#there are people already through not just v but the extra shit and it's so easy for them

[thingswhatareawesome]

¨

[gojoest]

MDNI, sukugo x f! reader (established throuple), she/her pronouns used, true form sukuna, unprotected sex (p in v), brief mention of oral (f receiving), thigh fucking (sukuna @ satoru), petnames (satoru calls you baby once i think, didn’t proofread sry), wc: 1.2k+

no plot just sukuna holding you for satoru to fuck + thigh fucking satoru with one of his cocks bc they make me ill

this thing between the three of you...

it made little sense to those around. when the word got out that you were involved, people started fearing you too. it raised many questions, among which you were the biggest one. in their eyes you were a being too peculiar and far more intimidating than you looked it, for having tamed the two most powerful forces mankind had ever known — the two strongest in the entire history of curses and sorcerers.

not long ago gojo satoru and ryomen sukuna were out for each other’s blood, but now you had them nicely wrapped around your finger. or vice versa, they had you nicely wrapped around their cocks.

there was no logical explanation to how you made this work, only that it just somehow did.

and it made so much sense when you fucked.

the otherwise chaotic duo was surprisingly in sync when they took turns on you and fucked you senseless, until you were reduced to a shaking, stuttering mess.

they always fell on you like starved animals. while one was taking off your clothes, the other was kissing every bit of skin that got exposed.

“more gently”, a low grunt erupted from satoru’s throat (directed at sukuna) while he gave a few extra pumps to his cock before entering you. his tip grazing against your folds, sliding up and down to spread your slick, making you bite your lips through a hiss. “hold her more gently, you’re going to bruise her”, he warned again.

“tch”, sukuna clicked his tongue, “don’t boss me around when i’m holding her for you to fuck”

despite the protest, he softened his grip. although just by bit.

“no need to be so sour now, big boy. you know the rules — if you eat first, you get to fuck last”, satoru grinned teasingly, reminding him why he was in this position in the first place.

under regular circumstances, neither of them would follow rules, it just did not align with their nature. but when it came to you, they were both very cooperative and diligent so long they got to fuck the pretty little thing that you were. as much as they wanted to penetrate you simultaneously and compare dick sizes inside your cunt in real time to see whose would reach further and deeper, they knew they had to take turns on you. there was no other way — those cocks were too massive for your pussy to fit them both.

today sukuna had his way with you first. he devoured you hungrily with both of his mouths. alternating between your cunt and your face every few minutes, to steal kisses and let you taste yourself on his lips while the tongue on his belly kept lapping on your folds.

“be quick, as you always are”, sukuna mocked with a smug grin.

he had you still and steady over his groin as he stood tall in the middle of the room, your back pressed against his chest as his four arms held your legs open for the whitehaired man to have his way with you. a pair of hands clutching you from under your knees, and the other — spreading your pussy lips apart, enough to make your hole gasp open for the cock in front of you.

“fuck, so pretty”, an eager growl dragged out of satoru’s lips as he prodded his cockhead at your entrance, arousal spurting out of your cunt as your muscles flexed and tightened in seek of deeper friction. “shit, that was so hot”, he breathed.

so slick and sopping, you were already sucking him in with such ease when he pressed his tip against your hole that his hips jerked and bucked forward, involuntarily inserting a few inches of himself in you. “nghh, ‘toru, m-more—”, you mewled agonizingly when he stopped midway in his tracks. he wasn’t ready to enter fully yet, but call it muscle memory the way his hips moved on their own back there. “oh god, baby, you are so fucking wet”

“right?”, sukuna grinned. “it’s me who made her like that���, his hands released your pussy lips and traced across the small of satoru’s back, rolling down further to grab a handful of his ass — “go bask in her, brat” — and forcefully slammed him into you until he completely bottomed out. “when she asks for more, you give her. now move — or do you need my help there too?”

“shit, don’t just do that”, satoru cursed through a throaty cry, eyes squeezed shut as his head fell on your chest. that jerk…

he needed a few moments before he could start moving, just to adjust, to adapt to the way you clenched your walls around him. it was the fact that you felt too good and squeezed too much that often made him cum too soon. but right now, he was in a bit of a more serious bind as sukuna’s second cock, sticking out like a branch from under your spread ass cheeks, was tickling and pressing against his balls — it was too much to handle all at once.

fuck, fuck, fuck. he was too sensitive.

the position was perfect for both of sukuna’s cocks to be humped and stimulated at the same time — with one of them squished between your back and his belly, and the other — prodding in between satoru’s thighs. all he needed was the friction, and the only one who could give it to him was satoru. “come on now, be a good boy — move”, sukuna coaxed, peppering soft kisses on your shoulder from behind. his eyes glued on the man before him as his lips left wet trails on your skin. “she’s waiting”, cooing sweetly.

and you — you enticed him too, wrapping arms around his shoulders and pulling him in — “come on, baby. fuck me, hard” — you whispered needily before planting a kiss on his mouth that he, on the other hand, grew into a smile.

satoru’s lips curled up knowingly, aware of the hidden agenda behind the request coming from the both of you. sly, greedy lovers, he thought internally. you probably had that schemed during your earlier makeout sesh. he could feel the pulse of sukuna’s massive cock throb against his inner thighs along with the heartbeat of your clit pressed on his lower abdomen, mixing in together until he couldn’t tell which one belonged to who anymore. it made the blood in his groin boil, sizzle even more.

he leaned in closer again, kissing you first, then stretching his neck over your shoulder to lock lips with sukuna. you had to admit, the sounds they made as they kissed each other were probably the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. the grunts, the moans, the whimpers, the muffled-up breathing as their mouths smashed together — right next to your ear, almost making the voices sound like they were in your head.

and just like that, satoru’s hips naturally started rocking back and forth, in a steady motion at first. just for the first few thrusts as a warm-up before he picked it up to a merciless pace in the blink of an eye. darting in and out of you in a quick, sharp flow of motions. pulling all the way out and slamming back in with full force, knocking the air out of you each time, making you arch that back to pressure the cock squished behind the small of it while his thighs remained clenched around the other cock as humanly possible, eliciting grunts of pleasure and obscenity from the man behind you…

he just had to fuck you very hard now, didn’t he? both of you, his two sly, greedy lovers that made him do all the work…

[willownwisp]

love on me

iv. you're exciting, boy come find me. (di!leon x fem reader)

author's note: yayyyyyy, fourth entry !

cw: NSFW MDNI. love hotels. p in v. oral (f receiving and m receiving).

part 4 of ree's leon valentine's advent

If he had been born under different circumstances, Leon swears he'd surely become a beach bum. Better an idle man rather than get smacked by bioweapons day in and night out, not only that, but have the top brass of good ol' U.S of A breathing down his neck constantly. Yet, he's a man who has seen things, he'd already vowed to protect whatever and whoever he can. Cold and cruel this life may be.

So he loves the warmth of the sun on him, lying down on a sun lounger sipping on dry drinks. Enjoy the view in the tropics of crystalline beaches and white sand on his feet, letting loose and relaxing himself.

Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights.

So here he is, you in hand, his cute girlfriend clinging onto his bicep like a bunny that hopped in excitement at every interesting thing you see because you're adorable to him like that.

You were extra flirty too, Leon had chalked it up to you being over the moon because you were finally in Japan after so long of dreaming it, he's smug and pleased with himself, he likes the good boyfriend brownie points, but you had other things in mind.

"Bunny, aren't you cold?"

Leon cocked his head to the side to take a look at you, in your skirt, crop top, and cardigan combo. He's not the type of man to control women and their clothing. Come on, don't people listen to Beyonce? Girls run the world. He doesn't really know who the fuck Beyonce is but he does know Sherry listens to the song.

"Nope."

You give him a cheeky grin, shaking your head.

"Besides, you'll warm me up anyway."

You say this with a wink as you both card through the busy streets of Tokyo as Leon gives you an innocent grin, oblivious to your intent.

"Of course I would bunny. I take care of my pretty girl."

He coos, before giving you a chaste kiss on your forehead, you giggle at how he missed your innuendo before smirking.

"I wanna go somewhere."

You reply as you slide your hand to lace both your fingers together, his calloused ones enveloping your own as you all but drag him to the busy streets.

You turn him around to an alley, google maps pulled up on your free hand as you show him, what seems to be a rather flashy building illuminated by red neon lights and blinged up signs. It was like the establishment wanted to be purposefully flamboyant.

"What am I looking at bunny?"

You flash him a toothy grin, Leon knows that glint of mischief in your eyes as you reply.

"A love hotel."

Leon is floored.

"A what now? A motel? Bunny, if you were horny I'd be hauling your ass back to the hotel room right now."

He breathes out, smoke escaping from his lips as he quirks an eyebrow at you, but you giggle.

"This is different!"

No shit.

Leon thinks inwardly as sapphire eyes scan the building once more. Motels for sex used to be inconspicuous during his time. He really is getting old.

"You wanna check in bunny?"

You nod your head quite excitedly with a huge grin on her face, there's no mistaking it. Your eagerness, and Leon relents. Of course you would want a vacation and his cock. No surprise there.

Leon sighs and squeezes your hand, being the gentleman that he is, leading you inside of the garish establishment. He'd be lyin g if he says he isn't the least bit interesting, you were always the more exciting and free-spirited one.

On the reception counter, he waits for the key, with you standing just beside him, hands still entwined. As Leon grew curious, you grew embarrassed. The lobby was decorated with red. Red hearts, mirrors, sensual posters, and oh god, the brochures on a nearby rack that had photos of toys and costumes

You're fairly aware that love hotels are popular, but now that you're gonna experience this for yourself, bashfulness and your own eagerness had you blushing.

Leon could see you, feel how you'd gone and overheated in his arms and you both aren't in the room yet. He chuckles, squeezing you. You got him going now, as a shiver runs down his spine.

"Are you interested in a specific suite? You can take a look on our brochure here."

The receptionist asks and Leon shakes his head.

"We're fine with anything."

The receptionist nods, handing Leon the key as he cooly leads you to the designated room. Despite his laidback demeanor, Leon is already briskly walking, adrenaline in his veins. As you both reached the designated room, he eases the key in the lock as it opens with a low clicking sound. He leads you inside first, following behind but not before locking the door while you turn the lights on. Another clicking sound, the lighting is a kind of low red and Leon blinks as he follows in, you both inspect the room with amusement and fascination. There inside the center of the room is a queen round bed, with a heart-shaped headboard, covered in satin sheets and what seems to be a confetti of hearts on the foot of the bead, even the pillows were heart-shaped, and the most ridiculous part were the mirrors. Everywhere. Mirrors on the wall, on the ceiling, mirrors of various  shapes and sizes at each of the walls. Red, heart-shaped lounge chairs and a faux tiger rug. Gaudy as the room is, it certainly looks like a place to fuck alright. 

Your eyes slowly adjust to the light, but you were beaten by Leon, who is certainly not the least bit captivated by the interior choices. He did, however, wanted to fuck you in it. He's already dropped his coat on the floor before proceeding to toss his shirt away as he stares at you with an amused smirk while you stood speechless.

"You embarrassed now?

He asks while putting his hands on your waist before turning you around to face him. Face his smug face smirking at you.

"Who? Me?"

You reply with a cocky tone.

"Nah."

You wink at him and he chuckles, he takes your hand pulling you to him as he strides to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Figures," he shrugs "You always wanna fuck me. Don't you, bunny?"

He coos before kissing your palms, your fingertips brush across his lower lip, and he kisses your fingertips one by one, the small act only making you shiver.

"Is that a problem?"

You ask him as that familiar warmth pools in your stomach, he had just finished unbuckling his belt and is now rubbing his hands on your thighs, before peeling your skirt off of you.

He gives you that same handsome grin, there was a sparkle in his eyes and you blush. You take off the rest of your upper clothing to help him before Leon pulls you to sit on his lap, his pretty bunny.

He presses his lips into yours in a sweet kiss, before sweeping his tongue on your lower lip, a cue to open your mouth, proceeding to stick his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you and you sink into his lap. The kiss a passionate tango and as you both part for air, his lips connects to yours with a thin strand of saliva. He swipes it with his thumb before chuckling.

"You're so fucking pretty."

He breathes out before lifting you up, only to place you gently on the bed. Leon's eyes roam over your voluptuous figure, smirking at the dampness on your underwear, he kneels down, peeling that last pesky article of clothing off of you, already admiring how swollen your clit is already.

"So fucking hot too."

He murmurs against your skin as he trails kisses on your ankle, your knees, and up your thighs.

Your breath hitches on your throat, you feel yourself soaking the sheets with every kiss.

Your blissed out face doesn't escape Leon and he smirks, he presses another kiss on your pelvis, before he presses a kiss on your clit. It was like a greeting, in his silly mind.  

His cold breath against fans against your skin before he takes a long, languid lick on your pussy.

Your hands immediately reach down to grip fistfuls of his dark hair, pulling him closer as he licked over your slit, lapping at your essence.

"Fuck, Leon."

You whimper, tossing your head back and Leon smirks against your pussy. He always liked seeing you coming undone with his mouth. His tongue dips into your entrance, the wet appendage flicking and curling inside you.

He presses his thumb on your clit while his mouth still worked on you, relishing in your sweet taste and breathy moans while you could only shut her eyes closed and sob his name helplessly. He doesn't let up, he pulls his tongue out to wrap your clit in his warm mouth and sucking it, inserting two fingers inside your sopping wet pussy. Scissoring and curling inside you while his tongue flicks and sucks on the hood of your clit. It doesn't take look that you gush around his fingers in an orgasm and he smirks. He let's you breath, admiring your flushed face as he stood up. Takes his boxers off and his thick cock springs out, already erect leaking with precum. He stands beside your face. "Suck."

Despite his domineering voice, he looks at you with soft eyes and you turn your body to his direction, you sit up on the bed. With a lick of your lips, your fingers trail over his abs, before your tongue sweeps across his slit, swiping it clean with his precum and he grunts, his body tensing in your touch.

"Fuck yeah."

He hisses through gritted teeth as your tongue swirls around the head before engulfing his dick with your mouth. You dip your head, swallowing him deeper as your hands grab his waits, until his length reaches the back of your throat, knowing he was looking, you don't break eye contact and you suck his cock, thick on your tongue and rolling your eyes while he looks.

"Shit, bunny. So pretty sucking cock like that."

Leon's voice is throaty and you know he likes what he sees, his dick practically jumped in your mouth and you moan. The vibrations make him shiver violently, and he grunts.

"Goddamn."

He breathes, patting your cheeks, A signal for you to stop and you peels yourself off him with a pout like he had just taken your favorite lollipop. Which is true, he is after all, your favorite lollipop.

"Don't be upset now. You suck cock so good, I won't last long."

You both laugh in unison as he breathes in to calm himself, while stroke his cock, he twirls a finger around.

"Turn around for me, bunny. On your fours if you wanna be good."

You hum in response, turning your back to bend over for him. You arch your back, with your ass perked up against him. In that moment, you understand why Leon wanted to fuck you from behind. The image of you bent over and him standing up, his dick plush on your ass is reflected in all of the mirrors on the walls and you let out a scandalized gasp while Leon only chuckles, sensing your embarrassment.

"Wanna see you moan while I pound you into that fucking mattress."

Leon winks at you from the mirror and you see his smug expression reflected everywhere. He kisses your ass cheeks, he's too horny out his damn mind now. He's inside you with one strong thrust, his thick cock all the way inside and he shuts his eyes close. Stilling for a moment to let you adjust to his sized as you close your eyes and whimper.

"Jesus Christ… no matter how many times I fuck this pussy."

He groans, sweeping his auburn strands before steadying his grip on your waist.

"It never gets used to me. Poor little thing."

The fullness makes you squirm and he savors the addictive feeling of your walls clenching on his cock desperate to get him to just fit. You're pressed against the mattress, your pathetic moans muffled by the sheets.

When he starts to thrust, finding that rhythm, your body jerks forward with every rock of his hips. His body moves to cover your own.

"Watch us baby."

He whispers, his tongue sweeping on the shell of your ear and you could only whimper. Clutching the sheets as he finds his rhythm with his hips rocking against yours.

"Look. Don't hide."

He raps before tugging on your hair to forcibly lift up your face while his free hand tug on your arms. You find yourself feeling small with Leon's muscular body covering you. The muscles on his arm flex as both his hands are now grabbing your arms and your hair. The way his muscles pulled and flexed as his hips slams against her ass, the way your ass bounced on him, the thin layer of sweat that coated his torso, the way his mouth hung open in ragged breaths, the way your breasts bounce at every thrust. You feel so turned on at the sight it was crazy. It looked so erotic. This only elicits louder moans from you, while you move back against him, meeting his thrusts.

"Shit!" Leon groans, clenching his jaw. This positions and rhythm was blowing his mind, coupled with how your face twists into pleasure and the heat that coiled in his stomach. This was so fucking hot, he really wouldn't last long.

"Come here" He whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder, before pulling out which makes you whine in displeasure. He chuckles, both his hands grab you, picking you up. Manhandling your ass to pin you down the mattress. "Shh," he coos. "Not done with you yet bunny."

He chuckles before kissing your nose, guiding himself back inside your pussy. You chuckle as you look at the mirror on the ceiling.

"You've always had a nice ass."

You tease, despite the breathlessness of your voice and Leon only cocks his head to the side in confusion before following your line of sight, remembering that there was a mirror atop the ceiling and he chuckles, a rush of desire running through his veins with the sight of tangled limbs.

"Yeah, so?" His tone full of sass as he smirks. "Jealous much?"

You laugh as he places his fingers under your jawline, bringing your face close before crashing his lips down yours in a sloppy kiss, before moving inside you again. His pace rougher and faster, cock slamming down your pussy like a freight train as you lock your legs around his waist tight, bringing him close before you bite down on his shoulder and Leon hisses a curse.

He peels your legs off of him first before hooking your legs above his shoulders. He growls, this position slips him in deeper, and you squeeze his cock tighter.

"Holy fucking shit!

He exclaims, it's no secret that you both are vocal in the bedroom. You both love verbally assuring each other that the pleasure is mutual, you were always the louder one, but this time it was Leon. Completely pussy whipped with every clench of your walls.

"Got me drunk on this tight fucking pussy."

He grunts and your hands reach out to grab his hips, slamming down on you rougher with every thrust. Your nails digging on the flesh of his waist and he moans. His jaw slacked, sweat dripping down.

"I'm gonna cum inside yeah? Gonna fill this tight pussy up for making me this rabid."

He laughs as his thrusts become erratic. He knows you're close, just like you know that he's close as well.

"Goddamn, got me addicted to pussy."

He moans and your toes curl as he slams into you one last time. His body tensing up, shooting ropes of his cum inside you as you both climax together.

"Yeah, bunny. So good for me. Creaming on this cock like a good girl."

He soothes you, kissing your forehead as you tremble beneath him in the intensity of your orgasm, he looks at you intently. Rubbing your body gently. Not pulling out yet as you gush around his cock.

"You're so pretty when you cum."

He hums. You both cuddle up for a minute to calm down before he pulls out.

Much to Leon's surprise, you whine.

"Lovey… don't pull out yet…"

Leon chuckles, pulling you into his arms to cradle your body.

"Yeah? Give me a minute. Have mercy on the lil guy."

You giggle softly, you were feeling fuzzy and the throbbing in your pussy suggests you were not fully sated yet, and with the way Leon looks at you like a hawk, he wants another too.

"There's nothing little about that."

You retort, giving his chest a little slip and he has a proud look on his face.

"Yeah? Maybe I'll compare it with those next time. Gonna use it on you."

He winks, pointing at the assortment of toys just neatly placed on the bedside table that went unnoticed in the heat of your lovemaking, as you both share a hearty laugh.

[f1haaland]

Hello, first, I love you Fernando Alonso imagine, second, could you do a Fernando one where it's your birthday and have no race during the week and takes advantage of this to spoil you during the week and ends with having sex on his yacht after a candlelight dinner

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 / 𝑭𝑨𝟏𝟒

pairing: sugar daddy!fernando alonso x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

author's note: i wasn't going to write this one now bc i have a couple of requests to write still, but it's my birthday week so it felt appropriate. happy birthday to me!

warnings: significant age gap (reader is 23, fernando is 41), pure filth, no plot just sex, unprotected sex btw, oral sex (female receiving), p in v, boat sex i guess but not really, NOT MEANT FOR MINORS

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators!! 🫶🏽

➜ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚 𝟏 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

this is a spin-off to this oneshot

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ༓  ༓ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

After 1 year together, things were working out amazing for you and Fernando. Surprisingly, not many people were judging your relationship, and the internet considered you his "controversial young girlfriend".

Your studies were doing great, your relationship couldn't be better, and you were living the life of your dreams.

Fernando had brought you to Monaco with him to celebrate your 23rd birthday. Of course, he had a home there, but you optioned to spend your special night with him on his brand-new yacht.

You had made him one simple request to him: "Do not buy me gifts." Fernando didn't took that very well, offended that he couldn't spoil the love of his life, but he did as you ordered. He had already planned a dinner for tonight, and in the morning you woke up to lots of different flowers in your room. He gets you new stuff all the time. You thought you don't an extra expensive souvenir just because you became a year older.

You wore a red dress and a ponytail, simple but chic, and just the way he liked. There wasn't a need to dress up for something made just for the two of you, but he enjoyed it when you made an effort to look nice just for him.

Blindfolded, he took you to the dock, where he had set a table dinner to candlelight for you. The dinner wasn't a surprise of course, but he had set the table all for himself just for you.

Dinner was going great, until...

"Shit!" You got startled by the loud sounds of explosions.

You turned your head to look behind you, as fireworks painted the skies in your favorite colors. You watched as hundreds of lights in drones flew over the sea, forming in different designs until they turned into the shape of a heart with your initials next to it. Fernando admired your surprised face with a huge grin on his own.

"Wait... is this for me?" You gasped at the realization, "Nano, you did this for me?"

"Everything I do is for you, mi amor" Fernando declared.

That was the biggest love gesture he has ever done for you. The first letter of your name was so big and bright in the sky you could bet the whole Monaco could see it. You hoped they could see just how much your man loved and worshiped you.

You never felt so turned on in your whole life.

You immediately forgot about the candlelight dinner. You got up and jumped in his lap. Fernando's hands gripped on your waist with his life, as your tongue battled with his in a wet and messy kiss. You bit his bottom lip and pulled between your teeth, making him groan hoarsely.

You worked your hips on top of his lap, moving forward and backwards, feeling his excitement start to grow beneath you. His palms slid down through your form until they reached your ass, grabbing it with such strength.

Fernando murmured against your skin, "What has gotten into you, corazón?"

He stood up, holding you to him. It didn't take long until you felt your body being tossed to the deck sofa.

"Don't ask, just fuck me" You begged, breathlessly.

You could have taken your dress, but the eagerness to be fucked screamed louder.

Fernando helped you out of your panties, opening your legs wide open so he could get a perfect view of your glistening wet cunt. His digits slightly brushed over it, teasing you. He planted sensual kisses all over your neck until he found an extra sensitive zone behind your ear lobe and focused on it. You gasped and whined helplessly.

"Look at you, so wet for me..." He taunted, leaving gentle bites on the curve of your neck.

You moaned as your small hand worked on top of the growing bulge inside his trousers. His shorts felt impossibly tight, and uncomfortably moist where the head of his cock was leaking.

Fernando proceeded to spread your slick arousal over your sensitive clit and rub you from side to side. You felt his erection get harder and harder under your palm. It was soon rock hard, but he didn’t seem to lose his composure. You, on the other hand, were a wreck.

His fingers were the most experienced you had ever had before. Even your own touch couldn’t compare.

"Is this what the birthday girl wants?" Fernando kissed your ear, drawing out a pleasured moan from you, "Beg me to fuck you, princess"

"Please nano, please" You tried to stifle your moaning when his knuckles disappeared into you.

He mocked, "Aren't you the cutest?"

Fernando got onto his knees in front of you, hiking up your dress to your stomach.

"Let me taste how desperate you are"

He didn't let you have time to process the sudden change of position, Fernando's mouth now worked where once his fingers were buried. Your fingers gripped his scalp, desperately needing to touch him. He brushed his thumb over your clit, circling that little bundle of nerves until you became a whimpering mess for him.

You tried to keep your moans and purring quiet. It was no easy task considering how damn good his wet tongue felt, moving in different ways on your warm core.

"Ah-ah, don't silence yourself, princesa. I want to hear your pretty noises." He taunted, flicking his tongue over your clit just to watch you squirm, "C'mon, be a good girl and do it again."

His voice sounding stern and seductive sent you into bliss, and erotic moans ripped your throat open just because he asked you to. Because just like the other way around, you'd do anything for him.

"Fuck, I'm so close!" You whispered out loud.

You bucked your hips towards him, fucking yourself on his finger and mouth. His hands held yours steady on your stomach, under the silky red fabric of your dress.

He slowed to a stop and removed his pleasurable fingers. You whined.

"Fernan–"

Hopping on top of you, Fernando grabbed your face between his hand and attacked your lips, silencing you with his own. He got in between your legs, and you felt something hard and velvety against your slit. Your heart pounded with the quick realization that it was his cock.

He rubbed his cockhead against your gushing slit while he whispered in your ear, "Make a wish, birthday girl"

"Fuck me, please"

He slowly thrust inside you, letting you savor every second of the pleasurable intrusion. You gasped. He filled you so perfectly.

Fernando groaned as he felt his dick ripping your walls open.

"Fuck, Nando!" You bit your lip hard, eyes turning to the back of your head.

You felt his hard length rubbing against every pleasurable spot inside you. The very walls of your pussy were alight with your once again approaching orgasm in a way you had never experienced before. Usually, it had to be your clit bringing you this much pleasure. This was even better.

"Fuck, you feel so good" He groaned against the crook of your neck, "like this pussy was made jus' for me. You were made jus' for me."

He growled with excitement and forcibly held your hands down on either side of your head, palms glued to each other, fingers entwined to his own. Even for his age, his stamina was relentless. You kept moaning and begging, and although you were incapable of any coherent thoughts, you kept eye contact, staring deep into those brown chocolate eyes that you so loved.

"Yes, sweetie, jus' like that. You're such a good girl" He murmured, his praisings driving you insane, "Come on my cock, love. Let it out for me."

Fernando's cock kept punching into you just right, reaching a fiery spot deep inside you. Your mind went blank. You felt a sweet, mind-blowing release spilling over. Your pussy simply gushed around him. His cock twitched inside you. A moment later he was moaning loudly in your ear. He thrust his cock a few more slow, firm times as you felt him come undone deep inside you.

He held himself deep but still inside you for a moment while he caught his breath. You were even more breathless than he was. Your every muscle relaxed into the sofa. You smiled like you couldn't help it.

Fernando kissed your ear. "Happy birthday, corazón."

liked by fernandoalo_official and 721,908 others

yourusername birthday dump. feeling 23.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

After Hours Office Hours - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeProfessor!Rafe x CollegeStudent!Reader (no use of y/n)

⭐ republished ⭐

Part 1

+18 Minor DNI

🪄smut, language, swearing, drinking and smoking, fingering, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, pet names, squirting, overstimulation, praise kink, ownership kink, older Rafe, possessive rafe, jealous rafe, obsessed rafe, choking, spanking, degradation, name-calling, pussy slapping, mating press, reader calls rafe daddy

📖 After a surprising afternoon rendezvous you find yourself at the doors of Tanneyhill, ready for round two

✨ Rafe adjusts himself in his chair, spreading his thighs a little wider as he pinches a fresh cigar between his lips. He reaches over to the coffee table, snagging the Perrier-Joute, drinking from the bottle. You can see that he’s getting more comfortable as time passes by, as well. Laughing a little more, a few more buttons on his shirt undone, drinking straight from the source. ✨

4.1 K

Tanneyhill…

Later that night

“Holy shit,” you whisper, eyes following Rafe’s house all the way to the top. The grandeur of it all begs the question, does a professor really live here? I mean, I’m sure the university pays him well, but not this well. This is old money.

Tracking the brick walk, you make your way to the front door, smoothing out a very different ensemble than you wore this afternoon. You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful at this moment that you decided to dress up. Your pink satin mini-dress blows lightly with the cool night breeze, an open back cinched tight, showing off your curves.

Truthfully, I didn’t think that would happen. Just teasing between friends until that fictional tale came true. I never thought he would actually cross the line.

Rafe was right… The boys at school weren’t cutting it. They were selfish, inexperienced, and immature. That was only an hour? What could Rafe do with a whole night? On a bed instead of a desk? He said he had a ‘real big house,’ which is the understatement of the century. I can make as much noise as I’d like. He’s going to take care of me… Me.

I’ve never felt pleasure like that in my life. The part that excited me the most was that I was holding back, not wanting to get caught. What would happen if I let myself go? The part that scares me, however, is the fact that I’m already in too deep.

What if Rafe’s thought about it since? Not in the way I’m hoping he would, the way that would stop him from doing it again. A moment of clarity where Rafe realizes that he may have made a mistake. I’m his student… He’s my professor.

What if he’s doing this with other people? What if I’m not the only student in Professor Cameron’s class getting “extra credit”? Am I just another one of his girls?

I can’t think about that.

I’m feeling things. And, I can’t stop.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

You can hear shuffling behind the door, watching as the knob turns. The door fans open; Rafe meets your gaze with a smile. “You… Wow. You look stunning," he hails, bearing the door as you pass through.

Fuck, he looks good. You feel yourself get a little frazzled as you take Rafe in. A slim black button-down and slacks, coupled with yet another pair of designer dress shoes. He smells delicious; that same cologne reapplied, already burned into your brain. ”You alright?“ He smiles, looking down at you.

”More than alright, Rafe. Just a little nervous.“

"About what?” He puffs, cocking his head to the side as he shuts the door. “Told ya I didn’t bite. Not unless you want me to,” Rafe chuckles warmly, turning you under his finger as he checks out your little dress again. “Goddamn. You’re flawless.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as your cheeks blush. Rafe keeps his hand in yours, guiding you deeper into his house, letting you take it all in.

“So, what are you so nervous about?" Rafe presses a little further, not wanting to let it go until he figures it out.

"I don’t know… I didn’t expect to be here. I’m just - I hope you aren’t having second thoughts.”

“Me?” He chuckles; twisting his face slightly as a crooked smile spreads on his lips. “Never. No second thoughts.”

“Okay… And, am I the only one-”

“Who’s gettin’ extra credit?” He snickers, reading your mind entirely. “You are the only one.”

“Ever?” You ask, your voice just above a hush, kicking yourself for asking it in the first place to a grown-ass man. Rafe turns you toward him, lacing his fingers in yours; his lips meet your forehead, kissing you softly.

“If you’re askin’ if I’ve ever had sex in an office, and I said 'no,’ I’d be lyin’,” he chuckles weakly. His palms come up, resting gently on your cheeks, guiding your watch to his. “But, if you're askin’ me if I’ve ever done that with a student… never. I’ve never done that.”

You give him a soft smile. “I’m so happy I’m here with you.”

“Me too,” he hums. “Now, let’s go relax. Yeah?” You nod as Rafe leans in, meeting your lips; kissing you deeply. Heat spreads across your body; the contact sets you ablaze, your entire being craving more of him.

Rafe walks you to his study, the mahogany countertop, adorned with six elegant bouquets. “Do you like flowers, princess?” He smiles; his hand resting on the small of your back.

“Of course,” you respond dreamily, bending in to smell each. “Six? Rafe, this-”

“I didn’t know what your favorite was…” He interjects, “Pink roses?" Rafe guesses, based solely on your reaction.

"Yeah, pink roses,” you giggle. “Thank you.”

He steers you to his leather couch, taking a seat. Before you can sink down, his hands are on you, guiding you to straddle his lap. You rest your hands lightly on his muscular chest as Rafe eyes you in his arms. His rough hands graze your back, landing on your bum; kneading your curves slowly.

“M'so glad you’re here,” he soughs, his lust-laced eyes locked on your lips. His crystal blues lift slowly to yours, sending chills down your spine. “You’re still nervous sweetheart? Aren’t you?”

You shake your head 'no’ as you lean in close, kissing him tenderly. His hands drift down your bare thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress. “I’m not… I swear," you whisper as you widen your thighs, pressing your pussy against his rock-hard bulge as you start to grind slowly. Your lips hover close, Rafe, matching your steady breathing. Tension builds as you wait for the other to break.

Rafe kisses you deeply, a passionate exchange, pushing your hips to ride him clothed. ”Need to taste you again. Fuck, you tasted so sweet,“ he mumbles between kisses. Rafe wraps you in his arms, lifting you off the couch. ”Just a little bit now. I need it. Don’t let me go any farther. Alright? Not yet.“

He rests you back down on the couch, pulling you where he wants you, your body desperate for his lips. Rafe drops himself down to his knees for you, taking control as he spreads your thighs, eyeing your glistening cunt with a hungry groan. ”No panties?“ He chuckles darkly, his dangerous gaze flickering to yours. Rafe brushes your folds, gathering your essence all over his fingers, before sucking them clean as your eyes roll back. ”M'so fuckin’ hard, princess. Can’t wait for you to suck my cock; make me cum again. Get that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick,“ he sighs. His strong arms loop around your thighs, pulling you closer than before, slumping you on the couch.

Rafe’s eyes stay locked on yours as his lips do the same to your clit, sucking and brushing his tongue from side to side. He moans against your pussy, as his fingers toy with your entrance, teasing your pearl with the chilled ridges of his gold ring. Your thighs tremble, tightening around him.

”C'mon, baby,“ he taunts, spreading you wider, sucking and finger-fucking you with a little more force. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back your cries of pleasure.

”Hey… Woah. Woah… Wait a minute, baby girl,“ he chides. ”Need to hear you. Alright?“

”Yes, daddy…“

”Well, shit…“ Rafe rasps as he grabs your legs, slinging them over his shoulders. ”I could get used to that.“

Everything increases; your heart rate, the pressure, the depth of his tongue in your soaked hole. ”You taste like heaven,“ he pants, bumping his nose against your clit, making your thighs quake. Rafe laps at your pussy, devouring you completely. He breathes deeply, taking in your scent; the vibration of his low moan felt against your heat.

Rafe takes your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, making you cry out; heels digging into his black dress shirt as you buck your hips; voice echoing through the large house. ”There ya go… Atta girl.“

Your back arches, lips crying out for him. ”Fuck, Rafe. M'right there,“ you blubber. You reach for your satin straps, tugging down the top of your dress, letting your breasts spill free. Your hands instantly draw up to your tits, squeezing and pressing them together for him. Rafe bites down on your swollen clit; making you throw your head back. A choked sob spills from your lips.

Your hands drop down, weaving into his hair, giving it a rough tug. You grind your pussy on his face, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. ”Rafe, s-shit.“ Your eyes screw shut as you cum on his face, pleasure coursing through your system as your pussy clamps down around his thick fingers. Rafe works you through your orgasm, waiting until you’re fully unwound to release you with a panting breath.

”Need it - Fuck. I need your cock in my mouth,“ you gasp; eyes still shut as you do your best to recover.

”Baby, c'mon...“ He chuckles breathily as his lips find yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, making your mind fuzzy. ”I wanna share a drink. Take you on a tour… You were supposed to hold me back. You can wait. Right?“ You can hear the taunting in his tone, a devilish smirk playing on his kiss-bitten lips.

”Yes, daddy.“

Rafe cups your breasts in his hands. Pinching and rolling your pebbled blush between his fingers. He sucks down, trailing wet kisses before biting your sensitive skin, causing you to moan again. ”You’re mine,“ he whispers, nuzzling himself into your chest. ”I don’t want anyone else to have you but me. Understand?“

”What - Wait…“ You ask breathlessly. "I mean. Are you sure, Rafe? You barely know me. What if I didn’t come into your office today-”

“You would have… eventually. I just got lucky. I always get what I want, princess. I don’t wanna see you come into class with anyone else. Don’t wanna overhear some douchebag talkin’ about some absolutely stunning girl he took home from the bar. You’re mine. My pussy,” he breathes, making your breath hitch as he slaps your sensitive cunt, soothing it with his cupped palm. “My tits,” he mumbles, licking a line through your cleavage as he palms them together. “My lips,” he whispers as he kisses you again. “My fuckin’ girl. Mine.”

“M'yours, Rafe.”

“So, you’re a professor? Just a professor?" You ask through a flirty grin as you swirl your champagne.

"Yeah… Got bored. Decided to go to college, then grad school; got my doctorate for fun,” he rasps before taking a sip.

“So…” You look around, letting your silence speak for itself.

“I made some smart business decisions when I was young. Set myself up nicely.”

“Mob boss?” You quip, making him cock his brow and laugh.

“If I told you, princess. I’d have to kill you." Rafe plays along, shooting you a mischievous look. ”So, you’re pretty far from home. You plannin’ on going back for Spring Break, or are you gonna hang around here?“

You laugh nervously, wrinkling your brow, confused yet intrigued, charmed that he went out of his way to find out more about you. "How do you know where I’m from?”

He clears his throat, regretting his words slightly, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt on his thick forearms as he shifts anxiously. “Uh… Um," he puffs, draining some more liquor into his champagne flute. "Your student account,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“Professor Cameron!" You gasp, flirtingly, as you lean in a little closer.

"S'bad. Alright. I know. I know! I couldn’t help myself. I had to be proactive. Alright? High stakes. I gotta be real careful who I associate myself with.”

“And you can associate yourself with me, Rafe?”

“Yeah. I have a good intuition, princess. Questionin’ yours a little," he bullies. "That neighborhood you live in is shit, by the way. It’s not safe, baby.”

Your eyes double in surprise. The more he exposes, the more it should worry me, I know, but he’s pulling me deeper. He’s possessive, calculated, obsessed even. But, I fuckin’ love it. How much more does he know about me?

I need to know.

“You look handsome," you laud; just a slight bite of your lip as you lean into the armrest, hair tumbling to the side. You cross your legs, letting your little dress ride up your thigh.

His eyebrows raise, running his palm against his wide smile, attempting to play it cool as he stares at the valley of your thigh. ”Just tryin’ to keep up with you, baby. You look stunning. Did you wear that-“

”On New Year’s Eve…“ You finish his sentence as a smirk pulls on your lips, Rafe taking the bait effortlessly. ”Do you follow me on Instagram?“

"No… Just stalk you,” he admits, not an ounce of shame in his voice. He can see that you clearly enjoy his attention. “Like I said… Gotta be careful who I keep around. Not to mention, I had to keep an eye on who else was watchin’ you. I don’t share." He smirks before tossing back the rest of his champagne. Oh…

”That’s all you did, Rafe? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?“

He gives you an open-mouth smile as a blush creeps across his cheeks. "You really wanna know?”

“I really wanna know…”

“That red swimsuit you wore in Cabo might be my favorite thing, princess.”

You roll your eyes, expelling a dizzy laugh. “So… Again, Professor Cameron, is that all you did? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?"You bully before taking a sip.

His gaze darkens on yours, the look in his eyes telling you more than enough. "Absolutely not.”

Rafe adjusts himself in his chair, spreading his thighs a little wider as he pinches a fresh cigar between his lips. He reaches over to the coffee table, snagging the Perrier-Joute, drinking from the bottle. You can see that he’s getting more comfortable as time passes by, as well. Laughing a little more, a few more buttons on his shirt undone, drinking straight from the source.

“So, Rafey,” you ask in an unholy tone as you stroll from your chair to his, dropping down to your knees to slink the rest of the way. “Is there anything I can do for you? I really need that A." 

He quickly forgets his cigar, resting it in the ashtray without a second thought. Rafe extends the bottle to you, pouring it carefully, some still dribbling from your glossed lips down your chin. He leans down, pinching your cheeks in one hand, licking the mess to your lips. ”I got a few things you can do for me, princess.“

"Tell me,” you whisper, fingering the buttons of his Dior button-down before pulling it open fully. Your fingers trace down his tanned chest, passing through the deep indentations of his abs to his black leather belt.

You can already see his long, thick cock; trapped in Italian wool, making your mouth water. “Since you’re on your knees,” Rafe smiles as he pinches the button of his pants, opening that, then the zipper. “Why don’t you choke on daddy’s cock. Hmm?” You can feel the wetness between your thighs, the soft sweetness of his voice contrasting his domineering words, making your head spin. You draw the material over his hips, releasing his aching dick.

You glide your fingers through your pussy; gathering your slick on your digits, taking hold of the base of Rafe’s cock. He shakes his head and smiles as his teeth tug on his bottom lip. You work him slowly, watching as the little bead of precum grows larger.

Rafe’s hand toils through your hair, brushing it away so he can get a better view of your face. “So pretty on your knees, baby-” Rafe’s words get lost in a moan as your warm tongue traces along his prominent vein, catching his cum as it drips down the side.

You lick a few fat stripes up his shaft, kissing his ruddy tip wetly as his dick twitches in your palm. “Fuck, honey,” he groans deeply, tossing his head back on the leather chair. “Might not ever let you leave." His hold on your strands tightens as your warm, wet mouth wraps around his swollen tip. A deep moan follows as you suckle on Rafe’s head, flicking your tongue along his slit. You caress his balls, taking him to the back of your throat.

Rafe pushes you a little farther, releasing a needy moan as you deepthroat cock. Tears roll heavily down your cheeks as you take as much of him as you can get, gliding off slowly; swirling to the tip, making Rafe’s eyes roll back. ”Jesus Christ, angel, where’s that gag reflex? Huh?“ He laughs airly. ”So good at sucking cock.“ Rafe pitches his hips, ramming you deep, making you gag. ”Mmm… Shit. There she is,“ he groans.

Rafe slumps a little lower as he lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a pull. ”Gonna bust my load already… Damn, you look good,“ he praises through a panting breath, making his stomach muscles flex. His thick thighs tremble as you start to stroke him with your mouth, rolling his heavy balls in your tiny hand. You release his cock with a pop, causing him to let out a desperate plea for more.

”M'so wet, Rafe,“ you whine, feeling your wetness drip from your pussy, gliding down your inner thigh. You take two fingers, skimming them through the mess. Rafe’s already set, snatching your wrist; guiding your dainty fingers to his mouth.

He savors the taste, only releasing them when you tighten your lips around his dick again. Twisting your hand at the base, you bob up and down. Rafe follows your strokes, pressing you down here and there as he mumbles praise. ”Lips look so good around my cock, sweetheart. Look at you, take it, baby. Such a good little slut f'me. Gag on it. Fuckin’ gag on me. Mine… This mouth is fucking mine.“

You hollow your cheeks, milking his cock with your mouth, making him whimper and shift in his chair as his eyes slam shut. ”I’m right fuckin’ there. I - I’m… Fuckkk,“ he moans, hazy eyes widening as you sink your pussy down on his dick instead.

”Bounce on my cock. Tits in your face,“ you whisper against his lips, repeating his words from his office as you lower the top of your dress as well.

”You’re a fantasy, baby. Fuck.“ Rafe slaps your ass cheek roughly, then the other side, hissing out a breath as your pussy tightens around him. Rafe pants and groans, his muscles wound tight as he tries to hold steady, watching you as you ride and bounce on top. He’s speechless, eyes moving from your face to your breasts; losing control when he glances down, watching the place where you connect; his thick cock glistening with you.

”Fuck me,“ he grunts in blissful defeat, taking a harsh grip on your hips, pounding deep. Rafe moans your name as he cums hard, continuing to fuck upward, gritting his teeth in overstimulation. No part of him wants to stop now that he has you like this. Rafe pulls you into his lips, kissing you slowly as you grind through his sticky spent.

"Should I stop?" You whisper, feeling Rafe’s smile spread against your lips.

"No, princess. Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

Your garter belt wraps around your thighs, lingerie hugging the fullness of your breasts; something new, something bought by Rafe just for you. It’s a gorgeous set; cups made of two large satin ribbons tied at the center; your crotchless panties, a delicate red lace.

“C'mon, princess. Stop makin’ me wait," he croons.

"This is too much, Rafe… I don’t need all of this. Truly," you sigh as you round the corner, relaxing against the doorframe.

Rafe licks his lip, savoring each glimpse of bare skin. ”Nah… This one’s for me.“ He pushes off the bed, moving toward you, pulling you close before kissing you deeply, breaking away from time to time, solely to take you in. ”Better than I imagined…“

”You thought about this?“ You hum.

”More than I should, princess,“ Rafe breathes, lifting you into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as you bend your arms a little tighter around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Rafe walks you over to the bed slowly, taking his time as you press your chest against his, hearts picking up pace together. He sets you down on the mattress, mounting you a moment later.

Rafe’s absolutely beautiful like this: dark blonde hair a mess, flushed cheeked, skin dewy. He cages you in, admiring you for a moment before starting again. He grinds his dick against you, trailing pre cum on your skin as he works his body against yours. Rafe continues to tease the both of you, his cock, painfully hard as you wait for him to ease your ache.

He swirls his dick through your arousal, nudging your entrance with his swollen head. Rafe gives you one last look before dropping his focus low. ”Shittt,“ he groans as your walls pull him in. He fights the urge to throw his hips into you, working slow enough to let you feel every curve and ridge until he’s filled you to the brim. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until he rests his heavy head on your shoulder.

”Fuck, Rafe.“

"Squeezin’ me so tight," he breathes. Rafe completely bottoms you out, balls resting against your ass. He grips your hips, forcing himself even deeper, pressing his cock into you with his full weight making you squirm away slightly.

”Where are you goin’, Princess?“ He mumbles against your warm skin, the safeword you joked about during dessert right on the tip of your tongue, but the pleasure outweighs the pain.

”Nowhere, daddy,“ you pant as you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to stay.

”My girl,“ Rafe growls, lips latching onto your neck, sucking harshly. He marks you with his lips, branding you with what will surely leave behind a dark purple hickey. His teeth sink into your skin, causing you to whimper.

Rafe starts to rock his cock into you, nailing your sweet spot each time. You wrap your arms around him, marking him in your own way as your manicured nails drive into his skin. Rafe moans your name, getting off on the ache.

His body drags away from yours, tugging at the bow between your breasts, letting the satin fall to your sides as he changes positions. Rafe starts to stroke as hands move from your hips to your breasts, gripping them tight, pinching and rolling your nipples before settling on your neck.

You wait impatiently for his grasp as Rafe studies his skin on yours. He smirks wickedly, watching the way his rings glint in the low lighting, his hand wrapped like a necklace around your pretty little throat.

Rafe tightens his grip, making your eyes roll back as he pumps into slow and deep, snapping his hips each time. You can feel yourself a little more breathless than before; your pulse felt under his heavy hand. You let out a choked cry as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing circles on top.

”Faster,“ you beg, your voice cock-drunk and hoarse.

”Mmm… Bet my little slut wants it harder too. Yeah?“

"Yes - Fuck," you squeal. Your breasts bounce with each clap of his hips, his fat tip kissing your g-spot with each thrust. Rafe gives it to you harder and faster as you feel your pleasure about to boil over.

He’s just as pussy-drunk, eyes glossed, pupils blown. Your eyes flutter closed, drool seeping out of the corner of your plump lips. You feel Rafe’s breath on your skin, his soft tongue cleaning you off just as he did with the champagne, spitting it back into your open mouth this time.

His tongue tangles with yours, sloppy and breathless, as you swallow each other’s sounds. ”M'gonna cum,“ you gasp, feeling tears of pleasure well in your eyes.

”Me too, baby. You gonna make a mess? Let me clean it up for you,“ he pants.

”Yeah-ahh,“ you answer shakily. Warm liquid squirts from your sex, soaking Rafe’s thick cock and his expensive sheets. "Fuck, Rafe," you whimper. I can’t believe I just did that… I’ve only seen that in porn. Rafe quickly snuffs out your embarrassment as he coaxes you further.

”Fuck, baby. Just like that. I think my girls got more in her. Don’t you?“ He grunts, not letting up, applying more pressure to your clit. You feel it again; a second release, Rafe fucking you through the spurts of your climax.

Rafe was right. He always gets what he wants.

"Gonna cum… Gonna fill you so full, Princess. Fuck," he moans.

"Cum in my pussy, daddy.”

Rafe’s eyes roll back at the sounds of your voice, his release following close behind, muscles tightening as he floods you with his finish.  He throws his head back, breathing deeply as he comes down from his high.

“Co'mere…” You whisper. Rafe gives you a satisfied smile, burying himself in your neck; holding you close for a moment before rolling you on top.

You rest your head on his chest, listening as his heart starts to slow with his breathing. Rafe’s rough fingertips skim your spine as he releases a deep breath. “Mmm… Baby?” He mumbles sleepily, wrapping you tightly in his arms.

“Yes,” you whisper, blissed out and breathless as you meet his beautiful eyes.

“You’re never leaving.”

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[rielzero]

Just saw your post about ascended Astarion and male Tav fanfic. I am willing to rise to the challenge

If you need any prompts! here's some concept I've danced with in my head (up for anyone to use) inspired by my own character's potential AUs. Please do not claim ownership over the ideas, I'd love to see people's different spins. Please keep it to Male Tav, there's so many Female Tav fics out there already- I had ideas specifically with a male character in mind. M x M focus is preferred. I'm not bi or pan, so anything hinting to tav being exclusively gay is nice.

THESE ARE all PROMPTS / IDEAS not demands. I'm not here to control anyone's creative progress :V

I'm just a nerd be nice

Brain Damage Tav has used the tadpole powers but refuses to become half-illitid and keeps it how it is. Tav ascends Astarion- but is convinced by Jaheira or someone else that he is incapable of feeling love now and becomes afraid of him- (Astarion still is very much capable of love) Astarion responds of course like a scorned ex, and lies through his teeth when the break up happens and breaks tav's heart. Timeskip- it is revealed Tav's altered brain still has mindflayer powers, but because of the trauma of the final fight he suffers from severe memory loss and pretty much got themselves in a position were he is dying- only for Astarion to come around and save him by turning him- then be met with guilt and over-protectiveness when he realizes Tav does not remember their time together anymore. (would work for a series, this concept is what I intend to use for an AU of my character but it would be very different.) Lots of angst but soft ascended astarion towards male tav :3 very gentle- very protective.

You were There too AU were Tav was kept by Cazador but never turned, just kept as a snack- so Astarion knows him and they may have fallen in love during that time. During the ritual Cazador threatens to replace Astarion with Tav- Astarion goes feral.

I forget you're an Urchin Playing into the fact that Astarion was a corrupted Noble- knows what luxury life is like- inspired by how my tav is an urchin and very unfamiliar with luxury- Tav is Astarion's consort- but is very awkward not knowing ANYTHING about noble life, from etiquette to wearing jewelry and fancy garbs. Wholesome stuff- Probably lots of fluff. Astarion spoiling Tav and showing him off.

Three of them AU were Gale and Astarion and Tav are a in a polycule, after ascension Astarion becomes a little overly possessive over Tav- Gale notices a bit late and feels left out, but supports his loved ones new life goals... Of world domination.

I'm married, get over it Au were male tav has an horrible ex who breaks in the mansion because he thinks tav is enslaved to Astarion- but he's not- He's just as evil as Astarion. And they're very affectionate- Astarion enjoys rubbing it into the ex's face. Extra points if the ex is a human cleric, paladin, or bard with too much facial hair. (COUGHS)

Warlock? cool Any fic that plays into the warlock theme openly for tav, not similary to Wyll- all though I don't want to restrict anyone to a specific type of patron. (my patron is a great old one) keep in mind there's warlock patrons outside of the subclasses in the bg3 game if you need inspiration. If tav's patron is female, give them a mother-son kind of bond since tav is gay.

Other, Tropes I like described vaguely cuz my brain stoopid but ideas that can be expanded into one fic or more -oh shit you're dying don't worry I can fix it with a bite -you're so beautiful I want a 100 paintings of you akjdkhgkfhgk -The gods literally made you to ruin me god damn it I should've known -tav is small / fragile looking man but he can stab you 100 times over -tav can sing, or is creative but he doesn't like sharing this side of him (loki is 100% exactly this lol) hes easily embarrassed -tav is internally panicking because he is very very very gay. -tav has scars too and is very insecure about his body. -overprotectiveness, lots of handholding keep you close kinda stuff -wholesome physical affection, does not have sexual implications even if they talk dirty or flirt silly -words being used like petite, twink- or cute in the right context. -maybe a fic focussing on tav being half elf and the struggles that come with it. Otherwise leave race up to reader. -Tav was already a vampire before they met, or is a dhampir -Astarion and tav knew each other 200 years ago -I will pet you aggressively and affectionally and you will like it -who the fuck are you drawing? wait thats me??? oh -Astarion is creative too and might doodle. -love at first sight but in denial.. cuz its funny -tav has insomnia and needs cuddles... -tav is a necromancer and familiar with vampire lore. -anything reflecting the vampire bride/groom lore in a scene. (there's a reddit post explaining this) -Vampire hunters coming after tav in attempt to hurt Astarion because he's become pretty untouchable -Vampire Tav does not want to feed on his victims because he finds that too intimite -Vampire tav is a vampire lord too- but not an ascended one- and he isn't corrupted by greed. -Astarion technically can compel Tav, but has no desire to do so and voices this openly to anyone who tries to argue Tav is a slave. -If Astarion hurts tav by accident in any way he feels horrible and will shower him in gifts or thousands of love language things just to affirm that it was an oopsie and he did not want to do that. He'd never do that willingly. -consent consent consent anything with consent- love language is consent -tav was a sex worker himself before they met but not anymore -lots of fluff stuff -scheming husbands plotting the downfall of the world together, bonus points if tav is the mastermind and a genius -Polycule with Gale, either as Triad, or Triangle -Admiring from afar, staring- lots of staring- intense consential staring -astarion beating up tav's abusers while tav sips from a chalice like a spoiled consort -dramatic vampire parties and all the normie vampire lords are scared of Astarion and his consort -vampire politics are kind of like ballroom hissing contests with fancy banquets and showing off your partner -I will go feral if someone hurts or touches you -steer clear of the consort, or the master will gut you -jealous vampire lord tries to seduce tav but tav is very loyal to astarion and not having it -astarion gets a cleric or powerful mage in his court just to revive tav if tav dies -You offended my husband? I'm setting your village on fire -Everyone thinks the consort tav is weak- but the consort might actually be more dangerous oh no -None of the above lines have to be necessarily restricted by ingame universe, can all be AU- does not have to include the whole mindflayer drama. Rule of Cool.

Avoid these please? I personally dislike that -misgendering tav (babygirl, queen, girly, strictly effeminate- any words that might demasculinize tav, as a gay man this stuff makes me really uncomfortable) -Overly describing tav's features as if they're set without leaving it open to the reader (long hair, skin color, favorite colors, etc) -Astarion knew tav when tav was still a child and Astarion was an adult. -Astarion abusing tav physically, just.. Please no. -...they're teenagers in high school... *dies* -brainwashing.. No offense to people who like some tropes I don't- You're fine :V We all have different tastes!

Headcanons for how Ascension works that you can use (inspired by ingame dialogue and such) -Tav isn't a regular spawn, but a vampire groom- He was turned differently, not buried for 2 days. Astarion can sense Tav is in danger if he is a groom, or sense strong emotions from him. -Tav is not immune to sunlight unless he stays in close range of Astarion. (based on dialogue) -Astarion might be a bit warmer to the touch since he is a living vampire now. He does not have to feed on blood- but Tav still requires blood and is cold to the touch.

Might edit this post later with more.

[htchnr]

★ nsfw alphabet ❥ D. O'DONNELL.

PAIRING ➻ David O'Donnell x Fem!reader.

AUTHORS NOTE ➻ the header has me screaming honestly, he's JUST SO 😩🤭 this was both fun and challenging to write, hope you guys enjoy it 😉😁

★ - © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫! - ★

Aftercare (what they’re like after the act?)

❥ he's an absolute sweetheart. you need water? already on his way to get a glass. need a bath? already running and almost full. need a massage to relax your sore muscles? say less.

❥ if the sex was particularly rough, or maybe he said certain things that were a little on the edge, he'll be the sweetest man ever afterwards, holding you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he combs his fingers through your hair.

Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers?)

❥ he is most definitely a tits man. he just l o v e s your tits so much. doesn't matter how small or large, he loves them SO much.

❥ he's always been a tits man, but one day when you were wearing the most flattering shirt, he realised just how much he loves your tits. safe to say, he bought you a few extras of that shirt after he showed you just how much he liked it ;).

Cum (anything that has to do with it)

❥ L O V E S to cum all over your tits. we've established how he's a tits man, he absolutely looses it when he cums all over them.

❥ he also LOVES to cum inside you if you allow it, but nothing beats shooting his load a l l over your tits.

Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

❥ secretly really enjoys being tied or cuffed to the bedframe as you either go down on him or ride him. throw in a blindfold as you tease the shit out of him with barely there touches or licks, oh boy he's in for a great time.

Experience (do they know what they’re doing?)

❥ definitely has plenty of experience. in the show people make a few comments on how he's had a lot of past lovers/flings, so we know he's got plenty of experience ;).

Favorite position

❥ in order — 1. cowgirl. he LOVES bouncing you up and down in his lap, his face in your tits. 2. missionary. loves watching your expressions closely as they morph into pure pleasure. also loves being able to burry his face into the crook of your neck. 3. doggy style. pretty self explanatory really, loves roughly pulling your ass flush against his front, watching himself disappear inside you. also loves to occasionally pull back your hair ;).

Goofy (how serious are they?)

❥ it really depends on the situation before hand — he can be really serious, yet he can also be light hearted and sweet. i think he can pretend to be really serious, but on a base line i think this man could never be 100% serious.

Hair (grooming habits)

❥ definitely clean shaven down there. light hair covers his chest and fades out to barely anything on his stomach. also has relatively thick happy trail starting at his belly button. light hair also covers his arms, slightly thicker hair covering his legs.

Intimacy (in the moment are they more romantic or more rough/dirty?)

❥ once again, it depends on the situation before hand — he can be super sweet, gentle and romantic — but he can also be really dirty and rough about it, man handling and mocking you until he gets what he wants — or guiding you with the gentlest touch and sweet words.

Jack off (do they masturbate and how often?)

❥ definitely jerks off a fair bit. especially while you two are together and he gets heated while you're away — he's definitely jerking off a lot. is also absolutely down for mutual masturbation ;).

Kink (kinky things they like doing/having done)

❥ k n i f e k i n k. he LOVES (only if you're okay with it.) fucking you with his switchblade against your throat. or dragging the blade down from your throat till your stomach, making you shiver under his touch..

❥ definitely also has a thing for formal clothes — seeing you all dressed up in a fancy dress and stockings sends him into an absolute f r e n z y.

❥ scratch. marks. he LOVES to have his back covered in scratch marks. loves the slight sting of them the next day, and loves being reminded of you in that way, in pure ecstasy, scratching at his back as he fucks you.

Location (where they like to get it on?)

❥ literally anywhere. against the counter, on the table, bent over the couch — anywhere. though he'll say that he doesn't have a preference, he definitely loves you on top of him on the couch.

Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

❥ so much honestly. teasing him about things, bending over to pick something up, wearing cute little dresses or skirts. also goes into a frenzy when you apply your lipstick in a certain way, he doesn't know why it gets him going, all he knows is that he either wants to fuck your lips are kiss them.

❥ also get unbelievably hot and bothered when you're having clever moment, say you work with him and you go on a rant pointing out a bunch of things he missed and it all suddenly clicks, he wants to pounce you right then and there.

No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

❥ intentionally hurting you would be a definite no. he may have an absolute knife kink, but if he accidentally nicks you he would immediately stop and take care of the wound and relentlessly ask if you're okay.

❥ anal is also a definite no. not a finger, not a toy goes down there.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

❥ loves, loves, LOVES going down on you. cannot get enough of it, and if you allow him — he'll spend the whole day eating away between your thighs.

❥ i feel like he's more a giver than a receiver, but he absolutely would not turn you down if you went down on him. he loses his shit when you go down on him.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

❥ definitely prefers a relatively fast pace, but depending the mood is absolutely not opposed to slow and deep. he can definitely last a while before he cums — though if it's been a while since the last time you went at it, he will definitely not last as long as usual, merely happy to finally be in you again.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer quickies, or taking their sweet time?)

❥ definitely prefers taking his time, but also absolutely loves quickies — loves taking you up against the front door before he leaves for work, or in the bathroom at a bar before going back out to drink and join your friends, or fucking you up against your vanity just before the two of you go to work, as the way you applied your lipstick got him going.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things?)

❥ he loves to stick to what he knows, but if you come up to him and ask to try something knew, he could never say no to you. unless it's something he absolutely does not want to do.

❥ as for risks — he is absolutely up for risky semi/public sex. got all riled up while out at work? he has no problem taking care of it for you in a public bathroom, or tucked away in an alley.

Stamina (how many times they can go?)

❥ he can FUCK. for a hot minute. depending on how busy his day was he can last anywhere from 2 to 4 rounds — taking small breaks in between. though if the day was long or busy, he can last 1 to 2 at best. he definitely will try to make it more, but usually finds himself too exhausted by the end of the first round or halfway round two.

Toys (do they like using toys on themselves or lovers?)

❥ he's not the biggest fan of using them on you, he much prefers doing everything himself — but he's absolutely not opposed to you using them on yourself. and if you bat your eyes, he might not be opposed to you using them on him ;).

Unfair (do they tease or do they enjoy being teased?)

❥ loves LOVES L O V E S teasing. so damn much. he loves nothing more than to tease you till you're hot and bothered, be it in public, or at home. if he's away for work, and it's not too serious, he will definitely tease the fuck out of you till you're begging him to come home.

Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk during the act?)

❥ i don't think he's really loud, but he definitely pants fairly loud and whines.

❥ depending on the mood and the direction the moment is going he might be more vocal, moaning and groaning more loudly, or mostly just letting you hear his breath catch and his low whimpers in your ear..

❥ definitely talks you through it — praising or degrading you, letting you know how much he loves it, he's got the foulest mouth on him.

Wild card (random headcannon of any sort)

❥ loves it when he's wearing a tie and you tug him by it to kiss him — or alternatively, when you're pissed and you tug on it to get your point across. makes him go absolutely insane ;).

Yearning (sexdrive level)

❥ high. so high. anything gets him going honestly. i think once the two of you have properly settled down it'll lessen a little though, and if the two of you were to have kids it wouldn't necessarily lessen, but more be a lower priority than other feelings and needs.

Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after?)

❥ definitely not immediately, aftercare is important to him. he can't find it in him to think about falling asleep before making sure you're okay/cleaning up and taking care of you. if it was a long day and the sex really took it out of him he'll definitely fall asleep quicker. but if it's a relatively relaxed day, it'll take him a little longer.

taglist — @sheen4gh @toast8410

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Fluffy Alphabet Thing

I made a fluffy alphabet thing for anyone who wants to request headcanons for One Piece Live Action characters. I’ll do Sanji, Zoro, Mihawk, Shanks, and Buggy. And maybe other characters if you ask nicely and I feel creatively capable.

I’ll make a section for this in my Masterpost, and cross out each character claim as it is made. Any name without color that has been stricken through has already been requested.

I ask that headcanon requests be limited to five letters per character. Can be all five characters, or just one or two of your choosing, whatever.

If you want a oneshot/drabble for a letter, I ask that you limit it to three characters per request and only one letter for all three characters.

This is very much for my sake to keep the creative spark going. Unambiguous headcanons help fuel my drive to continue stories/requests with more specific themes. So, have at it.

If anyone wants a copy of the Fluffy Alphabet for their own use, hit me up and I’ll gladly send you a clean copy so you don’t have to copy/paste/edit shit out. No need to credit me, consider it a free resource.

EDIT: Hi I can't alphabet I forgot E but I just added it in

A is for Affirmation (How affirming are they of you and their love for you?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

B is for Birthday (How do they go about celebrating the day you were born?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

C is for Courtship (How would they court you?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

D is for Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning and other such household chores?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

E is for Emergencies (How do they respond when either of you have an emergency?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

F is for Friends/Family (What happens when they’re around other people you care about?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

G is for Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

H is for Hugs (How do they like to hug you? How often?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

I is for I Love You (Who says it first, how long does it take, how does it happen?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

J is for Jaunt (Where do you go/what do you do when you go out together?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

K is for Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you/be kissed?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

L is for Listening (How are their listening skills? Do they hang on your every word, or is it sort of in-one-ear-and-out-the-other?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

M is for Morning (How are your mornings spent together?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

N is for Needs (What do they need in a healthy relationship?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

O is for Others (How do they react when you’re around other people?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

P is for Protective (How protective are they of you?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

Q is for Quiz (How much do they remember about you? Every little detail you mention in passing, or are they prone to forgetting?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

R is for Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

S is for Stress (How do you help each other handle stress?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

T is for Temper (What is their temper like? Quick to anger or long fuse? How bad do they lose it?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

U is for Unique (What’s something unique about them that no one knows but you?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

V is for Vacation (Where would they take you on vacation, what would you do?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

W is for Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you? How long would it take for them to recover if they lost you?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

X is for Xtra (An extra thing about your relationship) (You can specify what the extra thing is, or I can just pull something out of my…well, you know.)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

Y is for Yearning (What’s something that they yearn for when you’re separated?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

Z is for Zzzzzz (How do they respond when you fall asleep in their presence?)

Claims: Sanji Zoro Shanks Mihawk Buggy

[bigusbossus]

Pregnant BBV. This is a threat.

brother don't threaten me with a good time. i need to see V get pregnant. he's so mushy brained, happy to have his Boss's baby, rubbing his tummy and already thinking of cute baby names while Bb is like kinda freaked out at first like he's going " oh my god this is so freaky and weird I got my body double pregnant.... i got my body double pregnant 😏"

like V isn't even concerned about what anyone else is gonna think, and by the way kaz especially would be livid about this, ocelots just " yeahh that's normal.". he'd still go on missions and all even when people beg him not to, a little baby growing inside him isn't going to stop him plus he wants to amuse bb, he does stop smoking for the meanwhile though and he takes extra precautions when he's out on the field. you'd think bb would discourage him from doing stupid shit but he's sitting back amused, enjoying the show, maybe on slightly more dangerous missions bb goes with him to assist him because he does kinda care enough to not let either v or his baby die

also imagine bb warming up to the baby and being gentle with V for once, like rubbing his tummy and pressing kisses to it, pressing his ear against it. He gets gentler on V too, and dosnt put him through stupid stuff to get off, they agreed they can continue that after the baby is born (if it does because these two are stupid 😭, and if it does go that way, like the baby gets lost,V would be so distraught he wouldn't be able to function, just blank and crying to himself. it wouldn't affect bb that much I think)

also imagine v putting his walkman on his belly and letting his baby hear his sick tunes:) and bb chiming in with his own tapes because he dosnt want the baby to have a horrendous music taste (don't listen to him V's music is great)

[bandzboy]

Different anon, but. Look, I was already boycotting the song itself and everything from the day it was announced. But at this point, I feel this really weird uneasy feeling that I can only describe as: I'm not sure if I want to be a STAY anymore.

With things going the BTS Americanization Route (with extra Zionism), it just feels so starkly different from the SKZ and 3Racha that I admired originally. Not that changing music style is bad itself (they changed quite a bit from the start of 2020 to 2023). But it feels less like a change made from growth, and more like getting stripped of what made their whole thing appealing originally.

And I see it with parts of the fandom too. Yes, there's still some nice fans. But now we have a bunch that are so focused on streamings and chart ratings and big numbers, rather than if they actually like the music.

I miss when most Stays would joke about how their view counts were all ''organic''. Now they're raising money to get collab songs on the charts. I miss when most Stays were proud multistans, and their v-live fan forum would regularly be sprinkled with posts about Ateez or TXT or Day6, or even Limesoda.

And the weird thing is: I told myself back in the late 2010s that I wouldn't get caught up too much in the celebrity fandom thing. That I wouldn't put SKZ on a pedestal, so that I wouldn't get disappointed if things went south somehow. But now, I subconsciously hesitate to listen to even their other songs, even if it's through unofficial or pirating means. And I feel like I'm over-reacting, and it's frustrating.

Sorry for the rant. I just feel like I need a second opinion on this.

i think this is honestly a valid reaction and feeling this way is valid too because even i feel this way about kpop in general and kpop groups like even before all of these boycotts started to unfold i was just SO jaded with this "community" if we can even call it that. the way some people are behaving lately towards this boycott is unveiling the fact that some people just care about streaming and buying and that's it! that's their whole purpose as a fan and then also shun people that don't wanna do it and for what reason? also, the fact that i've seen so much racism come to light with this! people getting harassed for wanting to stand for something and being pro palestinian, palestinian fans getting harassed for calling shit out because yes their feelings are super valid and especially when the group they stan is saying nothing and the company they are under is employing zionists, they can feel betrayed like idgaf about what people say! even before this when fans would call out idols for being ignorant these fans would be racist to these fans for being hurt like?? what is this culture we are creating in these spaces is what i am asking?? i knew it was like that even before all of this but lately it's like i am getting hit with realizations left and right it's so insane how some people are acting. whether some people like it or not, we are allowed to feel disappointed and criticize them. even i feel stupid for these types of things bc it's like you mentioned we should know better and yet we put these people on pedestals and for what? it's all very valid concerns to have especially this time around! so many companies want groups to be international but then dgaf about international fans' opinion and they never did to begin with how do expect people to want to stan these groups when they do disrespectful shit and you pretend we don't exist unless we give you money

[itscaptaint]

Is That Alright?

Dean X reader

based off the song “Is That Alright?” by Lady Gaga

There’s probably grammatical errors, but I’m getting back into the writing game after a few years so cut me some slack...

“Why can’t I just be undercover as a bartender? That’s what I’m good at!” I argue with Sam as we are getting dressed for this shape shifter hunt. Somehow this asshat got me a legit job at the art museum’s gala tonight as the entertainment. I’ll be on piano all evening entertaining the guests as they peruse the old junk that the shifter is trying to steal. 

“Because this way if we get our cover blown, at least we will still have a set of eyes in the joint no matter what,” Sam says, straightening out his tie. “You’re also a musical genius, so that’s why.”

We’ve been tracking this shifter for days and we finally learned that it’s MO was expensive old shit. The art museum is holding their annual charity gala tonight and it will be the perfect time for extra bodies to be in the building unnoticed. Sam was the brains on this one which is why I’m stuck in the public eye all night, Sam is working security and Dean will be hanging out behind the bar. At least if Dean is slinging drinks all night, they’ll be free. 

“Are you two ready-” Dean starts to groan rounding the corner and stops dead in his tracks, staring at the long velvet green dress I scored from the closet of the shifter’s last vic. It’s simple, long sleeved with a deep V neck and a slit up the leg that shows a little more than I’d like. I can tell Dean is staring at the slit and I catch his eyes as they wander up to the neck line. By the time he reaches my face, he is pink with embarrassment. 

Not wanting to be gawked at, I turn instantly, grabbing my bag and gun and heading out towards the car. 

“Dude, seriously?” I hear Sam say through gritted teeth, thinking I was already out of earshot.

“What?” Dean whisper-yells. “I haven’t seen her dress up since…well it’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, that’s why you were staring.” I can only imagine that Sam rolled his eyes as he said that before heading to meet me in the car.

“Alright superstar, you ready?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows, sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“Not really, but at least I have the skillset,” I say, shrugging and sinking lower into the backseat to try and avoid Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror. 

Back in college, I was a dance and theater major. I had grown up dancing and playing piano my entire life. It wasn’t until school that I realized I had a real knack for writing as well. I got really into writing short plays and original songs for musicals. After graduating, I was working at a nightclub in New York as a bartender and singer. Everyone in NYC is some sort of artist so we all had other jobs to help with that lifestyle. Most of the other people I worked with were actors and singers so we all played double duty behind the bar and on stage most nights. It was good practice for auditions and good money to get us through until the next gig. Unfortunately, the club I was working in was destroyed by a poltergeist. 

I’ve known the Winchester family my entire life. My family lived next door to theirs when I was little. Dean was my first friend. We were 4 years old and would always be playing in the backyard together. I remember my mom constantly having to drag me back inside for a lunch or dinner break. After their mom died, I remember Dean being really sad and I couldn’t understand what was really happening, but I just knew that my friend needed me. We talked about everything, and he told all about the man with the yellow eyes. It didn’t make sense at the time but I was a kid so not much made sense. Two years  later, he told me that he was moving, but he didn’t know where. That’s when John decided to hit the road and hunt down whatever killed Mary. Dean said that he would send me a postcard when they got to wherever they were going so that way it was like we weren’t going to be apart. 

The postcards and letters from Dean were coming as often as one a week. My dad would set them aside for me to read after school and then help me send one back. Even apart we were still best friends. As we got older, the letters were less frequent. We went from sending them once a week, to one a month, but life got busy. My family moved to Ohio and Dean was all over the place. I finally accepted that all the crazy stories he was telling me were true after John had to talk my dad through salt and burn over the phone once. 

I struggled when we first got to Ohio. It was the middle of my freshmen year of high school, I had no friends and I was super into dancing and playing piano.I was definitely labeled a dork the first day there. I obviously wrote to Dean to tell him all about it and his next letter came much quicker than they had been. He wanted to make sure I was ok. It was nice knowing that I had someone looking out for me even if he wasn’t there in person. Our letters were getting more frequent again and my dad noticed that I was getting a little too excited to hear from Dean. My dad, wasn’t dumb. He could tell that I was crushing on my pen pal. He tried to tell me that I was just crushing on the fantasy and the thrill of he adventure. Along with the letters, Dean had started sending pictures of him and Sam in cool places or doing silly little things. I never showed my dad any of those photos. 

My favorite photo came towards the end of my senior year. It was a picture of Sam and Dean standing next to a giant bear in the woods. They had gone up to Vancouver for what they thought was a werewolf hunt, but it turns out that it was just a bear wreaking havoc on the town. The caption on the back said big scary bear hunt, wish you were here to see this. A big scary bear hunt would be more exciting than trying to find a prom date. When I wrote back to Dean I wanted to say those exact thoughts and then beg him to come to town to go with me, but I chickened out. Instead I wrote back I’ll make sure to send a scary photo of me in a prom dress so we’re even.

As prom night approached, I had been so stressed about graduation and final exams that I hadn’t even realized that Dean hadn’t sent a letter in a while. A few friends that also didn’t have dates for the prom were over taking pictures and we were having a blast. This was definitely going to be a night to remember. The second we pulled up to the school parking lot, the sky just opened and start raining cats and dogs. Luckily we didn’t get too wet on the way in the building. By the time we got in, the music was going, people were dancing and I could tell there was already someone spiking the punch. I was having the night of my life. When the third slow song of the night started playing, I took that as my cue to go outside and hope it had stopped raining just long enough to get some fresh air. When I get to the main entrance I noticed a boy standing all by himself pacing back and forth in front of his car with a flower in his hand. I thought nothing of it until I realized what kind of car it was. 

“Dean?”

He turned his head so fast that he probably gave himself whiplash. “Hey, Y/n. Happy prom night.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask in total shock. 

“Well, you said you were going to send a scary photo in a prom dress, but I wanted to see it in person. Figured it wouldn’t be so scary that way,” we both chuckle and awkwardly just stand there for a few more minutes. “Oh, this is for you by the way,” he says, handing me the wrist corsage. 

“Thanks,” I say and I can’t help but blush. I could hear cheering from inside so that must mean that the music has picked back up. “Do you want to come in?”

“If that’s your way of asking me to prom, Y/N,” Dean sighed. “Then abso-freaking-lutely.”

Dean and I danced all night and when it was time to go we ended up driving to the park down the street to just catch up. The rain had stopped and it had turned out to be a pretty decent night so we just sat on the swings talking for hours. He filled me in on hunting life, I filled him in on high school and what I was doing after graduation. The plan was to study dance and theater at NYU and hopefully end up living in the city. Everything just felt right. It was in this moment that I knew I was falling for Dean. The way he talked about his family and how he took care of his brother when his dad was away, or the way he looked at me when I was telling the silliest of stories just made me feel slightly weaker than I should have. 

We were so into our conversation that we hadn’t realized it had started to lightly rain again until it started pouring. Dean took off his jacket and tried to shield us from getting wet. Halfway to the car I froze. I knew that if we got in that car and he took me home, I might not get the chance to do what I have been wanting to do all night. Dean turned around, having given up on the jacket at this point since we were already soaked. “Y/N, come on!” 

I still just stood there. Dean comes running up, grabbing my hand to try and get me to move, but when he does I resist, pull him in to me and slam my lips onto his. It takes me a second to realize what I’ve done before pulling away. What if he didn’t want this? What if he thinks of me like a little sister? What if he is with somebody else somewhere else? Thoughts crowding my head, I pull back and start to profusely apologize. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know-” I was cut off by Dean pulling me back into our kiss. This time my thoughts slowed and shifted out of panic and into something else. It was something I hadn’t felt before but I liked it. We kissed for what felt like forever, forgetting that it was raining. When he pulled away he pressed his forehead to mine. “Was that alright?”

I just smiled the biggest smile I had ever smiled before. “Definitely alright.”

…..

After prom night, I hadn’t seen Dean or Sam much. I knew of their whereabouts and they knew of mine, but life got even busier. As much as I wanted to see Dean and talk about us, I knew it probably wasn’t going to happen. By the time I had graduated from NYU I had convinced myself that my feelings for Dean were just a school girl crush and that I could just get over it. The boys were hunting nonstop and I was focused on my career. I was so focused on my career that I had almost missed all the signs that the club was being haunted by a poltergeist. 

As soon as I figured it out, I had called Dean and Sam and they were in the city the next day and the problem was mostly solved. Things got a little hairy and unfortunately the club burned down and was going to need rebuilt. On the brightside, the poltergeist problem was gone. With the club gone and my job no longer existent, I had no way to pay rent so in a very quick turn of events, I ended up leaving the city in the back of the Impala and have been with the boys ever since. 

The night started slow. Sam was scanning security footage looking for any flares while Dean was trying to subtly touch every guest with some sort of silver. I was posted up at a gorgeous black baby grand piano all night and was much less focused on the hunt than I should have been. Guests were requesting their favorite songs, and some of them even asked if I had any originals I would be willing to play. I do have a few originals, but nobody has ever heard them before. Most of them are a tad too personal to be playing for this crowd, specifically Dean. 

Off by the bar, I see Sam and Dean deep in conversation. When we make eye contact, they flag me down. I announce that I’d be taking a short break and head down the hall to the main gallery. We barely make it down the hall and out of sight of the guests before I’m slammed against a stone statue and start seeing double. Well, just double of Dean. There was still only one of Sam, though he was knocked out in a crumpled mess on the floor. One Dean was laying on the floor scrambling to get out from under a painting that had come crashing down and one was strolling towards me without a care in the world. 

“Turns out shifting into the bartender is easier when he’s already half drunk,” the sauntering Dean said. “Even if he is a hunter.” 

I try to find my bag which has been knocked out of my reach when the shifter reaches me. “So you’re the pretty one he’s been drinking over all night.”

“Y/N!” I hear Dean yell. “Stay away from her, you son of a bitch!”

“‘Did you know that when we change appearance, we also get a little insight into what the human scum is actually thinking. Turns out, Deano over there has been undressing you with his eyes since you got here. But what I don’t understand is why he hasn’t done it before.” 

The shifter’s words meant nothing to me. I knew it was lying. Did I want Dean to think of me that way? Yeah, yeah I did. But this was not going to throw me off my game. My purse with my gun in it may have been knocked clear out of reach, but the knife I had strapped to my leg was already in my hands. Before I can let the shifter get any closer, my silver knife is through its chest and I’m shoving it away as fast as I possibly can to avoid any blood getting on this dress. Shifter hits the floor, Dean is finally on his feet and Sam’s eyes are back open. 

“What did I miss?” Sam groans, grabbing the back of his head. 

“Seems like Y/N had it taken care of,” Dean reached out his hand for Sam’s, pulling him to his feet. “Y/N, we can clean this up if you want to get back out there.”

“Uh,” I say looking down at my dress making sure I still look presentable. Don’t want the guests freaking out over a blood splattered dress. “Yeah, totally. I can go and finish up my set and then we can get out of here.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean runs over to me before I head down the hall. “You good? You look a little shaken.” Thinking about what the shifter said did shake me up a bit, but it’s not true. It can’t be true. 

“I’m good, Dean.” I pat his shoulder and head back to the gala. I stopped for a glass of wine on my way back to the piano when the event organizer stopped me.

 “Any chance you can play some of your originals? That crowd is getting a little rowdy with the classics. Maybe a few new songs will tone them back down a bit. I think the bartender is a little heavy handed on the pour.”

I glanced around for any sight of the Winchesters, knowing full well that they were going to be a while since they had to clean up our mess. If they aren’t here, then they can’t hear. “Um, sure. I’ve got a few that I can play.”

“Great! Thank you,” she says running off in the other direction to go deal with some big time buyers. 

I down the glass of wine and take my place back at the piano. A few guests clapped at my return. I take a deep breath and decide to slow things down a little bit for the crowd since it really has turned into a party out here. Well, here goes…

Life is so simple

A little boy, a little girl

Laughing and loving

Trying to figure out the world

It felt like summer

When I kissed you in the rain

And I know your story

But tell me again

Nothing you say wouldn't interest me

All of your words are like poems to me

I would be honored if you would take me as I am

I want you to look right in my eyes

To tell me you love me, to be by my side

I want you at the end of my life

I wanna see your face, when I fall with grace

At the moment I die

Is that alright?

Is that alright?

I hadn’t realized that the entire crowd had stopped everything they were doing to listen. I glanced up out of my trance to see everyone watching with eyes that were truly taken by what I was singing. Thank god Dean wasn’t out there listening to what I knew I would never be able to say to his face...

I hope you're still with me when I'm not quite myself

And I pray that you'll lift me when you know I need help

It's a warm celebration of all of our years

I dream of our story, of our fairy tale

Family dinners and family trees

Teaching the kids to say thank you and please

Knowing if we stay together that things will be right

I didn’t need to look up very much to see that furrowed brow and look of confusion that I hoped wouldn’t be watching. Can’t stop now, if he only knew this was all for him…

I want you to look right in my eyes

To tell me you love me, to be by my side

I want you at the end of my life

I wanna see your face, when I fall with grace

At the moment I die

Is that alright?

Is that alright?

Is that alright?

Finishing the last few notes was a relief. I loved this song, but it was too personal. I should have picked a different one. Luckily, the organizer was the first to applaud as she walked over with a mic announcing that the auction would be starting which was my cue to head out. I didn’t even take a second glance over at the bar to know that Dean and Sam had already headed out so I beeline it out to the Impala, hop in the backseat and sink as low as I can avoiding Dean’s gaze in the mirror once again. I was exhausted physically and mentally. I knew the ride was short but I closed my eyes anyway. The car was quiet and I took advantage of the silence to feign sleep. Turns out I actually fell asleep and didn’t realize it until I was plopped into my bed in the motel.

When I wake up the next morning, there’s a cup of coffee next to the bed already and Sam is sitting across from me at the table, laptop open. “Morning, Y/N.”

“Morning Sam,” I sat up realizing I’m still in my dress from last night. “Sorry I passed out on y’all last night.” I swing my feet out of bed and grab a t-shirt and shorts to throw on instead of my dress. As much as I was loving this dress, it wasn’t really daytime apparel. “Dean go to grab food?”

“I think so,” he shrugged.” He was gone before I got up. Should be back within the hour I assume. You wanna go for a run while we wait?” 

Sam was always down for a run. Dean hated all versions of physical activity which made zero sense. The man ate like a linebacker but was still fit as hell. It wasn’t fair. I change my clothes, lace up my shoes and head out with Sam. We reach a small pond at the end of the trail and realized where Dean actually went. 

“Did you run out here?” Sam asked, approaching Dean sitting on the sole bench next to the water. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean scoffs, turning to look at us approaching his quiet time.

“Were you running from something spooky? Or was it voluntary?” 

“Fuck off, Sammy.”

“Language!” I scold as I finally make it up to Sam. 

“Ya know, it was quiet before you two hooligans showed up,” Dean scoffs standing up from what I have now determined was his hiding spot. We all just stand there in total silence for about a minute before Sam calls dibs on the shower and takes off faster than I’ve ever seen him run before. Clearly the silence was more uncomfortable for him than it was for me. 

“Guess he really wants a hot shower,” I murmur, turning towards Dean. “You wanna just walk back?” I shrug starting on the trail back when Dean grabs my arm and turns me towards him. 

“We gotta talk.”

“About…”

“Seriously? I heard that song last night, Y/N.”

Oh, so he did pay attention. Crap.

“It was just a song, Dean. Have you heard the crap on the radio nowadays? Songs can literally be about anything.” I try to get myself out of this confrontation. I was able to walk away from his grip for 4 seconds before he shouts at me.

“It was about us!” 

I froze in my tracks. “Dean,” I slowly turn around briefly finding his piercing green eyes. “There is no us,” I whisper, taking my eyes to the ground and shaking my head. “It’s just a song.” I turn back around and start walking as fast as I can back in the direction we came hoping I can get far enough down the road before involuntary tears start falling. I don’t make it very far. The tears start to fall and my steps slow. I freeze and let my emotions finally take over. I haven’t let myself feel what I had been wanting to feel in a long time. I hadn’t even realized that Dean had caught up.

“Did you mean what you said?” He whispered into my ear as he pulled me into his chest. “Do you really want me by your side? Because if you do, I want to be there.”

I pull away briefly looking up into his wet eyes. I want him so bad. He’s all I ever wanted. “Is that alright?”

Dean’s facial expression changes into one that is rarely seen. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s more than alright.”

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I gave myself a headache today by going on yet another deep dive into Bruce's birthday after someone saw my Batfam Bday post and suggested March 30 as an alternative.

I figured if I found some info to back that up, I would just add one extra date next to Bruce's name.

"So what if he has 3 possible birth dates?" I thought.

I did just find out that Terry has 3-4 possible birthday options instead of the one. Which, while I wasn't happy about that fact, I had sort of resigned myself to the fact that fandoms do tend to care more about character birth dates than media giants like DC probably ever would.

And I still haven't forgiven Dick for his 7 potential canon birth dates. But whatever. People are having fun with Dick not having a set canon birth date and the various headcanons and suggestions people are coming up with have also been fun to read through.

So, yeah, I figured I'd be fine doing some more research.

...

.....

I'm not fine.

Bruce also has--and I checked this multiple times--S E V E N possible birth dates.

Just like his con artist of a son, Richard John Grayson.

And now I'm eyeing Bruce up like this motherfucker is the one that started this whole fucking mess.

You're literally a multi-trillionaire. Why the fuck do you need this many birthdays??????

I already updated the original Batfam Bday post with the new information, but my head feels close to bursting now and I can't believe I have to give Bruce shit now for teaching Dick his birthday scam.

In conclusion:

[daily-french-words]

Daily French words!

Intro:

Hi! I'm a French college student, and I study English literature and civilisation. I'm starting this page because I have a shit ton of extra French vocabulary to learn for exams, and it's a lot more fun to learn them through a tumblr page rather than just reading a piece of paper for hours!!!! All credits for the ideas for the first 160 main posts of this page goes to both of my French teachers this year, they're the ones who gathered up the lists- I obviously can't name them because I'd rather not dox myself (or them), but thanks!

Form :

(French word) : (French definition)

(example of the word's use in a French sentence)

(how common the word is out of ten, 1 being so uncommon people will look at you weird if you use it and 10 being common knowledge people will go "duh" at. please note this section will be the most subjective of the bunch and is purely based off my impression- the factors, such as social circle, time and place make it too difficult to have a more objective knowledge of how common said word is.)

(a possible translation in English) : (a definition in English because I like definitions)

(extra notes and precisions for context use, potential irregularities if it's a verb, other possible definitions, similarities, faux amis (see frequently used terms lower) or etymology because I'm a nerd)

Schedule :

Each week, ten words will come out : one each Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, and two each Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday!

Posts will be uploaded around midday CEST, so between 11am and 2pm, depending how I schedule them/at what time I eat.

Extra requested words can be uploaded anytime from 6am CEST to 2am CEST (the next day).

Every main daily post will be gathered under the "main" tag, extras will be gathered under the "extras" tag, and other random posts I may feel free to upload about the most random college life shit ever (even if probably really rare) will be gathered under the "baguette" tag.

Things to note :

These words are not common! This is vocab improvement. If you're looking for basic knowledge of French vocab or common phrases, you may have to look elsewhere.

I sadly only speak two languages, English and French, so this blog is only accessible to people speaking one or both of these. If you'd like to translate it to other languages (especially since the additional notes are all in English, and a lot of notes and translations vary), feel free to do so but please DM me about it before starting the blog, and of course credit me!

If you'd like to request a word, do so through the page's asks! That's mostly useful if you'd like extra context on the word, its etymology or its history, or if you feel like it could be a cool word to be featured on this page. Of course, these extra words may take time to appear and will be scattered quite a lot through time since they require extra time and research, and I may refuse some of them if I don't think they'd be a good fit on here. Requests made through DMs will not be taken into account. Please only make requests through the ask feature, and wait until the asks open again if they're closed while I sort through them.

At the moment, I have 160 words, so enough content for four months (see schedule above to see how I count them). I cannot guarantee this page will update with the same schedule or update at all once I run out, depending on whether I still like doing it by then or prefer to stop. If it does stop updating though, I will leave all the posts up because knowledge is knowledge, and I may pick it up once in a while if I ever get bored and want to have fun with it again or if the asks supply me enough to sustain the page.

Frequently used terms (that you probably know already but I want to make sure everything is clear):

n. : nom/noun

nf. : nom féminin/feminine noun

nm. : nom masculin/masculine noun

nn. : nom neutre/neutral noun (we probably won't encounter any, but just in case, I'm putting this here!)

v. : verbe/verb

adj. : adjectif/adjective

sy. : synonyme/synonym

ant. : antonyme/antonym

litt./lit. : littéralement/literally

faux ami : expression that refers to a word that resembles another one in the same or a different language but that differs largely in sense.

About sources:

For most definitions and translations, I use the online Larousse dictionary (https://www.larousse.fr/dictionnaires/francais/), the Wikitionnaire (https://fr.wiktionary.org/wiki/) and WordReference (https://www.wordreference.com/).

For etymology and word history, I use a mix between the Wikitionnaire and the Centre National de Ressources Textuelles et Lexicale (CNRTL)'s website (https://www.cnrtl.fr), along with paper versions of etymology dictionaries.

[pinkprimrose05]

3 choices. Arc V (Fandom) for 2 and 10. Yuri (Character) for 5, 6 and 7. Yuya (character)for 2 and 15. If you take on all 7 of these questions I will tie you upside down and play whale noises until you chill. Take care!

Put that rope away, yes, thank you- aaaand here we go!

2) my three favorite characters and why I love them so much:

I should preface this by thanking you for my most recent microcrisis, AKA the abrupt realization that somehow, somewhere along the line... the Theatre Kid Agenda™ has discreetly overtaken my top 3 list.

Speaking of the list:

1- You thought this would be Yuuya, but as it turns out... it's Yuuya! lol.

I'd go ahead and wax the usual poetry about the layers and symbols and all that jazz, but you've already seen me gush about that several times over, so I'll just focus on the babyboy factor for once instead. Yuuya may not have wet kitten energy even at his angstiest, but he sure is a sunshine bean of debatable genuity, and that's just as adoptable!

Looking at him alone is enough to make me want to offer comfort ok. I'm stuffing him in a blanket burrito and shipping him off to my place for a long, long break and some overdue therapy. We can cope with life together, cry a little, cry a lot, bake sweets to recuperate, melt into happy little puddles after a good treat, and then nerd out about theatrics and play a few duels to test silly strategies! This kid is my Son and he deserves all the best things in the world, so for every bit of pain he goes through I'm giving him a truckload of comfort.

______

2- You may have noticed this in ARC-V Month, you may have picked up on it through my sporadic, scattered mentions of the guy, but if not, then here's a fun fact: I have more than one ARC-V blorbo.

Introducing the central piece of a great many of my conflicted thoughts, confused feelings, paradoxical opinions, abrupt perception shifts, and eventual (semi-)begrudging affection that had me questioning my taste in pixels for like a whole year:

...Zarc.

I've known this fucker for 5 years, hated him for a solid 3, and then woke up one winter day in 2023 and realized that oh shit, he managed to land himself a spot in blorbo tier. Is this what people mean when they say a character grew on them? Were my feelings playing the most long-winded joke on my mind for 4 years? Trust me, I don't know. What I do know is that maining his deck was definitely an endearing factor, and so was the 3rd ARC-V watch (this is where I started uncovering most of the easter eggs I know about the show, so perhaps the build-up made me a touch biased over time, but I genuinely found the 136-139 marathon more entertaining than annoying for once. We speak not of 140).

TL;DR: I think the lettuce clown is neat. Past me would have a stroke if I told her I'm a Zarc apologist now tho.

______

3- Super Duper Ultra Hyper Extra Mega- ok I'll stop now.

Sawatari is actually the one surprise in this list to me because, huh, I didn't realize how much I liked him over other nearly as cool characters until I put them side by side and pondered who brings me more joy when on-screen. I thought 3rd place would be someone like Yuugo, maybe Serena, but it seems I've taken a spontaneous shine to the banana peel?

(Help how does this keep happening why am I weak to clowns lmao)

See, Shingo's character may be on the simpler side by virtue of being the... designated comic relief, but that simplicity is part of his charm! The mix of charismatic and pathetic aura is a also rare thing, you know- It's not easy to be so cool and cringe at the same time and make it feel natural. That takes skill.

And speaking of skill, Shingo has my respect for always putting up a good fight, even in the games he loses to all sorts of jobber bullshit. He's a genuinely good duelist and a great entertainer, and I love that for him!

______

10) how many fics I've read that are set in it (approximately and making exaggerated guesstimates):

Guesstimate: Around a thousand. I've been around the fandom long enough to read all sorts of fics on ff.net and Ao3 (among other sites), and it sure feels like I've seen a lot, looking back.

Actual number: Approximately 600, rounding down. On Ao3 alone. Huh, I was expecting the number to be like, 200, so this is not too far off, actually! Maybe the reason the fic count feels higher than it is because the memorable reads tend to be REALLY long multichapters. Why are these so common in the ARC-V tag, by the way? Is it the allure of crossovers? The canon divergence AUs?

(The answer is both, and a few other factors as well. Good for us, I say! Longfics are a serious test of commitment, and I'm glad to see and follow so many talented and dedicated authors!)

[supportivecircle]

dnd scam camping structure (content, that’s a joke for con-tent)

i dont have much more sonic dnd nonsense to share but i figure i might as well upload some of the other stuff i’ve been doing for my dnd campaigns. i use a pngtuber program in our group calls to have a virtual avatar for my characters. i started doing this back in i think october of 2021 with my aberrant mind sorcerer lepori: Kokoyo Tipaya.

she has basically three emotional states: normal, seen above. serious, for when on a mission. and her mask over her face, for doing psychic mind dives on people. each state also comes with a “mentally communicating” state with extra purple/blue star effects all over because she has telepathy. for those who don’t know Veadotube (the program I use), you can basically assign an image for when you aren’t talking, and one for when you are. so when im not talking kokoyo (or my druid xoqotea) has their mouth closed, when i talk it swaps to the image of the mouth open. i also made blink variants because there is an option for blinking with mouth closed and blinking with mouth open. xoqotea also has about three or four states: normal, sarcastic/unimpressed, worried, and battle. using my streaming software i can use my scene as a virtual webcam in discord, so whenever i talk my character pops active. its very neat. my upcoming characters have far more going on. i went all in on them. they will both have 9 states for each number on the keypad. the wizard is already fully completed and i’ll probably put together a bunch of gifs for her later, and the SCP-Campaign cleric only has two states done. i also looked up a tutorial for making a gif in clip studio JUST FOR THIS so be GRATEFUL. i could have used a gif maker online but i didnt want a nasty watermark. now enjoy a collection of various images from our campaign. for reference: our campaign has my bunny, a bard named Svetlina, a fighter/barbarian named Armor King who looks like Armor King and has a dire jaguar or a dire cat i forget (later replaced with a ghoul druid named Tacitus), and a warlock cowboy tiefling named Andromalius.

one of the first drawings when i decided to give her proficiency in a switch bass (a bass guitar that collapses in size for convenience).

i got a bard to sing a Hildegard Von Blingin song

we had to sneak through a cave of giant monkeys and creepy critters. the clapping cheeks wasn’t canon though. nor was casting Sending to her fiance. although she did have me do that often because i am the group’s psychic telephone.

the player of the bard says some weird shit some times that makes us all WeirdChamp like wanting to spit on an unconscious villain and use prestidigitation to make him smell like piss for six seconds.

i’ve got a bunch more of these to share but i’ll spread the rest out over different posts. who knows. they could go VIRAL like V/H/S VIRAL, but in a good way not like that movie which was imo the worst in the series.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Doing Something (Un)Holy: Let Me Be Your Doll [Part 3]

Eddie and Jean are used to each other--finding that they slot into each other's life like pieces to a missing puzzle. However, Jean's world gets rocked upside down in the blink of an eye. Eddie does what he can to comfort and it's a great thing they trust each other.

Eddie Munson x Black Female OC (Jean)

CW: 18+ content Smut (oral female receiving, p in v sex, light deceptions of BDSM and dominant/submissive dynamics); mentions of serious injury, blood, and death; depictions of physical violence; mentions of alcoholism.

This part is LONG. 25k words by itself. Working on Part 4 now!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Main Masterlist

Requests for Eddie are open!

Jean runs her fingers over the sateen fabric. She looks back to the fabrics in Eddie’s arm. Would pink work? It’s for the Clemsons’ little girl. She adored the white earrings Jean made her for her birthday this year and upon her excitement, her parents asked Jean to make another pair for her and a matching necklace if Jean could for Christmas. They were paying handsomely in advance and then agreed if the original estimate wasn’t enough they’d cover the extra cost of materials. But with the orange Jean had planned for bows, she wonders for a moment if pink is too cliche or just perfect for a 9 year old girl. 

“Pink or something else?” Jean asks. 

“With the orange?” Eddie returns. 

“Yeah.”

“Go for it. The kid’s going to adore it anyways.”

Jean was going to do this shopping by herself. It was mostly boring as she restocked on jewels and rhinestones, wires, and hooks. But Eddie seemed determined to join along, thus they land here, standing in the fabric aisle, each of them already holding too much in their hands and the basket teetering on tipping over without Eddie’s foot holding it in place. 

“Here’s to hoping,” Jean sighs and pulls the fabric out from the shelf. It was a lot more than hoping right now, but if it all went to shit, then it just went to shit. Jean could try and sell them off while working on a new pair for the Clemsons’. Eddie and Jean carefully go to have the fabrics all cut to desired lengths and tied up before heading to the register. 

Eddie pauses right outside of the growing line, being the one to currently handle the basket. He didn’t really know his way around the craft store. He knew where to get needle and thread but that was about it--all he really needed for his patches and to stitch up holes in clothes that are too dearly loved to be parted with too early. Jean had been their guide throughout the current venture. “Do you have everything?” 

She riffles through the cart, running through her mental checklist. “Glue, rhinestones, new wire cutters, fabric, earring hooks, thread. Yeah, we’re all good.”

“Ladies first,” Eddie motions for her to settle into the line and is swift to fall in beside her. Jean started taking custom orders in early October for Christmas to give herself plenty of time to get things done but it was clear more and more people in the town wanted her business. She was now roping Eddie in on weekends to help her package up the pieces she had finished and drop them off so she could work on starting new ones. In exchange, Jean was doing her best to keep Eddie on track to graduate. He seemed more fond of her work than his so there were semi-strict rules about him coming over during the week so they could both work as needed. 

The line is a bit slow, but no one really seems to be in a rush. Eddie slips his hand into Jean’s, threading fingers around hers. She squeezes at his hand at the action, semi-distracted by some of the candies on display. It’s a comfortable silence around them as the speakers overhead begin their assault of Christmas music, two weeks before Thanksgiving. Eddie loves the feeling of Jean rubbing her thumb over his skin and he watches, her gaze still locked in on a package of M&Ms. It’s automatic and the warmth spreads across his chest. 

“Babe,” Eddie starts with a whisper. Her eyebrows raise which lets him know he’s heard but she’s yet to turn to face him. “Baby, please look at me. Don’t make a man beg. I’ll do it. Right here. On my knees.”

A few of the folks around them--in front and behind--snicker at the comment. “Yes, gorgeous?” Jean exhales. Her smile is evident as she faces Eddie. 

“I’ve-I’ve been thinking.”

“Congratulations.”

Eddie snorts at the sarcastic remark and uses his hip to push the cart up just a hair to keep their hands intertwined. “I’ll have you know I have lots of thoughts. But anyway, it’s probably best that we talk more privately. But I wanted to let you know it’s not bad.”

Jean’s brows knit together. “Talk about what? What’s not bad?”

Not great timing, but Eddie wants to start the conversation earlier rather than later. It’s been eating him alive trying to think of everything he’d need and how to make it perfect for Jean. But in the middle of a checkout line may not be the best way to start this conversation. He sighs and waves her closer in. She steps in willing and he cups her ear. “Doll,” is all he whispers, but the trailing of his fingers over the waistband of her leggings tells Jean it might mean something more than just the surface. 

The word almost falls over her lips, confusion still clouding her brain. Eddie’s raised eyebrows greet her. Doll, doll. “You,” he adds quietly still but gestures just a little like he’s trying to get her wheels turning over faster. “Halloween,” he further explains. 

“Oh!” It comes out sudden and louder than Jean wanted. But it’s clear what’s clicked. Her fantasy. 

Several folks in the line turn to them and Eddie laughs, head shaking as he moves the basket up with the line. “I was trying to be subtle.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just when you said ‘doll’ I was like, who’s asking for a doll for Christmas? You got a sister I don’t know about?” Jean laughs at herself.  “But yeah, we should talk about it.”

It’s a quiet nod from Eddie and yet another shuffle up in the line. He doesn’t fault her confusion. Since Halloween she’s been doing her damndest to keep up with orders, her job, and keeping enough time for him. Jean’s allowed everyone one and a while to forget a thing or two. She seems to be sleeping okay on the whole but Eddie knows even if she had been having a rough time she wouldn’t be quick to admit it. 

One from the front, Eddie turns to Jean. “Please tell me you’re getting those M&Ms?”

“Is this your way of saying you’re hungry?”

“Possibly.”

“Why don’t I give you a cooking lesson instead? It’ll be way more satisfying than candy.”

“I’m in.” The smile takes up Eddie’s whole face. He leans into the edge of the basket, stomach pressing into the handle bars. Jean just takes the moment, Eddie trying to fight the ends of his hair out of his face as he chats excitedly. Jean’s not really listen to what he’s saying, too enamored by the way the afternoon light from the store windows illuminante the flyaways of his hair or the way he laughs at something he’s said or something happening. 

“Have I told you thank you lately?” Jean asks. 

Eddie snaps his head in her direction. “What do you mean?”

“Just--for being you, for being with me. Thanks.”

“I can help who’s next!” the voice echoes from in front of them. 

“What?” Eddie questions. The usual vibrant smile is replaced by something smaller, something shier. If Jean didn’t know any better, she’d think she’d just offended him. But she knows it’s the opposite. It’s everything he’s needed. A few other words knock against her teeth and lips. But she keeps those at bay. They’re too young for those words—whatever their relationship is meant to be fully is still in its infancy. She shouldn’t be thinking those words and yet they nearly spill over her tongue. 

“Thanks,” she states again, sliding in to push the basket forward. Eddie is left behind for a moment dumbfounded. He watches her slipping her items onto the counter and he so desperately wants her to say those words again. It’s not that Eddie is so far gone that he didn’t have a choice but to fall for Jean; it’s more the fact that she knows much like for him it is a choice to be here and one that he wouldn’t make differently. He scurries over realizing the way it looks to help her finish sorting out the basket. Eddie is many things but he won’t be made a fool of for being ungentlemanly to his girlfriend. 

The total makes Eddie hiss just a little as he sees it. But Jean doesn’t seem phased as she unfurls the twenties. “I know,” she teases. “Gotta spend money to make it.” 

Eddie continues to collect the bags—only three in total as the fabric does take up more space. “I mean in your world.” 

Jean taps his thigh. “Behave.”

“I always misbehave,” he returns, leaning into her ear. “Especially around you.” 

The drive back to her place to unload the fabric and tools passes with the shrill of guitar solos around them and Eddie continually swatting at Jean’s ankles to get her feet off the dash. She only does it as stop lights and only for as long as the light stays red but it feels ritualistic now—Eddie anticipating the action as the van comes to a stop and already reprimanding the action that’s yet to happen. 

The house is empty and it’s not a shock on a Saturday afternoon as Eddie’s sure there’s plenty of errands to run by her parents. His shuffles echo about him. The foyer feels a little hollow but he peers about while slipping out of his shoes at Jean’s plea. There are pictures, a couch with a coffee table—no stairs, a single dory home not needing them. It’s clear people live here but it feels like the house is only good for sleeping and maybe even eating. It is stayed in but not lived in, Eddie thinks. Jean’s not away to the back of the house long before she’s returning to the foyer to lead Eddie into the kitchen. He happily settles beside her, awaiting every instruction--from washing hands to reaching up to high shelves. 

Jean starts the true cooking by getting a pot of water boiling and Eddie works on chopping an onion. It’s a lasagna based dish and he’s glad to start somewhere slightly familiar but to be elevating it. Jean’s pulling ground beef from the fridge, tongue clicking just a little as she thinks. 

“So,” Eddie starts, clearing his throat. 

“I’m listening, love.”

“We should have a word—like a safe word, yeah?”

“Pardon my reach,” Jean starts, slipping in right behind Eddie as she reaches for the utensil holder on the counter. Her fingers just barely grasps it and Eddie scoots it closer to her. “Thanks. So a safe word—someone’s been studying. Something we don’t use usually though. Quick enough to say.”

“So Rainbow in the Dark is no go?” Eddie pauses on the chopping just to watch Jean’s eye roll. 

“No, maybe Holy Diver.”

The laughter is soft between them. Eddie takes in the items she’s continued to add onto the counter. Sour cream, spaghetti sauce, parmesan, mozzarella. “Sour cream?” he proposes. 

Jean turns from the stove, the water’s not quite boiling. Her face pinches up and Eddie grins. A true sign of a winning safe word. “I think sour cream is good. Imagine how fast that’ll kill the mood.”

“Until you breathe on me again.” The jest is easy to make about himself. Because nothing quite hits funnier than the truth.

“You agreed that it was true.”

“I did, I did. And do-do you have anything you don’t want me to do? I-I understand the purpose is to sort of let me use you and give you the space to just be. But I-I think I’d off myself if there wasn’t something I didn’t know about beforehand.”

“Keep chopping, please. The onions need to go on just a few minutes after the beef starts to brown.”

Eddie nods and turns back to the white vegetable. “Seriously, Jean, I mean it.”

Her hands are warm over his shirt pressing up into his back. “I know. I think the only thing I’m not fond of is like urine or shit.”

“What do you mean by piss?”

“Oh, someone needs to go back to the whiteboard then,” Jean teases. “I took a peak or two into some magazines we send out—it gets out there. Like I can get people who like playing with cum or like get a thrill with blood. But some other bodily fluids really get others going.”

Eddie only grunts in response. His stomach gets a little queasy at the thought of blood. He can handle it—blood is blood at the end of the day. It happens.  But he wouldn’t want Jean to bleed during any point of their sex life. Maybe some tears, maybe her begging, but not bleeding. “You’ve painted a clear picture, thanks teach. But no piss, no shit. Got it.”

“You? Anything that’s off limits for you.”

“I’m not making you bleed. Can’t do it,” Eddie picks up a small scoop of the onion that’s been diced and places it into the waiting bowl. 

“Do you think you could inflict pain? We have these waxes at work—they’re body safe.”

“I can give it a try on you. But if I’m honest, I’d rather you use it on me.”

“Well, let me just tell Santa what I want this year,” Jean teases, patting Eddie on the ass. “By the way, do you and Wayne have plans for Thanksgiving?”

“Uh, no, we don’t.” Eddie hates that his heart races at the question. But he knows what could possibly be following it. He and his uncle did their best--that’s all they could ever do. And certainly the last thing Eddie wanted to do was to show up for Thanksgiving dinner and it all went terribly wrong. He’s not even sure if her father had sorted through his own issues after the death of his mother enough that it would be a good idea for them to meet. Before the death, maybe. Eddie’s own fears and anxieties would surface but eventually he could’ve reasoned he’d have a fairer shake. But now feels totally different. Eddie knows it’s a reasonable ask, if Jean goes there. But this is where it can all fall apart before it even feels like it’s coming together fully. 

“Would you like to come over here? For dinner? My mom’s excited to meet you. And there’s no way I’m going to invite you and not invite Wayne.”

“Your dad’s who I’m worried about.”

“I’m about one more shouting match with him from snapping, so please give me the excuse.”

Eddie sets the knife down as he’s finished dicing the rest of the onion. “Is it getting worse?”

“It’s not getting better,” Jean returns. 

“What-what’s he going off about?” All Eddie knows is that since his mother’s death, he’d been losing it. But those are Jean’s vague words, not an actual explanation to what transpired. Eddie feels like he was fumbling in the dark with Jean. She is warm and open like she was in the store when it’s about them but with her home life she’s ice cold, holding it all up her sleeve and locked away. 

“It’s bullshit, really.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“I am.”

Eddie has to be careful next. Perhaps Jean did want to tell him but she was scared of this reaction. Perhaps Jean doesn’t want to tell him and this is her way of telling him. An honest admission of her tactics to make him back off. It’s stupid but Eddie prays it’s the first one. “I’d really appreciate it if you told me what he’s going off about. You can tell me all sorts of things. I won’t get mad. I just—I want to be there for you.” 

“Because you want to take care of me? Because you think you can fix this?” There’s no real malice in her tone, though it still falls clipped. Jean wants him to hear how it sounds—maybe it’s harmless to him but it sounds asinine to Jean. 

Eddie isn’t delusional. He can’t fix everything. But he can do right by her. “I can’t fix your dad. You can’t. Your mom can’t. I want you to be safe. I want to know what I can do to help. I don’t want you to shut me out. I feel like you don’t trust me when you don’t tell me things.” 

If only knew how much Jean was letting him in. But she exhales the thought. He wouldn’t know. He didn’t have anyone else to compare too. She could give him that much. And Jean would trust Eddie with her life. She did trust him. But stating it outright wouldn’t fix the problem. And she’d promised months ago to try to be more open. It’s just not her nature. 

Eddie’s sentence hangs in the air between them long enough that he assumes she’s avoiding him. He’ll let it go for now but it still stings in his chest. As much as Eddie wants to help, he knows the bigger problem was out of his control. It doesn’t feel like a fight between them though there is distance. They were magnets that sometimes matched poles and thus there was resistance. 

Jean’s voice floats up around the silence. “He hates where I’m working, but I had to go somewhere after the mall burned down. Hates the way I’m dressing. I’m not home enough or if I am home I’m always working on jewelry, according to him. He nearly destroyed all my supplies last week and the only thing that stopped him was Mom. But she can’t keep enduring his anger. Oh, he almost hit me once.”

“What?” The boom in Eddie’s voice is much too loud for any volume he normally hits. It’s genuine shock painting his tone. The elation of her letting him in is destroyed in the realization of what she’d been enduring. 

Jean grips the handle of the pan she’d been reaching for from beneath the oven. “Only happened once.”

“And that’s once too often.”

“He didn’t actually hit me.” It’s ridiculous to defend him. But it’s her father. He wasn’t like this before Gma died, and more accurately until he started drinking. Jean sees the empty bottles. But she carries on in silence. He saved most of it for the weekend so he could mostly recover before the work week. At least that’s how it’s been going. The yelling feels like it’s starting to happen more and maybe weekends are bleeding into weekdays. 

“Jean,” Eddie returns softly. He’s facing her, but Jean refuses to turn around at her name. So Eddie crosses the short two feet between them and gets the pan onto an aisle on the stove. “Jean,” Eddie tries again, “you can’t stay here.”

“And leave him to actually hit my mom? I’d off myself before I let that happen.” It falls through her teeth in a hiss and though she’s staring at him like murder is a top priority, her chin wobbles. 

Eddie takes hold of her face. “I don’t want him to hit you. I don’t want you to wind up in his crosshairs. And I know, it’s your mom. I know I’m really asking for the impossible, but God, I’m not going to be able to walk out of this house knowing that he’s on the warpath.”

“My mom,” it’s the only two words Jean can get out. Her voice cracks on the tears she’s starting to spill and Eddie can only wrap her up tight. Because he gets it. If he’d been older, if he’d been in Jean’s position, he’d choose his mother too if he could. 

But now Eddie is here, he’s older and it’s Jean. It’s Jean who’s choosing her mother. It’s Eddie who’s worried what’s going to happen and he can only assume Jean’s worried too, but in different ways. She’s worried the blow will strike but it won’t be falling onto her.  Eddie’s worried Jean is going to show up one day with a black eye or busted lip or worse he’s going to get a call she’s already hospitalized. The thought, just vaguely conjuring the sight, makes Eddie’s chin wobble and his eyes sting. 

“Please,” he returns. Eddie can’t tell if it’s to Jean to get her to get out now or if it’s to the universe to protect her. But he lets the one word prayer fall all the same and hopes it’s enough. 

______________

“You should still go to Hellfire on Friday,” Jean says as Eddie’s stitching together some sateen he bought. It was reckless to stitch together the impromptu ties in front of Jean without her knowing what’s for. But Eddie can’t stand the thought that in the evening she’s alone in this house with her father on a rampage. So he settles in after school—usually scrambling to get through some amount of homework until the evening. When the keys jiggle in the door, Jean starts to clean up and then heads up to her room. Eddie follows and for the most part when it’s just her mother, they’re fine to stay at the kitchen table. But when her father does come home early, they make a swift exit. Her father hadn’t said anything about Eddie’s new presence, but the looks were clear. Thing is,  Jean is always around Eddie so whatever her dad did want to say he didn’t want to say around her and his shot to tell Eddie off hadn’t come up. 

“It’s after school,” Eddie offers, like it's an explanation enough all on its own. 

“Isn’t this a pivotal time for the party?”

Eddie gets the last stitch through. “Not more important than you.”

Jean sighs, fingers working with the pliers to close the hook up and attach the threaded rocks as the last piece to the pair of earrings. It’s not a mistake to tell Eddie. He was stubborn and sometimes crass, but he cared. Everything was deep with Eddie. He does his best to find the weak spot in someone’s defense. Jean was impatient in some ways. She’d be steadfast but constant pestering would make her snap. It was a button Eddie didn’t want to push often, but he knew when to push it and how. Sometimes you’re unbelievable, Jean wants to say. If he hits me, at least you get to be right. But that will only set Eddie off. She’s too tired for a fight right now. 

Eddie flips his work inside out and looks over the line--it’s mostly straight. Enough so that it won’t really matter when it’s tied around. He’s pleased with it but the satisfaction leaves him when he notices how long the silence goes on between them. “No smartass comment?”

“I’m not trying to start a fight,” Jean returns simply. 

“Are you working Friday?”

“No. Am working Saturday.”

“I’ll keep Hellfire on for Friday if you come to the school and sit with us.” If Jean’s not looking for a fight, Eddie’s not about to give her one. 

“Okay.” 

Easy—too easy he might dare to say. “You’re more fun when you want a fight,” Eddie teases. The flatness to her voice makes him worried. 

“I’m--” The words are just too heavy to be uttered. Jean gets the earrings inside of the box and starts wrapping a ribbon around it. “I’m tired.”

The thing about tiredness is that it can mean more than just being physically tired. It can be an emotional and mental exhaustion that seeps into someone’s bones. But for Jean, it is albeit mental, emotional, and physical. Eddie starts assembling the movement board and figurines amongst the assembled desk. From the hallways he can hear the chatter of the students gearing up to leave, laughing about something and ready for the weekend. The door to the room opens and closes, more members of Hellfire trickling in after their last classes for the day, their laughter greets the room before they do and Eddie peeks occasionally behind him to Jean’s curled up figure. She dragged a couple chairs together behind the throne to avoid being a distraction, plucked Eddie’s leather jacket off the table he draped onto and promptly fell asleep. Eddie keeps worrying as more and more people settle in that the noise is going to wake Jean but not even Mike and Dustin’s bickering makes her stir. 

“Eddie, you alright man?” Jeff asks, slipping his bag down into a chair to claim in. He takes in the worry lines on Eddie’s face and then just behind the chair Jeff spots Jean. “Is she okay?”

“Home stuff,” Eddie returns. “I asked her to come tonight, just for my own nerves I guess. But, she can sleep like the dead.” A lie. A bold faced one at that too. He’s never seen her sleep like the dead. She always rouses first. She snaps to the lightest sound. Jean doesn’t sleep like the dead—it’s Eddie who does. Until right now. It looks like now she could and for Eddie’s sanity the last thing he wants to do is bring the attention to him and his worry, so he lies.  

Lucas comes in with a huff, panting out his apologies for almost being late, but he settles in next to Mike and Dustin, taking a moment to watch the quiet conversation of Eddie and Jeff. He follows their line of sight and sees a body curled up on chairs. “Is that Jean?” he whispers, asking Mike and Dustin.

“Jean’s here?” Dustin returns, looking around. The boys know of Jean--mostly only from the ribs that Gareth and Jeff give Eddie. She'd been mostly an enigma to the younger members of the party. She was in stories or a voice that came through Eddie when he talked about things they did together, or things she said about the campaign. Dustin scoots his chair back just a little to see the figure behind the throne. “Hi Jean,” he says. It takes a moment to realize she’s asleep. 

“If I turn around and see ten eyes on my girl, you all won’t be making it out of this temple tonight,” Eddie calls out. 

There’s a sharp scrape and when Eddie spins, everyone’s pulling out their character sheets and dice. Except Dustin. He gives one last wave to her sleeping figure and the story resumes, Eddie pushing up into the throne with flair. “Welcome back, adventurers!”

It’s not his usual amount of theatrics. But it’s clear to everyone that he’s still giving all that he can to keep the story enthralling. And it is--as they bicker briefly amongst themselves trying to strategize the best way to handle the throws of their scrimmage. Eddie, in the lull, takes his first glimpse back. He’d told himself to keep his focus on the game, that Jean, if she woke up she’d be okay or would make herself known. But she’s still curled up under his jacket. He knows she’s not dead given the rise and fall of her chest but she’s been asleep for nearly two hours. This is not a quiet party. 

“How big is the room?”

The question causes Eddie to turn back to his adventures. He looks back down to his notes and a soft voice floats up from behind him. “Five by five squares on the mat. So, 25 by 25 feet. 12 foot ceiling.”

Eddie snaps his attention back to Jean. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I woke up a while ago, I believe somewhere after someone screamed bloody murder for a failed con save or something. Just didn’t want to move.”

“She’s right,” Eddie answers to the folks behind him but not turning his attention from Jean. “Fairly tiny room. 25 feet by 25 feet, 12 foot ceiling.”

Jean turns her head to look up at Eddie with a tiny smile. He waves her over and she groans as she unfurls herself from her cocoon. She gathers a chair and settles it off to Eddie’s left. “Let me know if I’m your way, Dustin,” she offers softly, sitting cross legged in the seat. 

Dustin turns at the sound of his name, eyes wide for a second and then he gives a soft grin. “You’re good, Jean. Nice to meet you. Eddie talks about you all the time.”

“Nice to meet you too. He talks about you all the time too.”

“All good I hope,” Dustin laughs and then turns back to the current debate. 

Eddie reaches down just slightly to run the pads of his fingers over Jean’s temple. She takes hold of the hand to press a kiss to his fingers. It’s a steady stroke and though the position is a little awkward, Jean finds the edges of sleep again. She never goes fully under for long. A laugh or a groan cuts through the haze just enough to keep her up. But she doesn’t mind because as soon as she comes fully to her senses, Eddie’s fingers are still stroking her cheek and jaw. 

“Pathetic,” Eddie taunts from up high. “You’re tired and you’re hungry. And that’s all. That’s all you’re going to do?”

“Don’t be so mean, gorgeous,” Jean retorts, “it’s unbecoming to such devilishly handsome good looks.

“I like her,” Mike pipes in, with a grin, “gorgeous.”

“Wheeler, I will strike you down where you stand. Don’t cross me,” Eddie snaps. Mike opens his mouth like he’s going to speak but then thinks twice of it and lets the threat stay where it lies--only a threat.  

The room quiets slowly as more and more of them leave. A murmur spreads amongst them, trying to brainstorm where they left off inside the temple and what they might’ve missed that they can bring back to the table next week. Without much thought Jean stands to assist with cleaning. 

“I’ve got it. You can relax.” Eddie’s careful not to make it a demand, not to tell her she should let him clean it up. Jean’s silent in her response, carefully packaging up the figurines and placing them in the box Eddie has for them. There is his answer--in the silent work Jean provides. “Did you sleep alright during the time you were out?”

“Yeah. Pretty decent sleep. Did I embarrass you for calling you out earlier? I was sure I was still asleep until Mike teased back.”

Eddie tries to hide the smile. It wasn’t fun to have to prove to the party yet again why he was the one DMing, but the soft slur to your voice let Eddie know the thought slipped out without thought. “Embarrass me, maybe. But it’s kind of adorable you don’t like me being a mean DM.”

“I just want them to have fun,” Jean offers quietly. “You are a good DM—even if you are an ass occasionally. I can see why folks like this. It’s like football, real stakes in the wins and losses.”

“Do not compare us to the fucking jocks, love. We play an intellectual game. We’re not throwing balls and just hoping for luck.”

“Sports are more intellectual than you think. Calculating distance, predicting the opponent's next move, having to rely on your teammates to read you too and they’re counting on you reading them too. Just because these asshats don’t understand how to equate them doesn’t mean you have to retort back with equally low insults.”

“I will not be compared to those scum,” Eddie huffs. 

“You’ll grow up eventually. High school bullshit is for children.”

A year out from graduating couldn’t produce this much insight and reflection Eddie knows. And maybe it’s just fear. Leaving high school means Eddie’s got to face bigger questions—what is he going to do with his life? He can’t sell drugs his whole life. It’s going to catch up to him eventually. The thing Eddie wants more than anything is not to relive his father’s legacy. He can’t bear the thought of it. 

It probably is high school bullshit—Eddie trying too hard to distance himself from the perceived popular and normal crowd. But it’s all he has. He can be different and he can wear it like a shield to keep everyone else at bay that he doesn’t want close. People that are put off by the music and theatrics don’t really deserve what’s beneath it. It’s easier for Jean. She’d always gotten along with most people. She didn’t really have a crowd but she skated through. Eddie doesn’t have the luxury. 

But maybe it only matters inside these four walls of high school because once they leave this place—they all have to face the same question. What are they made of beyond it? But Eddie doesn’t have the luxury of time away. He’s still in it. So he hum noncommittal at Jean’s retort and slides his notes and binders into his bag. They pull the desk apart and back into the rows. The room settles back its normal state and Jean and Eddie slide in next to each other. He takes her hand and she carries the box of figurines. 

“Got everything?” she asks. 

“Think so. If I don’t, well then oops.”

It’s a soft exhalation of laughter from both of them before they are climbing into their respective cars. Eddie’s going to follow her home. He knows it; Jean does too. So she leads throughout the streets and Eddie strums his fingers over the steering wheel as he follows. She pulls into the driveway and Eddie parks on the street in front of the house. She waits by her car door, knowing Eddie will absolutely lose his head if she went inside without him walking her to at least the door. 

“You’re learning,” Eddie grins, taking her head once he’s close. 

“You’re not a hard man to figure out.”

“Oh, now I’m a man.”

“You have mostly C’s right now except for Mrs. O’Donnell. I think, right now, I can delegate the title on a probationary period.”

“Ouch,” Eddie laughed. “Probationary period. Cut my balls off, why don’t you.”

“I’ll leave them with you,” Jean snorts, turning the key into the lock.  Jean’s heart starts to race--the anticipation of her father being drunk or on his way makes her wonder if she should’ve asked to spend the weekend with Eddie. But she doesn’t want to overcrowd his or Wayne’s space. So she exhales, hands turning the knob and only gets one foot over the threshold before the sight and sounds of her mother’s tears pierce her chest. 

“Richard, please,” her mother begs. The tears are thick in her voice. 

Her dad has a firm hand on her mother’s arm, roughly throwing her over the edge of the arm of the couch. “Bitch, why are you letting her hang around that Munson kid so much! We’re raising her better than that.”

Jean doesn’t know if it’s autopilot. She doesn’t know if somehow the thundering of her veins is making her feel like she’s not here, but all she can do is react. All she can do is push through and through and her father is shouting, maybe Eddie is too. Her mother’s cries are echoing in her ear. The thump of her veins is echoing against her ears. But all she can zero in on is the sound of her mother begging. Begging not to be hurt by someone that’s supposed to care about them, supposed to protect them. 

With a harsh thud everything seems to fall silent. The floor is an unforgiving break to her father’s fall, but it holds him—crumpled. Jean’s chest is heavy, her breathing is haggard. But she stares down at her father, hands loosely hanging around his belt buckle. “You bastard,” she spits. 

“Jean, Jean, honey,” her mother starts, gingerly taking the jagged remaining edges of the glass vase. Jean doesn’t budge. 

Jean can’t move. She’s waiting—all she’d need is for him to twitch. All she’d need is a groan, a sight, a sound. Her arms are shaking, she can tell. But she waits. She will wait this whole thing out if necessary. 

 “Honey, please,” her mother tries again. 

Eddie, who’d been trying to step around Jean to shove her father before she bolted for the vase, only seems to be able to stare at the scene in front of him. He’s a beat or two behind Jean—both of them in fight but he can see. He can see blood trickling from her father’s scalp. “Shit,” he exhales. “Shit, shit, shit. Jean, baby.”

“Call Hopper,” Jean states. She’ll wait, but she doesn’t dare want to waste more time for her dad to get back up. 

“Sweetheart, pack a bag, I’ll tell him you were staying with Eddie, okay? Go, go get a bag packed.” Her mother tries again to get the glass from Jean’s grip. 

The blood starts to grow on the floor, not quite a puddle but on it’s way to being as such, and it doesn’t seem likely that any other moment could be made. Jean loosens her hold on the glass, only now to realize the flowers are spilled onto the floor, along with water they were nestled in. The flowers Eddie got Jean last week. The vase she’d put them in that she managed to find in the back of the cabinet. Jean looks back to the coffee table where the flowers and vase are supposed to be then her hands. The palm of her hand aches with how tightly she’s gripping the glass. She knows what she’s done but 

Jean turns into her mother, slipping the head of the vase to her and drops into her mother’s shoulder. It’s quiet--too quiet and like a switch to a light a sob rings out. Eddie closes in, hand pressed into the small of Jean’s back as she cries into her mother’s shoulder. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Thank you,” her mother returns into Jean’s hair. “I’m okay. Now let me protect you, okay? You’ve got to get a bag, okay? Go with Eddie.”

Eddie’s gentle as he cradles Jean’s waist, a squeeze to let her know that he’s there even if his own hands are shaky. He keeps watching for movement, a sound. Had Jean really killed him? What would happen to her if her mother hadn’t been able to lie well enough to cover it up? As much as Eddie detested cops, he’d testify for Jean in a heartbeat. “Wayne misses you,” Eddie offers softly, turning his attention back to Jean. “You’d make his day by coming over.” He’ll feed whatever incentive necessary to get her out of the house. But they can’t stay here. They have to go. 

Jean is slow to pull away from her mother. The two women assess each other, checking for more damage. Jean’s mother is faster, wiping the tears from Jean’s cheeks. “Go. Okay? When it’s all clear, I’ll come get you.”

“Are you okay?” Jean asks.

Her mother nods. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Jean.”

Jean falls into Eddie’s arm. He’s careful to give her a second, another quick squeeze and then they start for Jean’s room. Eddie presses a kiss to her temple as they walk down the hallways. He feels like his words are all going to fail him. Nothing quite really encapsulates the depth of the moment. He can’t say it’s going to be okay. He can’t say that he’s going to protect. They won’t mean anything to her in these moments. What does it mean that it’s going to be okay when the evidence of her actions is spilling onto the hardwood floor? What does it mean that Eddie’s not going to leave her? What gravity and weight is behind such words when her entire world has just flipped upside?

Jean shakes like a leaf in a strong breeze against him. In the end, there are really no consoling words to over. She is not okay. She won’t be okay for a while. So Eddie tries to think of what’s most important--that he can do things for her. He can help even in the tiniest of ways. Like right now, it’s important that it looks like she had always intended to come to his place. 

“Do you want to grab your hygiene things? I can grab your clothes,” Eddie suggests. 

Jean only manages a nod. They split off for a moment, Jean grabbing her body wash, facial soap, and deodorant. By the time she steps back into her room, Eddie’s got three pairs of jeans in his hands, folded up tight and stuffing them into a bag. She dumps what she has after Eddie is done and then helps pull out under garments, pjs, and tops. She tops everything off with extra hair stuff. Eddie takes her out the backdoor, not feeling like he can stomach the sight again. 

“Do you feel like you can drive?” Eddie asks. It feels silly. But if they’re going to sell the lie, Jean’s car is going to need to be not here. He’s not sure how much time they’ll have. He wants her to be honest, but he also knows that they might have to make a reckless decision here as the seconds wind down. 

Jean exhales deeply. “Yeah, I’m okay to drive.” 

“Are you sure, Jean?” 

“I’m sure.” 

Eddie takes the affirmation on its face though his gut tells him otherwise. It’s probably only the choice with the most medium amount of recklessness to it. They walk back to the front of the house and Jean settles into her front seat. Eddie’s place--that’s all she has to focus on. She’s gone there multiple times. It’s seven minutes at most to get there, depending on the lights. Two rights, the straight all the way to the one way, then a left. She’s done this route many many times. 

Eddie watches from the driver seat of his van, praying that Jean keeps steady. So far, she’s in front and doing well--nothing that reads like she’s swerving in the lane or losing control of her car. It’s a tortuous five minutes--they were spared today by gracious green lights. The gravel crunches under his tires. It feels like an exhale when he climbs out of the van and helps Jean out of her car. They don’t make it far--all Eddie manages to do is get Jean up into his arms before her tears start again. 

The night is freezing. Every exhale Eddie gives creates a ghost, but it doesn’t matter. Eddie tightens his hold around her body. “Just follow my breathing, Jean. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” The same word Eddie thought were hollow just a few minutes ago are the only ones he has, so he lets them fall. Hollow or not, he can’t stand the silence. He can’t stand the idea that Jean doesn’t know that he’s there for her. So he feels a heavy silence with empty words, desperate enough to use them. 

Eddie knows he’s not getting any sleep that night. He keeps waiting for the knock to come. It will mean that Hopper has shown up at his door. It will mean that Hopper’s nose has caught the lingering smell of what they both know is actually there, but having to table whatever lecture for a later date. And Eddie will have to endure it, the lecture, at some point. But the truth that is harder to face is that they’ll have to know for certain if Jean’s going to get into trouble. Every action has a consequence, even ones made from a place of fear. 

Eddie waits, Jean curled into his arms, for the confirmation of what they know. It doesn’t come that night, though Eddie does hear when Wayne comes in in the early hours. The knock comes well into the morning. The sun filters in through the blinds that Eddie never cares to shut if he’s honest. He watched the blue haze turn purple, then pink and now as it settles into the bright yellow dawn, he hears a car pull up. Then waits, counting the seconds before the knock comes. It’s a rapid three knocks. Eddie shuts his eyes for the moment, praying the voice isn’t Hoppers, praying it’s just her mother. 

“Jim, morning,” Wayne greets. 

“Morning, Wayne. Sorry to bother you so early. I’m curious if Jean Brown is here. Her mother said she’d be here.”

“I saw her car when I pulled in. C’mon in. Give me a moment. Is-is everything okay?”

A pause. “I have something important to tell her,” Hopper returns. 

Eddie can almost imagine the nod Wayne gives and then the knocks on his door ring out a few seconds later. “Eddie? Eddie, you and Jean, y’all decent in there?” 

He exhales. No, we’re not decent. I’m not here. She’s not here. “Yeah, we’re decent.”

The door cracks only a little. Wayne finds Eddie’s face and then the back of Jean’s head buried in his chest. “Hopper is here. For Jean.”

Eddie only gives a nod and Wayne slips back out, door closing behind him. Eddie’s gently as he goes to stroke her cheek. Jean presses in closer. “Hopper is going to see my hand,” she states. 

When did she awaken? How had Eddie not noticed it? “How long have you been awake?”

“On and off the whole night. Both of us do alright with pretending to sleep,” she teases. Her voice is hoarse. Eddie peels back some of the covers and reveals her bandaged hand. It’d taken getting here to the trailer as Eddie helped Jean into the shower to realize she’s gotten cut by the glass too. There wasn’t a lot of bleeding thankfully, but still, Eddie worried and fussed over it until he got it cleaned and bandaged. 

“As much as I don’t like Hopper, he’s not a bad man,” Eddie returns. “I’ll testify. If it goes there. Be the first one to be a witness for you,” he laughs. 

Jean nods, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning to her back and pushing out of the bed. “That’ll be a sight for sore eyes,” she whispers. Mostly to herself. In the night, she keeps seeing what she might’ve looked like--eyes big and blow, flared nostrils, a viscous line of her lips. It’s easier to imagine that only a monster could do what she had done. 

Eddie follows behind Jean out of his room and to the front of the trailer. Would the universe see the desperation like he had? Would it spare Jean? Eddie thinks prayer might be the dumbest thing next to English, but pray he does in the end as the distance between Hopper and them shrinks. 

Hopper stands, hat in his hands. The still somewhat bloodshot eyes and bandaged hand tell him everything he needs to know. But there’s no real use in asking. Everyone in town could tell Richard had changed. Hopper could go to the local grocery store and the owner could verify the increase in alcohol that Richard purchased. The calls Debra, her mother, had made to Hopper personally about the increase in anger and hostility, which Hopper isn’t even sure if Jean knew were being made, would corroborate the threat of violence that continued to grow. 

Hopper could make their life more hell if he wanted to. But Jean’s a kid. And she protected her mother. The last thing Hopper can deny is that Jean had done only what she thought she had to do. And the second to last thing he wants to do is make their life more hell.

 “Hi Jean. We got a call by your mother last night to your house. Your parents got into an altercation. It got physical and violent. In self defense, your mother fought back, striking her father over the temple. As a result, he’s,” Hopper pauses. Jean’s chin quivers. “He’s dead.”

“I-” her voice cracks. Jean all but crumbles in on herself and the tears are instant. “I’m sorry,” she wails. “I got scared because he—my mom, you know. I-Oh God.” 

Hopper takes a careful step in, hand on her shoulder. “Kid, Jean, look at me.” It feels like ages before the hiccups stop and Jean looks at him through a watery gaze. “I know. Okay, I know what probably really happened. I know you were only protecting your mother. I know your mother only wants to protect you. I know your dad’s gotten really violent and angry after his mother passed. I-I don’t want to hurt you or your mother any further. Okay. You two only have each other left and I’m sorry you had to witness that. I’m sorry you had to be the brunt of his anger. God only knows what that must’ve been like. I’m here by myself for a reason, okay. But you’ve got to, keep it together. We’re going to make your mother’s story stick. Just trust me okay?”

Jean gives a quick nod, the sounds of her sniffles echoing around the walls of the trailer. “Okay.”

Hopper takes a step back. “Consider softball with an arm like that, Jean.” 

It’s a bad joke--everyone knows. But it’s just enough of a bad joke to make Jean laugh. It’s soft and sounds more like a brief moment of disgust at the poor taste, but Eddie sees her quick smile and wraps an arm around her waist for comfort. “Keep that one,” Hopper returns with a pointed finger at Eddie, “out of trouble for me, and we can consider us even. I know what you’re doing Munson. I can smell it. But she’s sweet on you and for her, I’m giving you a one time break.”

“I’ll try,” Jean returns. 

“I’m not that bad,” Eddie huffs. 

Hopper scoffs. “Munson, don’t try me.” With that he waves to the room and slips out the front door. 

Jean turns to Eddie’s bare torso, pressing her face into his ribs. It’s a shaky exhale and it tickles but Eddie keeps a firm hold on her. “It’s gonna be okay,” he returns. Her arms snake around his waist and Jean can only seem to cling to Eddie in the moment—a thing to keep her grounded. Eddie’s scent. The clack of mugs, undoubtedly Wayne, the taste of stale cigarettes in the room. It reminds Jean of where she is and what she is—home and safe. 

_________________

Eddie doesn’t consider himself a funeral guy. But he’s sure no one really considers themselves the type of person to be good at a funeral. However, Eddie especially is not the kind of guy to be at a funeral, to hold his grieving girlfriend. He’s not equipped for something like this. But maybe nobody is equipped for such demands. No one has a manual on what to do if your girlfriend accidentally murders her father leading to the town’s chief of police to help cover the story and how to handle the waves of emotional torment of said girlfriend as it ranges from incredible anger to sadness and fear. It’s not a manual Eddie thinks anyone else would create and he ponders if he should corner the market with it. Because there’s no perfect thing to do in these matters. Eddie can’t snap his fingers, he can’t shield her from the apologies because the town doesn’t know. They won’t know. 

And each time someone gives their condolences Jean nods, thanking them, but he can feel the squeeze as their hands are threaded together. How do you accept the apology when they’re saying sorry for the wrong things? They think they’re consoling but all it must be doing is driving the burning secret deeper and deeper into an open wound. But at every squeeze, Eddie squeezes Jean’s hand back and they stand together in the biting chill of nearing December’s cold—a light dusting of snow already covering the ground from the day before. Not quite in time for a Thanksgiving miracle and way too early for Christmas.

Jean shuffles closer, her gloved hand slipping from Eddie’s. In the moments it takes Eddie to look, she’s gripping his wrist and slipping his hand into her pocket. He lets her continue, but his fingers brush over something warm. “Take it,” she whispers. “Hand warmers.” She reaches around, nodding at yet another person who’s passing along whispered condolences and then hands out a second one Eddie. “I like you and your fingers attached.”

Eddie can’t help the exhale of laughter. He slips the warmers into his pockets, satisfied with the relief they provide to the ache that had settled. Jean winds her arms through the hook in Eddie’s elbow. It’s a gentle hold she has. “Thanks,” he returns softly. 

Jean nods. “Of course.” 

The two Munson men clean up well. It was a fact noticed when they both showed up at the house earlier in the day to escort Jean and her mother to the church. And it’s a fact noticed again as they step into the house again, each of them carrying a dish of some sort of casserole and a bag with other assorted foods too left by community members. Wayne dawned in an black suit with a white collared shirt and Eddie in a black dress shirt and black slacks. It’s clear they attempted their best to match the tone and as much Jean appreciates the efforts, something inside her veins still boils. 

She rips the veil off her head and claws at the buttons of her jacket to shed at least some of the pretending. The black sweater dress her mom forced her to wear still clings to her, but she feels a bit more like herself as she rolls her sleeves up and starts divvying out portions of food. She can’t place it--if it’s anger at the lies, or frustration and fear. But whatever it is, Jean feels it festering. The entire funeral she wanted to shed herself out of her own skin, run to the pulpit and tell them that she’d done it. She’d hit her father so hard she’d killed him and though she is sorry for the accidental death she’d do it again if she had to. 

Maybe it really is fear. At who Jean feels like she’s becoming. 

“I know veggies are, like, evil, but they don’t deserve this kind of torment,” Eddie teases, watching the way Jean jabs the spoon into the dish of string beans. 

“Damn you veggies,” Jean returns in jest and gets one more spoonful into the smaller container. 

“You-you don’t have to do this, you know?”

“Mom and I can’t eat all this. It’s better than going to waste.”

 More than that it keeps Jean’s hands from shaking. It gives her something else to focus on. When it first happened, Jean felt like she was splitting, like she could never get to that position again. But the truth is so much different. If the situation had been the same, she’d do it again. Jean would do whatever it took to keep her mother safe. Her father and her hadn’t been on bad term prior, but the truth of the matter is that as he got more and more violent and angry, the closer the bond with her mother had become. They’d huddled together in the bathroom, in her bedroom, talking in whispers out of fear. Everything had changed in the course of a few months in her family and because of Jean’s action everything was going to change again. 

Jean is capable of so much more than she thought. 

“Our stomachs say thank you in advance then, Jean,” Wayne starts, moving just a hair further into the kitchen. Right behind him, Eddie thinks, is the spot. A couple more feet back and his feet would be planted squarely in the ghost of blood. “You don’t have to be thinking about us right now, but it’s still appreciated.”

“Of course, Wayne.” 

Admittedly the more Jean continues to separate out, the more Eddie realizes this might be the most full their fridge will have been in a while. And it’s not a shameful thought. They did what they needed to do to get by. They survived because they always did and they always will. Eddie and Wayne both take a bag of dishes each and carry them back to the car--it was mutually decided to take Wayne’s car rather than Eddie’s van. 

“You sure you two are going to be alright?” It’s Wayne who asks, stepping back up onto the porch. “I know it might seem uncouth. But really, we’re here if you need us.”

Jean tucks underneath her mother’s arm. “We’ll be okay,” the two women echo. It rings behind the rumble of the car Eddie watches in the side view mirror at them on the porch until they get too small to see. 

“Wayne,” Eddie starts, still watching where he thinks Jean and her mother still are. 

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“What do you do when you know you can’t really do much to fix but you want to help?”

Wayne exhales at the question. Even though he offered to be there for them, he knew an offer like his might feel hollow to them. He meant it, even thinking what they could do--picking up extra groceries, shoveling their driveway in the winter. But he didn’t want to intrude. So he left it vague on purpose. The start for the trailer park opens up to them. 

 “You do your best, boy. You always do your best.”

Eddie stands in the kitchen of the trailer, later, changed out of the dress clothes, a slice of cobbler on his plate. From where he stands, he can see the game Wayne’s left on. It doesn’t intrigue Eddie all that much but he feels like even he needs the distraction. The evening’s just starting to settle, the darkening haze of a setting sun. Eddie’s not sure who made the dessert, but he’s grateful Jean packaged them up a hefty portion of it. 

The phone rings and Eddie shuffles forward, plate in one hand, phone in the other. “Munson residence,” he answers. 

“Eds?”

He knows that voice, though it comes out in a croak. “Yeah, it’s me Jean, sweetheart. You okay?”

“I-I don’t think I want to be alone tonight.” She sniffles into the receiver and Eddie sets the plate onto the counter. “Could-could you come back over? I’m sorry. I know you just left a few hours ago.”

“Ssh, hey, now. It’s okay. I can come back over. Give me ten minutes okay? I promise it’ll be the quickest ten minutes of your life.”

“This is the only time I’ll ask for a quick ten minutes.”

Eddie groans at the suggestive retort. “I hope I’m not too quick in that department. But snuggle up in bed and I’ll be over soon, okay?”

“Quickest ten minutes of my life?”

Eddie nods, though he realizes she can’t see it. “Probably even quicker than that.”

“Okay. Thanks, Eds. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. It means a lot.”

“Of course. You’re welcome.”

“See you soon. Love you.”

Eddie’s already moving to hang up the phone but he chokes on his spit at the last two words. “Did-Jean?”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

She hadn’t hung up. He’d halfways expected no one to reply to his call of her name. He halfway expected there to be dial tone in his ears. But she’s still there. The thump of his throat makes Eddie inhale harshly. Jean said it first--Eddie was sure it was going to be him and then he’d have to live in agony of her taking a bit longer to return it verbally though she’d already shown it through her actions. But Jean said it first. The room spins just a little and Eddie rests his head against the fridge before he exhales. 

“I love you too,” he returns. “See you soon.” Eddie waits for the line to go dead before he hangs up and his hands are shaky. Tears are gathering in his eyes. She said it first. 

When Wayne asks Eddie where he’s headed with a bag on his back, Eddie only returns with, “Going to do my best.” 

Both men nod at each other at the statement and Eddie heads to the van. He hadn’t bothered to change out of the sweatpants or old gym shirt. He’d only thrown on a flannel, his jacket, and shoes. 

The sight of Jean and her mother on the front porch, each with a cigarette in hand, isn't the sight that Eddie thought he’d see, but he says nothing as he pulls the van into park and then climbs up to greet them. He gives a tiny wave as he approaches. Jean offers her chair, but Eddie declines. “I know you said bed,” Jean starts, her voice is thick and it’s clear that at some point she’d cried. Either before she called him or after. 

“A quick smoke break is also acceptable.”

“It’s unbecoming,” her mother teases, sending a wink over to them. “But clearly, we’re beyond that.” She offers the pack and Eddie brandishes his in return. “Acquired taste,” she laughs. 

Jean nudges her mother’s knee. But doesn’t say anything. When it falls to just silence and her mother slips back into the house, Eddie pushes up from the side of the house and settles down in the now vacant seat. Jean pulls in a shaky drag. “At the funeral today, I had to keep myself from telling the whole room the truth.”

“Hopper’s got your back. And you’re the only thing from him probably sending me to jail so…”

“No, I mean, I realized if I had to do it again, I would.”

Eddie nods. It’s not a thought most people probably usually have. Nor is it a thought that he thought Jean would have either. “I hope you won’t have to make a choice like that again.” Eddie takes hold of her knees, thumb rubbing over the cotton of her leggings. 

“I hope not too.” 

In the silence that creeps up, Eddie can’t help the taunt. It’s barreling up his chest and Eddie’s no good with long silences after something so emotional. He knows he should be better. But he’s not. “So you love me, huh?” He leans in, a doopy smile on his face and all Jean does is run her free hand over his cheek. 

“I do. I love you, Eddie Munson.” 

Her gaze is much too tender. It’s going to melt Eddie right here on this cold November night. And he’s going to let it. “I love you, Jean Brown.”

“Thanks for coming over. I need a good cry and my boyfriend to cuddle if you’re up with that.”

“Yeah, for you, I am.”

_______________________

Christmas is a knife through the fog. The fog still lingers and Jean spends most of December trying to get back to work on a regular schedule and the other part is her trying to remember what she's trying to do again with her life. The stares don’t linger in December. There’s fewer apologies, but it still feels like a film over her life that she keeps picking at to clear it all away. But when Eddie gifts her new paints--her old ones having been neglected for far too long and on the brink of being beyond saving--Jean feels the first clear day. Wayne fixes them hot chocolate and they wear matching pajama bottoms. It’s cheesy as hell but when Jean welded the shopping bag with a bright grin, Eddie couldn’t say no. He took the bag, divvying out the items for him and Wayne and agreeing that when they meet the day after Christmas, he’d be wearing them. And the sight of Eddie in the gingerbread covered pants, a W.A.S.P t-shirt covering his torso, she felt like things could actually get better.  

New Years and the beginning of January bring more clearer days. Jean can remember laughing more rapidly than before. Eddie pouts as she braids his hair, and she laughs. When Eddie groans at the cheesy date night of heading down to the local thrift shop to find matching plates to put their painted handprints on, he only does so because Jean will laugh. Jean knows her laughter is not quite the same, but she’s grateful that it still comes amidst the sadness that cuts through. When she walks back into the house after a rough day, she finds herself missing the embrace of her father whose immediate remedy would be a hot chocolate. She misses the man he used to be and she wonders if there was any saving for him. If she hadn’t reacted like she did, could they have gotten back to the old ways? It’s a question that will ever have an answer, and that’s what haunts her. She can never and will never get an answer.

In the early days of February, Jean feels something lighter in her chest. Valentine’s Day is spent with piles of movies rented and a pizza. It’s not how either one would’ve pictured how they’d spend the day either. But it feels right as they share greasy kisses and laugh at the cheesy romantic comedies. Underneath the tenderness is heavier, hotter, more carnal. They know it well, but don’t know it recently. The kisses linger longer now and hands occasionally slip under t-shirts, and it leaves them still breathless as one or both of them break from the kisses at the same time. It is threatening to blossom again but not quite breaking through the bud. 

The TV casts a soft glow over them. The setting sun has provided more than enough light for them. It’s nothing either of them really were going to watch. Eddie had turned it on because it was less distracting to him than his music and he had promised to actually settle down to work on his project. He’d procrastinated for a week and now with the impending pressure of the deadline he had to turn something in, even if it was great to even have the thought of passing the courses. Jean sits on the couch, book in front of her from the public library. While Jean was never an avid reader, she’d started to read more in the winter. To give Eddie’s well loved copies a break in the binding, she’d hunted down her old library card. 

But now, Jean’s just watching Eddie on the floor, tongue poking out just a little as he maneuvers the scissors over the construction paper. “Put your tongue away sir,” Jean teases. 

“Or what?” Eddie huffs back, not sparing her a glance. 

“Or I’m putting it back for you.”

Eddie looks up at the comment, only to see the way Jean mauervers in her position, thighs passing over each other. “Is my concentration turning you on?”

“And if it is?”

“Cute.”

“And if it’s not?” Jean poses.

Eddie tsk, tongue gently tapping the roof of his mouth and the back of his teeth to echo the sound. “You’re a crap liar.”

Jean sighs, head ducking back down on the pages of the book. “Shut up.” It’s embarrassing how anything Eddie does turns her on now. She’d hadn’t pressed him too far too much about sex, still nervous herself about initiating anything sexual. But she couldn’t deny the fact that the months were catching up to her. 

Eddie laughs, pushing up from the floor and settles onto the edge of the couch. He reaches for her knee and Jean gives in easily. He tugs until she’s climbing onto his lap. His hands run over her ribs and he holds her close to his chest. The brush of his jeans over her front causes a small whimper to escape her throat.

Eddie kisses up her neck and then down the other side. “I love it when you’re like this, needy for me. But I do have work to do.”

“Since when have you really cared,” Jean whines. 

“Since someone told me I was on a probationary period with my balls.”

Jean snorts. “With the term man,” she corrects. 

“Same thing.”

“Absolutely not,” she retorts. Jean presses in, lips sealing around Eddie’s. She does want him to actually do his work. It’s a greedy kiss, lips parting and meeting and parting and meeting, but it’s not rushed. They take just a few minutes to savor the taste of the other. Jean peels back just a hair. “I-it’s just been a while.”

“Sweetheart, trust me when I say, I know.” Eddie punctuates the sentence by pressing Jean harder down onto his crotch, the pressure against his hardening cock causes him to lose his breath just for a moment. “But I really, really, want you to be in the right headspace for sex. So it may be killing me to have to constantly rub one out in the shower, but I never, never want to push you too far.”

Jean nods, dropping her head to Eddie’s shoulder. She inhales deeply, taking in the mixture of scents. She’d upgraded his cologne for Christmas and every time she gets a whiff, her core clenches. “I’m getting better.”

“I see it, baby. I’m happy you are.”

“Next weekend--mom’s out of town. Do you want to try playing house?” The slow drag of Eddie’s fingers up her spine makes her shiver. But she snuggles in deeper. 

“Why is your mom going out of town?” 

“She just told me a couple weeks ago she’s considering if she wants to sell the house and move back to Cincinnati.”

Eddie's throat jumps, the teasing touch turning into a fearful embrace. Jean leaving him? Would she even stay in town? He gets it--if she needed to get away from this town now especially after everything. If that’s what she needed to do, Eddie would try his best to make it work. He’d have to find a more reliable vehicle for those trips. A large feat to get a new car, but not impossible. “Do-do you want to move with her?”

“I don’t know, if I’m being honest, Eds. I want to get away, but I want to get away with you too. I know Cincinnati isn’t a metal scene, but I don’t know. Feels like we could start fresh maybe. If you want, of course. You still have lots of friends and the band here. There’s a lot that’s sort of just up in the air.”

There’s a lot of unknowns. The rest of the band was pretty much just riding through their final years of high school. It wasn’t clear where they were headed just yet. Eddie himself still needed to graduate. And Jean--did Jean even want what she had before? “Are you going to be staying at the shop? If your mom decides not to move, do you want to stay there or try and make the jewelry and art more permanent things. There’s still downtown--a lot of buildings for sale. Could easily be converted into a studio and shop.”

“Oh my god, Eddie, are you already plotting out our whole lives or something?” Jean pushes up from the position. Her tone is sarcastic and teasing, but her smile is soft. 

Eddie takes in a deep breath, always a little thrown off by her dazzling smile. He hates to admit that sometimes when they’re hanging out or when he was supposed to be paying attention in class he was thinking about her, what life could look like for them. And it’s amazing to feel something is so full of possibility. “What if I have?”

“Tell me. Please.”

“Alright, well, here it goes. Strap in.” Eddie wraps his arms around her waist and she nods, laughing a little. His fingers tap at her lower back as he speaks, “We buy two abandoned shops downtown right next to each other. You have earlier hours than I do, 10 to 6, maybe 7. I stroll in around noon and I stay until 8. And you always have to come drag me out of the records shop because you know I can lose track of time. You’ve got jewelry in the front of your store, yeah. Then some art that you’re okay selling. On the weekends you hold workshops, kids, adults, bored teens come in and you teach sessions only from 11 to 4 then. And you hate, and I mean hate when I open up shop because I am blasting music way too loud, but I make sure to only keep it loud for the first hour and then I turn it down and maybe I’m giving guitar lessons because let’s face it it’s extra money to make. I play gigs, try out for a few bands. But a band does take off. We hire some help at the record shop while I’m off touring. And baby, life is fucking good. That’s all I want, with you.”

Jean captures his lips in a kiss. “I like the sound of that, Eds.”

“Hmm, I’m glad.” He punctuates the sentences with another kiss. “But seriously, I need to finish this.”

“Yes, yes, I know. But next weekend?”

“We’re on. We should have a date night. Go somewhere.” He leaves off the rest, We haven’t had a date night in a while. Because it’s obvious why they haven’t. They did small things, but hadn’t really gone out in a while. 

“Arcade? I’m happy to kick your ass in any game there.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“Thanks, stud muffin.” They share one last kiss before Jean peels herself off Eddie’s lap. He returns back to the project at hand, throwing a lazy slap behind him at the tease of Jean’s ass shaking in his periphery. 

“Behave, woman!”

As the weekend approaches, Eddie takes inventory of the list he’d scratched down what feels like a lifetime ago. Though he doubts Jean and he would even get to this--it would be their first time being intimate since the end of October, early November. But there’s a voice in the back of his head that tells him it’s better to be prepared and be overly prepared at that, than not not be prepared at all. So he packs up the silk ties he fashioned, grabs a couple of his bandanas, and the feather paddle. It hadn’t been easy to get the last item without Jean seeing. But he managed on one of her days off to get up to the store to snag it. On top of it of course, he tosses in clothes for the weekend, his body wash and deodorant and other necessities. There’s a moment when Eddie lifts the bag up, he thinks what’s at the bottom will burn a hole right through it, but it won’t. Nothing is bad. It’s just personal. He doesn’t want any of this getting out. 

When Friday morning rolls around and Eddie pulls into the parking lot of the school, his chest feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest. He leaves his weekend bag in the van but his fingers run over the list. At the bottom he scratched down the safe word, wanting to remember it himself before he tried to even breach the topic with Jean. She’d agreed to come after school again for Hellfire and then they’d head over to the arcade after. Undoubtedly, they’d get sucked into too many rounds of Pac-man, Dig Dug, Tetris--a game Jean was a wizard at to Eddie’s annoyance but he loves to see her locked in, lip tucked between her teeth as she concentrated--and Space Invaders--a game Jean has to put Eddie a timer on or else they’re there until the arcade closes.

It hardly seems important to worry about classes or work when he knows that just after the ring of the last period’s bell he’s going to be spending time with the love of his life. And he can almost hear Jean’s retort that he’s being dramatic, but it doesn't matter. He’ll be dramatic as needed when it comes to her. Eddie does his best, lessons in each class passing with varying levels of his attention. He can fake the funk just for a few more hours. “How much you want to bet it’s about Jean?” Gareth asks as he approaches the lunch table. Eddie’s already pressed into the end, lazily feeding himself pretzels. 

“I don’t think we have to bet at all,” Jeff returns. “It’s sort of adorable, just a little.”

“It’s just a little bit sickening,” Mike returns. 

“It’s endearing,” Dustin counters. 

“You all are being very obvious,” Eddie calls out. 

“We’re still on for tonight, right?” Dustin questions. Eddie nods. “Is Jean coming?” he tests the waters, settling down in his normal spot at the table. He likes having her around, but it’s clear something else is on Eddie’s mind. 

“She is.”

“I like it when she’s there. Has she thought about joining a session as a player? I think she’d be a great cartographer.” 

Eddie hadn’t really broached the subject with Jean. She listened to him when he need to talk through campaign stuff, but it was his world--a thing for Eddie all alone. Jean didn’t seem like she wanted to dabble. It didn’t even strike Eddie that he never felt the need to bring the world fully to her. She took what she wanted and Eddie wonders if that’s how the two of them worked. He wasn’t into art, but when Jean wanted to talk about it or wanted his opinion about a piece, he was happy to slip into her world and then slip out of it. 

“If she wants,” Eddie returns to Dustin’s question. 

“I’d like to play with her,” Dustin states. It’s a simple fact, but Eddie finds himself perking up a little more that others were taking to her too. She wasn’t around a lot--a product of Eddie having to repeat his senior year a third time. But it is nice to know that when she is around, Jean is meshing well with his friends. 

The rest of the table fills in and the conversation migrates to the toilet in the boys locker room that overflowed, making for an interesting P.E. session for those unfortunate souls that had the class early in the day. The rumors are easy to turn recount--a massive shit, someone purposefully trying to clog the plumbing with paper towels. It's an easy conversation to hold and then smaller pockets break out. Gareth, Jeff, and Eddie contemplating what to play and practice for the next gig at The Hideout. The ease of the conversation passes too fast and before they know it there’s still three and a half more hours of class to struggle through.  

Eddie sits, in the middle of the back row, legs bouncing in the chair. He tries to keep the chains tapping against the seat to a minimum by holding them in his hands. His fingers run up and down the divots. But the truth of the manner is that he does not give a shit about chemistry or oxidation. He just needs the bell to ring. Ring, ring, ring, he chants in his head watching the seconds ticking down

When it does, he’s almost the first one out of the classroom door. He slithers through the hallways in a half jog. Others are at lockers and Eddie’s heading for the front door. He finds his van and parked right next to it is Jean, already leaning against the hood of her car. He takes out into a sprint, barely checking for buses and cars. Jean pushes up, sweater falling off her shoulder as she takes a couple steps closer. 

“Hey,” Eddie exhales, wrapping her up in a hug. He doesn’t miss the skirt she’s wearing--a pleated yellow, black and white plaid number that’s shorter than normal and absolutely not the jeans she normally wears. Her legs are covered by stockings coming up to her thighs. “Is this for Hellfire? Because I have to say, I am jealous if it is.”

Jean laughs, pulling out of the embrace. “It’s for the arcade and date night. I didn’t want to do a costume change.”

Eddie takes a brief skim of the tops of her thighs between the bottom of the skirt and the tops of the black thigh high stockings. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“No, you are. And it’s called Dungeons and Dragons,” Jean slips her hands down to tap him on the ass. “C’mon. We gotta step up.”

“I know what I want to set up.” Eddie sends her a wink but digs out the box of figurines and his notes before they start back to the doors. They’ll only have a couple hours at the arcade as is. Jean’s got the late shift on Saturday and while they could use Saturday morning for a date night, it felt like they were both possibly expecting tonight to be long. 

Jean cracks open the door to the drama room, to find Mike and Dustin already pulling the chairs and desk together in the center. “Hey, boys,” she calls out with a wave as she holds the door open with her body for Eddie. 

“Hi Jean!” Dustin beams. “Glad you could join tonight.”

“Excited to see what trouble the party gets into today,” she laughs. It’s easy to pull out the movement map and place the figurines in front of where everyone usually sits. The rest is really up to Eddie with his notes and divider, which she’s careful not to mess with too much as she doesn’t want anything to spill out. 

“Eds, babe, did you forget your dice?” Jean calls out peering back into the empty box. 

“I got them with me,” he returns.

“Oh, whoops. Missed you grabbing them out of the box.” 

The room settles soon after--Jean to the left of the throne, next to Dustin, Eddie’s jacket draped over her lap. Jean would bet money Eddie placed it over her lap as a sign to the room where the boundaries lie. As the session progresses, Eddie notices Jean leaning in more and more. She doesn’t give anything away, just peeks every so often to double check Eddie’s being fair about his rolls and watching on the edge of her seat as the guys make their roles too. Dustin rolls a nat 20 at a crucial moment and she pops out of the chair, cheer erupting deep from her chest. 

“Fuck you, Vecna. Fuck you!” she roars, one hand clutches Eddie’s jacket to her waist still but the other pumps into the air as she takes a lap around the room. She flips Eddie off. “You son of a bitch!”

Eddie can only laugh at her excitement. But his heart nearly bursts out of his chest as he watches Jean celebrate with Dustin. The rest of the group is celebrating too, claps and cheers echoing around the room.

“That’s my line,” Dustin returns to Jean amidst his clear excitement.  

“By all means,” she gestures, waving out the figurative red carpet for him. She settles back down to Eddie’s left. 

He gestures for her to lean in closer and when she does, Eddie caresses her cheek. “Angel, you’re cute when you’re excited. But please do not shake the players. It scares them.”

Jean laughs, but nods. “Please have the signage up more clearly next time.”

“Noted,” he huffs. “Smartass.”

“Sure am. And guess what, I’m your smartass so get used to it.”

“Hmm,” Eddie returns as if deciding if he wants to get used to it or not. 

The session for the night ends on a high note and the clean up is quick.  The evening is cooler, but it’s not grueling with the cold just yet. Eddie is still quick to get the things into his van so Jean can get into the warmth of her car. It’s not too much longer from them pulling out of the school parking lot that the arcade comes into view. They park side by side in the lot. But Eddie captures her wrist. It slows Jean down and she looks up through her lashes. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she huffs. 

“Look at you like what?”

“Like you love me.”

“Heavens, no, too tender of a gaze for the love of my life, huh?”

“Heart can’t take it,” Jean laughs before pushing up for a kiss.

 Eddie knows he shouldn’t, but the deeper the kiss gets, the lower his hands fall down her back, over her ass until his fingers are curling into the back of her fleshy thighs. Jean only gasps and Eddie takes the surprise to graze her bottom lip. Her hands are slipping around his waist, pulling his hips into hers. 

“Eddie.”It comes out like a plea, like she wants to ask something else, but doesn’t. 

“Yes, lovely?”

“I kind of do what to have a date night with you, but you’re making it hard not to want to go back to my place.”

The desire to slip his hand under her skirt right to her core rises, but Eddie wants a date night too. He wants to hear her laugh, illuminated by blues and yellows off the screens. He wants to hold her close as they eat burgers way too late that are no good for them. He wants to in their own way wine and dine her before they even consider sex again. 

“One more kiss,” he bargains. “You can’t say no to these big ol’ chocolate eyes. I know you can’t.”

Jean lets her laughter fall freely. “I don’t want to say no--that’s the difference. So I won’t,” she states before pressing one last kiss to Eddie’s mouth. “Now, who’s on quarter duty? I can’t remember if I was last time.”

“I’ll take it, if you don’t mind getting us food?”

“Sounds like a good deal.”

 Between the two of them, Eddie knows it’s going to take about three or four dollars for the machines. But he goes for an even five just to be safe. With his pocket full of change, Eddie turns to Jean. “Lady’s choice first.”

“Oh, hmm,” Jean starts turning to the array of machines. She almost says Burger Time just to annoy Eddie, but she spies Tetris opening up so she makes a beeline for the machine. It doesn’t necessarily fill up fast, but once someone gets going, they’re in for a while. She has to seize the opportunity while she still can. If not, it will be another hour before the machine opens up again. 

“Of course,” Eddie laughs, following behind her. 

Jean slots in at the machine, palm up for the coin. Eddie plops the quarter into the machine instead. She welcomes Eddie circling his arm around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. The blocks start to fall from the top and her fingers are deft over the buttons to rotate and place on the board. Eddie watches as the screen clutters up, almost too full for it to work out, but she gets a long block to slot into the bottom five rows that were still waiting and the whole screen filters down again only a couple rows waiting to be complete. 

40,000 points come and go in a blink. Then 75,000. She creeps up to 90,000. Eddie waits for the triple digits and when they blink over the screens, he squeezes her waist a little. Jean takes just a second to look over his face. If she didn’t know better, by the poke of his tongue, she would think Eddie is the one playing. But she can’t afford too long of a distraction. 225,000 points glows as her final score. 

“Oh, one more,” Eddie encourages, the coin already falling into the machine. 

Her score didn’t break the top ten and Eddie knows she’s got better in her. Jean nods, working the controls again. The tickle of Eddie’s breath leaves her mind as she keeps track of her rows, assessing the pattern of the blocks that fall. 680,000--the score breaches the 9 top score.

“Another?” Eddie asks. 

“Maybe later. I don’t want to bore you.”

“I am far bored,” Eddie teases, pulling her firmer against him. The semi hard on is clearer and Jean purposefully grinds back as she leads them back away from the machine. None of them say anything about it. 

“Your turn,” Jean retorts, lightly tapping his outer thigh. “I’m sure of it,” she tacks on to avoid the primed question.

They alternate--picking games to play for a round or two. Eddie gets Jean on for a round of Space Invaders and it goes poorly, her laughing at her poor reflexes. Eddie is there, behind her, hands laying over her to help her get a feel for the timing. His laughter is soft as Jean squeals at her failure. 

“I’m terrible, Eds, I told you.”

“Nah, sweetheart, you did great for your second time.”

“Yeah, did so great at being terrible. I didn’t even get a fourth of your score.”

“I can’t touch your score in Tetris,” Eddie laughs. 

“Oh, it’s not hard. C’mon. I could teach you.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll leave you to your blocks. That game would make my head explode. Your turn.”

It would be easy to say Tetris, considering it’s still open. But she’s curious to see what sort of damage they can do together. They bounce to Dig Dug, then Pac-Man upon Eddie’s request. And when he requests Jean to pick again, she takes another survey of the room. Jean knows soon the arcade will be closing as the crowd is thinning. She spots Dragon’s Lair. She’s noticed it before, but never really gravitated towards it. Taking Eddie by his wrist, she leads them to the machine. She spins within inches of it. “What do you say, Dungeon Master?”

“Firstly, Dungeons and Dragons is vastly different from this. But secondly, I love the sound of that from your lips. So hell yeah.”

Jean laughs reaching into the pocket of Eddie’s jacket. Her fingers find the change and something else. She pulls both of them out. Eddie doesn’t seem to be noticing too much as he peers over the introductory screen. She reads the list. Silks (or silk adjacent), blind fold (or blind fold adjacent), pillows (for knees), gag?, paddle or whip?, safe word (HIGH priority). Safe word is scratched through and sour cream is written down next to it on the same line. 

“You okay, Jean?” He’d gotten distracted trying to piece together what the game might be about but even he noticed how long it was taking for Jean to fish out a quarter. He spies the list in her hand and almost wants to vomit. Not how he wanted to bring this up. He’d do it over popcorn and shitty movies or while they listened to the chirps of early spring‘s night. Not in the arcade. And not by it being an accident at that. “Shit. I didn’t bring that assuming you’d want to go that far. I brought it to be safe in case you did. Again, I don’t--it’s important that you feel the most comfortable with whatever we do.”

“I almost forgot--that we even started talking about it,” Jean whispers. “With everything that had gone on, this feels like years ago.”

Eddie reaches up to gingerly take the list, but Jean holds to it. He doesn’t fight her, but he does hover for the moment should she want to give it up. “I--It’s okay if you don’t want to anymore.”

“I never said that Eddie.” Her tone is firm, like she wants to make it clear that he ought not to make assumptions about the words that she stating. 

Eddie nods, resting his hand instead on the side of her stomach, fingers splaying onto her waist. “You don’t have to agree to it tonight, that's all I want to make clear. There’s plenty of time for us to work back up to that.”

“I do want it, what we talked about.” Jean ends the sentence there, but Eddie notices the way she parts her lips--more threatening to spill out but then she exhales hard and lets the sentence die before it births itself. 

“No,” Eddie returns. “Tell me. Please.”

“I’d like to try tonight. It-I know it’s about my comfort and you don’t want to push me. I’ll do whatever you want and feel comfortable doing. But I want to at least try.”

There’s the edge of a whine in her voice and it turns up into a bit of fear. I’ll do whatever you want. Eddie takes in her face--eyes glassy and pleading. If it’s what he wanted and she knew he wouldn’t go hard, then he could still take it easy. It didn’t have to be a deep dive like she was saying. He could still give her what she wants. But he wouldn’t have to push himself out of his own comfort zone either. It would take time for both of them to get into anything heavy. Or it would for Eddie at least. Her well being, physically and emotionally, took precedent over his own sexual desires or fanasties. It might kill him to have vanilla sex for a while, but he’d rather that than running the risk of scaring Jean. 

“Okay,” Eddie agrees softly. “We can try tonight.”

Jean beams, tucking the list back into his pocket. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he scoffs. “We still need to get through it all first.”

“For being willing,” Jean continues on.

“Of course, princess.” They share a tender kiss and Eddie keeps his forehead pressed to her. “Dragon’s Lair or do you want food?”

“One try at this, then food? I didn’t eat much for lunch,” she admits. 

“Did you eat at all today?”

“Breakfast. And like almonds for lunch.” Eddie balks for a moment, hands wrapping tighter around her side. Like he’s going to force both of them out of the arcade in an instan. Jean takes hold of his wrist. “It wasn’t on purpose! I woke up really late today after being up after work until like 2 in the morning. I had to get to the post office, run by to see Hopper, and drop off the painting I did for the Thompsons’. I just--forgot.” 

It feels like a lame excuse to give, to simply forget. But it’s the truth. She did forget. She managed to eat breakfast. But in the time it took to chat with Hopper and then get to the Thompsons’ before Hellfire, she was already left scrambling and pressed for time. Over the weeks, she’s gotten used to stopping by the police office to speak with Hopper. Usually it centered around the case, but it soon became just check ins. He asked about her mother, and even Eddie. Jean doesn’t tell Eddie when Hopper asks about him. It’s never detailed—mostly checking in to make sure the two of them are still okay, that Eddie’s treating her right. 

Eddie sighs at the confession. “Why were you up late?”

“I wanted to finish The Lord of the Rings. Which reminds me I have to return that by Sunday.”

“Oh—what do you think?” 

“It takes a whole different side of my brain to get it but I liked it. Felt transported that’s for sure.” 

Eddie can handle that. It is dense and he’s just glad she gave it a shot at all. The kiss to Jean’s forehead is soft. “I’m glad you liked it. I can return it if we don’t get up and going before your shift tomorrow.” 

Jean nods her agreement to the compromise. “I’ll take any more recommendations too.” 

“We should give your brain a break. You’re not even in school anymore. Soon though, I’ve got something I think you’ll like too.”

“Promise?”

Eddie holds up his pinkie and Jean wraps hers around. “Promise,” Eddie states after kissing her digit. “Now, only one game and then food. I’m not going to have you passing out on me.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“C’mon. Let’s save a princess.” 

“Who, me?”

“Another princess,” Eddie huffs, but grins at the joke. 

The game’s not too terribly complicated and Eddie much like in Space Invaders rests his hands over Jean’s as they work together. Jean’s eyes are a bit faster than Eddie’s but Eddie’s reflexes are faster thanks to the years of guitar. Two halves that make that complete the whole--never perfect, but always complete. The feeling of her pressed in so close makes Eddie feel secured. Though he’s shielding around her, arms threaded through her sides, his back facing the rest of the arcade, Eddie is grateful for the feeling of Jean’s laughter rumbling through her. It grounds him as they work through the castle and dodging attacks. 

Jean jumps when the flames lick at them, unprotected to the dragon’s wrath. Eddie manages to dodge his head out of the way to avoid the back of her head bashing into his jaw, but he doesn’t release her--arms wrapping around her waist even tighter. 

“Jesus, that scared me. We were so close,” she laughs, hand settling over her chest. 

Eddie almost offers one more game but then he reminders she hasn’t eaten. “We can try again later, sometime. I’m sure Princess Daphne will understand that we need first food.”

“Burgers? I’m starving.”

“Of course. Do you take for some kind of common whore who doesn’t go for burgers on date night.”

“Never,” Jean laughs. “I would never take you as such.”

Eddie didn’t disbelieve Jean’s claims to be starving but when she orders an extra helping of fries and eats every single of them, Eddie knows the depth to her earlier confession. She hadn’t eaten much earlier in the day. Eddie offers to cover dessert, but Jean shakes her head. “You sure?”

“Sure,” Jean laughs, sipping down the last of her Coke. “Do you want anything?”

Eddie shakes his head, rings tapping into the table in front of them. “As tempted as I am to get a milkshake, I think you and your sheets will prefer me not to.”

Jean snorts. “It’s not like you haven’t boxed me in with your farts anyway.”

“It was once,” Eddie retorts. 

“Twice--I shouldn’t have suggested pizza the second time.”

“Maybe twice. But I’m going to need proof the second time before I agree to it.” 

They share a small tuft of laughter before Jean pays the bill and they head to her place. It’s strange to be in two different cars, heading to the same place, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. It only feels this way because Eddie sort of envisioned this all differently. A slow build, where they went maybe somewhere fancy or he cooked for them at one of their places. It would be an all day sort of build up. The saving grace is that there is still plenty of time to work up to things. Eddie didn’t have to do anything that would make him uncomfortable like Jean had mentioned previously. They could take it easy on the first swing around. It would help them learn anyway--slow and steady.

 He turns down the dial on his radio the sounds of Dio Rainbow In The Dark swirling around in his head. When he first heard the song, he wanted to cry. Not that Eddie would admit to many people that he’d listened to metal for more than just the guitar riffs and thumping bass drum. But he did. A byproduct of his father being in jail, never having his mother in his life beyond the early years and spending a couple years floating as a ward of the state before his Uncle Wayne got settled enough to take him in, is that Eddie had to rely on himself. He’s always felt like he was just destined to fade into the background. And he didn’t want it. Eddie wanted someone to care about him and he wanted someone--anyone-- to notice him. 

The paradox of his life--wanting people, creating a shield to keep from getting hurt again, but still wanting people. It makes sense to avoid pain as much as possible. To find something that will make the pain either non-existent or ensure it’s never felt again. Eddie had created a vortex that only few people dared to enter and those that did he learned to trust. But he’d been the in part the reason for his own isolation. He had a hand in stirring the pot because as long as anyone too scared by the facade stayed away Eddie was safe. 

The funny thing about feeling safe is that it is not a feeling created alone. Feeling safe has to have the right combination. Eddie feels safe with Jean because she is the right combination of supportive, understanding, and steadiness to call Eddie out on his own shit. Eddie feels like he’s been spotted, and that such a spotlight is only created because of love is because it is Jean that’s doing it. Safety is not created alone. In return, Eddie hopes that he can create that sense of safety with Jean too--tonight and always. 

Eddie knows the rules--no shoes in the house past the entrance but he breaks it, taking Jean gently by her wrist and nodding down the hallway for her to continue down with him. “It’s us playing house for the weekend, remember?” he grins. 

“And playing house means you’re sweeping the floors then.”

“With honor,” Eddie laughs, leading them all the way to her bedroom. Her room opens to the beige walls that are just barely covered in magazine cutouts and posters. It’s not a lot--just her bed decorated in a purple bedspread, a desk, and vanity. One window decorates the room’s wall. The closet is on the same wall as the door. It’s just enough decoration with the photos tucked into the corners of her mirrors. It’s just enough that Eddie knows it’s Jean’s. 

Eddie hoists her up onto the bed. It’s not high by any means and Jean laughs as she lets him lift her. Her descent makes the end of her skirt fly up and there’s just a hint of pink lace covering her. The groan that Eddie can feel in his chest is forgotten as he kneels down onto the shag run covering her hardwood floors--it’s not really about him anymore. It’s all about her. All about Jean. The boots aren’t new--he can tell by the creases on the toes and he scuffs. 

“So,” Eddie starts, pulling at the lace on the right boot, “sounds like you had an eventful day--Hopper, post office, Hellfire. Not too tired?”

Jean watches from above. Her fingers just barely brush back some of his curls. “No. Not tired. How-how was your day?”

The second boot lands to the floor harsher than the first, mostly due to Eddie’s slight tremble. But it’s worth it--building this slowly because safety is not a feeling made alone. Eddie pushes up from the floor, slipping out of his own shoes and jacket before climbing onto the bed behind her. Her question still lingers as Jean watches Eddie reach back for her. She slides across her comforter until she’s situated between Eddie’s legs, pressing her back into his chest. They both sink just a little into the pillows. Jean had forgone a headboard opting to use her desk most of the time and she liked having more pillows anyway. But it did create a deep pocket of pillows on her bed as a result.

Eddie slips his fingers just under the hem of her sweater, fingers gently brushing over the top of the skirt. “I thought I was going to lose my mind until I could see you,” he chuckles. 

“Little old me?” Jean returns, turning her head. She’s greeted by the sight of Eddie’s neck. He hums in response to the question. “Tell me about it. Your day.”

“Boring, really,” Eddie returns. 

Jean shivers at the brush of Eddie’s fingers over her stomach. He traces the band of her skirt but nothing more--no pressure, no kneading. Just the ever so delicate trace of the tips of his fingers--slow and steady. She inhales again at his scent, nose brushing just ever so slightly over the column of his throat. “Tell me, please,” she whispers into his skin. Though her core aches and part of her wants Eddie to ravish her. She does care that he had a good day at the very least. It matters--it feels that they linger here in this space. “Classes, Hellfire, everything.”

“You were there for the last part of it,” Eddie returns with a shaky laugh. Her exhales ghost over skin and Eddie can feel them in his spine. 

“I’ll listen to it again.”

Eddie pulls his hands out from under her sweater, fingers now picking just a little at the skirt.  “Classes were whatever. Managed a C+ on that project from last week.”

“Proud of you,” Jean returns. 

“Th-thanks. I think the boys of Hellfire are more enamored by you than I am,” Eddie teases. “If a little squirt like Dustin loves you, then I think it’s safe to say you’re officially in good with them.”

Jean can’t really pay attention to the words, not with the way Eddie keeps hitching the hem of her skirt up higher and higher. She does manage a laugh at the comment about Dustin. She’s zeroing in on how his fingers brush over the tops of her thighs. Eddie continues on and Jean’s sure now he’s probably thoroughly distracted with his own recounting. He won’t notice the way she crosses her legs, praying that the squeeze will provide some relief. 

“Tsk,” Eddie returns, fingers wrapping into the meat of her inner thighs and pulling them apart. “Did I say you could cross them?”

“No-no, you didn’t.”

Eddie gets her legs parted. Though the fullness of her thighs don’t leave a gap in the uncross, Eddie leaves them touching but not crossed. “Stay there, doll,” he whispers. “And I was going to compliment this choice too--a skirt to greet me and spend the afternoon.”

Jean hums at the brush of his lips to her ear. “I know normally it’s not my normal attire.”

“Dressing up for a special occasion?”

“Trying to, at least,” Jean returns. 

Eddie drags his fingers along the edge of her inner thighs, playing at the line they create as they touch. He goes up and under the skirt, but stops just an inch shy of her lace covered core and then drags them back down her outer thigh. “As I was saying,” he starts, watching the way Jean fists the ends of her sweater. “Dustin asked if you wanted to join us, play a session or two.”

“Dungeons and Dragons?” Jean questions, exhaling hard. 

“Yeah. If you want of course. I’ll help you build your character up of course.”

“I-I like watching.”

“Then you can just watch.” The sentence hangs--one beat, then two. Eddie’s fingers have paused on the teasing. Should he? He wants to. He’s hoping this isn’t too much. It’s why he asked if she was tired. If she’d said yes, or Eddie felt like she was covering up something he was going to say they could table it, wait until later. But her response was even from her lips. “I want you to watch me, doll,” Eddie states, each word equally measured over his tongue as they fall. 

Jean watches as one hand comes up to her jaw, head tilting down. “Okay.” It’s quiet, but not a weak submission. “I’m watching.”

Eddie flips the skirt up. Jean takes in the sight of her own stomach, and just below it she sees the crotch of her panties. Safety is not a feeling made alone. While he could easily just go for his next move, he thinks there’s something enticing to Jean knowing what’s coming next but having to wait for it--the anticipation of her own pleasure. “Why pink?”

“Thought you’d like it.”

“Thank you for thinking of me,” Eddie breathes, kissing her temple. 

“Do you? Like it?” His fingers are teetering, playing at the seam of her pelvis. Every muscle feels like it’s light on fire as Jean tenses at the touches. 

“I do. I really do like it. I’m going to pull these stunning little panties to the side, okay, love? Going to touch your clit, okay?”

Jean nods. She counts the seconds it takes for Eddie to move from hovering to capturing the side of underwear--four seconds. Much too long after the direction, but when the cool air hits her, Jean exhales hard. 

“Bend your knees, a leg on either side of mine,” Eddie instructs and Jean does as told. Her core disappears from her sight, the round edge of her own belly hiding it away from her. Another six seconds--two more than last time. But when Eddie’s fingers press into her clit, Jean ruts her hips up. “Hey, hey, sweet thing. I got you.”

Jean clings to the voice, I got you. Jean nods. Eddie always has. She’s never been worried about that.“I know. Just missed this.”

“Missed me playing with your pussy?”

Jean only gets a sigh out. It sounds content. 

“I let it go one time.” Eddie pauses on lazy circles he’s been making. “But when I ask you a question, I need a verbal response, okay? The second you go nonverbal on me, I’m going to assume that’s you wanting out. Do you understand?”

The air is tight in Jean’s lungs. It hurts that Eddie’s stopped touching her. Him playing lazily at clit is better so much better that her own fingers. “Yes,” she hisses. 

“Good girl,” Eddie returns, resuming his earlier work. “I know we said you’d let me do whatever you wanted and I so appreciate you trusting me. I’m going to take my time, okay? We’re going to take things real slow this first time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jean huffs out. “Sounds good.”

“Good.” 

Eddie drags his fingers down from her clit down to her entrance. He gathers the wetness dripping and drags it back up to her clit. Her breasts are obstructing just a bit of his view. But the sight of Jean laying against me, hips tensing, stomach jumping at his touch makes up for what he can’t see. Eddie listens to the hitch of her breath when he presses down harder and listens to the whines when he eases up. There’s just the huff and whines filling the air. Edde drinks in the sounds. He knows in part they’re all going straight to his cock. He briefly wonders if Jean can feel it against her back. But even if she did, he assumes she doesn’t mind it much. 

“Is-is now a bad time to tell you I bought you something?” Jean asks. 

Eddie kisses her temple again, one hand teasing the seam of her pelvis and inner thigh, the other still working over her clit. “What did you buy me, sweet thing?”

“Well-fuck, shit. It came with the set, really,” Jean hums, eyes still locked on the work and flex of Eddie’s forearms. She watches the ticks of his muscles and it tells her more than she ever needs to see. He’s going to drag this out. He’s going to take his sweet time with her and she loves the idea already. 

“I’m listening,” Eddie returns. 

“It’s-it’s in my drawer, the night stand. Can I get it?” Jean whines on the last word, a gasp falling from her mouth. 

“Hmm, lovely, you can get it for me after you come once. How does that sound?”

“Eds,” Jean huffs, mind fuzzing over just slightly with the growing pleasure. He’s kept a steady pressure now, pausing every so often to drag her own arousal back over her clit. 

“Answer me please, doll.”

“Shit,” Jean pants at Eddie’s paused fingers. “Okay, I’ll come for you. Just don’t stop.”

“You have to answer me in order for me to continue.”

“I know. I will. I promise.”

“Atta girl,” Eddie grins, watching her hips rise up into his fingers. 

It’s just enough pressure. Just enough pleasure and touch for Jean to feel the impending orgasm. She keeps watch for as long as she can on Eddie’s fingers circling her clit, on the hand that drags up her stomach. He pauses at one breast, and she just barely hears the instruction that he’s going to play with her nipple before she lets a soft yes fall from her lips. Eddie cups the flesh of her chest over the shirt and over her bra and pinches until the nipple hardens into his grasps. 

Her head falls back into his shoulder, mouth agape with the moan that escapes her. It’s making her sink. Every time Eddie gives her a warning before the touch, she finds more and more she craves the ability to drop. She doesn’t care what he does because it’s him. Because she knows she’ll be safe within his control. But God, she loves the way everything hangs with anticipation. The move is known, but the timing is not. Jean digs her heels into the mattress when the timing of Eddie’s fingers match between her nipple and clit. 

Eddie knows it’s happening before Jean realizes it. She begs him not to stop and Eddie can’t think of anything that would. Her nails dig into the denim covering his thighs and then into flesh of his thighs as she rears up just a little. It’s a broken cry that pierces the air around them and then Jean sinks heavier against Eddie. He pulls his hands away, smoothing her skirt back down. 

“So good, did so good for me,” he whispers into her skin as she pants into the air to get her breath back after her orgasm. 

Jean melts into the praise, a smile decorating her face as she turns just a little into Eddie’s hold. He gives her a minute, caressing over her jaw to pass the time. He hadn’t realized just how much this would excite him. His own chest heaves. Jean’s melting like chocolate in his hands. She’ll take whatever shape he demands. But Eddie is mindful to demand carefully. Safety is not a feeling made alone. 

Eddie peels her out of her sweater, a pink lace bra decorating her brown skin. The coolness of the room makes her nipples pebble and he traces them through the fabric of the bra. The flesh of her stomach is soft and malleable under his squeeze. Eddie’s fingers find the zipper of her skirt. “Do you remember our safe word?” he asks in her ear.

Jea nods, “Yes.”

He inches the zipper down. “What is it?”

“Sour cream.”

At the utterance of the phrase, Edde pulls his hands away from her. Jean presses back, whining at the lost contact. “I’m still here, baby. I just--I need you to understand if it’s too much at any time, you use that phrase okay. I will stop. If you can’t speak, slap me.”

The laughter is involuntary but Jean pushes up and faces Eddie. “How about I just tap you twice? Couldn’t slap a pretty face like yours.”

“Thank you, Jean. Two taps. But you have to use those okay? When you need them.”

“Understood.” Jean sits on her knees between Eddie’s legs and he watches her face, the way she takes in the sight of him. Like some part of her can’t believe it. But she should. She should believe it all. “Are you going to stop? Did I do something?”

“No, no sweetheart. Just waiting on you, that’s all. You can tell me when you’re ready again.”

Jean runs her fingers over his thighs. She’s grateful that Eddie is taking it slow. Though it’s slow, it’s still arousing. She still has to wait for him. “I’m ready.” 

“Come here,” Eddie directs and Jean shuffles up. He directs her knees over his hips and settles her so she’s straddled on his waist. “Your skirt, as cute as it is, has got to go,” Eddie muses, finding the zipper again. 

              The material exhales as he gets it fully down and with just a brief warning, Eddie gets Jean up and then lays her flat on her back, taking the skirt down her legs. He kisses over her thighs, teeth catching onto the top of the thigh high stocking. He pulls them down with his teeth, down her ankles over her foot and discards them without a care somewhere and really anywhere that is not Jean. Eddie repeats the action with the left stocking and Jean hums at the feeling of his breath tickling her skin. 

Almost bare, but always beautiful, Eddie drinks in the sight of Jean splayed out beneath him. Anything--he could literally do anything as Jean asked of him but the only thing Eddie wants to do is praise, caresses, kiss. He travels up, kisses pressing over her thighs. He takes a nip at her stomach and Jean’s tuft of laughter sounds like bells above him, twinkling in his ears. He continues up, licking the valley of her breast. 

Their lips just barely brush as Eddie closes in. Jean sighs at the faint touch. “I know that if I die tonight, I’ll have been killed by an angel. Pink was a great choice.”

“Your-your gift?” She meekly motions in the direction of her nightstand. 

“Later, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, sucking at the swell of her breast. “I won’t forget. Right now,” Eddie sighs, teeth grazing her flesh. “Fuck, right now, I just want you.”

“You can have me. You always have had me,” Jean whimpers. Eddie pulled the cup of her bra down. His tongue circles her nipple and all her thoughts are leaving her head. She has just enough clarity to remember she has to respond. If she doesn’t, Eddie will stop. 

“But I want to savor you,” he counters. 

“Please.” Jean takes a firm grip at the t-shirt decorating Eddie’s torso, pulling him in even closer to her. It’s no shock when her hands travel to the buckle of his belt. 

Eddie releases the soft laughter, kissing over Jean’s jaw. “Of course my dear. But you’re greeting handsy and I’m not sure I want you to be this hands on just yet.” At the end of sentence Eddie retreats and Jean lets her hands fall back to the mattress. Her pout nearly breaks Eddie’s resolve but he promised to try. 

Jean watches, opting to say in the position that Eddie left her in, as he rummages through his bag. It feels a bit like a gag in a cartoon, Eddie pulling out clothes, and then underwear, all of his things flying over his shoulder until he gets to where he wants. Jean watches upside down as Eddie approaches, red shiny strips of fabric. He lets the end of one caress her cheek. “Sit up, face me.”

“Am I in trouble?”

Eddie watches the quirk of her brow. Even when she’s supposed to be submitting Jean has the control and facilities to be a smart ass. “Do you want to be? Because your pretty mouth can get you there.”

“No.”

“Then consider this a safety measure. So you won’t be.”

“Okay.” Jean pushes herself up, before having to turn onto her knees to face Eddie. He crocks one finger to get her to come in closer and she responds by plopping herself down on the bed. Eddie pulls her to the edge by her ankles, her legs hanging around his as he stands. He moves her wrist together and Jean threads fingers together to hold them as evenly spaced out as possible. 

It’s quiet between them as Eddie detangles one of the longer pieces. When the fabric brushes over her wrist, Jean wonders when and how she’d never noticed Eddie working on this. But at the moment, she’s glad for her previous ineptitude. He works steadily with the fabric around her wrist, cinching the middle so she can’t slip a hand out. 

“The fabric isn't super strong,” Eddie warns. He’d forgone rope in this situation on purpose. “If you pull too hard it probably will snap. Didn’t want to risk bruising you…just yet.” The last piece gets added with a wink as Jean looks up at him. The smile is shy, but she knows. The thought lingers with him, stirring at a deep desire in him too. 

“So I probably shouldn’t pull or tug too hard.”

“Probably shouldn’t. Unless of course you want trouble.”

Jean shakes her head. “Not yet.”

“I think trouble might be your middle name. Now, you lack a headboard, which makes this next part tricky, but I’m a resourceful man.” He knows the bottom of Jean’s mattress has metal slats that uphold the mattress. Carefully he guides her further up on the bed. “Need you to lay down, alright?”

“I understand.” Jean lets herself recline back. 

Some of her pillows are tossed to the floor to make space, but she goes until her back is flesh against the sheets. Eddie tugs and her arms go up and over her head. It’s not an easy job to get the tie secured enough to the bottom of the frame.

But Eddie manages. “See resourceful.”

Jean laughs just a little at the big grin. “I see.”

He circles the bed, fingers brushing at the comforter and skipping over her ankles and feet. “I’ve always wondered,” he starts, looping back towards where he just left, “how much self control you’ve had.” His actions feel reminiscent of a predator circling prey. But his heart keeps racing and Eddie wishes he didn’t feel the slight tremor. He doesn’t want to fuck this up for her. 

“Not much,” Jean returns honestly. Her gut twists in anticipation. Another wave of arousal soaking her panties. 

Eddie leans in close, elbows supporting him on the mattress, next to Jean’s face. She turns to him, watching closely as he sneaks a hand in closer to ribs but never actually touching them. “Hmm, guess you’ll have to dig deep for me tonight.” He brandishes a neatly folded bandana. “Can you try for me?”

Jean nods, her stomach tensing at the thought. “I can try.” She can more than try at this point, but it doesn’t escape her when she notices just the tiniest bit of a shake.  Though, it might ruin the mood, Jean keeps her voice small and soft as Eddie straddles her waist, not fully settling his weight down. “Eds?”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing good. You don’t have to be scared or worried.”

Eddie cups her cheek in his hand. “Thanks, Jean. You doing okay?”

“More than okay. My panties are a pretty solid indicator of it.”

With a wiggle of his brow, Eddie laughs, body bending forward. “Good.” Their kiss is tender, the sign of them appreciating the check in and allowing the moment to dissolve naturally. Jean keeps her eyes closed as the material presses down on her face. Eddie’s gentle as he guides her head up just a little to get the tie down. It’s tight, clearly done in the hopes it doesn’t budge too much. 

Eddie waves a hand in front of her face and though Jean reacts, turning like she can tell something is in front of her face, Eddie can tell she can’t actually see or follow the moment of his hands. Her movements are delayed and a little sporadic. His fingers brush over her chin. “Don’t move,” he whispers. 

“Okay,” Jean exhales. 

Time slows behind the darkness of the cotton. Her perception is sluggish--it’s delayed. The bed moves slower as Eddie moves from off her. It sounds like it takes longer, between the click of a belt buckle and the zip of pants. The silence moves like centimeters around her, broken only intermittently with Eddie’s shuffling. The rummaging sounds further away and Jean can only inhale and exhale. 

The first brush is against her thighs. She jolts just a little at the sensation. It’s warm. Most likely Eddie’s hands. He squeezes at her flesh, a disapproving sound falling from his chest. “What did I say?”

“Sorry. I can be still. I’m sorry.”

Every touch of his fingers feels like a fire. Jean can never tell where he’s going to be next. If he’s going to kiss her, or touch her. Sometimes it’s a knead. Jean has to tense in order to keep from moving so much. It hurts just a little but she adores it. When Eddie sighs or groans, she meets it with a whine. The touches feel infinite, like she might actually come just from the caresses. A silence has fallen around them and it feels thick with their whimpered exhales. Jean realizes as she flexes her fingers, she is literally on display. 

“God,” she hums. 

“What was that?” Eddie questions. He looks up her body from between her thighs, having parting them to leave kisses along them. 

“I just-I realized I’m just on display for you. You can literally do whatever and I can’t,” even as Jean speaks she clenches around nothing. “I can’t stop thinking how hot it is.”

Eddie grins, kissing her stomach. “I can smell how hot you think it is. What would I find, hmm? Once I peel these pretty pink panties off you, what am I going to find?”

“A mess,” Jean returns, pussy clenching again at his vibrato. 

“Excellent.”

Eddie’s careful as he hooks his fingers into the band of the lace. He peels them away and the sight of Jean’s core opens up to him. She keeps her legs parted like he’d left them and the slick runs down slipping between her cheek. A mess indeed to greet him and he couldn’t be happier. His lower stomach jumps at the sheen--her mess is a clear indication. She hadn’t been lying when she said she was okay. Eddie places a kiss to her clit, bringing the tip of his tongue to get just a taste. Jean’s body shakes, literally shakes at the contact and Eddie’s chest swells. All of this just for him. 

Jean listens to Eddie’s laugh--darker than usual. Her stomach jumps, the anticipation running through her. “Darlin’ you are positively divine,” Eddie hums.

There’s no time for Jean to think of a response before Eddie attaches his mouth to her core. He sucks at her clit before running laps of his tongue from the bottom of her to the clit again. Jean knows she’s going to unravel fast. She’s going to make a mess on his chin and her sheets. But it doesn’t fucking matter because the feeling of Eddie’s tongue on her pussy, fingers firmly pressing her hips down, is enough to make her lose her head. 

Eddie laughs just a little as the feeling of Jean clenching around his finger. She doesn’t even let him get deep in before she’s chanting above him, a mess of praise and curses. “Let me  in, baby. C’mon, you want my fingers. I know you do.”

Jean nods. “I do. I do want your fingers.” It takes almost all her air to push the sentence out but she gets it out so Eddie doesn’t stop. 

His fingers curl and brush against her g-spot. She thinks she gasps but whatever she does tells Eddie all he needs to know. He keeps curling into the same spot over and over and over. His tongue runs around and up and down and she can’t keep track of the sensations. All she knows is that she’s barreling towards her edge. 

Her stomach feels like a knot. Eddie’s pinning her hips down and she wants nothing more than to curl up, let her orgasm take her. The curl is a defense to keep it from hitting her too hard, but she is defenseless. Her orgasm rips through her, a shout tearing over her throat and she wants to tell Eddie she can’t take it anymore. She wants to tell him that it’s all she has, but his fingers never stop--more pressure builds and she’s not even sure where this can come from. 

“Eds, baby, fuck,” she huffs. Her breathing is ragged and yet more and more pressure keeps building. “I think I’m--shit.”

Eddie loves the way she tosses her head, her biceps tense just ever so slightly like she’s thinking about pulling at the restraints, but stops herself. “Do you-” his own grunt interrupts his thought for a moment. “Do you think I could fuck you to another orgasm so quickly? I want-I think I’d like to find out. What do you say?”

“Shit, Eddie, I--” the words die. Jean’s mouth feels dry and she’s desperately trying to find her words.

Eddie’s pace slows. He doesn’t stop but it’s a warning. 

No, no. Respond. Anything will do. “Please,” Jean begs, “use me. Let me be your plaything, a doll, a useless, fucking doll.”

“There we go,” he grins, speeding up again. “Knew you wanted it too.” He lets her hip go, but keeps kisses up her thigh. 

Jean’s sure she’s lost her head. When her third orgasm tears through her, head thrown back and her mouth hanging open as she can feel every muscle spasm, she thinks it could not be a more fitting way to die. Sure, Eddie joked that he might die tonight and sure, he said at least it was an angel that took her out. But Jean flies, she soars out of her own head and sees nothing but a bleeding light through the darkness of her closed eyes as her body quakes. It’s a fitting death and she would die it, this specific way, over and over again. 

“There you are, pretty girl.” Eddie watches, Jean’s blinking eyes, the bandana discarded minutes ago. He traces the lines of her face with the damp washcloth. Her body exhales against him. She has enough slack to turn to her side just a little and Eddie is careful to hold her gently. “You left me for a moment there.”

“Sorry,” Jean hums. Her breath isn’t back fully.

Eddie doesn’t blame her. It definitely sounded like a pretty intense orgasm. “No, no apologizing. It’s okay.” 

Jean inhales, holding it for a couple seconds before releasing it. “I’m not--we’re not done, are we?”

“Call it an intermission, love. You need it. Don’t you think so?”

It’s only at the question that Jean notices how scratchy her throat feels. “A little.” She clears her throat, hoping to help. Eddie presses a kiss to her temple before sliding off the bed, he reaches under the bed and undoes the knot holding her arms up. “There, you should have your arms back.”

Jean gives a test tug and there’s no counterweight. “I do.”

“Good, c’mon. Sit up for me.” 

It’s a bit shaky but Jean gets up and Eddie hands over a glass of water. Jean takes it with a smile, thankfully for the liquid. It’s clearer now the state they’re both in. Eddie down to his boxers, her just in her bra. But it doesn’t feel unnatural or like this pause is ruining something. Eddie leans against the wall, next to her window--thankfully her blinds are almost always drawn shut. The washcloth still dangles from his hand, under the fold of his arms, but it’s clear his gaze is assessing. 

“Better?” he asks. 

“Yeah, water definitely helped.” Jean watches the constantly flickering gaze. She can see now the way Eddie starts to pick at his nails, still trying to keep the front up. “Did I scare you?”

“A-a little,” he returns. “Not-not in a bad way. Just you were out of it for longer than normal.”

“An intermission for you, huh?”

“You too,” Eddie defends, moving in closer now. He takes the empty glass and sets it on her nightstand. “But it does give me a moment to regroup.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jean returns. “Scare you, I mean.”

Eddie squats down, one hand resting on her knee. “I know, baby. We’re both new to it. That’s all.” 

Jean reaches forward, taking her hands to play over the rings on his finger before tracing the veins up to the silver chain bracelet. “I’m definitely going to have to wash my bedding, aren’t I? Tomorrow?”

Eddie grins at the tease, a short raspberry blowing over his lips. “Absolutely, when we get done. Give me just a second, okay? I’m gonna get you another glass of water.”

“Sounds good.”

It really only takes about a minute, maybe even less for Eddie to fill up the glass he fixed for her originally and then fill up another one from the tap for himself. But by the time he returns, Jean’s gotten up and is digging in her nightstand. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

Jean ignores the question for a moment before she holds up a pink lace garter. The front has a cute bow on it and Eddie stares at her triumphant smile. “For you,” she explains. “So we match.”

“Is that what you got me?” Eddie questions, stepping into the room. His throat quivers. It is cute and he does think the idea of him wearing a garter to match her is more arousing than it should be. 

“Do you not like it?” 

Eddie sets both glasses down, plucking the garment from her still bound together hands. His fingers brush over her palms before bringing her hands down to his crotch. Just underneath the boxers lies his hardening cock. “Tell me what you think.”

Jean tightens the hold--nothing too tight, just firmer as she palms over Eddie’s length. “I think you do like it.”

He exhales at her work, eyes fluttering close just for the moment. “Yeah, I do. And before I shamefully come in my boxers, can you please take a seat and drink some more water?”

“For you I think I can,” Jean hums, ensuring to get one last good firm squeeze. 

“I swear to Christ, woman,” Eddie retorts, watching her take a glass. “Maybe you should tie me up next.”

Jean’s laughter echoes in the glass and her swallow is hard. “I mean all you’d have to do is ask.” 

“Do you just step into this?” Eddie asks, lightly pulling the elastic fabric apart. It’s less shameful to ask now about it. He knows Jean’s not going to care. He knows he’s going to enjoy it anyhow. It looks fairly easy to get into, but he’s never worn one so he feels better asking how to wear it before he completely destroys the material. 

“Yeah, like a sock.”

“It’s not-it’s not like going to snap or anything?”

“Eddie, my thighs are much bigger than yours. It will not snap.”

“Your thighs are beautiful.”

“Beautiful and still bigger than yours. These two facts do not negate each other.”

With a detested noise creeping up in his throat, Eddie gets his foot through the opening and then guides it up his calf before letting it snap into place around the middle of his thigh. The hem of his boxers hides it just a little, but Jean steps in, curling her fingers as best she can to roll the bottom hem up. Eddie turns to her mirror. It’s fitting, the soft feel of the lace over his thigh, a pale pink that seems to almost fade into his tone but pops against Jean’s brown skin. 

“It’s pretty,” he states. There are better words, but they fail Eddie. Because that’s what he feels--pretty, as simple and as plain as that. Perhaps, all he really needs is the simplicity of the phrase. “But,” he starts, facing Jean. “Not as pretty as you.”

“You’re a sap.”

“I know I am. Finish your water, yeah?”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Yes,” Eddie laughs, slipping a hand down to her bare ass. “You get a reward.” The sentence is punctuated by a squeeze and Jean rears up to her tippy toes to give Eddie a kiss. It’s needy--her fingers trail over his abdomen, lips pressing and pressing into his. He guides them back towards the bed, getting a grip on her thighs and hoisting her up. 

Once Eddie’s knees find the edge of the mattress, he bends over and lets Jean fall into it. She bounces, but tries to reach for Eddie with her tied hands. “Water,” he commands but follows it with one more kiss.

“Fine.”

He helps her sit up, bringing the glass back to her hands. “Yeah, you’re feeling better.” 

The sass is welcomed at this moment as Jean glares over the rim. There’s nothing to be said as he takes a sip of his own glass. He knows. Jean will always have that streak in her--a fierceness that never shied away from the world. In fact, just the opposite, she wore it like a shield. The more he was around Jean, the more he sort of understood himself. She too wanted to keep some people at bay. Though she isn’t as brash as he is, it’s all still meant to protect. But she doesn’t have to front around him. It’s why they’re here. 

There is no need to hide. 

“I’m going to ask you a couple questions and I just want you to answer them, that’s all,” Eddie states, from against the wall again. His arms are folded. His eyes steady on her face. 

“I can do that.”

“What do you do when I ask you a question?”

“I answer.”

He nods. “What happens when you don’t answer?”

“You stop, taking it as a sign that I don’t want to continue.”

Eddie takes just one step forward. “What do you say when you’re done? When you don’t want anymore?”

“Sour cream.” Jean takes careful notice for another step for the correct answer. 

“What do you do if you can’t talk?”

“I give you two taps.”

He finishes crossing the short distance to Jean, bending down so they’re face to face with each other. His eyes are dark, the hem of the boxers fell long ago hiding away the belt but Jean knows it’s there. His nose brushes over hers, both of them wide in their own right but it never feels awkward. The brush is tender and makes her stomach flutter. If she could, Jean would stretch up and press a kiss to the end of Eddie’s nose. But she doesn’t. She refrains and just inhales the moment. 

 Eddie’s voice is a whisper. “Do you want to continue?”

“Please.”

A tender kiss--so soft it almost hurts when he pulls away, but Jean keeps herself from falling forward. He’s getting better and it makes her stomach jump at the way Eddie is firm enough to set boundaries, establish consent, but still make her ache for more. It never kills the mood, never feels like it’s something that has to be done. It’s still a part of the game. It’s still the foreplay to the foreplay. 

“Lay on your stomach,” Eddie directs against her ear. 

It’s not an easy instruction to follow and Eddie’s hand keeps her from falling over and helps her move towards the middle of the bed. Satisfied that she’s in a good position, Eddie slides down onto the bed. His fingers trail up her spine. Each place his fingers go, a kiss is sure to follow it. It’s a slow build yet again, as if Eddie wants to awaken every nerve ending. And though it should be more frustrating, Jean reminds herself the reward is going to be so much sweeter. 

Eddie climbs over her, sitting on the backs of her thighs. Jean grunts at the addition of his weight but finds herself enjoying the way she sinks physically to the weight. The sting of the slap lights Jean’s stomach afire. Another swat comes to the opposite cheek and she tries to hold back the laugh. It bubbles just a bit before she can swallow it. 

“What’s funny, love?” Eddie asks, pressing a bit more of his weight down. 

“I liked it. A lot.”

“You’re telling me you laugh at the pain?”

“Maybe I’m delirious,” Jean returns another laugh falling from her. “But I promise I like it.”

Eddie pushes up to his knees grabbing one of her hips to pull her up too. His other hand snakes around her body, teasing at hairs over her mound before delving in. His fingers immediately are met with her own arousal. She’s all but leaking onto his fingers and Eddie finds himself swelling with pride again. 

“Oh,” he coos. “All this for me?”

“Yes, always,” Jean exhales. She pushes up, wanting to meet his hips, but he’s too high up and without the full range of motion of her arms, she slips. Eddie catches her by her hips and helps her back down. 

“Slow down there. What’s wrong?”

“I’m thinking too much,” Jean mutters. “Please, Eddie.”

“I know.” His tone is mocking, like one might give a displeased toddler who’s fussing over nothing really, but they lack the right words. “I’m teasing so much aren’t I? How mean of me. I just--I can’t help it, angel. The way you react. I do find myself loving it more than actually fucking you.” Eddie lowers himself, pissing over her shoulders. “And I do love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me, my dear. Always takes me right now.”

The speech is all going to her core, and she can feel more and more arousal leaking from her. She’s not even really paying attention to the way Eddie gets her hips up. She doesn’t really take in the pillow he gets under her. But the pause of disrobing and sliding on the condom does not go unnoticed. The stretch of Eddie entering her does not go unnoticed. She feels the head of him first, and slowly inch by inch he sinks in. And the stretch though it leads to a small bit of a burn fades quickly into pleasure. 

She can feel him in her stomach, as his hips rock, thighs brushing against her. The edges of her vision haze a little as Eddie quickens his pace. It’s not animalistic, not so fast that Jean can’t savor it. But each thrust is sharp. He makes deep and punctuated thrust and it makes Jean crumble. Every inch and vein makes itself known and though she wonders if a cervix can be bruised, she welcomes the hard thrust. 

Eddie laughs just a little with each of Jean’s pointed cries. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You can feel me everywhere, right baby?”

“Ye-yes, God, I can.” She huffs in return. Jean clenches around him and whimpers. The brush of her clit against the pillow adds to the sensation of Eddie fucking into her. 

“Going to fuck those thoughts right out of you, sweething,” Eddie grunts, arms still holding himself up. He drops his head down to watch the way their bodies meet, the full view obstructed by her ass, but it bounces and jiggles with every slap of his hips. “Never a more beautiful sight,” he whispers, though he can catch just a glimpse of the pink garter still decorating his thigh. 

So we match. It's a simple item--just lace and elastic. But knowing she cared enough to think about him, that she wanted to match, that she wanted to give him something when he was supposed to be giving to her. Only Jean, only she would think of it. 

Jean knows her orgasm is fast approaching, even with the small break, her body hadn’t fully recovered and she can only assume she’s a babbling mess under Eddie, can only assume that the heat of her desire is finally going to consume her. “Fuck, oh fuck,” she chants. “Thank you, thank you.”

Eddie’s not sure what she’s thanking him for exactly--the day, the sex, something else. But the display of gratitude is too much. Jean sounds so out of it, so fucked into oblivion that he’s not sure if she’s aware of it. The babbling, the sounds of her whines and pants, all go straight to his cock and he takes everything in him not to come when she clenches around them. The crash of her orgasm faster than he even anticipated. 

Eddie knows it’s a mess, when he gets Jean to turn over to her back, tossing the ruined pillow to the floor, he’s greeted by the sticky mess of Jean’s orgasm. “Goddamn, sweething. You are like a fountain for me. Just keep making a mess, okay? You’ve got one more in you.” He pushes her legs up, knees to her chest before he slides back in. 

“I-I think so,” Jean returns. 

She doesn’t know anything really anymore. Not with Eddie’s hip snapping into her. All she can do is feel. She is a raw nerve exposed, useless and hopeless to Eddie’s whim. If he wanted nothing but to fuck her the entire night she’d succumb to it. She’d give him everything of her body and probably more. It hurts, if Jean’s going to be honest, her body feels raw, but she adores it. Even as the tears well, she begs for Eddie to come, use her like she’s nothing but a rag doll. 

Eddie pushes in, using his body to pin Jean to the mattress, hips driving into hers. He kisses her shoulder. The bounce of her tits makes every nerve in his body feel like electricity is pulsing through them. The tightness of his gut lets him know he’s not going to last much longer and it’s a shock he lasted this long, but he’s grateful. “So good for me,” Eddie whispers into her skin. “So fucking good for me.” It’s the last bit of praise he manages to get out before his orgasm washes over him. 

Eddie’s own breathing bounces back into his ear, mixed with the sound of Jean’s quiet huffs. He stretches up for a kiss, soft and sweet, but just underneath it he notices something wet along her lips. Eddie’s careful as he pushes up and sees some tears coating her cheek. He’s mindful to pull out slowly, tying off the condom and tossing it into the trash before he grabs tissues from her desk. 

“Jean, baby, are you okay?” he wipes at her cheeks. She nods, but it’s weak. A small spike of panic hits his chest and he works to get the tie loose from around her wrist and pulls her into his chest. “I’m here, I’m here, love.”

“Thank you.” It almost sounds like a sob but no sniffles or other tears follow it. Jean burrows as deep as she can into Eddie’s chest, not trusting her voice anymore. 

“Seriously, are you okay? You’re crying. Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head no. It does hurt, but not bad, not like Jean thinks Eddie went too far. But she can’t quite articulate that. The words are coming to her mouth as if it’s no longer a part of her anymore though she’s got the thoughts. Or maybe she doesn’t really have the thoughts and her mouth is trying to keep her from babbling. All Jean knows is that she can breath Eddie in. He’s there, against her. 

“We’ll stay here for a while, okay? Just follow my breathing, yeah?”

Another nod. Eddie starts off with a deep breath, taking in as much as he can and waiting for Jean to follow. When she does, he exhales deeply. They repeat the pattern for ten breaths until Eddie notices her breathing evening out. He rubs at her arm, pressing kisses occasionally to her temple. Tears were not something he was expecting. But if they weren’t because she’d been hurt, Eddie’s not sure why else she’d be crying. 

He doesn’t try to keep pressing the question, instead he offers to run Jean a bath and when she agrees, a nod against his chest, he walks her to the bathroom, setting her down on the closed toilet seat. “The hot water is finicky,” Jean gets out just as Eddie reaches for the knob. 

Eddie exhales his laughter at the joke about the hot water in the trailer. “Would you like to scold your nipples off or freeze your nipples off then m’lady?”

“I knew it would make you laugh.”

Eddie turns back to her, settling onto the edge of the tub. He takes both of her hands, tracing over her knuckles. “Just glad you’re speaking. Worried me for a second.”

“Sorry, head was, like, fuzzy.”

“You cried, you know?” Eddie reaches for her cheeks on impulse like he’s worried there might be more tears. 

“They weren’t bad tears.”

“What kind of tears are happy?”

“When your boyfriend’s fucked all the thoughts out of your head,” Jean returns, taking her free hand to trace of the pink garter belt. “It’s cute on you.”

“Thank you for thinking of me enough to gift it. And I’m glad to, uh, know that I didn’t hurt you.”

“I’ll be sore come the morning, but no, not like you went too far.”

“Epsom salt will help. If you’ve got any,” Eddie states. It’s a serious quip and Jean can’t help but laugh--it’s brief and comes from her nose mostly. Only Eddie would miss the implication, that he’d fucked her so good, she wouldn’t be able to walk straight. 

“I’ll need it after my shift tomorrow, don’t you think? Better to save it,” Jean brings the hand Eddie’s been tracing over hers to her lips. Her kisses are soft to his knuckles. “Thanks again.”

“I guess I didn’t do too bad?”

“It’s like you said, we’re new and still learning.”

It’s a sentence full of hope, a sentence full of possibility. Eddie clings to it when they’re under a clean blanket for the night. He traces the sentence into Jean’s skin as she rests her head on his sheet. As the night fades deeper into a breaking dawn, Eddie plays the sentence over in his head We’re new and still learning. 

“I’m glad I get to learn with you,” Eddie whispers. He knows Jean won’t hear it--can’t actually as her light snores fill the room. But Eddie likes the promise he’s uttering to the universe. He wants everything with Jean.