#inexperienced!reader

Sirius can hardly believe a pretty thing like you has gone so long without ever having a boyfriend. His brain short-circuited when you told him he’d be your first, and he felt his heart clench with a fierce need to take care of you. To be the best boyfriend you could ask for. The best first everything—and hopefully the last.

He’s been taking things slow with you, as hard as it’s been. He finds himself clenching his fists, fingernails biting his palms, to control the burning desire churning low in his gut. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’d let him, he’d have bent you over every surface in your flat by now. He’d have ruined you, put you back together, and ruined you all over again. And again, and again.

Sometimes, he does let himself get carried away. Kisses you until your lips are swollen. Whispers dirty things in your ear to pull sweet, nervous squeaks from your mouth and make your cheeks heat up a few degrees.

After a night out with you in a short little dress, teasing him without even realizing it, he can’t resist. He has you pressed against the wall in your room right now, hands roaming wherever he pleases, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. He nips at your earlobe.

“Do you ever get needy? Do you ever make yourself feel good when you’re all alone?” he whispers.

He doesn’t expect you to respond, but he gets a little nod from you that has all the blood in his brain rushing to his groin. He lifts his head so he can look in your eyes, his own gray like moonlight, his stare pinning you in place more than his hands ever could.

“Yeah? How?” he rasps.

You whisper the answer so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear it. But he does.

“You use your pillow?” Sirius asks, choking back a groan at the mental image that’s painted in his head. Vivid daydreams of you on your bed, a pillow between your thighs as you rock your hips into it, rutting your desperate cunt into the plush cushion.

He doesn’t have much volition over his knee, which slowly creeps between your legs, spreading your thighs for him. He aches to see you like that in person.

“How do you use your pillow, sweetheart?” His voice is hoarse, and the thought of whatever words could leave your mouth in response has his grip on your waist tightening, probably leaving bruises, your bunched-up dress the only cushion between you and his fingertips.

You stammer, your wide, innocent gaze darting nervously from his face to anywhere but. To have never been touched or spoken to like this before must make it all so overwhelming. He would do anything to ease those nerves.

Sirius pulls you away from the wall, a little closer to him, his head dipping to press sweet kisses to your temple and trailing down until his lips hover over your ear.

“Can you show me?” he asks, his voice a low whisper as he pushes you down on his thigh. Your shaky breaths match up as you come down on him. His heart pounds harder against his ribcage when he feels the heat of your body through the layers of clothes.

Your head tilts back to meet his eyes. Gentle and reassuring, they give you the courage to move.

He groans softly. You slowly rocking your hips against his jeans is a much more heavenly sight than anything his brain was able to concoct.

“You look so pretty like this,” he says, and your grip on his shoulders tightens, the movement of your hips getting a little more desperate.

Sirius moves his leg against you, pressing into you more. The whimper that tumbles from your mouth is the most beautiful noise he’s ever heard, and he wants to hear it again.

He takes control over your movements, guiding your hips with his hands, occasionally bouncing his leg to elicit a delicious gasp from your lips.

“So good,” he coos as your arms snake around the back of his neck, holding on for dear life. “This is what you do to your pillow when you’re alone? Alone and needy for a release?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out, your voice high-pitched with desperation, “But this—it feels better like this.”

The admission pulls a growl from his throat. “Yeah?” Sirius asks, his lips moving against your forehead. It takes all his willpower not to rip your clothes off and take you right then and there.

“It feels better with me helping you?” he asks, pushing you to move faster against him.

“Y-yeah,” your voice shakes, eyes screwing shut from the pleasure the friction brings.

His body aches for more, and with every sweet little sound you make, he loses more and more control. He needs to feel you, to touch you.

Sirius looks into your eyes, wanting to see all of the emotions in them as he asks, “Want me to make you feel even better, sweetheart?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and he gives his words a second to soak in before he continues.

“Will you let me touch you?” His voice is low and raspy with want. His fingertips ghost over your inner thigh. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

“I… okay,” you decide.

“Yeah?”

You nod, taking a deep breath to ease your nerves. “I trust you,” you murmur, and his heart skips a beat at your admission. The words hit somewhere deep because he loves being that for you—someone you can trust. And because no one else ever has you like this. The thought makes his pulse quicken.

Sirius keeps his eyes on your face, checking for any hint of discomfort, as his hand dips beneath the hem of your dress. He touches you softly over your panties. The cotton is damp, and he groans. His head tips forward to rest against yours.

Your breath comes out in quick pants as his hand dips beneath the fabric, his fingers running over your mound reverently. He hisses as your nails dig into the skin of his neck.

You whimper when he dips a finger between your folds, gently rubbing your clit. He doesn’t stay there for long, too eager. He teases your hole for a few seconds, allowing you time to brace yourself before he pushes his digit into you for the first time.

“Oh, Sirius,” you moan.

He slowly increases the pace, curling his finger until the only sound in the room is a symphony of your moans and lewd wet noises from where his finger pumps into you.

He feels you clenching around him, close. But he intends to draw this out, so he slows down. He kisses your cheek.

“That’s it. Let me take care of you.”

“I just want more.”

“Seriously? Can’t a man recover for a minute?”

Bucky’s teasing was making you more frustrated, and you groaned softly. It wasn’t your fault that his old ass was tapping out. You huffed and tried to think of how to solve this issue. That’s when it hit you.

“What if you didn’t have to move? I’ll do all the work.”

“You’ll do the work? It’s a little more difficult than you think, sweetheart. You’ve never even been on top.”

The fact that he was doubting your capabilities only annoyed you further. It was no secret that Bucky had more experience than you did. That didn’t mean that you were naïve, though. You could ride him with no issue. At least, that’s what you thought, and you voiced that.

“I can do it, Bucky. Please let me try. Just teach me how to do it.”

“Alright. Do as I say and you’ll do great.”

“Okay.”

Without another word, he placed his hands on your hips and helped you move so that you were hovering over him. Your knees were placed on either side of Bucky's thighs. He was fairly large, so it took some effort to fully straddle him. You managed, though. Once he had you positioned exactly where he wanted you, he spoke up again.

“Just like that. I’ve got you lined up, so all you have to do is settle down.”

“Okay. You’ll say something if I hurt you or anything?”

“Of course, sweet girl. Go ahead and move.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and did as you were told. You slowly sank down on Bucky’s thick cock and gasped as he stretched you out. Since you’d both gone a few rounds before this, you adjusted quickly. This angle was a bit different from what you were used to, though. You locked eyes with your boyfriend and sought out reassurance.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, baby. Fuck, you’re doing so good.”

“What do I do, now?”

“Keep your knees planted where they are and just move. Do whatever feels best for you. You won’t hurt me.”

Bucky’s words had eased the anxiety you had surrounding performing. If he could sound confident about your abilities, so could you. Following his instructions, you did what felt right and started grinding your hips in long circular motions. He knew that you wanted to be independent, so he fought the urge to rut into you.

Instead of acting on those desires, Bucky laid back and watched the way that your tits bounced while you moved. God, he was never going to get used to seeing you like this. It was even better than he had imagined.

What you hadn't accounted for was that you were still tired and overly sensitive from earlier in the night. It didn't help that Bucky wasn’t a small man, and you had to be somewhat flexible to straddle him properly. You were determined to keep going, but your efforts were steadily becoming sluggish. He couldn't help, but tease you lightly.

“Poor baby. Is it too much for you? Is my girl getting sleepy on me?”

Refusing to stop, you didn’t give Bucky the satisfaction of responding, and you focused your attention on riding him. In a vain effort to anchor yourself, you planted your palms on his broad chest. It didn’t help very much, though. He could tell by the hazy look in your eyes that you were burning out, and he offered to lend a hand.

“You look so tired, pretty girl. Do you need me to take over?”

You nodded in defeat and tucked your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. If you weren’t so exhausted and worked up, you would’ve been embarrassed. He wasted no time in taking over for you, moving your hips up and down. Your boyfriend was going out of his way to keep his motions gentle, but purposeful.

His efforts were relentless, and they were finally rewarded when you cried out. Your walls clamped around him and your vision went white with pleasure. Bucky's euphoria quickly followed, and he spilled inside of you. He held you close and rode out the orgasm with you. He continued praising you afterward.

“You did so good, baby. That was perfect.”

As you came down from your high, Bucky gently traced the curve of your spine and waited for his own breathing to even out. It took him a moment to realize that you had actually dozed off. He'd fucked his girl to sleep. The thought boosted his ego, and he could finally let himself return to resting.

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @sunday-bug (comment to join!!)

Quietly you agree as he turns the keys in the ignition and the old engine splutters weakly to life. The truck quickly backs out of the convenience store parking lot and you watch as Eddie Munson fades from your vision with an unspoken anticipation— his leather and denim clad figure shrinking with each passing second.

The brunette clocks the burgundy rust bucket of a truck reversing away— his curious eyes also settling on the pretty girl sitting meekly in the passenger seat. He recognised her even with her head downturned and a sour expression on her face. A growing and knowing grin tugs on the edges of his red bitten lips and Eddie was certain he just found his newest little interest.

You.

The towns ‘good-est girl’, the girl that mothers compared their own daughters to and the girl soon to be..

“Who is that?” Gareth interjects as he brings a beer up to his lips to take a large swig. His tone read recognition and slight confusion.

“That,” With absolute conviction Eddie extends his arm and points a silver adorned finger at the vehicle that was now barely within the groups view, “Is the future Mrs. Munson, boys. Whether she knows it or not….”

He meant every single word.

You would be his. One way or another.

-

Sunday afternoon is swarmed with brightness and warmth. The church choir met the resonate frequency of your soul, the sound drowning out the fatigue of the previous week. It nearly brought tears to your eyes every time you heard it. Those beautiful voices— singing like angels.

In sunshine or in thundering rain, the church spire reached up into that every stretching blue sky. It was as if it spoke love into your family— it was the only time you could see your father be truly at peace with himself. The rare occasion in which he would smile with sincerity.

Ever since your mother passed away when you were only 6 years old, the church has been your father’s guiding light. A love so solid that it provided him with stability and strength.

So, naturally, he made the church a part of your life too. Hoping that it too would make you strong.

And it did, it did make you strong.

But it also excluded you from many things one should experience in their teenage years.

You hadn’t many friends, party invitations always seemed to skip over you, never have you allowed yourself to drink alcohol or smoke a cigarette and you have never partook in any sort of sexual ‘deviancy’.

Including exploration of self.

It was fair to say that amongst your peers, you were an outcast— but you were an outcast that didn’t fit in with the other outsiders. You were martian.

Which made you all the more provocative and compelling to Eddie. He had to get to know you for his own sanity. Understand you. Pick you apart.

The encounters started in the height of Spring and they continued to relent into Summer where sundresses were all you could afford to wear thanks to the smothering heat and you dearly missed the feeling of your beloved rain pattering down to cover your skin.

It sent Eddie into a feral frenzy to see you in a skirt— especially the frilly pastel pink one that allowed the plush smooth skin of your thighs to peek out just slightly beneath the hem, the skin just merely out of reach from the tips of his longing fingers.

“Where ya off to, Sweet thing?” His van crept beside you as you trodded on the sidewalk at a speed that whispered predatorial, one of his arms propped up to rest on the open window which he spoke to you out of.

“I’m going home, Eddie…” Quiet. Too quiet. You knew it would rile him. You knew that walking home today was a mistake:

You never did quite learn to listen to your intuition.

“Can’t hear ya, Sweetheart. Speak up.” A snap of his jaw, his voice is honey laced with poison.

“I’m going home.” Abruptly your feet come to a staggering stop and Eddie’s brakes scream as they slow the vans momentum.

“Jesus H. Christ—“ His head jolts with the force of the vehicle  stalling and his once soft eyes now glare at you, realisation promptly igniting them with amusement, “Ohhh wait— what is it you folks say? Never speak the Lords name in vain?”

Your stomach plummets. Anxiety is a finger pressed to your lips as you prepare yourself for whatever he may say next.

Part of you foolishly thought that you were used to this by now. The teasing, the torment— the disrespect.

How naive and stupid you were.

“Do you pray on your knees?” The engine is killed and the silence only thickens. Eddie is like a gazelle on his feet as he swiftly bounds out of the van to approach you, “I bet you do— I bet…” He taps his fingertip on his lips in thought, “That you do more than just pray when you’re down there. Don’t cha’?” Fast fingers pinch at a strand of your hair, yanking it softly and despite the gentle nature of the assault the action still causes you to yelp in surprise.

“No, stop it!” Unsteady feet stumble backwards away from him and Eddie applauds your attempt at deflection and chuckles wholeheartedly in response.

“Oh— come on! Stop bein’ such a bore.” He beams, all teeth. Wolfish. Ravenous.

An unpredicted switch flips at the sight and your face begins to warm until your cheeks scorch to a newfound shade of pink flesh.

Something foreign within you stirs— awakens.

Serene at first, its grotesque arms and legs gently sprawl out wide as it searches for comfort during its rapid occupancy of your sternum cavity. Its dark eyes shoot open with a deeply rooted and demanding hunger and it begins to shriek— that shriek lengthening into a roar until…

“Where’d ya go, sugar? Gone all loopy on me.” Sharp features appear heightened with his gaze set upon you and still he is adorned by that animalistic mask.

“I just wanna go home, please.” A pathetic beg.

A plea, not only toward Eddie, but toward the growing darkness forming within you. You begged your mind to stop, to leave the lewd thoughts buried. Let them die where they stood. However, the more you begged the more they intensified.

Doubled. Quadrupled.

Because when you ask your brain to not think about something, guess what happens?

You do.

It’s inescapable. The sin. The shame.

It’s the dull knife that twists and rips at your chest.

“I have to go, Eddie—“ Then it’s the raging voice of the one person you had hoped to avoid until dinner time.

Your father.

“Hey, you!!” His distain is directly fired at Eddie, “Get away from my daughter now!” Your father may have played football in high school but his physical fitness was now somewhere between couch potato and pensioner as he jogged his way toward the pair of you.

Instead of shrinking in fear at the sight of your father Eddie simply grins, entertained at the sight. Fierce eyes meet yours briefly before he retreats to the safety of his van and screeches off, barrelling down the street at a speed that was definitely illegal.

By the time your father reaches you he is slightly panting, out of breath, “You alright?” He keels over, his hands resting on top of his jean covered knees as he fights to catch his staggering breath, “Told you to stay away from him, didn’t I?”

“I’m fine, Dad…”

As fine as you were, something didn’t make sense…

“Why are you here? Where were you going?” You should’ve know better than to question your own father but it was suspicious— he was in the right place at the right time?

Unlikely.

“You’re usually home by now so I went out lookin’ — Do I have to worry about this Munson fella? Because I will go speak to his Uncle if need be.” A nuclear threat.

“No! No— it’s alright. He just needed directions s’all.” You were getting good at this whole lying ordeal. Becoming a real pro.

“Well, alright then,” He straightens his posture, rebuilding his spine vertebrae by vertebrae, “You hungry?” His meaty hands land on his hips and you smile softly at the action, forgetting for a moment why you would ever have to hide anything from him.

“Yeah,” Fingers curl tensely around the worn leather strap of your book bag and you shrug one shoulder nervously, “I could eat.”

-

Church bells sing, lulling the crowding sheep into a joyful trance, enticing all to enter the blessed space of mass one after the other in a respectfully calm manner.

No rush. No pushing. No fear.

Just hope.

Hope for brighter days, hope for a laughter filled future, hope for a restful nights sleep—

Something collectively shared as tired bums settled comfortably onto polished, but openly loved, wooden benches.

As the clock hands settled on 8:00am and the chiming bells softly began to fade the sound took your fatigue with it. A newfound energy warming you for the inside out.

“Let us commence,” your lowered eyes find the old maroon carpet that had been badly trodden over the last few years, evident that no amount of carpet shampoo nor conditioner could save the artefact

Today’s service marked the annual bake sale. Something widely enjoyed by the community and issued by the church to try and help raise funds for the restoration and preservation of the deteriorating church building foundations. There was gentle music and song played by generous volunteers, books and pastries all on display up for grabs and of course you would be donating— anything to secure yourself a tasty delight and the comfort of a new book.

“I’ll have the one with the strawberry on top, please!” You beam at the elderly lady, Gladice, behind the stall and she gleams back at you, pushing her rectangular purple glasses up the bridge of her nose before packaging your small order, “How much do I owe?”

“80¢ please, dear—“

“I got it,” An outstretched leather arm engulfs your vision as it hands a 5$ bill to Gladice who seems to take it with no suspicion or second thought whatsoever, “Throw in a coupla’ brownies as well, please. Keep the change.”

The ears attached to your head hear the grin on his face before you see it.

Time seems to slow as you pivot your face toward him, eyes in disbelief as his face comes into view— mere inches away from your own.

“Hi,” Chirpy, as always, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

And it was. Until now.

“Why are you here—“

“Here you go, Petal. Enjoy. I baked them all myself!” Gladice holds out a floral patterned paper bag which secured all of your goods inside. You smile at her politely but absentmindedly and take them from her grasp whilst also trying your best to scoot away from Eddie who seemed to be looming over you like something from a Nightmare on Elm Street.

“To answer your question, which is pretty fucking rude by the way, I’m here to show my support— obviously!” Long fingers find comfort around Eddie’s bicep as he drapes his arms across his body, “You’ve clearly forgotten that I, too, am a resident of this community. Freak or not.”

Widened eyes stare at him. Half horror and half disassociation.

“You never come to church. Never—“

“First time for everything.” A casual shrug that enrages you.

“My dad could’ve been here…” Quiet and clipped.

“But he isn’t,” Devilish eyes shimmer, “Not here to save his precious little girl this time”

His shifting personality made your head spin. It was almost intoxicating.

In your mind, people were staring from every corner of the room with darting eyes and snarled whispers. FBI agents who will undoubtedly be reporting every word and movement back to your dad who happened to be laid up at home with some sort of sickness.

“I don’t need him to ‘save’ me. I just want you to leave me alone.”

Oh, if only it were that simple.

Eddie could never just leave you alone— how could he? Someone else might come along and snatch you up. He had to ensure that his spot was secure in your life. As unpleasant as it was in the present moment he knew that you would grow to love it.

Build a tolerance.

Consume him until he is palatable.

Let him in…

He just had to break you in first—

“Sorry, Bun. Not gonna happen. I kinda like it here.” He wasn’t necessarily lying, but total truth be told, Eddie found churches the pinnacle of creepy! Everything about it weirded him out. The smell of damp festering deep within the walls, like the church was a decaying corpse, the drinking of watered down and nasty wine, the way each person seemed totally zombified whenever the priest started preaching— and don’t get him started on the vampiric cult vibes radiating from each press of the organ keys.

It was funny because despite all of this irrational fear, Eddie was still the one accused of Satanism and Devil worship.

“Well…” Shoulders heave with a sigh, “Can I at least eat my pastry in peace?” You look at him sweetly with blown and bright eyes.

Acceptance. Just what he wanted.

“Sure, Sweetheart— but only if I get to watch you lick the cream off.” Total fucking filth heats your face and your scoff in response is complete disgust, rolling your eyes in a quaking attempt to ignore the gnaw in your lower abdomen.

“You are revolting!” Shaking hands pumped full of adrenaline discard of the sweet goods on a nearby table, “Now I don’t even want it.” Truly, you were utterly devastated.

In challenge, Eddie picks up the paper bag, pinching it with his fingers and examining it before his abysmal eyes flicker to you, “Ya sure?” A growing grin stretches his face almost unnaturally, a knowing smile that read, ‘big fucking mistake’.

You huff and nod, refusing to feed his wicked thoughts any longer.

“Suit yourself, Princess.” Steady fingers plunge into the paper bag, taking out the one thing you had been looking forward to all damn day. A cream and strawberry tart with the freshest berry you’ve ever seen adorning the top- crystallised in a sugar glaze just ever so slightly.

“Last chance…” His tone goes from playful and flamboyant to serious within a blink of an eye.

“Yes. Just have it, you paid for it.” Your crossed arms tighten around your frame.

All Eddie could think about was how much of a little brat you were being. Rude to him from the moment he arrives, turning your nose up at the kindness he showed you when he bought you a pastry and now here you are refusing it all because of a lil’ bit of banter.

He ought to teach you a lesson or two.

One of them being how to sit on your ass properly when it’s stinging and red fucking raw from a spanking.

His teeth grit as he bites back the cruel words that he wants to say and opts for something a lot more amusing instead— something sure to leave you and the rest of the church attendees mortified.

The delicate pads of Eddie’s fingers stroke along the skin of the decorative strawberry, enticing it to speak, but it never will. Fleshy tips skim across the surface of the whipped cream before submerging themselves fully into the dessert and bringing the sugary goodness to his lips.

“Oh baby—“ An exaggerated moan.

Everything about the way he was devouring the pastry should’ve felt wrong. But it didn’t.

Your heart beat out of your ears, thundering anxiously within your chest and you found yourself frozen like a fawn in headlights. His half lidded eyes had you so easily pinned to the spot and where it should have vexed you it only excited you further— especially when Eddie’s tongue decided to join the party.

It was barbaric.

The thirst you felt was instinctive. Primal. A need that only Eddie could satiate. You could lap him up, drink gallons of him, consume him until you were bursting at the seams and yet—

You would still crave more. The hunger would remain.

The greed sickened you, but you couldn’t look away. Vision tunnelled to only focus on Eddie and the way his pointed tongue was pressed hot and flush against the beloved tart…

And it wasn’t just your attention that was dominated by him— other members were bewitched by his actions from near and from afar.

Just as intended.

Horror, disgust, curiosity, morbidity, arousal.

These emotions were evident on the varying faces around the room— they also just happened to be a slim pick of the many, many things you were presently experiencing.

A tightness wound like a spring at the pit of your stomach. A despicable and sloppy sultry need— one that should be shunned and banished to the darkest depths of your being. It’s strength was monstrous and extreme and the way your breathing staggered and laboured had you rocked to your core.

A newfound dampness grew along the clinging panel of your panties and you could feel the curvature of your growing plumpness. Your heat swelling and utterly confused.

It was urgent— the vicious hankering that plucked at your nerves. The images your mind began to conjure up from an otherwise normal activity left you breathless and stunned.

You wanted— you needed Eddie’s thick and sopping tongue against you. Every ounce of you craved to have the strong muscle flexed inside your already dripping hole.

He was the one to ruin you.

And you would let him.

“Never tasted something so sweet…” Blackened eyes settle on your flushed face, flickering to your reddening neck which sets a smile on Eddie’s face, “Well, there may be something sweeter than this. Just not had the chance to taste her yet.”

A quick wink is all it took for you to early crumble at the knees.

You have never despised something more.

It hits you all too quickly, the realisation of where you are and who you are with. The head upon your shoulders tosses from left to right and your worried eyes briefly skim over the faces of your surroundings.

Deep down you knew that they weren’t any better than you. That their expressions, too, shared layers of lustful desire and sin.

And yet, you were chewed up on the inside. Your shame festering into something wicked and unholy.

It proved to be all too much, and in a feeble attempt to save yourself from the inevitable fall from grace, you take off to the bathroom like a fearful animal. As fast as your wobbly legs could carry you.

Hoping for sanctuary.

Praying for forgiveness.

-

The dinner table was oddly silent the following night. Like usual.

However, within the quiet, there was a undoubted shift. Something had tilted your perfect stage but you were the only one who knew about it— your performance never ending.

Mouth full after relentless mouth full.

Meat. Peas. Carrots. Peas. Carrots. Meat.

It exhausted you to chew.

“You look tired,” Your father’s heavy eyes don’t leave his plate, in fact, they are almost shielded by his thick and untamed eyebrows, “How is school?”

His attempt at unwanted small talk.

“School is good,” you lay down your fork, signalling you are now officially finished with your meal, “How.. uh.. how was work today?”

Evidently, you weren’t very good at this. Talking to him.

He never truly knew how to raise a daughter on his own. When you were born your mom and dad moved away from your grandparents and the only family you had, something about them not approving of your parents’ shotgun wedding arrangements, so your father never had much help from anyone. And you didn’t really have a female figure to look up to that wasn’t someone on the television or printed in magazines.

Thankfully, despite this, you managed to keep control of your personal style. You loved girly frills and lace, dresses and skirts. Even in the Winter, you loved it.

Pop music and jewellery, makeup and hairspray. None of it had to be sacrificed.

Your father never batted an eyelid, always assumed that girls will be girls, especially if they are becoming young adults.

So, he left you to it.

He trusted you.

“That’s what I wanna talk to you about,” Finally, fatigued and sunken eyes meet your face as he takes a sip from his glass, “I have to leave town for a bit. Maybe a few days, maybe a week. Think you’ll be okay here on your own? I can ask the Wheelers down the street to check in on ya every so—”

“No, Dad, I’ll be okay.” Reassurance with a smile.

He ponders for a moment before his stiff muscles relax back into the dining chair, “Alright then. I’ll leave you plenty of pizza money—” He chuckles lightly before he adds suddenly rigid, “—Remember to be at Church on Sunday, bright as a bird in May. I need you to hand in some donations for The Salvation Army. Let them know it’s from me.”

He always seemed to tense up at the thought of missing Church or leaving the community. If it were up to him, his job would be at the Church. He would sleep on the grim Church floor if it meant he never had to leave.

You hum a soft ‘mhmm’ and nod.

“Oh—“ He stands up, his callused hands slowly beginning to clear the small dinner table, “And mind that Munson boy,” He says his name with such bitterness, “Stay away from him, I mean it. He ain’t nothing but curly hair and trouble. Someone ought to speak to his Uncle about all the meddling he’s been doing on holy grounds.”

Your breath catches in the base of your throat and you swear that your heart momentarily stops beating.

Someone had spoke to him about the events of yesterday. Someone had snitched.

Though, luckily for you, none of his displeasure was directed at you. And as your bulging eyes settle on the back of your father head it seems that you may have just gotten off the hook. Although you hadn’t done anything wrong, a huge part of you still felt otherwise guilty for Eddie’s behaviour. He was trying to rattle you and in the process he managed to… upset… others.

You, too, leave the table. Saying goodnight with another smile and retreating to your darling bedroom.

Light fell at the end of the day, washing vibrant green to their softest of hues and uplifting purples to their most vivid. Even the clouds that had been a creamy white only an hour before were now an enchanting shade of deep rose. With the gold of dawn and midday banished to tomorrow, all that was left was for the sky to be painted a thick layer of tar black and whisper the return of the moon.

The darkness is welcomed as your mechanical fingers switch on one of your two bedside table lamps. The warm bulb is quick to warm your room and you smile at the beaded and pale pink inanimate object. Rejoicing in the memories of all the years you have owned it. That lamp has seen you weep, snore, laugh and long. Other people had teddy bears from childhood but you?

You had your lamps.

Slipping into the waiting coolness of your bedsheets you are overcome with bliss. For no particular reason, today had been gruelling. It felt busier than it usually was and at times you were left with whiplash, trying to keep up with your own mind which seemed to be close to combustion.

You roll from left to right, the bodily movement punctuated with a airy sigh as you reach for a sip of water. Propped up on one elbow whilst the other arm was occupied with the simple task of gulping down some fluids. Even in that moment it still seemed like too much effort— more than what it was worth.

Remaining upright your eyes creep to the window, surveying the small crack which parted the curtains just ever so slightly. Childishly, your mind wanders to a place filled with monsters and ghouls— horrifying beings that waited for you and lurked in the dark.

Your rational mind knew that there was nothing there, but you still swiftly switched off the lamp and scampered beneath the duvet cover with a quiet girlish giggle. Pulling the thick blanket up to your chin where it would remain for the foreseeable future.

Fists knock and misshape the pillows beneath your head harshly until out of frustration you decide to discard of one entirely and instead clutch it to your chest in a tight hug.

“Ahh— better.”

The slow swirl of the shadowed ceiling and the plush embrace of the mattress beneath your weary bones is happily familiar. The scent of recently washed sheets and the buzzing silence elicits a comforting sigh from your throat.

Eyelashes drift down, then reopen, then back down again. A state of perfect half-sleep.

The weight of the pillow pressed so close to you feels nice— like a person held to your breast.

Your grip on the pillow tightens, the soft insides conforming to every curve of your silhouette in the best way.

You shift to lay on your stomach, the pillow separating you from the mattress below. And in an unexpected, but welcomed surprise, you feel the firm corner of the pillow pressed perfectly between your thighs.

A faint tingle finds your lower abdomen and a slight tremor sneaks up on your thighs. It’s strangely comforting. Familiar, even though you haven’t fully felt this sensation before. You allow it to linger there, undisturbed for a while as your mind and body agreeably adapt to it.

Trying to doze off with your hands wedged beneath your pillow proves difficult when the stubborn heat between your legs refuses to disperse. Five minutes turns to ten and with each passing second your thighs grip and squeeze the pillow tighter, greedier.

A small gasp and a throb from within when your clit is rocked just right against the hardened edge.

“I shouldn’t…” You knew that much, but sometimes the heart— or the body— wants what it wants.

Without a wasted second you begin to push your cunt down into the pillow, swirling your hips and biting your lip. Drool dampens your bedsheets and you chew on them as you writhe around beneath the warm duvet. A steady rhythm builds, your lower back arching and compressing with each greedy curl of your hips. Messily your knees knock and knead at the mattress springs below and without warning your foggy brain recalls Eddie’s tongue.

Usually you would fight away the thoughts, but it wasn’t your brain doing the thinking anymore.

With each aggressive hump of your pussy you picture yourself grinding down on Eddie’s mouth. His plump lips ravishing you from below.

You swallow back a whimper, your eyes screwing shut and your eyebrows narrowing as the sound of erotic slick fills your empty bedroom. The noise is intoxicating and you allow yourself a soft and muffled moan into your pillow, “Agh…”

Soaking wet panties drag sloppily against the now ruined pillowcase, your muscles lock into place with the pleasure and your cunt has a mind of its own. Forcefully fucking itself against the bed, your slit over flowing through the cotton of your panties and saturating the fabric below.

The tip of Eddie’s nose prodding at your clit just enough to tease you as his tongue lapped at your dripping folds. His gorgeous brown eyes blown with lust looking up at you hungrily as he devours your aching pussy.

“Oh, Eddie…” A hot breath and a shaky mewl against the bed, desperate not to be heard.

A sudden rush of warmth grows between your quivering thighs and you push harder, groaning as hot rivulets of lust course through you. Butterflies tickle your lower stomach and a pressure dominates your senses. A hand clamps over your mouth to hush your scream and differing series’s of jolts electrocute your abdomen, your pulsing pussy staggering against the mess of your panties.

All in a swift second you feel the stress of the day wash from your chest, down to your legs and leave out of the covers. Vanishing.

There comes a steady hum of silence, punctuated by your own ragged breath as you collapse into the mattress. Tiredness claiming your mind, not allowing you to dwell too much on the name you just whimpered aloud.

-

Summer shivered beneath a storm. Rain blossomed from the ether, kissing the lips of the dusty and drought ridden concrete. The streets were no longer bathed with sunlight and now had to content itself with mean and howling winds. With a positive outlook you could’ve smiled at the heavenly split in the sky, welcoming home the pounding rain— but goosebumps don’t lie and you didn’t even armour yourself with a coat. Bare arms and bare legs.

Thunder clapped the clouds and deafened flocking birds. Every bright colour was washed dim and you caught sight of your own reflection in the grocery store glass. Every customers smile fell flat whilst you gaped at the weather thrashing outside. It was beautiful, but in a deathly way— as nature always is.

It wasn’t supposed to have arrived yet, the storm, but it was here. That’s all it took for shutters to close. Doors met their catch with bolt and chain, too and people retreated to the comforts of their homes. One cannot simply ask the sky to recheck the calendar because one wants to barbecue. It doesn’t care. It doesn’t know.

So, after grabbing everything you need, you take cover beneath a nearby hanging tree.

What else was there for you to do?

Your dad was long gone and you had no one else to rely on for a car ride home.

You had to brave the torrential rain.

Shivering.

“It’ll pass…” You tell yourself in half hope and half surrender.

It would pass— the problem you faced was: when?

How long could you endure the wind cutting at your glacial and rain soaked skin before you catch a summer fever?

Probably not very long.

Your flesh had been whipped raw and you feared the consequences of ammonia. Flat hair sticks heavily to your forehead as your soggy sneakers charge into the brunt of the storm. Skin is streaked with bruising droplets and you laugh as you bring your forearm up to try and shield your face.

It was a pointless manoeuvre but with rain so thick you could hardly see through your fallen eyelashes.

There is something about a rain covered path that is so inviting to playful feet. Each new step is rewarded with a tiny splash and puddles yearn for you to jump in them— you don’t, but you wish you could’ve.

You trudge along, determined to make it home without your clothes being blown off of you. The closest supermarket to your house was 15 minutes on foot so you knew you still had quite the challenge ahead of you.

The thin and lightweight material of your dress had been soaked all the way through and now clung to every inch of your skin underneath, accentuating the soft curve of your hips and stomach and the fullness of your chest.

This outfit seemed like a perfect idea this morning and now? Not so much…

The once grey road was now a fine black line of ink against natures greenery. Jagged brush spilled out from across the tarmac road and it was only now you realised how empty the streets had became. Not a person in sight. Not an engine to be heard.

What was recently a joyous walk had now transpired into something sinister as the thickened and plagued clouds tormented the sky above in huge twists and swirls. You were alone on this path and were suddenly struck with a low level of panic.

You had to get home.

Out of the gloom up ahead, like a beacon of hope, was two headlights that shone blindingly bright. However, upon closer inspection you realised they belonged to a vehicle whose owner was the last person you wanted to see at present.

So much so that you deeply considered nose diving into a nearby thorn bush just to avoid confrontation.

Out of mere habit your legs eventually still and Eddie’s van rolls to a gentle stop. He nearly didn’t recognise you with how drenched you are.

“What are you doing?” He could laugh at the sight of you, but watching you tremble and brace yourself on unsteady legs alerted him that this wasn’t the right time, “Need a ride home?” He had to strain his voice to be heard over the rain.

Dumbfounded you gawk at him, his blurred appearance felt dreamlike and angelic. Looking at him now gave you bags upon bags of mixed feelings.

Yes, you needed a ride home, but after what you did the other night it felt totally perverted and wrong to climb into a van with him. Here he was, in the flesh, how would you cope in such a confined space?

What would you even talk about? What would you say?

Too much to weigh and comprehend in such a little amount of time.

“Helloooo? Have you turned into a popsicle?” His eyebrows furrow with both confusion and mild concern at your lack of verbal and bodily response. You were as stiff as a board, “You’re gonna get sick.”

If you weren’t so caught up in your emotional turmoil you may have actually chuckled at his fatherly scolding tone.

He makes a sound that mimics the frequency of a walkie talkie and he speaks into a closed fist, “Don’t make me escort you into the vehicle.”

“I’m not too far now, I can just walk it—“

Eddie throws his head back at your stubbornness and let’s out a bellowing groan, one that makes your nervous stomach do a somersault.

In one swift motion and without a second thought Eddie unclips his seatbelt and prances over toward you. Promptly, he shrugs his heavyweight battle jacket from his shoulders and arms and hooks it over you. The warmth of his body heat feels like gentle kisses ghosted along your goosebump covered skin.

You remain there for a long moment, second guessing reality as your eyes take in the bare skin of Eddie’s now exposed arms. Thoughtfully placed charcoal ink blinks back at you. Engulfing you as your vision flickers from one tattoo to the next. You couldn’t help but wonder the story behind each one— Did he choose them himself? When did he first get one? How badly did it hurt?

Questions that had to remain unanswered for now. Growing more and more thunderous by the second you couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Eddie’s hair now drizzled with cobwebs of water droplets.

It was Eddie’s turn to get near drowned by the rain.

“Jesus H. Christ, just get in the van.” You pause for a moment, your eyes scanning the road for oncoming cars from left to right before you eventually decide to cross over with him, circling around the bonnet of the van and finally deciding to clamber inside— your legs were chilled to the bone and numb to the touch.

Slippery hands quickly palm at the excess water on your face, pawing as much of it away as you possibly could. Your arrival into the passenger seat is welcomed with warm condensation steaming up on the front windscreen, the fog slowly fading as the minutes passed.

“You okay?” His tone is prying but soft. Eddie is speedy to take to the road, swerving the van in a violent U-turn, but not before checking to see if you are buckled in first, “Warm enough in here?”

It’s dizzying to watch his silver adorned fingers toy and twist frantically at the ventilation dials. He always seemed to be bouncing off of the walls with energy.

“M’ okay, Eddie. Thank you.”

You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bare the thought of him seeing through you— of him seeing into who you are and what you’ve done. Even now, with guilt caving in your chest, your mind was still fizzing away with erotic scenarios.

His swole biceps and the dark grey band t-shirt cuff clinging around the plump skin. The same t-shirt ever so slightly cropped, just enough for you to have caught glance of his happy trail of hair skipping down toward his—

Rue. Wretched rue.

In your peripheral you could see his fluffy bangs bouncing with every glance at you he decided to steal. He was trying to work you out, but he couldn’t. Not really.

Not yet.

“Hey, so uh, where am I going, exactly?” You knew he was beaming, you could hear it in the small laugh he offered you. He partly laughed to ease the growing tension but also because he was driving off without a destination. He didn’t want you to freak out and think he was trying to kidnap you.

The way your face warmed was nothing but dishonourable. How could you be so easily flustered?

And were you really about to give this man your home address?

“It’s uhm… it’s just a couple minutes up this road and then to the right.” Eyes are trained on the barely visible road ahead, struggling to see through the moggy and dirty window. Nonetheless, you stayed poised with precision.

“M’ kay, well uh, you just direct me.” Wary of your current state, Eddie took recognition at your avoidance of him. Allowing his normally teasing exterior to soften just so, “How long had you been out there?” He longed for you to look at him, even just for a second, only so he knew that you were okay.

Dampness invades your nostrils and you grimace slightly at the faint stench of marijuana that hits your senses.

“Only like, 20 minutes. I think.”

“20 minut—“ He clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Oh you are definitely gonna catch something. Is it straight ahead orrrr?” Distracted by you he must’ve missed the right hand turn toward your house.

“Oh, shoot! Sorry, it was back there,” You glance in the wing mirror and look back over your shoulder, “Take the next right up here, that should help us out.”

God, could you get any more precious?

“Shoot? Really?” He physically couldn’t help himself, “What’re you, five? Just say the word shit.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Amuse me,” He grins widely and his attempts at riling you earned him a prolonged look of defiance, “I’m not gonna tell anyone, promise.” He takes a hand from the wheel and crosses his heart with his pointer finger.

“Profanity is unkind and makes you appear brutish.”

The words of your father cartwheel through your mind and spill out into reality.

“Swearing is fun and harmless! Especially when it isn’t directed at someone in particular. Try it.“

Another push.

“Hey, isn’t this Nancy Wheelers street—”

“I’ve cursed before, Eddie, I’m not some otherworldly being. You obviously just don’t know me. Take the next left.” Your words began to sour your mouth and your thoughts weren’t much help.

Did he see you like that? Like all of the rest?

Were you alien, even to him?

It was strange because out of everyone in Hawkins, you had foolishly thought that if anyone could even remotely come close to how you felt amongst your peers, it would’ve been him.

Eddie.

That Munson Boy.

“Woooah, I didn’t mean to upset you or tick you off, Angel, I was just jokin—“ Each word was a punch to the gut.

“Stop here.” You demand, your house now in eye shot at the end of the sleepy terrace. Eager to please, Eddie stalls the van gently and begins to search your body language for a sign of a lasting temper.

A small awkward cough fills the space as Eddie clears his throat in a discreet but non-discreet manner, “Well… you can keep the jacket until I see you next—“

Water burnt cheeks and deadpan eyes meet his doe like expression, “You didn’t tick me off, Eddie, don’t be ridiculous,” The ball was now in your court to give him a taste of his own vile medicine, “You pissed me off. Now, thank you for the ride but stay the Hell away from me.”

You barrel from the van in a hurry, fleeing as fast as your legs could manage: like a criminal from a crime scene. Too hastily to the point that your panicked brain didn’t clock that you were still draped in Eddie’s clothes until you slammed the patio door behind you and were met with a scent that didn’t quite belong in your home.

Which then lead to the realisation that you also left your small bag of groceries in his front seat.

“Shit.” A palm drags down your face and your voice is broken and small as you lean back against the door, closing your eyes as you welcome the dry caress of the vacant house.

Muscles still for a moment, tensing as you contemplate bringing the thick material of the jacket up to your nose for a sniff. Without seeing the harm in it you decide to follow through on the thought. Inhaling the scent of the brunette deeply and moaning gently on the exhale.

The idea that followed was lightening sharp and just as quick.

“No.”

You hush yourself, not allowing your brain to wander and get lost in that part of you. The throbbing and aching part of you that willed your fingers between you thighs whilst your nose nuzzled worn fabric and your teeth gnawed on the denim collar of Eddie’s jacket.

You couldn’t allow it.

Not tonight.

-

That rug, that stupid old filthy rug had seen more dancing shoes than a ballroom tonight. It was where they all squealed and grooved, everyone with everyone, the music escaping from every open window and door.

Once the colour of cherries, now it told a trodden tale of love and laughter, of more good times than anyone is ever promised in life. Your father could have replaced it years ago, brought in another just like it, but instead you hauled it over to the river in good weather at least once a year and washed it as best you could. Sometimes the earthy red tones would return, other times not so much.

Wooden flooring vibrates underfoot with each sound wave that pulses from your borrowed speakers. It causes a known feeling to erupt inside of your chest— only this time you weren’t sure if it were the familiar hug of anxiety or the red hot spike of adrenaline.

“Please mind the—” Neon and artificially coloured fruit punch, which had been indefinitely spiked with booze, is comically spilled onto the sofa in that moment, “Furniture.” Only now do you wonder whether you’re playing a losing game. Everyone was beyond wasted and your voice couldn’t rise loud above the thumping base to be heard. Tonight’s occasion only expected to entice a few attendees, maybe enough for a book club, but not enough to fill a barn house rodeo.

Safe to say, things had spiralled far out of your control and you weren’t sure you could rein it in.

Bottles clanked in the kitchen and the penetrable sound of porcelain breaking hits your ears and makes you jump in your skin. Regret sinks deeper and deeper into your weary bones and your head spins with the laughter surrounding you.

You recognise the remnants on the floor to be the mug you painted in pre-school. Bright with pastel pinks and fluorescent greens. It was your father’s favourite. You never knew why but it was the one he always reached for. The one he smiled into each morning.

A frog like lump forms in the base of your throat, luring tears to your eyes as you think of the devastation that’ll be brought to your father when he realises it’s gone. One of his prized possessions. A childhood relic which he loved.

Which you loved.

“Oh my god, Ronnie!! You’re soooooo funny!” Jessica Rogers squeaks, the red head who you knew as the new face of the cheerleading squad, as she fawns over Ronnie Mitchell. Hawkins’s very own Johnny Depp.

Ronnie, very evidently being the culprit of the smashed glass, grins like a hyhena about to snatch its prey and within moments his thin lips are trying to eat up Jessica’s entire face.

Bravely but teary eyed you decide to enter the crowded designated lions den which was the kitchen. Swallowing harshly to allow yourself to speak.

“Hi, sorry, can we please be a bit more careful—“

“Heyyy, Harrington!! Where’s Nancy at?” A huge body breeded for American football shoulder barges by you, whacking you into the nearest wall with such force you’re sure the plaster board had splintered. The saddest thing about it was that the event went totally unnoticed by the surrounding part goers and your body smacking against the wall sounded so faint against the drums blaring in your ears.

Composing yourself proved difficult with the group of four other bodies trying to enter and exit through the small entry way to the kitchen. They pushed you flush against the rustic orange wall and only in a great deal of struggle and panic are you able to get away, struggling to regain your balance and breathe clearly. Human functions that should come easily.

Each breath stuttered in through your nose and staggered back out through your mouth, drying your throat until it felt raw and sore. In your mind you were still there, suffocating beneath the stampede of bodies.

They didn’t see you. They didn’t care.

You were nobody to them. They didn’t even know this was your house. Your family home.

And they were disrespecting it. Ruining what you, your father and your gorgeous mother had worked so hard to build.

They didn’t care. They couldn’t see you.

They refused to.

Your heart thundered at an alarming pace, like the hooves of racing horses pounding into the ground. Shaking nimble fingers clutch at your tightening chest, a last resort to soothe yourself. You had to calm down or you were sure to fall apart.

In front of all these people.

You couldn’t.

With agility you take the stairs two at a time, the soles of your shoes snagging against the trampled carpet and causing you to near collapse as you reach the top. Your breathing heaves your chest up and down harshly as you fall into your bedroom like a bat out of Hell searching for silence. You didn’t find it.

Cold wood meets your sweat sheened forehead as you press yourself to your bedroom door. Both of your hands lay splayed against the doorframe, supporting your trembling body as you fight to stay upright.

“What’s the point…” A blabbered and wet whisper slips, begging a flood of tears to your reddened eyes. Beneath you your knees weaken and in a painless motion you crumple to the floor like a piece of paper.

The thing about crumpled paper is that you can try and fix it all you want. Iron it, smooth it out, speak nice to it— in the end there’ll still be creases. The pain will remain.

Your shoulders shake as you swallow a despaired whimper, your knuckles wiping furiously at your runny nose.

You adjust yourself slowly to position your back against the door, and instead of solitude you found something unexpected lurking around in your sacred space as your eyes find the back of a familiar brunettes head. His hair is different tonight, it’s pulled back into a low ponytail. Neater.

“Eddie?!” Your voice betrays you and cracks on the verge of tears but also sings with alarm at the sight of him.

“Hey, are you okay?” He is slow to move toward you.

“What are you doing in here? This is my room—”

“Uhh looking for my jacket which you seem to be holding hostage? Where is it by the way—”

“No.” Your tone was totally saturated with disbelief.

“Yes?” Above all else, Eddie was confused at your anger but deeply wounded at the tear streaks on you face.

“I don’t believe you. Get out.”

“Okay, fine. Don’t believe me, hot mouth. Just hand me my jacket and I’ll be on my merry little way. Took hours to make it, y’know.” He beams at you, hoping to see a smile return to your face. His hands find the front pockets of his dark indigo jeans and his shoulders rise boyishly toward his ears, “Unless… you have something else to confess before I leave?” Tamed eyebrows wiggle at you and your first guttural reaction is to scream at him.

“I don’t. I don’t have anything to say to you right now. Just leave me alone, please.”

Bloated silence.

“I’m not upset,” Your softened exterior beseeched him to remain where he stood, “I’m just— They’re just breaking so much stuff down there. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“S’alright…” He sincerely meant it, “I have to say, I was surprised to hear that you were the one throwing the rager. Not like ya.”

You shake your head in distaste, “You don’t know me. Not really.”

“I want to…” A shrill inhale of breath. A pause so feverish it left your skin itching, “So uh, what’s going on down there?”

In defeat you perch on the edge of your beautifully made bed. Sacrificing the taunt sheets and crinkling it with your body weight

“Well, after the fourth broken glass I sort of lost count of everything else they’ve ruined. My dad’s favourite coffee mug, too…” An agonised and breathy laugh leaves your lips, “I sort of feel like that mug right now.”

“What? Broken?” Eddie’s legs twitch toward the bed, his heart wanting to sit next to you but his brain fighting against the urge.

“No. Not broken,” Your lips quirk up at the corners and your hands toy with one another in your skirt scrunched lap, “Just… changed.”

“Change is good. Change is better than broken.” His reply is as speedy as light and he uses it as courage to propel himself forward to perch next to you on the mattress.

You allow his presence. Actually, you welcome it with open arms and a shy smile.

“If you need someone to talk to about anything then you can count on me. Both of my ears are in pretty good shape. Can hear all sorts with these puppies.” His wrists flick by both sides of his head causing his hair to be blown back and forth.

It prompts a real laugh from you. Something honest.

Something true.

“Thank you, Eddie. That’s real sweet of you.”

Despite the high energy radiating from outwith the safety of your four bedroom walls, it failed to seep on through infect the pair of you. Life in this moment with Eddie felt easy, slow and you were in no hurry to change scenery.

With the door closed every pretence falls. The facade you show the world melts away and all you want is to exist with one another. In those tranquil seconds something unspoken shifts.

In the lamplight you discover more of Eddie than you’ve ever been gaul enough to before. Unafraid to meet his gaze as your eyes study his features. Honey eyes appear black, like bullet holes through his skull, encapsulating the light instead of reflecting it. Across the strong bridge of his nose you admire the faint freckles painted there, ever so tenderly kissed by the suns rays. Your next observation is one you hadn’t expected to affect you so much— his pillowy blood flushed lips.

Eddie knew what you were thinking. He could see it splayed all over your face like an open book. Your parted lips, your lidded eyes with pupils the size of a coin and the small scrunch in between the middle of your brows. It amused him more because he knew that you probably thought you were hiding it all so well. You wanted him. You fucking needed him. Who was he to deny his sweet angel of that?

“Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Praise. Something you craved with such greed. Something your heart beat inside of your chest for.

On instinct, you shake your head, “What? No…”

“I’m serious,” Tactical fingers stroke against the heated curve of your cheek, soft in your hair as he tucks a strand behind your ear, “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You watch round eyed and entranced as his two front teeth puncture his bottom lip— blissfully unaware of the way the pad of his thumb stroked against your own mouth.

Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. You had bewitched him, body and soul— or something like that.

“Been wanting this for so long…” His voice trails off, almost like he had accidentally spoken a private thought aloud, “The closer I am to you the more perfect you are.”

His deep voice purrs softly, lulling you to close the waning distance between you both. Your remain still, though, afraid you’ll ruin the moment.

“I’ve… I’ve never done this before.” The one thing you’ve wanted to confess for so long, “I don’t think I’m any good at it.”

You knew the ins and outs of sex, of course you did, you just hadn’t partook. Never provided the opportunity. Until now. Until Eddie.

You weren’t even sure that he wanted you in such a way— but what you knew was that you wanted it to be him.

He was the one to have you. He was the one to make it all better.

“How about I kiss you and we can go from there, sweet girl?” A slow and sure nod of approval from you is all Eddie needs to cross the forbidden line. Eyelids flutter closed as you prepare yourself mentally for whatever may happen next. This was your first time for most things: your first party, your first kiss and your first.. sexual encounter.

Above all else it was exciting but also quite terrifying.

You didn’t want it to hurt.

Expectant for Eddie’s lips to meet your own it pleasantly surprised you when his mouth ghosted over one of your eyelids, and then the other, teasing kisses over the entirety of your face. Everywhere but your mouth and it is sweet enough to give you toothache.

For as long as Eddie had wanted to see you this way, he also yearned to have you be his. To shower you in endless love and heartfelt affection. To provide you with the tenderness you so desperately deserved. He wanted to take care of you. In more ways than one.

“Eddie—“ you whine breathless and impatient but smiling all the same.

“Shhh… just keep those eyes closed, Baby. Good things come to good girls who know how to wait,” The small quirk in your expression had Eddie’s mind reeling with sinful ideas, “Are you a good girl, hmm? You wanna be my good girl?” His forked tongue kitten licks at the lobe of your ear and is accompanied by a shiver drilling down your spine.

Your hips shift against the bed, Eddie’s warm breath across your cheek spreads along the surface of your skin like a wild fire through dry brush, melting your loins as you struggle to hold on to any sort of rational thinking. Your grasp inexorably slipping.

When he finally leaned in you knew what was coming and shyly turned away, but his hand reached under your hair below your ear and turned you gently back to him, his thumb caressing your cheek. Lips parted and your heart fluttered as he guided you to his sensuous mouth and your breaths mingled in a way that felt fated. For a season tongues wrestled, fanning a minuscule smoldering ember into a ferocious flame.

Beneath the hem of your skirt Eddie’s thumb prowled the skin, leaving behind tedious circles of electricity. Trailing down, his fingertips tenderly traced the valley between your knees and upon reflex you press your thighs together. He grinned against you, pleased at the effect he had over your untarnished and perfectly responsive body.

Eddie is first to pull away from the heated entanglement, leaving the pair of you panting and searching desperately for breath. For a long moment Eddie examined your expression for any signs of second thoughts and panic but he found nothing but reddened cheeks and starving lips.

“Now, if anything happens that you don’t like just say the word and it’ll all stop, ‘kay? Gotta communicate with me.” His tone is suddenly serious and you meekly peek up at him through your eyelashes.

“Okay.” You whisper, the first you’ve spoken in minutes. He smiles, pleased with you.

“Climb on the bed for me.” Eddie scoots away from you, watching like a predator to prey at your uncertainty as you find a comfortable position on the bed.

“Like this?” You ask in innocence, searching for reassurance.

Eddie grumbles in approval, his voice deepening at the sight, “Mhm, just like that, Sweetheart. Doin’ so well.”

His body feels like liquid as he stands at the base of the bed, towering over you, “Part your legs, nice and slow,” You start, leaving them barely ajar as a self consciousness swarms your mind, “Further, Honey. I gotta see what I’m dealing with.”

Oh and what a sight it was. Powder blue panties plastered to the swell of your mound. Slickness meeting your folds solely from his kiss alone. The sight was biblical and dragged a guttural groan from Eddie’s throat, “Fuck, how are you even real?”

He sunk to his knees slowly, careful as to not startle you, his wide eyes remaining fixated on the space between your legs, “Gonna touch you now, Sweetheart. S’that okay?” His dark gaze flickers over you from head to toe, acknowledging the way your hands clutch the sheets looking for a lifeline, “Need you to relax, Baby. Can you do that for me?” His voice trails off and his smirk softens just a bit.

“I’m not gonna bite cha’… unless you ask nicely.” He winks, his tone teasing but not unkind which helps to ease the tension growing in your shoulder blades.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous…” Your voice is hushed as you carefully watch Eddie kneel between your parted thighs, the warm skin of his palms heat your knees as he balances himself above you.

“First rule, you never have to apologise. For anything,” Eddie melts at the way you soften, “And secondly, we don’t have to do this. I’m happy to just lay here with you…”

Sure, would he be disappointed? Yes. He has his dream girl at the mercy of his fingertips. But he wanted this to work— after all, the man saw himself marrying you a month ago.

“I want this,” You were I fingertips away to what you have wanted for weeks— A stern readiness urging you to continue on this steamy pursuit, “I’ll just need some guidance is all.”

A wide and wolffish grin splits Eddie’s face, “I can work with that.”

Resuming his previous position Eddie found a comfortable spot on the mattress between your thighs, his face only just visible behind your scrunched up skirt. A forked tongue darted onto Eddie’s bottom lip, the muscle longing to slip between your moistening folds, “Gonna touch you now, Princess. Remember what we talked about.”

You hum, breathing steadily as you succumb trustingly to Eddie’s touch. Eyelids are slow to close and the palm of your hand blindly finds the smooth and warm skin of Eddie’s forearm. A longing touch you have finally been able to quench.

Propped up on his elbows Eddie is tender as he tickles the insides of your legs, softly peppering the plush skin with lingering kisses which makes you shudder, “Heavenly. Absolutely stunning.” Each compliment is emphasised with a open mouthed kiss and a wet stroke of his tongue.

A string of small whines leaves your mouth in a breathy plead, your hips stirring up from the mattress slightly to try and meet Eddie.

Strong hands pin your hips to the spot, “If you keep moving I won’t be able to give you what you want. What do you want, huh?” His voice doesn’t waver and his grip leaves you, only for the pad of his thumb to stroke a pressured line down the seam of the panties from your clit to your aching hole, “Tell me, Pretty girl. What do you want?”

A gasp is shocked from your throat and you grew more sensitive with each passing second and with that reactivity there came desperation, “Eddie…” Your voice is dripping in sin, sweet and laboured. All air leaves your lungs in total entirety, “Please.”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, all you knew was that you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted his touch all over you.

A shiver strikes Eddie’s spine like a match and he buries his nose into your heat, sniffing in your scent like a bloodhound on a trail, “Fuck— I’m gonna take your panties off, kay’? Is that okay?” Truth be told, Eddie was just as needy as you were in this moment. He was eager and willing to do absolutely anything to please you.

“Yes— yes that’s okay.” Shakily you lift your hips to try and rip the fabric down yourself, but Eddie settles you back down gently and helps you to slide them down your legs. You relax again, then sensuality of the action urging all tension to drift from your body.

Slyly he pockets the underwear for later but he soon is left gawking with a slack jaw at the banquet between your thighs which just ached to be devoured by him, “Pussy is so pretty. What a picture…” Spell bound he crawls toward you, his arms linking around your upper thighs and dragging your greedily toward his face, “This may tickle at first, may feel a bit odd—“

His presence alone was enough to send you reeling, “Please, Eddie, I can’t wait any longer—“

He didn’t need to be told twice. He was already salivating to a concerning level.

It’s as if you forget how to breathe when his mouth collides with you—hungry, wet and feverish. Your insides pulse and your muscles tense in the best way. A moan erupts from the pit of your stomach and your eyes pinch closed in ecstasy.

“Oh Honey—“ He cooed, his words muffled by the mouthful he has on his tongue, the vibrations rippling through you like a current of recklesswater.

It took such concentration for you to focus on the way Eddie lapped and nuzzled into your leaking cunt. His hands roamed your body freely and found grace in nipping and squeezing your stiffened nipples beneath your button-up blouse. Your head spun with lewd thoughts and your throat was vocal all on its own. You and no control over it.

Eddie’s lips sucked and consumed you with such shamelessness, each stroke and prod of his stiff tongue to your swollen clit left your mewling like an animal in heat.

“Feels so good, please don’t stop— agh,” Your head is heavy as it presses back into the pillow beneath it, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as your fingers lace into Eddie’s hair, gently tugging on the strands which elicits a growl from his throat.

Goosebumps arise on your skin, raising every bodily hair to stand on end when you feel the tips of Eddie’s fingers teasing your gushing entrance. You were past the point of communication now— whatever Eddie wanted to do, you were right there with him.

His pursuit is hot on you clit, stimulating you to the point of tears when he eases his middle finger inside of you, inch by inch until he is fully submerged. He pumps his fist gently, stretching you out until you’re ready for a second finger. With your arousal it doesn’t take long at all until you’re nearly ready for a third.

Erotic sounds create a symphony that fills the space, drowning out the chaos happening beneath you, “Such a greedy little pussy hmm, swallowing my fingers to the knuckles.” His digits curl within you which causes your spine to arch slightly, pleasure taking over and burning into your lower abdomen, “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long— touch myself to you all the time.” His confession sends you to another dimension, one where rational thought just doesn’t exist. You grind against the palm of his hand and when his lips reattach to your clit it sends your spluttering over the edge and plummeting back to earth, your walls clenching around him as your body quivers into the springs below.

“Fuck—“ Your vision is shaky as Eddie plants a kiss to your lips, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth allowing you to taste yourself on him.

“Ready for the main event?” He speaks into your neck where his teeth drag and nibble at the skin, sure to leave bruising along the curve to your shoulder.

That’s when you feel it, his stiff bulge pressing into the soaked skin of your upper thigh. Still high on your first release all you can muster vocally is a soft hum and a eager nod.

“Gotta hear you, Sweetheart. Do you wanna feel me?” The tip of his nose kisses yours and you smile at the sight of his gorgeous brown eyes which appear more amber in the warm hue of the light. More inviting and romantic.

“Yes. I want that.” Another press of wet lips against yours, Eddie’s quirk up at the corners with his hands lovingly stroking your hair.

“S’ all I needed to hear, Baby. We’re gonna take it nice and slow. Got you all warmed up.” His hand sneaks down to cup your mound, his fingers relishing the slickness that they are met with as they pump back inside of you— testing the waters to ensure they’re still warm.

“Can I undress you?” The words are foreign in your mouth, like an unknown entity had possessed your voice box, cloning you and then speaking.

Eddie only grins, his response immediate, “Absolutely, Princess. Up ya get.” Forcefully, but not brutishly, Eddie takes hold of your upper arms and brings you to sit in an upright position, “We can undress each other.”

Excitement burnt Eddie’s chest when your eyes lit up at the idea and he found himself cupping your face in the palms of his hands and kissing you delicately and passionately.

“I’ll go first.” He couldn’t wait a second longer to see you, all of you, bare for him. Your soul exposed to him.

Button by tedious button Eddie’s fingers fight with your blouse in a painstaking battle to undress you. It’s all worth it when he sees your bra. A blush pink colour and a modest but pretty design against your flesh.

“Breathtaking.” He could look at you forever.

Your face heats bashfully under his gaze and your hands are hesitant to reach for him, “My turn…” You mutter, your fingers curling around the hem of his acid washed t-shirt and gently removing it up and over his head which leaves his hair slightly tossed an dishevelled.

You allow the garment to fall to your lap and your hands lay flush against the skin of his chest, revelling in the warmth of him, “You’re beautiful, too, Y’know.” You peek up at him through your eyelashes, smirking at the way Eddie’s cocky face starts to flush.

“Thank you…” Is all he meekly musters, his shoulders softening as he melts into you. The quiet moment brings you closer together, foreheads blissfully meeting as Eddie’s fingers unclasp the hooks of your bra, the elastic straps falling from your shoulders and gliding effortlessly from your frame.

You welcome it and Eddie tries not to stare. He had seen women naked before— but none like you. None as soft and angelic. You belonged in a gallery, displayed with pride next to other great pieces of art.

He hadn’t ever felt this lucky, to see someone as perfect as you up close.

It felt like dream.

Only when you decide to unbuckle his belt is Eddie snapped back to the present, his hands smoothly massaging the plumpness of your thighs as he waits his turn to steal the only article of clothing you have left— your skirt.

“Stand up,” He demands in a voice is so low it could be mistaken as a whisper. Contently you comply, rising to your feet and finding your place stood in front of Eddie’s seated silhouette. Sensually, he begins his pursuit on the zipper of the garment. Carefully as to not snag the fabric as he cranks it down and lets it fall from your waist. Leaving you slightly chilled and totally naked before him.

Instinctively his fingertips trace the curvature from your hips to your waist, soft and inviting as they paw and palm the tender flesh of your breasts.

Promptly Eddie rises to meet you, pulling your body close to his and in one swift motion he is laying you back onto the bed, standing to remove the rest of his pesky clothes.

He massages his cock through the denim of his jeans and moves on to pull them down his legs, kicking them off onto the floor and then doing the same with his underwear— only this time he is menacingly slow. Ensuring he has your full and undivided attention when his throbbing cock springs free from the waistband.

Part of you couldn’t believe what you were really seeing. Eddie Munson, fully stripped and in front of you. His sex in his hand with the tip red and glistening— aching and leaking for you. Your touch. Your thoughts flicker to how he will fit inside of you. The stretch. You yearned for it. Trembled for it.

“Safety first.” He reaches into his pocket to retrieve a red foil packet, tearing the ragged edge with his teeth and taking the condom from inside. Entranced you watch his fingers roll it along his thick length from tip to base and your pulse quickens with excitement.

He stands looming above you, his demeanour darker as he climbs onto the bed and positions himself between your legs. His elbows rest at either side of your head and his eyes bore into yours, “You ready?” His rough thumb strokes across your brow bone and Eddie chuckles softly at your fast nod.

He holds his hand in front of his mouth and spits into it, covering it in saliva.

Reaching down between the both of your bodies he smears his drool all over your pussy, his fingers pushing and pumping inside of you again, “Oh yeah, she’s desperate for me, huh? You want it bad, Baby, don’t cha’?” His dirty words plagued your mind and infected it from the core outwards. Forever changed. Your body writhed and you moaned into the shell of his ear with each thrust of his skilful fingers, and just as he stopped you felt a much larger push at your clenching hole.

Eddie ruts his rampant cock against you, covering himself in slick before he is carefully pushing inside of you, his eyes hooked on your face as he does, “Just the tip, first…” He promises and you nod, breathing shallow as your mind focuses on the intoxicating stretch of your core, “You okay?” He asks, unbeknownst to you he is still pushing inside, inch by inch.

You smile up at him and nod an unspoken ‘yes’, your eyes half lidded and shimmering as you welcome his sinking shaft.

“Fuck, squeezing me so good. Made for me.”

With each frisky word Eddie spoke it had you growing wetter, inviting more of him to plunge into you and back out again. His hips still whilst he is fully submerged, allowing you time to fully adjust to his length and girth before he rocks into you.

You moan when his hips snap back against you, the feeling familiar but intense, “Ya like that? Feel good?” He searches for reassurance.

“Yes.. yes.” You stutter, half moan and half confirmation.

Every kiss has a raw intensity - breathing fast, heart rates faster. Then before you know how it happened you are skin moving softly together, like the finest of silk.

His hand enters from below moving fast to tangle in your hair and your tongues entwined in a sloppy kiss. He changes your breathing with every feral thrust, hearing your moans timed to the muscular movements of his body.

Then all at once he stops and kisses from your breasts to the flesh of your stomach, his hands feather light and ticklish before resuming his previous position. He’s licking and biting and using his fingers all at once. Watching every reaction on your face, feeling how your legs move and stiffen, watching your body writhe.

You release a moan, unable to articulate a response when Eddie whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Praising you. Telling you how he’s going to ruin you. How good of a girl you are for him.

In seconds he’s fucking you harder, pounding you into the mattress just long enough to intoxicate your mind before stopping again. A strategy of his to ensure you’ll get hooked on this drug forevermore— his drug. Him and only his.

“Fuck— so tight, Baby. Think I’m gonna burst.” You could feel his muscles straining on top of you and his cock twitching inside of you. You wondered how it would feel to have him spill inside of you—

“Eddie arggh—“ You claw at his back, your hips bucking up to meet Eddie’s every move. Skin slapping against skin.

You were fucking hooked alright.

Sensations sky rocket and you swear there’s a moment where you are floating outwith the confines of your own body, looking down on the way Eddie humps you like a jackrabbit. The imagery proves to be too much, sending you into total over stimulation and you shake and nearly scream at the pleasure that comes with each deep stroke of Eddie’s cock.

“Gonna cum, Sweetheart if you keep grabbing me like tha—“

“Me too!!“

You squeal, clutching to Eddie’s bicep like your life depended on it, and at its upmost tallest height, you succumb to it all and falter beneath him. A shaking and shivering mess as your ride your comedown along Eddie’s length.

Moments after, Eddie collapses onto you after chasing his own orgasm, smiling like an idiot into the crook of your neck. Your perfume penetrated his brain in a way he could only describe as witch craft and you lovingly paw at his dampened hair.

“So…” you pant, out of breath and slightly delirious, “Where do we go from here?”

Eddie’s strong arms position your naked body to lay flush against his bare and sweat sheeted chest, “Well… how about I start all the official paperwork to take you out on a date?” His fingers comb through you hair, creating a tiredness within you that you hadn’t noticed until now.

A small yawn cuts through the untroubled space and you would have giggled at his remark if you weren’t so sleep stricken, “Mmm, yeah?” Your face nuzzles into the fleshy pillow of his pectoral muscle, “What kind of date?”

The sound of his heart beating against your ear lulls you into a state of unconsciousness. A place between awake and deep slumber.

“Anywhere you want, Sweet girl. Anywhere you want.” Eddie presses kisses to your hair, his vice like grip around you tightening like an anaconda. He refused to let you go.

It was you and him from here on out.

Against all odds.

Always.

-

You didn’t really blame your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. He wasn’t well versed in the act either, and you both had been eachothers first when you fell into his bed three years ago.

He had tried…you think.

As you stuff your cunt full with your fingers, you realize you’re just as bad at trying as he was.

It’s hopeless and your fingers ache from all the different speeds and angles you had tried and with an irritated groan, you shove of your blankets from around your waist and ready yourself for the day.

You’re still aching, or you think you are, still swollen in your underwear, and you have to hold back frustrated groans as you walk back and forth, carrying the disease-ridden corpses to the large fire in the middle of the square.

When you break for lunch, you’re sweaty, pent and beyond irritated. Picking at your lunch tray, you press your chin into your palm, trying to ignore the way the brush of your denim sends jolts down your spine.

“All day.”

You pause, the unfamiliar voice catching you off guard and you look up, squinting in the summer sunlight at the figure that stands across the wooden table.

Joel is easily recognizable. You can’t say you know him but you know of him, a prominent worker and figure in the QZ. He’s broad, the fabric of his shirt spreading over his shoulders tight, the line of his mouth pressed even tighter.

“Huh?” You say after a moment when he doesn’t reply, just stares at you. Joel’s frown deepens.

“You got dumped,” he states, and you can see his fingers flex within his pockets. “What, nearly three weeks ago?”

“A-a month,” you whisper, bewildered as to why he’s talking to you and how he even knows that. “Why?”

“A month.” Joel hums, and sits down across from you. Beneath the wood, his knee brushes yours and you jolt, fingers tightening around your fork, and he pauses before templing his hands infront of his face.

“What?” You snap after several long seconds of silence, and Joel blinks, slow and contemplative.

“I have a good nose,” he says, dropping his hands. “Always have. And I’ve been smelling you all day.”

Your cheeks heat, and you subtly dip your nose to your arm. Joel laughs, the sound gravely and odd coming from a man like him. “I don’t mean like that.”

“What?” You say again and you feel stupid. Joel leans forward, a hand braced on the table as his eyes move up and down your frame.

“That stickiness between your thighs,” he murmurs, his voice now low so only you hear. “Been smellin’ it all day, darling. Guess you haven’t been properly fucked in a month.”

His words send you realing, your heart lodging into your throat and any type of response is lost to you. You stare at him, and he stares back, his jaw working as he drinks you in.

A smile spreads across his skin.

“Or maybe you haven’t been properly fucked, ever.”

You can feel the embarrassment crawl up your neck and you release your fork, folding your arms and shifting. You have to school your features not to display the buzz that jolts between your legs.

From his tan skin and seasoned eyes, you know Joel could, in his words, ‘properly fuck’. You aren’t sure why but you know this is a fact, you know his woman rarely leaves the bed unsatisfied and you’re suddenly too warm, too swollen under his gaze.

He raises an eyebrow. “Guess I’m right.”

“Could you do better?”

You aren’t sure where the boldness came from. You just know that you need to know the answer.

Joel doesn’t respond right away, but there’s a shimmer in his eyes as he rises to the bait. “Would you like to find out?”

You don’t give yourself a chance to think about your answer, about the consequences it could invoke. You nod, a singular movement of your head. He tilts his head, a small grin pulling at the corner of his mouth and your skin is practically buzzing.

“Mine or yours?” You ask, if not just to make the silence not so thick.

His grin grows wider, a lazy expression that has your blood heating. “Yours. I’ll be there around eight.”

Joel stands up just as easy as he sat down, and when he tosses you a wink, your thighs clench.

-

True to his word, Joel is in your bedroom, his head tilted and hands in his pocket as he stares at you at 8:03.

You’re dressed in cotton shorts and a buttoned up flannel, and despite the night air, you’re sweating. He stares at you like you’re already bare, already naked for him, and you shift uncontrollably under his gaze.

“Honey,” Joel says and it’s the softest he’s ever spoken. “You don’t have to do this.”

You shake your head. “No I- want to. I just- um. Don’t know a lot.”

Joel exhales through his nose, slow and measured, like he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes—but not at you. At himself. “Yeah, I figured,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. Then his voice drops lower, rough but careful. “We don't have to do shit you don't want.”

His hands stay in his pockets as he takes a step closer. He moves like it’s nothing, like this isn’t making your heart thud so loud you're sure he can hear it.

“Tell me what you know.” he says instead of touching you right away. His voice is gravel under boots, quiet but impossible to ignore.

You swallow hard against the dryness in your throat before answering: “...Not much.” It's honest if nothing else.

Joel hums again like this isn’t news either before nodding toward the bed behind him with a jerk of his chin, sit down. When your legs carry you there on autopilot, wooden steps until fabric meets bare thighs, Joel drags one knee onto the mattress beside yours and pauses just long enough for nerves or anticipation, you can't tell which, to coil tight in your gut.

“First rule.” His fingers catch under your jaw without warning,not hard enough to hurt but firm enough that flinching doesn’t free it from him either when warmth floods up beneath skin where callouses scrape against softness there instead; thumb pressing gently along pulse point beneath ear while dark eyes hold yours prisoner just as easily. “Don't lie about what feels good.”

The words settle heavy between breaths drawn too quick already because Christ alive even this simple touch burns hotter than anything else has ever had.

Exhaling through his nose, Joel raises his hand to your face, fingers brushing your lower jaw before settling onto your neck. He’s warm, the callouses on his hand rough on your skin as he angles your face to the side, eyes tracking up the column of your throat.

“Breathe.” he commands, and he dips his face, his nose brushing your neck. You shiver, your spine ramrod straight.

“I am.” Your voice is a squeak of a whisper, and you think you can feel him smile against your skin.

Joel hums, amused, like he knows you’re lying. His breath is warm against your neck as his thumb presses a little harder into your pulse point, making your breath hitch again.

“No, you ain’t.” He murmurs the words right against your skin before pulling back just enough to catch your eye again. His gaze is dark, unreadable except for the faintest glint of something that makes heat pool low in your stomach. “You’re holdin’ it all in like someone’s gonna hear.” His other hand comes up and drags a single fingertip down the side of your throat until it rests over the hollow at its base. “Breathe,” he repeats softly before adding with just enough roughness to make you tremble: “Or I'll make ya.”

And God help you if that doesn't send another jolt straight through you. You exhale fully, breathing out your mouth and he runs his thumb along your jaw in quiet praise.

“Aint gonna rush,” he mutters, and his teeth graze your skin. “Unless that’s what you like.”

“I don’t know what I like,” you whisper, and you feel the shame of inexperience coloring your cheeks. “Not really.”

Joel pauses at that, pulling back just enough to study your face. His fingers stay where they are—anchoring, rough in a way that shouldn’t be soothing but somehow is.

“Then we figure it out,” he says simply, like it’s that easy. Like he hasn’t just taken the weight of your uncertainty and shouldered it without blinking. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, testing, before his voice drops lower: “You tell me to stop anytime.”

The way he says it isn't a request or even really an order; more like a fact carved into stone between you both.

He waits until you nod before sliding his hand from your jaw to the back of your neck instead, firm but not unkind as he guides you forward into a first real kiss shared between basically strangers.

Joel tastes like coffee, his lips a little chapped but softer than you would’ve thought. He cradles your face, almost tenderly, and you open your jaw, licking at his tongue as he licks at yours and you feel the heat pooling in your belly, the need rising like a palpable thing on your skin. When he pulls back, his eyes are glassy and he stares at you. You blink back, uncertainty like an electric charge over you.

“I- sorry,” you whisper. “Was that bad?”

The edges of his lips kick up as he lets out a huff of a laugh, not unkindly. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, staring at you for a long moment, something in his eyes you can't quite decipher—then he shakes his head, a smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. “You ain't got no idea just how pretty you look like this, do you?”

He runs his hand through your hair before cupping the side of your face again. “Don't go apologizing for nothing just yet.”

His hands move to your shoulders and he pushes you down until you’re on your back, skirting over your hips and squeezing. You watch him quietly, chewing at your lip as his thumb brushes the skin of your lower stomach.

Your breath hitches, and his eyes flick to yours.

He’s really handsome. Like you just realized that fact.

Joel’s palm slides under the fabric of your flannel, cupping your ribs just below your breast and you exhale with a shaky breath. He removes his hand, fingers dipping to the buttons of your shirt.

Joel works the buttons open with a kind of easy efficiency that you can only get with practice, and it hits you that this is something he probably *is* practiced in—that your inexperience isn't going to make him shy away. His eyes roam over you hungrily, like he's studying every inch of skin he reveals. He's silent, too. Silent and focused. His fingers work with single-minded precision, until your shirt hangs open and he slides his palms up your belly, warm and firm. His hands are rough and big—callouses scraping softly against your skin as he spreads them flat against your ribs.

He lets out a low whistle at your naked chest, and you hope you aren’t blushing.

“Knew you’d be pretty.” he murmurs, and you are barely able to digest his words before his head dips and he takes a nipple into his mouth.

His lips are soft as the suckle, releasing with a light pop before his tongue licks slow strips on the skin. You gasp, hands gripping the sheets by your sides and his eyes track the movement. He pauses before shaking his head.

“Nuh uh,” he hums, and grabs your hands, moving them to his hair. “Hold here.”

“Oh.” You whisper, because words are hard to gather when he kisses and licks your skin like that.

You grip his hair without being told twice, fingers tangling in the strands. Joel hums against your skin, his hands moving lower as he trails kisses down to your belly button. He circles it with his tongue, his fingers playing lightly across the soft expanse of skin at the edge of your shorts, before his gaze flicks to yours again: “Lift your hips.”

His voice is a little rougher this time, his dark eyes darkening even further as you do exactly as you're told.

Joel removes your shorts and panties in one clean tug, and you’re naked beneath him while he’s still fully dressed. “This doesn’t seem fair.”

He glances down at himself, a smile on his lips as he sits up and tugs off his shirt. You sit up, and are nearly on autopilot as you run a hand down his bare chest.

He’s tanned and scarred but beautiful.

Warm to the touch, there’s a healed cut from his shoulder to the top of his peck, and you run your fingers over it lightly. You’re so enthralled with touching him that you forget you’re bare, forget that he’s watching you and that he’s only the second person in your life to see you naked.

Joel's eyes follow your touch, an almost indulgent gleam in them as he watches you trace the map of his skin, tracing every mark and scar without judgement, only curiosity. He doesn't say anything, doesn't tease you like a man with his ego might, he just lets you look. Lets you touch.

But when your fingers brush the waistband of his jeans, his hand catches your wrist, stopping you. The gesture is gentle but firm, and he tilts his head to meet your gaze, his voice even but lower than before: “Not yet.”

“Oh,” you breath, feeling exposed under his gaze. “Okay.”

You lay back down, your eyes never leaving his and Joel releases a slow breath. One hand on either of your knees, he slowly separates your legs, exposing your center to the night air.

You flush red hot, arms instinctively coming up to hide some part of yourself, and his mouth quirks.

“Don't,” he says simply, and it's hard to argue with that gravelly voice of his when it dips into an order you find yourself wanting to follow. His hands tighten on your knees, just enough to keep your legs where they are. His eyes are fixed on you, watching every nuance in your expression. “Don't cover yourself.”

You let your head fall back, staring at the ceiling above as your chest rises and falls too quickly. Your heart is beating so fast you're sure he can see it through your skin.

His left hand skates down your inner thigh, pausing before his eyes flick to yours and you break.

“Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Talk to me.”

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest as his fingers trace idle patterns on your thigh—close enough to where you want him that it’s maddening, but not close enough yet.

“Talk to you?” His thumb brushes higher, teasing along the crease of your leg before dipping just barely inward, not quite touching where you need him, but close enough to make your breath hitch. “What d'you wanna hear? That you're goddamn pretty laid out like this? That I've been thinkin' about how you'd sound when I finally got my mouth on ya?”

His other hand slides up to grip your hip as he leans down slightly, still watching you.

“Or,” he murmurs against the inside of your knee before nipping lightly there and making heat spike straight through already-overheated skin below. “How bad I want ya shaking before we're done.”

A moan slips past your lips, quiet and shaken and you squeeze your eyes shut. You barely knew him, and yet he was face first in your most intimate place. You want to please him. You want him to want you.

“Is it good?”

Joel exhales against your skin, warm, damp, so close to where you need him, before answering in a voice rough enough to drag shivers down your spine: “Fuckin' perfect.”

His thumb presses firm just below where you ache most before dragging upward in one slow stroke that makes your hips jerk off the mattress. He clicks his tongue at the movement but doesn’t scold, just tightens his grip on your thigh with a low, “Easy.”

He leans down and licks a slow stripe up through slick heat like he’s savoring it. His groan vibrates straight into you as he does it again, slower this time before pausing to murmur against trembling skin: “Yeah. You taste good too. Think you don’t?”

You’re panting, and you look down at him between your thighs. His pupils are blown and he’s so handsome you wonder how you never noticed before.

“I-“ you swallow, not sure if you should share this because it’s too emotional. Joel is here for your body, not your feelings. You squeeze your eyes shut. “N-nothing.”

His attention flicks back up to your face, sharp and focused in a way that makes the air feel too heavy to breathe. “Bullshit,” He says flatly. “Look at me.”

You open your eyes, and Joel is staring at you, gaze steady and dark. He's watching you with a kind of intensity you can't remember a man ever giving you before. “You were about to say something.” His voice is even, but there's an edge to it now, a command. “Say it.”

He's got you spread wide open on the bed, knees pushed apart, completely exposed for his hungry gaze.

“He wouldn’t say things like that,” you whisper, and you hate having this conversation while his tongue is inches from your cunt. “He talked but not, not like you.”

Joel stills completely for a heartbeat before exhaling sharply through his nose. His grip on your thigh tightens just enough to make you aware of the strength in those calloused hands before he deliberately relaxes it again.

“What’d he say?”

Your cheeks burn and you exhale, rushing the words out. “wasn’t good enough. I was never good enough at things like this,” You don’t look at him, letting your head fall back and your thighs shake in his hold. “but you’re nothing like that.”

“Good.” The word is rough, almost guttural as he leans back in without breaking eye contact. “Ain't him here right now.” His mouth brushes against overheated skin, making your breath catch all over again before adding with a low hum. “And I ain't ever gonna half-ass this for ya.”

Then he does what his words promise, shuts you up thoroughly by dragging his tongue through slick heat slow enough that you feel every damn second of it, pausing only to murmur against wet flesh when your hips jerk helplessly upward: “Yeah... there ya go.”

Joel doesn’t rush to get you off. Hes slow, taking his sweet, filthy time with long, deliberate licks that catch every nerve ending.

You squirm beneath him, your lips parted and eyes tight as his large arm drapes over your waist, pinning you in place. Chin lifting he stares at your puffy slit, fingers spreading you open so he can see just how needy you are.

“Look at ya,” he murmurs, a southern drawl rearing its head. “Absolutely good enough.”

He plants a closed-mouthed kiss to your cunt before working up your frame, his beard scraping your chest and chin before his lips slide over yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

His hand cups your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his other sliding down between your bodies. His fingers are rough as they trace your folds again—testing, teasing, before circling tight over where you need him most.

“Joel…” Your voice cracks on his name when he rubs slow circles just right, pressure toeing the line between not enough and too much. Slow, lazy strokes. No rhythm that would finish you, just selfish enjoyment of how your body responds to his touch. He swallows every sound you make like it's something special.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your lips—but his fingers don't stop moving. “Use them pretty words.”

Your head is fuzzy.

You blink, try to string words together in a coherent fashion. “Inside.”

“Inside?” He hums, withdrawing his fingers and pressing his hips to yours. He’s hard in his pants, and you give a broken echo of a moan at the pressure before you nod.

Joel exhales sharply at the nod, something hot and primal flashing in his eyes as he leans back just enough to yank open his belt buckle with one hand, teeth gritted. The sound of leather sliding free is loud in the quiet room.

“Yeah,” he rumbles, eyes dropping when denim finally gives way, shoving fabric down just enough to free himself without breaking contact for longer than absolutely necessary before pressing close again: “Inside where, sweetheart?”

His palm drags up your thigh possessively while calloused fingers tip your chin up, forcing you to meet that dark stare even as heat floods deeper between already-slick thighs below from sheer tone alone. No room left for doubt now about what exactly kind of man has crawled into bed with you.

“Say it.”

“Me,” you whisper, and he grips his length, the head red in his fist. “Inside me.”

Joel groans, a ragged, gravelly sound that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck, He's watching you like he's ready to eat you—will eat you, if he has his way—and the thought makes your skin tingle in all the best ways, and all the worst.

He adjusts positions, hand moving from your jaw to your neck, calloused thumb brushing over your throat as he leans down over you, lips just a breath away from yours.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmurs, shifting closer until you can feel the heat of his skin against your inner thighs. “That what you want? Wanna feel me in you?”

The blunt head of his cock brushes over your clit and you jolt, mouth falling open and then he’s pushing in, your walls cradling him like a vice.

You choke on a gasp, feeling a stretch you hadn’t felt in weeks. It’s different than with your ex, and you feel warmer, tighter, brighter as Joel begins to move his hips. A hand braces by your head while the other paws at your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers.

You have to look away, the intensity of his gaze, the look in his eyes—it's like he's trying to memorize every detail of how you look in that moment, searing the image into his mind—and it's like he's reaching right into your chest to grasp at something in you—the words escape against your will, “God, why are you so…?”

The hand at your breast moves to your chin, guiding it back to him, making you look at him. “No, don't hide from me.”

You scrunch up your nose because you don’t know him. He’s a neighbor, a passerby, a fellow survival. Someone you’d never considered all that deeply til now. Now he’s all you can feel; all you can want.

He kisses you and you close your eyes, bathing in the touch of his affections, your legs wrapping around his waist.

His mouth moves and he kisses and licks and bites everywhere he can reach, like he's trying to consume you through skin instead of food, desperate to get every scrap of everything he can from this. His hand slides down your body and you can feel callouses, rough and warm everywhere he touches. He pushes your leg higher, changing his angle so he can get deeper.

The kiss is more teeth than tongue, but you don't mind. It's everything you want, everything you didn’t know sex could be.

Theres a heat at the base of your spine, and your thigh twitches, your nails scraping lightly down his chest and he lowers himself, balancing on his elbow so he’s closer.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs into your hairline. “I know you’re close.”

You're shaking, hips twitching, begging in silence, but Joel just hums and keeps kissing you, completely lost in the filthy bliss of touching, stretching, and causation of making you this wet. This needy.

He's all coiled-up muscle, a coiled-up beast of a man, and you can feel how much he's trying to restrain himself, to not let it go too fast.

He nips and nibbles at your jaw and your throat, and his body is all heat and friction and power and weight, pressing you into the mattress. His hand finds its way back to your breast, his hand fitting over the curve of it as if it's made to be there and you snap.

Your legs tighten and back arches as waves and waves of pleasure explode over your skin. You’ve never felt an orgasm like this, not with your ex and certainly not with yourself. Water pricks at your eyes and you moan, loud and deep and Joel murmurs into your ear, praising you quietly as he fucks you though it.

Joel is murmuring things that barely register through your haze, telling you you're ‘so good’ and ‘so pretty’ and ‘can take it like such a good girl’, and you can feel yourself getting overwhelmed again, getting lost in him in a way you don't quite understand.

He kisses you again, and you can feel the change in his movements—from gentle to taking, his breath coming out a ragged rasp against your mouth, and you can't think about anything besides him, all his weight pressing on you, all you can feel is you’ve never felt this good.

“Thought I’d last longer, sweetheart,” Joel murmurs, and his thrusts become ragged. “Didn’t know you’d be so damn sweet.”

He groans, and your lashes flutter as you crane your neck, nipping at his lower lip. Pressing his face into your neck and braving one hand by your head, Joel pulls from you, his opposite hand fisting his cock until his spend shoots on your thigh.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is your mingled breathing—heavy and uneven. Joel exhales roughly against your skin before lifting his head to look at you. His dark eyes are still glazed over, but there's something soft in them now too.

“Alright?” He murmurs as he drags a thumb through the mess on your thigh, almost absently, like he can't help touching you even now.

You nod dumbly because words still feel impossible when he's looking at you like that. Like he’s seeing something more than just skin-deep.

Joel hums approvingly before shifting off of you, but instead of getting up or rolling away completely, his arm tugs you into him until your back is pressed against his chest. His fingers trace idle patterns over the bare skin of your hip like this is normal—like falling asleep tangled together after sex isn’t entirely new territory for both of you.

It’s quiet for a beat, and your heart begins to slow, your temperature returning to normal as understanding begins to dawn on you.

You had just fucked an essential stranger.

And it had been the best sex of your life.

You squirm, his arm warm around you and Joel grunts. “What?”

“Nothing,” you whisper, too quickly, and you feel him pause. “I just- that was-“

Joel makes a low sound in his throat as his nose brushes behind your ear. “Good, huh?”

There's a smugness in his voice beneath a rough, rumbling quality. You can feel his chest rumble with what might be a silent laugh as you squirm, and his hand tightens on your hip.

“yes.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder as he says, “Just 'good’?”

It had been amazing.

“No, not just good,” you murmur, and you turn in his arms to face him. “But I think you know that.”

Joel grins, the expression stretching lazily over his features. You smile back before sitting up and tugging your flannel over your arms, button the first few to give yourself a little bit of decency.

“And…me?” You keep your tone quiet and your eyes down lest his disappointment be evident on his face.

Joel watches your fingers fumble with the buttons before catching your wrist, a grounding weight. His thumb strokes over your pulse point absently as he studies you.

“Better'n good,” he says simply, like that's all there is to it. But then his voice drops lower, rougher: “Didn't expect you to feel like that either.”

It's not flowery praise or sweet nothings—just honesty that lands somewhere deep in your chest anyway because Joel Miller doesn't seem like the kind of man who lies about things like this. His hand releases yours only to push back into his own hair with a tired sigh before falling back against the pillows behind him—but when you shift uncertainly beside him, half-wondering if this is where polite strangers say their goodbyes, one arm snakes out and drags you firmly against his side again without ceremony.

“Stay put,” he mutters into the dark. “Christ.”

You laugh lightly, and lay your cheek atop his shoulder. “You don’t um, have to stay. If you don’t want to. You don’t..owe me anything.”

Joel snorts, the sound rough with amusement, or maybe just exhaustion, as his arm tightens around you. “Ain't about owing.”

He shifts slightly beneath you, his free hand coming up to brush a thumb over your cheek in what might be an absent gesture if it weren’t so deliberate.

“I’ll stay," he mutters, quieter this time. Like it's that simple for him too.

Maybe it is.

The room settles into something quiet, the kind of silence that doesn’t demand filling as Joel’s breathing evens out next to you, warm against the back of your neck while calloused fingers trace idle shapes over the fabric of your flannel where it rides up at the waist.

Your eyelids grow heavy, and before you begin to drift, you feel his lips press a kiss to the slope of your neck, and you bite back a smile as you close your eyes.

x

AO3 link

Angsty April ML

Joel Miller ML

You breathed in slightly deeper than before, "What'd you say when someone told you?" The thuds from the bean bag stopped, "Uh, I think I said something along the lines of I'd never tell them if we did." You sat up, huffing all tired still, "Should I make hot chocolate?" He gave a soft nod.

As you were rummaging in the kitchen behind the couch he kept throwing his little pouch. "I mean really, what a weird thing to bet on. You could have anyone." He said, amused tone in his voice. "You think so?" His head peaked over the backrest to look at you. "You don't?" You averted your eyes to the task at hand, pouring warm milk. "No, not really. I thought we talked about it before." "That was ages ago. I thought you were over that by now." He leaned his chin on the backrest, keeping a watchful eye on you. "Nope, still think I'm too much for most people." You stirred the mugs in front of you. "You're not. I mean I find people annoying a lot, but you're just factually not." You looked at him, "I meant... like... my expectations." He frowned a little, "A guy acting like a human being that actually likes you?" You chuckled and nodded. He sighed, "I mean to be fair it's rare but come on." "Problem is the rare one's I'd rather be friends with." You balanced the two mugs walking back over. You handed him one, "I get it. I'd do the same if I was you." You sat down next to him, sipping hot chocolate. "Not that I have too many guy friends of that nature." "Should I feel offended by that?" He raised a brow and smiled daringly behind his mug. "Oh shut up, Os." You rolled your eyes. 

He scootched a little closer to you. "Imagine we tell them some wild shit like we're engaged actually." You both snorted at that but his heart did that weird thing again.  "Would be kinda funny for the bit." You mumbled looking into your mug. "Yeah." His eyes were still on you, small smile on his face. "We'd be menaces, wouldn't we?" You chuckled again. "We'd be pretty mild I'd say." He analyzed mentally, "I mean we're mild right now." You looked at his thinking face, "I don't think you understand how clingy and unhinged I'd get in a relationship." A grin formed on his face, "Can't be much worse than you at 16 hogging my jackets and screaming weird shit on top of hills with me." You laughed out loud at that, "Fuck me that was a time."

His whole face was smiling as you laughed, "Not gonna lie, I did have a massive crush on you back then." Your face whipped around to his, "Wait, really?" He nodded, sipping from his cup, not meeting your eyes. "Hm...I guess I can kinda see it. You were less...boy-ish to me during that time." Your mind went back in time. "Boy-ish?" He angled his head to the side. "You know, like, the I don't care attitude, the one word answers, making everything a competition, that kinda stuff." He nodded understanding it now. "Yeah, I was really trying to be liked by you back then. Which...funny considering we were already friends." He analyzed out loud. "I mean it does make sense why you didn't fight me about wearing your stuff." You huffed amused at how you would've fought for it otherwise.

"You can still wear my stuff, you know that, right?" He looked down to see how much hot chocolate was left. "Yeah, but then everyone does shit like betting on us becoming a couple." You visibly cringed. "I don't care. I liked when you stole my stuff. You look better in that shit than me." You leaned back into the backrest a little, thinking about it all. "I think...I liked doing that back then because it made me feel safer?" He raised a brow, "In what way?" "I don't know. Lower chance of getting harassed?" His lips became a thin line with an acknowledging hum. "Did you ever feel like I did that as like...a sign?" He shrugged, "Probably. Don't really remember." He did remember. He absolutely thought that's what it was but you never gave any other signs besides that so he never dared to ask you out.

"Torturing 16 year old you, hm?" You giggled at the concept and he huffed with a smile. "I clearly survived." He put the mug on the table. "And then had a wholeass relationship in the time since then." You added at the relationship he had been in until a year ago. "Still no clue how I managed to do that." He chuckled at himself. "Me too. Way out of your league too." He shoved your shoulder in response. "Bold words from someone that had zero relationships in that time." He chuckled and you pretended like that fact didn't hurt at all. "Mhm, but hey, I got to hear 'the right person will come' about ten times a year." "They won't, they have to get past me." He jokingly became serious before you both giggled. You pulled your knees to your chest, "True, they'll be threatened to be run over by an F1 car with added spikes." He pulled you closer to him until he could lay back down with you cuddled into his side. "Repeatedly, mind you." "Repeatedly." You nodded.

"Whoever doesn't treat you well... it's on sight." He squeezed you. You looked up to his face to see him biting around on his lower lip and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks." Another one of those heart jumps. And then he suddenly stumbled over his words, "But like what do I do if I can't threaten myself like that? I mean, hypothetically..." You huffed at the anxious energy and cuddled up closer, "Hypothetically you wouldn't tell anyone else about it because I'd kill you instead." You said it insinuating things. Things like his little heart jumps. "Huh?" He was thrown off by that. "You're blushing like a school girl and you just admitted a teenage crush on me. I will read into it, you know?" You laughed softly. "Forgot 'I wear my heart on my cheeks' or whatever you called it." You both cackled at that quote.

He grabbed you closer, higher up, not resting on his shoulder anymore. "Hm. Yeah, I guess our friends have a bit of a point." You smiled, "Oh, do they?" You softly pushed your nose into his cheek. "We'd never tell them, right?" He whispered. "No, we'd never tell them." Your waist was squeezed, "But there would be signs." "Like?" – "Wearing your clothes."  He exhaled, a little strained, "I'd like that." "You sure?" You mumbled into his skin "I think a decade long crush with an intermission would make someone pretty sure." He scoffed clearly grinning.

"I wanted to kiss your cute little face back then too. Not quite a crush but...y'know." You could feel his chest move in a silent chuckle. "What about the less cute face now?" He asked and you met his eyes again, deep brown softness reflecting back at you. "Less cute?" You frowned at that. "Maybe less little, but less cute?" He pouted, clearly melting a bit at the compliment, "Whatchu mean?" You scrunched your nose smiling, "You still have a cute face. Unfortunately." "Unfortunately?" He raised both brows.  "I regret to inform you once again that women don't choose to be into men by their own volition." He snorted at that, head falling back a little.

"So I like the idea of telling them we're engaged actually." You added. "But like only if you're not my employer anymore." He mustered you, "Hm, we can do that." Then he bit his lip, "You seem pretty sure." You rolled your eyes, "Wow, man I've known for ages. I'm so scared. Bitch, I'm not the one that would ruin it." He grinned fingers gently on your chin, "I wouldn't ruin it either. You have any ring preferences?"  Now you were the one blushing, "I... don't know." "Silver, right? You mostly own silver." He was still studying your face. You nodded.

His fingers wandered over your cheek with a soft smile, "Can I kiss you?" You nodded blushing harder and met him in the middle. He was gentle, soft, warm. You parted slightly, "Wait, that wasn't your first kiss, was it?" You huffed and hummed an affirmative. "Could've done that so much better." "Os, I don't care. It's you." He did it again, hand cupping your face softly, "Mine." It wasn't said possessively but gently. He carefully pulled you into a position under him, guiding deepening kisses. Slowly. You sighed with your hand landing on his neck. Breathing became more difficult as he softly hummed and slipped his tongue into your mouth. His hand in your hair softly directing you. You both pressed your forheads together, "I thought about doing that way too many times." You giggled, "Oh really?" "All the time. Thank fuck I'm not too late." You could hear the big smile in his voice. "You're never too late." A soft kiss was planted on your lips, "I could've been. You deserve all the best firsts, hm?"  You double-inhaled at that statement laced in love, "Yeah."

You opened your eyes and so did he, "So, which hoodie d'you wanna steal?" You giggled at that, then became overly serious, "The one you're wearing." You could watch him blush at that, "Good lord, that's– You're insane, I see." You squeezed his neck, "Am I?" A kiss, "You want my pants too, or?" You huffed at that, "I mean I already owned you before but now..."  You could see a smile rise in his eyes, "...now you own me literally not just with words." "No, no, say what you wanted to say, you lil shit." You giggled. "Oh, you mean that now you own this dick, or...?" You both laughed at that.

His face moved to your jaw, "D'you want a specific gem in your ring?" He pushed small kisses into your jawline. "Um, yeah I think so? I've never really thought about it." Your fingers absentmindedly played with his hair. "Diamond?" He whispered close to your ear. "I... I mean– I don't really need– um..." He paralleled your faces again, "Anything you want, yeah? You can look at stuff and then tell me." You blinked up at him, "You... actually want to, like, do that?" He frowned a little, "Yeah, uh, I mean we've been friends for a decade, I think that's enough free trial to be sure?" You snickered at that, "Friendship and Relationship isn't THAT similar."

He sighed, "Do you think that after 10 years of you telling me what you wouldn't want in a relationship and listening to your insecurities I don't know what I'm getting myself into?"  You blinked up at him again, "But like, you'll do it properly, right?" He nodded, "And nothing public, promise." You let out an excited little sound and he chuckled, "Fucking adorable."

He watched your eyes cycle through thoughts, "What do I do for work instead?" "We'll find you something. I know how you feel about the whole financial dependency thing." He stated softly, "But honestly stop thinking about it, yeah? Today's not the day." You nodded, "And what day is it?"  "Depends." He mustered you, "This is either softest day of your life or day of firsts." You hid your face with your hands, "Os, you can't just say that." – "What? I'm just saying I'm willing to go with whatever you wanna do." "I'm sorry, but that sounded like...soft day inside or the most sexually charged 12 hours of your life." He laughed, "I don't know about 12 hours, but I could try 3?" You slapped his chest, "Shut up."

He pushed his nose into your cheek, "Why? D'you like the idea too much?" Silence, "I... no, yes, but no not really. I mean mentally yes, but..." He pushed a kiss on your cheek, "That's alright. You could die a virgin next to me and I'd still marry you." That hit you like a ton of bricks. The sincerity. The honesty. The fondness. Your lower lip started to tremble. "Hey, hey, no, don't cry." He held you closer. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." He looked down at you, slight concern in his eyes, wiping away your tear. "That's what I meant every time you talked about being unsure about sex and I said 'if someone argues with you about it, they're not for you'"  You nodded and he gave you another peck on the lips. "I'll never do anything you don't want." You nodded again. The concern in his eyes turned into fondness again. "I do want to, but I don't." He nodded. You had talked about this topic a few times before. The way you liked the theory of some things but not the practice. The way you struggled with sensory things connected to physical closeness to another person. He'd told you plenty of times to never settle for someone that doesn't accept that struggle.

"We can try at some point but we don't have to, hm?" He watched you carefully nod. "I know but..." – "I know. I know that shit is confusing and I'm signing up for that confusion right now, alright?" A finger went over your nose gently. A blush crept onto your face, "It's just, you're the only person I'd ever feel safe enough to try it with." His entire body tension reduced with an adoring smile, "I think that's the best compliment I've ever gotten." You grabbed him closer for a kiss. "Now gimme a hoodie." He laughed softly at that, getting up and padding over to his bedroom.

"Something I already had on or–" – "Yes!" He reemerged with a black mess in his his hands, "Get up." You stood up from the couch and he came to a hold in front of you with the fondest of looks on his face. "Um, you wanna wear the shirt under it or no?" He watched you bite around your lip, "I can close my eyes, you know?" You mumbled, "That feels ridiculous, we've just talked about getting fucking engaged." He wordlessly closed his eyes after bunching up the hoodie correctly in his hands. You took off your shirt and grabbed his wrist. He peeked a little as he pushed the hoodie over your head, slowly helping the textile with encompassing your body. 

"Future Wife." He spelled it out with pure love as you turned in the hoodie in front of him and you froze looking at him. Immediate tears in your eyes made him panic for a brief moment before he realized what he'd just said. Soft hands cupped your face, "Thank you for even wanting my dumb self as well." You smiled back at him teary-eyed. He pushed the two fallen tears aside, "You wanna online window shop?" You nodded. "Stop acting like husband material, you're a white rich guy." He laughed, "I would be pretty stupid to not love you how you deserve." You wiped another tear away with the sleeve of his hoodie this time. With a gentle grab he pulled you into his side to sit on the couch together and grabbed his laptop.

Watching a man type in Tiffany felt like you were inducted into some sort of rich people right of passage.

"Oh, that one's pretty." You immediately pointed at the iconic Sixteen Stone with the golden cross-stitch around it. "But I don't know if I wanna be stressed about losing a ring." He looked at you with a mix of 'of course, everything for you' and 'really dude? I'd just buy you a new one' on his face.  He opened the engagement ring page and started scrolling, and kept scrolling, and you sighed, "I don't like big gems. Who cares about that?" He clicked the wedding bands, because 'why not' he thought. "That one! I've had that one on my wishlist when I was like 19." You pointed at the Soleste V-ring.

He looked over to you, still the softest demeanor, "I'm getting you both, just so you know." – "But–" – "No discussion, you're getting that second one as your wedding ring and the first one as an engagement ring, yeah? You'll only wear it for so long anyway so stop worrying about losing it." He gently grabbed the entire lower part of your face with one hand, squishing your face a little. You'd never seen him do something crazy with his wealth like this in all those years except for a nice car and the very occasional expensive clothing piece which you could understand with his job.  "But you'll also wear an engagement ring, right? I don't like when men don't." You gave in and he smiled, "Sure, if you want."

You mustered him with your lips apart. This man was gonna spend not one, not two, but twenty grand on you. For the bit, for the friendship, for you. "Anything else?" He grinned knowing fully what he was doing. You shook your head. He opened the Sixteen Stone necklaces and the pearl ones, "Food for wedding thoughts?" That fucker listened when you were 19 talking about your dream wedding that one time, including the fancy necklace. The only time you'd ever talked to him about it. "Why do you remember that? You were in a relationship." He huffed, "I care. And like I said, if someone else wouldn't have done it I would've had to run them over, so..." He gestured to the screen.

You blinked at him, "We don't have to look at wedding stuff right now." "Damn, and if I want to?" He responded fake offended and you smiled at each other again. "Os, you know damn well I'm okay with simple shit." – "So am I, but you deserve it." – "I swear to god, don't make me cry three times in one day." He looked at you all smug, "But you're kinda cute when you cry." Immediate slap on his shoulder. "I hope you know I'll make you cry so many times during wedding planning. Infinite budget and all that." He gestured around. You rolled your eyes, "Infinite." He furrowed his brows, "If you don't think my mom would throw all her money at her only daughter-in-law, you're wrong. Especially with her knowing you...and probably about my teenage crush." His eyes looked up, a little embarrassed.

"So, how will we tell people? Just waiting till we actually have wedding invites sent out or do we show them engagement rings?" You both grinned slyly at each other about the planning that was about to ensue.

...

"So, switch of jobs, engagement, wedding date, engagement rings at a race timed with wedding invites?" He nodded, "And wedding date can be far in the future if you're more comfortable with that. Um, you know, with it being your first relationship and all."

You took in what had unfolded in the last 2-3 hours. "Did I just go from forever alone to engaged soon in half a day?" Osc laughed heartly at that one. "Am I coming on too strong?" – "Never."

wrote this for December but thought the Oscarinas need it today so here you go. tell me if you liked it!

The silence was peaceful, comfortable. Just two friends chilling together after hours of partying with your group. For you, at least. Oblivious as always. For Wally, the silence was almost painful, almost awkward, with how much he enjoyed spending his time with you, and wished you felt the same.

He nudged your shoulder with his.

“Earth to (Y/N), what're you thinking about?” He forced a chuckle out of his lips. Your head turned in his direction with slightly wide eyes. Wally never failed to be bothered when you seemed surprised that someone wanted to talk to you.

You laughed, half awkward, half batting the weird beginning of the interaction away, head shaking from side to side with your trembling shoulders. A smirk grew on the ginger’s lips, always amused at your adorable shyness. His lips tingled while he daydreamed about spreading butterfly kisses all over your neck and snuggling on the couch.

“Common, tell me! What are the bestest friends in the world for?” He poked the side of your soft waist, hiding the way he bit his bottom lip behind the smirk, freckled cheeks warming rose red whenever his finger dipped on your soft pudge.

You scoffed in good humour.

“Bestest friends?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms in false annoyance.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, who do you talk the most to here? Who's the better company? Me or those guys?” He pointed in false disdain at the Titans, sprawled around the living room with the other guests. You gave a genuine chuckle again.

“You're not much better, Wallace.” You teased, tilting your head, pretending to judge him from head to feet. Wally rolled his eyes, grumbling about being called by his name, before nudging you again.

“So? What's on your mind, princess?” You huffed at his question, not so much at the petname, you loved petnames.

“Forget it. I'm weird.” Wally frowned, despite his amused smile, head shaking.

“We’re at a Halloween party inside a T-shaped building, with a robot man, an alien, a demon girl and a green guy. And Dick, he's the weirdest here.” He threw an arm around your shoulders conspirationally, shifting to sit closer to you, thigh pressing against your own. “Common, tell me. I’m feeling like that Inside Out meme right now. Wondering what’s on your head. Are you thinking of candy? Are you drunk on soda? Are you planning on committing mass murder? Should’ve dressed as a slasher killer if that's the case. Betty Boop doesn't kill people.” He eyed your costume up and down, particularly appreciating the whole skimpy and iconic outfit.

For personal reasons.

The only difference was the gloves you always wore because of your powers, and always matched your clothes. Still, Betty Boop’s gold accessories were there, bracelets and rings over red gloves.

You nudged his torso back with your shoulder, laughing at his stupid antics, that are just so much like him.

“So…?” He prodded, and you sighed.

“I just… Feel different from other people, I guess.” You shrugged, arms crossed protectively around yourself. Wally leaned closer, slightly worried.

“How so?” He agrees with you, you are different from most people. Better, he thinks. Especially as you bite your red lips in nerves. Your lips…

You sigh, deflating like a tense balloon, sliding down the soft couch a few inches, before crossing your legs to avoid flashing someone with your dress. Wally's eyes travel briefly through their pillowy image and the thigh garter, before accessing how comfortable you look in this damn nice couch.

“It's just… Everyone here went through some things… Had certain e experiences… They’re so confident in themselves and their abilities. They don't… Hesitate, to step inside a room, or… Get close with someone.” You spoke slowly, as if analysing your worlds before exposing them to the world. Some people saw it as hesitation. Wally, as impulsive as he was, understood how your mind worked. It wasn't hesitation, it was observance. Especially when you felt like you had to give a genuine answer. You wanted it to be the most truthful version of it. And your words had to fit the part. You were a poet in the beautiful body of a super-hero.

“Hmm…” Getting close to someone? You didn't have to be afraid of getting close to him. “What do you mean? You went through some shit too. And you're a hell of a fighter. Your powers are cool as fuck. Kinda scary. But cool. And you know that.” Even if you don't like to use them, although that part was left in the air as everyone knew that.

You sighed, fists tightening.

“Yeah, but…” Realization crossed your face, and the next moment you were shaking your head. “Whatever, guess I’m just insecure.” You shrugged, going back to people-watching, making the ginger feel antsy at the distant and sad look on your face, as you watched your group. Your eyes lingering on Kory — dressed as Miss Sara Bellum from Powerpuff Girls —, dragging Dick — who was dressed as a Peaky Blinders’s member, along with Victor, Garfield and Wally himself — to the middle of the room, even though he went willingly, lovestruck smile permanent on his face, happy to indulge her as they started dancing, arms around each other, faces so close that could make everyone who wasn't used to them, feel like they're watching a private and intimate moment. And that's exactly why your eyes left them to roam around the room right away. Also ignoring Raven and Gar dressed as Johnny and Mavis from Hotel Transylvania, also talking in the corner.

Wally's heart ached.

“Hey… What do you really mean?” He whispers, quietly. Gaze never once leaving your face.

“... I feel like… Like I’ll never have what everyone has… It’s not my biggest problem, not really. Fuck, I’m good at my job, I have time for my hobbies, I have a nice group of friends, I cut my parents out completely, I live in a cool T-shaped building…” You snorted quietly, and Wally mirrored, despite the seriousness of the moment. He felt like you had something more to say, but silence overtook the conversation, and he chimed in.

“But you feel alone?”

You hummed quietly, nodding subtly.

“Sometimes. Yeah.” You rolled your eyes. “Maybe it's some form of fear of missing out?”

“Missing out on what?” He tilted his head, the fingers of his right hand over your other shoulder playing absentmindedly with the ends of your hair.

“On people.”

Wally frowned.

“How did the Loneliness Epidemic hit someone who lives with their friend group?” The corner of your mouth twitched up at his characteristic ironic tone.

“Yeah, until you all marry and have kids.”

“You can marry and have kids too…” With him, preferably. You shook your head.

“Can't.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I push people away ‘cause I'm afraid.”

“Afraid of what?!”

“Of- Of everything! My own parents didn't love me and used me. I’m afraid of rejection, and touch-starved, and no one’s into me enough for a relationship, and I don't try because I never even kissed someone! And the older I get, the worse it is.”

“You never kissed before?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, feeling stupid.

“I know, too old for that, right? I’m so afraid of disappointing.”

Wally shook his head vehemently.

“The right person won't care about that.”

“And the wrong person will like it too much.”

“Yeah…” Wally nodded slowly, seeing your logic. But of course, he was a genius, and he saw an opportunity. “I could teach you?” He smirked. You wanted to slap his stupid smug smirk off his face, if only you didn't find him handsome. Especially with that stupid slicked back hair, under that stupid hat, and that stupid suit and stupid coat he was wearing.

Stupid green eyes and stupid freckles.

“... You'd do that?” You blinked up at him. Wally wanted to kiss the space between your eyebrows.

“Hello?! Hell yeah. What are the bestest friends for?” He teased, squeezing you under his arm. You chuckled shyly with him, taken aback but trying to play it off.

“Okay then… Now?” you bit your lower lip, looking around nervously as if to see if someone could hear your conversation, even under the song. Wally softened, but he couldn't hold off his satisfaction completely, his heart was beating wildly inside his ribcage, cheeks and ears feeling hot as the sun. He reached for your gloves hand with his own clammy one, hoping you didn't notice the slight tremble.

“Let's go somewhere more private…” He spoke lowly. Wally hated to take his eyes off of you, but forced himself to allow your nervous self some mercy, eyes rolling ahead, ignoring the pumping in his ears.

Everyone was too entertained to notice your absence, as the tall ginger guided you to the elevator, where you avoided eye-contact as he weaved his fingers between yours and daydreamed about every line he could cross before you told him to stop, and about feeding you grapes at the edge of the pool right after.

As the bedroom door closed, you looked around languidly, quietly observing his space while Wally adjusted the lights. It wasn't your first time there, obviously. His room was nice, definitely not as messy as Garfield’s, and not as organized as Raven’s. There were no clothes thrown around, and surprisingly, no empty plates either, but his bed and table were always messy.

He had a mini fridge, because, well, it was Wally’s room, of course he’d have a mini fridge. And he had a large puff on the corner where everyone always competed to lay on, even though it easily fit two or three people, depending on their size. Sitting on his bed felt like too much for you at that moment, so of course you made your way over and sat down as comfortably as you could on the puff. It was awkward, with the silence, and the way your body sank down on the soft surface, your legs glued together, the mini dress not giving much space for comfort.

Wally didn't bat an eye and plopped down with you, manspreading enough for your tights to touch deliciously.

He waited, analysing your body language to know if he still had permission to keep going. It was jarring how fast the positions switched, as now you were the one bothered by the silence. Although he was still looking at you, and you wouldn't look at him.

Until you did.

“So… What should I do?” You placed your hands on your lap, sitting up as best as you could. Wally's eyes once again traveled across your lap, holding back the urge to lean down and kiss up your legs. At least, maybe he could finally touch your soft belly like he always wanted. His eyes met yours again, and he gave you an easy and reassuring smile.

“You just… First of all, take a deep breath.” You laughed quietly at his teasing, but obeyed anyway, feeling like your head was about to explode. Wally shifted closer, turning his body more to face you, you copied him. Your bodies weren't as close as he'd like with the position, but he'd fix that. “You… Just do what I do, I guess.” He shrugged, a smile never leaving his face. You looked so pretty under the colorful LED lights of his room, the shine of your makeup glinting in all the right places, your hair draped and curled like a cascade, and your sweet scent invading his senses.

You rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the mood, but mortified with fear of being a bad kisser and disappointing him to the point of always remembering you as his worst kiss ever.

Wally's hands met either side of your waist, firm yet delicate. His fingers seemed to bask in the softness of your love handles for a bit, before settling with using his thumbs to caress over your skirt. You couldn't remember if someone ever touched you like that, least of all in a context like this.

“What do I do with my hands?” You blurted out your worries, waiting for him to laugh on his easy, Wally way, but he was almost serious. Not the same way he got whenever you all discussed heavy cases, or when he was mad. It was… Intense, to say the least, to watch his heavy lidded eyes, even though he wouldn't stop gazing at you as if he was mesmerized, as if he wanted to do this for a while (he did), his body close enough to share warmth with yours. Wally just smiled weakly, took your gloved hands and placed them on either side of his neck.

“... Can I kiss you?” He murmured. You gulped, before nodding. Air escaped Wally's nostrils. “Need words, princess. I won't do it if you don't want me to.” A dark part of you almost felt disappointed at that, but for the most, you felt comforted.

“Y-You can do it.” You stammered, stiff as a board. “You can kiss me.” You hurried to say.

Wally hesitated for a moment, green orbs travelling over your face, so you tried to relax your shoulders and expression enough to reassure him that you were just nervous. Once he was satisfied, Wally raised a hand to rest on your cheek, and mumbled.

“Then close those wide deer eyes for me, Princess…” You almost didn't want to, but he took all your defenses down when he started caressing your cheek and waist with each hand.

A few moments in the dark passed, before his chapped lips met hours. The sensation was unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Maybe pecking was your favorite thing to do, at least with Wally.

He leaned back for a moment, then came back, before repeating that multiple times. Your mouth gradually and slowly adjusted to the right movement as he continuously kissed your petals, taking your time to get used to it. His hand ran from your face to the back of your head, tangling with the roots of your hair, as he tilted his face to deepen the kiss, prodding your mouth with his tongue, asking for entry, which you conceded.

It was a dance where you slowly learned the rhythm and steps, using all your focus and stumbling sometimes. You didn't even notice when his hands met your lower back and pulled you closer, as a lover would, not as friends. As if he actually wanted this intimacy with you.

As the minutes passed, you got all too familiar with the way Wally bounced from caressing your tongue and lips with his own tongue, and just pressed his lips against yours. Until he sucked on your bottom lip.

Pecking was your favourite thing? Scratch that. This was.

You held back a whimper, body relaxing and leaning against his, as large and calloused hands occupied themselves with feeling you up, like he was collecting his prize after being good for you.

After you found the way to sucking his lip, Wally rewarded you with a nibble. Before you could try to copy him, just as he let go of your lower lip, Wally languidly trailed generous kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, under your ear, down your neck, and over your collarbones.

Your head tilted to the side to give him space to play with you, breathing heavily, eyes begging to stay closed. Your gloved fingers ran up his neck in an attempt to make him feel good too, accidentally pushed his hat out of his head and sent it tumbling to the ground — not that any of you paid it any mind —, and tangled with his hair. He showed his appreciation with your touch by moaning lowly against the center of your chest. Or maybe he was just appreciating your neckline.

Wally's mouth trailed up your neck again, hands squeezing hips, dancing as low on your ass as the position allowed, before he opened his lips and sucked on your tender skin. The tingles hit so hard that a whimper finally escaped your throat, snapping Wally out of his hypnotic state momentarily, finally realizing how far kissing had gone.

You didn't seem to mind it, though.

As his left hand rounded your hips, passed over your belly and ran up and down your bare thigh, the ginger continued sucking a pretty collar around your sweet and elegant neck.

And if you went back to the party after this? Maybe everyone was too drunk to notice the hickeys and your dishevealed states.

And if you didn't come back at all?

Maybe he could actually feed you those grapes after all, while snuggling with you on his puff, after kissing up your thighs.