#john bender smut

[multifandomfanfic]

can you do a John Bender smut where when he does his line “lets all play impregnate the prom queen” the reader agrees but only with Bender and they fuck somewhere in the school. thank youu

Prom, 1984

Pairing: John Bender x fem! Reader

Warnings: cheating, smut, language, pet names, choking, overstimulation, unprotected sex, fingering, rings

Word Count: 3k

Request?: Yes!

“Let’s all play impregnate the prom queen!”

This was my life, constantly being harassed by John Bender, the school's "bad boy." Although the term "bad boy" does not adequately describe him. In reality, he was just a sad kid who felt compelled to criticize others in order to feel better about his own miserable life.

"Oh, shut up Bender. You’d never get the privilege of fucking me.”

“Ohhhh little prissy lady is getting sassy with me now?”

When I noticed he was rising from his seat on the bleachers, I turned on my heels and prepared to sprint away from this uncomfortable circumstance.

“Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you’re going?”

He asked, leaping forward to grab my elbow and spin me around. The momentum he gave my body was enough to propel me into a quick spin until I was full frontal directly in front of him, our chests inches away from touching.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

My nervous grip was crushing the bouquet of flowers I'd received for being named prom queen, the paper crinkling as I continued to apply pressure.

“Bender, I need to get home! I really don’t have time for your shenanigans!”

I tried to come across as confident and tough, hoping he'd feel sorry for me and release his death grip on my wrist.

“Oh come on sweetheart, chill out and stay a while, won’t ya?”

He didn't have a particularly stern expression, nor did he have a particularly harsh tone. His gaze was soft and his tone was neutral, as if he were behaving in the likeness of a skilled manipulator. His entire demeanor, on the other hand, had a hard edge to it.

“Bender, please let go of me before my boyfriend comes over here and beats your ass.”

I hissed through my teeth. I knew I wasn't strong enough to take him on by myself. Adding a second, far more powerful person to the conversation might make him feel threatened.

Bender scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes nonchalantly.

“You really think bringing your prim little boy toy into the conversation is gonna scare me?”

I have to admit, I was hoping it would frighten him just enough for him to leave me alone.

Despite the fact that prom had ended twenty minutes ago, the seniors were still buzzing, unwilling to end a night they would undoubtedly remember for the rest of their lives.

“Bender, please! I’ve tried to be nice to you, but this is really starting to annoy me!”

Bender rolled his eyes all the way around his head, scoffing loudly enough for everyone to hear if there weren't two hundred people crammed into one gymnasium.

“You’re not nice to me, Y/N. You’ve never been nice to me.”

His tone had shifted from male manipulator to ferocious. I'd finally pushed him over the edge and penetrated his tough exterior.

“You’re a fucking prissy little bitch who gets everything handed to her.”

I couldn't help but recoil in response to the venom dripping from his lips. Someone, please, come to my rescue.

“Personally, I think you should be taught a lesson.”

My breath became stuck in my throat. Oh, my God, I'd gotten myself into a lot of trouble.

Bender cocked his brow in response to my anxiety when he spotted my apprehensive countenance.

“Oh, come on sweetheart. Don’t try to lie to me and say you’ve never thought about it before.”

His tone had changed to one that was oozing with lust, a dramatic contrast to the raging wrath he had been exhibiting only moments before.

He leaned into me, his mouth directly next to my ear, so he could be heard clearly.

“I know you have, sweetheart, you don’t have to stand there and lie to me.”

I swallowed, my throat constricting.

“You’re so uptight all the fucking time. Wouldn’t it be nice to sit back and let me ruin you?”

Yes, it would certainly be nice. It would be nice to slap my parents across the face when they saw me coming home with a man who is notoriously unstable.

“I bet you’d like to walk up that pretty little porch you have with me on your arm.”

My God, he read my mind.

“I bet that’d realllyyyy slap your parents in the face.”

His hot breath sent chills down my spine, his body so close to mine that the large bouquet of flowers between us was becoming completely crushed.

“Just say the word sweetheart and I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget all about your pussy boyfriend.”

I was terrified that my boyfriend would appear at any moment, ending the moment that I wanted to prolong as long as possible.

“Come on honey, I can’t wait around all day, my cock is getting hard just thinking about being buried inside your pretty little cunt.”

I couldn’t deny the appeal of having passionate sex with the most notorious boy at Glenbrook North High School.

“John… you can’t tell my boyfriend.”

My tone came across as much more breathy and desperate than I had expected. This sparked a fiery passion in John, who thrived on making others squirm.

“Don’t worry honey, it stays between me and you until you gain the courage to kick that sorry sack of shit to the curb.”

Bender stepped back until he was at the right angle to stare down at me with his piercing brown eyes. His demeanor was crushing, and I suddenly felt weak in his presence.

“Storage closet? Bathroom? Just tell me where you want me honey and I’ll make it happen.”

I looked over both my shoulders, ensuring my boyfriend was nowhere in sight.

“People might find us in the bathroom. Storage closet is probably a better option.”

John smirked, the bright strobe lights reflecting off his tan skin.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

John dragged me through the thin crowds. Fortunately, we were positioned near the back of the gymnasium, where only nerds and girls who thought they were too cool for school congregated.

We made it to the storage closet without any chaperones bothering us with irrelevant questions or my boyfriend rudely interrupting us.

There was no need to waste money on lights that were completely unnecessary, so the halls were left completely dark.

“Is it time to play impregnate the prom queen?”

He inquired, gently pushing the door open, the squeaky hinges groaning from inactivity.

“Yes.”

I spoke softly, my knees trembling with excitement.

John took a step back until he was completely immersed in the shadow of the storage room, giving him a mysterious appearance. He extended his arm in front of him, exposing his open palm for my grasp.

My stomach flipped, every nerve ending tingling with eagerness.

I took a big step forward, extending my arm and pressing my palm against his.

John tugged me forward and my breath was knocked from my lungs as I collided with his solid chest.

He slammed his mouth into mine, kicking the door shut and submerging us in complete darkness.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as his tongue pushed past my teeth.

Our teeth were clashing in a frenzied mess of hot, passionate kisses that went straight to my core, arousal pooling in between my thighs.

John grasped the hem of my dress, thrusting it upwards to expose my white lace panties.

John began walking forward, bringing me with him until my back collided with the rickety shelves that housed the dozens of random books the school kept “just in case.”

John kicked my knees apart, standing on one leg with incredible balance as he ground his knee into my clothed cunt.

I moaned against his gloriously plush lips as I ground my hips against the scratchy fabric of his jeans.

Only John Bender would wear jeans to senior prom.

He utilized the harsh grip on my hips to move me back and forth against his clothed thigh.

“Wow. You’ve got panties on and your still making a mess on my thigh.”

His deep, sultry tone sent another wave of arousal directly to my cunt, adding to the growing ache building in between my legs.

Grinding on top of his clothed thigh provided an intense amount of pleasure, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the growing desire building rapidly inside my lower abdomen.

I wrapped a hand around one of John’s wrists, bringing it forward until his calloused fingertips brushed against my swollen clit.

I groaned, his mouth swallowing my noises as I manipulated his hand into doing my bidding. His fingers continued to brush against my clothed clit, eliciting gentle moans from the back of my throat.

I gasped as John suddenly took control, pushing my panties to the side and shoving two fingers inside my dripping heat.

My grasp on his wrist became tighter, my nails digging into his tendons as he brutally thrusted his long digits against my spongy walls at a pace that would have me cumming around his fingers in mere seconds if I didn’t try to control myself.

“John I-I… I’m gonna cum.”

John breathed into my ear, his exhale ragged as he struggled to maintain his confident exterior.

“You can cum baby, I won’t stop you.”

My knuckles turned white as my grasp on his wrist became strong enough to restrict blood flow to his fingers.

My orgasm hit me like a freight train, my mind rocketing into a state of euphoria as I gasped in pleasure against John’s hot body, my back arching into his chest.

I assumed the continuing assault on my cunt was to allow me to come down from my wonderful high.

However, I realized I was wrong when his fingers sped up the pace, sending my nerves into a sudden state of shock.

“John.”

I murmured weakly against his lips. He pressed himself against me once more until I was sandwiched in between the shelves and him. I had nowhere to move, nowhere to go, nothing to do but to take the overstimulation he was giving me.

“Oh baby, you didn’t think I’d be that easy on you, did you now?”

I released my grip on his wrist, flailing my arms behind me to hopefully gain some form of leverage. I held onto one of the metal shelves, my grasp quickly turning into a white knuckled death grip as my body begged for mercy.

“John please-“

“You can take it. I know you're hungry for another orgasm and I intend to give you just what you ask for.”

I opened my mouth to beg for pity once more, but his free hand found my neck, his cold rings digging into the sides of my neck and restricting my air flow.

I never thought the idea of choking would turn me on, but, the lack of air I experienced thanks to his ring clad hand sent me into a state of intense nirvana. The sensation only added to the orgasm that was now building once more in the fiery pits of my stomach.

I kept my eyes fixed on his gaze, watching him intently as he released the grip on my neck before tightening his hand once more, cutting off just enough air to make me dizzy.

“Are you gonna cum again sweetheart?”

I tried to speak, but the cool rings on his hand distracted me. John smirked, pleased with the effect he had on me.

“You don’t have to answer that. I know your body is begging for me to let you cum all over my fingers again.”

My knees began to shake, black spots clouded my vision as my eyes begged John for his permission to cum.

“You can cum baby girl. I know your pussy is aching for my cock and frankly I’m throbbing at the thought of being inside of you. So let’s hurry this up, shall we?”

I nodded slightly in confirmation that I was on board with his plan.

“Good.”

He said, his husky tone dropping another octave.

He gave one final thrust of his digits to my spongy walls, sending me toppling over the edge into an overwhelming state of euphoria.

This orgasm hit me ten times harder than the last, and my insides were trembling as my body begged me to not take anymore.

But my mind thought differently. My mind wanted more of him. My mind wanted all of him, every last inch.

John dropped his hand to his side, released his grasp on my neck.

He chuckled, staring at my throat.

“I never thought a pretty little girl like you would enjoy being choked.”

I chuckled through strangled, desperate gasps for air.

“I didn’t think so either.”

I said, a wide smile on my face as I laughed at the newly awakened kink.

John shook his head slowly from side to side, trapping his bottom lip under his top teeth.

“I’m gonna wipe that smile right off your pretty little face.”

He dragged his thumb along my bottom lip, wiping off the saliva he left off my plush mouth.

“Turn around.”

I gulped.

“I’m not gonna ask you again sweetheart. Turn around or I won’t be so nice.”

I wanted to utter a witty comeback. But I knew that would do no good in this situation. The only way out was to sit back and take whatever he gave me.

Which, to be honest, I wasn’t mad about. I’d take whatever he gave me with a big smile on my face as I was far too aroused to care.

I turned around quickly, bracing myself by pushing the books out of the way and placing both my hands on a metal shelf.

John took his time. I wasn’t sure if he was staring at me, daydreaming, or contemplating his next move. Whatever it was doing, he was dead silent, not uttering a word as to prepare me for what was to come next.

I didn’t dare look back at him. I kept my gaze forward, my heart racing in anticipation.

Then, I felt his hands on my hips, gently pushing my panties down until they fell to the floor, pooling around my ankles. My soaking wet cunt was exposed, a light breeze brushing against it which sent a chill up my spine.

“You have such a pretty pussy babygirl. I bet your prissy little boyfriend doesn’t play with it very often now does he?”

I swallowed.

“No, he doesn’t.”

I wondered if he even heard me. My voice was far too weak and incoherent.

A soft smack erupted throughout the quiet storage room. I could only assume the noise came from his jeans hitting the floor.

John leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back.

“That’s a shame.”

He said, dragging the tip of his cock through my soaking wet folds.

I shuddered, goosebumps erupting all over my skin.

“If this pussy belonged to me I’d play with it all the fucking time.”

He pushed himself into me. I gasped and threw my head back against his shoulder as his thick cock stretched me to the brim.

“John, oh my god you’re so fucking big.”

If he was any bigger he’d rip me in two.

John chuckled.

“Did you have any doubts?”

He asked, beginning an agonizingly slow pace, which did nothing to diminish the aching in my cunt.

His hands rested lazily on my hips, his cock moving slowly inside of me. He was in no rush. He behaved as if we had all the time in the world.

“John, please. I’m aching for you.”

“Well… since you asked so nicely.”

I felt John’s weight lift from my back. He stood at his full height, digging his nails into the plump flesh of my hips as he began a brutal attack on my pussy.

Tears of pleasure began to form in the corners of my eyes as John snapped his hips forward, a loud smacking sound erupting from the wet connection between us.

“I bet your little boyfriend doesn’t fuck you like this now, does he?”

John’s sulky tone was dripping with lust. He was in his element, obviously very familiar with situations similar to this.

“No. No, he doesn’t.”

My nails gritted against the hard metal of the shelf, a sound similar to nails on a chalkboard.

I squeezed my eyes shut as his thick cock began to throb inside of me.

“John… can you go any deeper?”

“Yes.”

John began pulling my hips backwards to meet his thrusts, the plump tip of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of me with every intense thrust.

“Oh… oh my god yes, that’s perfect.”

I threw my head back in pleasure, giving John the perfect angle to snake his hand around my body and find its place around my neck.

I gasped as his grip tightened, constricting my airway.

“Ohhh. You’re so fucking tight.”

I could feel our combined wetness dripping down the insides of my thighs.

“John…”

The coil in my lower abdomen was incredibly tight, any sudden movement could cause it to snap.

“I’m gonna cum.”

His cock was now violently twitching inside of me.

“Me too sweetheart. I’m gonna cum right in your pretty little pussy.”

I gulped as he released inside of me, his hot cum coating my walls.

I followed right behind him, my cunt milking the last of his juices as my entire body convulsed.

I cried out his name like a prayer as my lower belly suddenly felt loose, a stark contrast from the tightness I experienced moments ago.

John gave a few final thrusts, ensuring every drop of his cum was left inside of me.

“Now.”

He said, pulling out of me.

“Go tell your fucking boyfriend you never wanna see him again.”

I turned over my shoulder, seeing him shoving his thick cock back in his jeans, his eyes focused on the task at hand.

Our combined juices were now dripping down my thighs uncontrollably.

“Then I want you to meet me back here as soon as you can.”

I furrowed my brow.

“Why?”

I asked. John scoffed, resting his hands on his hips in a rather cocky manner.

“Princess, do I really need to explain myself?”

#fanfic #imagine #x reader #x y/n #x yn #fanfiction #john bender smut #breakfast club masterlist #the breakfast club fanfic #the breakfast club smut #breakfast club #the breakfast club #judd nelson #john bender #John Bender x reader #1980s fashion #1980s nostalgia #vintage 1980s #1980s icons #1980s style #1980s movies #1980s television #the brat pack #molly ringwald #emilio estevez #rob lowe #x you smut #smut imagine #x fem!reader #x female reader

[rwprincess]

Stacked (BenderxFem!Reader --Smut--)

Masterlist

Word Count: 4.2k

Synopsis: A good girl has gone bad for Bender. BenderxFem!Reader smut, in the library, as the only two in detention.

CW: No plot, only smut; semi-public sex (p in v with condom); virgin!reader; fingering (f receiving); some breast play; pet names: honey, good girl, baby, sweetheart, sweets; mild degredation (verbal); weed mention

You probably would have categorized yourself as a ‘good girl’ before that fateful Saturday of March 24th, albeit one who slipped up just enough to land yourself in that Saturday Detention in the first place. You had made it through most of your high school career without feigning illness to stay home or cutting class, but oh no, the one time you decided to skip was the time you would get caught. It felt like the universe was conspiring against you when Vernon caught you and your two friends sneaking back onto campus through one of the back doors in the East Wing. It was like he knew you had all gone out and was just waiting for you to come crawling back. You immediately lamented to yourself that you should have never let your friends convince you to play hooky, that your life would be over and you’d be suspended for sure. You consider yourself lucky to have only earned Saturday school and had arrived that morning ready to pay your penance and return to your title of ‘good girl.’ That is, until you met John Bender. Since then, you tried everything in your power to toe the line to get as many Saturday Detention slips as possible, knowing he’d be there.

There was just something about him that drew you in, like a spell had been cast over you or something. You knew you should have been disgusted and horrified by the things he said to Claire, but your instinctive side made you feel prickly and hot instead as he questioned her, “Have you ever been felt up? Over the bra, under the blouse, your shoes off, hoping to God your parents don’t walk in?” Your brain took it as more of a suggestion and you immediately imagined Bender doing just that to you, while you’d card your hands through his long, soft brown hair. You were sure your breath audibly hitched but he didn’t seem to notice, his predatory stare locked on Claire as she swallowed hard and answered, “Do you want me to puke?” Of course, she hid her desire better than you did. Or at least, outwardly protested. But that didn’t stop her from getting to Bender by the end of the day and you had never felt the fiery jealousy that broiled in the pit of your stomach until you saw her kiss him and hand him one of her earrings.

There was just something about him, the way he spoke terrible, filthy things, yet it was coupled with a sweet vulnerable side that you couldn’t resist. You kept your distance at first, flippantly dismissing it as a whirlwind crush…at least for that week or so that he was ‘dating’ Claire. It didn’t take long before that fizzled out, though, and your pangs for Bender came back full-force. It was easy to make it seem like a coincidence those first few Saturdays, “Oh, God, I can’t believe Vernon found me cutting class again,” you’d lie. But John was always one step ahead in reading people and figured you out soon enough.

“You again?” He smirked, walking into the library on one warm April Saturday.

“What can I say? I’m spiraling out of control.” You grinned in response, delighted by his attention…and the fact that it seemed to be just you two this time.

“Mhmm. What are you in for this time?” He questioned, making himself comfortable in his seat next to you at his table. You knew where he always sat and maybe just happened to choose the chair next to his, incidentally, of course.

“Smoking.” You say quickly, quietly. Which spoke volumes to your desire to come here, to see him and spend another weekend with him.

“I’ll say.” He eyed you up and down, making your cheeks turn red before you were interrupted by Vernon coming to berate the two of you. Of course, this was one of John’s pre-assigned detentions from when you first met him. Which retort had earned him this one? ‘Oh, I’m crushed’ or maybe ‘Not even close, bud!’, you wondered while biting back a smile at the memory. You loved the way he stood up to Vernon. It had concerned you a bit at the time, as both escalated and became louder, but it also thrilled you to see him question Vernon’s overinflated sense of authority.

“This should not be your role model, Y/N,” Vernon started to come to a close, indicating John, “If you don’t clean up your act, you’ll just be a female Bender.” 

You scoffed in response, “Promise?” You raised a challenging eyebrow and heard Bender snort, only encouraging you more. 

“Watch it, missy.” He addressed you again, slapping down a worksheet that all of you knew wouldn’t get done, but at least he seemed to have learned his lesson with the ‘essays’ after Brian told him where to shove it, courtesy of The Breakfast Club. He exited in a huff and Bender turned toward you.

“You know, he’s right,” he tutted, clicking his tongue in mock-disapproval, “you’re really going to the dark side. Skipping class and now smoking? I don’t know what to do with ya, kid.”   ‘I have some ideas,’ you thought, silently, while eyeing him. “Tell me, did you just have enough of being perfect all the time, or are you just here to see me?” He grinned deviously, trying to tease you, to get a rise out of you. However, he didn’t know that you were committed to the idea of being with him, to putting all the worry and shame behind you. You’d spent enough time here to repel the shackles of conformity and caring, you were ready to flirt shamelessly and see where that led you.

“Little bit of column A, a little from column B,” you admitted, taking pride in the resulting flustered expression from Bender. It was clear he didn’t expect this change from you. While he sat gaping at you like a fish, you stood up and confidently strode away, knowing Vernon wouldn’t be back unless there was some type of commotion. You sat down, leaning against a shelf of books knowing that Bender would eventually come to you and smirked at the thought.

It didn't take long for your plan to have the desired effect: Bender couldn't resist having attention and someone to talk to, after all. What was he going to do, his assignment? No, you knew he wouldn't let Vernon win. He tried to seem nonchalant about it, as if he were just coming over and actually selecting a book and oh my, you just happened to be here! You half-smirked in victory as he took a seat on the floor next to you.

“So what, pray tell, has brought you here today? I mean, I know the literal cause is for smoking, but I want to know the psychology of it. What made Shermer High’s resident good-girl go down this dark path? How did you,of all people, decide to go bad?” He asked, lowering his voice to a husky tone that left an inching heat between your thighs.

“Hmmm,” you hummed lightly in response, his eyes snapping up to your face while they had previously drifted down. “It’s kind of a secret. Do you want to know?” you lowered your tone conspiratorially, then leaned in towards him after he nodded. Your whispering breath tickled the shell of his ear as you admitted, “You. You are what changed and why I’m here today.” You pulled back and gave him a sickly sweet smile, amused by his responsive gulp.

“Was being innocent always an act, then? You seem like you can just turn it off and on, the way you smiled just now.” 

“Hmm, no.” You giggled in response. “It’s just that…when I met you, I found out that being perfect and preppy wasn’t the only way to live. I was so nervous that first day and thought I’d ruined my life. And then I met you. You were just so cool and didn’t overly care what people think.”

“It comes at a price, you know.”

“All of your Saturdays for all eternity, apparently.” You shrugged.

“It’s more than that,” he looked down at the ground. “I’m not exactly Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky.”

“No, I know that,” you replied, “but you’re more free than anyone I know. They all have sticks up their butts.” You said and he laughed. “Plus, I’d be interested in changing that, in making you happy.” You bit your lip, looking up at him with what you hoped was a meaningful expression…that he’d take the hint. 

He seemed to understand what you were implying because his eyebrows shot up. “What--What exactly are you proposing here?” He asked, taken aback. You had seemed as inexperienced as Claire and Allison when he had met you, and he didn’t think that had changed in the last month or so…unless you were lying in the first place.

“John,” you looked at him directly in the eye as you placed a hand gently on his thigh, “that’s up to you really, isn’t it?”

“Fuck,” he whimpered, meeting your stare. He was almost afraid to make the first move, scared that you would reveal it was all a joke at his expense, that it would all end in utter humiliation. But you just batted your long, dark lashes at him and gave that thigh a gentle squeeze, causing him to throw caution to the wind. He quickly grasped your face between his hands and kissed you, roughly. You let out a light moan to encourage him, and he moved his right hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and holding you near.

His lips were surprisingly soft against yours and his years of experience showed. You instantly repaid each of his kisses with your own, leaning forward into him, and bracing one of his wrists, wrapping around it with your hand. The way your lips moved in tandem, synching with your desires and your heart beats only made this feel more right. You obliged his curious tongue as it swept along your lip, begging to explore your mouth. You parted your lips softly, your breath intermingling with Bender’s. You broke the kiss a few moments later, pulling back, out of breath. Bender began kicking himself internally, fearing that he’d crossed a line or that you would finally reveal that you were just messing with him. He looked away, dejectedly, but you didn’t let him keep the wrong idea for long. You repositioned yourself and began to climb into his lap. He whipped his head back up, brown irises and pupils growing wide at your bold stance. He certainly wasn’t expecting that. You eased yourself down, your hips resting snugly against his own, pressing your chest into his.

“You didn’t think I was done, did you?” You smirked down at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, resting them along his broad shoulders. “Honey, I think we’re just getting started.” Sure, you lacked experience, but after you drank in that first kiss, you were hooked and didn’t want to---no, couldn’t stop now. You needed more, even though you weren’t sure how far that extended yet. At this present moment, you were willing to fuck Bender in the library today, right here amongst the stacks. In fact, you were kind of hoping for it, but you didn’t wholly want to push your luck. For now, you connected your lips back to Bender’s, thrusting your tongue into his mouth, desperate for the sensation of your tongue colliding with his. The soft pinks flexed against each other as you threaded your fingers through his hair, running your nails softly along his scalp. 

Bender tried to have some restraint. It’s the thought that counts, right? He didn’t want to move too fast or make any assumptions. At first, he had his hands along your face, then arms. He pinned them next to your waist and gave tentative squeezes as you deepened your kisses, but he could only resist for so long and needed to test the waters. He slid his hands down to your butt and pulled you forward, up along his lap, just a bit. You hummed appreciatively against his lips, and he took this as a good sign. He dug his fingers into the meat of your ass, massaging the dough and muscle there. His touch made you instinctively roll your hips forward, the sharp bones digging into him and creating an aching friction. He groaned as you pulled away and started to kiss down his jaw to the tender skin of his neck. “Are you---sure---you want this?” He panted out, trying to regain his breathing from your previous kisses to his lips. You only answered with a gentle tug to his hair, pulling his head back just enough to give you more access to the crook of his neck and his collarbone. Another lust-filled groan left his lips, urging you to continue. You could feel your desire dampening your clothed core, causing you to give another roll of your hips, which in turn caused Bender to buck upwards. Combined with his tight grip on your behind, you could feel the straining bulge growing beneath you, yearning to touch you. You smirked into his neck before you pulled back, stopping all sensation. You almost could have sworn you heard him whine in protest.

“You’re surprisingly quiet,” you mused. “I thought for sure you would have a million filthy things to say.”

"Honestly, I'm still a little in shock that this is actually happening," he confided, opening up in a rare moment of vulnerability. "You have no idea how much I've thought about this. About you. I'm not convinced it isn't a dream."

"Mm. Something to pass the time in another lonely Saturday detention?" You purred in response, tightening the grasp on his shoulders.

"Yeah," he licked his lips, eyes scanning your face and lowering down your body, "something like that." 

"Don't worry, baby, it's real." You chuckled darkly, bending to kiss his neck again, "and I think I have some idea how much you've thought about this," you ground down against him, indicating your awareness of his hardness, but also added, "because I've thought about you, too. Every. Night." The implication had his mind racing and he gripped you fiercely, placing a rough kiss to your lips. 

He couldn't contain himself much longer, and wanted to oblige your fantasies as well. His hands roamed your body with intense fervor. His touches were no longer hesitant, they came to you with a needy, almost bruising force. He palmed your breasts over your shirt, before squeezing them harshly, causing you to let out a mewling whine. "Please, John. More," you panted in response. His deft hands quickly slid up your shirt, eager to please, and snaked under the silky fabric of your bra. He relished in the warm squish of your skin and plucked one of your nipples between his index and middle fingers, sliding it down into the curve between. "Yes," you whispered in a high-pitched moan, which crumbled to a deep and gravely tone as Bender's teeth sank into your neck. 

He started to unleash his other hand, trailing down your stomach to the button of your jeans. When you didn't protest, he clicked them open quietly, tugging the zipper down gently. He dipped his hand into the spot he had made available, feeling you over your panties. "Fuck, you're so wet already," he groaned against your ear.

"It's cuz I want you … s'bad." You whined in response, desperate for him to touch you, to give you some kind of relief. 

"You're sure?" He asked. He still wasn't entirely certain of your level of experience, even though you were matching him on-par at this point. He was impressed, but still wary that you would call a stop to it, or regret it later. He'd been in those situations enough times. 

"You were just commenting on how wet I am. For you," you pointed out, "please, Bender, don't be a tease." You mocked him slightly, knowing he thought all girls were teases instead. He gave you a gruff growl in response and slipped his fingers wordlessly into your underwear, using the slick from your folds to coat two of his fingers. He slid them into you, easily, causing an electric shock of desire to jolt through your whole body. It was so different from the touches you had administered to yourself while thinking of him. So much better. 

"Don't ever think that John Bender doesn't deliver, sweetheart," he grumbled against the skin of your neck, making sure he was close enough to your ear for you to hear him. Your walls instinctively clenched around him, aroused by his commentary. "Mm, you like that? You like when I call you 'sweetheart?' Or do you just like having my fingers inside you, fucking into you?" He asked, amused. You nodded quickly, which made him chuckle in return, "Well, which is it?" 

"Both." You replied, then moaned loudly as he flexed his fingers in you. 

"God, I love hearing that. Don't hold back, sweetheart. Keep moaning for me. I'll make it worth your while." He said, and you weren't sure what he meant, exactly, but you were eager to find out, so you let out another low moan to encourage him. He delighted you by adding another layer, an insistent thumb that brought circles to your clit, increasing your pleasure tenfold. 

"Mmf! Fuck!" You breathed, arching your back, pushing your hips forward into his touch. "Yes, John. Just like that. Please." 

"Mm. Where did that controlling girl go? Now you're so needy and begging for it." He smirked.

"Shh," you hushed his criticism and bent forward to kiss him hungrily, tiny breathy moans escaping from the seal of your lips as your orgasm started to build. You bucked against him, riding his hand to seek your high, hands now tangling in his hair. You pulled back to whisper, "I'm so close, John. Please. Please make me cum."

"I told you, baby. I always deliver." He quickened his motions to bring you over the edge and you called his name, feeling it echo in the otherwise silent library. He stroked you a couple more times before slowly pulling his fingers away, letting you come down. "If you think you can stand, I wanna show you even more." He raised an eyebrow at you and you nodded, complying immediately. He was right, your bold nature was gone, replaced by a submissive nature that only focused on the desire for more. You stood up quickly, awaiting directions. "Turn around and grab the shelf." He commanded, climbing to his feet, giving an amused huff of a laugh when he saw how quickly you obeyed. He rummaged around in his wallet for a moment, procuring a condom and holding it in front of your face while he stood behind you, close enough that you could feel his erection brush against your ass. "I want to fuck you. Is that alright, sweetheart?" 

"God, please, yes." You rubbed your ass against him, seeking friction and he laughed again. He tugged at your bottoms, shaking them down your thighs in preparation, then pulling his own down. You heard the rip in the foil and gulped. You were still keen to do this, you needed him inside of you, but your heart pounded in fear and you paused for a moment. "John? I've…I've never done this before. Please, take it easy on me." You confessed and felt your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. 

"Mm. With how good you've been, you could have fooled me." He mused, running a hand down your side, making you shiver. He leaned forward and you could feel his chest pressed against your back as he nudged his chin onto your shoulder. "Don't worry, sweets. I'll take good care of you." He purred back. Yours was not the first virginity that John Bender had claimed, and you were pretty presumptive of that fact. "Bend forward just a little more," he recommended, and you complied. "Good girl," he hummed, making you feel another wave of wetness flood your core. 

He grasped himself in one hand and led his controlled tip against your folds, allowing your arousal to lubricate the condom as he ran it down the shaft. "I'll go nice and slow, baby. I won't hurt you…unless you want me to." You pressed back against him, his words making you feel anguished for contact. He laughed lightly at the effect he had on you, and gently grabbed your hips to steady you. "You ready, sweets?" He asked and you nodded vigorously before feeling him enter you, stretching your walls slowly to accommodate him. It wasn't painful, but a bit uncomfortable as he inched his way in. You'd never felt so full before and it was definitely something you had to get adjusted to. He was slow and patient, as promised, letting you get used to each bit of him before adding more. "You doing alright?" He asked and you nodded. "Good, 'cuz you are so fucking tight, I wasn't sure," he growled and you instantly felt dizzy with desire. He finally had reached the hilt, having pushed all the way into you. "I'm gonna start moving. I wanna fuck you, okay, baby? You tell me if anything doesn't feel right." 

You nodded again and let out a pathetic, "Please, fuck me, John," that made him want to turn feral, but he remembered his promise. He'd take it easy on you…this time. 

He pulled back and gently reinserted himself. "You drive me fucking wild, saying shit like that. You know that?" He asked and you mewled at the feeling of him filling you back up, gripping the bookshelf just a bit tighter. "All you ever had to do was ask, sweetheart. I've been dying to fuck you six ways from Sunday since we've met. You're so, so pretty," he started to pick up the pace with his words, withdrawing and then pressing back into you, "with those big eyes and their fuck-me stare. I was hoping you wanted me. That I wasn't just imagining it. I thought, oh no, a good girl like that can't be into me. Too innocent. Too sweet. But I was wrong, wasn't I? Deep down, you're just as filthy as me. Begging to be fucked in the library? Because you have detention for smoking? My, my." There was that dirty talk you longed for. 

"Mm, yes. I wanted you so bad. From day one, John. I---" you gasped as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, "had to have you." He pulled out and plowed back in with a renewed force, spurred on by your sultry confessions. You moaned and dropped your head forward, feeling your legs beginning to quake. It was so hard to keep yourself upright while he talked to you the way he did, and while he fucked into you with unbridled desire, possibly as strong as yours. You began to see stars as he brought one of his hands around to the front, running a finger against your swollen clit. You could feel heat radiating off him as his chest pressed against your back, tightly fucking into you and keeping the perfect pressure on the sensitive bud. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, groaning his name. 

"Yes baby, take it just like that and say my name. Fuck, you feel so good."

"Jesus, Bender. You feel even better. I'm close."

"Ohh yeah, baby. Cum on me. Cum while my dick is buried deep in that tight little pussy. Make me cum for you." He grunted out between thrusts, making your head spin and your body lose control. With a final loud moan, your walls clenched around him in your release. 

"Fuck, fuck, John! S'good. Please cum for me, baby. I want you to feel good, too." You muttered, feeling nonsensical in your words, but he still responded.

"Don't worry, sweets. You're making me feel amazing. Won't be much longer, with a pussy this tight and good. I'm almost there. Hold on, hold---" he couldn't finish his thought as he reached his climax as well, digging his fingers into your hips with a bruising force, snapping his own hips up to chase the sensation of his high and you cried out at the sudden burst of friction, taking him deeper in than before. He stilled for a moment, catching his breath and coming back down to reality, surprised to still find you there and to know this wasn't just another wet dream, his subconscious reminding him of what he couldn't have.

He kissed the side of your neck before pulling out of you all too quickly, the fullness replaced by emptiness. You immediately pouted, glad you were turned away from him so he couldn't see the effect he had on you. He was zipping up as you stopped to pull your own pants back up your legs. 

"That was…amazing. Jesus Christ, Y/N, you've been holding out on me," he teased and you pushed him gently. "Ho hum, what to do with all these hours left?" He asked with a smirk.

"I could think of one or two things," you raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I do need some time to recuperate," he said, pulling a baggie of weed from his front pocket, "you down with just this for now?" He offered.

"Whatever you want, sweets." You purred at him, kissing him on the cheek. 

#bender #john bender #john bender x reader #benderxreader #benderxfem!reader #breakfast club #the breakfast club #80s fanfic #john hughes #smut #smutfic #lemon #john bender lemon #bender lemon

[b-a-n-a-n-a-ss]

Brian Johnson x reader - I Am Holding on for Dear Life

Summary: while in detention, the reader spills what’s been going on with her lately.

__________________________

I sighed deeply as the numb buzzing feeling ran through me. I puffed out the smoke and handed it to John.

John was currently talking about how privileged Claire is, I don’t blame him. She is very privileged. She has it better than she thinks she does.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Claire yelled. She started sobbing as she yelled at John. I rolled my eyes and moved back to lean against the desk. I crossed my arms over myself and I looked up at the ceiling.

I felt my eyes start to get heavy and I reached for the weed the Brian had. He handed it to me and I took a long drag. Brian moved to sit next to me and we shared the weed between us.

“Y/n what’s going on with you?” Andrew said, that caused everyone’s eyes to dart to me.

I shrugged and focused on smoking.

“Come on y/n, you can trust us.” Claire said.

“I feel like I’m going to kill myself. I hate everything, I hate my school and my family, I hate my friends. I can’t fucking do this shit anymore.” I ranted.

I grave the weed to Brian and I buried my head into my hands.

“How do you think you would do it?” I heard Alison ask.

I looked back up at all of them, “I would overdose. I have so many pills I can use. It would be so easy. And then everything would be over. I just can’t do this anymore. I-I can’t.” I said my voice cracking.

Then Andrew started talking about his shit.

I shook my head and got up, walking across the library to the empty closet. I walked in the closet and shut the door. I turned the light on and finally started crying.

I slide down the wall and sat on the floor.

I cried into my hands before I heard a knock on the door.

“Go away.” I said.

There was another knock and then the door opened. “I said go away!-“ I yelled but cut myself off as I saw Brian standing at the door.

I turned my head away from him and cried.

I heard him close the door and sit next to me.

“Y/n?” He said. He placed his hand on my shoulder and rubbed it.

I looked at him and he gave me a sweet smile full of love.

I felt my breath hitch and I cried some more. He wrapped his arms around me and brought me into his chest. He rubbed my back and rocked me slowly back and fourth.

“Shhh. It’s okay y/n.” He said.

Soon my crying got reduced down to hiccups then to nothing.

I stayed in his embrace though. I have liked Brian for awhile. And this was what I needed right now.

“Are you okay?” He asked me and he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Maybe.”I choked out.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” He said.

I looked up at him, “really?” I asked. He nodded and I smiled. I then smashed my lips onto his and we kissed

I moved my hand to play with his belt and he moaned into our kiss.

I pulled away, “I love you too Brian.” I breathed.

He smiled widely and we kissed again.

I straddled him and I ran my hands all over his chest. He moved his hand to cup my face and he moved his hand to my lower back.

I sucked on his bottom lip and he moaned.

I then unbuckled his belt and I started to fumble to pull off his boxers and jeans.

Brian got eager at this and threw my shirt off of my body. He slid my pants off and moved so he was on top of me. I laid on the floor and panted as Brian slid his shirt off.

I ran my hand over his chest. He wasn’t as built as Andrew but he was still beautiful.

“Brian you’re amazing.” I said in awe.

Brian blushed and leaned down and kissed me again.

He moved his hand to one of my breasts and played with it while I slid my panties off.

I could feel Brian’s member poking my leg.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked him.

“Yes.” He said.

Then he pushed himself gently into me. I moaned as he moved fluidly inside of me.

“Fuck.” I hissed as I bucked my hips for more traction.

“Harder.” I cried. Brian did as told and he shoved himself into me. I could feel him inside of me and I moaned.

I moved my hand in his hair and tangled my fingers in it. Brian moved his head down to my neck and sucked on my sweet spot.

“You feel so good y/n.” He moaned.

I gasped as Brian gripped my waist and jerked into me roughly. I could feel the wonderful feeling in my stomach and I moaned as it got stronger.

“Brian. I’m close.” I moaned.

Brian started to move faster and I arched my back. Brain buried his head in my neck as he moved his hips.

I then released all over his member and I let my body go limp. My breath was staggered as Brian came inside of me.

He pulled out and laid beside me. He was out of breath and his face was red.

“You’re amazing Brian.” I said as I sat up against the wall.

“You are too y/n.” He followed my actions. We sat in silence before he spoke up.

“That was my first time.” He said.

“Wait really?” I asked surprised. He nodded and I kissed his cheek.

“You were good for being a virgin.” I praised him. He blushed and kissed my lips softly.

“Will you be my girlfriend y/n?” He asked me. I smiled widely at him.

“Of course Brian.” We kissed deeply and pulled apart. We started to get dressed and when we left the room the other four were looking at us with smirks.

“What?” I asked them as I sat next to Brian at his table.

“Did y’all have fun in there?” John asked.

Brian went to say something but I cut him off. “Yep.” I said smugly. I leaned over and kissed Brian passionately.

He moaned lightly into the kiss then we pulled apart.

The others had wide eyes but soon went back to talking about whatever.

Brian draped his arm around my shoulders and I laid my head on his shoulder. He kissed my head and laid his on mine.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x y/n #fluff #the breakfast club #brian johnson #brian johnson x reader #x reader #smut #lovers #love #john bender #andrew clark

[fictionalmenmakemecry]

I'm not gonna lie, if Bender was in my class, I would let him rail me again and again in the janitor's closet...

I would be at his mercy.

However rough.

However dirty.

He. Can. Have. Me.

#fanfic #fluff #smut #love #john bender #bender #the breakfast club #breakfast #80s aesthetic #80s #80's movies #80s movies

[lanawinterscigarettes]

The Breakfast Club masterlist

Key:

Fluff: ♡ Angst: ♤ Smut: ♧ Headcanons: ◇ May contain triggering content: ☆

~

Claire Standish

The Breakfast Club members dating someone who's nonbinary ◇

~

Andrew Clark

The Breakfast Club members dating someone who's nonbinary ◇

~

Brian Johnson

The Breakfast Club members dating someone who's nonbinary ◇

~

John Bender

The Breakfast Club members dating someone who's nonbinary ◇

~

Allison Reynolds

The Breakfast Club members dating someone who's nonbinary ◇

~

#the breakfast club #the breakfast club imagines #the breakfast club x reader #the breakfast club fic #the breakfast club fluff #the breakfast club angst #the breakfast club smut #the breakfast club masterlist #claire standish imagines #claire standish x reader #andy clark imagines #andy clark x reader #brian johnson imagines #brian johnson x reader #john bender imagines #john bender x reader #allison reynolds imagines #allison reynolds x reader

[lovebugism]

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever. 

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems. 

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore. 

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you. 

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough.  You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against. 

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles). 

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into. 

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary. 

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you. 

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”  

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her. 

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips. 

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means. 

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you. 

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds. 

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about. 

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place. 

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right. 

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week. 

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now. 

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie. 

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you. 

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call. 

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.” 

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting. 

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer. 

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat. 

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way. 

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye. 

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm. 

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing. 

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college. 

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs. 

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

 Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be. 

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching. 

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully. 

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease. 

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago. 

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need. 

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret. 

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure. 

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?” 

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading —  and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly. 

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious. 

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for. 

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry. 

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you. 

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him. 

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him. 

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so. 

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes. 

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you. 

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it. 

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats. 

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling. 

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day. 

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down. 

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone. 

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him. 

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold. 

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler. 

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock. 

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.” 

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time.  “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are. 

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were. 

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?” 

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so. 

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.” 

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost. 

But it’s happened before. 

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight. 

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise. 

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak. 

You want him. 

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

[fandomxpreferences]

Kiss For Kiss, Heart For Heart (Part 3 of Heartbroke Bitch)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x female!reader

TW:18+, smut, spitting, choking, angst, fluff, mention of depression, I think thats it?

Summary: Rafe is working overtime to win you back, and you fully intended on putting him in his place. Really you did, but whats a girl to do when she's peering into those blue eyes?

Word Count:3.2k

A/N: Rafe Cameron has a kink for spitting in your mouth and I will die on this hill

Your eyes burn as they flutter open, swollen and red from incessant crying. It's been a week since the incident with Rafe and though you've ended your bender, it's been replaced with a depressive episode that has reduced you to a permanent fixture on your bed. 

The mattress has all but absorbed your body, only relinquishing its hold when you have to use the bathroom or eat to avoid passing out. JJ has been the most attentive member, the rest of them deciding to give you space. 

The blonde practically force-feeds you, and after four days he all but waterboarded you while shoving you into the shower.

Rafe has stopped by a couple times, only to be turned away by your friends. He's persistent though, sending texts every night until you finally just shut your phone off. 

Your body aches from being stagnant for so long and you heave a sigh before prying yourself from beneath the warm comforter to face the world. You take your time, feet dragging as if boulders are attached to them as you make your way to the door. 

You pad down the hallway, not bothering to fix your tangled hair or wrinkled clothes, and stop when you see everybody talking. John B notices you first and everyone quickly follows his line of sight. 

"She lives!" 

JJ practically tackles you to the ground in a hug and you can't help the small smile that creeps onto your features. The rest of the Pogues follow suit and before you know it, you have five sets of arms squeezing the air out of you. 

"Okay, okay! I'm alive but I won't be for much longer if you don't let me breathe." You laugh, and JJ's face lights up at the sound. 

You've barely spoken, let alone shown any joy, and he's elated that you seem somewhat like your usual self. They all let go and John B wrinkles his nose. 

"I love you, but you stink. Go shower."

You put your hand over your heart in mock offense but don't object before following his orders. 

The hot water is healing as it rains down on you, and you tilt your head back to soak it in. You take a while, making time to exfoliate and shave. The sweet smell of your usual body wash fills your nostrils and you savor it. 

Truthfully, you were getting tired of the expensive perfumes that smelled like someone you don't recognize and it's comforting to have your usual scent back. It's the first time you've felt like you're in your own skin, and it makes you grin. 

You're clad in an oversized t-shirt and shorts as you trek back to the porch, scrunching your hair with a towel to wring out the water. You stop in your tracks when you see someone walking away and a very confused JJ holding a massive vase of flowers. 

Your eyebrows pinch together as you make your way over and pluck the card that's poking out of the bouquet. 

'Pretty flowers for a pretty girl. -R'

You can't help the shocked expression that befalls you and show an expectant JJ the card. 

"Want me to toss them?"

You shake your head with a sigh and place them on the counter. You're met with another text that night asking if you liked the gift, but choose to ignore it. 

A week later, the flowers are wilting and you're met with a fresh replacement. You shake your head at the gesture and read the card. 

'Please don't forget me and what we had. -R'

Gifts from Rafe weren't a rare occurrence by any means, he spoiled you with expensive items all the time. It was common for him to see a diamond necklace or expensive dress and get it for you. 

But the next few days are a whole new level of love bombing. Every day, you're met with a new package. One day it's a diamond bracelet, the next a new designer robe, followed by a new bag that you know costs more than a used car. 

It's when you open an envelope to an all-inclusive resort vacation he booked that you reach your breaking point. 

"Okay, this is fucking ridiculous."

You stand with a huff and everyone looks up with a frown as you stalk toward the door. 

"Where are you going?"

You look over your shoulder at JJ and grab the keys to Twinkie. 

"To put an end to this."

You storm out before he can reply and you vaguely hear John B call out after you. 

"Sure, take the Twinkie. I don't mind."

You're fuming the entire drive to Tannyhill, set on giving Rafe a piece of your mind. Who the hell does he think he is trying to win you back by flaunting his wealth?

Rafe is already outside when you come screeching into the driveway, and he looks up with a smile when he sees it's you. His smile only grows when he sees your agitated demeanor, and he crosses his arms over his chest. 

He's always thought you were cute when mad, and watching you march across the yard toward him is downright adorable. He's got a considerable amount of height over you, and your head turns up to glare at him as your small hands shove against his broad chest. 

He barely moves and you refrain from stomping your foot like a child throwing a tantrum. 

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" 

Your finger is pointed in his face as you shout, and the way his eyes shine with adoration almost makes you slap him in his stupid pretty face. 

"What do you mean?"

He knows exactly what you mean, but you yelling at him is hot and he wants nothing more than to keep it coming. 

"You can't buy my love and attention, Rafe!"

He bites back a remark about how it worked for the other men and shrugs his shoulders. 

"Wasn't trying to. Just because we're not together doesn't mean I can't spoil you."

His smile is smug and you stare up at him dumbfounded. You're chest to chest now, your lungs heaving air in and out. 

"That's exactly what it means. How am I supposed to explain that to my next boyfriend? 'Oh, these are just my daily gifts from my rich ex, no big deal.' That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"

His face falls at the mention of a new boyfriend and he steps impossibly closer to you. You try to ignore the way his cologne envelopes your senses or his breath that smells like spearmint fanning across your face. 

"When are you going to stop acting like we're not meant to be together?"

His voice is low and you suppress the shiver that runs up your spine. You roll your eyes hard enough to see stars momentarily and scoff. 

"When are you going to stop acting like we are meant to be together?"

Your tone is harsh as you snap at him, but it does nothing to deter him. 

"When it stops being true. You know that no one else can give you the life I can. I'm the only one that knows how to make you tick, the only one that can make you so happy you could explode."

Your eye contact doesn't waiver and you catch the flash of hurt when you bite out your response, regret flooding you. 

"No one else can make me so miserable that I cry myself to sleep and angry enough to throw lamps at their head either."

The two of you stay there for a second just staring each other down and panting, willing the other to break first.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. For the fighting, for the drugs, for the violence. I didn't love you the way you deserve, and I will regret that for my entire life."

For the first time, you're shocked into silence. Words seem to evade you as you soak in his apology. In a year of dating Rafe, not once has he shown remorse or taken accountability for his actions and how they affected you. 

You search his face for any sign of deceit, yet all you find is genuine sorrow and guilt. 

"I'm so sorry for all the pain I caused, and the danger I put you in with no regard for your feelings or safety. You stuck by me through it all, and I had the nerve to cast you aside. I'm not good with emotions, but for you, I'll try my damnedest."

Your silence and the contemplative look on your face scare him and he's just about to beg you to speak when your lips smash against his. 

He freezes for a second before melting into you, his muscles rippling as he crushes you against his firm body. After a second your brain catches up to your body and you recoil. 

His face carries so much love and hope that you find yourself believing him and sigh. You might regret this, but you know for certain that you'll spend the rest of your life wondering if you don't allow him to prove himself. 

"This is your last chance, Rafe. I mean it. No more fighting with my friends, no more yelling, no more drugs. Being away from you made me realize how much I was holding onto your potential instead of what's in front of me, and I can't do these games with you anymore. It's either all in or all out."

He doesn't hesitate before spinning you around and burying his face into your neck. He notices your usual strawberry shampoo and coconut body wash and feels like he's home. 

"No more. I promise. I'll do right by you this time. Losing you made me realize that I can't breathe without you in my life and I never want to feel that way again. I'll be better for you, for myself."

You nod into his shoulder and he pulls you into a searing kiss. His hand taps the back of your thighs and you follow his signal to jump, your legs wrapping firmly around his waist. 

He doesn't spare a second, carrying you inside and straight to his bedroom. He lays you gently on his bed and you rejoice at the familiar sensation of his sheets on your skin and body weight on top of you. 

He moves slowly, not wanting to rush you, as his lips leave a trail of fire down your neck and onto your cleavage. Every movement is deliberate, and you release a throaty moan when you feel his warm hands envelop your waist. 

You're not as patient though, and hastily yank his shirt over his head to toss it somewhere in the room. He seems to take the hint and follows suit. In a matter of a couple minutes, you're both naked under his comforter, bodies sharing heat and writhing in unison. 

Sex has always been second nature with Rafe. It seems the two of you are always in sync, anticipating each other's moves with ease. His cock rubs against your folds and you buck your hips up to try and gain more friction. 

"Slow down, pretty girl. I want to savor this. You know I'll take care of you." 

A whine slips past your lips and you pinch him when you feel him smirk against your throat. Rafe has always been a tease, he loves to rile you up to the point of begging before giving in to his desire. 

"Rafe, I swear to god if you don't fuck me in the next ten sec-"

You're cut off by a moan when he thrusts into you sharply, his pelvis hitting yours as he seats himself inside you fully.

"What was that, princess?"

You can't bring yourself to think of a smartass remark; your brain and body are overwhelmed by the feeling of him hitting your sweet spot.

In the span of your little bender, you found yourself comparing every man to Rafe and not a single one of them was able to fuck you right or draw out the sweet sounds he does with minimal effort. 

Your head falls back onto his pillow when he pulls out only to slam into you again and any remaining trace of thoughts are erased. He's all you can focus on. 

All your senses are consumed by him. His large hands that are wrapped around your thighs, pushing them to your chest so he can hit it at just the right angle only he can find. His cologne that smells like expensive whiskey and sweet tobacco making your head swim. His warm mouth sucking love bites onto every inch of exposed flesh they can reach. 

The taste of his tongue, a familiar flavor of gum mingling with afternotes of chocolate. The sound of him grunting right next to your ear, guttural moans choking him every few seconds. You missed everything about this, and suddenly everything else that's happened is forgiven and forgotten. 

Fucking Rafe is euphoric, an absolutely divine experience that you can't imagine never getting to experience again. He's sweet and rough at the same time, a perfect and mind-numbing push and pull of submissive and dominant. 

Nothing else exists in these moments, and you find yourself surrendering to him completely. Every touch and sound sends shockwaves through you, making your body buzz with excitement and pleasure.

You come to life beneath him, and it seems that your sole purpose for existing is to do this dance with him. He stares down at you, completely enraptured by the way your hair fans around your head like a halo, and zeroed in on the utter bliss of watching your mouth fall open to form a perfect 'oh'.

His pace is brutal as he fucks into you exactly the way you like, his body responding to yours in a way that can only be described as poetic. You fit together perfectly, the place your bodies conjoin coming together like puzzle pieces that have been searching for their match for eons. 

This is an out-of-body experience, two souls coming together in a way so beautiful and magical that you can't help but think the two of you have been together through many lifetimes. 

You cling to him as if he's the only thing keeping you from floating away, and in a way he is. He thinks you're breathtaking like this and makes a silent vow to never let you go again. 

Your hands find purchase on his back and he revels in the feeling of your perfectly manicured nails raking across his tan skin, no doubt leaving behind angry red scratches. Your voice is heavenly as delicious moans and gasps fill the room and bounce off the walls. 

The headboard crashes into the wall with rhythmic thumps, and at that moment Rafe decides the sound of wood on drywall mixed with his name rolling off your lips is his favorite song. 

Your chest arches into his as his fingers squeeze your throat with a delectable amount of pressure, and despite all the jewelry he's bought you, his hand is by far your favorite necklace. 

"Open your mouth, baby."

You do as he says without thinking, eager to please him in any way you can. You choke on a whimper when he spits into your mouth and a blissed-out smile carves itself into your face. 

Sex with Rafe is always filthy, and you know this is his way of making you his in every way known to man. It's a soul tie no doubt, but you figure your souls were intricately weaved together anyway. 

He shakes his head in complete awe at the woman he's in love with. The way you smile after he does something so raunchy drives him mad, but he loves it. He's insane in a lot of ways, but if having you like this is what drives him over the edge then he'll gladly wear the straightjacket. 

"Always so good for me. My perfect girl, I missed you so much. Missed your heart and body, missed the angelic sounds you make for me. I'm so in love with you."

His hand snakes its way into your hair and tugs at the base of your skull, desperate to have you so close your bodies simply morph together. You don't respond with words, you can't, so instead you kiss him with all the force and emotion you can muster. 

He knows it's your way of returning the sentiment. A testament to your unwavering love for him that even through the darkest times can never be fully extinguished. 

He can tell you're nearing the edge, your pussy pulsing around him and limbs quivering uncontrollably. He's right there with you, and when his arm wraps under your back with his hand gripping your shoulder to gain momentum, the two of you let go together. 

It's the eighth wonder of the world as you both succumb to the pleasure, teeth clashing and foreheads pressed together. Sweat drips down your faces as you both come back down to Earth, vision white and ears ringing. 

You're both disheveled with messy hair and flushed skin glistening, just basking in the afterglow. 

Rafe presses a tender kiss to your head before peeling his spent body away from you. You're paralyzed as you watch him go into the en suite only to return a few seconds later with a towel. 

He cleans you up and wipes your face before doing the same for himself, and crawling back into bed. You flop like a ragdoll as he maneuvers you so your head is on his chest, and the steady beat of his heart slowly brings you back to your senses. 

"I love you."

His voice is sultry, a significantly deeper octave after being consumed by the throws of passion. It drips like molasses, thick and slow. 

"I love you too." 

It comes out a raspy whisper, your throat raw from screaming so loud you're sure all of figure Eight could hear. You want to stay up to discuss your relationship and what the future holds, but the rise and fall of Rafe's chest as he breathes deeply lulls you into a meditative state. 

It's silent aside from your breaths and the sounds outside, and you can't bring yourself to break the solitude even if you could. You know there will be plenty of time to talk. 

These moments are almost holy to you, the musky smell of sex and arousal swirling around you. This room is inherently you and Rafe, the unique scent of strawberry and tobacco merging to create an aroma you wish you could turn into a candle. 

It's always bizarre to you how after committing downright sinful acts, the environment becomes something pure. It's something only you, Rafe, and these four walls know about. 

Your eyes sting as you fight off drowsiness, desperate to stay conscious and enjoy the feeling of being in his arms again.

Rafe seems to read your mind as his fingers trace up and down your spine absentmindedly, bringing a comfort only he can provide. 

"Go to sleep. We can go to dinner when we wake up."

As if all you needed was his permission, your eyelids flutter closed and a deep sleep overtakes you. Rafe lays awake for a little while longer, thinking of all the ways he can show you that you're the one he wants to spend his life with. 

Eventually, exhaustion becomes too strong and he drifts off, the two of you tangled together like vines.

@brooklynscherry-z @joselyn001 @writtenwordslover @craftyalmondghostflap @malfoytargaryen @dearreader03 @magnificantmermaid @disturbedbeautywrites

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #outer banks fluff #outer banks angst #outer banks imagine #outer banks smut #outer banks fic

[featherandferns]

20 smut pls

20. Say that again.

i'm going to hell but at least i'll get a good tan...

idk what jj actually stands for but go with it, please

feel free to request: prompt list

john james - prompt 20

“What does JJ stand for?”

You look to your boyfriend as you ask. The two of you are lounging on the front of the boat as it’s tethered to the jetty of the Chateau. Both of your legs are outstretched; sat side by side. In your hand is a bottle of beer and in his, a joint.

“John J.”

“And the second J?”

“James,” he clarifies, turning his head away from the horizon to look at you. “John James Maybank.”

“That’s like a tongue twister,” you chuckle.

He grins. “Say it five times, fast?”

“John James Maybank, John James Maybank, John Jay Baymank—”

The two of you laugh and you shake your head at the silliness. Uncrossing then recrossing your ankles, you have another swig of your drink. Leaning your head against his bare shoulder, enjoying the last few rays of sunlight before dusk, you smile. JJ presses a brief kiss to your forehead.

“When’d you become JJ then?”

“After I met John B,” JJ said. “Made it easier to tell which one of us was being yelled at by his dad.”

“I’m guessing it was always you?”

“Usually, yeah,” JJ confirms with a chuckle, making you laugh.

“John B and John J. The two Johns.”

JJ sniggers at that, pressing another kiss to your head.

“You’re so weird,” he lovingly tells you. Hooks his spare arm around your waist, letting his hand comfortably rest on your thigh. As JJ takes another drag of his joint, the conversation drifts away with the waves.

You half forget that you’d even asked until a couple of days later. It’s when the two of you are fooling around at his house.

His dad’s out on a bender somewhere (probably Barry’s) and JJ clearly has plans to take full advantage of the empty house. He’s already gone down on you in the kitchen, with you perched on the counter. The only thing that kept you from falling onto your back was the tight grip one of your hands had on the rim of the kitchen top, the other uselessly grasping at his hair. JJ then practically manhandled you onto the sofa in the sitting room, kicking away empty cans and tossing an old t-shirt to the side to make space. A messy make-out driven purely by the haze of pleasure. You’d returned the favour then, giving him head as he sunk into the tired couch, his head resting back on the top of it. You loved the sounds he made; loved how he wasn’t quiet with it. How he’d chant your name and mumble out his little praises (‘taking me so good, baby.’). You even loved when he got a little mean. The way he’d tug tightly on your hair, forming a makeshift ponytail, and force you down so you’d deepthroat him. He’d never hurt you, though. Would stop if you told him to.

You want him to finish there and then but clearly, he has other plans. JJ forces you off him, somewhat reluctant to do so, and you crawl up to kiss him again. Finally, your t-shirts tugged off, and you happily do the same with his. His fingers move around to unhook your bra, but he’s shaking from edging and can’t do it, making the two of you laugh breathlessly. You do it for him, tossing it to the side, and JJ’s thanks is focused to your chest. Kisses that’ll bruise and the gently teething against the flesh that has you groaning. Your head tumbles forward to rest on his shoulder, hands lopping around his neck, fingers weaving into his hair. Subconsciously, you rock against his hard-on, your slick risking him slipping in. The moment he teases at your entrance you’re moaning. Thoughts are a blurry, incoherent mess in the fog of the amorousness, and for some reason a name slips into your mind and tumbles desperately out of your mouth like a plea.

“John.”

JJ stops his assault on your chest with a breath. It’s like that brings you back to reality a little. You catch onto what you’d just said. Before you can think about it too much or wonder why exactly you’d thought to call him by his first name, JJ’s pressing his forehead against yours, kissing at your mouth with a new heat. Okay…

“Say that again,” he mumbles against your lips. It’s a demand. You can’t help but smirk.

Shifting against him again, basking in his desperate whimper that it elicits, you move to kiss at his jaw, working your way up to his ear. You nibble at his earlobe a moment.

“Want you to fuck me, John,” you whisper.

His hands tighten on your waist, firm enough to leave a mark, and you can’t help but giggle knowingly. Who knew that there’d be more things that could get your boyfriend fired up? It’s like you’ve just overturned a rock that had been outside of your house for the past five years, only to find a secret spare key.

He’s hauling you up as he stands (your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist) and then he’s placing you, only semi-gently, to lie on the floor. JJ half-arsedly shoves some junk out of the way; takes a moment to grab a pillow from the sofa for you to rest your head on. But you don’t have the patience for it. You need him now. Pulling him down by his face, hands cradling his jaw, he gladly kisses you back. Not breaking apart, he finally slides into you. You’re practically soaked and he fits in so easy it has the both of you moaning.

“Thank fuck for the pill,” JJ rasps against your lips.

Your chuckle barely lasts a second. JJ starts fucking into you, fast and hard, and you’re not surprised if your eyes don’t roll up into the back of your head. Your hands scramble for purchase; one comes to claw at his back, at the skin of his shoulder blade, and the other moves around the floor before coming to grasp at the foot of the coffee table. He’s grunting, loud and fervent, his head dropping down near your shoulder. One hand cages you in as he holds himself up by the arm, right next to your head, and the other is gripping your hips all mean-like. The sounds you’re making feel detached from you: gasps and moans and pants. There’s no other thought in your head apart from how fucking good everything feels.

“You close?” JJ asks, almost right in your ear.

You nod. Clench around him. He moves his hand from your hip to rub at your clit. It has your back arching, your knees bending, toes curling. It’s like he made you from how well he knows your body. Drew you into existence and willed you to life. Needing him closer somehow, you pull his lips to yours, tethering your fingers into the strands of his hair. The kiss is practically useless, with how much the two of you are moaning, but you don’t want it to end. You don’t want him to pull away but you also want to come so bad it almost hurts.

“JJ, please,” you whine desperately.

“Fuck,” JJ gasps. His rhythm’s faltering. He’s getting tired and he’s so close that he can barely hold it together.

In fact, he doesn’t. He comes with a broken moan of your name, shuddering against you, panting against your neck. You let him catch his breath a moment, indulge in his kisses, knowing that he’ll take care of you once he can breathe again. Pulling out of you, making you gasp, he slips two fingers inside. It’s filthy, the sounds it makes, the mix of the two of you, and the thought alone has you teetering on the edge as he fingers you. JJ kisses at your neck the way he knows you like. Rubs at your overstimulated clit. You come with an almost inaudible gasp, eyes clenching shut. JJ’s chuckle against your throat is dark and muffled by your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he mumbles into your ear. That has you clenching again, around his drenched fingers, and JJ chuckles again. “Oh, you like that, huh?”

You laugh through a breath. Guess that makes the two of you even now…

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj drabble #jj maybank drabble #jj x reader drabble #jj maybank x reader drabble #obx #obx drabbles #obx preferences #outer banks #outer banks drabbles #outerbanks preferences #20 #prompts #drabbles

[archie-sunshine]

So, What Now?(Rehabili/Cohabi-tation)

Chapter 5: In Which A Movie is Best Enjoyed with Others

FIC TAGS: Eventual Whirl/Cyclonus/Tailgate, Cyclonus/Tailgate, polyamory, slowburn romance, mutual pining, slice of life, fluff, comedy, eventual smut(planned for later chapters), sappy mushy lovey stuff, polycue

The Lost Light has a brand new universe to explore! But everyone's still tired from the old one! In the interim between wacky hijinks, a solution is offered to those bored to death by peacetime- Why form a club about it or renovate your hab suite of course!

Whirl doesn't know how he feels about all the pep. And even worse, he doesn't know how to feel about Cyclonus and Tailgate wanting him to join in on their clean slate. 

Other Chapters here! Read on AO3 here!

_________

Author's Notes: Ok this one gets really really mushy but this is a treat for ME okay. I cannot stress the importance of domesticity in this fanfic. I also read the entire breakfast club script for this fanfic bc i didnt have time to watch the movie straight, and I've concluded that whirl would absolutely be a John Bender kinnie and you can't tell me otherwise, sorry.

CHAPTER TAGS: Movie night, cuddling, canoodling, whirl getting way too worked up in his own head about affection, background Chromedome/Rewind, swerve is also there

The spritzers continued to be awful. Tailgate must have tried a dozen different ratios trying to get them right, and each one was uniquely bad. 

Rewind cringed at the flavour of the latest one, scrunching up his optics. “Oh man- Tailgate, buddy, what in the name of Primus did engex do to you to make you do this to it!?” He cackled, leaning back against the sofa. 

Tailgate moaned in anguish. “I’m TRYING!!! I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!!” He let out a heavy ex vent, reaching for the near empty bottle of engex. 

Cyclonus placed a servo on Tailgate’s forearm. “Alright, lets give it a rest. How about we just have some normal energon.” 

“Yeah, you’ve got that sweet flavoured stuff, don’t you?” Whirl observed, swishing the half drunk spritzer- attempt #6- in its cube. 

“Oh yeah! Hold on- Slag- I’m out of cubes…” He mumbled, climbing down off his bar stool and wandering to the table to gather up the leftover cubes from their escapades in engex consumption. 

“I could borrow some out of our hab, if you like?” Rewind offered, sitting up. 

“Oh yeah? Oh-! How about we make an event of it, we could invite some folks over, maybe watch a few holovids?” Tailgate proposed, dumping the leftover spritzer’d engex down the trash chute. 

“Maybe if we invite Swerve over we could even have a chance at a palatable cocktail or two.” Whirl teased, earning an offended look from the minibot. 

“I’ve just comm’d domey, he’s on his way with some cubes.” Rewind said. 

“Perfect, I’ll bug Swerve as well!” Tailgate added.

*

It was only when the two other bots arrived that Whirl realized he had once again been roped into a night at Cyclonus and Tailgate’s hab suite. He glanced around, dimly noting Chromedome and Rewind greeting each other with as close to a kiss as their mouthpieces could allow. Swerve was making a beeline to Tailgate, accepting a spritzer from him with a warm grin as he held up a datastick and began to ramble about the ‘vid they were planning on watching. 

The newly reunited couple glanced around for a spot to sit. Whirl offered up his seat, shifting to the sofa next to Cyclonus. He leaned in a bit to whisper in his audial.

“This is all part of your plan isn’t it?” He hissed.

Cyclonus didn’t turn to face him. “What are you talking about?” 

Whirl continued to stare at him.

“You’re complaining about spending time with myself and Tailgate?” 

“N- I didn’t say that-” Whirl stammered.

“Then relax.” Cyclonus murmured, raising a brow ridge.

Whirl leaned back into the couch with a huff, folding his arms and starting to scoot down towards the opposite end of the couch. Swerve came down in his spot before he could shift fully. Whirl grunted, putting his pedes up on the table as Tailgate squeezed in between himself and Cyclonus.

Swerve had climbed up onto the back of the couch, reaching up to the holoprojector hanging from the ceiling. “Alright, I promised an unequivocal banger for tonight, and I swear you all are not gonna be disappointed.” He stood on the tips of his pedes, inserting the data slug into the side of the projector as it began to power on. “My dear mechs, I present to you, the human masterpiece, The Breakfast Club.”

*

“I don’t get it, so the punishment for them is just to sit quietly in a library?” Whirl muttered. 

“I guess humans are just a bit more fragile, no hard labour punishments or anything?” Tailgate whispered. 

On screen, the human with the visor- Bender?- did something kind of crude and gross. 

Whirl laughed quietly. “I like this kid, sorta nasty.” 

“Oh yea, bender’s a total card, you’re gonna love him.” Swerve confirmed through an intake full of energon crisps. 

“Yeesh, there's so much angst here, is it true that humans are like this for like a fifth of their lifetime?” Chromedome asked, cringing a bit at the dramatics. 

“We know some people who have been like this for milenia, I think we can give humans their 8 to 10 years of it.” Rewind shrugged. 

“Shhhh, I’m tryna watch!” Whirl hissed, before immediately once again giggling at the human’s antics.

*

The whole room had gone silent. There’s a long, tense moment, something between the five of them, younger humans all shouting out their feelings and thoughts.

Usually it would make Whirl die of boredom. But there was a tiny white servo wrapped around one of his claws. He didn’t have the tanks to look down, but it felt like his servos were on the verge of burning off. He didn’t understand it, he had plenty of friends, knew plenty of people, but there was just something about him that put them off from making contact. Sure, the occasional pat on the back plate, maybe a handshake, but more often a slap or kick. 

His servo was so small- Tailgates that is- but it was ruddy, paint chipped in places and painted back over, digits not so dextrous but round and gentle. When the humans on screen did something surprising, something that shocked and awed the little bot, he squeezed, just a bit too tight around Whirl’s claw. 

If that wasn’t bad enough, Cyclonus had absently reached an arm around Tailgate’s shoulders, meaning to hold the minibot closer, but as he did, he’d managed to sandwich his servo between the two of them. Whirl could feel every movement as Cyclonus fondly stroked Tailgate’s tire with one of his digits, the feeling mirrored against Whirl’s upper arm. 

He hadn’t realized how long it had been since anyone had been so gentle with him, even inadvertently so. Well, he could remember one notable outlier, being sat upon the same couch as he had been during the previous incident. 

Whirl had never felt so tense. 

He glanced down at the mostly full engex cocktail in his other servo. A long curly straw stuck out of it, perfect for his odd and inopportune intake. There was ample supply of straws in the couple’s unit, given Tailgate’s similar situation. He chased the straw around with his intake, beginning a long sip as the teen angst filled the air. 

The movie was so stupid, it didn’t even make sense, half the things out of their mouths were completely lost on Whirl. All about parents and school and cliques. He supposed if he looked at it from a different angle he might understand it better, but it was also. Sort of hard to focus. 

The long haired mech on screen had started shouting, so suddenly that Tailgate had jolted, his servo turning to a vice grip around Whirl’s claw. Whirl swallowed a wince, closing his servo around Tailgate’s and squeezing gently to try and convince him to ease off.

His digits unclenched almost absently as Tailgate resettled, now leaning his helm against Whirl’s arm. The taller mech’s processor felt fuzzy and hot, his optic crackling just a bit as he stubbornly focussed his gaze ahead to not pay attention to the minibot cuddling against his side.

These feelings that had been growing in him over the past cycles were foreign, alien. They felt wrong, tight in his chassis like his spark was jerked out of place. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, he wasn’t supposed to feel at all. They felt distant, like a foreign body or a parasite gnawing at his spark. He wanted them to leave him, return him back to that emptiness that he’d grown to know. 

He slumped down a bit where he was sitting.

Nothing fit right in him anymore, chaos felt more like control than this peace. 

He hesitated for a moment, turning his optic briefly to peek at Tailgate and Cyclonus. Cyclonus’s digits had left Tailgate’s tire, now absently brushing along the edge of Whirl’s shoulder pad. It must have been an accident.

There was a moment of silence on screen, just before the actors began to talk again. 

Whirl leaned his helm awkwardly onto Tailgates. He could feel the minibot jolt for the barest moment before relaxing. Cyclonus’s digits found the back of Whirl’s neck and hesitantly rested there. 

The room was dark, save for the holoscreen’s light. He knew that the others could obviously see them, somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him. 

But he could pretend. He could pretend there was a moment of intimate privacy between the three of them. It felt like there were only the three of them in the universe to Whirl at least.

He let out a quiet vent, letting the tension leave him. 

… This movie was stupid.

*

“...Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.” 

“Man… These humans, they’re like… Crazy good at this.” Swerve mumbled. “Got me all moved and slag.” 

“I dunno, I think I liked the other ones better, that long one with the four old femmes?” Chromedome asked. 

“The Golden Girls is not a movie, it’s a tv show!” Swerve balked. 

“Ohhhh… I figured it was a bit long for a single holovid…” Chrome dome mused, turning his attention to Rewind. “I was wondering why it was taking so long to finish.” 

“You were determined though, got through a whole season before questioning it.” The minibot laughed, climbing out of his conjunx’s lap and helping him up. “Thanks for the movie, Swerve, and thanks for hosting you two! It was nice to not be the projector this time.” 

The pair gathered up their empty energon cubes from the table and began to make their way out of the unit.

“Thanks for attending.” Cyclonus said warmly, offering a crooked smile. 

“Yeah, come by anytime!” Tailgate chirped. 

As Swerve got up to leave as well, Whirl finally became acutely aware of how entangled he’d become with the remaining couple. He began to wriggle his arm free from Tailgate, who glanced up at him as he let him go. 

“Take care, Swerve.” Cyclonus said. Swerve waved goodbye and trotted through the open unit door. It closed behind him with a quiet whoosh.

“That was nice, wasn’t it?” Tailgate sighed, shifting to lean against Cyclonus as Whirl shuffled away down the couch. 

“Yeah, it’s been a bit since we had a holovid night.” Whirl mused, claw absently rubbing at the back of his neck where Cyclonus had placed his servo. 

The odd tense feeling had returned, layered with that warmth as Whirl gazed at the couple. He fought for the right words to say, some suave or aloof way to say he’d be leaving again. The two of them just looked at him, almost expectantly- or maybe disappointedly- waiting for his excuse. He could see that twinge- he acted obtuse but he could see them prepare for the sting. He couldn’t pretend it was relief anymore. He opened and shut his claws. His vents felt choked and stilted. The engex he’d drunk wasn’t close to enough for an excuse for this. 

“... Listen- I… I don’t get why it's such a big deal or whatever to you- that I’m by myself so much-” He started, standing up off the couch. He couldn’t look at them. “It’s- It’s not a problem like you think-” He risked a glance at them. 

It was a mistake. Tailgate’s face had fallen a bit, looking at his own servos and fidgeting a little. Cyclonus’s face was unreadable, all warmth pushed back, blazing red optics intense with the effort of concealment. 

Whirl’s vocalizer felt choked. His voice wouldn’t start up no matter how he cycled it. 

This is stupid, why was he doing this? Why didn’t he just run?

“B-...But if its important to you-” He began stiltedly. “... I guess- maybe-... Like I wouldn’t mind-... We’re already going to those clubs and all-”

What was he saying- WHAT WAS HE SAYING??!

“I GUESS I could-.. Y’know… move in. Sometime.” He cleared his vocalizer again, kicking his pedes against the floor. Suddenly the wall directly behind the two of them seemed so interesting. 

He waited for the door to slam on him, waited for the rug to come out from under him, waited for a curse or a jeer or a denial. 

He dimly heard the two of them shift. He turned his helm away just in time for Cyclonus’s servo on his shoulder to surprise him. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” Cyclonus said stiffly. Whirl turned back to face him. That mask of apathy was still there, but shifted. There was a softness in his optics that made them look less like the red of fire and more like a far off sunrise. 

He nearly jumped out of his plating when Tailgate let out a happy trill and wrapped his arms tight around either mech’s hips. “Ohhh, Whirrrlll!!! I’m so glad!!” He cheered, squeezing the two of them to his chassis tenderly- oh- a bit too- OW-

“Ah- my love-” Cyclonus gritted out.

“You’re gonna- TAILGATE- YOU’RE CRUSHING M-ME-” Whirl croaked out-

“OHGOD IMSORRY!” Tailgate squeaked, releasing them. Whirl glanced down at the incredibly pronounced digit marks now dented into his thigh plating. The same marks were mirrored on Cyclonus’s hip armour. 

Whirl began to laugh, almost involuntarily at the ridiculousness of it all. He couldn’t help it, none of this made sense anymore. 

“I’m sorry-!! I didn’t mean to-” Tailgate fussed. Cyclonus’s chassis and shoulders began to quiver, faceplate twisting to hold back a smile. 

Whirl’s optic scrunched as his laugh grew louder, Cyclonus joining him as it rumbled out of his chest. Tailgate glanced between them, bewildered, and began to laugh as well, again wrapping them in a warm hug, this time more gently than the last. 

The world felt warm. Whirl didn’t fully know why he’d agreed, he swore he was about to turn them down properly. But he was just crazy enough to chase that feeling, instead of running like every bit of him told him to. 

He could figure it all out later. He wanted to savour this.

#cywhirlgate #cygate #cywhirl #whirlgate #transformers #transformers mtmte #tf mtmte #cyclonus #tailgate #whirl #my fic #my art #fluff #slice of life

[dazedwiththe70s80s90s]

Movies I'll mainly write for and characters:

Key:/=NO SMUT *=ALLOWED SMUT

Dazed and Confused-

Randall Pink Floyd*

Ron Slater*

Kevin Pickford*

Jodi Kramer*

David Wooderson*

Mitch Kramer/

Michelle Burroughs*

Scream-

Billy Loomie*

Stu Matcher*

Tatum Riley*

Sidney Prescott*

Dewey Riley

Boys(1996)-

John Phillips/

Bud Valentine/

John Bake Jr./

The Breakfast Club-

Brain Johnson*

Andrew Clark*

John Bender*

So I will be adding, but that is just the stuff I write for right now. If you have more or want more, I will write! Just let me know~ If you ever have headcanons, by all means, let me know! Give me ideas, and I'll write them just for y'all! You guys on here can call me Dazed!

-Sincerely, Dazed~♡♡♡

#dazed and confused #scream #x reader #breakfast club #boys1996

[spenceluvsurmomsblog]

Master list!

Here’s what/who I currently write smut/fluff for!

Huge disclaimer: if you know a character is a minor then you should know I will not write smut for them. Ty loves!

Full / fuller house

Jesse Katsopolis

Joey Gladstone

Danny Tanner

(Older) DJ Tanner

(Older) Stephanie Tanner

(Older) Kimmy Kibbler

Matt Harmon

Heart stopper

Nick Nelson (fluff)

Charlie Spring (fluff)

Tara Jones (fluff)

Darcy (fluff)

Issac (fluff)

Tori Spring (depends on what’s requested)

Aled (fluff)

Tou Xu (fluff)

Elle (fluff)

The summer I turned pretty

Conrad Fisher (smut/fluff)

Jeremiah Fisher (smut/fluff)

Steven Conklin (smut/fluff)

Isabell Conklin (fluff)

Susannah Fisher (fluff)

Laurel Conklin (fluff)

The Black Phone

Finney Blake (fluff)

Robin Arellano (fluff)

Bruce Yamada (fluff)

Vance Hopper (fluff)

Griffin Stagg (fluff any one who requests smut is blocked)

Billy Showalter (fluff)

Metal Lords

Hunter Sylvester (smut/fluff)

Kevin (smut/fluff)

Emily (smut/fluff)

That 70s show

Steven Hyde (smut/fluff)

Eric Forman (smut/fluff)

Jackie Burkheart (smut/fluff)

Michael Kelso (smut/fluff)

Fez (probably just fluff)

Donna Pincioti (smut/fluff)

Divergent

Tris Prior (smut/fluff)

Caleb Prior (smut/fluff)

Tobias Eaton (four) (smut/fluff)

Christina (smut/fluff)

Eric (smut/fluff)

Chucky (the series)

Junior Wheeler (fluff)

Jake Wheeler (fluffy malexmale only)

Lexy Cross (fluff)

Devon Evans (fluff)

Tiffany / Jennifer Tilly (smut/fluff)

The sandlot

Benny Rodriguez (fluff)

Scott Smalls (fluff)

Michael Palledorous (fluff)

Hamilton Porter (fluff)

Alan “yeah-yeah” Mcclean (fluff)

Bertram Grover Weeks (fluff)

Wendy Peffercorn (fluff)

Kenny Denunez (fluff)

Fear Street

Simon Kalivoda (smut/fluff)

Deena (smut/fluff femalexfemale only)

Kate Schmidt (smut/fluff)

Josh (fluff)

Heather (smut/fluff)

Cindy Berman (smut/fluff)

Ziggy Berman (fluff)

Tommy Slater (smut/fluff)

Nick Goode (smut/fluff)

Descendents

Harry Hook (smut/fluff)

Mal (fluff)

Evie (fluff)

Jay (fluff)

Carlos (fluff)

Ben (fluff)

Uma (fluff)

Gil Gaston (fluff)

Jane (fluff)

Audrey (fluff)

The Breakfast Club

John Bender (smut/fluffish)

Andrew Clark (smut/fluff)

Brian Johnson (smut/fluff)

Claire Standish (smut/fluff)

Allison Reynolds (smut/fluff)

Mean Girls

Karen Smith (smut/fluff)

Gretchen Weiners (smut/fluff)

Regina George (smut/fluff)

Janis Ian (smut/fluff)

Kady Heron (smut/fluff)

The Hunger Games

Peeta Mellark (smut/fluff)

Gale Hawthorn (smut/fluff)

Finnick Odair (smut/fluff)

Cinna (smut/fluff)

Katniss Everdeen (smut/fluff)

Glimmer (smut/fluff)

Clove (fluff)

Cato (smut)

Finch (fox face) (smut/fluff)

Any others ask and I’ll tell you what I write

Shameless

Fiona Gallagher (smut/fluff)

Lip Gallagher (smut/fluff)

Ian Gallagher (smut/fluff)

Carl Gallagher (smut/fluff)

Debbie Gallagher (smut/fluff)

Mickey Milkovitch /(smut/fluff)

Mandy Milkovitch (smut /fluff)

Kevin Ball (smut/fluff)

Veronica Fisher (smut/fluff)

Scream

Billy Loomis (smut/fluff)

Stu Macher (smut/fluff)

Sydney Prescott (smut/fluff)

Tatum Riley (smut/fluff)

Randy Meeks (smut/fluff)

Dewy Riley (smut/fluff)

Gale Weathers (smut/fluff)

Charlie Walker (smut/fluff)

Jill Roberts (smut/fluff)

Amber (smut/fluff)

Chad Minks (smut/fluff)

Mindy Minks (smut/fluff)

Sam Loomis ? (smut/fluff)

Outerbanks

JJ Maybank (smut/fluff)

Pope Hayward (smut/fluff)

Sarah Cameron (smut/fluff)

Kiera (smut/fluff)

John B (smut/fluff)

Rafe Camron

Twilight

Edward Cullen (smut/fluff)

Jasper Hale (smut/fluff)

Emmet Cullen (smut/fluff)

Carlisle Cullen (smut/fluff)

Jacob Black (smut/fluff)

Seth Clearwater (fluff)

Charlie Swan (smut/fluff)

Bella Swan (smut/fluff)

Rosalie Hale (smut/fluff)

Alice Cullen (smut/fluff)

Esme Cullen (smut/fluff)

Lea Clearwater (smut/fluff)

Mauraders

Regulus Black (smut/fluff)

Sirius Black (smut/fluff)

James Potter (smut/fluff)

Lily Evans (smut/fluff)

Severus Snape (smut/fluff)

Remus Lupin (smut/fluff)

Peter Petigrew (smut/fluff)

Narcissa Black (smut/fluff)

Bellatrix Black (smut/fluff)

Pandora Lovegood (smut/fluff)

Barty Crouch JR (smut/fluff)

Evan Rosier (smut/fluff)

Marlene Mckenny (smut/fluff)

Riverdale

Cheryl Blossom (smut/fluff) femalexfemale only

Jughead Jones (smut/fluff)

Betty Cooper (smut/fluff)

Veronica Lodge (smut/fluff)

Archie Andrews (smut/fluff)

Tony Topaz (smut/fluff)

Sweet pea (smut/fluff)

Fangs Fogurty (smut/fluff)

I am not ok with this

Sydney (fluff)

Deena (fluff)

Stanley Barber (fluff)

That’s about it.

Cobra Kai

Eli Moskiwitz (hawke) (aged up smut/fluff)

Demetri (fluff)

Samatha Larusso (aged up smut/fluff)

Moon (aged up smut/fluff)

Yasmine (aged up smut/fluff)

Anthony Larusso (aged up smut/fluff)

Daniel Larusso (smut/fluff)

Johnny Lawrence (smut/fluff)

Tori (aged up smut/fluff)

Robby Keene (aged up smut/fluff)

The outsiders

Darry Curtis (smut/fluff)

Two-bit Matthews (smut/fluff)

Sodapop Curtis (smut/fluff)

Steve Randle (smut/fluff)

Dallas Winston (smut/fluff)

Johnny Cade (fluff)

Ponyboy Curtis (fluff)

Tim Shepheard (smut/fluff)

Curly Shepheard (smut/fluff)

Angela Shepheard (smut/fluff)

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner (smut/fluff)

Spencer Reid (smut/fluff)

Derek Morgan (smut/fluff)

David Rossi (smut/fluff)

Emily Prentiss (smut/fluff)

Jennifer Jaroue (smut/fluff)

Elle Greenaway (smut/fluff)

Penelope Garcia (smut/fluff)

The Originals

Klaus Mikaelson (smut/fluff)

Elijah Mikaelson (smut/fluff)

Kol Mikaelson (smut/fluff)

Rebekah Mikaelson (smut/fluff)

Freya Mikaelson (smut/fluff)

Hayley Marshall (smut/fluff)

Jackson (smut/fluff)

The Vampire Diaries

Elena Gilbert (smut/fluff)

Damon Salvatore (smut/fluff)

Bonnie Bennett (smut/fluff)

Stefan Salvatore (smut/fluff)

Caroline Forbes (smut/fluff)

Enzo St.John (smut/fluff)

Vicki Donovan (smut/fluff)

Matt Donovan (smut/fluff)

Katherine Pierce (smut/fluff)

Tyler Lockwood (smut/fluff)

Anyone else requested I’ll tell you what I write for! XX

IT

Henry Bowers (smut/fluff)

Belch Huggins (smut/fluff)

Patrick Hockstetter (smut/fluff)

Victor Criss (smut/fluff)

(Older) Richie Tozier (smut/fluff)

(Older) Eddie Kaspbrak (smut/fluff)

(Older) Bill Debrough (smut/fluff)

(Older) Stanley Uris (smut/fluff)

(Older) Beverly Marsh (smut/fluff)

(Older) Ben Hanscome (smut/fluff)

(Older) Mike Hanlon (smut/fluff)

Friends

Chandler Bing (smut/fluff)

Rachel Green (smut/fluff)

Joey Tribiani (smut/fluff)

Monica Geller Bing (smut/fluff)

Ross Geller (smut/fluff)

Phoebe Buffay (smut/fluff)

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington (smut/fluff)

Eddie Munson (smut/fluff)

Jonathan Byers (smut/fluff)

Argyle (smut/fluff)

Billy Hargrove (smut/fluff)

Nancy Wheeler (smut/fluff)

Robin Buckley (smut/fluff)

Chrissy Cunningham (smut/fluff)

Anyone else will be fluff !

Sam and Colby

Sam Golbach (smut/fluff)

Colby Brock (smut/fluff)

Jake Webber (smut/fluff)

Reggie Webber (smut/fluff)

Kevin Langue (smut/fluff)

MIKE (smut/fluff)

Ariya (smut/fluff)

Corey schere (smut/fluff)

Katrina Stuart (smut/fluff)

Tara Yummy (smut/fluff)

Zephyr Wolf (smut/fluff)

Devyn Lundy (smut/fluff)

Cassie (smut/fluff)

The walking dead

Glenn Rhee (smut/fluff)

Rick Grimes (smut/fluff)

Daryl Dixion (smut/fluff)

Negan Smith (smut/fluff)

Maggie Rhee (smut/fluff)

Michonne (smut/fluff)

Carl Grimes (some smut aged up ofc/fluff )

South Park (all aged up ofc)

Kenny McCormick (fluff/smut)

Stan marsh (fluff/smut)

Kyle Broflovski (smut/fluff)

Eric Cartman (ig I’ll do smut or fluff)

Michael (the goth kid) (anything)

Basically anyone as long as it’s not them as children for smut

And I’ll do anything for euphoria (minus Nate) and Harry Potter (mostly fluff) and I will do anything for the walking dead !! :))

(Please no incest, zoophilia stuff)

[in-a-daddy-state-of-mind]

The Devil in Disguise || Part II

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader

Summary: After months of dancing around each other, Eddie and you finally go on a date

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: SMUT, both Eddie and reader at 18+ in this, mentions of suicide attempt, let me know if you catch anything else

Notes: This is is a two parter but can be read as a stand alone. If you want to read PART I, it also accompanies it. There are references to both The Breakfast Club and Hair in this but you should be able to get it even if you are not familiar with those. Still highly recommend them if you haven’t come across it before. As always feedback and interactions are highly appreciated.

Your date with Eddie started with you two picking up to-go burgers and shakes at the local burger joint and driving to Family Video to get into an argument about what to rent out as Steve rolled his eyes behind the counter.

“I just cannot believe you’ve never watched The Breakfast Club!” You say to him as you pick the VHS from the shelf.

“I’m not watching that John Hughes crap. Not sure if you’ve looked at me, sweetheart, but I’m not exactly the rom com type of guy.” Eddie shoots back waving a copy of Nightmare on Elm Street in front of your face.

“This isn’t rom com.” You say as you swat his hand away.

“It has Molly Ringwald in it. It’s rom com.”

“It isn’t! It’s about the teenage experience. Trust me there’s this character in it that is absolutely you.”

With a deep sigh Eddie mutters a fine under his breath and heads towards the counter with the tape on hand.

“You finally stopped bickering?” Steve says taking the tape from Eddie’s hand “Ah, she’s forcing you to watch it too, huh?”

“You made him go through this also?” Eddie questions looking at you nod.

“Hey, what can I say, man? It’s a good movie.” Steve admits while working the register.

“You gotta be kidding me, Harrington.”

“Turns out the guy knows his shit! They kind of nailed me down perfectly in this one.” Steve argues giving you back the tape.

“See?!” You say triumphantly.

Eddie just grabs the tape from Steve’s hand and heads towards the door.

“You’re the best Andrew I know!” You scream to Steve before leaving the store and heading to Eddie’s van.

The evening went better than you could have expected. Once you made it to the trailer that was at this point well known to you, you two put on the movie and each devoured their own burgers. Once you were done with dinner Eddie sheepishly put his arm around you and brought you closer to him.

“Is this okay?” He asked with uncertainty in his tone.

“It’s perfect.”

The way you looked at him would make any man lose his damn mind. It was like he was your entire world and you could tell him that with just your eyes. Your pretty, wonderful, deep eyes.

Every second he had you in his arms and you cuddled closer to him Eddie cursed himself for not doing this sooner. You made him feel warm in a way no one had ever done before. Fuck was he in trouble with you.

Soon enough Don’t Forget About Me was echoing in the trailer walls and the credits rolled over the image of Judd Nelson waving his fist in the air. You looked at Eddie expectantly as he just stared ahead into the screen not saying a word.

“I stand corrected. That was a really fucking good movie.”

“I TOLD YOU SO!” You yelled in victory.

“They kind of nailed me down in one with Bender. I mean white trash problem child who’s kind of metal?”

“Absolutely. You. What did I say?” You emphatically said almost vibrating in the couch as Eddie laughed.

“Well, I’m not the only one, princess. They got you pretty good with Claire.”

As soon as Eddie said that you almost fell over into the couch with disbelief. Maybe an exaggerated reaction but, hey, you were a theatre kid after all.

“You think I’m Claire?” You ask voice dripping with judgement.

“Hm, yeah. Prissy little popular girl who has a thing for the bad boy.” Eddie replied as if it was obvious motioning towards himself.

“YOU THINK I’M POPULAR? Eddie, I’m friends with the theatre and band kids. Popular and me do not go in the same sentence.”

“Oh please, you’re best friends with Steve “The Hair” Harrington. Might I remind you he used to rule Hawkins High?”

“Only because Steve and I have been friends since we were kids! He would not have given me the time of day had we met in high school.” You said giving a brief pause before realizing “Also you fucked Steve Harrington!”

“And you fucked Billy Hargrove!” Eddie shoots back immediately.

“EVERYONE fucked Billy. If we are using that as a measure of popularity half of the student body would be popular.” You say exasperated as Eddie laughs and whispers a “that’s true” under his breath “Point is: I am DEFINITELY not popular. The only people below me in social status happens to be you and my brother.”

“Ouch! I’m wounded!” Eddie exclaims dramatically faking hurt.

You two laugh together for a second before Eddie speaks up again.

“Okay, who are you then?”

“Brian.” You say casually “Makes sense doesn’t it? Little preppy nerd who has way too much pressure on them. Doesn’t really know how to handle it. Kind of just wants to start smoking weed with the cool kids and say fuck it to it all.”

“Yeah, after he tries to shoot himself.” Eddie points out staring at you concerned.

“Yeah.”

Silence falls over you both for a second as your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. Goddamn you shouldn’t have said anything. That was so fucking stupid. What are you doing?

“Hey, come on. Date’s not over yet.” Eddie says pulling you away from your panic.

He grabs your hand pulling you from the couch and grabs a blanket in his other arm. You follow behind him as he guides you both out of the trailer and chucks the blanket on top of it. He once again guides you to a small ladder perched on the top of the trailer gently helping you climb to the top of the trailer before doing it himself.

Once you are both on the top of the mobile home, Eddie extends the blanket on the ground and lays on it motioning for you to cuddle next to him which you gladly do. You two stay like that staring up at the sky in silence for a second.

Your mind is still racing. You don’t know what to say. This is always your problem, you open up too easily to people and you run your mouth. You don’t know when to shut up so you spill out something that makes people uncomfortable and they never want to talk to you. Just when things were going right with Eddie you had to fucking ruin-

“I kind of lied to you, you know?” Eddie says once again pulling you away from your thoughts almost as if he could see you spiraling.

“What?”

“When I said I only remembered you from English class and being Henderson’s sister? I lied. I was way too embarrassed to admit the truth.”

“Which was?” You prod gently not wanting to push him too much.

“I actually saw you in the school musical last year. I went because of some extra credit or some shit when I was still hoping I would be able to graduate that year. I was not excited at all, I thought I was going to hate it, but then you guys all came out in those fucking hippie outfits-“

“Yeah, we were doing Hair.” You interrupted.

“I know! I was there! Can you let me finish the story? Jesus, you and your brother are the same.” Eddie commented making you chuckle.

“Anyway, as I was saying, musical was weird as shit but also kind of badass? And then you came out in that fucking solo? And god you killed it. You have a beautiful fucking voice and I was completely enchanted.”

Eddie pauses and turns to look over at you. That look he gives you… You log it in your brain to make sure you would never forget the way Eddie Munson’s eyes looked right then.

“I should have asked you out then, but you know, it’s already established I’m a coward.” He said quietly.

You didn’t know what to say. Your anxiety was somehow completely forgotten and the only thing on your mind was how you had been on Eddie Munson’s radar for a whole year and you were missing out.

“Would it be too bold of me to ask if you kiss on the first date?” You blurted out almost against your better judgment.

Eddie opened a smile at that not believing his luck.

“It absolutely wouldn’t.”

Before you could even react Eddie’s lips were on you and you were soaring. His lips were soft and he was very careful at first before you kissed back. In what it seemed like a second you were melting into each other as if you were both made for this. Your hands found its way into his hair and his to your waist grabbing onto you like his life depended on it. You felt his tongue graze your bottom lips as you tried to get as close to him as possible flushing your body against his. You lightly pulled at Eddie’s bottom lip with your teeth and he immediately pulls away from you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, we have to stop.” He says immediately still not taking his hands away from your waist.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask your voice dripping with worry.

“God, no. You did everything very much right, it’s just that if we keep going I will not be able to hold myself back and I do not want to fuck you the first time we go out together.” Eddie admits seeing your face turn bright red at his confession. “You deserve better than that.”

“Okay.” You respond sheepishly. “Does that mean you want to go out with me more times?”

Eddie breaks into a laugh. You would absolutely be the death of him.

“Yeah. I would love that.” He replies unable to hold himself before planting another kiss on your lips.

You had been going out with Eddie for a while now when you show up to the front of the trailer knocking on his door excitedly. Thankfully Eddie was there and came to the door.

“I have a gift for you.” You announced as soon as the door opened.

“Lucky me. What is it?”

You happily take a cassette tape sized package from behind your back and present it to him. Eddie takes it and tries to unwrap it as carefully as possible before giving up and just tearing it open. And there it is: a cassette tape for the musical Hair.

“You know you said that’s where you first met me so when I saw it at the store I just thought I had to get it for you-“

Eddie interrupted you by drawing your lips together in a sweet kiss. People didn’t give him gifts. He never had someone he was romantically interested in do this to him and the fact you did made his heart flutter. To think you would think of him at the record store… The emotions that arose in Eddie were hard for him to describe.

“I love it. Thank you.” He finally said breaking the kiss. “Would you perhaps like to come inside and listen to it together?”

You accepted and made your way into the familiar trailer and to Eddie’s room. That’s when your pulse picked up. You had been alone with Eddie multiple times at this point but never fully alone. And in his room. It’s not that you didn’t want anything to happen. On the contrary you very much wanted it. Maybe a bit too much.

He moved to the cassette player and imputed the new tape. Once Eddie turned he saw you awkwardly standing in the middle of the room like a deer in headlights.

“Are you okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah! Totally!”

You didn’t sound very convincing but he decided not to push on it. Eddie guided you to sit on his bed. At first you were sitting fully straight with your muscles clenched, but by the time that Hashish came on you were already laying down next to Eddie mumbling the songs along. No one made you feel more at home than the men laying next to you. Kind of like magic he managed to break through all your defenses and just made you feel at ease without even needing to pull out his “product” as he liked to call it.

The two of you laid on the bed and sang to each other. Eddie didn’t know the songs so he would dramatically mouth some of them to you making you laugh. You had to be honest with yourself you were falling hopelessly in love with him. This metalhead that nonetheless was happy to just be with you and listen to show tunes of all things.

That was when I Believe in Love came on. It was your song so you gladly sang along to the whole thing still knowing the lyrics from when you performed it at school. Differently from the other ones where Eddie would mumble along or try to do a bit he was almost eerily quiet while you did. The song came to an end and you were anxious to know if you had messed up and come across as a show-off. However, you didn’t have much time to wallow in your anxiety before Eddie was desperately attacking your lips.

“God, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” He said between kisses continuing to devour your lips.

Eddie kissed you like a man starved. Fuck, if singing was all you needed to do to get this reaction you would have done it sooner. Before you could even realize it Eddie was laying on top of you and a moan from deep inside you made its way to your shared lips. He immediately stopped and the usual anxiety creeped up on you.

“Sweetheart, I need you to let me know if this is what you really want because I am so horny right now and I will not be able to stop if we keep going.” Eddie said in a horse voice that immediately got to you.

“This is exactly what I want.” You let out without needing a moment to think.

With the permission, Eddie immediately begins attacking your neck, sucking and biting only to alleviate it with his tongue. You grab onto his shoulders as if you were clinging for your life and it elicits a deep groan from Eddie. This man would be the death of you. He quickly grabs the bottom of your shirt and yanks it off of you throwing it to a corner of the room only to be found later. You follow his lead doing the same and you both take a moment to admire each other’s body. It wasn’t like Eddie had a six pack but fuck was he fit. And the tattoos spread around his torso were simply enchanting. You wanted to touch every part of him with your lips.

You didn’t have much more time to think before Eddie was yanking the rest of your clothes off leaving you bare for him to see. He stopped for a minute just admiring your body.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m not like a model or anything.” You immediately say trying to make up for what you think is a less than ideal body you inhabit.

“None of that shit coming from you. Your body is fucking beautiful, babe. I could sit here and just look at you all day.” Eddie replies back making you open a smile.

The moment is short lived before he proceeds to kiss down your neck and make his way to your tits. He immediately sucks on your left breast playing with the other in his hands. God fucking damn it, why was this so good? You had had experience before but if this was going to continue this way, you were sure Eddie would soon become the best lay you ever had.

After giving your breasts enough attention, Eddie continued his path down your stomach until he finally reached your hip bone and stopped looking up at you with an almost wicked smile.

“Last chance, baby girl, are we doing this?” He asks looking at you expectantly.

You can only nod at him, not trusting yourself with words at the moment.

“Great, because I have been dreaming about tasting your pussy.” Is the last thing Eddie says before wrapping his lips around your clit and deliciously sucking on it.

You can feel Eddies tongue against your most intimate parts and you have to wonder how he got this good at it. The sounds of him eating you out fill the room only battling with your own moans to dominate the quiet environment of the trailer. You grip the sheets desperately as Eddie’s tongue makes it’s way inside you, beautifully alternating between sucking on your clit and licking into your cunt.

“Fuck, Eddie, right there.” You almost scream as he hits a sensitive spot in you that makes you almost see stars.

The coil in your lower stomach begins to tighten in a sentiment familiar to you but unfortunately unusual in your encounters with men. As Eddie continues what could only be described as devouring your pussy, you feel the damn break and your orgasm rips through you as you let out a particularly loud moan.

“Damn, sweetheart, you’re going to wake up the entire trailer park like that.” Eddie says lifting himself up with the evidence of your arousal on his cheeks.

You notice he didn’t reprimand you for the screaming. On the contrary, he seemed almost proud of it. Proud of the way he could make you feel. This man would be the death of you.

“Fuck, Eds, that was-“ You begin saying but are quickly interrupted by Eddie’s lips crashing against yours once again.

“Was?” He questions as he breaks away from you. “You didn’t think we were done did you?”

You look into his eyes and you see a ferocity in them you had never witnessed in Eddie before.

“No, sweetheart, this doesn’t end until I am ramming into you and you are cumming on my cock.”

With that Eddie pulled his cock out of his pants and you only had a brief moment to appreciate it before he was plunging into you. You both moan together at the feeling of Eddie stretching you. He briefly stops to adjust himself inside you.

“Jesus, Henderson, you are so tight.” He says almost sounding out of breath.

“And you are huge, Munson. So I guess we’re even.” You quip back almost unable to believe you could both joke at a moment like this. Yet this is what made the two of you so great together.

Slowly, Eddie began thrusting into you. He increased the pace with each thrust moaning right next to your ear in a combination that made you drip. Soon enough your own moans were mixing with his filling the trailer with the sounds of your pleasure.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I have dreamed of this so many times but I couldn’t imagine how amazing it would actually feel.” Eddie whispers against your ear.

He then begins to suck on your neck overloading your senses with all of him. You feel your entire bodies connected and you can’t even think. The only thing crossing your mind is Eddie and everything he is doing to you now.

Eddie stops his attack on your neck but before you can protest his hand joins him in the most intimate part of you applying the right amount of pressure to your clit that makes you feel your orgasm quickly beginning to build inside you.

“Fuck, Eds, keep this up and I’m gonna cum soon.” You say.

That brings a devilish smile to Eddie’s lips. He lowers himself next to your ear.

“You don’t cum until I tell you to, got it?” He whispers and begins a relentless pace that has your head spinning.

Fuck, you could feel your orgasm ready to rip through you but you hold it with every force in your body. Your hands attach themselves to Eddie’s shoulder leaving what would surely be marks of your nails digging into him. That makes him moan louder and become more brutal in his ministration.

You feel the pace of Eddie’s thrusts faulting into you and you are sure he has to be close to his own orgasm.

“Cum for me.” He finally says.

You feel the orgasm making its way through your whole body as you moan loudly once again in the same afternoon. You can barely think but you hear Eddie moan loudly also and feel him humming with you as his thrusts become erratic riding you through both your orgasms.

Once you both have calmed down, Eddie falls on top of you breathing heavily. Fuck, that was… intense. And wonderful. And you wanted more of it in your life.

“How was that?” Eddie asks taking himself away from you in a sensation that leaves you feeling almost empty.

“Do you have to ask?” You ask back with a laugh.

It was cute that he was insecure but honestly he really didn’t have to be. That was the hardest you had ever orgasmed in your life. He opened a proud smile and wraps his arms around you.

“So I’m guessing this can be an activity we repeat?” Eddie questions shyly.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” You say kissing him softly.

You look up at Eddie and he is almost glowing. The look he gives you is of a man completely enamored and you can’t believe that this feeling is directed toward you. That anyone could look at you that way. In that moment you feel so loved that you can’t help what escapes your lips.

“Eddie, I love you.”

There is a moment of silence that makes your heart stop in its tracks. Fuck, did you just ruin it?

“I love you too.” Eddie says before his lips are once again crashing into yours in a kiss that is delicate but full of passion.

You couldn’t believe your luck. You couldn’t believe this incredible man that you got to call your boyfriend. And in that moment you were truly happy.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie my beloved #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #+18 or +adult only #dating eddie munson

[mattsturniolosmuse]

Welcome

Hey guys! My name is Nicky, my pronouns are she/her. I am 18 years old and I am from Germany. My favourite colour is green.

I love so many movies, the main ones being:

The Outsiders (Fav character is Johnny Cade)

The Breakfast Club (Fav character is John Bender)

Good Burger (Fav character is Ed)

Shameless (Fav character is Ian Gallagher)

Percy Jackson and the Olympians (Fav character is Luke Castellan)

The Summer I Turned Pretty (Fav character is Cam Cameron)

Heartbreak High (Fav character is Ca$h)

You may request things! I right for all the shows/movies said above; for more options, go and check my requests steps/rules.

I will not write:

Incest

Stepcest

Rape

Anything homophobic, racist, sexist, etc.

I will write:

Fluff

Angst

Smut

Lemons

Limes

Thank you guys! I hope you give me some requests! I will do my best to complete them within the week you send them.

#request #theoutsiders #heartbreakhigh #shameless #pjo

[thewrittingratt]

Jo here with the Rules For Requesting!

Things I won't write

homophobia, Transphobia, anything hateful to the lgbtq community

smut(just a personal preference as writing it makes me uncomfy)

Requesting x oc

things to include in your request

the show/movie universe the request takes place in

what they look

their lifestyle

their personality

if it's romantic or platonic

who you are shipping them with(can be multiple characters) or who they are friends with(if it's for a platonic request)

Requesting X Reader

the show/movie universe it takes place

if its romantic or platonic

who they are being shipped with(can be multiple characters) or who they are friends with(if it's for a platonic request)

Fandoms and characters to request from

DC

Arkhamverse

The Batman 2022

Suicide Squad movies

Stranger Things

Jonathan Byers

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Eddie Munson

One Piece Live Action

Buggy

Shanks

Zoro

Sanji

Slashers

Norman Bates

Otis Driftwood

Brahms Heelshire

Bubba Sawyer

Chop Top Sawyer

Stu Macher

Charles Lee Ray

The Lost Boys

Art The Clown

Thomas Hewitt

Stardew Valley

Shane

Sam

Sebastian

Alex

Harvey

Elliott

Emily

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Jake Peralta

Charles Boyle

The Umbrella Academy

Luther

Klaus

Diego

Ben

Marcus

Alphonso

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

Crowley

Jack Kline

Gabriel

Scooby Gang

Fred Jones

Shaggy Rogers

Scooby-Doo 2002 and 2004 Movies

What's New Scooby-Doo?

Mystery Incorporated

Basically all the animated 2010s movies

Spiderman ATSV

Hobbie Brown(SpiderPunk)

Pavitr Prabhakar(SpiderMan)

Johnathon Ohnn(The Spot)

Patrick O'Hara(Web-Slinger)

Ben Riley(Scarlet Spider)

Spider Noir

Extra Characters

John Bender(The Breakfast Club)

Andrew Clark(The Breakfast Club)

Brian Johnson(The Breakfast Club)

Beetlejuice(BeetleJuice)

Cameron Frye(Ferris Bueller's Day Off)

!!!

If a fandom or character you would like to request for is not listed feel free to request for that character or fandom anyway and I'll see what I can do!

#x oc #x reader #dc x reader #dc x oc #stranger things x reader #stranger things x oc #opla x reader #opla x oc #slashers x reader #slashers x oc #stardew valley x reader #stardewvalley x oc #brooklyn 99 x reader #brooklyn 99 x oc #the umbrella academy x reader x #the umbrella academy x oc #supernatural x reader #supernatural x oc #scooby gang x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv xoc #the breakfast club x reader #the breakfast club x oc #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x oc #cameron frye x reader

[2braincellslz]

⚠️Request are not guaranteed⚠️

Request junk:

So heres what is will and wont write:

Will:

Fluff

Angst

Oneshots

Long storys

Aus

Headcanons

Y/n

Ships

Will nots:

Smut (for now atlest)

Really just smut

Fandoms:

Ace Attorney:

Pheonix wright

Miles edgeworth

Dick Gumshoe

Maya fey

Franziska Von Karma

Slashers:

Michael Myers

Jason Vorhees*

Brahms heelshire

Billy lenz

Bubba *

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Stranger things:

Steve Harrington

Eddie munson

Hopper (as a father figure)

The kids (no shipping tho)

Billy hargove

Lexi*

Marvel:

Captain America

Bucky barns

Iron man

Peter parker

Dr. Strange

Thor

Widowmaker

Quick sliver (age of Ultron)

Wanda *

Peaky blinders:

Thomas Shelby

Arther Shelby

Finn shelby

Ada shelby

(I can't remember the rest of the names lmao)

The sandman:

The Corinthian (gay only)

Morpheus

Satan

Death

Spiderman:

Spider man

Harry Osbourne

Otto octavius

Norman Osborne

MJ

The breakfast club:

John Bender (the criminal)

Claire (the queen)

Andrew (the jock)

Brian (the brian)

Allison (the basket case)

Game of thrones:

Robb stark

Theon Greyjoy

Jon snow

Little finger

The other guys lmao

Witcher:

Jaskier

Geralt

Yennifer

Others and such

Other-

Characters from Nightmare Before Christmas

Characters from Corpse Bride

Jack sparrow

Also i can write fanfic with your oc.

If there is a character you want (from a completely different fandom or one of the ones listed) then dont be afraid to ask!

When you send in a ask, do be sure to specify if you want male, female, or GN. (And for the dsmp characters tell me if you wan c! Or cc!)

*I dont really know all that much about them

#billy hargrove x male reader #billy hargrove #billy lenz #slasher x reader #slasher x male reader #stranger thing x reader #stranger things x male reader #requests #stranger things ships #marvel #the breakfast club fanfic #the sandman #thw sandman fanfic #the breakfast club #Spiderman #got fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #ace attorney #the witcher

[prpfs]

📼 80s movies have captivated me (21+) yet again, so i’m hoping to write the breakfast club! i’m looking to write as brian johnson against john bender as a romantic pairing! i’m fine with dark themes, and would like to include smut in this rp!

i’m kind of obsessed with these two rn and the dynamic that could form between them! i’m up for all sorts of things, though i am quite interested in a runaways plot as of now! other ideas are very welcome! i write on discord, but might be able to write other places! if you’re interested, leave a like!

like if you're interested and op will get back to you

#the breakfast club rp #fandom rp #fandom roleplay #dead dove