#innocent!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.”

To make things worse, in the middle of the hot day the air conditioner decided to randomly shut down and stopped working. When you attempted to open all the windows, it only circulated the heated air back through the room, offering no refuge or comfort. You tried calling repair technicians, but their prices were unreasonably high—practically a rip off, and none of them could come on short notice, which meant there was only one choice left.

You bit your lower lip while staring at the telephone, contemplating if this was a good idea or not, though the idea of having to suffer one more second and possibly putting yourself at risk for a heat stroke had you picking up the phone, dialing Steve’s number.

On the second ring he picked up. “Hello?” He said, the caller unknown to him.

You breathed shakily, “h-hey Steve, it’s me—the girl next door. The one that brought you cookies the other day, if you remember…” you instantly wanted to slap yourself, who else could it be.

“Oh!” Steve responded, familiarity seeping into his voice. “How could I forget? I was meaning to tell you they were amazing, thank you sweetheart.”

You felt your face go hot, and it wasn’t from the heat. “You’re welcome.” You rushed out. “I don’t want to bother you, but I’m kind of in a situation.” You started.

“What’s going on?” You could instantly hear the concern in his tone, imagining the cute furrow of his brows.

“It’s just—my air conditioner broke, and I kind of need some help.” You weighed your words, fearing his reaction.

“Awh, you poor thing.” Steve spoke low. “You must feel so hot,” the word came out sharply, sending a spark through you. “I really don’t mind coming over and taking a look at it.”

You lit up, a smile overtaking your features at his kindness. “Really?” You exclaimed.

“Of course.” He laughed lightly. “I’ll come right now—so we can get it fixed up as soon as possible.”

You quickly agreed, and in only five minutes Steve was already at your door, knocking loudly. You raced to it, a hand kept behind your back as you swung it open with a smile on your face. He was dressed similarly for the weather, a wife beater that hugged his shoulders and showed the beginnings of his chest hair peaking out.

“Thank you for coming over, really!” You said profusely, as Steve gave you a once over, visibly swallowing at how little there was to imagine from all the skin showing.

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” He said with a grin, letting himself in. You led him towards the ac unit in the back, and Steve placed his hands on his hips, observing it carefully.

You stood behind him as he took the lid off, searching for the root of the problem. You tried not to let your eyes linger on the way his back muscles flexed with each movement, accentuating his fit figure.

“Looks like I found the issue.” He called out, snapping you out of your daydreaming. Your head perked up, coming a little closer.

“The air filter is clogged—meaning all the dust and whatnot got trapped inside.” Steve explained, turning back towards you. “I can clean it out with a vacuum, it’s good you called me and not some know it all who would’ve charged you double.” He smiled.

“So I’m in good hands?” You rechecked, staring up at him through your lashes.

“Always, sweetheart.” He winked playfully. You nodded gratefully, and retreated to bring all the tools he needed. Steve couldn’t help but watch how you swung your hips as you walked, having no idea about the things you do to him.

He started working while you watched him closely, though secretly he was taking his sweet time—being around you was intoxicating, and Steve was addicted. After a couple of minutes, you silently gasped as you realized he was probably suffering just as much as you were—and you disappeared without a warning to make him a small treat.

You stood in the kitchen, squeezing fresh lemons and pouring handfuls of ice into a glass pitcher, the sharp citrus scent filling the air. A final pinch of sugar dissolved into the pale yellow liquid, condensation already gathering along the cool glass—a stark contrast to the hot atmosphere. Just looking at it caused your mouth to water, it was bound to count as a token of appreciation for Steve.

You filled up another glass to the brim as you brought it up, noticing how sweat gathered at Steve’s hairline and the pink glow that took over his face.

He craned his neck back, mouth parting when he finally saw you again. “Oh you angel—” he groaned dramatically. “That’s exactly what I need!”

You giggled softly while extending him the cup, his rough fingers touching yours momentarily as he took it. Wasting no time, Steve tilted his head back and downed the cool drink, Adam’s apple bobbing as he consumed it greedily.

“I think you should just make me everything at this point.” He panted, wiping his sticky mouth with the back of his hand.

“Well you’re the one doing the hard work.” You said pointedly, and he shrugged.

“Nothing I wouldn’t already do for you.” Steve said, and you tried not to let your mind wander at what he meant.

Unfortunately, Steve finished sooner than you wanted expected, and you were trying to think of more ways to prolong his exit.

“Well, sweet girl—if that’s all, I’ll leave you be.” He sighed, wiping his hands on a washcloth.

You nodded, “I don’t know how thank you enough for this Steve. You’re a life saver,” you said honestly while leading him back to your door.

A subtle smirk worked its way onto his face, trailing his eyes all over you. “I can think of a way you can thank me, angel.” He dragged out dangerously, though you were unaware of his true intentions.

“What’s that?” You eagerly spoke up, eyes wide and awaiting—Steve couldn’t resist himself at how submissive you looked, ready to do anything to please him.

Slowly, he took a step closer, until you were inches apart. He laid a hand over your waist—you froze at the action, and he closed off the remaining distance with a gentle kiss against your pink lips.

It made you breathless in the best possible way, you practically melted into it, kissing back before you could come to the realization it was your neighbor’s lips who was on yours. Steve depended the kiss into something unforgettable, pulling you flush against his chest as your face tilted up even higher, his tongue slipping into your mouth and coaxing out a moan.

It ended all too soon, Steve pulling away before you could roam your hands all over him, wanting to feel more.

you and rafe were inseparable.

still are.

since the early age of four in he’s been following you around like a lost puppy. constantly trying to get your attention, the poor boy. you often saw his constant need and struggle for someone to just care for him as an affect of his asshole of a father mainly bringing him up.

your parents just somehow managed to strengthen your bond with him by becoming closer to one another themselves. during your childhood and with rafe, your parents obviously drifted closer by spending practically every weekend together. of course they would, naturally. both your mother and his step mother, rose, are wealthy, snobby women of the upper side in the outer banks. and your fathers? please. they could be brothers.

ward cameron, business fiend and dickhead supreme, clearly is best suited to become bourbon drinking buddies with your father. every tuesday, thursday and saturday without a doubt your father is “invited” over to the cameron household. therefore meaning you and your mother have to come too.

now after years of these years and many similar nights, you don’t mind. i mean, you are visiting your little rafe…

knock knock knock

“darling i’m sure ward will love your bourbon you brought don’t worry dear” standing on the cameron manor porch, your mother attempts to reassure and calm your father by pressing a haste kiss to his stubbly cheek. smoothing down his suit, she shuffles backwards as he scoffs and glares at her.

“why wouldn’t he maria?! it’s bourbon from fucking germany, the best bourbon making country in the goddamn world.” father sighs, agitated once again. muttering something about her being a stupid woman. you stand there, behind them both. watching mother, her long, recently blown out hair floating in the wind, revealing the open back of her pastel blue sundress. and watching father too. his broad shoulders filling most of the imposing cameron manor front door’s frame. his grey suit reflecting him beautifully. bland and fucking boring. your hands start twisting with your silver bracelets and small golden rings as you try to become invisible. as you try to keep out of your parents fraying marriage and their ongoing petty arguments once again.

the door swings open.

rose cameron stands there, rafes step mother. her short blonde hair is recently bleached and shoved behind her ears. flaunting her iridescent mauve jumpsuit and boisterous, awfully chunky gold necklace. she paints a firm smile onto her matching mauve lips and pushes her hair even further behind her ears. the glow of the metal of the bangles on her wrist catch the setting evening sun and flash into your eyes, blinding you for a second.

“maria! damien! welcome!” she reaches forward and pecks your mother’s cheeks swiftly, peering over her shoulder at you in slight disgust. “i see you all made it fine! me and ward were awfully worried about the god awful weather in paris stopping you from flying home from france… he would be horrified if he missed his bourbon drinking date” rose smiles, her cheeks plastered with foundation, rising like cakes being baked. “oh silly me- come in come in! we have so much to talk about maria.. i mean we have to plan midsummers and the food and outfits- oh and damien, you know where ward is” she lets out a sharp chuckle and beams brightly. rose doesn’t even bother you a second glance as she ushers your parents inside, leaving you standing on the porch. the soft breeze playing with your hair.

what a bitch.. you sigh, your shoulders drooping. rafe must be upstairs like always.

you slide into the manor. quiet, invisible one again. pressing the grand double doors shut and starting to trail up the winding staircase.

after a moment climbing up the spiralling stairs and scurrying across the landing, you stop outside rafe’s door.

knock knock knock

“rafey? it’s me?” you murmur to the door, praying he’s inside.

a moment.

the door pulls open.

inside? stands rafe, low slung grey sweatpants, gold chain around his neck, red bull can in hand.

his room? you peek inside, well you try to. it’s mostly dark. all his blinds are shut, and the only light, apart from the glow of his flatscreen tv opposite his bed is crawling underneath his curtains. the hum of some faint song by someone like chase atlantic or the weeknd dances around the room and the faint smell of weed and aftershave wraps around you, embracing you into a warm, familiar hug.

“doll- i- hey” he smirks, before snatching your wrist and pulling you into his den.

he plops onto the crimson velvet couch at the end of his king size bed before drawing a blunt out of his pocket and dropping his empty red bull can onto the floor with a clatter.

holding the not lit blunt in his teeth, he grabs one of the stray hoodies laying on his floor before pulling it over his head. he flickers his lighter, pulled from his pocket and lights the blunt. takes an inhale and blows out a small cloud of smoke. “cmon bun” grinning ear to ear, he pats his thigh “sit, you know i don’t bite”

you giggle, a sweet melodic tune that dances throughout rafe’s brain.

fuckk…. he thinks..

he drags a rough hand over his face, making some attempt to clean his impure brain of the image of you on your knees in between his thighs with his thick cock wrapped around your pretty pink lips.

you toe off your polished black mary jane’s, leaving them by his bedroom door before pushing it shut quietly. you scuttle over, slipping and sliding all over his recently waxed hardwood floor with your pale pink frilly socks covering your small feet.

he smirks again.. this sweet, sweet girl.

“hi rafey” you murmur whilst you plop onto his lap with a faint thud.

“miss’d you bunny” he immediately lets his hands wander over your waist and he pulls you up so you’re laying back onto his chest as he grabs his playstation controller before starting to play his game. some fighting game no doubt.

“me too rafey..” you coo “im sorry i went away for so long.. france was boring, mom just wanted to drink and dad just wanted to scream at her..im here now though” you say before offering him a weak smile.

“oh bun.. they still rocky?” he hums, pressing you into his side more.

“mhm..i- uh- heard them yelling over some papers the other night too when i was trying to sleep.. its all going wrong rafey i’ve wanted to speak to you for ages but-” you mumble, turning your head so you can bury your lightly dolled up face into his bare bicep.

“oh pretty..” he sighs, stroking your hair like a puppy’s soft fur coat “it’ll be for the best if they divorce hm? yeah?”

“yeah.. you’re right.. i mean at least i might be able to at least sleep then? right?” trying to laugh at your own joke, you press your face further into his arm, turning slightly more so you can lay on his chest better.

“mh yeah good girl.. you can move in with me too if you want when i get my own place later this year hm? jus’ us two in a big house while i finish college yeah?”

“yeah.. uh- i’d like that… yeah..” you whimper. a tear. two tears. three. four. a stream. a river.

“shi- no no bunny don’t cry.. shh… sh..”

sobbing, you grasp his neck and cry softly into his shoulder.

blubbering uselessly, you try to form some coherent thought “b-but- m…m-my d-dad-d-daddy! n-no l…li-like me”

“don’t stress bun.. yeah? fuck your dad. that’s what i say.” he cradles your head, his golden rings that adorn each finger glint in the glow of his tv and his fingers rake through your hair, the playstation controller forgotten. “i can be your daddy for all you care bun.. let rafey care for you.. let me help you.. please pretty girl” he whines pathetically.

you nod mindlessly whilst continuing to whimper and sniffle into his chest.

you don’t even notice he’s manage to hike your baby pink floral print sundress dress up to your waist until his thick golden brown fingers dance along your inner thigh, trickling into your panties quietly.

“shh.. rafe’s got you bun.. focus on me hm?” you can almost hear the smugness melting off his tongue and into his speech, bastard.

you look down at your thighs, expecting to just see his hand squeezing and kneading the flesh. oh-! shit. when did he take my underwear off-.

a pinch, a stoke of your little nub. “r-rafe!”

“you like tha’ hm? shh.. shh.. dry those eyes babygirl.. no crying for rafe”

a finger.. or is it three? press inside of you suddenly.

“mh!” you whine like a needy puppy, for a different reason this time. not crying over your stupid parents, but your best friend.

“sh.” he hisses “keep quiet now, wouldn’t want mommy and daddy to find out their precious girl is being finger fucked by her best friend now would we?”

you shake your head, frantic. “n-no…”

“good girl.. open wide for rafe now” he taps your sealed lips with his cum slicked index and middle finger before forcing your soaked through pink lace panties into your waiting mouth. his fingers slide back down to your puffy folds and little hole, that’s currently clenching on air. trailing his middle finger down from your clit, he thrusts it in. the contrast of the cool metal of the ring on his finger and the warmness of your walls making you sharply inhale.

squelch squelch squelch

the wet, grotesque squelching sounds of his sound fingers thrusting into you and spreading your wetness around your folds fill the air.

another finger presses into your hole. roughly curling around the point, that fills your vision with stars and black, he found so well. so quickly.

eyes rolling back, you buck your hips, frantic. humping his hand, you groan. silently begging and pleading for permission to come.

“nuh uh, too soon bun.. i’ve not even got my cock out yet and you want to squirt all over my fingers?” he scoffs “pathetic slut” he spits at you, and a firm slap is delivered meanly to your pulsing folds making you jump.

suddenly, you’re not on his lap. you’re bent over the arm of the crimson couch, the plush velvet digging into your knees as rafe rams his mean cock into your folds from behind.

“uh-mh-mm!” you whine and squirm, pleading for more friction.

“if i knew you were this much of a slut my dick wouldn’t have left this tight cunt in years…” he pants, breathing heavily. “take it- mh.. some best friend you are” he chuckles as he bullies his cock into you, the angry red tip prodding your cervix, inching you closer to your orgasm every thrust. his balls burying into the curve of your plump ass. “oh bun- she’s just swallowing me whole.. greedy hole gripping my cock so well, taking rafey so well hm?”

despite his roughness, rafe continues to stroke your hair somehow comfortingly, tugging every few moments as the odd ring on his finger gets stuck in your locks.

“see bun? it’s okay, you’ve got me, fuck your parents yeah? jus’ need- m..me… rafe” he groans as he gets closer to his climax.

“god i’ve been waiting to do this for years..” he murmurs as he leans down to nibble your shoulder as he continues to ram into you unrelentingly, the wet sounds now more violent and vicious.

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 roll your eyes, take the cup, and swish the liquid around. “What’s in these?”

He shrugs, taking a slow swig of his. “Just beer. There are shots too,” he adds, a smirk curling on his lips, “if you can handle it.”

“I can.”

You bring the cup to your lips. His eyes never leave yours as you tilt your head back and chug it down. It burns—sharp and bitter—and you fight the urge to make a face as the liquid slides down your throat.

He notices anyway.

The way your face scrunches into a tight grimace. The slight watering of your eyes. The hesitation you try to hide. He knew you were inexperienced—but this?

You set the cup down with a soft thud. “That was disgusting,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Your head spins a little more now, the alcohol settling in quickly. You’ve drunk before—but never like this. Never in a place this loud, this crowded… this overwhelming.

And never with someone like him watching you so closely.

Up close, you notice things you hadn’t before.

The faint shadows beneath his eyes—dark, heavy, like sleep is something he rarely allows himself. The subtle red lining them, likely from smoke and exhaustion. His gaze is lidded, almost lazy, but there’s something sharp underneath it.

Something that doesn’t miss anything.

His thumb presses to your waist again, grounding you. "Still think you can keep up?" he murmurs, voice quieter now.

You nod.

"I know I can."

At that, he lets out a deep chuckle. "Angel, you're literally high off second-hand smoke and drunk off half a cup of beer," he teases. "I don't think you can."

He rubs slow circles on your waist, studying your face. You were deep in thought. You knew this would be a losing game, after all, you don't drink or smoke. This is his scene. His fortitude. Not yours. Trying to beat him at his own game is almost a hundred percent guaranteed loss. But something about this moment—how close he is, his hands on your waist, the intoxicating smell of weed and beer surrounding him, and the way his presence makes the party seem so much less overwhelming, makes you want to continue this silly game.

And you did—or well, you tried to.

Until you ended up on a couch somewhere, straddling his lap, cold night air prickling your skin, not even remembering how you got there. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, lazily playing with his hair as you slump forward, resting your chin on his shoulder. He's holding a blunt in one hand, bringing it to his lips, and taking a long inhale of it. His other hand is on your thigh, thumb rubbing lazy circles.

He squeezes your thigh gently and nudges you with his shoulder. You lift your head, blinking at him, expression dazed. Your eyes are hazy, unfocused—his are too, but there's something more grounded in them. More controlled.

He can't help but chuckle, giving your thigh a firm squeeze and sliding his hand up from your thigh to your waist. His hand eventually settles on your jaw, pressing his thumb to your swollen lips.

"Still trying to prove something?" he murmurs, steadying you with his other hand when you sway slightly.

You frown, trying to focus your eyes. "I can," you slur out.

He takes another drag of the blunt between his fingers. He exhales slowly, the smoke drifting between you.

You hesitate for half a second. Then lean in, breathing it in with a long inhale.

“Careful,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t stop you. He tilts his head back, releasing the rest of the smoke up into the air, and letting his head lie on the backrest of the couch.

His hand slides back down to your waist, squeezing lightly as you sink against him, your head resting on his chest.

His breath hitches just slightly.

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer, his other hand coming up to your head. His fingers move through your hair, slower now, more deliberate than before.

You close your eyes, pressing further into him. “I’m tired,” you mumble. Your words come out soft, slurred. Your breathing shifts—uneven, shallow. The room still spins, your vision hazy and unfocused. The noise of the party feels far away now, like it’s happening somewhere else entirely.

At this point… you just want to go home.

But you can’t.

You can barely think straight—hell, you can barely stand.

Choso goes still beneath you.

For the first time that night, he doesn’t have anything to say.

His hand pauses in your hair as he lifts his head, eyes focusing on you, really focusing now. His pupils are blown, but there’s a sharpness behind them, something alert.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

You don’t respond. Your arms loosen around his neck.

His jaw tightens.

“Damn it,” he mutters, flicking the blunt off to the side.

One hand steadies at your waist while the other brushes your hair back from your face, his thumb lingering briefly against your cheek. He exhales slowly, glancing around like he’s already thinking three steps ahead.

“Tch… shouldn’t have let you keep going,” he says under his breath.

You hum softly against his chest, barely conscious now.

He sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek once more.

“Let’s go, angel.”

Carefully, he shifts you, easing you off his lap and onto the couch for just a second.

“Mmm… where are we going?” you mumble.

“My room,” he replies. Then he leans down, sliding one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, lifting you with surprising ease. “Hold on.”

You barely register it, arms slipping around his neck as you instinctively pull closer. He adjusts his grip immediately, holding you a little tighter as he starts walking.

"Hold on," he says, quieter this time as he carries you inside the house.

For as many people as there were at that party, he didn’t expect everyone to turn and look.

But they do.

Music still blares, people still move—but there’s a noticeable shift. Heads turn. Conversations pause. Eyes follow him as he walks through the house with you in his arms. His frat brothers stare, some amused, some surprised. One of them stumbles over, a crooked grin on his face.

“Hey, man,” he slurs, patting Choso’s shoulder. “What’re you gonna do with the lightweight?”

Choso doesn’t stop walking.

Doesn’t even look at him.

“Move,” he says flatly.

The guy laughs like it’s a joke, stepping in front of him anyway. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re cutting the night short—”

Choso’s grip tightens slightly around you. “Move,” he repeats, voice lower this time.

The guy pauses, grin faltering just a bit before he lifts his hands in surrender, stepping out of the way. “Alright, alright… damn.”

Choso walks past without another word.

You shift faintly in his arms, your head pressing further into his chest. He glances down at you briefly, his expression tightening for just a second before smoothing out again.

The noise downstairs fades as he heads up the stairs, each step steady despite the chaos still buzzing through the house. When he reaches the hallway, it’s quieter. Dimmer. Away from everything.

He exhales slowly.

“Almost there,” he mutters, more to you than himself.

He heads toward his room at the end of the hallway, looking down at you and frowning every few steps.

"Is it even appropriate for me to take her to my room when she's like this?" he thought to himself.

He shakes his head. Of course, it was appropriate; you didn't have any option other than calling a cab, which would've been dangerous. But yet, he can't help feeling guilty for having to take you upstairs in the first place. It could've been avoided if he had just said no to your challenge, knowing you were a lightweight.

He nudges the door open with his foot, a soft creak breaking the quiet.

He carries you inside, long strides taking him to the bed before he carefully lowers you onto it.

You barely stir. Your eyes stay closed, lips parted slightly as you breathe unevenly, still caught somewhere between sleep and awareness.

Choso stands there for a second just looking at you. Then he exhales, crouching down, gently slipping off your shoes, and setting them aside. The small, careful movements feel out of place compared to the chaos downstairs. He moves to his mini-fridge, grabs a bottle of water, then reaches to his nightstand, pulling out a couple of pills.

When he comes back, he hesitates for half a second.

“Hey,” he says, softer now.

No response.

He sighs, setting the water and pills on the nightstand instead.

“Figured.”

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing away before looking back at you again. Then he reaches for the blanket, pulling it over you and adjusting it so you’re actually covered. His hand lingers for a second on your shoulder.

There’s a pause.

He straightens, taking a step back.

But then stops.

His gaze flicks back to you.

“I’ll stay,” he says quietly, more to himself than anything. He grabs a chair, dragging it closer to the bed before sitting down. He leans back in the chair, eyes still on you long after he should’ve looked away.

“You’re gonna hate tomorrow,” he mutters.

a/n: what do we think of protective and caring choso?

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