#time for that frontal lobe baby

[didhewinkback]

think some people also just want a hit tweet & to make their fav look cool bc “they always hated this person” when it’s like ummm no in 2013 they were just rowdy teenage boys who did absolutely anything on stage lmfao

exactly !!!!! people love to rewrite history esp in fandoms and esp on any social media platform for likes its so wild. like of all years to claim these boys hated each other and wanted each other dead 2013 is not the year.

[chillllii]

it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it

[cookiesthegreat]

If I may drop my two cents.

That early and young development for toddlers would be different than you would see in traditional western human society.

I would argue that the brain development could be a little faster than human babies. Being born with a more defined bone structure and muscles would lead to a faster onset of motor skills. Which could make the development and learning process faster. I’ve also worked with small kids and toddler and they are fiercely independent creatures. They love tasks and learning more than most people realize. But if they has better functioning of there lil hands they would be even more unstoppable.

So I think that awkward useless baby phase could be shorter than we think in centers. Maybe 2 years even or even less depending on there frontal lobe development with the extra metal skills and ability to learn and explore. Also just imagining an infant having the ability to run is terrifying, centaur or not.

dont go out for a walk alone and late at night when you have been drawing and researching horses/centaurs all day, you WILL end up thinking about the logistics of centaur birth and early infancy development!!!

anyway im going to info dump the stuff i was thinking about :)

since horses can walk and run only a few hours after birth and human babies are practically useless for several years, this would mean that the horse development would need to be drastically slowed down and the human development drastically sped up, but humans require a very long time (after birth) for our brains to develop because most of what we learn is learned socially by interacting with other humans, horses are not like this and most of their knowledge is instinctual.

centaurs have human shaped skulls so its reasonable to assume that they have human-like brains too. this means they require a prolonged childhood in order to grow as social creatures and therefore cannot have an accelerated development as babies/toddlers.

when humans are born they are floppy and things like skulls are soft and in separated pieces, this is because humans are upright standing creatures and the position of the pelvis does not facilitate a comfortable, smooth birth. however, centaurs would give birth out of the horse part so they dont have the same problems as humans when it comes to birth, therefore infant centaurs can be born with hard skulls and stronger bones and muscles. this is good news bc it means that the human half wont be floppy like a human child would.

centaurs are likely to live in groups because that is a shared trait for both horses and humans, so with lots of other beings around, it is less necessary for infants to be very independent. this means that while their lower halves may be able to stand and walk, their upper bodies dont need to be able to be super mobile, because they can rely on others to take care of them. it might be the case that their torsos and arms are much shorter (relatively) than they would be in adulthood, because they dont have much use for their upper body yet. as their brains grow larger and more capable, then their arms start growing and their fingers become more dexterous. as infants centaurs human ribcages may be fused with their horse ribcages, and as they get older the ribcage splits and there becomes a more distinct difference between horse and human halves. throughout childhood, their spines elongate, and their upper body separates from their horse shoulders

im not an expert on human or horse development, this is just based on the little that i actually know so it might not be completely accurate. but yeah thats what i think. also i just made some stuff up that probably doesnt make any biological sense but theyre fantasy creatures so i think im excused a little in terms of realism

i have normal thoughts too i swear 0_0

[usedtobecooler]

thinking about riding steve 'big dick' harrington until you're crying )):

warnings: piv sex, praise kink, big dicks, filth.

he's got you naked and writhing on top of him as he works his cock into you, inch after inch sliding into the tight heat of your velvety walls, puffy red lips wrapped around your nipple — kissing, licking, biting. soothing you as you're practically impaled on his length.

your ankles almost meet around the base of his back, digging into the dip of his spine when you finally sit fully — he's so big. you don't think you'll ever get used to it, and this position was making every little bit of his cock known.

"god," you gasp — a small, choked off cry. you're flush, chest to chest, your arms flung around his shoulders loosely as you silently beg your body to relax. and he's everywhere, from his shaggy hair tickling your face to his big thighs plastered to your own with sweat.

“i know baby, i know,” steve’s breathy whispers sooth you as he grasps at your hip, rocking you back and forth on his cock until you’re whining, kiss swollen lips parting as you shake.

“you— you’re so deep,” you whimper, clawing at the nape of steve’s neck and pulling on the baby hairs until he’s grunting and fucking up into you from below, making the sheer stretch even more pronounced.

this position was intense. intimate. had him as deep as he could go and then some. you’re sure if you pressed down on your belly hard enough you’d feel the bulbous head poking out through your skin.

“think you can get those hips to work for me?” steve coos, trailing his nose up your chest until he's mouthing at your damp neck, kissing and nibbling the salty skin, savouring the taste of you on his tongue, “you feel like heaven, baby.”

the praise has you keening, rocking down onto him. the sound that breaks from deep in steve’s chest causes goosebumps to break out all over your flushed body — you swear you’d never heard anything like it.

you try, you really do. a gradual bounce at a slow, steady pace. you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he prods deep, deep, deep. it teeters on the edge of too much, the constant press on your front wall, enough to bring tears to your eyes but not enough to get you to stop.

“oh fuck,” you can hardly focus, steve is everywhere on you. his hands roam every bare inch of your skin, his lips latch to your throat, the swell of your tits — dragging wet and hot until the tears finally spill from your eyes from the stimulation.

he looks up at you with those stupid hazel speckled irises, all gooey and full of soft love behind the lust that hardens the edges, “you need some help? those poor legs can’t cope, huh?”

your cunt flutters at his words and he chokes on a groan, snaking a toned, tan arm around your back — it somehow drags you even closer to him as he slides you back onto his cock properly, snug once more against your frontal wall.

"you look so good like this," steve grins, rocking up into you and using the arm snaked around you as leverage to lift you along with it, "all fucked out and wrecked on my cock."

"you —i—" you can't form sentences anymore, clinging onto steve for dear life as he drives up into you, bouncing you up and down on his length, ragdolling you in the process. the sickening clap of your sweaty skin mixes with the squelch of your pussy sucking him in, almost drowning out your cries.

"want you like this all the time, fuck," steve's babbling in between grunts, kissing up along the side of your neck, bringing his lips back to your ear, suckling on your lobe until he's choking a soft moan from you, "fuuuck, you're gripping me so good."

you know you are. you can feel it too, the way your cunt reacts to every touch, every sound, every push and shove. his other hand grips onto your hip so tight it's going to bruise, using it to help guide your hips back and forth in tandem with his pistoning hips.

the blooming in your belly rolls in like tidal waves, your tear streaked eyes clenching shut as you allow the feeling to wash over you. the friction of your clit on steve's thatch of pubic hair and the way your pebbled nipples rub against his broad chest helping you get there.

"i— i'm going to—" you're trying so hard, but god it's just so fucking good. it's always been good, but never have you felt pleasure quite like this, and steve knows it too. he knows what he's doing with every thrust.

“s’okay honey, i’m right there with you,” steve pants, grappling at your sweat slick waist and burying his face into your neck, mouthing at your ear “c’mon, be a good girl and cum for me.”

you cry out, gasping and digging your nails tightly into his broad shoulders, lightheaded and dizzy with it as he whispers encouragements into your ear — you hurtle towards the edge fast, the deep heat in your lower belly bursting into flames as you release with a sharp scream.

"that's it — oh fuck, you're so tight, mmph," steve grips onto your hip for dear life, shoving you down deep and burying his face tightly into your neck to muffle his cries. you feel every hot spurt of cum paint your insides, every pulse of his cock. it feels like it goes on forever.

[imthenextrobin]

i love how teen Damian acts because yes, that boy IS a teen. he’s actually growing up and developing his frontal lobe. like UHRJRHD

anyways hc that Dick, Jason, and Tim all act like mothers who realize their baby is growing up. Similar to that one scene in the Simpson where it shows teenage Bart, and Marge begs him to say one of his old insults again, but he doesn’t want to because he’s grown up

Dick, noticing Damian’s homework on his desk while he was bothering him: What? Why do you have high school homework?

Damian, confused because he’s halfway done with high school: ??? It’s my homework what??

Dick, with tears now forming in his eyes: No it’s not. Jeez tell me no it’s not you’re still in middle school what. TIM GET IN HERE BACK ME UP

Tim enters, uninterested but later gets confused because? Yeah?? Why is Damian doing high school work? He’s just a little kid??

( Jason is the only one who’s semi-fine with it, only because Damian had asked for his help a good amount of times during his school projects related literature. He’s secretly cried about it the first time Damian asked for help, but he’s willing to take that to the grave for the second time)

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Troubleshooting

Nathan Bateman x afab!Reader ��� Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 23: Begging

Summary: Nathan can't say no to a challenge.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry).

Warnings: reader who has trouble orgasming by just penetration alone, p in v sex, cream pie, pet names, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 765

“Nathan please,” you gasp, grabbing hold of the edge of his desk desperately as he pounds into you from behind.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay, I got you.” He mutters, his voice gravely with the strain of holding back. He grasps your waist, keeping you still as he thrusts inside. 

You whine, tears in your eyes from being on the edge for so long. Part of you wishes you hadn’t told Nathan that you couldn’t come by penetration alone, but you didn’t realise quite how much of a personal challenge he would take it as. More fool you.

It feels so good, which is most of the problem. It makes pleasure spike and burn, but it never quite crests, never lets you get completely there.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet, you know that?” He growls, spreading his feet wider apart to change the angle. 

If you were a little more coherent you’d throw a sarcastic comment back at him, but the time for frontal lobe thinking was long past. 

“Please!” The sob breaks in your voice. It was bordering on painful how much you needed it, how desperate you were to come. 

Your slick dripped down your thighs, the slap of skin echoing loudly with every thrust. 

“You can do it, baby,” he moans deep in his throat, “I know you can, I know you can come.” 

“I can’t,” you tense, your muscles aching from tightrope walking you along the precipice. 

“You can, you can,” he groans, the sound vibrating through you. “I believe in you.” 

It would almost be sweet if you didn’t want to cry. Pleasure twisted along your nerves, pulling them tight but refusing to snap. Sweat dripped down your back, as he moved, trying a different angle, different speed. He’d been trying for what felt like forever. Unable to stop troubleshooting until the problem was fixed. 

You gasp, as he thrusts shallowly, tensing, your blood buzzing as he hits the same spot in quick, rapid succession. 

“Nathan!” 

“There you are, there you are,” he mutters, part of you wants to hit the smug grin off his face that you just know is plastered to it. “Little more.” 

It’s good, mind-numbingly good, but it’s just not going to get you there. Your clit throbs, yearning for the smallest touch to send you over the edge. 

You sob, your arms weakening. Your left gives out for a second, buckling and you yelp before Nathan grabs you, keeping you from falling and smacking your head on the corner of his desk. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he pulls you close to his chest, kissing your neck greedily as he grinds his hips, keeping his cock deep inside. 

His beard scrapes along your skin and you moan, gasping for air. You couldn’t do this, this was too much, you needed to tap out, to-

He squeezes your left breast in his hand while his other runs down your stomach, his fingers rubbing your clit once and then you scream. 

Your orgasm hits you so hard, tensing every muscle as you convulse and cry out. Pleasure spikes up your spine, cutting under your skin and making your eyes roll back. You gasp out his name, practically vibrating and pulsing along him as your body finally collapses into pure bliss. 

Nathan groans, growling as your walls squeeze and milk him harder than he can ever remember. He shutters, barely managing to thrust one more before he comes deep inside, filling you to the brim. 

He holds you close, slumping back into his desk chair and taking you with him. 

You let out a little huff of air as you land. 

Nathan nuzzles your neck, sucking lightly and whispering sweet words. 

“So much for, ‘you can get anyone to come on your cock alone.’” You mumble, but there’s no heat in your words, too blissed out. 

He chuckles. “Guess you’re a problem I’m going to keep having to try to solve.” He holds you tight, rubbing your arms soothingly. “You okay?” 

You nod. 

He kisses your cheek. “Sorry I couldn’t keep going,” he mutters, “you just sound and feel too good for me to not indulge you.” 

You glance over your shoulder at him, pulling a face. “Indulge me?” 

He grins, “oh yeah,” and slips his hand down between your legs, he brushes his fingers over your clit and you jump, wriggling and moaning softly. “I don’t think I showed here enough attention, did I?” 

“Nathan,” you try to say warningly, but it comes out wanton. 

His grin widens, “I know you got one more in you.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[callme-darling]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ ok but what about vincent who likes to see his pretty girl squirm??

word count: ~625

warnings: smut, vincent renzi x fem reader, implications of oral sex (f receiving), fingering, poorly used french, dom vincent, throat holding (no choking), implications of p-in-v

a/n: this is just a quick lil drabble i thought up while making dinner (i need to be sedated), also the way he looks in that gif legitimately makes me lose control of my frontal lobe

“ba- baby, wait.. wait-“ you plead, what feels like a futile attempt to get the man between your legs to give you a moment of reprieve.

through fluttering lashes, you’re able to glance down and see soft locks of ash-grey pull away from your core, a pair of blue eyes, shining bright in the glow of the golden hour, peering into you.

wet lips brush against the inside of your thigh, his smirk evident as he kissed the skin. “yes, my love?”

fuck, the teasing tone should irk you, but the butterflies in your stomach can’t seem to stop pulsing against your ribcage. your heart is nearly hammering in your chest as you attempt to calm down, stabilize yourself. when you don’t say anything, vincent merely chuckles quietly. his sharp eyes study you for a moment longer before he lets your knee fall from his shoulder and slides his body to hover over yours. you admire him up close now, cheeks flushed with want.

the quiet rasp in his voice sends a chill down your spine as he speaks close to your ear, his breath warm against the skin. “what does my pretty girl need from me?”

you swallow, a newfound shyness overwhelming you as you feel your pussy clench around nothing, embarrassingly wet as if he hadn’t just spent the last 45 minutes using his tongue til you were begging for a moment to catch your breath. your thighs twitch as his right hand teasingly cups your poor pussy, his fingertips tracing your wet folds. the lewd wet-clicking sounds only served to make your blush grow fiercer, your chest rising and falling as he kept his cool gaze trained on you, seemingly nonchalant.

if it weren’t for the prominent buldge in his boxers, a small spot of precum already staining the material, you would’ve fallen for his indifferent demeanor.

with a skillful brush of his finger against your pulsing clit, you’re drug from your scattered thoughts, a sharp whine coming from the back of your throat.

“i asked you a question.” his voice vibrated in your ears, his accent more prominent as he willed his composure to endure. the tip of his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as he sucks in a sharp breath. “putain (fuck).. you’re so wet..” as if to prove his point, he slipped two fingers into your heat with an embarrassingly wet squelch, barely audible over your sweet moan.

you felt your eyes flutter as he slowly began to tease his fingers in and out, falling into a soft rhythm that had you digging your prettily manicured nails into his shoulder, mouth agape as you pant and whine in time with the thrust of his experienced fingers.

he couldn’t pry his eyes from you, his own lips parted as he watched your body react so readily to him. before he could stop himself, his lips were against your cheek, his eyelashes tickling your skin as he whispered, “tu es tellement jolie, putain- je vais me faire jouir, merde.. (so fucking pretty)- (gonna make me come, shit..).”

you squeeze your eyes shut, damn near whimpering as he pulls his fingers away from you. you open your mouth to complain, but a gentle hand on your throat pushes any thought of objection out of your mind.

vincent’s face ghosts over yours, his pupils blown. “i’m going to fuck you.” his eyes flick to your swollen lips and then back to yours, “think you can handle that, ma chérie?”

you suck in a breath, your own hands coming to wrap around the wrist of the hand holding your throat. you nod dumbly, your mind empty aside from the man above you.

“mots (words), words love, i need to hear you say it.”

“please, vince, please fuck me.”

your pussy clenches as he smirks at your admittance. his lips are warm against yours, his tongue teasing your bottom lips before he pulls away an inch. “that’s my girl.”

[erinwantstowrite]

It just kind of smacked me in the face that 22 feels so young now. I’ve spent so much time thinking my 20s are so far away but I’ll be 20 next year.. wild

Like what do you mean I’m an adult and can do everything now?? (Drinking age is 19 where I live)

my baby brother turned 20 last week and to me that's still a baby even though he's like. a grown ass man now. though i might be biased because while he is 6'3" and has bills to pay, in my head he's still 3 feet tall and just a little guy

and honestly,, you won't feel like an adult for a while. there is a stark difference between me at 20 and me at 22. i can feel my frontal lobe developing, shit is wild. you still have milestones to get to, so don't panic

[sniffle-bird]

did you guys know i love jeremy fitzgerald

he’s such a guy. uhhhhh yeah he survived the bite in my au, he didn’t lose the whole frontal lobe it just got hella fucked up. by the time him and mike reunite after sister location and mike working at the fnaf 1 location he’s recovered both mentally and physically to live on his own. also he had a baby. that’s a thing that happened welcome to the world beautiful baby cassie. all that just to get sniped at the pizzaplex rip! this guy cannot stop getting employed at fazbear-related-enterprises.

[kagu-une]

you and mingi have been friends since childhood; you thought that you knew everything there was to know about him. there is just one secret: he's in love with you, and the feelings may be reciprocated.

pairing. song mingi x fem!reader

genre. smut mature themes ahead. minors do not interact.

content warnings. another friends-to-lovers trope (i'm not sorry). non-idol!au. dom!mingi. sub!reader. desperate sex? idk how to put it, you'll see. possible jealousy? possessive!mingi. fingering (f receiving). use of pet names such as 'baby'', 'good girl'. gentle degradation?? praise. big pp!mingi...... unprotected sex (use protection or Else). a little teenie weenie bit of plot. ahem. anyways

a/n. it seems that i write best at the ass crack of dawn, or in a (nonexistent) time crunch. anyways this is a drabble that's been living in my fully furnished frontal lobe for a while, hope it lives up to your expectations @lissiesykes :p this has not been proofread btw

smut beneath the drop down!

it was the same saturday ritual that has carried on for years since you started college and moved into your own apartment: your best friend, mingi, would come over and the two of you would waste the evening away by rotting on your couch, and forcing him to watch whatever series was your newest hyperfixation.

this saturday was no different. you had long since showered and changed into a pair of dilapidated sweatpants, and a shirt that you were sure was mingi's, but figured it shrunk in the dryer. you had just finished the usual routine of microwaving a bag of popcorn when you heard a familiar knock at your door. setting the bag of popcorn on the counter to cool off, you padded across the living room to answer the door. behind it stood mingi, his large stature easy filling up the doorframe. though you watched him hit his growth spurts as a kid, his height always caught you by surprise.

"hey!" you greeted him with a soft smile, stepping off to the side to allow him to enter your apartment.

"hey," replied he as he entered, kicking his shoes off by the door. he shrugged off the hoodie that he wore as he made his way into the living room and tossed it over the back of the sofa. "it smells good in here."

you chuckle to yourself as you close the door and lock the deadbolt; mingi said the same thing every time he stepped foot into your home, even though you made the same snacks nearly every time.

"i'd hope so... it's popcorn." you had returned to the kitchen to grab a bowl from a cabinet, and proceeded to dump the popcorn into it now that it was cool enough to handle. "we're almost done with ratched, is it cool if we finish it tonight?"

mingi had since made himself comfortable on the couch, stretching his legs out to rest against the coffee table. he turned to face you from his seat as you spoke. "of course, i was looking forward to the finale, anyways."

he took it upon himself to turn the television on, knowing you'd be joining him on the couch soon enough. he launched netflix and clicked your profile, scrolling until he found the 'recently watched' section. mingi selected the show and got comfortable in his seat. you hurried to your spot next to him, snacks in hand as the introduction to the show began to play on the tv screen.

the show had long since ended, and the two of you weren't quite ready to call it quits just yet; so, you were both facing each other, having a rather lively conversation about something that had transpired in your younger years.

"dude," mingi let out an exasperated laugh as he carded a hand through his hair. "you totally froze when you tried to ask that guy out for prom. what was his name again? hongjoong?"

you groan out in residual embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands to conceal the blush that rose on your cheeks. "do you have to remind me? god, i bet he was just as embarrassed," your voice came out muffled as you spoke into your palms.

mingi's fingers curled around your wrists and pulled your hands away, laughs still bubbling past his lips. "c'mon, y/n, it isn't that bad. when is your date with him anyways?"

your ears picked up on the jealousy that tinged his voice when he brought up the fact that, yes, you did have a date with hongjoong coming up. you had reconnected with him after seeing him on a dating app. curiosity got the best of you and you swiped right — it was a match! you brought it up to mingi last saturday, and you swore that you saw his shoulders deflate just a little when you told him. you decided not to bring it up, but you couldn't help but to think that mingi looked dejected when he left that night. maybe you were thinking too much into it.

"on wednesday, i think– why does it matter to you?"

"awe," whatever hint of jealousy that you think you heard was now drowned in a playful tone. "are you getting shy?"

mingi leaned over to poke you and tickle your side, which earned a shriek from you as you launched yourself backwards to get out of his arm's reach. you batted his hand away once your back was pressed into the opposing arm of the couch. it didn't take much for mingi to close that gap, reaching for your sides once more. somehow you both got into some sort of one-upping-wrestling-match — you trying to get away from mingi, who was dead set on trying to tickle you — that landed you both on the floor.

mingi took the upper hand as he straddled your waist, and pinning your wrists to the rug beneath you. a triumphant smile was plastered on the cheeky bastard's face — he knew he had won. the two of you mirrored each other's labored breathing as you looked up at the man above you, eventually locking eyes.

the same man that got to watch you grow up, and you, him.

the same man who, when your first boyfriend broke your heart, mingi broke his nose.

mingi, who would schedule his weekends to make time for you.

mingi, with that same lazy smile that he's always had. the same smile that caused your heart to skip a beat in your chest.

the realization that you were in love with your best friend hit you like a freight train. as your eyes dipped to his plump lips, you wondered what this meant for your friendship. the last thing you wanted was to lose your best friend.

you sucked in a breath that you hadn't realized you were holding, and that soft noise is what set things into motion. mingi lowered himself on top of you, closing the gap between your bodies. his lips crashed onto yours with a ferocity that you've never seen from mingi before.

you whimper softly, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking it on it. mingi understood what was being asked and pulled away to remove it. this allowed you to catch your breath... and for reality to come crashing down on you.

"mingi," you breathed out, your meek plea too quiet for him to hear over the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears.

he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the side, before leaning forward to hover over you again, each of his hands posted on either side of your head. you did your best to keep your gaze off of his newly exposed skin.

you repeated, "mingi." it caught his attention now, mingi's eyebrow raising. "we can't do this." you didn't mean a word that came out of your mouth, but the disquietudes that swirled in your head told you to believe otherwise.

"goddamn it, y/n." he almost sounded defeated.

him cursing caught you off guard. it wasn't that you had never heard mingi cuss, because you had and did; but, never at you.

"don't you get it?" his voice was small, almost a whisper. "i love you. i've been in love with you for so long, y/n."

the confession caused your stomach to flip. whether it be out of excitement or fear was to be determined.

"i watch as you choose other people knowing that i can treat you right. i know you, y/n. everything about you. i was made for you."

mingi's face closed in on yours, and the fact that you weren't protesting only encouraged him to continue.

"no one understands you like i do. no one can make me feel so alive like you can. i don't want to live with the regret of knowing that i never tried. i need this for me." his breath fanned your face as he spoke.

his lips were brushing yours by this point. there was no denying the emotions that buzzed between you both. your hands snaked around his shoulders and pulled him forward, officially sealing your fate.

there was no time wasted from here. mingi's mouth connects with yours fiercely. his kiss instantly becomes intense as he lowers himself onto his elbows, allowing him to cradle your head in one of his hands. his fingers grip at your hair, anchoring your head back. when a soft moan slips out of you is when he plunges his tongue into your mouth. mingi moves with passion, and hope; yet, is far more calculated in his movements than you expected.

you lift your legs up to remind him that he is still sitting on you. one of his chuckles falls against your lips as he shifts his weight, using his knees to push your thighs apart and slots himself in the space between them.

when he pulls away, a string of saliva beads between your bottom lips. you break it with your finger as mingi moves to tug at your sweatpants. from your position, you could see that a tent of arousal began to form in the crotch of mingi's jeans. with the joggers out of the way, mingi could see how your panties clung to your core, your arousal blooming on the gusset.

"you have no idea how often i've thought of you like this." admitted mingi, that shit eating grin returning to his plump lips. he trailed a finger over your clothed slit, eyes flicking up to your face to watch your reactions to his touch. noting how you arched your back to chase the feeling, he tugged your panties to the side.

a shiver raced through you once your cunt was exposed, though you blushed feverishly underneath mingi's scrutiny. he continued to toy with you, leisurely and with no hurry. he dipped a finger to your entrance, only to collect your juices on his fingertips and repeat the process.

"don't be a tease, mingi," you whined out in protest, reaching down to lead his hand where you needed them most. you couldn't help but to be impatient. mingi's hands were always nice, and they had recently occupied your mind when you touched yourself.

"oh?" he asked, rhetorically. to pacify your whines, he pushed a finger into you, but held it there at the second knuckle. his thumb took position over your clit and applied enough pressure to make you shudder. "how bad do you want it, then?"

you were in no position to beg to begin with, and mingi knew it. the lack of friction was driving you crazy, but when you decided to gyrate your hips to seek out the pleasure, mingi pinned your hips down to the ground. his hand pressed into your belly, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken dare.

"tell me how bad, baby."

then he began to move his finger inside of you. at first, they were short strokes with him curling it every so often. his thumb had resorted to gentle circles against your clit.

though, when you hadn't spoken to oblige his request, another finger was added. you moaned softly as you were stretched out. usually, two fingers weren't enough to make you feel full. with mingi, however, it was just right.

he began to pull his fingers out of you, stopping just before he left you completely empty — only to thrust them back into you, bottoming out to his knuckles.

you let out a strangled cry, trying to press your knees together from the stimulation but the way mingi had you pinned made it impossible to achieve. he leaned into his hand, beginning to open you up with his fingers.

"please- fuck- mingi!" you managed, throwing your head back at the pleasure.

"there you go, y/n, i knew you could beg for it." mingi's eyes were trained on his hand, watching as your pussy swallowed his fingers up. "i make you feel so good, don't i? look at how wet you are."

you nod fervently, clinging onto every word that left his mouth. "please, mingi... i-... i need you so bad. so bad." you weren't meaning to babble so mindlessly. everything about this situation had your head reeling.

"good fucking girl." he punctuated every one of his words with deep thrusts of his fingers into you. you knew that if he kept it up at this pace, you wouldn't last much longer; even more so when he used his free hand to massage your clit.

the familiar heat began to pool in your stomach. every nerve was alive, your skin crawling with electricity. "m... mingi, i'm so close..." your eyes screwed shut as you tried your best to postpone the impending orgasm.

mingi was a man on a mission as he began to mouth at your breasts through your shirt. you pulled it up and out of the way, pushing your bra down so that your breasts were bare. his eyes drank in the sight of you as more of your body was exposed. he was a starving man sat before a feast. his plush lips closed around one of your nipples, sucking it between his teeth and rolling it between them. you cried out, your hands finding their way into mingi's hair and tugging at it.

the heat licked at your belly and spread down to your thighs as your climax closed in on you. you tried to warn him, but you were only left with your jaw slack as your orgasm rocked your body. stars studded the corners of your vision as your muscles tensed.

mingi fingered you through your orgasm, cooing sweetly into your ear as you rode your high. "you're so beautiful, all for me. all mine. you belong to me."

he didn't give you much time to recuperate from your previous orgasm before he was doffing his pants and sliding his own boxers down his thighs. with how hard he was, you could only imagine the restraint he was using before.

nothing could have prepared you to see that mingi was well endowed. you were grateful for him opening you up earlier, as you were unsure if he'd fit at all. you weren't clueless when it came to sex, but none of your previous partners were quite as big as be was.

he turned to grab a throw pillow off of the couch, motioning for you to bridge your hips. once you did, he slid the pillow beneath you. "there you go." he squeezes your bare thigh in reassurance.

your skin was warm and damp from the exertion from your previous orgasm. your pussy ached to be filled again, and you could only press your legs farther apart as mingi grasped the base of his cock and dragged his tip between your drenched folds. you shiver under his touch, especially when the head of his cock teased your hole.

mingi knew he was on borrowed time. he wanted to get inside of you before he went off like a shotgun, seeing how turned on he was from watching you come undone all over his fingers; yet, he wanted to savor the moment as long as he could. he wasn't quite convinced that this wasn't another wet dream of his. to wake up now would be so unbelievably cruel.

he eased himself into you, eyes oscillating between your pussy and your face. above all else, your safety was his main priority. every cry and whimper was a sign for him to stop, and wait until you gave a signal that you had acclimated to him stretching you out. eventually, he hit the hilt of his cock. his hips pressed against yours as he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

you caught his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it and watching as it snapped back into place. from here, you realized how beautiful that mingi truly was. his bone structure and perfectly pouty lips, and eyes that could pierce right through you.

those pouty lips were drawn into a soft smirk when you pulled away from the kiss. you nodded and shifted your hips, giving mingi the go-head to start moving.

his movements were slow and careful. his honeyed gaze boring a hole straight through you as he watched you take every inch of him. you sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, but soon the pain dissolved into wanton pleasure and need. you wrapped your legs around him as his tempo began to increase, motivating mingi to speed up.

soon, the only sounds that filled the apartment was skin against skin, and how when he angled his hips just right, turned your individual moans into high pitched whines.

mingi straightened his posture, only to grab your hips and pull you into each thrust that he delivered to you. he was desperate to feel you, desperate to get your walls to remember the shape of him. his eyebrows were knitted together with focus. a bead of sweat trailed from his forehead to his jaw.

"gonna split you in half if i have to," he muttered between heavy pants. "you're mine, y/n."

you had clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle the cries and moans that tumbled from your lips. you were sure that you'd get a noise complaint from the apartment complex tomorrow. the way mingi had you positioned made it so that with every stroke of his dick, he was ramming right into your g-spot. you blinked away tears that threatened to spill as you took what he gave you.

"do you hear me? mine." he was starting to get sloppy as he neared his own orgasm. he pressed your thighs up against your chest as he drilled into you, chasing his own orgasm. "fuck- mine. mine, mine, mine." he chanted the word like it was a mantra.

your core was tightening in another climax.

"mingi... please- i'm yours—.." you mumbled between whines and hiccups. "'m gonna cum,"

mingi's hand returned to your belly, pressing into it and earning a yelp from you. feeling his cock as it fucked you open was overstimulating. all you could manage to do was whimper and writhe beneath him.

"are you going to cum all over– fuck..– this dick? cum for me, pretty girl."

as soon as you tipped over the edge with your own orgasm, mingi's followed suit. his whole body stiffened as he came, a shiver wracking his spine as a pinched moan escaped him. your head was still swimming with pleasure as mingi stuffed you full of his seed.

you both sat still for a few moments following, the two of you catching your breaths. mingi eventually slides out of you, leaving you feeling oddly void inside. he stood, and your gaze followed him as he disappeared into the back of your apartment. once he came back, he had fixed his clothes to cover himself once again. he was carrying a warm washcloth that he used to help you wipe yourself clean.

he joined you in the floor again, laying on his side so that his torso was pressed against your side. he peppered gentle kisses along the side of your face, carefully brushing strands of hair back into place. your body was heavy, and your eyes were half lidded from physical expenditure that took place. you turned to snuggle into mingi's chest, draping an arm over his side.

"mingi." you decided to break the silence, not yet leaving the cover of his chest to meet his eyes.

"yes, y/n?"

"i love you, too. so much. forever." the confession felt natural on your tongue. only then did you decide to tilt your head back to look at him. he wore a goofy smile on his face, now wearing his own flush on his cheeks at your revelation.

"forever." mingi echoed, drawing you into his embrace once more. you welcomed his warmth. when you nuzzled your face into him, his scent wrapped around you.

you could get used to this.

[corroded-hellfire]

The year is 1986. Eddie is in danger of not graduating (again). Reader is his girlfriend, and she’s tired of him not taking his future seriously, so she breaks up with him. He finally decides to get his sh*t together and buckles down. But is it too late? Will he graduate? Will the love of his life take him back? Up to you, bb!

xoxoxoxo, @munson-blurbs 💚💚 PS ily

Anything for you, my love! I hope you enjoy the way I broke Eddie’s heart. It hurt me more than it did him. ily2💚

Words: 5.2k

“Eddie, we’ve got to study,” you say. He’s kneeling behind you on his bed, pressing soft kisses along the back of your neck as you try to focus on the textbook laying open in your lap. 

“How am I supposed to concentrate, hmm? With you sitting on my bed, looking so beautiful,” Eddie says against your skin. 

“Okay,” you say, letting your book thump onto his sheets. “I’m gonna quiz you on stuff that’ll be on our finals. For every right answer, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. For every wrong answer, it’s an extra fifteen minutes of study time.”

“Fire away, baby.” Eddie lounges back against his wall and tucks his hands behind his head, a sinful smirk on his lips.

“Let’s start with English,” you say as you shift on the bed to face him. “What two Shakespeare plays are written entirely in verse?”

Eddie purses his lips, eyes searching his bedroom ceiling as if the answers were written across it in big bold letters. “Hamlet and…McBeth?” 

“King John and Richard II,” you say with a sigh. Eddie groans and lets his hands fall down to his lap. 

“Ehh, shit,” Eddie says. “But just because it had two answers doesn’t mean that’s half an hour of study time! That was one question, so only one fifteen-minute addition.”

“Fine,” you say, silently knowing this is all in vain anyway. Eddie’s been caring less and less about school lately, to the point where you’re afraid he’s going to fail senior year for the third time. “We’ll move onto biology.”

“Take your clothes off and I’ll give you a biology lesson.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Fine, fine, sorry. Go on.”

“What part of the brain deals with balance and coordination?”

One of his dark brown eyes squeezes closed and he tilts his head from side to side as if he’s deliberating what he wants for dinner. 

“The left part. No, wait, that’s a joke! I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Um…the frontal lobe?” Eddie winces, knowing that this was just a wild guess—it was the first part of the brain he could think of. 

“The cerebellum,” you say.

“Okay,” Eddie says, nodding his head. “I’ll remember that. The cerebrum controls balance and coordination.”

“The cerebellum,” you correct. 

Eddie groans, rolling the tension out of his neck before letting his head thump back against the wall. 

“Come on, hit me again.”

“Last one,” you say as you adjust your legs tucked underneath you. “History this time. What city was the first capital of the United States?”

“I know it wasn’t DC,” Eddie says, pointing his finger at you. “Hmm, what other cities were important then? Boston, Philly…Philly! Philadelphia!”

At the shake of your head, Eddie slumps down on the bed.

“New York City,” you tell him. 

“Ugh, fuck me.” Eddie rubs his hands over his face, and you give him a pat on the leg. 

“Not tonight, hot shot. Grab your books.”

Spending your free period in the library, pouring over books, you’re jarred out of the world of microeconomics by the chair across the table from you screeching against the floor as it’s pulled out. A dark figure plops down in it, and you glance up to see the dark leather jacket and black Judas Priest t-shirt that you’d sat next to in last period English. Eddie runs a hand over his unruly curls and shoots you a smile.

“Hey, babe.”

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing here?” you get out through gritted teeth. You’re almost certain the pencil in your hand is going to snap in half. “You’re supposed to be in history.”

“Ugh, O’Donnell,” Eddie complains, dropping his head back. “I swear, she was there for half the shit she’s telling us about. God, I couldn’t take it anymore. She’s just droning on and on. Told her I had to take a leak and knew this is where I’d find my best girl.”

“Eddie!” You all but shout his name before remembering you’re in the library and you lower your voice. “Eddie, you’re already in danger of failing her class. Among others. Should you really be skipping class?”

“Babe, it’s been five minutes,” he says with a chuckle, his carefree attitude that you usually love grating on your nerves. 

“Okay. So, go back and pay attention now.” Your tone is sharp and curt, but you’ve put up with this long enough. 

“Trying to get rid of me?” Eddie asks, jutting out his lower lip in what is an admittedly adorable pout. He leans forward on the table, letting his hand slide over to rest on top of one of yours.

“Trying to get you to graduate,” you say, snatching your hand away. Your boyfriend watches you with wide eyes as you slam your book closed and shove it into your backpack. Slinging it over your shoulder, you stand up and nod your head towards the library door. “Let’s go.”

Eddie follows behind you like a lost puppy as you storm out of the library and stalk down the hall. Once you’ve turned down an empty hallway, you spin around to face him. The anger in your eyes takes him aback, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“You’re mad,” he says softly. 

“Yes, I’m mad,” you snap. “My boyfriend doesn’t seem to give a shit if he graduates high school or not.”

“I care,” Eddie defends weakly.

“If you cared, you’d be in class right now. Or would study with me when I ask—or at all! Jesus, Eddie, I’ve been trying for months to get you to take your future seriously.”

“My future with you is what’s most important,” Eddie says, hand reaching out for you. Hurt flashes across his face when you pull away, and it hurts you too. This isn’t what you wanted. You’ve never wanted to be the reason Eddie’s in pain. But you also can’t just sit by and let him do this to himself. 

“That’s part of the problem, Eddie. You’re so focused on me and not enough on you.” 

“Because I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too, Eddie,” you reply, tears starting to fill your eyes. “That’s why I’m so concerned about you. About your future.”

“I’ll go back to class,” Eddie says, taking a step closer to you. “I-I’ll study with you. Baby, I promise.”

“You’ve said that before.” You squeeze your eyes closed, resolving yourself to what you know you have to do. As much as you don’t want it. As much as it’s going to break your heart. “It’s not enough, Eddie.”

“Then what?” Eddie rests his hands on your upper arms. “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s too late,” you say, shaking your head. 

“W-What do you mean it’s too late?” But the dread in his eyes says he knows exactly what you mean. 

“You’re not taking your future seriously. I’ve tried so hard to help you, but there’s only so much I can push you. At some point you have to do it for yourself. I’m so tired of waiting for you to do it, though. It hurts me to sit here and watch you not care about you as much as I do.” 

“Sweetheart, please—.”

“Eddie, it’s over. We’re over.” 

Tears flood his eyes as his jaw hangs open. Eddie’s hands slip from your arms, and he stumbles back a step. You know the pain on his face must be reflected in your own. And maybe it means you’re a coward, but you can’t look at his broken expression anymore. Tucking your thumbs into your backpack straps, you turn around and walk down the empty hallway, away from Eddie.

Eddie feels numb. He’s walking around school in a haze. Friends try to talk to him in the hallway, but they sound like they’re underwater and Eddie can’t understand them. Gareth waves his hand in front of Eddie’s face, but he doesn’t even blink. Jeff grabs his shoulder, but Eddie doesn’t even feel it, he just keeps walking. It’s not until Dustin grabs Eddie by the zipper of his leather jacket and pushes him up against the lockers that the twenty-year-old snaps back to reality.

“What?” Eddie asks, big brown eyes blinking as he tries to focus on the shorter man in front of him.

“Are you okay? What the hell is going on?” Dustin asks. Eddie’s eyes find the floor and he shakes off Dustin’s hands. 

“She left me,” he mumbles. 

“What?” Gareth asks, leaning in to hear him better.

“She fucking broke up with me, okay?” His friends flinch as Eddie pushes himself off the lockers and runs his hands over his hair. They back away, giving him room to pace the small area around him. 

“Why?” Jeff asks, sounding half afraid to ask the question to his hot-tempered friend.

“She said I’m not taking my future seriously,” Eddie answers. “That I don’t seem to care that I’m failing classes. Again.” Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see his three friends share a look. He stops pacing and stares at them. “What?”

“I mean,” Jeff starts quietly, “she has a point.”

When Eddie just continues to stare, Dustin decides to speak up as well.

“She’s been trying real hard to help you, man. You haven’t seemed to care, though.”

“I…I care,” Eddie says. 

“When’s the last time she tried to get you to study?” Dustin asks.

“The other night.” Eddie remembers, thinking about how he failed your quiz. 

“And what did you do?” Dustin asks.

Eddie sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead. “Tried to have sex with her.” 

“This is probably a good thing,” Gareth says, shrinking in on himself when Eddie glares at him. “For you. So you can focus on school.”

Eddie scoffs. “She really think I’m gonna be able to focus on school after she shatters my heart like this? Fuck, I love her so much.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Jeff says. 

“Fuck this shit.” Eddie slams his fist against the lockers and strides down the hall, towards the exit.

When Eddie gets home, Wayne hasn’t left for work yet. He’s sitting on the couch, remote control in his hand as he points it at the small television and clicks through the channels. Eddie wrenches open the front door, dirty black boots stomping into the trailer before banging the door closed behind him. Wayne pauses his channel surfing to raise an eyebrow at his nephew.

“What’s the matter with you, boy?”

Ignoring the older man, Eddie strides down the hallway to his bedroom, footsteps so heavy they rattle the mugs hanging on the living room walls. Wayne was no stranger to Eddie temper tantrums—having raised him through puberty—but this is a level he hasn’t seen since the last time a letter from his father arrived. He gives it a few moments before deciding to see what’s going on with the brooding boy. Wayne hoists himself off the couch, groaning as his bones click and muscles tighten. 

The bedroom door isn’t fully closed, so Wayne swings it open to see Eddie lying flat on his back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. He hadn’t even bothered to shed himself of the leather jacket or boots before plopping down. 

“I know I may not have taught you much in life, boy, but I know I taught you manners,” Wayne says. 

Eddie stays silent, which is never the case. That worries Wayne more than anything. 

“Eddie?”

“She dumped me.”

Wayne takes a moment to process what his nephew says. He places his hands on his hips and blows out a breath. 

“What happened?”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face before responding. When he does speak, his tone is bitter. “She said that I don’t care about my future. That she’s tired of sitting around while I’m out here being a dumbass.”

“She wouldn’t say that,” Wayne says with a shake of his head.

“Maybe not with those exact words.” Eddie forces himself to sit up, shoulders slumped. “But the same messaging.”

Sighing, Wayne sits down next to him and pats his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. She’s a good kid.”

“I always told her that you like her more than you like me,” Eddie grumbles. 

“Only sometimes,” Wayne jokes with a small smile. “Now, you’re allowed to wallow for one day—two at the most. Then you get your ass in gear and get your act together.”

With a low groan, Eddie flops back down on the bed. “Don’t wanna.”

“Well,” Wayne says, pushing himself off the bed. “The girl is either gonna be right about you or wrong. It’s up to you which one it is.”

Wayne makes his way out of the bedroom and Eddie rolls over so he’s face down on his bed. He squeezes his eyes shut as the first of the tears begin to burn his eyes. The way his throat begins to tighten has Eddie gripping his blanket in his fists. Wayne’s words repeat in his head. Would you end up being right? Is everything you said about him true? Of course it is, he thinks to himself. He’s about to fail senior year for the third time—and he didn’t even care. Until now, he decides. Pushing himself off the bed, Eddie yanks his leather jacket off. He tosses it in the general direction of his closet, not caring where it lands as he bends down to pick his biology textbook from the floor. 

“Should be able to read this whole damn thing before finals.”

Eddie’s friends hardly recognize him at lunch the next day. Instead of arguing over Lucas missing another Hellfire meeting for a basketball game and munching on pretzels, he has his nose buried in a book. 

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Gareth says, dropping his tray on the tabletop. His brows pinch together when Eddie doesn’t even lift his head. 

“Is that Eddie Munson reading a book?” Jeff asks.

“And not just a book,” Dustin says as he slides into the seat next to his Dungeon Master. He picks the corner up to take a look at the cover to confirm his suspicions, but Eddie’s quick to slap his hand away so he can keep reading. “Eddie is reading Romeo and Juliet.”

“Look at this cultured man,” Gareth says. Still, Eddie doesn’t lift his head. 

“How far do you think this will go?” Mike asks. “Think we could shit talk Metallica?”

“I’m reading, I’m not deaf,” Eddie says. 

“Is this about—” Lucas starts but Dustin elbows him in the ribs. 

Finally, Eddie raises his eyes from the book and sends a death glare to all of his friends. He slams the book closed and snatches it up before striding out of the cafeteria. Weren’t these the same assholes who had told him that you were right about him not taking his future seriously? But the moment they see him trying to improve himself, they decide to make snide jokes. Eddie grumbles as he makes his way to the library, banging the door open and ignoring the sneer from the librarian as he drops down at a table. With a sigh, he opens the book again and continues where he left off before he was rudely interrupted. 

Two periods later, Eddie’s pretty sure Mrs. O’Donnell is going to have a heart attack after he raises his hand and answers a question correctly. The crone takes a moment before continuing her lecture and Eddie smirks in self-satisfaction. 

Once Eddie gets used to his eyes being tired from reading so much, and his headaches from the information overloads start to abate, he manages to bring his grades up. It takes a couple of weeks for him to finally see the difference, but when he does, he feels something that he’s not sure if he’s ever felt before: pride. Being proud of himself is odd at first, and he smokes a bit more than usual to dull the sensation, but he soon comes to enjoy it and the pleasant buzz he feels has nothing to do with the weed. 

A few weeks out from graduation, Eddie’s lounging on the wall in front of the school, stretched out as the late spring sun warms the afternoon, reading the assigned chapter in The Outsiders. A shadow falls across the pages of his book and Eddie squints as he looks up, finding you standing next to him, thumb hooked in the strap of your backpack, a strained smile on your face. 

“Hey, stranger,” you say. 

Eddie pushes himself into a sitting position, letting his long legs dangle over the side of the wall. He closes his book, keeping a ring clad finger between the pages that he’s currently on. 

“Hey,” Eddie says. This is the first time you’ve talked to one another since that day in the hallway. Neither of you had even contacted one another to give back stuff that was at the others’ houses. Eddie knows there’s a handful of his t-shirts at your place and he’s not sure if it comforts him or causes him pain to wonder if you still wear them to sleep. And he knows exactly where the David Bowie tapes that you left in his room are—one is in his stereo right now. He’s managed to either hide or push down the pain from the breakup, but he still spends most nights falling asleep to Space Oddity or Ziggy Stardust. It even got to the point where Wayne had come into his room and said, “As glad as I am that I don’t have to listen to your screaming music, you’ve gotta stop wallowing in pity. Or at least listen to Elvis or somethin’ while ya do.”

“I saw you in the library last week. And I’ve heard that you’ve been working really hard,” you tell him. “I’m glad, Eddie. That’s amazing.”

“Uh, thanks,” he says, nodding his head. Under the guise of avoiding the bright sun, he ducks his head down and looks at his white sneakers. But really, he’s not sure if he can look you in the eye for more than a second at a time. The sadness had given way to anger, which gave away to an empty, aching pain in the pit of his stomach. “I, um, started because I didn’t want you to be right. Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought I needed to get my shit together. But, uh, now I’m doing it for me. Trying to put me first.”

“Good,” you say. Eddie looks up to see you giving him a genuine smile. The one not many other people got to see. You’re not attempting to give him a pep talk or play some kind of game with him. Eddie can tell that you’re being authentic and really are pleased to see him succeeding. “You deserve it, Eddie. I’m proud of you.”

The words affect him more than he would’ve thought. His throat feels tighter and suddenly the spring day feels like it’s a blisteringly hot August afternoon. “Thanks,” he manages to get out. 

“And I—um, I’m sorry. I really hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” And he does. Now. He’d had moments of thinking you had done it as a way of calling him stupid or pathetic. But once the haziness of the initial heartbreak wore off, he realized you would never think that, let alone be cruel enough to insinuate it. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie,” you say, offering him a small wave. He nods his head in acknowledgment and tries to get back to his book. But too much of you fills his head for him to be able to focus on what Ponyboy is talking about.

Finals come and they go. Eddie waits with bated breath for the results, feeling more on edge, even with kicking up the pot smoking again. When Eddie sees that he’s passed every single exam, the high he feels is better than he could’ve imagined. Not quite as good as some drug highs and definitely nowhere as near the high you gave him, but it’s still good. For the first time in his life, Eddie is excited to come home and wave a school paper in Wayne’s face. In the past, it’d been a detention slip, a letter of reprimand from the principal, or a failed report card that he needed to have signed and returned. But this is something good. Better than good, Wayne tells him. 

“Looks like you’ve got to get yourself a cap and gown, boy.”

So, he does. When he puts them on the morning of graduation though, he groans at how the shade of green looks on him. Black was his best color, according to him, so something this bright just wasn’t him. 

He strolls over to his stereo near the window and firmly presses the play button. Heroes by David Bowie fills the small bedroom as Eddie takes another look at himself in the mirror. No one would look good in this color, he thinks. Well, he muses, that’s not true. You would look good in this color because it’s impossible for you to ever look anything less than breathtaking. 

I, I will be king 

And you, you will be queen

Eddie sighs and turns away from the mirror. Grabbing his keys off of his bedside table, Eddie clicks the pause button on his stereo before heading down the hallway. 

“See ya at the ceremony, old man,” Eddie says to his uncle before he’s out the trailer door. 

Only the graduates and school faculty get there this early, so the parking lot is relatively empty when Eddie pulls in. He hops out of his van and sees Jeff getting out of his car a few spaces over. 

“Glad to see you look as awful as I do in this shit,” Eddie says as he makes his way over to his fellow Hellfire member. 

“Black robes would’ve been brutal under this sun though, dude,” Jeff replies.

Eddie shrugs because he knows his friend is right. Together they walk towards the football field, a place Eddie actively tried to avoid all the years he spent here. It looks like most of the students are here already. Not long after Eddie spots Jason Carver straightening his tie, even though it’s under the gown, all the students are herded into the gymnasium to wait for the ceremony to begin. The gym smells even worse than normal with the whole senior class shoved inside. Eddie spies you off towards a corner, laughing about something with Nancy. It wouldn’t surprise him if you’re trying to make her laugh to take her mind off of the valedictorian speech she’s about to give. Eyes taking in how you look in the green cap and gown, Eddie knows he was right before; you are the only one who looks drop dead gorgeous in the graduation garment.  He knows his eyes have been on you for too long, but he can’t bring himself to tear them away.

“So, what’s going on there?” Jeff asks, seeing where his friend’s gaze lies. “You did what she wanted, right? Are you going to try and get back together with her?”

Eddie sighs and finally breaks his gaze away from you. Instead, he looks up into the rafters of the gym, squinting as the bright lights shine down.

“I don’t really think this was a ‘if you fix this, we’ll get back together’ type of situation,” Eddie says. “Besides, it’s been months. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been on dates with a bunch of different guys by now.” 

“You still love her, though.” It’s not a question from Jeff, it’s a statement. A fact that was as obvious as the scuff marks on the floor of the gym. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, not adding anything further. 

“Shouldn’t you at least try then?” Jeff asks. “You did all that hard work.”

“But I didn’t do it for her,” Eddie answers with a shake of his head. “I did it for me.”

“But you still did it,” Jeff points out. “It won’t be in vain either way, man, because you’re here right now. About to graduate. I’m just saying you should talk to her. See where things stand.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says with a sigh. 

Mrs. O’Donnell bustles into the room—well, as fast as she can at her age. Taking stock of the children around the gym, she claps her hands together to get their attention.

“Okay, okay, everyone. Time to line up. We’ll be starting soon.”

Jeff and Eddie let themselves be herded with the rest of their class and listen half-heartedly at instructions shouted at them as they make their way back outside. 

Once the ceremony starts, it’s long and boring. Nancy’s speech isn’t as bad as Eddie expected, though. But Principal Higgins has to talk, then just about every other school official that Eddie swears he’s never seen in the front office even after all the time he’s spent in there. Then the never ending list of names begins. Of course all the names are familiar to Eddie, but that doesn’t mean he cares enough to watch each of them walk across the stage, shake hands, and get their diploma. There are only a select few people that Eddie actually pays attention for. 

“Nancy Wheeler.”

“Robin Buckley.”

“Jason Carver.” Eddie pretends to gag.

“Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Jeff Donaldson.”

Then it’s your turn. Eddie can’t take his eyes off of you or the big grin on your face as you hop up on the stage and go through the long line of people none of you had ever heard of to shake their hands. Your eyes light up as your diploma is handed to you. Eddie doesn’t even realize he’s smiling along with you until his cheeks begin to ache. That settles it, he thinks. I have to talk to her. 

“Eddie Munson.”

Hearing his own name called over the loudspeaker jars him out of his thoughts. He’s distantly aware of people cheering for him as he makes his way to the stage, but it feels too weird to be real. People didn’t even cheer for him at Corroded Coffin shows. Eddie takes the steps up to the stage two at a time and forces a pleasant smile to his lips as he shakes Principal Higgins’ hand. The rest of the faces become a blur as he moves from person to person until he finally gets his diploma. He grins at the simple rolled up paper in his hands. It’s just a blank piece of paper until his real diploma comes in, he knows, but it means so much more. It’s proof that he did it. That he graduated at long last. The now-familiar pride swells up in him as he heads back to his seat among the students in the green sea of their robes. 

When the ceremony finally comes to an end, there’s hugging and crying and squealing coming from all around the football field. Eddie makes his way out into the parking lot where families are taking photos with their graduates, all smiles and congratulations. Wayne’s truck is hard to miss in the parking lot; by far the oldest vehicle there. Eddie heads in that direction and is greeted by a beaming uncle.

“M’so proud of you, boy.” Wayne pulls Eddie into a hug, which wasn’t a usual occurrence in the Munson household. “You put your mind to something and ya did it.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, smiling sheepishly. 

“Congratulations.”

The familiar voice coming from behind him has Eddie spinning around so fast he hears his neck crack.

“Uh, thanks,” he says. “You too.” 

“C’mon, let me get a picture of the two of you,” Wayne says, pulling a camera that looks older than Eddie out of his pocket. 

Eddie is about to protest, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or feel obligated, but you’re looping your arm through his before he can even open his mouth. You tilt your head, close to Eddie’s shoulder but not quite touching, and smile prettily for the camera. Eddie musters his best look for the picture as well, but on the inside, he’s cringing as he imagines what that picture must look like.

“Perfect,” Wayne says. He unlocks his truck and tosses the camera inside. “I’ll see you later, Eddie?”

“Okay,” Eddie says.

Wayne pulls Eddie in for another hug before enveloping you in one as well.

“I’m real proud of both of you,” he says.

“Thanks, Wayne,” you reply.

Wayne climbs into his truck and gives the two of you one last wave before heading out of the parking lot. 

“So, uh,” Eddie starts at the same time you say, “So, listen.”

Eddie chuckles and nods his head at you. “You first.”

“Oh, I, um, was just going to ask if you were going to the party tonight. At Cat’s place.”

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” Eddie says as he unzips the graduation robe. “Why?”

“Well, uh, I—I was wondering if maybe you’d want to? I mean, I-I’ll be there. But if you don’t wanna, I totally understand.”

“You want me to?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows at you as he slips his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. 

“I do,” you say, a shy look that Eddie is unaccustomed to on your face. “Like I said, I get it if you don’t want to. But I had to at least ask.”

“I guess it wouldn’t kill me to go for a little while. Might be able to sell.”

“You don’t want to celebrate?” you ask. “Dance and drink?”

“Of all people, you should know better than anyone that I don’t dance,” Eddie says with a small smile. 

“But you drink,” you point out. 

“Why do you want to spend time with me?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to the side, like a puppy wondering what it’s human just said. Better to ask bluntly and get a clear answer then try to piece one together in his mind. 

“I need a reason?”

“Kind of. After you dumped me? Yeah, you do.”

“I miss you,” you admit, so quietly that Eddie almost misses it. “I’ve missed you from the moment I left you standing there in that hallway. So many times I almost caved and begged you to take me back. But then I’d see you studying, and it would remind me that you need to focus on you. And you did. Look what you accomplished. I’m really, really proud of you, Eddie.”

“Not bad for the school freak, huh?” Eddie asks, the beginnings of a smirk curling his pink lips. 

“I think you need a new nickname,” you muse. “We’re not in school anymore.”

“Maybe we can come up with one at the party tonight,” Eddie says, causing your face to light up in excitement. 

“Really? You’ll go with me?” you ask, eyes widening in hope.

“I’d be pretty dumb not to.”

“You’ve always been far from dumb, sweetheart,” you tell him. Hesitantly, you reach out and lace your fingers with his. “I think I came up with a new nickname for you, too.”

“Do tell,” Eddie says. 

“No more Eddie the Freak or Eddie the Banished,” you say, imitating Eddie’s Dungeon Master voice. “You are now Eddie the graduate.”

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

Guns N’ Roses Fic: You Don’t Know How This Works

Summary: One morning Howard telephones Axl to interview him and to secretly get under his skin by flirting with his girlfriend, Roxanne. Little does Howard know that Axl has other mischievous plans up his sleeve.

Characters: Axl Rose, OC: Roxanne, and Howard Stern.

Pairing(s): Axl Rose/original female character, Axl Rose/female reader, Axl Rose/Roxanne, Howard Stern/Roxanne.

Rating: Explicit, 21+

Word Count: 2,357

Warnings: Howard is a creep, humiliation, drug use, mentions of bondage, vaginal fingering, forced climax, and oral sex.

A/N: This fic is inspired by Howard Stern’s 1990 interview between Axl Rose and Sebastian Bach. Parts of the interview have been altered to fit this story’s plot. In the fic, Roxanne is semi based off of Erin Everly. Link to video => here

Everything inside the condo was quiet. Morning light seeped into the bedroom, casting a golden glow on both the wrinkled white bedsheets and Axl Rose's sleeping form, while his head was buried underneath a layer of pillows. It was peaceful. Until suddenly, on the nightstand, the telephone began to ring. The obnoxious sound reverberated off the walls. Axl stayed in bed, somewhat blocking out the noise with his pillows.

He had stayed up all night partying with his friends, drinking vast amounts of hard liquor, injecting himself with heroine, and French kissing his beloved sweetheart, Roxanne aka Roxi. His body felt wrecked and his mind harbored a horrible migraine. The ringing only made his problems worse.

Axl groaned awake, picking up the receiver, a hint of grogginess in his tone. "Hello?" Axl's eyes caught a glimpse of the clock - 9:15 a.m. Who the fuck was calling this early?

"Hey, Axl, it's me - Howard Stern. How the hell are you? What have you been up to?"

Axl's peripheral vision was somewhat blurred and his mind was not registering the bombardment of questions Howard threw at him. He sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over his face, hoping his mind would clear up. Unfortunately, for the migraine, it still knocked on his frontal lobe like Heaven's Door. "Wh-what?"

"Come on, man. Don't dodge the question. Tell me about your life. What's been happening? Are you still banging chicks? Writing any new songs? You still partying like a wild animal?" Howard always pried each of his guests on air and wanted to know everything about their life. It didn't matter if it was his business or not, Howard made it his business.

"Yeah, man. Sure."

The answer was vague and Howard knew it. He needed to try a new tactic, go slow, take each question at a time, and then he'd get the answers he was searching for, including some dirt as a bonus. In the end, the turtle won, not the hare. "You sound tired. Did I wake you up?"

"No," Axl lied. "Just laying in bed, reading some magazines."

"Yeah? Any hot chicks on those covers?"

"Not a chance.” He cleared his throat. “They're Rolling Stone articles."

"Oh, business replaced pleasure this morning?"

"If they didn't shred me in the papers it'd be the opposite."

"What kind of shredding?"

"How I don't live an honest life. That kind of bullshit." It was true. The media did try to distort his public image by twisting the facts and cranking out lies about his personal life and incidents that have occurred on tour.

"I hear ya, man. Critics can fuck you right in the ass. It's their job. They wanna fuck every celebrity they can find, including me. I'd rather they sucked my dick. Like in your song, Out Ta Get Me."

Axl snorted. "It's one thing we have in common." His eyes wandered to the other side of the bed, noticing the empty space. Where was his baby girl? Was she in the kitchen brewing some coffee? Making breakfast? Outside of the bedroom, he didn't hear the clinking of dishes to confirm his suspicions, or the aroma of coffee grains. “Roxanne?" Axl called, unaware that Howard was still on the other line.

"Oh, is she there?" Excitement crept into Howard's voice.

Axl grunted. "Yeah, man, she's here..."

"What's she doing right now?"

He shrugged. Why was Howard interested in his girl? It seemed strange…odd. "Hell if I knew. She disappeared on me."

"Uh oh. That doesn't sound so promising," Howard mused. "Is she fucking one of your boys?"

Axl eyed the door. "Nah, man. She's loyal." Or at least he hoped she was. She wouldn't wander out of the condo to fuck one of his band members. If that was the case, he'd tie her down on the bed and remind her who she belonged to. It wasn't the first time that happened and it wouldn't be the last.

"Doesn't sound loyal," Howard commented. "Tell me something: does she have big tits?"

The question took him off guard but Axl tried to remain unfazed. Instead, he chuckled, picturing her voluminous globes and perked nipples. "Why? You jealous?"

"No, no. All I'm saying is," Howard corrected himself, "you're lucky for finding chicks with great racks. It's a rare find these days."

"A lot of 'em are fake, but she's a natural."

Howard paused, listening intently. He heard many rumors about Axl over the years, particularly about his temper. Howard was purposely trying to get a rise out of him and see if he would blow up over the line in front of Howard's daily listeners. He just needed to push each button a little more...

Axl continued, "You can squeeze 'em and all sorts of sounds come outta her like a chew toy."

"You suck her tits too?"

"Lick, bite, suck," he elaborated. "Look, it doesn't matter. She creams for me. End of story."

Around the corner, Axl heard the front door unlatch, creek open, and close. Roxanne must've arrived home.

“Axl?"

"In here, baby."

Roxi walked into the doorway of their bedroom, holding two coffees and dangling a plastic bag, with a bagel logo on it, around her forearm.

Axl sighed with relief. She didn't wake up early to cheat on him. She went out of her way to buy them both breakfast from their favorite bakery across the street.

Roxi held up his beverage, whispering, “Black coffee with extra milk for my King."

Howard interrupted the precious moment with his chattering demands. "Lemme speak to her." If Axl denied his wishes, he wouldn't hear the endless complaints from Howard for the rest of the interview, and Axl was already running low on patience this morning. "Babe, come here. Howard wants to talk to you." Axl motioned for her to step closer.

Roxanne walked in, handing him his coffee, and setting the bag on the nightstand. She grabbed the phone, pressing it against her ear while her index finger snaked around the cord, twirling it. It was a nervous habit. She never spoke to a famous person before, let alone Howard Stern. "Hello?"

"Is this Roxi?" Howard questioned, wanting confirmation.

"Yes."

Her voice was music to his ears. She sounded sweet like licorice, seemed childish like a doll, and innocent like Bambi. He could tell her very essence encapsulated an aura that could only be found within his childhood but was buried underneath life's hellish experiences, stripping away such purity. "You sound very beautiful," Howard complimented.

Roxi blushed, twirling her finger around the cord until her blood circulation came to a halt. "Thank you."

"What are you wearing?"

She looked down at her attire. "I'm wearing a dress."

"What kind of dress? Is it short?"

"No, its long. A long black dress. Nothing fancy."

"I see. I bet it's accentuating your curves, am I right?"

Roxi blushed again, harder this time, and held the phone against her ear tighter, hoping to block out Howard's voice in case Axl overheard him. She knew how jealous and overprotective Axl got, especially towards playful banter. "Thanks. Uhm...it's stylish, yeah."

Howard sensed her uneasiness. It was time to go straight for the kill. "Right. So, tell me, have you and Axl been making love every night?"

Roxanne turned to look at Axl. "Why are you asking me these questions…?" She asked, laughing nervously. Axl caught on and knew Howard was acting unprofessional. He took the phone away from her, sitting her down on his lap. "Howard," Axl said, wrapping an arm around Roxi's waist to keep her glued to his side.

"What, man? I'm just curious. I need to know the details. Is she a good lay?"

"Best lay you'll never have." Axl squeezed Roxi's hip. "She's mine. Nobody can have her."

"Nobody can have her yet she has everybody." Howard shot back.

Axl tried to keep himself composed. "Nah, man. You don't know how this works." He took Roxi's coffee out of her hand and placed it on the nightstand. He cradled the phone with his shoulder, using one of his hands to hold Roxi in place while his other hand sneaked underneath her dress, diving into her panties. She jolted at the sensation, wide-eyed, cupping her mouth shut with both hands.

Why was he displaying his dominance now?! She wondered.

"How what works?"

"This." Axl slid a finger into Roxanne's pussy, making her gasp. He could feel her velvet walls clench around his digit.

"How does it work?" Howard persisted.

"Only I know how it works." Axl slid in another finger, hooking them inside her. Roxi moaned into her palms and arched her back. "I intend to keep it that way." She didn't notice but Axl's eyes turned a shade darker as his dominant, protective side took over.

"Aww, I can't be part of your little club?" Howard found this whole interaction amusing and was oblivious to what was actually occurring.

"Nope. Just me." Axl withdrew both fingers, sliding them along her slit until he found her clit, stroking it. Roxi whined, leaning herself further onto his chest.

"I see. Only the cool kids get to join, huh?"

Axl nodded, stroking her clit a little harder.

Howard shook his head in mock disappointment. "That's alright. I'm not missing much."

Roxi came. Axl swiped his fingers along her cunt, coating them in her warm, fresh juices. “Not a damn thing." He confirmed, sucking away her slick. She was the most delicious thing he ever tasted. She was far superior than any meal Howard would never graze upon in his lifetime.

Roxanne's body went limp against Axl as she tried to catch her breath from the quick yet intense orgasm. She could feel his hardened erection poke into her ass at the seam of his pants. Now it was his turn to get a release.

Lying back on the bed, Axl repositioned Roxi to straddle his waist. She inched her body downwards and undid the leather belt-buckle on his jeans. Next, she used her teeth to unzip the fly of his jeans, tasting a hint of copper on her tongue. Her fingers dug in to free his throbbing manhood that was already leaking precum. In the room, a cool breeze wafted over his cock, helping it grow a few inches.

"So, Axl, tell me, will there be any covers on this album?"

Axl wanted to forget Howard was on the phone. He wanted to forget this interview was even happening and, instead, focus on the pure, erotic bliss Roxanne was gonna provide him. Axl wished he could smash the phone and never hear Howard's annoying voice again. But he couldn't. He needed the recognition. He needed the world - his fans - to hear about his upcoming album. And most of all...he needed a damn good blowjob.

Roxanne suctioned her lips around the base of his cock, diving head down to engulf his shaft in her throat. Axl cursed under his breath and used his free hand to guide Roxi's head, setting the pace.

"It's uhm...it's coming. We recorded Live And Let Die a few months ago."

"Oh yeah? The James Bond hit? I can foresee you guys executing that."

"Yeah, it's been really great." Axl looked down and saw Roxi's head bob up and down, causing her cheeks to hollow out, sharpening the contrast on her cheekbones. It was a lovely sight to behold. He bit back a few moans, cursing under his breath again. He didn't want Howard to know or suspect an inkling about this situation.

Reaching his hand out, Axl caressed Roxi's dark locks and petted her head, a notion that indicated she was being a good girl for making him feel grounded and satisfied.

"I heard a rumor Steven left the band-"

"He didn't leave. He got fired." Before Howard could ask why, Axl responded, “couldn't leave his drugs, couldn't leave her..." He closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Roxanne was more addicting than heroine. Every time he got a piece of her, or she got a piece of him, he craved her insatiably. He could spend all day drinking her sweet nectar until the pipe ran dry. But he would want to come back for more, as if his thirst never got quenched during the first round.

"Mrs. Brownstone," Howard joked.

Axl laughed. "Yeah, yeah. We should've named it that." He could feel his climax approaching like a freightrain. He bucked his hips upwards, causing Roxi to gag a little. She recovered and only sucked him off faster.

"I'm guessing the rest of the album is gonna be a big surprise then?"

Axl grunted and felt his hot seed spurt out of his length into Roxi's milking hole. "Uh huh. Top secret. Classified."

Roxanne pulled her lips away with a popping sound, not loud enough for Howard to notice.

Howard understood and decided it was time to wrap the interview. He knew Axl wouldn't tell him anymore details and it'd be a waste of time to try and coax it out of him. The two men had enough fun for one day. Maybe next time he’ll try again. “Alright, man. Hey, listen, it was great talking to you and I hope we can do this again sometime."

Axl rolled his eyes, trying his best to fake a genuine impression through gritted teeth. "Yeah, man. Sounds great."

"Tell Roxi I hope to see her again soon."

"She won't be here the next time you call."

Howard paused. Did this manic rockstar catch a glimpse of the future just now? “Really? How can you be so sure?" He queried.

"Because...I just know." After announcing his final words, Axl hung up the phone, and turned his attention towards his lover. "Thank you, baby. You did good."

Roxanne sat on her haunches, staring at her King. "Why won't I be able to talk to Howard again?" She asked curiously. She didn't mind not speaking to him, the interview was awkward enough for her. She hated how Howard put her on the spot in front of millions of listeners. But she also wanted to know the reasoning behind it. If her was willing to tell her.

Axl hummed, using his thumb to swipe a droplet of cum from her lower lip. "Because…that's not how it works."

Taglist:

Side-note: if anybody else wants to be added on my taglist for certain eras/characters, let me know!

[homiesexual-or-homosexual]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: Eddie lore, you get bullied (sorry), protective Eddie, some petnames, Hellfire teases Eddie and you, sorry for any typos :]

Genre: some angst, fluff

———

A newly 13 year old boy. His mom is dead and his dad was in prison, again. The only thing the boy has left is a small ring with a soft, oval shaped emerald in the middle and mid-back length, curly, matted hair. Well maybe not the matted hair anymore. His uncle, who’d he’d been placed with only yesterday, had sat him in a metal chair outside the trailer and buzzed his hair down to a thick stubble. The boy cried silently, looking down into his lap as he messed with the ring. But once the buzzing stopped, the boy’s uncle crouched down in front of him, wiped his eyes clear of tears, rubbed his scratchy head, and mumbled a “look, we match now.”

All before the first day of 7th grade.

And on that day of 7th grade, Eddie had a girl in his home room. A shy thing with a couple missing teeth (baby teeth, mind you), and short, boyish hair. Rumors started up almost immediately, about him and the girl. Eddie learned that her parents left her with her grandma before driving off to who knows where. And despite not knowing a single thing about each other, the two new kids seems to drift towards each other throughout the whole day.

About half way through 7th grade, Eddie had made it known to the students body that he would not tolerate bullying of those he endeared, whether Eddie realized whether he cared for that person or not. A couple of the more “popular” kids had begun to pick on your quiet, shy self. It started off as pokes and jabs, supposed playful exchanges in the girls’ bathroom, and whispers in the classrooms that weren’t quiet enough to be actually whispers. But the last straw was when one of the “leaders” had tripped you as you walked to your table in the cafeteria. They’d tripped your just perfect to where you slammed your frontal lobe against a nearby table and blood spewed from both your nostrils, and you fled blindly out the doors. Eddie followed the spaced out drips of blood against the cheap tile to a less popular wing of the school and into one of the bathrooms that no one uses anymore. He found you sitting against the wall in the larger stall, thin toilet paper stuffed up your nostrils, hands shaking, and shoulders shuddering with choked-up cries. Eddie was gentle, hands wiping your bloodied ones down with wet paper towels, and soft fingers wiping away your tears. Later that day before walking home, Eddie hunted down the guy that tripped you and took out his young, rightly earned anger out on the guy. It earned him a black eye and split knuckles, but the other guy looked much worse.

From then on, Eddie kept you under his wing. Joining you on activities when you didn’t have a partner or sitting next to you in classes and “distracting” you when the whispering got to you a little more than it usually did. He’d bark back at bullies in the hallways and even the bullies felt even a little brave, Eddie would send them off with a bite at the end of the day.

The bullies seems to back off a bit at the beginning of freshmen year when Eddie finally grew into his limbs. He was taller now, muscles highlighting his body from helping his uncle out around the house. His hair was also longer now, just barely brushing his shoulders, curly and wild. Eddie also seemed a little more intimidating on the days when he wore the leather jacket his uncle gifted him as a congratulations present for starting high school.

Classmates learned not to even look at you the wrong way when Eddie was around. The scar on his chin and the permanent rosiness of his knuckles showed the consequences of a cruel whisper.

The bullying didn’t stop for Eddie though. They seemed the build up when he joined the school’s dungeons and dragons club, held two times a week in the basement in the abandoned theatre room. Especially when he wore the custom “Hellfire Club” shirts.

The summer between freshmen and sophomore year, Eddie had joined Corroded Coffin, mastering solos of popular metal bands and writing a few songs of their own. And because Eddie’s uncle was a bit tight on money that summer, Eddie had started dealing weed to classmates and upper classmen who were interested. And that’s when the bullying started up during the summertime as well, rumoring that Eddie was a low-life stoner that would go nowhere in life, or that when you go missing no one will be surprised that you’ll be found tied and bleeding in some sort of satanic ritual.

So, the poking and prodding was only worse during sophomore year. Extending into lunch and on both yours and Eddie’s lockers. But Eddie’s outbursts didn’t start until a few weeks into junior year. Shouting at those who picked on his friends and getting into a few fights when things got a little too heated.

Eddie lost it when you were hurt though, physically that was. He found you hiding in a dark corner in the Hellfire room, nose bleeding and eye bruised. It was scary when he asked who it was, and you followed him like a scared baby deer followed it’s mom. And it was scary when Eddie shoved the jock against the hallway lockers, growling out that Eddie would kill him if he ever laid a hand on you again. The jock retaliated with a punch to Eddie’s face, causing his nose to bleed and you could tell by his squinting eye that it would be bruised as well. And Eddie, ever the dirty fighter when angry, only grabbed hair and shoved the jock to the ground to serve a few kicks to his gut before walking away with you under his arm to go get cleaned up. And when you were both cleaned up and your black eyes begun to settle in, Eddie smiled at you and said “Look, princess, we match.”

Eddie seemed to hover even more after that, behind you like a shadow. Even more so when he started to drive, legally. Taking you to and fro school, and occasionally when school got a little too much you’d hang out in the back of Eddie’s run down van and talk. And when the occasional stoner client came to Eddie’s driver window, Eddie only shooed them away, his attention back on you in record time.

The touchiness started in senior year though. Hand holding, touches of the lower back or even the waist. Wiping something from your face if need be. Hand on your thigh at any time of day. Sitting in Eddie’s lap because he dragged you in to sit on his thighs. Or even, cuddling. Whether that be in his van or over at each other’s houses, which often resulted in one, or both, of you taking a nap. Which even resulted in sleepovers when Eddie’s Uncle Wayne and your grandma began to trust you both to not get down to any “funny business.”

Hellfire made fun of Eddie, all in good humor. Asking him when he’s gonna ask you out, or if you two are dating yet. Sometimes if they’re feeling peckish for a reaction, the boys would even ask when the wedding was, causing Eddie to sputter and you to hide behind the tall boy.

[nikalaeva]

Of all the ACOTAR books ACOSF is my favorite. This book is a triumph of blatant abuse of plot, characters, and readers' brains. No, no, you read that right, I LOVE this book. Because I die laughing when SJM fans perform such mental gymnastics to justify the behavior of their favorites (I think you know who I mean).

We all understand why SJM made Feyre pregnant. And the fact that Rhysand didn't tell her truth about true danger of childbirth has also been discussed a hundred times. I'm curious about something else.

Feyre didn't think to ask Rhysand if the baby would have wings? Not necessarily in context of pregnancy and childbirth, but just for interest, 'cause she got her wings from shapeshifting and Rhys is a half-breed. Okay, Feyre's frontal lobe isn't fully formed (and probably never will 🤔), but she had enough brains to destroy the Spring Court, and this is clearly more difficult than just thinking, especially after meetings with Bone Carver.

"Hey, Rhys, I'm was ⭐️ Made ⭐️ and got so many different magic powers, including Illyrian form, you remember, right? And you're were born half Illyrian, half High Fae, 💪 most powerful High Lord 💪. There's probably never been a couple like us in Prythian history. What our children will be like? They won't be born, you know, mutants with four wings, one pointy ear, gills, scales or tail, fire-breathing, the color of the Cauldron's shit?"

No?

Or did Rhysand not think to ask Madja, Tesan, Helion, Miriam and Drakon BEFORE having unprotected sex? So he trusts Feyre to decide when to have a baby, but after she got pregnant - sorry, Feyre, darling, it's too difficult for you 🤷‍♂️. After the Middengard Worm, Amarantha, your UTM shit, DEATH, transformation into another creature, the Court of Nightmares, the Prison, war with Hybern - yeah, she definitely won't be able to handle the truth.

They had time to fuck so many times that Feyre got pregnant almost instantly. Spend a few minutes during the break or after your wild sex-marathons and talk about THE LIFE AND HEALTH OF THE MOTHER AND CHILD. But it's "just a fantasy, they're not real", you know 😉

[usedtobecooler]

i need king steve fucking plus size!reader in the bathroom at a party and forcing her to watch herself in the mirror

i'm normal i'm normal i'm normalllllll

pairing | steve harrington x plus size fem!reader

warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex, intoxicated sex, squirting, hair pulling, steve is handsy, rough and a little bitchy

word count | 1.5k

a/n | i have literally no excuse for how filthy this is i'm so sorry (i'm not)

His large hands engulf your waist, making you feel small as he presses you up against the porcelain sink, his chest pushed up tightly against your back and the thick outline of his cock prodding into the fat of your ass.

You're trapped, soft curve of your belly squishing into the sink, one of Steve's hands wandering from your waist to dip beneath the short hem of your skirt, fingertips skimming your inner thigh until your legs fall open for him. He's done this before, that much is obvious — from how comfortable he is pressing you into this position, to how his spit-slick lips mouth at the shell of your ear, whiskey laced breath hitting the soft skin.

You whine quietly when the pads of Steve's fingers slide over the damp material of your panties, pressing down onto your clothed clit until you're arching into him, curve of your ass pushing back onto his cock until he's grunting in your ear, the sound heavenly, your cunt fluttering.

"You're soaked," Steve comments, the grin spreading across his lips when you keen into him, hips bucking into his hand. Your own hands come out to brace yourself on the sink, nails biting into the hardened material as you sag back against him, leaving yourself pliant and open for his wandering hands.

Nervous butterflies flutter in your belly as Steve dips his fingers into your panties, two expert fingers sliding through the wet mess of your pussy, getting the digits nice and wet before he sinks them both in at the same time, crooking them forward into your frontal wall until you're gasping.

"Feels good, right?" Steve mutters, planting a kiss just below your ear lobe, lips running over your flushed skin as he begins working his fingers in and out of your needy cunt. You open up for him so easily, body loose and pliant under his grip as he fucks you on his fingers, kissing and biting at your skin until it's raised and raw.

"Mmph," You mumble, nodding your head in agreement — it's embarrassing how quickly you melt into him, letting him grip and manhandle your body as he fucks you languidly with his long fingers, curling and pressing them into that one spot until your vision blurs at the edges.

His other hand wanders up, up, up — fingers dipping into the low cut neck of your shirt, pulling the loose material until your tits fall out, nipples hardening in the cool air of the room. You cry out as soft fingertips run over your nipple, heightening the pleasure of his fingers working in and out of your cunt.

"You're perfect," Steve mutters, kissing sloppily up the side of your neck as he toys with your body, thumb running over the hardened nub of your clit and shocking a cry of his name from your lips, "say my name again, you sound too fuckin' pretty."

"Steve," you squeal, fingers whitening on the hard surface of the sink, a warmth spreading throughout your lower belly as he works you towards the edge — using every inch of your body, "I'm gonna —"

"That's it, cum for me, baby." Steve's all but cackling as your mouth falls open in an almost silent moan, thighs quivering and stomach tensing up as your orgasm hits you like a freight train — you feel yourself gushing wet all over his fingers, soaking him down to the wrist as he continues fucking you through it, leaving you dizzy and overstimulated.

"Too much, God, Steve," You cry, your own hand leaves the sink to grip at his wrist, fingernails clawing at his tan skin. You can't tell if you're trying to keep him there or push him away, though he doesn't let up pressing his fingers into your frontal wall until your cunt gushes for him again, an animalistic noise tearing from your throat as he pulls another orgasm from you. It's not enough to drown out the sounds of your release dripping onto the floor, pooling at your feet on the tile.

"Just wanted to make sure you were ready to take me that's all, honey," He comments, that stupid smirk on his face as he catches your eyes through the reflection in the mirror, his fingers deftly slipping from you, "I've been told I'm a bit of a stretch."

He bends you back over the sink, arching your back and flipping your skirt up. You're still tipsy, pussy fluttering and clenching as you wait in anticipation for the breach of his cock. You watch your own reflection briefly in the mirror, cringe at the flushed state of your face, before dipping your head again.

Steve shuffles around behind you, your ears pricking up at the sound of his belt unbuckling, the rustling of his Levi's being pushed down his thighs. He sighs quietly, jerking his cock a few times for a little relief before lining himself up, smearing the fat head into the wet mess you left.

The head of his cock catching on your puffy cunt shocks you, a loud gasp escaping you — he felt big.

"Holy shit," Your breath is knocked from your lungs when the first few inches slide into your pussy, your walls pulsing around him as you struggle to adjust. His fingertips dig into the meat of your ass when you attempt to wiggle your hips, a warning to stop.

"Still so fucking tight around my dick, fuck," Steve hisses, punching his hips forward until he's snug up against your ass, pushing himself so deep your eyes roll into your skull.

"Your cock is huge," You whimper, voice high pitched and wavering as your pussy clenches sporadically around him, adjusting to the sheer size of him. No amount of prep could've gotten you ready enough for him.

"I know." Steve's voice is smug as he grins, pulling out halfway and pushing back in just as quickly, choking a cry from you in return.

His rhythm is brutal from the get go, an evident sign of how desperate he was to blow his load, heavy balls slapping against your soaked cunt with every thrust. Your head hangs low, blurry eyes squeezing shut as you let him use you — he's so thick that the pressure on your g-spot is relentless, has you gushing even wetter for him.

Long fingers run into your scalp, gripping a handful of your hair to snap your head up, pulling sharply on the crown until you're gasping, "Watch yourself, watch me fuck you." Steve demands.

You open your eyes, catching his own hard ones watching you already through the mirror. You're — well you're a fucking mess. Shining with sweat, cheeks burning hot, mouth hung open. You're covered in bruises and bite marks, all the way down to your tits that bounce with every sharp punch of Steve's hips, nipples pebbled and aching to be touched.

"You look so fucking hot," Steve groans, shoving into you deeper for emphasis, forcing a cry from your lips, "All wrecked on my cock, baby. Like a fuckin' wet dream."

Your cheeks flush even hotter at his words, though your cunt clenches, hips pushing back onto him in response to his filthy mouth.

Steve chokes on a groan, digs his fingers into your waist, "Should see how good you're taking me, honey. Your pussy loves me."

"S'all yours," You whimper, a loud moan ripping from you when he pulls your hair tighter at that, thrusting into you and rolling his hips. The head of his cock presses so deep you swear you feel him in your guts, every ridge and vein prominent.

Your eyes catch his once more through your reflection — his eyelids half-hooded, lips parted in an almost constant string of grunts and groans. The noises do it for you, every single one shooting straight to your core.

"I'm gonna cum, need you to cum first, yeah?" Steve groans, hips pistoning into you as he chases his high, the loud clapping of your wet skin increasing tenfold, "Can I cum in you? Y'gonna let me fill this pussy and claim it? Please?"

"Ohmygod," You whine, eyes squeezing shut as the coil in your tummy snaps, your pussy pulsing and squeezing around Steve as you come, body vibrating with it. The white hot heat coursing through your veins, orgasm ripping through your entire body.

Steve chokes on a groan, pulling your hair even tighter and snapping your neck back, "Oh fuck, you're so fucking tight," he literally whines, and in your hazy state you push your hips back in retaliation, pushing him even deeper, "that's it honey, fuck, fuuuuck—!"

His cock pulses in you when he comes, hot spurts painting your insides as you mewl, whimpering quietly when he grips onto your waist to steady himself. It feels like he comes for ages, filling you up until you feel it drooling from your cunt.

Your body basically goes limp when his fingers stop gripping your hair, instead soothing your stinging scalp. His other hand rubs up your side, fingertips pressing into squishy skin until you're keening into it.

There's momentary silence, until a deep chuckle rumbles from Steve's chest, his spent cock slipping from you and eliciting a pretty gasp from his lips, "You've made quite the mess, honey."

[logansgaar]

if Bucky's arm didn't grow back after it suffered catastrophic damage then why the hell do fans really, honestly expect his brain to be able to? Both were damaged after he got the serum, it's a canonical fact that the super soldier serum can only heal so much, they're not like Wolverine, or even Peter for that matter; they heal faster not more profoundly

Bucky can get the best mental health therapy in the world for the rest of his life but some things aren't solely the result of PTSD or other mental illnesses, a fair chunk of what he does is straight up physical brain damage that, judging by the fact he's still missing an arm, will never change. He displays symptoms of cognitive disinhibition several times, which makes a lot of sense, bros frontal lobe is physically not able to properly communicate with the rest of his brain anymore

This isn't an invitation to baby him or act like he needs someone to be his minder, it's just me being amazed that people seem to think it's solely psychological harm he's recovering from or that his only disability is being an amputee, when he almost guaranteed also has a cognitive disability now