fuck this up through sheer stupidity.

so instead of letting his brain worm his way out of what would probably be the best moment of his life, he thinks with his dick.

pressing his lips to yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. letting your hands free from his restraint, allowing you to weave your fingers through his hair just like he’d thought so much about.

his hands crawling underneath his shirt, touching your skin for what felt like the first time ever, gliding over your waist, appreciating the soft feel of your skin, lingering for too long.

he doesn’t want to take it off, how many times could he say he’d have sex with you with his shirt on?

you’d already stripped him out of his clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination as his hips grind down against yours, breathing shakily into your mouth.

your lips latch onto his, tongue sliding into his open mouth while your fingers pull gently at his curls.

even when eddie thinks he’s fully in control, you still take charge. rutting your hips upwards, separated by the thin layer of lace and his boxers that most definitely had a hole in them.

there’s a fifty percent chance that he’ll cum right away, already incredibly hard, teetering on the edge.

it’s genuinely incomprehensible that after months and months of longing and edging, this was finally happening. too caught up with trying to keep to your pace to really think about the implications on your relationship too much.

he hopes that this won’t change anything, at least not negatively anyway.

your hand slides down the tiny space left in between your bodies, toying with the waistband of his boxers before slipping in. unable to contain his groan from slipping out and into your mouth.

tugging the fabric down just enough to let his cock out, giving him no time to recover before your fist wraps around the base of his cock, pumping your fingers around the sensitive skin.

“fuck,” he breathes, bottom lip still latched onto yours. no hand had ever come close to yours, filling his thoughts since you’d touched him for the first time.

wayne’s ratty old couch wasn’t exactly the romantic location he’d envisioned this happening in, but beggars can’t be choosers and eddie certainly wasn’t going to complain.

he’s so dumbfounded that any of this is even happening, clumsily fumbling with the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down haphazardly, with no care or grace.

his previous displays of desperation made sure you didn’t care about his composure, or else you wouldn’t be here.

your lips collide, all teeth and tongues and spit. eddie too focused on the feel of your hand around his cock to care.

he can feel your body shift from underneath, manoeuvring his cock to your soaked entrance, letting out the most ungodly noise as the tip glistens with your slick.

pressing your sweaty forehead against his, begging for his full attention, “look at me,” you insist, running your fingers around his cock, withholding him from full satisfaction.

he does as you ask, finding your wild-eyed gaze, holding it just long enough to slide into your slick cunt, grunting into the hot air that hung around the room.

“fuck,” you bite, weaving your fingers through his hair, tightening your things around his waist.

it’s dizzying. feeling you envelope around him just as he’d imagined countless times before. you’re so warm and so wet, so so wet. eddie can’t help but wonder if this is how you’d felt when you were grinding against him.

nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the fuzzy haze that’d encapsulate his brain, thoughts only of you and your body and your pussy.

his balls slap against your ass, slow and steady, hoping not to bust five seconds in. keeping his eyes on yours, encapsulated by the way they flit between his eyes and his lips.

heaven wouldn’t be too far off this, he thinks.

his rhythm is neither here nor there but he was trying, filling you to the hilt and then pulling back out again.

every soft, melodic gasp and cry you made was echoing through his brain, spurring him on to make them louder.

purely intoxicated with your pussy, gasping for more as he slams against your hips.

this wasn’t going to last long but he sure as shit was going to make it worthwhile.

you writhe underneath his body, fingernails grazing against his scalp, gentle and yet demanding.

“sh-shit eds,” you pant, jaw slack with your tongue practically lolling out of your head.

just hearing you moan his name has detrimental effects on his brain chemistry. his eyelids struggle, fluttering open just enough to meet your glossy eyes, pupils blown out and crazy. this was going to wreck him for the rest of his life, cursed forever by the image of you and your parted lips. the way you wail his name becoming a tune he’d revisit constantly.

he’d love to capture it, one day, if you’d let him.

no one would ever come close to you, your cunt and your god forsaken sighs. eddie promises to himself that if there’s a next time, he’s not leaving until you cum. unsure if he’d be able to control himself but more than willing to take that risk.

his thrusts become sporadic, losing his grip on reality as he teeters closer and closer to the edge. you can see it too, tugging gently on his hair to bring him back to this reality.

pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth, too high off of your own pleasure to aim for accuracy.

eddie’s not sure if he prefers your goading or this softer touch, honestly neither were helping him not to bust his load right now.

“yeah?” you breathe, in response to his hoarse grunts, succumbing to the tightening pressure in his stomach, “you gonna cum?” sighing against his mouth.

he doesn’t want to, not really. hoping this’d last forever and ever because god knows if you’d ever let him touch you again.

hoping desperately to have not wasted his one and only time buried inside of you by cumming in five minutes flat.

but he is going to cum, in fact, he’s dangerously close to doing so immediately. the way you squeeze and tighten around him only accelerating the inevitable, his toes curling and mouth running dry.

he was seeing stars, dancing around the inside of his eyelids. woozy on adrenaline as he pathetically ruts his hips into yours for a final few lousy strokes.

“oh fuck,” eddie rushes, “no- fuck i’m cumming,” his cock slides out, thick ropes of his release covering not only your inner thighs but the couch too. collapsing atop of your perfect body, pinning you to the cushions as he attempts to gain some sort of semblance of control.

his face finds your chest, heaving for breath between your tits, his shirt pulled up just enough for your bra to peep underneath the hem.

“jesus christ,” words vibrating against your skin, almost purring at your fingers combing through his hair.

nothing he could ever dream would match up to that. the neurons in his brain had been frazzled, never to work or compute the way they should, ever again.

he places a measly kiss to your chest, looking up at you through his lashes, an insignificant gesture of appreciation that he felt he owed.

“you good?” you ask, lips twitching into a smile, unsure if you’re mocking him or genuinely concerned. either or would be fine.

“not really,” still floating up above the clouds.

“shut up,” definitely mocking, pulling tufts of his hair back to have him meet your eye fully, “you liked that?”

he nods enthusiastically, pining after your approval like the lovesick little loser he truly was. incredibly, you hadn’t run off into the storm, so maybe you had too.

“good,” abruptly letting go of his hair, his head falling back onto your chest, “get off me, i need a shower,” attempting to peel him off of your body.

eddie knows, or at least hopes, that your snippy, sarcastic comments were made out of love. you showed affection by being a bitch and he showed his by being a stumbling, pathetic loser.

if that was all he had to endure to get anywhere near your pussy again, he’d do it in a heartbeat. each and every time.

-

wayne’s knuckles wrap against his bedroom door, waking eddie from the already broken sleep he was suffering with, far too excitable to settle down properly. instead he’d spent his hours between drifting in and out of sleep and watching your dreamy face, trying to match his breaths to yours.

he slides out of bed, careful not to wake you, treading carefully to avoid the mountains of crap strewn across the floor.

“what the hell?” wayne whispers angrily, gesturing back to the living room he had neglected to clean. too caught up in you being in his shower and in his bed with his shirt on to care about empty beer bottles and discarded clothes.

“sorry,” eddie squirms, knowing he couldn’t exactly worm his way out of this one. “we had a few beers.. you know,” shrugging coyly. his uncle wasn’t stupid, he definitely did know.

wayne’s eyes narrow, flitting behind eddie to you, sleeping soundly in his bed. thankfully covered by the blanket as you slept in just his shirt.

“what happened there?” raising his brow at his inconspicuous nephew.

he shrugs, and then he grins. that great big toothy grin that wayne couldn’t mistake.

wayne shakes his head, tutting to himself as he backs away from the door, “clean that shit up before i wake up,” before disappearing into his own room.

eddie smiles to himself, sliding back into bed when you stir, humming softly, displeased to have been woken up so early.

“is he mad?” you mumble, muffled by the pillow.

“no.. no, not really,” eddie hushes, turning on his side to face you.

you’re still dozing, not bothering to open your eyes though he didn’t mind, you were peaceful this way, far calmer than your usual self.

“good,” settling into the pillow before slinging your leg over his thigh, pulling yourself closer, “he loves me too much to do anything anyway,” nestling your body into his side.

if the world ended tomorrow, eddie would die a happy man.