only angelsâ have wings
tw. trailer park princess! reader x soldier boy. alcohol use. pillow humping. age gap. reader is of age. southern aesthetic. icky ben! loss of virginity (r). p in v. cowgirl position. creampie. pet names (baby, honey, dolly, sweetheart.) sex under the influence. title from only angels have wings - nicole dollanganger.
the trailer park squatted at the edge of town like a stray dog too tired to bite. rust-buckled trailers leaned crooked beneath a bruised southern sky, porches sagging under ashtrays and dead plants and old men too drunk to remember what year it was. weeds swallowed fence posts whole, cicadas screamed loud enough to drown out the highway. every evening smelled like wet dirt, gasoline and somebody frying meat in reused grease.
dirty and sometimes too rough, but the only home youâve ever known.
you lived in lot seventeen with your mamaâs old floral curtains still hanging in the windows and a busted washing machine sitting permanently in the yard like lawn decor.
and three trailers down in lot twenty, lived ben.
nobody called him soldier boy around here. not unless they were stupid. to everyone he was just ben- the broad-shouldered veteran with mirrored aviators, cigarettes tucked into the sleeve of his white T-shirt and enough violence simmering under his skin to make stray dogs avoid his porch.
heâd arrived six months ago in a black pickup with new york plates and a duffel bag that looked heavy enough to carry bodies. folks whispered, said he killed a man in pure rage. said the government was after him. said he wasnât right in the head.
you mostly noticed how lonely he looked.
sometimes late at night youâd see him sitting shirtless on his trailer steps under the jaundiced porchlight, smoke curling around him while old songs from before your time crackled from a radio inside. almost like he was waiting for something that would never come back.
one afternoon he caught you snooping out the window, your fingers gently folding the curtains back and he smiled. whistled and held up his lit joint like an offering, frowned when you cowered back inside with wild thoughts and a pillow between your legs, pink panty clad pussy grinding against the plush while thinking about him.
the first time he spoke to you, you nearly dropped your groceries.
you froze halfway up your porch steps, clutching a paper sack full of canned beans and bread. ben leaned against the railing of his trailer porch, beer bottle dangling from two fingers.
âyaâ got a second?â
you glanced around like maybe he meant somebody else but there was nobody else.
your cheeks went hot as you crossed the dirt path between the trailers slowly, flip-flops crunching over gravel. up close he smelled like old Spice and cigarette smoke and something metallic underneath. blood maybe. or motor oil.
ben looked you over in that lazy dangerous way older men did around town sometimes- except somehow meaner and softer all at once.
âyou livinâ at seventeen, right?â
he tilted an empty beer bottle toward you.
you stomach fluttered nervously, what could ben possibly need from you?
âthe gas station down the road. he reached into his pockets pulling out crumpled bills. âneedâa beer.â
you blinked, boots nervously scuffing against the dusty road. âthey wonât sell it to meâŠâ
âsure they will.â he held the money out. âyaâ got one of those faces.â
âwhatâs that suppose to mean?â
âinnocent, young. just flash em a bit a cleavageâ theyâll serve ya.â he said it like it amused him, no hesitation at how inappropriate his words may be.
mama always warned you about men like ben. men with charm sharpened into weapons. men who smiled like theyâd already survived the electric chair once before. you shouldâve said no. its inappropriate and illegal.
but youâd been lonely yourself for so long that sometimes loneliness made bad ideas feel holy.
the corner store sat beside an abandoned car wash twenty minutes away on foot. neon faulty beer signs buzzed in the windows. old men crowded around scratch cards whistling when you walked past, cleavage on show just like ben had said.
you bought the cheapest six-pack they had and the cashier barely looked you in the eye. on the way back you didnât pull your top back into place, you wanted ben to see what you did just for him.
âtook your sweet time.â he called.
you held up the plastic bag. âthey only had warm ones..â
he stood and took the bag from your hand. his bruised knuckle velvet fingers brushed yours, eyes trailing down your body, lingering at your chest.
he pulled a beer free and cracked it open against the railing, liquid sputtering down his fingers.
âIâm not really supposed to drink..â
he barked a laugh. âjesus, kid.â then he looked at you again, slower this time. âi aintâ gonna ask again.â
you shouldâve walked home then. instead you made your way up his steps, boots clanking against the wood taking a seat next to ben.
ben laughed when you coughed after the first sip.
not a mean laugh. low and rough and surprised, like he hadnât expected anything genuinely sweet all week.
âeasy there, sweetheart.â he leaned back in the rusted lawn chair, boots kicked up on the porch railing. âbeer ainâtâ supposed to be fought hand-to-hand.â
you wiped your mouth quickly, embarrassed. the can felt ice-cold in your hands, condensation dripping over your chipped polished nails.
the bitterness made your face scrunch up. ben smirked around his cigarette.
âjesusâ ya really never drank before?â
ânot even at parties?â
âi- i donât really get invited placesâŠâ
the words slipped out before you meant them to. bens expression shifted into something- not pity but worse somehow. like he understood too well.
you shrugged staring into the can. âpeople around here think Iâm.. weird.â
âmama says Iâm too soft.â
ben huffed smoke into the humid night air. âyaâ mamaâs probably right.â
you glanced at him, fingers tight around the metal.
âbutâ he added, âainât the worst thing to be.â
the beer made everything warmer after a while. your cheeks tingled. your limbs felt floaty and loose, porchlight glowing syrupy gold around the edges.
ben watched you carefully.
you giggled unexpectedly at the seriousness in his voice. âthink my headâs fuzzy.â
he stood then, broad and imposing even in the dim light and crushed his cigarette beneath his boot.
you blinked up at him, âwhere?â
âinside. before mosquitoes carry you off.â
bens hand closed around your elbow as you stood before you could stumble. the touch sent a strange nervous flutter through your chest.
âtsk. yaâ lightweight.â he muttered.
âsâ alright, sweetie.â
the rusted door of the double-wide groaned as ben pulled it open, the stale scent of cheap beer and unwashed denim washing out into the humid evening. the inside was dim, a single yellow lamp casting long shadows over a sagging couch, empty bottles scattered. He kicked the door shut behind you, the latch clicking loud in the sudden silence.
his eyes narrowed, hands still holding on your hips as you looked up at him nervously.
âyknow why i invited you here, dont you smart girl?â he mumbled.
you nodded breathe heavy lingering with his.
âb-because you want me⊠and i want you..â you whispered.
âthats right. ya gonnaâ let me pop that cherry right here on my couch.â he let go of your chin and stepped back, pussy fluttering at his words.
your hands shook as you fumbled with the buttons of your blouse from the excitement that ben could actually like someone like you. he watched patient as a cat, his eyes tracing every inch of skin you revealed- your collarbone, the curve of your breasts in their cotton bra, the trembling line of your belly as you pushed your shorts down your thighs. when you stood before him in nothing but panties and bra he let out a low whistle.
âsweetâ jesus.â he muttered, his hand moving to the front of his jeans, palming the obvious bulge straining the denim. âturn around let me see that peach.â
you obeyed turning slowly, your hands clasped behind your back. his palm landed flat on your bare hip then slid down, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass cheek. he squeezed hard enough to make you gasp
âperfect body, honey.â he breathed. ânow get on the couch for me okay?â
you climbed onto the worn cushion, knees sinking into the ancient foam as you faced him. he unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, watching your tongue peeking out between your lips like a puppy to a bone. He didnât bother pulling his jeans off- just shoved them down enough to free his cock. springing up thick and heavy, the head flushed with a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip.
âthis is whatâs gonna fill that tight little cunt.â. he said, wrapping his fist around the shaft, giving it a slow stroke.
âi-its big..â you mumbled innocently.
âthats okay honey, feel better snugged in that little hole.â he settled onto the couch, back against the armrest and pulled you onto his lap. your thighs straddled his hips, the rough denim of his jeans rasping against your sensitive inner thighs. his cock pressed against your belly hot and hard. he reached between you hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tore them off with one sharp tug.
âno need for those..â he grunted tossing them aside.
his hand slid down, fingers finding your pussy. they were rough and calloused, knowing exactly where to press. he circled your clit with his thumb, laughing as some of your juices sputtered onto his hand.
âlook at you..â he murmured, his eyes dark and hungry. âso wet already. you were made for this werenât you? made to take my cock.â
you whined deep in your throat, hands digging into his shoulders. âmmmf- mhm.â
he lined himself up, the fat head of his cock nudging your slick folds. you felt the pressure, the stretch and you braced yourself.
âready, dolly? say ya want it.â
âi want it.â you whispered, voice trembling but sure.
he smiled and then he thrust up. the pain was sharp, a burning stretch that stole your breath. you whined out, your nails digging into his skin. he held your hips stilling you, letting you adjust.
âshh.. take it slow.â he said with a voice surprisingly gentle. âfirst time always hurts.â
you nodded tears pricking your eyes. he stayed still with just the tip buried inside you until you relaxed. then he slid deeper inch by inch until he was fully seated, his balls pressed against your ass.
âfuck- yeah..â he groaned, his eyes half-closed. âfeel that? your so tight. so fuckinâ tight.â
he gave you a moment to breathe then he began to moveâa slow deep grind that rocked your whole body. his hands found your hips, guiding you into a rhythm. up and down, your pussy gripping him sliding down his length. each stroke sent fresh waves of sensation through your core, the pain melting into a deep aching pleasure.
âthaaats it..â he encouraged. âride me. show me what you got.â
you found your pace, your body moving instinctively, your breasts bouncing in front of his face. he leaned forward taking one nipple into his mouth sucking hard, his beard grazing the sensitive peak. you moaned with your hips moving faster, the friction building into something urgent desperate.
âi-im close i think..! you gasped though you barely understood what that meant.
âgood job dolly- cream on my dick..â
his thumb found your clit again rubbing in tight circles and that was it. the orgasm crashed over you like a wave your whole body tensing, your pussy clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. he groaned his hips thrusting up chasing your pussy burying himself deep as he spilled inside you hot, thick filling you up.
you collapsed against his chest, breathless your skin slick with sweat. he wrapped an arm around you holding you there, his cock still twitching inside you.
âgood job, honey. did so good just fâme.â.
âj-just for you ben..â you mumbled breathlessly and full, letting yourself sink into his warmth.
