#m's fanfics

[liege-of-the-bees]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Riverdale (TV 2017) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jughead Jones/Tabitha Tate, Tabitha Tate & Toni Topaz Characters: Tabitha Tate, Jughead Jones, Toni Topaz Additional Tags: Riverdale (TV) Season 7, Tabitha Tate-Centric, Tabitha Tate Needs A Hug, Canon Speculation, Could Be Canon, But Probably Won't Be, Angst, The Inherent Horror of Mid-Century Americana, Time Travel, Multiverse, Set in S7e8, Guardian Angel Tabitha Tate, Unreliable Narrator, Sort Of, She Just Has a Lot of Emotions Summary:

Their 1950s counterparts were created by her sending them back in time.

So why were there two Tabithas?

(Spoiler alert: There isn't.)

(AKA: Tabitha Tate comes to visit Riverdale)

[prael]

Cleaning Service

Kinktember Day 2: Maid Play

Aespa Karina x male reader smut

words: 4,000 Kinktember Masterlist

"Hey, babe?" You poke your head from the door of your home office. "What's with all the noise?"

Karina is hooking her head around the corner at the end of the hallway and calls back to you, "Noise? Oh, whoops! I was just sweeping the floor and dropped the brush. Sorry, sir."

"Sir?" you question under your breath as she disappears around the corner. "Whatever..." You retreat into the office once again, plopping down onto the comfy computer chair. You turn your focus back to the work documents in front of you. This lasts for all of two minutes before you hear a loud thumping noise once again from somewhere in the apartment.

You leave your chair, cross the room, and open the door, poking your head out in confusion once more. "Karina?" There is no reply. The hallway is quiet. The doors to the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are all closed. You take a step into the hall and you're greeted by the loud scraping of furniture on the floor from the living and dining room at the far end.

You advance towards the corner in apprehension, calling out again, "Karina? What's going on?"

She is half over the dining table and looking over her shoulder. "I'm still cleaning, sir. Sorry if I'm loud. I have been told that I'm too loud with everything I do." There's a lilt in her voice on those last words. Between that and her choice of dress, it is hard not to have your mind in the gutter.

"What the hell are you wearing?" You probably intended to ask that in your own head but you couldn't help but blurt it out. In reality, it's very clear what she is wearing, the better question would have been why is she wearing it, but it's too late for that.

"Sir, this is standard dress for a maid. I am the maid you hired after all. I'm here to give your big, long... hallway a long, hard, deep clean, right after I finish here in the dining room."

At this point, you haven't made eye contact for a single second of the conversation, too drawn to how her skirt is so short that not only can you see her panties, but you can see the bare skin of her lower back above them as she bends. Your gaze wanders down the backs of her tasty thighs and the gap between them.

Karina speaks again after a soft laugh at how you seem to be stunned, "Perhaps you would like to watch me work? Make sure that I don't miss a spot and get into all these... tight spaces?"

"Karina... I have work. I have to finish this paperwork..." you respond half-heartedly.

"Okay sir, if you don't want to watch, I can just keep working on my own." As you lean back on the wall by the corner, thinking, she bends forward, so that her ass rises into the air. "I promise not to make too much noise."

Working is a fool's errand, every time you hear something outside your office, you're reminded of what Karina is up to—of her ridiculous outfit. You want to watch her. There isn't enough blood in your brain for you to think clearly. And then the door opens. Brush in hand, Karina steps into the office and bends over to run the bristles across the floor in long sweeping strokes. It is impossible not to notice the slight sway in her hips.

You look away, turn, and focus back on your work. For a brief second, anyway. Her long and slightly wavy black hair hangs in front of her shoulder as she bends over to sweep, between the locks, the white low-cut lace frills of her outfit struggle to contain her chest. It's fitted so tight that they spill over, each sweep of her arms threatening to push them free.

You can't help it anymore. You steer into the skid and fuel the roleplay. "I expect every inch of this place swept, cleaned, and shined. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir, the place has to be clean, really clean. I am here to serve you to the best of my abilities."

"Clean this desk," you instruct simply, returning to your computer screen with a smug smirk, as though you are oblivious to the real intent of your words. You aren't really oblivious to it—you're relishing it. She is likely doing the same thing, of course. This is her plan. Her choice of outfit—from the black and white dress down to the choker on her neck has an intention behind it, and there's no point pretending that she isn't trying to seduce you.

She steps over next to you, duster in hand, and with exaggeratedly graceful gestures she dusts down the desk you work at. She reaches over you, to the far side, instead of walking around, this way she can push her chest right into your face. In between writing lines in an email, you check out the cleavage just inches from you. You breathe a gentle warm sigh right onto her.

Karina whines, softly, in your ear, and then speaks, "Oh master... It looks like there's some dirt I have to clean right"—Karina reaches down below the desk to grasp your trousers, over your bulge—"here. I know just what it needs. A nice spit-shine."

"I did hire you to clean everything," you smile. Karina settles down to her knees on the floor and then crawls under your desk. You spread your legs a little more to let her inside and roll your chair forward ever so slightly. You type your email; there are so many to work through, after all.

Her hands explore over your trousers until she is firmly clasping at you, massaging through your pants. "It's so dirty down here," Karina puts a feigned whine into her voice. "I'm going to have to get in there and really make it nice and clean, master."

Karina tugs at the zipper of your trousers and pulls it down, next she has your boxer shorts tugged down as well. She cradles you in her right hand, toying, feeling it grow harder in the palm of her hand. For some time, she playfully toys and strokes, squeezing and palming and groping all over. This is heaven.

"This is a really big job, sir, I do hope it's worth a nice, big tip. The maid likes to be rewarded well." You hear and feel the giggle against your inner thigh before she runs her wet, slick tongue all the way from the base of your length right up to the head. She spits onto it and collects it with her stroking hand, creating a smooth and slippery glide.

She uses her other hand to massage your balls, cupping and stroking them. She seems to work you over for so long without making a change and it has you wondering if she intends to use just her hand all the way. Her fingertips play over your sensitive cock, teasing, working you into a fever. Your fingertips brush the keyboard, working away while your cock is worked over, a display of inhuman self-control.

"Are you going to be a good maid and clean it for me, or just play with it all day?" Your hand wanders to the top of her head to rub her.

"Sorry master, I have been known to enjoy my job a little too much at times. Don't worry, I will have your dick all cleaned and polished right away." Karina doesn't waste another second, before her mouth engulfs you, sinking down onto you, wet and soft and slippery, hotter than even the warmth of her hands had been, her lips gliding down on you and wrapping snugly.

Your fingers tap wildly over the keyboard. She runs her lips and tongue all along your shaft as she moves down and then up. Every movement causes your toes to curl, and your body to arch forward in your seat. The movements cause your hands to slow over the keyboard. "Good girl."

Karina grabs and caresses your thigh in silent appreciation. It tickles more than anything, making you writhe ever so slightly, but that just sends you deeper into the warmth and wetness. It is absolute bliss, the smooth, warm feeling enveloping your entire shaft.

Her hands kneed your upper thighs as she pushes her head down all the way, before coming up to gasp for air, catching her breath, and then descending back onto you with eagerness. In a moment like this, you can feel every little thing she shoes with her mouth. She plays her tongue over your tip and you grip the keyboard as if you plan to twist it in half. You stare straight ahead blankly, knowing that if you were to look down, you would be a lost cause.

That tongue swirls and twists around the head, a feat that cannot go unacknowledged. You reach down with one hand and tangle up in her soft, silken black hair and push her harder. It's all the direction she needs as she brings the full heat and pressure of her mouth down into your lap, bobbing up and down rapidly. She is drooling all over you. Your fingers are gently caressing her as her tongue draws all sorts of sensations over your flesh.

At last, the task is done and you hit enter and fire off your email. Just in time to grip the arm of your chair. " Fuck..." you exhale under your breath. Karina hums happily as your cock hits the back of her throat, sending ripples through you, driving you ever closer. Harder she sucks, desperate to suck you clean. Your mouth goes dry, and a violent shiver courses through your body, toes and fingers tingling. "I'm going to..." you exhale as a shiver rushes over you, eyes widening, pleasure mounting, peaking.

You tremble. Then, your eyes shut and you squeeze into a fistful of hair. You let out a low, long growl and thrust your hips forward, grunting. You cum, right down the back of Karina's throat, and she works you the entire time, sucking down every drop of you into herself. This is ecstasy. You could float right up away through the roof and into the sky at any minute.

Karina bobs her head for a short time, the intense sensitivity is almost unbearable, every second, every stroke is an overload to your system, but she won't give in into you have released every drop. Finally, she pulls her mouth away. Your whole body sags in relief as Karina leans her face against your thigh. "I trust my work has satisfied?" she whispers, and all you can do is nod. "Then I should continue my other tasks."

Karina crawls out from under your desk, and as she stands, she wipes around her mouth with her fingers. Her lip gloss is smeared at the sides of her lips, her cheeks reddened and her hair messy, but she still gives you the most beautiful smile. She stands straight and neatens her dress. 

"Where was I... Ah, yes, I should dust the shelves. Sir." You roughly pull up your trousers and underwear and watch as Karina retrieves her duster and sets about her work. You look back at your screen but she's still there in the periphery, standing on her tiptoes as she dusts, the hem of her little dress not even half-covering her perky ass. "Don't let me distract you, sir, work hard. Really, really hard."

What else were you meant to do? You watch Karina as she dances around, dusting in a way that doesn't even clean anything. Everything else has become unimportant, apart from the curves of her body moving in front of you. You could sit there all day, watching her, and, well, that's probably just what Karina wants. She has effectively just said don't try to do any work, sit there and think about fucking me instead.

A few emails later she's still there, leaning to reach the lower shelves, arching her back and showing you everything. Your commitment wanes by the second, just staring, thinking and wanting, it's like torture. "How can I focus while you're just there? In front of me?" You ask her directly at last, leaving your chair, walking past and watching her over her shoulder, pressing a kiss onto the side of her neck.

"What's wrong, sir? Have I done something wrong? Please don't fire me, I'll do anything." You stand directly behind her, nose in her neck, your hands resting on her hips, before sliding down and cupping her round ass. Karina fakes a stammer in her voice, "Sir, that's... that's..."

She doesn't resist. Your hands slip between her legs and stroke her underwear. You can feel how wet she is by just grazing over her. "I didn't hire you to be pretty, slutty and wet, you know? I hired you to work."

Karina pushes back into you, grinding against your fingers, wanting more than a tease. "Sir, I thought those were the only reasons you hired me."

You grip the band of her panties, before tugging them down her thighs. Karina grips the bookshelf, pushing her ass out towards you. "You really want to earn a tip?"

"Yes sir, a big, hard, throbbing, long tip..." Karina purrs, squirming against you, trying to get some stimulation where she needs it most, pushing her wet slit back towards you.

You plant one firm palm between her shoulder blades, using a hard force to pin her against the bookcase. Your fingertips travel down between her legs and you slip one inside her, causing her to inhale sharply through clenched teeth.

You follow this with another. They slide right in with a groan. You whisper in her ear, "How can a maid clean when she is so dirty? Look at the mess you are dripping down your leg." You say that with a tinge of aggression even if you're really happy about it. "It's going to get on my floor. The very floor you should be keeping clean."

"I can mop it all up. I'm so sorry." Her voice is an irresistible plea as you massage her soaked insides. "You can even make a mess of me if you want, then I will clean it all up. You will think I'm the very best maid."

"Want to be a good maid?" You spit onto the floor by her foot. "Get down there and clean that up. Quick." Karina immediately descends and begins licking your saliva off the floor.

You lower to your own knees, right behind her, and push your trousers down again, pulling your hardened, still-wet, cock free once more. Karina's licks are frantic—even if there's nothing left on the floor, you order her to continue until it's spotless while you take hold of her hips in a firm, dominant grasp.

You guide her body as needed as you press yourself against her pussy, running your stiffened cock over her flesh. "You clean that floor well and I'll give you a very... very big tip."

"Yes sir," is a repeated series of eager replies punctuated by soft groans, as you grind your shaft against her, lubing yourself up with her sticky juices. She shudders in your grasp and quivers every time the tip of your cock brushes across her clit.

Her attention falters with each one, causing her tongue to get slower. "Keep... Cleaning. You're not done yet." You hold your cock right at her entrance, and she pushes back, a subtle attempt to get you in her, she gets as much as the first inch before you pull back out.

Karina cries out at the teasing, "Nooo, please, put it inside me, sir." She glances back at you, and there's a glaze over those hazel eyes. Desperation.

"Keep licking," you tease Karina, pushing the head of your cock into her and out, never quite fucking her but driving her crazy. "Show me how clean you can get my floor. Then I'll fuck you... Hard... You want that, don't you?"

"Yes," she pants and shivers, unable to even formulate more of a sentence.

You reach up for the back of her dress, the black fabric held together by a white string, which you easily pull free. You keep pulling and it all unwinds from her, exposing her beautiful pale skin down to her lower back. Her breathing speeds as the reality sets in, you're taking control, pulling off her clothing, baring her. You grab the dress, yanking it down her body, and she doesn't even wear a bra so those heavy tits hang freely.

You return a palm to her upper back, pinning her to the floor. You readjust your position behind her.

Now she is near-nude, pressed flush against the cold and wet floor, and you're leaning over her. You steady your grasp back on her waist, taking her firmly. "What do you want?"

"I want payment for my services, sir, in the form of a big, hot load in my slutty, little pussy," Karina moans. She feels vulnerable now, underneath you as you lean over her back.

You begin to press inside her, feeling all of that clinging wetness, hearing her little noises. Slowly at first, before increasing your intensity, driving inside of her all the way. As you do, you speak over her, "Paid in sex? Paid in cum? And where will it go after we're done?"

"I'll keep it inside me, sir, so there's no mess. You can even dump it all inside my ass, and then I will make sure it all stays there." Karina quivers under you, her back is so slender and delicate, smooth as silk. You run your fingers across her spine and see her skin ripple and her butt rise slightly upwards in response.

"Think I might just do that then..." You begin to build up a rhythm inside her, picking up momentum. She seems so delicate and weak under you, everything Karina usually is not. She's whimpering already, a sign of how desperately horny she is, how she wants to be yours. You grip the soft flesh of her ass and then give a slap with your palm, leaving a red mark.

"Thank you, sir." There's a sincere sense of submission in Karina, which you drink up. She enjoys this change of pace just as much as you do.

You slip a thumb between her cheeks and run it up and down her crack. You prod her hole, eliciting another high-pitched whine from her lips and her insides tighten around you which feels fucking amazing. You gather more of the sticky juices leaking down from her pussy, moistening your thumb further and begin pressing your finger more firmly into her, inching the first knuckle up inside her ass.

With each press inside, a squeal leaves her lips, though her words beg for more, "Give me more, sir, don't stop, it's so good... Thank you!"

Karina is reacting like crazy, it is unlike her to be this sensitive, in the moment, she doesn't allow anyone to control her, but this is everything to her now. You push deeper into her, and deeper, and with a little more resistance, all the way inside. Now you're pressed to the hilt, all the way inside Karina's pussy, and thumb-deep inside her ass at the same moment, drawing more delicious, delicate noises from her, turning your beautiful domineering woman into a helpless mess of blissful whimpers.

Keeping your length inside her, you work your thumb with a twist and a push and you let your spit spill onto her hole, slicking it and making the movement smoother. You use your spare hand to brush over the cheeks and grope. Karina trembles violently, moaning, pushing herself backwards on your digit. She loves having you deep inside her like this, both holes stuffed.

There are so many things that you could say, so many taunts, so many vulgar things, but to bask in the revelry of Karina being a messy submissive girl is to not even need to say them, her expressions, noises, reactions and the pure depravity of it are more than enough for you. This is it.

This is it.

You pull from her cunt and cock back your thumb, ready to replace it with all the pumped-up eagerness of a man possessed, and then you spread her wide. Little to stop you as you slide forward, plunging into the warm and snug grip of her ass. She cries out in response to your breach, making those cute, sexy noises all over again, as you slowly slide into her, gritting your own teeth and groaning as you bury yourself completely within the grip of Karina's asshole, every bit as intense and delightful as you knew it would be.

"God you've got the best ass," you say with a growl. "Fit to take everything I have."

Karina could say anything, sarcastic or clever, or maybe something born out of depravity, but she can barely summon up anything more than an approving murmur. The kind of sound a girl makes when her mind isn't here anymore, focused on a single, wonderful feeling—being stuffed and stretched out.

Your hands caress the supple skin of Karina's ass as you begin to withdraw, holding the soft flesh between your fingers and taking handfuls of her.

Karina clutches, clawing at the floor, but says nothing, letting the sensations take her away, overwhelmed. Just her moans and the deep gasping breath through her nose as you roll your hips into her, grinding and stroking over her and causing her to go so rigid and tense. Her eyes roll back as you lose yourself within her.

A rhythm forms and you're barrelling towards giving her the mess she wants inside her ass. She strains to say, "Fuck my ass. Fuck it. Fuck it and then fill it. Want you so deep. Want all that cum."

Your fingernails dig in, gouging red scratches on her pale ass cheeks as you squeeze her tighter. Karina's hole grows snugger and hotter by the second as if the warmth and depth were begging for what Karina had voiced—an ass full of cum. You certainly want that, and the faster and rougher your hips work the closer it is. "Love filling all your tight holes."

"Do it, cum," Karina moans.

Hard and fast it arrives, the need that you can't prevent. You erupt within her. Violent spasms accompany your filling of her ass, of what must be the most satisfying, taboo orgasm of your life (so far). She takes it all so beautifully, moaning and squealing as she fills up.

No mess. None at all. "So full," she whines. No mess but the one in her.

You lean down, head at her shoulder as you catch your breath, and she cranes her head to nuzzle against you, reaching up to touch your cheek and make eye contact with you through heavy-lidded, satisfied eyes. In that gaze, she doesn't have a smirk or any sort of mischief, just a pleased look of joy, appreciation, and perhaps even a desire for more. You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't say you shared the feeling.

You leave her there, slumped onto the floor, ass in the air. Her little maid outfit is barely even affixed to her body anymore, crumpled and hanging around her midsection. The skin of her ass still bears the marks of your nails. She remains where you have left her. Karina's face and breasts smudge and push against the floor with each breath she takes. The room smells of sex, her, the two of you.

"Clean yourself up. Clean my office up," you instruct her while buckling yourself back up before heading for the door.

Karina coughs once, then admits, "I don't know if I can manage that. Maybe we need a real maid."

[softiedingo]

ao3 as always saving lives 🤌🏻

[malereadermaniac]

Exploring ~ Rodrick Heffley x Male Reader

Getting it on with the local emo Top!Rodrick x Bottom!Reader word count: 610 Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Imagine weekly makeouts with Rodrick

Him coming over to your house to "do homework" and instead spending the whole Saturday with you in his lap, his tongue playing with yours as his hands rest on your hips

The two of you aren't dating or anything! You're just... exploring your sexualitites - it's perfectly natural as 18/19 year olds!

Kissing slowly becoming not enough to satiate the carnal desires Rodrick feels for you, soft grinding starting to come adjacent to the many hour-long, weekly makeout sessions

The rocker just can't get enough if the sounds you make as he rubs his hard dick against yours through his jeans. And you fucking love the low grunts Rodrick makes in your mouth as he kisses you or in your ear, along with a sexy groan of your name

Eventually, the two of you decided to take your sexual affairs to a new level - your parents had left you the house for two days and Rodrick's dick had hardened almost immediately when he found out

Your poor bed could barely fit the two of you, but you made it work

Rodrick above you, his muscles on full display as he slowly fucked into you turned you on to the max - he promised to go slow and he did, but mainly because he didn't want to cum in 5 seconds!

Your moans are what pushed the rocker over the edge. Your sweet and sexy sounds, along with your tight, warm walls, made the man shoot his load instantly

And from the way Rodrick panted and moaned above you, to the way he held onto your waist his his sexy, masculine, nail-painted and ring-adorned hands, jesus christ you came right away!

Over time, the two of you became more experienced; sex would last longer than the 15 minutes it took your first time, and you would both go for multiple rounds

You found out that Rodrick loves to have you suck his dick, look down at you as you cry from how huge his cock is, his pubes stuffing your nose as he softly caresses your cheek

The rocker had also become a huge fan of eating you out, after you taught him exactly how you like it, the man can't get enough of you! And the man has tricks too! He fingers your prostate to high heaven while eating you out and makes you cum within seconds!

All that to say that Rodrick's shape had pretty much indented into not only your ass but your bed - your parents were convinced that you two were dating from how often the man slept at yours!

But that doesn't mean you two don't mess about at Rodrick's house as well!

His Christian parents just make it a little harder to do so, that's why you pretend to be a part of his band

His parents don't know that Rodrick and you do it in his van every Sunday (lol)

Loud rock music playing from a radio to drown out the pornographic sounds that might escape the violently rocking van

It's safe to say the two of you have become addicted to one another; from your scents to your bodies to your voices, you fucking love all of Rodrick and he fucking loves all of you

So it wasn't much of a shocker when Rodrick randomly asked you to be his boyfriend one day, dick balls deep inside of you

You short-circuited and blue-balled him as punishment for making such a special moment so gross!

But later that day, you two made up and out, the night finishing with your typical make-out sesh and as boyfriend and boyfriend!

[nouearth]

red right hand.

pairing. henry cavill x male reader.

word count. 7.3k.

summary. if there was one thing to give your dad credit for (other than helping create your very existence), it was that he has an insanely hot best friend. it was a universal admiration your neighborhood shared with one another. though, how many actively feasted upon their fantasies regarding that hunk of a man? probably only you, because mr. cavill was more than a crush, he was an addiction. and on one summer day, mr. cavill realized that so were you.

content warning. college!reader, dad's best friend!henry, neighbor!henry, age gap, blowjob (r!giving), degrading, throat-fucking, choking, gagging, spitting, kissing, humiliation, body and muscle worship, rough-play, size difference, dirty talk, verbal, praising, size kink.

The warm wind fanned the sweat off your forehead when you slid your window open. The ledge stained your fingers with particles of dust. Grimacing at the fuzz and simultaneous stickiness, it also provoked a storm of laziness as steel reminders from your dad got caught up in the commotion: CLEAN THE HOUSE.

CAR MAINTENANCE.

STOP ORDERING TAKE-OUT AND COOK.

SORT THE ATTIC.

TIDY GARAGE.

CHECK STOVE IGNITIONS BEFORE LEAVING THE HOUSE.

LOCK THE DOORS.

Ya-dah, ya-dah…

Honestly, how could you check-off any of these tasks with this heatwave currently going on? You were sweating bullets, been sweating enough to bathe in your own salt for days now—which you technically were already doing. It was summer, the long-awaited season after the agony of allergies. A temporary relief to your studies as well, until the humidity hit you like a truck and made you realize that living back in a dorm wasn’t so bad. 

At least the building had a functional air-conditioner. 

“Uh-huh, yep.” Your dad’s voice was going in one ear and out the other as you rummaged through your cabinets for a snack. Cereal; stale. Canned meat; too heavy. Potato chips; not heavy enough. “Dad, you know you’ve gone on business trips before, right? This isn’t the first time I’ve been alone.”

“I know, but I’m just making sure. It’s a new house, and I’ve been watching these true crime documentaries about men leaving clubs and—“

“Well, the first mistake was going to a sketchy club in the first place…” You muttered, peering into the fridge, and then lingering, because refrigerator air has never felt so cooling against your skin. You duck your head to puzzle yourself into the cold box, dumbfounded that the heat had gotten you irritated enough to claim a bag of deli meat as your bunkmate for the time being. The sound of your dad’s frustrated sigh on the other line curled your frown into a smile, and you laughed, “I’m a big boy. Stop worrying, and go enjoy—Ow!“ You bumped your head against the door on your way out.

“How can I not worry when you just referred to yourself as a ‘big boy?’ Not even a man?!” You never realized how theatric the man was. It was like his presence never left the house, exaggerated hand movements and all wafting the smell of his homemade meals whenever he would scold you in his favorite place: the kitchen. You smiled at the fond memories.

“Good point—“ Though they were made at your old house, you were sure that once he’d returned, your dad wouldn’t be opposed to creating new memories of scolding your ass off on whatever trouble you’d get into. If you do, that is. You’ve grown since then, finding yourself too tired to socialize.

“Remember, spare key’s in the birdhouse. There’s a compartment at the side of it. Hopefully birds haven’t evolved enough to pick it open.”

“If they have, they’d be picking at our locks right now to kidnap me and probably feast on my body.” Luckily, the fridge was stocked before your dad had left. You crucified him for being overly-prepared at times, but for this month, it was an exception. You picked at a slice of deli meat and cheese, and stuffed it down your mouth.

“Not funny, (M/N).”

“I’m kidding, Dad. Lighten up! I know you’re nervous about presenting, but they invited you to talk to an audience for a reason. They like you. Just be yourself, and remember not to speak so fast. Have some water on standby too.” And speaking of the devil, you gulped down a glass of iced water to cool down your body as your dad chuckled in your ear.

“I know, I know, thanks.” A muffled sound on the other end filled the silence, sounds of people passing and cars honking passing through your ear. “Alright, my ride’s here. I’ll call as soon as I get to the hotel, okay? You better answer—Oh! I forgot to tell you! Henry’s coming over later to look at the car.”

“Henry—Oh, Mr. Cavill? He’s in the neighborhood?” The name rattled a familiar feeling inside of your stomach. Something rather warm, suddenly ravenous when you thought about the last time you saw him.

“Actually, he was the one that told me about this house! He lives down the street. But tool’s in the garage if he asks for them, okay?” 

“Y-yeah, okay. Got it.” You hadn’t seen him many times. Only when you’d come home from semester breaks, yet the mere mention of his name had you flustered as if he was a long-lost friend or something. 

“Okay, gotta go. Love you, and remember, lock your doors! Bye!”

“I will! Bye…” Your phone blinked back to your previous app after ending the call.

You knew he was your dad’s best friend; a divorced father and a bachelor unsurprisngly made a match in heaven.

He was someone that shared your father’s interest in tabletop games and comic books. A replacement for yourself you thought earlier on, but he was way more knowledgeable about those interest than you ever were. You grew up on your dad’s nostalgia. For Mr. Cavill and your dad? These memories altered them who they would be in the future.

He was a friend that would help your dad out on building projects, like that birdhouse he had mentioned. He was a charming man that built the PC you currently use after hearing you complain about the previous laptop you had. And best of all, his looks were as abundant as his kindness. Standing over six feet tall, with a chiseled face that matched an equally sculpted body; he’d been a little crush since you first met him, being the only man who was capable of rendering you utterly speechless.

And in present, the only man who had the power to tighten your briefs and shorts with only a passing thought of his body; muscular and athletic in all the right places. If only your dad could somehow muster up a beach day before summer ended. Either way, the image of his bare body excited you, the blood flow immediately rushing south in agreement. Your dick kissed your shorts at the thought water cascading off his hulking body like meltwater over an ice shelf, freezing you in your place to not-so-subtly gawk.

“Jesus…” Your body couldn’t catch a break, could it? With the ramping heat and the constant sweating, your erection only added fuel to the bonfire that was the pores of your skin. Your cock pulsed madly within the constraint of your briefs, teasing yet begging to be released, to be sheathed from its slick, because it knew you had the key to its relief.

Or rather, Mr. Cavill did.

It was pathetic. You’d been at this for a year now. As much as you were unfamiliar with Mr. Cavill’s disposition, it was certainly the opposite regarding his physical appearance. Though it hadn’t exactly occur to you when this crush of yours had been tiptoeing along the lines of obsession. 

Wait, was it an obsession..? No, no, it was just a crush. 

You hadn’t done anything wrong. All you had done was browse through his social media—he did follow you, and you mutually pursued—and stalked—no—scrolled through his posts. Thank god, he was an avid poster. Pictures of his selfies, his knack for grilling, his love for his pet dogs, his pride over his geeky hobbies, his friendship with your dad and mutual buddies—all of these pieces attributed to allowing you to get to know him more as you were rotting away on campus, missing life back at home. Like clockwork, looking at his feed brought a sense of comfort, a hope that maybe you could be part of his life as well.

“God, what I’d do to ride that mustache…” You blurted out your thoughts, hyper-aware that you were alone in the house. You’d been waiting for this. You’d been surrounded by your roommates 24/7, and then once break started, your dad wanted to insert himself into your schedules as much as he could before the next semester starts. 

As much as you loved them, you needed space. A space bigger than the privacy of your own room. You deserved the whole house to yourself after enduring months of agony from overdue assignments; stress from bickering roommates that led to chaos within the dorm. You haven’t jerked off properly in months, often resorting to a quick session that comforted you on the occasions you’d have to pull multiple all-nighters to get a project done.

You needed relief.

You needed pleasure.

“Fuck,” Your eyes had been fixated on Mr. Cavill’s social media feed as you stripped yourself free of clothing. On one hand, it helped your body cool off from the heat building in the house. On the other, you felt vulnerable, like someone could walk in on you any second, and god, was that a turn-on. 

A grid of his life displayed happily before you, and your thumb scrolled aimlessly in pursuit of multiple pictures ingrained in your brain that had your cock throbbing in your palm. You laid flat on the couch, earbuds fit snug in the canals after briefly switching apps to play your favorite porn in the background of your search. Your stomach sunk deep when the man began moaning in your ears. Hot like the blistering sun outside; you can imagine Mr. Cavill breathing against you like that, as you took his cock in like the video you had playing. Your balls pulled when the man grunted, “Right there,” and you couldn’t help but pull at the ache of your cock, then at your balls to fondle at the loose stretch of skin.

“Right there,” you repeated when your thumb paused at the desired video of Mr. Cavill. Another major part of his lifestyle was working out. Strength training, cardio, marathons. You name it, Mr. Cavill did it all, exceptionally well, and the crème de la crème of it all was that he bared his torso for most of his videos. “Fuck, you’re so big… Fuck, fuck…” 

It was like watching a warrior prepare for battle. Sweat dripped off the holiest parts of his body as he pumped his muscles with heavy weights. Grunts, heavy and lewd sounds filled your ears while Mr. Cavill powered through his body’s resistance. You wondered to yourself if he could take you like that. Force you to take him with brute strength like the weights in his muscular, veiny hands. You were stroking yourself to him, every part of him, palm slick with sweat and spit. Two fingers would get the job done, stretching you out in preparation for his cock. Though, you knew deep down that it would take more than that. Three, or maybe even four, considering the hunk of a man was seemingly built from metal. The video replayed multiple times before you remembered that he had more than enough content for you to jerk off to. You were barely five minutes in, but this was already more pleasurable than whatever you had endured back at the dorms. Your cock felt pleased, spitting out dribbles of thick pre-cum that loosened the stick of your palm as donation to your generosity.

“Fuck, Henry…” You rarely referred to him by his first name. It felt unusual. You were much younger than him. Addressing someone closer to your dad’s age felt rude, like you were trying to assert your dominance despite your age difference. You were many things, but disobedient was not one of them. However, you couldn’t lie. His name felt polishing to your tongue, something that could improve the taste of dreadful meals if one were to whisper it before taking a spoonful.

His name felt like a miracle.

Your sexual appetite was nourished by the frames of Mr Cavill’s second video. He was completely unaware he was bulging, free-balling in his sweaty shorts while he pursued his vitality through jumping jacks, lunges, toe-touches—cardio galore that made his heavy cock bounce in rhythm. You could tell he was large, gifted with insane girth to the point where you could make out the shape of his cock just from him stretching. And the smell; sweat sticking on thick curly hairs on his chest, and a happy trail that seemed to promise a world of musk if you ever had an opportunity to endeavor upon your curiosities. You were practically salivating for him, saliva pooling where your tongue sank, while your cock leaked. You pumped yourself quicker and harder at the frustration that your desire to taste Mr. Cavill’s cock would remain a pipe dream.

All that left you was your imagination, and your own musk. Pulling up at your glans, you squeezed out thick loads of pre-cum before swiping it with your thumb and tasting it off with a suck. Salty, bitterly pleasant on your tongue, and satiated enough to not let your libido falter at the disappointment that it wasn’t Mr. Cavill’s pre-cum, but rather smolder.

“Oh, fuck my mouth… I need that cock, Mr. Cavill. Please—“ The frames of the third video showcased him flexing his arms and torso. His body bursted with pride, veins surging through every fiber of muscle like they were charging him and his very existence. It was veiny too, wasn’t it? His cock. Large and veiny, like how you’d like it. You would struggle fitting him inside of your mouth while his cock veins pulsed with great pleasure knowing that it was Mr. Cavill’s kink that you couldn’t take him. 

No one could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Your eyes rolled back. The slurping sounds from the porn increased by tenfold as you pumped the volume by a few decibels. Lewd, slick sounds you wished you could perform on Mr. Cavill himself violated your ear drums. Pleasure him. Thank him on your knees for being so kind to your father. For building your PC without compensation. For providing you temporarily relief while you were away on campus, and could only jerk off under the blanket. You were grateful for him. For Mr. Cavill. For his thick arms. For his veiny forearms. For his dashing good-looks. For his muscles. For his strong cock. You’d give yourself to him if you could. Worship every inch of his step, every inch of his body, and that still wouldn’t be enough to show your appreciation towards him. 

Your fist tightened. Your other hand had grown limp by now, dropping your phone to the floor by mistake, but you were too fixated on the pleasure your cock was receiving to retrieve it back. You could watch it from where you were laying, just like this, slickly twisting and pumping your cock to the sound of the porn, to the sound of Mr. Cavill grunting simultaneously as if his thick cock was being feasted on like a hungry beast. “Mr. Cavill, please—I’m going to—“

One earbud slipped from the sweat building on your body, but you were close. So fucking close to coming. And when you do, you’d come on your phone.

All over Mr Cavill’s pecs. His abs. His crotch. His face. Anywhere, as long as it was your friendly neighbor, because—

“Enjoying yourself, (M/N)?”

A voice from behind you alerted your body to jolt and whip around upon instinct to defend yourself. Naked or not, you weren’t going to die, not in the hands of a burglar.

Though, as soon as you did, you regretted it. You felt like stone. Cold, hard stone as all signs of life seemingly felt like it had been sucked dry out of your body, with your erection taking up most of the produce surprisingly as you confronted the intruder.

The six-feet, muscular, handsome, and familiar man of an intruder. 

“M-Mr. Cavill?! What—When did you—“ You were flustered. Radiant heat blooming like the season of Spring across several patches of your naked body. It also didn’t help that your porn could be heard from earbuds once you took the remaining one out, albeit a bit muffled. And your phone, it was facing the ceiling, looping the video of Mr. Cavill training over and over again. Right before him.

Your body was shaking, physically evident despite your efforts to conceal the tremors as the man stared you down, unfazed by the drama of it all. “Fuck—“ You didn’t know what to turn off first. The porn? The video of him working out? Or maybe dressing yourself should be a priority because—Mr. Cavill was still staring, blues lingering on your naked body, seemingly outlining every drop of sweat that followed the contours of your figure. There was movement that naturally caught your attention. 

It was his hand, large and muscular over the center of his shorts. Rubbing, squeezing, fondling at an evidently large mass that made you dry-swallow. You mustered up the courage to finally pause the porn, then clicked your phone off. “H-how long have you been watching?”

“Since the beginning.” He chuckled, stating matter-of-factly. “Your dad told me to come look at your car. Your garage was open. Thought you did that for me, but I guess you really just forgot about closing it considering…” He nodded towards your cock, licking his lips when it acknowledged him with a throb. “Was coming to get you, and I found you like this.”

“And you just watched?!” You sputtered out in distress, hastily dressing yourself back into your clothes, stumbling over your feet in the process. Sweat always made it more difficult to put on clothes.

“Well, I did call you for while I was coming in. You didn’t hear me over your video, and…me, I suppose.” It was smug. Amusing to him that you were in this state of embarrassment after being caught red-handed. You groaned, burying your head into your knees after sitting back down on the couch. The heat was unbearable, but to face Mr. Cavill after being caught jerking off to his videos, you were overcome with horror at the ghastly spectacle of the situation.

“Don’t tell my dad about this,” Your fingers scraped through your scalp out of frustration, but also to keep your head pressed to your knees as they interlaced around you. You refused to even spare one more glance at the man when you felt him practically hovering over you, a gentle smile riding along the coattails of his composure. “…please.”

“I won’t,” Mr. Cavill’s voice sounded clearer, closer than before. Right above you, but still, you maintained your position despite the pleasant scent of his cologne almost breaking away your focus. “Just as long as you suck me off.”

Those final words hit you like a truck. 

You were astounded, confused by the turn of the situation. It felt like a taunt, and it was treated as such because it worked. You whipped your head up upon Mr. Cavill’s demand, almost insulted because it was how guys on campus used to taunt you.

What you expected to grace your eyes with was his face; charming as ever with a mustache that was reliable in stirring immense feelings inside of you.

Instead, you were met with a face full of flesh, Mr Cavill’s heavy and large cock. It sported a strong curve, throbbing veins to prove its accelerating lust, with thick balls swinging low to entice you into a hypnotic state. If someone was to grade you upon your predictions, you’d score a perfect mark, because god damn, he was huge. Hairier than you’d expected, though just as arousing, if not more, because this was unexpected for Mr. Cavill as well. He would’ve cleaned himself a bit if he had a plan to meet you under these circumstances.

“I—You’re serious?” With the string of thick pre-cum dripping from the very slit of his head, it seemed like your question was answered. You could smell him. The musk of his pre-cum. It tingled your nostrils, enchanting you akin to what fresh pastries would’ve done for you on normal, non-libido provoking circumstances.

“Does it look like I’m kidding? Come on, I’m waiting. You didn’t even say ‘thank you’ to me in person when I built you that PC for Christmas. It’s the least you could do, right?” Without warning, he took ahold of his cock and tapped the center of your lips with it. Your orbs shook as you looked up at him, hesitant through the tremor of your lips as Mr. Cavill stared back, determined for you to accept his plea offer with some kind of answer—with your mouth preferably. “Been teasing me for so long… Think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me whenever I came over? How you kept massaging your cock under the table during dinner? Always in those shorts too… God, you were begging to be fucked with your thighs showing like that.”

“No—I-You’re my dad’s friend, I can’t—“ Your hand said otherwise with your fingers taking initiative on their own, wrapping over his large cock, right above Mr. Cavill’s fist. It was a two-hander, a fucking two-hander, yet your fingers struggled to close around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so…”

“Your dad doesn’t have to know, right? I won’t tell. You won’t either. We don’t want to hurt him, right?” One of his hands found its way to the back of your head while he took a step closer, bringing his cock closer to your face. Before you could pull away, there was true grit to the palm of Mr Cavill’s hand as he applied pressure to the back of your head, pressing your cheek flush to the underside of his cock. “Look at you, you don’t have the heart to say no, do you? You’re obsessed with my cock, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Cavill…” You were under his control. Locks of your hair bundled under a grip while he ground his cock against your supple skin, making you smell him; his musky cock, the sweat buried in the deep hairs of his pubic area. It was a glorious scene that returned your cock back to its original state of arousal by tenfold. 

“You’re going to be a good boy and suck my cock off, right?” Almost in your mouth. You parted your lips open to trap his cock into your mouth with the way he maneuvered your head like a rag doll, a brute strength your nape now, pulling and pushing your head as his cock rubbed against your face, but Mr. Cavill pulled at the last minute, right when you were one lick away from tasting meaty flesh. “Close your mouth. You will open your mouth when I tell you so.”

“I—I—Yes, please...” You were pathetic. He held you still, head tilted upwards to face the ceiling and his towering body while his cock and balls laid over your face like a table runner, a perfect heater to warm his meat. A t-shirt remained on his body, and that was a true testament to his appeal, being able to get you off like this half-naked. You reached down, back to fondling at your sore cock, at the blue balls you’d given yourself earlier, sniffing, inhaling the heavy delightful scent of his sweaty cock. Guess his house was having air-conditioning difficulties too.

“I can use your mouth however I want?” He dragged his cock over your face, the head leaking out pre-cum in midst of its journey to introducing itself to every one of your facial features, saving your lips for last. 

“Yes,” You gulped at his rousing speech, breathing in the drying musky pre-cum on the perimeter of your skin. “Please fuck my mouth, please—“

“If you’re good, then this can be a regular occurrence, yeah?” You slipped your shorts and briefs off again, jerking yourself off to simply the teasing taunt of his cock, tapping at your skin, brushing over your eyelids, pushing up against your nose. You felt humiliated. You’d been marked by Mr. Cavill, pathetically as it only took his huge cock to make you submit to him. “You’d like that? Sucking your dad’s best friend off?”

“F-fuck, yes…” His cock was a wand to your body. Every time Mr. Cavill was seemingly about to push into your mouth, you willingly opened it to no avail, even if it was obvious that he’d pull away. You could only get off on his scent for so long. He’d draw your tongue out when he squeezed pre-cum out the tip of his cock, right above your pink flesh. It would sink, drip, slowly like syrup, in thick strings, until it wasn’t anymore with the sudden obstruction of Mr. Cavill’s finger swooping in to nick the sticky web, and letting it waste away on the carpet. “Please, Mr. Cavill… I-I’ll be good…”

It was amusing to him, watching you desperately try to taste and watch him in any way you can, to the point of going cross-eyed as he would center his cock in your vision. He waved his cock like a flag as if he had conquered you. Humiliated you with several heavy slaps to your face, thick smacks that you took in whimpering grace because Mr. Cavill had stolen the resources to your insanity.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Mr. Cavill didn’t waste a single second for you to prepare yourself. The pressure on your nape steeled, bruising to make you open your mouth and whimper, and maybe that was the point, because he seized the opportunity to charge his cock inside of your mouth without warning, making you gag on your own desperation. It was a forewarning. A brief prologue on how you should take his cock as he quickly pulled himself out to properly prepare yourself. In the meantime, he slapped your cheek multiple times with the spit you had already layered him with, cooing at how incredible hard and big he was against your dazed face.

“Fuck, your mouth is so warm. That’s it, you can take it. Good boy.” Saliva spilled out of your mouth like a popped water balloon when he pushed himself inside of your mouth again. You couldn’t control it. You couldn’t control what Mr. Cavill had stripped away from you with the strength he had on your neck. Not to mention, the mass of flesh gagging you into oblivion, leaving you completely incapable of stopping him, as if you wanted him to. “Come on, use your hands too. Don’t be lazy.”

“Mm-mmf…” A compliance that was muffled by a slur of slick sounds, but Mr. Cavill knew what you meant. Amusement played on the corner of his lips as you struggled to fit a hand around the base of his sticky cock, sloppily stroking what was left neglected by your mouth, or rather your inability to take in. You suckled on the head of his cock, plump and heavy on your tongue as it throbbed with every lick you provided him. Stroking its slit with the tip of your tongue, you then dug and slobbered over the salty taste of his pre-cum. “So big… Just like I’d imagined.”

You pulled away to marvel at the size of his cock, taking your time to lube his cock with your spit from tip to shaft before your fist flushed to his pelvis to slap his meaty cock on the pouch of your tongue, lewdly flinging your spit in the air. It was your favorite move, often reliable in coercing a reaction out of the men you’d sucked off previously. The roll of his eyes, the flex of his muscles, the grunt from his gut; you slobbered all over his cock, worshipping every inch with your mouth, polishing the cock knob clean with your tongue and stroking what you couldn’t with two deft hands. Mr. Cavill was no different, he was a man with needs like you, with needs like the rest of the men you’d given head to, and you exploited the hell out of it. You loved making them feel in power, making them feel like you were worth time out of their day, despite their original pleas to use your mouth.

He briefly pulled back to rest a kiss on your lips, one that you’d treasure for the rest of your life. Not only was it because it was your first kiss was him, but because of how delicate he was with you. Warm and inviting like he usually was, his large hands cupped at the end of your jaw, holding you as if you were made of porcelain. “Making me so proud right now, fuck. Take in more of my cock, would you? I like it when you gag.”

“Mm-hmm…” They always do. You mumbled against his lips, no longer needing his guidance to finish what you’d started. Your eyes were glued to Mr. Cavill, aroused by the look he was giving you. A famished stare that demanded to be satiated, by means of sheer persistence as you knew it was going to be difficult to down him with your throat.

Mr. Cavill drove a hand into your hair, cuffing the strands to keep you still, to keep you from pulling away, to dominate you. He watched you without an ounce of kindness, muscles flexing, cock and balls hanging obscenely as you found a better position on your knees with a throw pillow guarding you from bruising. “Want you to throat-fuck me, Mr. Cavill.”

“Fuck, who knew you had such a mouth on you…” He sturdied his stance, spreading his strong legs while manhandling your head between them. You licked a stripe over his balls, then the underside of his cock until your tongue reached the scorching skin of his precum-slicked tip. Approaching the end of the journey, your mouth opened wide to welcome Mr. Cavill back into your mouth, and like tugging on a loose knot, you drew out moans from within his gut, his body loosening in turn of your hot mouth. “Fuck, just like that…”

With a thundering heart, and a building pleasure so morbidly big, you sunk and lowered your head lower, taking in Mr. Cavill’s horse-cock like a fleshlight. Crimson rose to your cheeks, to your neck, as you strained to maintain him inside of your mouth. He was too big. You’ve utilized all the tactics you’ve learned on campus, on a few buddies, on your roommates. Breathe through your nose, relax your tongue and jaw, let your saliva drip out. Yet you’d barely taken a few inches more than you had done prior before a couple of gags alerted you to take a breather. Your head pulled back, but it was met with violent opposition as Mr. Cavill brought your head back down to further shove himself down your throat.

“Mmm—gggrgh!” Your body jolted in defense, stiffening your body into an upright position when you couldn’t refrain from gagging on his cock. Your hands braced on his strong thighs for balance, squeezing at the muscly flesh of skin to distract yourself from the uncomfortable stretch your mouth was receiving.

“Fuck, yeah. Fuck, fuck, just like that. You’re taking it like a good boy.” You were making him proud, so fucking proud. You coughed, gagging, almost choked on your own spit, but the stuffing of Mr. Cavill’s large cock simultaneously emptied your mouth of saliva as it all came flooding down your mouth in lewd webs. “Shit, look at that. I’m making your mouth water, aren’t I? Fuck, what a waste.”

He yanked your head back, pulling him out of your throat, and you had never felt such relief. Breathing, exhaling and inhaling deep to compensate for the prediction that Mr. Cavill wasn’t going to let you spare a second of abandoning his cock like that. Your eyes watered, reddened from straining your muscles to make him fit inside of your mouth. You knew there was a shift in the room when you looked up at him like that, glossy in the eyes, tremors involuntarily making your knees unsteady, coughing as you held onto his thighs. He towered over you, you were beneath him, beneath the ravenous gaze he simultaneously terrified and seduced you with. You couldn’t complain now. You did your job. You made him feel powerful like you’d wanted. Dominating, as his cock leaked in your spit, and spit your saliva back onto your face.

“You were fucking hungry for my cock, weren’t you? Look at you. You’re a bloody mess…” With one swipe, he gathered the layers of spit you had generously supplemented his cock with, and smeared it across your face. You took his humiliation with good grace, moaning at your loss of pride with every smear. It deducted the more he messily layered your face with your own spit, but as demeaning as it was, there was immense merit to the satisfaction on Mr. Cavill’s face. “Open up.”

“M-mm, ah—“ Your mouth opened with a vulgar sound. If Mr. Cavill had something to compare it to, it would be like sticking a spoon into a cup of jello, and then scooping its content out. Sweet and glorious to his ears, salty to your mouth as he bought your head forward again, and plunged his cock back down your throat, deeper, and further within the confines of your throat. You squeezed around him, eyes clenched tight while he brought your face flushed to his pelvis, the hairy bush of his public area gentle abrasive against your nose. He smelled as delectable as he tasted. A hint of spice, sweat, salt, you could lick at it if it was made into a popsicle, lap it up if it was in a bowl and you were on all fours, bowing to his feet.

Your cheeks bulged as your mouth churned internally to produce more slime to seemingly ease the slide of Mr. Cavill’s cock thrusting inside of you now. He was careless, half-bent over your head to lock you into a tight embrace while his spit-polished cock rubbed at either side of your cheeks, rut against the roof of your mouth, then thrust himself into the depth of your warm throat. You couldn’t have escaped if you had wanted to. He was too strong. Two hands unrelenting around your head while he packed his large cock deep into your mouth, pelting into your gags and whimpers with fast, sharp thrusts, the sound of his wet dick choking you mutually turning you and Mr. Cavill on. You want to quit, yet he was choking you too good. Water streamed down your cheeks. Whether it was your own spit, sweat, or tears, you couldn’t comprehend it because Mr. Cavill was uncompromising, refusing to yield for your comfort.

You were fucking grateful. That was what had been missing from your college experience. A man. Someone taking charge for once. Someone utilizing you like the whore you made yourself out to be. Mr. Cavill saw right through you, through your taunts from several breaks ago, and he was fucking furious for making him wait.

“Shit, I’m close,” Fucking your mouth furiously. You could get off like this. Fuck, no. You were getting off to this. Fucking your cock with your fist, doing your best to match the pace of Mr. Cavill’s hips. You wanted to look up, to watch his face morph from admiration to animalistic desire as he utilized your throat at his own disposal.

You blinked away your tears, even if they had stung, and gawked at how captivating Mr. Cavill was for being selfish, thrusting into your mouth with one hand keeping your face free of your hair from obstructing his view. A frown permanently framed his mustache, and his dark brows furrowed at the approaching climax. He wasn’t looking at you. Rather, he was scrutinizing your wet mouth as it was jam-packed with his cock. How could a mouth look so pretty while doing something absolutely obscene? How could a throat feel so tight, so addictive, even after piping his cock down its drain several times? How could you let him treat you like this, a complete stranger, completely violate and humiliate you on your knees, like a broken doll whose purpose was to fulfill a man’s deepest desires? Maybe he needed to have a talk with your father. Talk about how broken you were, and that you needed fixing. Spend a nights with him at his house, and he would help you rewire your brain. He’d fix you. Fix you with his cock. With his lips. With his hands. With his body. Your eyes rolled back at the thought, fisting your cock faster, twisting to his heavy grunts as he was nearing closer and closer to the edge of his insanity.

“Mfghm!” Your throat felt raw, the subtlest whimper scratching at your throat like claws on chalkboard. But you persisted, pumping your shaft vigorously, your ears lapping up Mr. Cavill’s constant appraisal for your performance. Good boy. That’s it. You’re taking my cock like how I want it. You want your reward? Fuck, sloppier. Spit on it. Spit on my dick. I like it sloppy. 

Sweat pebbled every inch of your skin. You couldn’t take it. It was coming. Your stomach sank and steeled upon the sudden rise of fulfillment, and you quickly released your grip after a final stroke before coming into the air. Thick ropes catapulted upwards, your cock throbbing with every pulse, and your balls emptying itself more and more with a bounce, a twitch, and a jolt. “F-fuck, ugh…”

“Fuck, yeah. Look at all of that cum. Fuck. You came that much just from my cock, look at that…“ Your body spasmed as the carpet soaked up your semen. His voice gruff yet gentle at the same time, making your cock twitch once more before softening. 

“Come on, not done yet. Suck me off.” He spat out, tugging your head forward after a quick breather.

Something in you clicked, and you began sucking his cock off like it was your job. Twisting, stroking at the slick shaft while nipping at the head while you caught up to your breath. Suddenly saltier on your tongue as some of your cum had landed on your hand before it was smeared across Mr. Cavill’s dick. You’ve never tasted yourself before, but it was a found contentment you didn’t expect to turn you on.

Then, you took one last breath, cleared your throat, and charged forward. Long, thick inches slid into your throat once more, and you’d hold yourself there upon his final warning, mouth agape, lips pressed into the fur of his pubic hair. Your tongue flattened at the underside of his veiny cock, and your nails dug into the back of his thighs as you felt a thick warmth rush down and coat the inside of your throat. His cock throbbed, and Mr. Cavill’s grunts emptied from his gut with every spill. You could feel every heavy pulse as Mr. Cavill came down your throat in heavy, creamy spurts. You didn’t want to swallow. Not yet. You wanted to savor him. Savor the taste of his cum. You’d pined for it for so long, for all you could know, this could be your last opportunity to properly taste him. Slowly, but surely, his loads rose and pooled in the back of your throat upon barricading it with a tighten of your trachea. The rest of his spurts emptied on your tongue as he pulled himself out, and milked himself to completion. 

“Don’t swallow yet.”

You nodded, panting, awaiting for his nuts to be emptied as he flung his cock a few times, hurling drips of cum and your spit over your tongue and face. When he was seemingly emptied out, his gaze fixated on his cum pooled in the back of your throat; semi-translucent and filthily swimming with your own spit, and then Mr. Cavill’s own saliva, as he then spat into your crowded mouth. 

“Now swallow.”

You whimpered at the vulgarity of this affair, yet you were highly-aroused by this shame you were feeling. Mr. Cavill’s gaze stilled, anticipating with calm amusement while petting at your cheek. With one clean gulp, you downed your guilt, scrunching your nose when the salty taste of his spunk throttled your tastebuds, and sighed in satisfaction.

“Does your throat hurt?” He was on his haunches, carefully examining your throat as if he had his hand around you from the outside. It was a surprising return to his normal self, at least, the man that you knew as your dad’s best friend. Caring and patient, as he tended to your neck with apologetic kisses, and a gentle massage around your nape, where he must’ve gripped too hard upon your jolted reaction.

“A little… Didn’t take you were one to be rough like that.” Your knees gave out, letting yourself fall back onto your butt knowing that the couch would catch your position.

“Not usually, no… You just… happen to rile me up for some reason.” He was smiling, joining you on the floor, and nuzzling his furry mustache into the crook of your neck as if he wasn’t choking you with his cock a few minutes ago. It was unusual, yet charming. “Seriously, don’t tell your dad, okay?” He whispered into your ear before turning your cheek to look deep in his eyes.

A meaningful stare, a beat of silence, before you spoke, “Only if you promise me something.”

“What’s that?” Mr. Cavill pressed a kiss to your swollen lips, another apology for stretching your mouth without much warning.

“You really meant it that this would be a regular thing if I did a good job?” Mr. Cavill scoffed at first. It was almost embarrassing. Were you being naive? Was this too good to be true? Your cheeks flushed red, and you solemnly casted your gaze downwards, defeated because that was that it felt like. The sound of rejection always came with a scoff, everyone knew that. 

“Well, it was going to be a regular thing even if you had accidentally bit my dick off.” He suddenly laughed at how susceptible you were by the smallest actions, and at this moment, you were surprised that maybe this crush wasn’t so one-sided after all. He teased at your frown, kissing the corner of your mouth until it was a smile, and then prodding at your sides when you resisted. “Come on, you couldn’t possibly think this was a one-time thing.” 

“Tempting…” You snuck a head in between his thighs, reaching for a certain tool that had brought in so much pleasure and pain to your body. “I don’t know… we don’t talk much. I don’t know you that well.” 

“Don’t.” Mr. Cavill teasingly warned, stopping you by taking ahold of your wrist. Though, one step too late, as you already cupped his flaccid cock, tormenting his balls with a few tugs and squeeze of your palm as an act of revenge for your throat. “Well… then let’s get to know each other. No problem doing that, right?”

“Mm-mm, guess not.” Pursing your lips, you nodded, feeling placated by his words.

He sighed into your mouth, kissing you again, licking at the inside of your mouth, tasting your tongue and then your cheek, to soothe his selfish stain on your body with the work of his mouth. 

“First, I want to hear you say ‘thank you’ for building that PC of yours before I promise you anything.”

“Jesus, we’re still on this?”

“Yes! Do you know how long that took me?”

“I didn’t ask you to build me one—“

“God, you’re an ungrateful brat.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[cryptid-cave]

Currently thinking about a reader who, while having a full-time job and playing the part of a “real adult” pretty well for the most part, is still kind of lost and pathetic. It feels less like they’re living and more like they’re surviving, getting by on their own with just a cat for company.

Enter John Price, who’s currently on medical leave and just itching for a project. Maybe reader works at a store near his home that he shops at almost every other day, or works at the library where he goes when he needs to get out of the house. Either way, he spots this pretty little thing who clearly needs some love and guidance, preferably from a strong, gentle hand - and who better to do that than him?

Anyways, save me bossy and demanding Price with a savior complex, save me

[okiedokrie]

size kink go brr

Summary: Reader is horny, Mingyu is big, size kink go brrr

Characters/Pairing: Boyfriend!Mingyu x Reader

Genre: Smut, dirty, self-indulgent, porn without plot. (Crack, yeah, this is a crackfic smut.)

AU/Trope info: Established relationship. No thoughts, head empty, monster cock Mingyu.

Word Count: 1254

Warnings: Female reader, smut warnings under the cut

A/N: reskin of another fic i wrote for ateez bc I need to feed yall

Smut Warnings: cunnilingus, degradation and praise at the same time(?), choking, very large emphasis on the fact that reader is getting split open by what is essentially a third leg, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, creampie, reader starts crying at one point but Mingyu isnt into that, biting, reader overstimulated to the point she short-circuits. 

“Fuck, Mingyu!” You screamed as he gave a particularly harsh suck to your clit, your fingers tugging at the roots of his hair as two of his large fingers scissored you open. The dirty slurping noises come from Mingyu as he ate you like a starved man, he groans and almost buries his nose in your pelvis, breathing in your scent, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as if your pussy was the best thing in his mouth after fried chicken. 

He bucks into the mattress, dick hard and leaking at the tip in his boxers, if you kept moaning so pornographically and pulling at his hair he might just jizz in his pants. He squeezes the flesh of your thighs hard, pulling your pussy closer to his face, the man was on a mission to make you cream (or better yet, squirt) all over his face; an essential part of his skincare, at least that’s what he said.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- Mingyu! Mingyu! I’m cumming- cumming-!” You whine out, clamping your thighs around his head as you push his face closer, Mingyu welcomes your orgasm with his whole mouth by messily slurping your cum. He pulls away from your cunt once you start cringing from overstimulation, using his hand to wipe your cum off his chin.

He quickly discards his pants and boxers, “Help me get your legs over my shoulders babe.” He says as you hook your hands under your thighs, spreading out your legs as Mingyu slots himself between you, pumping his dick quickly. “Fuck, you should see how hot you look, so tiny and so willing to take everything I give you.” He said while lining his dick to your entrance. You can feel the tip of his dick prodding at your hole, you bit your lip as you brace for the entrance of his gargantuan, monster cock; I’m talking thiccc with three ‘c’s, third leg, can play baseball with the fucking moon kind of big.

You hiss as the tip of his cock breaches your entrance, his large calloused hands guide your hips onto his dick as he pushes in more. You hiss at the delicious sting of his dick, removing your hands from your legs and opting to claw at the bedsheets, Mingyu takes one takes a hand that was once guiding your hips to hold onto the headboard, the view from below was great.

You slowly take him inch by inch, and even with how wet you are the penetration still seems to burn, it took a lot more time than you think for Mingyu to bottom out, like, when I say MONSTER COCK I MEAN it. Once he does bottom out, his pelvis meeting with your ass, the tip of his angry cock pressing up against your cervix and pushing away some of your organs. 

He pulls out slowly, gauging your reaction to every vein and ridge on his cock, as he pushes back in you furrow your eyebrows, biting your lip as you feel his dick rub the entire inside of your pussy. He groans when you clench around him, nails digging into the wood of the headboard as he starts with a gentle pace, moving his hips in and out slowly at first, before speeding up the roll of his hips.

“Holy shit- Mingyu! Fuck so big, too big-!” You cry out, you really can’t be sure that’s what you said though, even if he isn’t fucking into you at an animalistic pace he still manages to fuck the brain cells out of you, you might just be babbling nonsense right now. He makes a noise between a moan and a groan, biting the inside of his cheek, “You take everything I give you- you understand?” He grunts out, speeding up again and pinning you down more, he is low enough for you to feel his hard breaths on your ear, he bites down on your shoulder in an attempt to quiet down his noises, he wants to hear you.

You grip his arms, moaning in a high pitch and babbling nothing in particular, Mingyu was fucking you stupid with his giant cock and you couldn’t be happier, his pace now was brutal, the skin of your ass stinging with how hard his pelvis has smacked into it, you could feel yourself get embarrassingly close already. Your moans turned into high-pitched cries as your orgasm was speedily approaching, you clenched around his dick to signal to him your incoming orgasm, but it never came, because suddenly Mingyu got off and pulled out, denying you your orgasm. 

You whine in frustration, making more babbling noises and doing grabby hands at Mingyu, he chuckles and bites his lip, looking up and down your naked body, from your hard and perky nipples to your abused and tender hole. He finally enters you again after making sure your climax is nowhere to be seen, this time he starts fucking into you with fervor, holding your hips up to hit the deepest part of you, “Fuuck- that’s it, take my cock like the good fucking cum slut you are-” He says, somehow the combination of his praise and degradation make you whine out, absolutely blissed out, no thoughts, head empty, only big Mingyu and his big cock destroying your insides.

You were so, so close again, but Mingyu slowed down the aggressive pace of his hips, stopping his thrusts and just grinding down slowly, you started to cry, you wanted to cum so badly but Mingyu didn’t let you for the second time already, “Fuck- Mingyu, please please please, let me cum! I’ve been so good, please-!!” Mingyu, not having the heart to deny you again, finally decides that he was going to let you cum.

He lays down, “Go on and ride me, babe, I know how much you love to bounce on my cock.” He says, so naturally, you jump up and immediately straddle his hips, sinking onto his cock quickly, he takes a sharp intake of air as you enthusiastically start rolling your hips, grinding down on him. You place your hands on his large and firm chest, then you start bouncing up and down his cock, loving the sting of his giant dick reaching the deepest parts of you. Mingyu can feel himself coming closer to his high as you clamp down on his dick like a vice, trying to milk him for his worth, he grips your hips and starts bucking up into you, you whine out and babble expletives, mouth hanging open and drooling, digging your nails into his chest as your orgasm approached you quickly.

You throw your head back and finally cum, your jaw slacking open and your eyes rolling to the back of your head, the spasming of your pussy pushes Mingyu over the edge too, sending his load straight into your womb, this action threw you violently into another orgasm, making you choke out a strangled moan as your cringe of oversensitivity.

You both pant out, you’re exhausted and sweaty, muscles sore, pussy raw, and you just want to pass out in a tub full of warm water. Mingyu shares the same sentiment, so he runs a bath for both of you to get cleaned up, and once you two are done taking a bath, you sit down on the edge of the tub while Mingyu changes the ruined sheets. He tucks you under his arm, kisses your forehead, and you both pass out.

FIN.

[amandamadeathing]

I can't find the original image to reboot and credit, but here you go.

TECH: When I analyzed Omega's DNA, I noticed an anomaly in her blood. Upon further research, she has a high volume of midichlorians."

WRECKER: What does that mean?

TECH: There was a correlation between a "high M-Count" and a Jedi's abilities using the Force.

OMEGA: Does this mean I'm a Jedi?!

TECH: Possibly. You would need extra training by a Jedi to use those skills.

ECHO: I've never noticed she has Force skills.

TECH: I thought her ability to connect with animals was an obvious manifestation of such abilities.

HUNTER: I am sensitive to vibrations. Do I have the Force?

TECH: It seems of the Kaminoans' experimental Clones, only Omega was specifically given a high M-count, which probably explains why she is so valuable to Nala Se and the Empire.

ECHO: Now we know what we're up against. Thankfully, we don't need to collaborate with any suspicious women to get this information. We must find a more secure location to hide. I will contact Rex immediately.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Dick: The Popular Kid 😉

⚣😉 A/N → @swimmingpainterhandsfreak here you are! This is going to come in 3 parts, this one for Dick, and the next two for Jason and Conner separately. Every time I tried to do them all together, I kept getting stuck. They'll all be included in each other's in some fashion, but they'll still all have their own respective parts. Also, because I couldn't find it in my heart to do a fic where Y/N had to choose. Call me a wimp, IDC! Okay maybe just a little...either way, enjoy! WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | Omegaverse | Courting Rituals | Highschool AU | Alpha Dick Grayson | Omega Male Reader | No one is a vigilante | Dick and Jason are not brothers | Dick is the stereotypical popular kid | Smut |

⚣😉 Summary → Dick, the most popular Alpha in school and one of the sweetest souls anyone will ever meet has his eyes on someone special. What's his plan?

⚣😉 Words → 7.0k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 😉

Dick Grayson? Everyone knows who Dick Grayson is.

Everyone where he went, people swooned and fawned over him like some graceful dignitary or even divine being had just crossed their paths. His charisma was magnetic, drawing others into his orbit effortlessly.

With a smile that could disarm the most skeptical and a charm that seemed to flow from him like a natural force, he moved through the corridors as if he owned them, yet always with a friendly word or a helping hand for those around him. He wasn't just admired; he was adored, a living legend among ordinary teenagers.

And yet, you’d never know it from how Dick acted around others.

Dick Grayson remained remarkably humble and grounded. Unlike many in his position, he never let the almost worshiping attention warp his character. His kindness knew no bounds, and his humility was genuine.

Despite being the adoptive son of Gotham's beloved billionaire, Bruce Wayne, and having access to all the privileges that came with it, Dick never flaunted his status or wealth. Instead, he used his influence for good, often volunteering his time to help those less fortunate in Gotham City.

His actions spoke volumes, proving that true greatness lies not in the accolades one receives but in the way one treats others. In a world where fame and fortune often breed arrogance and entitlement, Dick Grayson stood out as a shining example of grace and compassion.

Bruce was the “Billionaire Playboy,” and Dick was subsequently deemed as “Gotham’s Prince Charming.”

And every prince needed someone to share their kingdom with; Dick Grayson was no exception.

Which is why Gotham’s most prestigious high school and its student population were positively abuzz with excitement at the rumors flying around that Dick was planning to court someone. While many had their own ideas (most being hopes that Dick would choose them), mostly everyone had one certain candidate in mind that had beseeched their heart of their school’s Prince Charming.

“Bitch, are you blind? Have you not seen how hot Y/N and Dick look together?” Sasha replied.

“OMG, yeeess! Like seriously, imagine how cute their kids would be. And Dick would probably be like the world’s best dad.” Manny screeched.

“Fuck all that. Y/N needs to give a real Alpha a chance.” Kevin proclaimed, puffing his chest out.

Everyone at the lunch table eyed the athlete while trying to hold back their chuckles, “Dude, no offense. But, you’ve got nothing on Dick. I wonder how Jason and Conner are gonna react.”

“Well, the four of them have been best friends since what, like the 1st grade? I’m sure they’ll be fine with it,” Ethan said bored, scrolling through his social media feed on his phone before coming across an interesting post, “Oh, would you look at that, Dick proposed to Y/N.”

“WHAT?!” Everyone collectively screamed at the table before Ethan’s phone was snatched out of his hand so they could all see.

“Rude,” The beta scoffed.

Dick had known Y/N practically since diapers after Bruce adopted him when his parents were caught in a fatal accident. The Omega’s parents, specifically his dad, had been classmates and friends with the billionaire.

From the early days of their childhood, they went from being adolescents who were thrown in the playpen together while their parents hung out and caught up, to being thick as thieves, joined at the hip, and now serving as constant headaches for the adults. They shared everything from toys and snacks to hopes and dreams, their laughter echoing through the halls of Wayne Manor as they embarked on countless adventures together.

Their parents often liked to joke that the two of them together were like two halves of one brain cell. Which, if you knew the two, it was nothing but the truth. Even worse when their other buddies Conner Kent and Jason Todd were involved, all four growing up with each other and causing massive chaos when together.

But, for Dick and Y/N, their bond had been special since day one.

From the earliest days of their childhood, Dick and Y/N had been inseparable. Under their parents' watchful eye, they had grown up side by side, learning and exploring the world around them with the curiosity and wonderment of youth.

As they navigated the trials and tribulations of adolescence, their friendship had only deepened, strengthened by the trials they faced together. Whether it was navigating the complexities of high school or grappling with the weight of their respective legacies, they had always found solace and support in each other's company.

In Dick, Y/N found not just a friend, but a pillar of strength, someone to lean on when he felt like he couldn’t stand so strong on his own. Dick's unwavering presence provided a sense of security and stability in a world filled with uncertainty. His caring sensibility and compassionate nature offered solace in times of need, a comforting reminder that no matter what challenges they faced, they would never have to weather them alone.

When they both reached the age of puberty where their second biological statuses would present themselves, their friendship remained steadfast and strong. As Y/N's presentation as an Omega became apparent, the dynamics of their friendship did shift subtly yet significantly added more depth to their relationship.

When there were sudden whispers and sideways glances, a subtle unease had settled in the newly presented Omega, shaking his confidence that had been strong up until then. For Y/N, the change was both bewildering and overwhelming, as he grappled with the newfound scrutiny and expectations that came with his new biological status.

But amidst the uncertainty and the whispers, there was one constant: Dick Grayson. From the moment Y/N's presentation became known, Dick was there, unwavering in his support and resolute in his loyalty. He stood by Y/N's side, a steadfast presence in the face of adversity, offering a shoulder to lean on and a voice of reason in moments of doubt.

When the bullies came, as they inevitably did, it was Dick who stood between them and Y/N, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. With his new Alpha status and ever-growing popularity standing because of it, the bullying attempts were short-lived since none of their classmates wanted to commit what they considered social suicide by getting on the son of Gotham’s most beloved billionaire’s bad side.

Which, Y/N definitely considered them smart for it. Because, while Dick was always kind and pleasant to everyone, he was never a pushover and would always defend those he cared for with striking resilience.

Emphasis on the ‘striking’ part. Bruce had Dick put in self-defense lessons from the moment he could walk. An unspoken necessity considering the lives they lived.

But perhaps more than his physical prowess, it was Dick's words that offered the greatest solace to Y/N. In moments of doubt and insecurity, when the weight of expectations threatened to overwhelm him, Dick was there, reminding him that there was more to him than any title, rule, or expectation someone placed on him because of his status.

He‘d always repeat how he was strong and capable and that he didn't need the validation of others to prove his worth. And that he’d never know just how much he’d mean to others, especially the Alpha himself.

In Y/N, Dick found not just a friend, but a soulmate—a partner whose presence brought a sense of completeness to his life. As they navigated the complexities of adolescence and the challenges of growing up, Y/N became more than just a confidant; he became a source of emotional support and unwavering understanding.

When Dick grappled with the weight of his past, mourning the loss of his parents and struggling to find his place in the world, it was Y/N who offered a shoulder to lean on and a sympathetic ear to listen. With quiet strength and boundless compassion, Y/N stood by Dick's side through every tear shed and every heartache endured, providing a sense of solace and comfort that no one else could.

But Y/N offered more than just emotional support; he offered clarity and perspective in moments of confusion and doubt. With an intuitive understanding of Dick's innermost thoughts and feelings, Y/N helped him navigate the murky waters of identity and self-discovery, guiding him toward a greater sense of who he truly was.

And while Dick may have been the Alpha in their friendship, it was Y/N who kept him on his toes, challenging him to be better, to do better, in every aspect of his life. Whether it was pushing him to excel academically, encouraging him to pursue his passions, or gently nudging him towards self-improvement, Y/N was always there, helping Dick fill in wherever he was slacking and encouraging him to reach new heights.

But amidst the laughter and the shared moments of joy, there lingered an undeniable tension—a spark of something deeper and more profound. It was a connection that transcended friendship, a bond that spoke of unspoken desires and unfulfilled yearnings. In Y/N, Dick found a kindred spirit, a partner in crime, and perhaps, if fate allowed, something more.

Their relationship was a dance of longing and restraint, a delicate balance of affection and restraint that left them both yearning for more. And as they stood on the precipice of adulthood, their futures intertwined in ways they could never have imagined, Dick couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, Y/N was more than just a friend—he was the missing piece of the puzzle, the one who completed him in ways he never thought possible.

While he may have been too young to really understand everything he was feeling, he knew he didn’t want the chance of him never getting to learn more about it ever become a reality.

So, Dick went to his dad, to ask him how he could properly court his friend. Of course, Bruce, being the observant one who always liked to play detective as his friends and colleagues would point out, was not surprised at his son's request.

Truthfully, he was waiting for the day when Dick and Y/N got together and even had a little wager going on with the Omega's parents. Speaking of which,  he'd won, making sure to have Alfred remind him to collect his winnings from the L/N's when all this was said and done.

Actually, he figured why not collect his winnings as soon as possible. Being a bit of a traditionalist, something he got from his own father, Bruce advised his son the best first thing for him to do was to get Y/N's parents' blessing before he committed to anything else.

So, while Y/N was busy hanging out with some friends for an after-school club, Dick and Bruce made their way over to the L/N residence, where the billionaire smugly watched his son ask the two males if he could court their son. Of course, they gave their blessings with joy, but they didn't miss the subtle smirk on their friend's face as Y/N's dad went to grab his wallet.

Bruce took Dick to the stores to find Y/N a special gift, something that would symbolize his commitment and devotion to his feelings towards the Omega, but would also be an accurate representation of them. The younger male was torn between the many options, unsure of what would be the best choice.

When his eyes landed on a shining, silver chain with a sapphire pendant cut into the shape of a bird, Dick knew this was the one. He made sure to wear it for about a week, using his favorite colognes frequently so it was covered in his scent.

Then, right before lunch, he'd presented the gift to the Omega in the hallway of their school with many of their classmates as witnesses.

"What's this?" Y/N asked, looking down at the velvet box Dick had handed him.

"Remember that history project we had for Mr. Kari's class, and you chose to do one on the ancient Kryptonian society and all its mythological lessons," Dick explained, smiling softly as the memories flooded back.

"I remember."

"Well, I happened to be out shopping the other day–"

"Uh huh, I'll choose to believe that,'" Y/N eyed him suspiciously, making the Alpha chuckle.

"And, I saw this necklace," Dick continued, taking the box from the Omega's hand and opening it.

When the male caught sight of the jewel inside, his breath hitched, unable to take his eyes off the shimmering blue gem.

"It reminded me of your research on the mythological lore of the two birds," Dick explained, pulling the necklace from its cushion, "Flamebird and–"

"Nightwing," Y/N finished his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Dick smiled, "I guess the jeweler was a fan of the story. But, I remember you talking about their relationship, how they fell in love and were mates, destined to always be reborn and find each other, and it made me think of us, and how I don't ever want to think of life without you."

Take notes folks. Dude's got game.

"Y/N, will you accept this token and allow me the honor to court you, with the hope of becoming your Nightwing?"

Dick knew the Omega was going to later berate him and possibly hit him over the head with a pillow or something for making him cry at school. He liked to refer to himself as an emotional thug, something Jason accurately always called bullshit on.

"You're lucky you're cute you jerk," Y/N sniffled, hugging the Alpha tightly, "Of course, I will."

"Thank you, beautiful," Dick whispered, hugging the male back, ignoring the whistles and cheers of their classmates.

Y/N turned so his back was facing the Alpha, allowing him to clasp the necklace around his neck, the jewel resting near his heart. Dick smiled, wrapping his arms around the male and nuzzling his nose against the other's neck.

"Ugh, I'm calling it. They're so gonna get married and have a bunch of model babies." Manny gushed.

"I can't believe Y/N didn't realize sooner Dick was into him. How oblivious can you be?" Sasha asked.

"He's an Omega. It's a blessing and a curse. Blessing because they're usually the most beautiful and have the best genes. Curse because they're the most clueless and naive. If an Alpha wants to fuck, they're the easiest to seduce." Kevin replied.

"You're a pig. You're lucky no one has tried to castrate you yet." Ethan deadpanned.

"I'm not wrong."

"Still a pig, and you definitely are," Kara replied.

"Whatever. I still think Dick is a weak choice of an Alpha—"

"You're just mad because Y/N didn't go with you to homecoming."

"I'm not—shut up, Ethan! All I'm saying is that Dick is not the ideal choice for someone like Y/N. He needs an Alpha who's strong, can put him in his place when needed, and doesn't put up with his shit. Not a rich pretty boy who's spineless and soft. I'd even say Conner would be a better choice for him, not before myself though," Kevin stated, puffing his chest out a bit.

"Yeah, uh huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, babes," Manny said, rolling his eyes.

"Just wait and see. When this ends in disaster, and Y/N realizes Dick can't protect or provide for him like a true Alpha can, he'll come running straight into my arms," Kevin said confidently, smirking.

"Maybe this is why you never get invited to Dick's parties anymore and always have to count on getting in with the rest of the football team," Kara mocked.

Kevin rolled his eyes, "Whatever I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time. Yeah, Dick's cool and nice and all that, but that's only going to get him so far. Plus, all the expensive gifts in the world don't compare to the value of a real Alpha," Kevin said while flexing his arms under his varsity jacket.

"Yeah, a real Alpha like you?" Sasha snickered.

"Exactly," Kevin smirked.

"Uh huh, sure. Keep dreaming, sweetie," Manny laughed.

He along with many others would indeed have to keep dreaming. Dick Grayson was not one to do things halfway.

The teen Alpha spared no expense when courting Y/N, taking him on extravagant dates, and spoiling him with lavish gifts. Of course, much of this was being spent on Bruce's coin, but the billionaire didn't mind if it meant he got to see his son happy.

Y/N also knew how Dick was the perfect gentleman (having an English butler who knew everything about being prim and proper helped a lot), but what he was seeing from the Alpha now was a completely different level of chivalry.

He was pulling out the chair for him if he wasn't opening the door for him or offering his coat. If he wasn't paying for the food or dessert, he was giving him his own. If he wasn't helping him into the car, he was holding his hand and making sure his seat belt was fastened.

Y/N was practically never allowed to pay for anything while in Dick's presence, or even in moments when he wasn't. When Y/N accidentally shattered his phone, his parents didn't even need to call the store to order a replacement cause Dick had gone ahead and ordered Y/N the latest new phone.

Dick wasn't just spending Bruce's money willy-nilly. Since Y/N accepted his courting date, Dick got a job just so he could use that extra money to spend on Y/N. Bruce just tended to fund the really expensive dates and gestures.

It gets to a point where Y/N has to think about his words carefully around the Alpha because, within a span of twenty to thirty minutes, it would be presented to him with a bright, adorable smile that made it impossible to be mad at him. The Omega was craving Wendys for lunch and without thinking about it said it out loud. On his way to lunch with a couple of friends, he was confused because Dick wasn't with him since they always walked together from lunch.

But, his sudden disappearance was immediately explained when after arriving at the cafeteria, he turned to see Dick walking in with bags from Wendys.

"Really?" Y/N eyed him with an amused raised brow as the Alpha set the food and drinks on the table.

"What?" Dick responded, an innocent look on his face.

That became more of their routine, even in situations where money was not involved. If Y/N wanted something, he wouldn't need to say a word, and Dick would do it.

One of Y/N's favorite things in the world was Alfred's baking, especially his cookies. On days when the Omega was feeling up to it or was just down in the dumps about something, Dick would surprise him with the cookies. Of course, he was paying for the ingredients and materials and just having Alfred do the baking, but Y/N didn't need to know that.

Sometimes, Y/N would get into a depressive funk about something and would start forgetting to take care of himself. His parents knew how to handle it, but nowadays, they just called Dick, and in under an hour, the Alpha was at their house helping Y/N get back on his feet. Helping him clean his room, organize things around him, and get himself back on track.

If you thought they were inseparable before, well, that was nothing compared to now.

Dick and Y/N were practically joined at the hip, always together, and always touching. Holding hands, shoulders, thighs, waist, etc.

And just as much as there was a slight change in Dick's behavior (in a positive manner of speaking), in how he treated the Omega, there was also a slight shift in his attitude towards others when it came to him as well. It wasn't obvious at first, but to those who paid attention or knew more about them, many could also see how much more protective Dick had grown of Y/N.

Don't be misled, Dick never lost his friendly and kind attitude with others. But, it was easy to see the Alpha tended to become a bit more on guard when with the Omega and they weren't solely around family like their parents or Conner and Jason.

Dick was always at Y/N's side or close by, ready to jump in at a moment's notice if he noticed even the slightest hesitation or uncomfortableness from his Omega. Which, no one would actively fault the Alpha for it, knowing it was typical for Alphas to become a bit more territorial and protective in any matter regarding the Omega they were courting.

And it didn't help that their school was full of prideful, jealous, and horny Alphas along with envious Betas and bitter Omegas. Even more considering they were all hormonal teenagers as well.

When it comes to a courting ritual, there is no greater challenge than competing with other potential suitors.

Since Dick currently held the title of one the most popular Alphas in school, if not the most popular one, mostly every Omega and a significant number of Betas wanted him as their boyfriend. But, since his eyes were on Y/N, that made the Omega in question the recipient of many fake, cheery smiles tinged with jealousy and obvious, hateful glares.

Which, to be honest, he didn't know which one unsettled him more.

On the other end, there were no shortages of Alphas and would-be suitors who saw and wanted Y/N as their mate. And with Dick suddenly courting the Omega, he'd pretty much made himself an open target, even if the majority of them were smart enough to know the consequences.

Dick didn't blame them, of course. Even though he always thought of his Omega as attractive, handsome, beautiful, and every other adjective in a thesaurus, he could clearly see how much Y/N had grown into himself since their early years as teenagers.

Y/N went from being one of the many everyone picked on and pushed around, to being one of the few most sought-after Omegas in the entire school. While puberty could be the literal curse of inconvenience and interruption, there was no arguing that it had its benefits as well.

And many would attest to those benefits personally. Not too much though since they knew Dick was a black belt in martial arts. But, there were always those who thought of themselves as untouchable and would try to test the waters, not realizing the depth of the ocean they were about to dive into.

"Oh, hey, Y/N. You're looking pretty hot today. Maybe we should hang out later. Grab some food or something," An Alpha said, leaning against his locker, his arm blocking his exit.

"Uh, thanks, but no thanks, Mike," Y/N politely declined, trying to pass the guy's arm, but the Alpha wouldn't budge.

"Aw, c'mon, baby. Don't be like that. You know, I could show you a good time. Better than what you've ever experienced. I could treat you right," The male purred, leaning in closer.

"I'm sure you could, but I'm not interested, sorry. Now, if you would excuse me, I have class," Y/N said, trying once again to push the other away.

"Why are you playing hard to get, huh? We both know that's not who you are, baby," Mike replied, grabbing the Omega's wrist and pushing him against the lockers.

"I said, 'no,'" Y/N glared, pushing the guy off him, "So, leave me alone."

"Aww, don't be like that. Come on, let's go have some fun, baby," Mike smirked, pulling the Omega into him.

"Mike, stop," Y/N said, struggling in his grip.

"Excuse me."

Both turned to see Dick, the Alpha's gaze sharp, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Dick! Hey, man. What's up?" Mike greeted, letting go of the Omega.

"Not much, just getting my books for next period out of my boyfriend's locker," Dick answered, moving to stand beside Y/N, putting a protective arm around his shoulder, "How about you?"

"Oh, uh, nothing much. Just hanging out. I was actually going to head to the library, so I'll see you later," The male tried to quickly excuse himself, only to turn and bump into Conner and Jason who were both standing there with their arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Going somewhere, Mike?" Conner asked, stepping forward.

"Yeah, man. Why the rush? You didn't seem like you were in a hurry a few minutes ago," Jason added, taking his place beside the other.

"No, no. I was just heading to the library. Need to catch up on some studying but uh, I'll catch you guys later," Mike said, but was once again stopped by the two Alphas.

"Why don't we walk with you? Make sure you make it there safely. It's the least we can do, right?" Jason said, a nervous look painted on the other's face.

"You wouldn't mind, would you?" Conner asked, an almost sinister smile on his lips.

"No, no. Of course not," Mike sighed, defeated.

"Well, then. Lead the way," Jason said, motioning for the guy to continue, watching him as he walked away.

"You're coming with us, right, Dickie?" Jason asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Yeah, I can't let you two have all the fun," Dick smirked, before turning to Y/N, "Mind taking both our books to class, babe? I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Of course not," Y/N nodded, giving the three a small wave as they turned the corner.

The Omega sighed, shaking his head, "Bunch of idiots," He said fondly, walking to his next class.

No one was surprised when Mike turned up at school the next day sporting a black eye and plenty of bruises to match. The three Alphas would deny anything, but everyone could guess what happened.

"Still think Dick can't protect or provide like a real Alpha," Manny asked Kevin with a mocking attitude after they heard about the incident with Mike.

"Shut up, dude," Kevin glared, grumbling.

Dick would continue his courting, making sure to put the fear of God into any other Alpha who dared to lay a hand on his Omega. He was determined to prove his worth, not just to the Omega, but also to anyone else who doubted him.

After everything the Alpha had done, Y/N couldn't imagine anyone else better for him. Sure, Dick wasn't a traditional, stereotypical, and cliche Alpha. He was more on the reserved and kinder side of the spectrum.

But, that's what made him special. He was someone who could make you laugh, even on your worst days, and could comfort you without needing to say a word. When he wasn't the class clown, he was the one everyone could count on and rely on.

His patience was endless, his kindness boundless, and his loyalty unwavering. And, not to forget, the dude was super fucking hot.

Just as much as Y/N was emotionally and mentally attracted to Dick, not that he was looking at the Alpha in a different line since the beginning of this courting ritual, the physical attraction he felt was almost overwhelming.

Dick may not have been on any sports teams, but he might as well have been, cause the dude was fucking ripped. He had abs for days and a backside and thighs to die for. Not to mention, the muscles in his arms.

Y/N could feel himself salivate whenever he had the pleasure of seeing the Alpha undressed and was very lucky no one had ever seen him drooling over his best friend. And the same went for Dick, who'd always been attracted to Y/N but only had just recently started acting on those feelings.

And what did you get when you had two hormonal, in-love teenagers?

Two horny fuckers who couldn't keep their hands to themselves.

"We're going to be late," Y/N said, panting against the door of the janitor's closet they were in, his shirt discarded and pants unbuckled with Dick kneeling on the floor in front of him enjoying himself immensely on the Omega's arousal.

"Don't care," Dick murmured, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through the younger's body.

"Someone's gonna find us," Y/N moaned, gripping the Alpha's hair tightly.

"They won't," Dick hummed, his tongue swirling around as he continued his erotic ministrations.

"Fuck," Y/N whimpered, his hips bucking forward.

"Any louder and you'll be the ones who get us caught," Dick teased, pressing a finger toward the Omega's slicked hole which pushed them over the edge.

"I hate you," Y/N panted, leaning his head against the door, his eyes closed as he tried to calm his racing heart.

"No, you don't. You love me," Dick smiled, the area around his mouth shiny with Y/N's arousal and cum as he stood up and pressed a kiss against the Omega's cheek.

"Ew! Dick, gross," Y/N whined, wiping and cheek and pushing the Alpha back.

"What? It came from your body! That's basically kissing you," Dick chuckled, fixing his clothes.

"That's not how it works and you know it. You're disgusting. I'm not doing this with you anymore," Y/N stated, cleaning himself up.

That was a lie.

Y/N found himself in a role-reversal situation as he was on his knees, forcing the Alpha against the wall while bobbing his head up and down on the Alpha's cock with unforgiving energy.

"Fuck, baby. She was only giving me her notes for the physics exam," Dick groaned, his hand fisting the Omega's hair.

"I'm sure," Y/N growled, his teeth lightly scraping along the length, his mouth still working, "That's probably why she was trying to scent mark you too, right?"

"She wasn't–shit, babe. Fucking hell, that's it. Right there," Dick moaned, his hips thrusting forward.

"Wasn't what? Going to try and get you to knot her in the bathroom stall after the test? Cause, I'm pretty sure that's what her plan was, right?" Y/N seethed, his hand pumping the Alpha's shaft, his tongue flicking the slit.

"Geez, who knew you could get so jealous," Dick chuckled, his breathing ragged.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't think I won't bite this thing off," Y/N threatened, his teeth lightly scraping the flesh.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But, you don't have to worry, alright? There's no one else but you, Y/N. No matter how many Omegas try and throw themselves at me, my eyes will always be on you. Only you," Dick promised, caressing the other's cheek.

Y/N only gave him a look before his mouth was engulfing the Alpha's cock, sucking and licking the throbbing appendage while squeezing at the base to prevent him from cumming.

"Fucking hell, baby. I'm sorry, okay. I won't talk to her again. Promise," Dick whimpered, his orgasm feeling like he was going to collapse if he didn't cum down the Omega's throat soon.

"Damn right, you won't. This here belongs to me. Understand?" Y/N stated his tone firm and commanding while gripping the hard cock in his hand harder for emphasis.

"Yes. Shit, yes. Please, Y/N," Dick begged, his legs starting to shake.

"Who's is it, Dickie?"

"Yours,"

"Who's the only one who gets to taste, touch, or smell this?"

"Only you,"

"Good," Y/N purred, his tongue running to the shaft and its leaking head.

"Oh my god," Dick moaned, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

"You're all mine, Dick Grayson," Y/N declared, his lips wrapping around the swollen head, sucking and licking the precum.

"Yours. All yours, beautiful. Only you," Dick whimpered, his hips rocking gently, his eyes rolling back as he came into the Omega's mouth.

Y/N greedily swallowed, his hands moving to squeeze and massage the Alpha's balls, milking him dry. Dick stared down at the sight of the Omega with his cock still inside his mouth, the male's cheeks hollowed out as he sucked.

"Tastes so good," Y/N hummed, his tongue lapping up the remaining liquid.

"Jesus, babe," Dick groaned, pulling the Omega off the ground and onto his feet.

"What?" Y/N asked innocently, smiling at the Alpha.

"Nothing," Dick smiled, kissing him, "You're just amazing, that's all."

They couldn't get enough of each other, continuing their sneaking off to empty classrooms and bathrooms, sometimes even the gym showers and the locker rooms. They would usually do their "business" in the middle of the day, right after lunch or in the morning.

They would try to do it at each other's house, but would constantly get interrupted by their parents, who more often than not knew what their kids were getting up to. They were teenagers themselves once and didn't want to risk the young Alpha and Omega making a mistake.

It's why neither was allowed to hang out in the other's room without the door open. They used to sleep in the same bed when they were younger, but after they presented and especially started becoming a couple, both Y/N's parents and Dick's dad had to lay down some strict rules.

Didn't mean they would listen though.

"Dick, stop," Y/N whimpered, his hands gripping Dick's forearms as he laid with his back against the Alpha's shirtless chest, his hips rocking into the Alpha's fingers.

"Fuck, baby. So fucking wet," Dick groaned, his fingers thrusting into the Omega's slick, heated hole.

"Dick, your dad or Alfred could hear us and walk in at any moment," Y/N panted, his legs quivering.

"You should've thought about that before you teased me in the car," Dick whispered, his fingers curling and pressing against the spot that had the Omega crying out.

"Fuck!" Y/N whimpered, his fist flying up to his mouth and biting down.

"Yeah, that's it, babe. Stay quiet as you can," Dick husked, his pace increasing, his fingers stretching the Omega's hot walls.

"Mmph," Y/N moaned, his head falling back against the Alpha's shoulder, his hips rocking against the other's hand.

"That's it, baby. Just like that. Feel so good, babe. Gonna ruin this tight little hole of yours," Dick purred, his free hand tweaking and tugging at the Omega's sensitive nipples.

"Dick, please. Wanna cum," Y/N cried, his hand reaching behind and gripping the Alpha's neck.

"Then, cum. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers, baby," Dick grunted, his fingers twisting and curling.

"Shit, shit, shit," Y/N chanted, his voice muffled as he bit down on his fist, his orgasm ripping through him, his cum coating his stomach.

"Hey dudes– OH MY FUCKING GOD!"

Both males froze, their heads snapping towards the door, their eyes widening as they saw Jason and Conner standing there, their mouths hanging open.

"Guys! What the fuck!" Dick immediately grabbed his comforter to cover Y/N.

"Dude! We didn't need to see that! What the fuck!" Jason shouted, his hands covering his face.

"This is the worst day ever," Conner mumbled, his eyes closed and shaking his head.

"Get the fuck out!" Dick growled, throwing a pillow at the two.

"Don't have to tell us twice!"

Both boys immediately turned around and ran out of the room, closing the door shut.

"Those two idiots. I'm gonna kill them," Dick grumbled, his arms wrapping protectively around the Omega.

"Well, we should've been more careful," Y/N said, sighing as he still was coming down from his orgasm and the shock of their friends walking in on them.

"Yeah, well. You were the one who decided to tease me the entire car ride," Dick defended.

"Whatever, I'm taking a shower. I feel sticky and gross," Y/N huffed, removing himself from the Alpha's grasp and heading to the bathroom.

"I'm joining you," Dick stated, getting up and following him.

"You're insatiable," Y/N shook his head, a smile on his lips.

"Only for you, baby," Dick winked, shutting the door behind him.

He was indeed insatiable, and it only got worse when they finally did the entire deed, Dick craving every touch and drop of the Omega he could get. It'd get even worse when his instincts and his jealous and territorial side would show when another Alpha would stupidly try to make a move on his Omega.

Now, that Dick had gotten a full taste of the Omega, outside and in, no one could compare. And the thought of someone else touching his Omega, made his blood boil.

Y/N's thighs had trembled as he lay back against the leather back seats of Dick's sports car, the Alpha's large firm, and sweaty body hovering over him as he snapped his hips forwards, inserting his full length inside the Omega. The car rocked back and forth with the force of his thrusts, making the tinted windows fog and preventing anyone from seeing the two teens inside.

"Mine. All mine," Dick growled, his nails digging into the Omega's plush hips, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing.

"Fuck, Dick," Y/N whined, his legs spreading wider, allowing the Alpha to reach deeper, his thrusts unforgiving.

Dick kissed the inside of the Omega's neck, bringing his sweaty body closer when he could feel it sliding up and retreating from his harsh movements. He pressed Y/N harder into the seats as he increased his pace, causing the Omega's moans and noises to reach a higher volume.

"Don't run from me," Dick grunted, his lips capturing the other's in a searing kiss as fucked into him at an even rougher pace.

He nudged Y/N's thighs apart with his hips that attempted to close from reflex, the Omega's body jolting with every deep, forceful thrust. Y/N let out a strained moan, his nails scratching down the Alpha's broad and muscular back as he was fucked like a slut, praying in the back of his mind none of their classmates would notice it steamy and rocking vehicle.

"No one else gets to have you. No one but me. You're mine, Y/N. Always have and always will be. Understand?" Dick's teeth scraped along the male's scent gland as he felt himself getting closer to his finish, "Say it. Say you're mine," He growled, his hands gripping the Omega's ass, pushing his legs further apart, and holding him in place, his cock drilling into the younger's abused and leaking hole.

"Yours," Y/N sobbed, his tears running down his cheeks, his face flushed red, his heart pounding as he was overwhelmed with pleasure, his body on fire, "All yours, Dick. Forever and always."

Dick smiled at the proclamation, eyeing the blew pendant necklace laying against the Omega's sweaty skin right over his heart, his chest puffing out, pride swelling within him, "My Omega," He purred, before delivering a few more thrusts, slamming into the Omega with a loud groan as he shot his load into the condom.

The pair lay there, panting, trying to regain their breath. Dick had his head tucked against the Omega's neck, his arms wrapped around him tightly, his knot keeping him connected.

"Are you satisfied now?" Y/N breathed, his eyes closed, his hands resting on the Alpha's broad and sweaty back.

"For now," Dick answered, smiling, pressing a kiss against the male's skin.

"I swear if anyone saw us and spread this around the school because you got a little jealous–"

"A 'little' jealous? I was not a little jealous. That guy was all over you and wouldn't take no for an answer. I had to step in," Dick defended.

"We were talking, Dick. He was asking me for notes about the history final. Not every Alpha or Beta that talks to me is going to be another Mike," Y/N explained.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut up and cuddle me. I need affection," Dick pouted, snuggling the Omega.

Y/N chuckled, rolling his eyes, but did as asked, wrapping his arms and legs around the Alpha.

"There, better?"

"Much," Dick smiled with another soft kiss to the Omega's chest, right by his necklace.

"Good. Now, when are we getting you the necklace to match mine?" Y/N asked, his fingers tracing the lines of the muscles on the Alpha's back.

"Patience, baby," Dick chuckled, his hand rubbing up and down the smooth and soft body under him.

"Don't tell me to be patient," Y/N grumbled, pouting, "If you're Nightwing then I have to be Flamebird, which means you need a necklace that looks like a Flamebird. We're a mated pair, remember?"

"Oh I remember," Dick smirked, flexing his dick inside the Omega's warm walls.

"Fuck. Don't do that," Y/N whined, his legs tightening around the Alpha's waist, his back arching off the bed.

"Sorry, baby," Dick apologized, not sounding sorry at all.

"You're not," Y/N rolled his eyes.

"Nope," Dick grinned, his tongue licking up the Omega's neck.

Dick continued courting Y/N throughout the rest of the school year. As expected, they were each other's date to the prom where they proceeded to have hot, crazy sex at their hotel, and then came graduation.

To no one's surprise, other than maybe Y/N's, Dick proposed at their commencement ceremony, in front of everyone, the whole school watching. The Omega said yes, of course, and they were congratulated and cheered by their classmates and faculty.

Their parents were surprised, not expecting the couple to take the next step so quickly. They were happy for their sons, of course, but wanted them to be sure. Dick and Y/N agreed to both wait till after college to actually get married, fine with just being fiances' for now.

Someone had caught a picture of them kissing after Dick proposed and replaced the photo they had initially of them in the school's cutest couple section of their class yearbooks. The bunch of saps.

It was a love story straight out of the books—wait a second...

...

Nah.

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

🏍️ | Jason: The Rebel | 🏍️ • 🏈 | Conner: The Jock | 🏈

[imwetforyourmom]

MATT STURNIOLO

nsfw : ꩜

angst : 𖤓

fluff/other : ꕥ

personal favorite : ☁︎

Jealous 𖤓ꕥ

.. in which; you comment under Chris’ ig post, and Matt gets jealous.

Whats wrong baby? ꩜ꕥ

.. in which; when Matt comes home stressed and rude, you help ease some stress off him

Want ‘em inside you? ꩜

.. in which; after a compliment, you find yourself being fingered in public

Heading for the door 𖤓 pt2 𖤓ꕥ

.. in which; when seeing your ex at the mall and having a simple conversation (with flirting) destroys things with Matt and you.

Yours ꩜𖤓

.. in which; when you forget who you belong to, Matts quick to remind you

People pleaser hcs 𖤓ꕥ

.. in which; how does Matt react to people walking all over his people pleaser girlfriend?

I wanna be yours ꕥ

.. in which; what Matt might think is unrequieted love, isnt actually unrequited at all

Good for you ꩜

.. in which; when you surprise your boyfriend in sexy lingerie

Numb to the feeling ꩜ ☁︎

.. in which; when Matt feels numb, and drugs dont be seeming to do the trick, he calls you for help

Down your throat ꩜

.. in which; Matt walks in on you, and discovers a kink of yours

Meet her ꕥ

.. in which; when Matt introduces his girlfriend to his viewers.

Why so shy? ꩜ ꕥ

.. in which; when Matt notices how flustered you get when he talks to you.. so why not use that to his advantage?

Flirty Matt hcs ꕥ

.. in which; the times Matts flirted with you before and after dating.

Being babied by Matt hcs ꕥ꩜

.. in which; when Matt babys you

Lights gone 𖤓☁︎

.. in which; when you have to leave for summer, forcing you to leave the love of your life on some stupid beach

Cuddled by Matt hcs ꕥ

.. in which; when Matt insists to always cuddle

Goodbye kiss ꕥ

.. in which; a simple, sweet, goodbye kiss cant turn into anything more.. right?

Touchy Matt hcs ꕥ ꩜

in which; when Matt cannot stop touching you.

Text messages ꕥ꩜

in which; conversations over text with Matt.

Series

Not her pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6

.. in which; Matt meets a new girl, Amelia, and suddenly Y/n is no longer his favorite girl (finished)

[liege-of-the-bees]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Riverdale (TV 2017) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jughead Jones/Ethel Muggs, Jughead Jones & Ethel Muggs Characters: Jughead Jones, Ethel Muggs Additional Tags: Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Recreational Drug Use, Trans Jughead Jones, Transfem Jughead Jones, Lesbian Jughead Jones, Riverdale (TV) Season 6, Rivervale era, It's bunker time, Jughead and Ethel can be read as either platonic or romantic, Thus I have tagged them as both, riverdale spoilers, (It's set in Season 6 but I reference stuff from across the show. This includes late Season 7.), Not Beta Read, POV Second Person Summary:

Jughead and Ethel spend one night of eternity in the bunker. This night in particular leads to some revelations on both sides.

Rated M for drug use (Weed)

[evie-sturns]

needed this - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a month-long business trip, you finally return home to your boyfriend matt. you find out he hasn't came since you left, obviously you have to help him.

warnings: smut, very sub!matt, overstimulating, swearing.

-------------------°°••....••°°--------------------

i've been away with work for just over a month, meaning matt's had the house to himself, i'm finally arriving home this evening.

7:54pm

i twist the key into the white door, pushing it open. the scent i'm so used to filling my nose. "matt!" i call out, placing my bag down by the front door and bending over to unstrap my heels.

"i missed you." he says with a grin, speed walking up to me and wrapping his arms around me. i bury my face into his chest, "how was it?" he asks with a wide smile.

"it was good! how was the empty house?" i say, grabbing matts hand and dragging him upstairs.

"lonley as shit without chris and matt aswell, they've been filming with other creators for ages." matt says with a sigh as we walk into our shared bedroom.

"oh yeah, i saw that tara and shit meetup with them" i say, pulling my minidress off over my head.

i can feel matts eyes laying on me as i scavenge through our closet for anything comfier to wear, giving i've been in dresses for 5 weeks straight.

matt clears his throat, "movie?"

i nod, "yeah, yeah just pick whatever you want sweetheart."

matt flicks on the tv at the end of our bed, i unclasp my bra, letting it fall to my feet. i grab one one matts shirt, pulling it down past my head,

i jump into bed beside matt, my leg resting across his waist and lap as i cuddle to his side. the netflix intro blares through the room

"jesus christ!!" i laugh, grabbing the remote and turning down the volume. "my bad." matt says with a smile, shaking his head and pulling up the white fuzzy blanket over us.

-

8:23pm

i shift the leg which is laying across him, i feel matt grow tense under me, "you okay?" i whisper, looking up at him. "yeah- no yeah- yeah no i'm good." matt stammers, i laugh slightly,

"matt whats wrong?" i say with a giggle, "no- no yeah, shit i'm fine." he says again, his cheeks a deep red as he fidgets with his rings.

"matt." i say with a serious tone. "stop!- i'm fine!" he says, getting worked up.

i sit up in bed abrubtly, the blanket falling off my body, i look down at matts crotch,

hes hard.

he yanks the blanket up over his lap, i pull it back down and straddle his thighs, staring into his eyes. "why are you hard?" i ask quietly, "i'm not!" he instantly replies, his eyes drifting away from mine.

i palm him through his sweatpants, squeezing lightly, he lets out a breathless groan. "so.. what was that?" i tease him,

"i dont know? just your leg moving.." matt says, rubbing his eyes with his fists,

"you got hard from my leg?" i laugh slightly, he nods.

"thats okay." i assure him, reaching for his waistband and toying with it, his breathing intensifies quickly, "why are you so sensitive?" i ask, "just been different since you left a month ago" matt says quietly

"different like how?" i push,

"haven't- you know.." he sighs, "i don't know actually." i reply cheekily.

he doesn't reply, his eyes fixed on my hand which is resting just under his waistband. "tell me the last time you touched yourself" i say, matt goes redder somehow.

"month ago." he says, barely audible "thats okay." i say, tugging his waistband down. "please.." matt whines slightly, "i know." i say, pulling his waistband down to his mid-thighs.

"you want this?" i ask, lifting my self off his thighs to pull my panties off, "jesus, obviously." he says, i shoot him a 'watch your tone' look and he instantly goes quiet.

i sit up, hovering myself above matts tip, which is now red. his hands stay by his sides, i'm 95% sure his brain is so fogged he doesn;t know what to do with them anymore.

i grab his cold hands, placing them on my waist. i stay sitting above his tip for a few more seconds, its tempting to see how worked up i can get matt. he trys to guide me down, but i resist.

"please." he says, "matthew, stop whining and tell me what the fuck you want." i say, "please, you know what i want" matt says shyly, i stay still, waiting for him to practically beg.

"ride me, please?" he breathes out, i can see his stomach jolting up and down from his desperate breaths underneath his white sweater.

i nod, moving my hair to one side and slowly sinking onto matt, he squeezes his eyes shut, his hands dropping from my waist and balling up the white fuzzy blanket. i slowly take more of his length before bottoming out, sitting comfortably on his dick as matt lets out small whimpers

"you alright?" i ask, grabbing his hand which is squeezing the sheets.

he nods his head, "look at me, matt." i say, he opens his eyes, letting in small breaths. "calm. down." i say, he nods again as his top teeth sink into his pink bottom lip.

i slowly start to bounce on him, his eyes stay fixed on me as i quicken my pace. i throw my head back as i balance my hands on his thighs behind me.

"close- really close." matt squeezes out, "no, not yet matt." i tell him.

"i can't, oh my fuck-" he whines, his grip on my waist tightening, the cold metal of his rings pressing against the warmth of my skin.

"you can, and will." i say, placing a hand on his stomach to balance myself as i continue to ride him. he lets out soft groans as he throws his head back into the pillows, his hair flopping.

"your okay, your doing so well." i say with a small moan as I repeatedly hit my g-spot.

suddenly i feel matt release, coating my insides. matt rubs his eyes "did i tell you you could do that?" i say, looking into matts eyes.

"im sorry, shit- i'm so sorry." he rambles, instead of pulling off him, i chase my own orgasm. he groans from overstimulation, "too much, sensitive-" he says,

"is it my fault you came early?" i say as i sit down on his cock, rubbing my clit against his pelvic bone.

he shakes his head, somewhat arching his back off the bed as his hands dig into my waist. i let my head falll foward as i look down at matts hands,

"fuck it hurts." matt says,

we have an established safe word, he knows he can use it whenever he needs, but he's not.

"you want me to stop?" i ask, he pauses for a moment before letting out a breathless "no. fuck please dont-"

i continue to bounce on his length, i feel the pit in my stomach growing as my cheeks flush, matt has mutiple tears falling down his cheeks.

"i think i'm close-" matt says, my eyebrows twist with a small laugh "again?" i question, "yeah- shit." matt groans .

i clench around him, i think thats enough for matt to finish. the knot in my stomach snaps as i feel matt finish again. i collapse down onto matts chest as i attempt to catch my breath, he reaches down and pulls out of me with a wince.

"you okay? did i hurt you?" i say as i rest my face on matts shoulder.

"yeah- no im fine, needed that a lot." he says, his fingers tracing mindless shapes on my back.

after a handful of minutes i sit up on matts lower stomach before lifting myself off him, stepping down onto the plush of our carpet. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up." i say, wiping matts face with one hand, matt stays still on the bed.

"matt? stand up" i say, matt has a small smile on his face, he wipes his eyes before starting.

"i cant.. stand."

----------------

[stevie-petey]

episode one: the hellfire club

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–” “Boobies! It’s not a big deal–” You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.” “Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!”  You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.” 

Summary: el writes to you as if youre her husband away at war, you debate the intricate nature of liking boobies with robin and steve, lucas is your beloved while eddie munson is your sworn enemy, steve accidentally exposes your (horribly hidden) daddy issues, dustin is an angsty teen, and jonathan really loves to drop emotional bombshells on you. can you believe this all happens in one day ? lol cheers to senior year !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of abuse, allusions to bullying, trauma lol

Words: 13.5k (wrote half of this in one day)

Before you swing in: SHES HERE !!!! SEASON 4 !!! this season terrifies me. i spent so much time outlining and making sure it was perfect. i have some changes i want to do, some ideas, and its scary because we dont have season 5 yet and i hate messing with canon ,,, alas: here she is. my baby. my beloved. quick fun fact: theres a scene in here ive had planned since season 1 so .... enjoy !

–

March 21st, 1986.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on New York University! Joyce tells me that it is a very good college, and everyone was extremely happy when Jonathan told us the news. He even had a smile on his face! It has been a very long time since I have seen him smile, especially without that weird smell on him (am I allowed to tell you about the strange plants that Jonathan seems to like now? He says that you cannot find out about it, but friends don’t lie and he is your bestest friend). 

I asked Will about it, and he says that Jonathan now smells because he misses you. If you ask me, I think that Jonathan smells because he is scared. We are still waiting for his college letter, afterall. I know you want to go to school with him, but so does Nancy. Is it possible to go to two colleges? Anyways, it must be a lot of pressure, even more with all the waiting we have to do, but Joyce told us that sometimes colleges take a long time to respond. 

While I am positive that Jonathan will figure it all out soon, he pretends he does not care. But he is a very bad liar. He was very upset that Nancy could no longer visit us in California. Will was bummed too, but he was more sad that it was not you who was visiting. Joyce says that the Byers boys were born to miss you, and I think she is right. 

I also miss you. I am still bummed I never went to school with you. I bet Mike is over the moon to have you with him for high school, Dustin and Lucas also. How is Max? Is she still sad? I know school has been hard for her. I will admit that it is hard for me, too. While I am good at maths, and my grammar is getting better, I am still unsure when to use conjunctions or why Angela does not like me. Will tells me to ignore her, but I want to be her friend. She is nice to everyone else. It confuses me that she is not nice to me.

A lot about California confuses me. The flowers here are different, and sometimes I forget that I cannot go and visit you. I miss the smell of Bookstrordinary (did I spell it right?) and your cookies. Please send more as soon as you can. Will and I are almost dying to taste them again! Mike says he will try to bring some on the plane, but I am scared he will be told no by those scary airplane people.

Speaking of Mike, he is coming to California this week! I am very excited to see him. It has felt like years, I think I am even going crazy. I have planned everything for his week here. Spring break will be extra special! It will be a fun distraction from Angela and school. This week I can pretend to be someone else, someone cool, and Mike will be very impressed. I know you tell me to always be myself, so I hope that I can make you happy by taking your advice on focusing only on the good. 

To prove I will focus on the good from here on out, here is a good things list: 

Mike is visiting!

Will has almost finished his painting. I am very curious to see what he has made. He is really talented, he shows me the drawings he sends you sometimes. 

You got into NYU! Is this the correct way to abbreviate? I am still working on conjunctions, but I think I am supposed to use the first letter of every word in the school’s name to shorten it. At least, that is what Joyce says. 

Jonathan’s new best friend, Argyle, will give us free pizza to celebrate Mike’s arrival. It is really good pizza. 

Tasting your cookies again. Fingers crossed Mike’s plan succeeds!

I am sure there is more, but I am too excited about this week and my mind is going very fast. I miss you tons, maybe even more than Will and Jonathan do. Please come visit us soon. Like Joyce says, the Byers boys were born to miss you. Although I am not a Byers boy, I am still a part of the Byers family, and I miss you. 

Love, El.

P.S., thank you for the grammar books. I will be sure to become the best writer ever in California. 

–

Sweet, gentle, El. You can almost hear her voice, reading aloud to you as you used to do when she lived in Hopper’s cabin. She would stumble over the letters, ask you how to sound out particularly difficult words in Spider-Man comics; they helped her learn how to read. Now, almost a year later, she’s writing you letters. 

El has grown up so much within such a short few months, although it doesn’t surprise you.

Laughing softly as you reread the final line she’s written, you wipe your eyes and place El’s letter onto your desk. The piece of paper joins the others, nestled gently with a pile of her other letters that are housed on your desk. El sends you a new letter every week, detailing silly stories about Jonathan and Will or concerned ramblings about Angela.

The letters make you miss El terribly. They make you miss everyone terribly. 

Next to the letters are drawings from Will. He’s become such an artist during his time in California. He sends you beautiful sketches of landscapes in their neighborhood, doodles from class, and incredibly detailed drawings of you and the party. The drawings are Will’s special way to keep in contact with you, and it’s something you cherish so deeply. However, you didn’t know that he was working on a painting, and you’re curious to see what El is talking about. Eventually he’ll reveal his art to you, he always does.  

Skimming a finger over one of the more recent drawings from Will, your hand catches on the walkman that lays next to it. Jonathan’s messy handwriting is scrawled on the mixtape that sits within it.

For bug.

The words, familiar and loved, stare back at you. The mixtape contains songs that Jonathan so carefully chose for you. He spent countless hours selecting songs that he knew you’d love, songs that reminded him of you. It had been his gift for you before he moved away. And now he’s gone, and you miss him so much more than you ever thought you would. More than you ever thought you could miss anyone.  

Jonathan never did end up coming to Hawkins for spring break. 

“Dusty, what’s going on in there?” The sound of your mother pounding on Dustin’s door breaks you from your thoughts. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Don’t come in, I’m naked!” You hear the boy screech back at her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve will be here to pick you guys up any minute. Dustin knows he should be ready by now, the schedule has never changed. 

Throwing on the cardigan Steve got you for Christmas last year, you grab your walkman and storm over to Dustin’s room. At the same time, your mother nearly crashes into you in the hall. Her face is pale, horrified of the idea that she almost saw her son naked, and you pity the woman. Dustin has become relentless lately, even more difficult to deal with. 

“Y/N, my dear,” your mother clutches at her chest and fans her face. “Can you please make sure your brother is ready? I think that boy is trying to give me a heart attack.”

You sigh, figuring you would have to do so anyways. “Yeah, sure. Go finish getting ready, I’ll handle him.”

“This is why you’re my favorite daughter!” Your mother kisses your cheek before running off towards the kitchen to make her morning coffee. 

Once she’s gone, you immediately start banging on Dustin’s door. He knows you hate being late. Plus, it’s the Friday before spring break. You’re getting antsy waiting for this week to end. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds before I kick this door down.”

“Not now, Y/N!” Dustin shouts back, frantic and desperate. 

You narrow your eyes. He’s using his suspicious voice, the one he only uses when he’s doing something he absolutely shouldn’t be doing. Glancing down at your watch and noting the early hour, you curse in disbelief. “It’s not even seven yet, what the hell are you up to so early in the morning?”

“Nothing! Just go away, I’ll be out soon–”

“I swear, if you’re trying to sell my limited edition comics again I will hurt you.” You throw your body against the door, causing it to fly open as you stumble inside. Dustin is at his computer and he nearly falls off his chair in his haste to cover the screen from you. He’s remarkably horrible at playing cool. You’re about to tell him this when Suzie’s voice crackles through his radio’s speakers. 

“Yikes, Dusty.”

“Suzie?” You walk over to your brother and shove his hands off the computer screen. He falls to the ground with a loud thud, which pleases you. He may be a teenager now, but you’re still stronger than him. At least for now. “Why are you calling her right now–” Your eyes land on the screen and you recognize Hawkins High’s familiar orange and green school colors. “Is this the student gradebook?”

“No!” Dustin exclaims, but Suzie’s small and soft voice responds, “Yes.”

“Oh my God,” you cannot believe he’s making his girlfriend hack into your school’s database. Sure, she’s a genius, but you also know she’s incredibly religious. “Dustin, this is so illegal and goes against, like, all of Suzie’s religious morals–”

“I will repent later.” Suzie interrupts you, and you raise your eyebrows at what she’s just said. Before you can question her, Dustin’s computer refreshes. 

He leans forward, eyes scanning to see if they’ve succeeded, and he seems to like what he sees. Suddenly Dustin lets out a sudden whoop and fist bumps the air. “God, I love you Suzie.”

Curious, you lean over and read the screen as well. There, where you know Dustin had a D- in Latin not even a day ago, is now an A. There’s no possible way he was able to raise his grade in under twenty-four hours. He sucks at Latin, he hates it, which means… She did it. Suzie changed his grade. All she had to do was press one single button to save Dustin’s GPA. 

You have to admit, it’s impressive. And shamefully genius. 

“Hey, Suzie.” You bring the radio to your lips, shoving Dustin away when he tries to take it from you. “Do you think you could change my grade in calculus? Jonathan was the only reason I passed any of my other math classes.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Suzie’s voice raises a pitch, she doesn’t want to tell you no. She likes you, she really does, but her God figurine stares down at her with a disappointed look in his eyes. She’s sinned for love, but she doesn’t think she could ever do it again. 

You’re about to plead with Suzie, tell her NYU really prioritizes their student’s grades, but the sound of a car honking outside catches your attention; it’s Steve. Dustin yanks the radio from your hand and shoos you away. “Go, leave without me.”

“What, why? We always drive together.” You frown, feeling like a little kid when you cross your arms. Dustin smiles apologetically, a smile you’ve become familiar with. Your mood darkens, anger rises to your cheeks. You know exactly why Dustin is now skipping out on you. “Don’t tell me it’s that stupid Eddie Munson–”

“He wants me and Mike to work out some campaign details before lunch today!” Dustin scrambles to mediate. He hates that you don’t like Eddie, and you like everyone. It’s unnerving how much disdain you seem to carry for his friend. “Nance is driving us, but I swear I’ll ride with you and Steve after break!”

You scoff at Dustin, not at all believing his promise to you. Ever since September your brother has been at Eddie Muson’s beck-and-call, who dictates everything Dustin says or does. At first it was innocent enough, choosing to sit with the guy instead of you at lunch. Skipping out on a few weekend plans with you and Steve to campaign with Eddie. You’d been happy for Dustin. He was making new friends, no longer your little shadow; he was his own person with his own priorities and interests now.

But ever since getting into NYU last week, Dustin has been pulling away even more from you. You don’t know why, but he’s become even more obsessed with Eddie and his stupid Hellfire club. 

Eddie Munson is the air your brother now breathes, stifling the air Dustin once breathed for you.

And it seems to only be suffocating you, not him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Halfheartedly you ruffle Dustin’s hair, and he leans into the touch. You don’t want him to know his repeated absences are upsetting you. Deep down, you know you’re being irrational. You’re almost eighteen, soon you won’t even be living under the same roof as Dustin. He’s allowed to live his own life. “I guess I’ll see you at the pep rally. Tell Suzie I said bye, please?”

Dustin nods, though you don’t linger in the doorway like you desperately want to. Instead, you shut the door behind you and place a swift kiss to your mother’s cheek as you leave. 

Steve’s car is parked in its usual spot at the end of the driveway. The teen’s arm hangs out the window and his face breaks into a smile when he sees you approaching. Steve’s smile is infectious, it’s always charmed you, and it settles the ache in your chest from your brother’s earlier dismissal. Feeling a smile spread across your own face, you run towards Steve and poke your head through the open window.

“Hi,” you breathe out, nose almost bumping against his cheek.

“Hi, angel.” Steve kisses you, solidifying your morning tradition. Neither one of you really remembers who started it, but sometime during the school year you began to slip your head through Steve’s car window so that he could kiss you slow and sweet. 

And, as tradition follows, Robin starts boos. “Do you have to do that every morning?”

Steve makes a face at her and she punches his arm. He yelps in pain and you roll your eyes at the two of them before running over to the passenger’s side where Robin sits. Her window is rolled down as well and you duck your head inside. “Aw, Robin. If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just said so!” 

“A kiss–?” Your lips press against Robin’s cheek, smushing against her face while making a dramatic sound. She squeals and pushes you away, wiping her now wet cheek in disgust. “That is not what I wanted.”

You giggle at her and finally get into the car. It’s getting late, you see the assortment of Robin’s limited makeup dumped into her lap haphazardly. She’s been stressing about this morning’s pep rally all week, and clearly she isn’t coping very well. Trying to cheer her up, you flick her shoulder. “I’ll have you know that my cheek kisses are cherished in Hawkins.”

“How many people’s cheeks are you kissing?” Steve turns in his seat to face you, slightly alarmed. Then, noticing that there’s only one Henderson in his car, he frowns. “And where’s little Henderson?”

“Eddie Munson.”

“Woah, wait, you mean Eddie as in where Dustin is, right? Not, like, you’ve been kissing his cheek? I’m right, right? Please tell me I’m right.”

You roll your eyes fondly at Steve while Robin rolls hers in displeasure. “Just drive, Steve.”

–

It becomes pretty apparent five minutes into the car ride that no one seems to be having a good morning. Robin has spent the majority of the drive applying and reapplying her mascara while messing with her hair. She groans every time she looks in the mirror and her eyes lack their usual brilliance. 

Meanwhile, Steve has been complaining about yet another fight with his dad. Apparently they argued during breakfast, something that has become a common occurrence in the Harrington household. 

“The asshole again reminded me that I’m turning twenty soon. As if I don’t already know that! I mean,” Steve laughs in exasperation. “For weeks now he’s been asking me what my plans are, as if working at Family Video just isn’t good enough for him. As if my dad isn’t the sole reason I had to get a lousy minimum wage job in the first place!” 

“Family Video isn’t a lousy job–”

“Yes it is.” Both Steve and Robin say at the same time, which you sigh at. Can’t really argue with that. 

“Okay, yeah. It’s pretty lousy.”

Steve rubs his eyes tiredly. “And that isn’t even the worst part. There I was, pouring syrup over my pancakes, trying to enjoy the fact that my parents are actually home for once, when my asshole of a father tells me that if I don’t have a respectable job by the time I’m twenty, he’ll kick me out. I mean, can you believe that?” 

You suck in a breath. “Steve…”

Richard Harrington is a cruel, awful man. 

While you understand his frustrations towards Steve, it’s completely unreasonable to expect him to get a reputable job in a few short months without any college education. Steve’s right, it had been Richard’s idea to make him work at Scoops Ahoy in the first place. When the mall burned down, he had no other option but to work at Family Video soon after. 

“I’m sorry, honey.” You intertwine your fingers through Steve’s hair and rub your thumb up and down the nape of his neck in a soothing manner. Steve allows the touch, but he’s still tense. Guessing that he’s uncomfortable feeling so pitied, you try to make light of the situation with humor. “But hey, who knows? Maybe you can come live with me in New York if he ends up kicking you out.”

Steve risks a look at you, taking his eyes off the road for a few moments, and his eyes shine. He’s ecstatic over what you’ve just said. He looks like a little kid on Christmas Eve. “You really mean that?”

“Well, I mean…” It had mostly been a joke, a throwaway comment to try and get him to smile. But Steve’s body finally relaxes under your touch and you can’t tell him no. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You hear that, Robin?” Steve preens, wanting to get her attention. However, when he realizes that she hasn’t been listening to the entire conversation, he makes an offended sound. “Robin, are you listening to me?”

“Uh, yes?” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror, startled that she’s been caught. “You were-uh. Talking to Y/N about your dad. We-we hate him! Yeah, we hate the guy. He really… grinds my gears?”

Steve groans. “We all hate my dad, but that wasn’t what I was talking to you about!”

“Cut me some slack, please. Your relationship with your father is one of labyrinthine complexity–”

You poke your head between the two teens. “Actually, it’s not that complicated.”

Robin covers your mouth with her hand and continues with her rant. “It’s seven in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!” 

“I think you look lovely as always, Robin.” You mumble through the girl’s hand, barely coherent.

Steve, however, isn’t as supportive. “You’re worried about a pep rally? You really expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah, so?” Robin removes her hand from your mouth and goes back to doing her makeup. She’s avoiding the conversation now, which only means that Steve is onto something. Why has she been so obsessed about this week’s pep rally? Robin has been in band for years now, she’s done a million pep rallies during her high school career. It can’t be performing that makes her nervous. 

Which means it has to be about someone. 

Locking eyes with Steve, he seems to be thinking what you are. “I think we all know what this is about, okay? Y/N and I aren’t buying that bullshit.”

“This is about Vickie.” You finish for him, a smirk on your face. For weeks now Vickie has been all Robin has talked about. Her hair, how pretty her smile is, how cute her freckles are. Vickie also happens to be in band with Robin. “C’mon, you can’t tell us we’re wrong.”

“I absolutely can tell you you’re wrong.” Robin denies what you and Steve are implying.

Steve shakes his head. “You know we’re right! And you know what else we think?”

“I really don’t care–”

“Y/N and I think that you gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her, okay? You just gotta be yourself.”

Robin doesn’t want to hear any of this. At least not from you and Steve. “You guys are biased, you do realize that?”

“What do you mean?” You’re practically laying across Steve’s car console in order to be a part of the conversation. “I think we’re objective people.”

“You’re telling me that all I have to do is be myself and Vickie will want to date me?”

You frown. “Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

Robin throws her head back. “Because it took Steve months to ask you out. Mind you, this was when you were already in love with the guy! And he knew you were in love with him!”

“Okay, hey–” Steve doesn’t at all like what she’s insinuating. He didn’t necessarily know you were already in love with him, he just… had a small hunch. 

“I’m not done,” Robin holds her hand up. “All Steve had to do was man up and admit his feelings for you. He didn’t have to agonize over whether or not it’d blow up in his face. There was no risk, no danger, no world ending consequences. I mean, if you had rejected him then maybe Steve’s ego would’ve been bruised. But if I ask out the wrong girl? Bam! I’m a town pariah.”

“This is true,” you reluctantly agree. While you could never envision a world where you’d ever say no to Steve, you also recognize that the world where you somehow do wouldn’t be the same world as Robin’s. Things are different for her, whether you like it or not. Robin has to live with this knowledge, and her conversation with you about luck and love from last summer echoes in your mind. 

Steve places a hand on his chest, betrayed. “Whose side are you on, Y/N?”

“True love’s side.”

Robin snorts and Steve doesn’t bother to hide his smile. He wants to tease you for being a hopeless romantic, but now isn’t the time. Instead, he continues the previous conversation. “True love aside, we can’t ignore that Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl.”

“Oh, she definitely isn’t straight.” You agree.

“We don’t know that!” Robin quickly sprays some breath freshener in her mouth and gags, which you cringe at. Vickie is one lucky girl if Robin ever manages to become her girlfriend. 

Steve doesn’t let up, he’s convinced he has it all figured out. “She returned Fast Times paused at fifty-three minutes, five seconds.”

“The bikini scene, mind you.” You butt in, and Steve nods eagerly.

“And you know who pauses Fast Times at fifty-three minutes, five seconds? People who like boobies, Robin!” 

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–”

“Boobies! It’s not a big deal–”

You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.”

“Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!” 

You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.” 

Robin can’t even look at the two of you, appalled by how many times the word “boobies” has been uttered during the duration of the conversation. You can’t blame her, the word has practically lost all meaning for you as well.

Steve, however, can’t seem to get enough of it. “It’s boobies!” He exclaims again to no one in particular.

You and Robin lock eyes, and then, without saying anything, your hand covers Steve’s mouth while Robin flicks his forehead, effectively putting the boob conversation to an end. 

– 

The moment Steve’s BMW slows in front of the school, Robin throws the door open and rushes out with a quick “see you later!” to you as she runs to follow after her bandmates. Steve waves weakly as she goes and sighs in disappointment.

“She’s never talking to Vickie, is she?”

“Not a chance,” you sigh as well, watching as Robin’s figure disappears in the crowd of students. Spring break looms over the student body, everyone buzzes with excitement over their week of freedom and tonight’s basketball game. The pep rally in just a few short minutes only adds to the exhilaration. Leaning forward, your lips graze against Steve’s. “Anyways, see you tonight?”

He bridges the gap between your lips, skin meets skin and warmth floods your stomach. “Of course, angel. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.” And with one last kiss, you exit Steve’s car and make your way towards the school. As always, Steve waits until you’re safely on the sidewalk before he pulls away and heads towards Family Video. He’s started picking up morning shifts to fill the time he isn’t with you.

On your way inside, you see Ms. Kelly talking to Max near the buses. The conversation is short, doesn’t last much longer than a few seconds, and when Max turns away you notice Ms. Kelly’s patient smile drop. Clearly Max still isn’t being cooperative when it comes to their sessions. She promised you she would start trying, but Max Mayfield has always been stubborn and you’ve always been slightly overbearing.

Not the best combination, honestly.

With a sigh, you make a mental note to ask Max about what the counselor talked to her about later. There’s too much going on this morning to focus on it, and you’re already pushing Max by having her attend the pep rally anyways. Originally she had wanted to skip it and hide in the stairwell, but after begging her about it, Max finally agreed.

The conversation can wait. For now, at least she’ll be next to you in the bleachers alongside the boys to cheer on Lucas.

The thought was enough to brighten your mood a little, but it quickly became a pain in the ass to corral the party into sitting together. It took you almost fifteen minutes to find Mike and Dustin in the mass of students heading into the gym. You’re not necessarily sure how it took so goddamn long given the fact that Mike towers over half of the students anyways. He’s grown freakishly tall since starting freshman year. It unnerves you. 

While his towering height annoys you, Mike likes that he can finally, literally, look down on you. 

“There you guys are!” You grab the back of Mike’s shirt and he lets out a startled yelp. Dustin stumbles back as well, and an annoyed sophomore glares at the three of you. Ignoring her, you grab your brother’s shirt and start dragging the two boys towards the bleachers. “Thought we agreed on meeting at the water fountain that squirts water in your face?”

“I thought it was the library?” Dustin gives you an odd look. “Wait, is there even a water fountain in the library?”

“You amaze me.” You remark, not even bothering to answer his question. He listens like a bag of rocks. Mike just allows you to pull him, not at all contributing to the conversation.

Max waits for you in the bleachers. She’s saved you seats, something that you feel slight relief over. The simple gesture is small, but it sparks just enough hope within your chest to make you exhale softly. Hope that she’s getting better. Hope that she’s finally trying again.

Thanking Max, you and the others fill the seats as the gym quickly fills with more and more students until it threatens to overflow. The roar of the crowd is nearly deafening. Across from the bleachers resides the marching band. They’re playing the school’s anthem as the cheerleaders start their routine. Chrissy Cunningham leads them, her smile lovely and beautiful, she shines so brightly upon the crowd that you can’t help but fall in love with her.

In the midst of the cheerleaders’ twists and flips, Robin manages to catch your eye from across the room.

You eagerly wave at her and mime playing the trumpet, copying her movements as she actually plays one. Robin laughs, and next to her is a girl with fiery red hair who laughs as well. She’s pretty, you’ve heard countless sonnets about her red hair and dotted freckles. Knowing the girl is Vickie, you point at her as you wink at Robin, who scoffs and goes back to playing the trumpet. 

Next to you, you catch the tail end of some bizarre conversation between Mike and Dustin.

“Look, I’m not saying that my girlfriend is better than yours.” Dustin is clarifying, glaring at you when he hears your sarcastic snort. “It’s just that Suzie’s, like, a certified genius.”

Mike crosses his arms, looking towards you as if somehow this is all your fault. “Your brother realizes that El saved the world twice, right?”

“Admittedly that is hard to beat,” you shrug. “That, and she has cool powers.”

Dustin points a finger at the two of you. “And yet Mike still has a C in Spanish while you’re barely passing calculus.”

Mike rolls his eyes and you shrug again. Your brother isn’t necessarily wrong either. El’s saved the world, Suzie has saved his GPA. Both are nearly impossible feats. “Touchy subject, but touché.”

“And what can your boyfriend do, Y/N?” Mike asks, now bringing the attention to your love life.

“He’s good with a bat.”

Both Dustin and Mike groan, but you shush them when the school’s broadcaster announces the Tigers basketball team. Applause breaks out across the bleachers and you notice Max looking around for Lucas. Though she tries to hide it, you can see the interest and excitement in her eyes. She’s happy for him, but it breaks your heart that she feels that she can’t show it.

Jason Carver, captain of the basketball team and former Scoops Ahoy patron before Steve spilled ice cream all over his pants, runs out first. The crowd goes wild, but you don’t start cheering until you see Lucas. He’s smiling wide, proud to be a part of the team. You scream as loud as you can for him, he’s come so far since confessing to you about wanting to join the team earlier this year. As Jason starts his speech, dramatic as he always is, Lucas sees you in the bleachers and waves shyly, a blush creeping across his face. Then, seeing Max next to you, his confidence seems to grow as he waves more enthusiastically at her. 

The moment is sweet, it makes you smile. 

Except Max doesn’t wave back. She crosses her arms, pretends she hasn’t seen him, and your smile drops alongside Lucas’. 

You know they’ve been having some trouble recently. With Max pulling away more and more each day, Lucas struggled to hold onto the fading girl. Despite his pleas and reassurances, Max still seems to be icing him out. According to Dustin, they broke up almost a month ago now. 

But they’ve always had a tumultuous relationship, long before nightmares and monsters darkened everything. The news hadn’t worried you at first, you thought it was simply another one of their weekly breakups over something small, innocent. Afterall, they were just kids when they first started dating. Their breakups were always childish, though endearing, and always temporary. 

Now, you’re scared that this time it’s permanent. 

You’re not sure what that means for Max. She already has so few people left in her life to tether her. Billy died, her mother works two jobs and is never home anymore, El is in California, and you and Lucas are breaking skin trying to claw onto whatever small hold you have left of the girl.

Another loud cheer from the crowd breaks you from your thoughts. Jason must’ve just said something important, something worthy enough of a roaring reaction. He’s always been popular in Hawkins, Steve used to complain about him to you back when he was still on the team. But when Steve graduated and Billy died, Hawkins High had needed a new King to crown.

Jason Carver was more than happy to ascend the throne. 

“Chrissy, I love you, babe.” Everyone awes and you see Chrissy blow Jason a kiss. It’s sweet, you suppose. They fit together nicely, head cheerleader with the star of the basketball team, and they seem genuinely happy. Chrissy’s shy and kind demeanor balances Jason’s loud and charismatic boldness. They truly are a good match. 

“I think I can speak for all of us when I say it’s been a tough year for Hawkins.” Jason continues his speech, the room is eerily silent as everyone listens with baited breath. “So much loss…” The gym almost exhales simultaneously, remembering all the people who died last summer.

Your own breath exhales, and beside you Max tenses. Billy’s ghost floats through your minds, in through hers and out through yours. Hopper’s own ghost follows after him, only he doesn’t haunt Max the way he haunts you. He lingers over you, his final words to you engraved into your skin. 

You’re the best of them.

“And sometimes I wonder, how much loss can one community take?”

Enough to fill a mall of burning bodies, you think bitterly. 

Jason paces the gym’s floor now, he almost seems to glow before the crowd. He rambles on about needing something to believe in. That everyone should be doing something to honor all the lives lost in July, that playing basketball can absolve all the despair. As if it can bring them back.

Deep below your ribcage, nestled right underneath your scar and just in front of your stomach, rests a pit of anger that always simmers. You were born with it, it has always followed you. It has grown with you, the anger almost possessed your body when your dad left. Now, hearing Jason recite all the names of the ones who died that Fourth of July, the anger’s low simmer heats into a soft boil. 

You try to quell it. Jason means well, he’s only trying to uplift the community in a passionate, albeit uncomfortably pastor-y way. He’s only doing what he knows best; he’s being a leader. In another life, one where Demogorgons never harmed you, you think you would’ve really admired Jason and his resilience. 

“Think of Billy,” Your breath stills, yet your hand instinctively finds Max’s. She turns away from you, but the room is spinning and you can’t remember how to inhale. But Jason keeps going. “Think about our heroic police chief, Jim Hopper.”

Next to you, in your haze of grief and panic, you think you can feel Mike and Dustin shift uncomfortably. Grief sinks her claws into the kids, and you want nothing more than to puncture Jason’s lungs with them. 

This was supposed to be a pep rally for the Tigers, it was supposed to be joyous, an opportunity to bring Max out of her shell. To distract her from the hell that she calls her life. The entire school knows what happened to Billy, they know that he had a little sister named Max Mayfield.

You hate Jason Carver.

But you’re here for Lucas. Today is about him. He’s finally happy, he’s smiling again. The least you can do is swallow down the anger and grief and hope that you don’t end up choking on them later. That they don’t strangle you in your dreams.

“And now tonight, we’re gonna bring home the championship trophy!” Jason screams into the mic, erupting a volcanic roar from the stadium. People throw paper into the air, whistling and jumping up and down at the prospect of Hawkins High finally winning a championship.

“Tonight?” Dustin’s agonized exclamation causes you to jump. He looks at you, bewildered and panicked. “How is that possible?”

Your heart still hasn’t steadied from the surge of fury Jason evoked. Swallowing once again, you clear your throat and shake your head at your brother. “What, you guys didn’t know about the game tonight?”

“They call it a tournament,” Max explains for you, figuring you need some time to clear your head. You squeeze her hand appreciatively. “You win one game, you go on until there’s only one team left.”

Mike and Dustin exchange frightened looks, and you eye them suspiciously. “Did you guys really not know? I thought Steve explained all of this to you already. Why is it such a big deal, anyways? I mean–wait,” the boys won’t meet your gaze. They avoid facing you, Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets and Dustin pretends to read someone’s poster. 

You know the fearful look on their faces. It’s the same look Dustin gave you this morning when he ditched you to ride with Nancy and Mike. 

Goddamn Eddie Munson. 

“Oh, don’t you guys dare.” They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t fucking dream of missing one of Lucas’ games for a stupid club centered around some guy with enormous ego problems. “I swear to God, if you two skip the game tonight–”

“We won’t! I-I mean… Well. It’s, uh. It’s complicated” Dustin gulps, elbowing his way through the crowd of departing students as the pep rally ends. Mike follows, ready to step in at any moment, while Max slips away before you can stop her. Seeing how contorted your body is from anger, Dustin tries to appease you. “Look, I can’t promise anything, alright? Eddie is… Eddie.”

You’re about to scream some very choice words about that curly haired emo asshole, but Lucas intercepts the group and joins you guys. He looks between you, Mike, and Dustin, sensing some underlying tension. “What about Eddie?”

Mike quickly explains, and the more he talks, the more you want to shove your knives down Eddie’s throat. It’s one night, one goddamn night, and here Mike and Dustin are, almost shitting their pants at the idea of missing one Hellfire meeting to support their friend. While it’s unfortunate that all of this is happening on the same night, and though you recognize how long a campaign can take and how much the game means to the party, for once you can’t bring yourself to understand Dustin’s side. 

A championship game versus one single campaign meeting that can easily be done tomorrow instead.

Seems like a pretty easy decision to you. 

Lucas doesn’t understand why Mike and Dustin are so conflicted either. “I don’t get the big deal.” You’re all outside now, heading towards the main building for your classes. “Just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire to another night.”

You nod, agreeing with him, and Dustin rolls his eyes. “‘Just talk to Eddie.’”

“You can’t be serious right now,” your shoulder brushes harshly against the boy’s. You’re barely containing your anger right now. “Why does Eddie have such a strong hold over you guys? Hasn’t he repeated senior year twice now?”

“Why does that matter?” Mike looks at you as if you’re the scum of the earth that he just so happened to step on. “Why can’t Lucas just talk to his coach and get him to move the game?”

Dustin quips that he thinks Mike’s idea is a great one, but you shove between them and throw your hands in the air in annoyance. “You can’t possibly think that’s the same thing, right? A nationally organized game being postponed for a board game.”

Mike and Dustin both gasp at you, acting as if you’ve just threatened to kill a baby bunny in front of them, which only annoys you more. Sure, maybe you’re being a little mean right now, but you’re not appreciating how they’re treating Lucas. He’s never done anything to warrant this blatant disrespect from them. They’re refusing to see his side, too lost in their Eddie induced high. 

“DnD isn’t just a board game, Y/N! I’m honestly disappointed that you of all people would even say that. You’ve seen the intricacies of a campaign. You know I’ve spent all month now preparing for the end of Eddie’s campaign!” Dustin waves his hands in front of him, he’s in his own ecstasy of anger and annoyance, something innate in the Henderson bloodline. “A semester of adventuring has led to this moment, and we need Lucas.”

“Yeah, and the Tigers don’t.” Mike looks over at Lucas. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve been on the bench all year–shit!”

You swat the back of Mike’s head, the sound of his yelp satisfying and the sting of the hit soothes you. He looks at you, offended, and you just shake your head at him. “No, that was out of line and you know it.”

“One day I’m gonna be too tall for you to hit me, you know.” Mike scowls at you as he rubs his head. 

“And I’ll mourn the day when that happens,” you respond dryly before pointing at Lucas. “Now, apologize to him before I hit you again.”

Lucas lowers your finger and shakes his head. “It’s fine, Y/N. Me being on the bench isn’t the point, anyways.”

“Please, arrive at the point.” Your brother drops his head back and closes his eyes. He’s tired, he regrets even starting this conversation in the first place. The more the four of you talk, the angrier he can feel you become. Mike’s head may now be sore, but Dustin lives with you. If anyone here is in danger of your lecturing, it’s him.

“If I get in good with these guys, I’ll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too.” Lucas explains, looking between Dustin and Mike as he urges them to understand, but they don’t. Mike claims that they don’t want to be popular, something that Lucas doesn’t believe. “What, you wanna be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years?”

“We are nerds and freaks!” Dustin exclaims, causing a few students in the hall to look at you guys. You wave at them awkwardly, you’re starting to regret following the boys. This conversation feels personal, like you shouldn’t be intruding. Though you think Lucas has every right to want a good high school experience, you also think Mike and Dustin deserve to have their own experiences as well. If they don’t want to be popular, then that’s their decision just as much as it’s Lucas’ to want to be. 

You step between the three boys, finally getting their attention. “Guys, no one here is necessarily right or wrong. Lucas has every right to want to be a part of the basketball crowd, and you two,” you raise your eyebrows at Mike and Dustin, “have every right to want to stick with Eddie’s crowd.”

Dustin sighs, “thanks, Y/N–”

“I’m not finished,” you hold a hand up and shush your brother. “What isn’t right, however, is abandoning one another. You guys are friends, and right now Lucas wants you at his game tonight to support him. Tonight is special, everyone will be there, and I want you guys there as well. I know high school is hard, but it’s even harder when you’re alone.”

“Says the girl who is adored by everyone in this shitty town.” Mike huffs, he can’t believe how hypocritical you’re being. “You’ve never had to deal with what we do. No one has ever laughed at you or tried to make you jump off a cliff just because you’re different.”

You clench your jaw. Dustin looks at you wearily, he doesn’t like what Mike is saying, but he also can’t help but agree with his friend. You haven’t ever been bullied. All your life you’ve blended in, stood out only when you were kind to others, admired for your selflessness, but never enough to be invited to parties or dumped behind a dumpster.

“Mike…” Your brother tries to pull him away from you, but you both stand your ground.

“You’re right, Wheeler. I don’t know what it’s like.” You stare up at the boy, and Mike’s expression softens only slightly. He’s just as stubborn as you are, it’s why the two of you admire the other so much. “But you forget that I’m Jonathan’s best friend. The creep, the loser, the psychopath. Kids may not have ever targeted me, but I’ve seen what they do to the people they hate.”

All the times you had to ice Jonathan’s bruised face. The nights you spent in his room holding him as he cried because Lonnie’s fists and Tommy’s cruel words were too much. The sneers, the stares Jonathan received because he was different. Quiet. Being your best friend hadn’t lessened the blows. 

For years you wish you could’ve done more for Jonathan. Now, presented with Lucas’ opportunity to befriend the crowd that once was so cruel to your friend, you refuse to lose it. “That’s why I don’t want Lucas skipping the game tonight.”

It’s silent for a few moments, all three boys don’t know what to say. Taking a deep breath, Lucas stands beside you and breaks the silence. “We came to high school wanting things to be different, right? Now we have that chance. Like Y/N said, if I skip tonight, that’s all out the window. So I’m asking you guys, as a friend, just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire.”

Lucas pauses, he wets his lips and looks between his friends again. He feels so small, pleading for their attention. “Come to my game. Please.”

The bell rings, ending the conversation, and Lucas spares one last look at Dustin and Mike before mumbling a soft goodbye to you. He leaves you alone with the boys, who in turn mirror conflicted expressions. 

“Shit!” Dustin kicks his foot out and looks at you. “This is all your fault, you know that?”

“What is?”

“Me having empathy. I hate this. Why couldn’t you have raised me to be an asshole?”

You snort at Dustin before pulling him into a weak hug. You only have a few more minutes before you need to get to class, you can’t stay very long, but you also don’t want to leave the boys without some semblance of comfort. “You’re too charming to be an asshole. Just… Come to the game, alright? Both of you. I’ll even make brownies if I have to. I just-I’ve missed you guys. This will be good for all of us.”

Mike ducks his head and Dustin sighs once more. Neither want to say anything else, so you reluctantly release your brother and leave them alone to wallow in their self-created misery. 

They’ll do the right thing. You’re sure of it.

– 

Lunch comes and Alex sits next to you. He started sitting with you at lunch just after winter break, and you’re endlessly grateful for him. You’re no longer alone, and he’s good company. A part of you regrets that it took the two of you three years to grow your friendship outside of Bookstrorindary. 

You’ll miss him when you graduate. 

Max is with Ms. Kelly today, a change in their usual meeting schedule of Tuesdays and Thursdays, meaning you had been right. She did skip their meeting yesterday and the counselor had to corner her this morning to schedule another one. 

“Be honest, how excited are you to move to New York this summer?” Alex asks you, taking a bite out of his carrot stick. You’ve come to learn that he has a weird obsession with the vegetable, always packing at least twelve of them every day. 

You pick at your own lunch, a wilted salad and sandwich your mom left for you this morning. “Honestly? It hasn’t really hit me yet. I mean, I only got in last week. I think my mind is still trying to catch up with reality.”

“Oh, c’mon. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little excited.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh and nudge the boy. “I’m a little excited. I just.. Haven’t really had time to think too much about it, you know? Between work, my brother, Steve, the kids, and…”

“Jonathan?” Alex finishes for you. He’s the only one who knows about how distant Jonathan has been. You’ve confided in him about how worried you are, about the phone calls while he’s high and the way Jonathan’s voice no longer sounds like his. 

You shove your lunch away, no longer hungry. “Yeah.”

“You guys call every Friday, right? Maybe tonight will be different!” Alex tries to cut through the tension that now corrodes your demeanor, which you smile at him gratefully for. 

“Yeah, who knows.” A piece of hair falls in your face and you push it behind your ear. Picking up your fork again, you attempt to finish your meal, but a sudden commotion interrupts the low buzz in the lunchroom. 

“As long as you’re into band, or science, or parties.” Eddie Munson sneers from the cafeteria table he’s standing on. He looks around the room as if everyone else is beneath him. Not worth his time just because they enjoy different things. Looking at Alex, you both sigh and prepare for whatever Eddie has to say today. His voice grows louder, shouting across the room towards the basketball team’s table. “Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!”

Jason stands up and a few students whoop and cheer. “You want something, freak?”

Eddie sticks to fingers up behind his head as he creates little devil horns, snarling with his tongue out and hissing. Jason grimaces, you do too. 

“He’s a little much, isn’t he?” You say to Alex, relieved when Eddie starts to step down from the table. 

“He terrifies me.” Alex breathes out, not taking his eyes off Eddie in fear he’ll somehow cast a spell on him.

You laugh at your friend’s unnecessary fear. Eddie is harmless, Hellfire isn’t a demonic cult like some students at Hawkins seem to think. It really is just a club centered around a board game with impressive storytelling and detailed plotlines. From what Dustin has told you, Eddie truly is the best dungeon master in Indiana. 

And while you believe him, you can’t wrap your head around why your brother idolizes Eddie so much. The fascination runs deeper than just DnD. Dustin has spent almost every day of his freshman year wrapped around Eddie’s finger. He spends all his time with the teen now, rarely with you, but you’re not bitter. Of course you’re not. Dustin can have his own friends, you know this, but you also feel so… unneeded. 

Your little brother doesn’t need you anymore, and it’s a hard pill to swallow.

Truthfully, Alex’s question earlier about moving to New York in the summer sparked more than just your usual anxiety over Jonathan. It also reminded you that in only a few short months you’ll be in an entirely new state, a new city, far away from Dustin. 

“Y/N!” Dustin flies into the seat next to you, nearly upending the table itself with how violently he throws himself down.

Alex shrieks and you steady the table before anything can fall. Heart pounding, you clutch at your chest as your nerves settle. “Why must you always be so violent?”

“Because it’s fun,” Dustin responds, not even bothering to acknowledge Alex’s presence. Instead, his eyes are only on you, and there’s a crazed spark in them. He’s breathing heavily, frantic, and you dread where this is going. “Look, I need to ask you a huge favor.”

“Do you realize that this is the first time you’ve sat with me at lunch since the first day?”

He winces. “And I will repent every day for my horrendous sins. I promise, I just–Jesus you’re terrifying when you don’t blink.” Dustin removes his hat to fix his hair, a nervous tick of his. He’s stalling, he should’ve never come here. Gulping, he rips the band aid off. “I need you to sub for Lucas tonight.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re giving him an out, one chance to back down before you strangle him.

Only Dustin tightens the noose even more. “Please, Y/N! Eddie won’t move the campaign. He said something about sheep and-and finding subs because Mike and I are, uh. I guess the future of Hellfire and he needs us and did I mention how important this campaign is? It’s super cool, super gory and totally up your alley and–”

“No.”

“N-no?” Dustin practically deflates in front of you, the light in his eyes dies. 

You shove him away from you, you don’t want to look at his pathetic pouting. You’re so unbelievably hurt right now, so fucking infuriated. “You have spent every goddamn waking hour ass kissing Eddie. You haven’t so much as looked at me during lunch this entire year as if I’m a fucking plague. You’ve canceled plans, you’re hardly ever home, and now you expect me to abandon Lucas, someone who has spent time with me this year, someone who has made this entire year less lonely for me. Something, by the way, that you haven’t even noticed, all because you finally need me?”

Dustin’s mouth opens and closes, he doesn’t know what to say, but for once you don’t care. How could he possibly think you’d miss Lucas’ game tonight? You adore the boys, each and every one of them, and now Dustin expects you to just abandon one of them for the others? 

“You’re only here because it’s convenient for you.” You hiss, venom pouring from your voice. “For Eddie.” 

“Y/N…” Dustin’s voice breaks, he sounds like a little kid again, the baby brother you doted on your entire life. “Please.”

“No!” You scream at him. 

The word echoes throughout the cafeteria. A few students turn to you, some curious, some annoyed. Alex draws into himself, wishing he were anywhere but here right now. Dustin’s eyes widen, his skin pales, and you clamp your hand over your mouth, completely and utterly mortified. 

You’ve never, ever yelled at Dustin like this before. Not with so much malice, vitriol. 

You feel like you’re twelve again, your anger hurting your baby brother. 

Red hot with embarrassment and shame, you quickly get up from the table and flee the cafeteria. Dustin calls after you, but you stumble through the hallway towards the nearest bathroom. Tears burn your eyes, guilt wracks your body in painful thuds. 

By the time you lock yourself in the bathroom’s stall, your sobs have begun to claw their way out of your throat. Pressing your back against the wall, you sink to the ground and pull your knees into your chest as you finally allow yourself to cry.

Abandonment makes you cruel. Your father taught you that.

– 

You don’t see Dustin for the rest of the day. He’s missing Lucas’ game and you’re angry with him for that, but you also feel such an intense guilt over your outburst. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing him. 

School ends and Steve drives you to work. The shift will be a short one due to the championship game, and Steve is staying with you so that you can drive to the game together. However, the moment you get into his car, he notices the dried tears on your face and the redness in your eyes and immediately throws his arms around you. In between shaky breaths and cries, you explain what happened to Steve.

He soothes you, tells you that you can always talk to Dustin after tonight’s game. Right now you and your brother need space from one another, and you hate that Steve’s right. You’ll force Dustin into a code blue, you’re long overdue for one, anyways. He’s been acting weird for weeks now. Someone has to give in, you know this, and if it has to be you then you’ll do anything to get your brother back. 

For now, Steve holds your hand as he guides you through the crowd of people in the bleachers. They all cheer for Hawkins High, the energy in the gym is electric. Faces are painted, cheerleaders wave their pom-poms, and you’re wearing Steve’s old Tigers jersey. You’re not much for school spirit, but Steve almost crashed the car when he realized you were wearing the jersey, and you know Lucas will appreciate it too.

“Y/N, over here.” Steve’s hand falls onto the small of your back as he gently pushes you towards some open seats he’s found. You lean into his touch and sit beside him. With his body against yours, you try to immerse yourself in the joy from the crowd. 

The entire town is here tonight. Everyone is smiling, kids laugh and parents wave posters for their sons. Tonight will be a good night, you’ve decided this to be true. 

The national anthem is announced and everyone rises in their seats. When the broadcaster announces that Tammy Thompson will be singing, you and Steve look at each other incredulously. Laughter rises within you and you cackle when Robin finds the two of you in the crowd. There’s no way this won’t end in disaster. 

Tammy walks out, wearing a horrendous faux cowboy outfit, and almost immediately sings off-key. You cringe, ears stinging from the attack, and try desperately not to let out any laughter as she continues to butcher the song. 

Steve whispers over to Robin, “told you. Muppet.”

“Okay, she does sound like a muppet.” Robin agrees, which only makes it harder to contain your giggles. Tammy is worse than a muppet, she sounds like a goddamn muppet that broke into her dad’s alcohol stash. 

“You sound better, angel.” Steve whispers into your ear, breath warm against your skin. 

You lean back against him and smile sarcastically. “Anyone can sound better than her.”

Steve chuckles and you can’t help but join him. You know it’s rude, that Tammy is honestly not that bad, though definitely not good enough for Nashville, but you can’t help it. You can’t believe Robin ever had such a huge crush on the girl who now drones the national anthem like a dying parrot. 

In between breaths of laughter, you see Lucas looking up at the bleachers. His face is grim, he doesn’t see Mike or Dustin or Max. None of his friends showed up, and you watch him with sympathy. You can’t believe them. 

But then Lucas sees you, and he gives you a weak smile. Your attendance isn’t enough, you know it isn’t, but you hold up the poster you made for him and he laughs despite himself. 

The game starts, and from the moment the whistle is blown, it’s intense. The Tigers are neck and neck with the Falcons. Steve tries to explain what’s happening throughout the game, but it all goes over your head. The energy in the room is intoxicating, though. You lean forward in your seat, you cheer when everyone else does, boo when you think you should.

“Carver just loves hogging the spotlight, doesn’t he?” Steve says with disdain as he watches Jason side sweep his teammates to score. 

You poke his side, you know he’s only saying this because he’s still bitter that Jaosn tried asking you out last summer. “Honey, your jealousy is showing.” 

Steve tries to deny this, but then a player gets injured during a foul from Falcon, causing you and Steve to both spew insults at the player. You have no idea what the foul even is, but you’re enjoying the chaos of the game.

In the midst of your uproar, you almost miss Lucas being sent into the game. You slap Steve’s chest repeatedly to get his attention, you almost don’t believe what you’re seeing. “Steve! Is that–”

“Sinclair!” He whoops, but he quickly scrambles to catch you as you nearly throw yourself off the bleachers in your blind excitement cheering. You’re screaming your head off, hardly even registering Steve’s hands on your waist. You’re incoherent and ecstatic, drunk on adrenaline. 

Lucas is playing.

The game only gets more brutal from there. The points even out, both teams neck and neck. Anxious, you squeeze Steve’s hand with anticipation. Everything happens so fast, Lucas plays so naturally with the others, as if he was born to be there. 

“Go, Tigers!” You jump up and down as Lucas runs after Jason. They’re doing a new play, attempting to score the tie breaker. Jason shoots, the ball hits off the backboard and onto the rim. Your breath catches, there’s only three seconds left on the clock. The ball falls, and there isn’t any time left.

Until Lucas catches the missed shot. He dribbles the ball, you clutch Steve’s hand, neither one of you utters a single word as Lucas makes the final shot. It’s an all or nothing throw, a risk, but he takes it anyways. The ball soars through the air, hits the rim. The buzzer sounds, the game is over, and the ball spins around the rim before finally sinking through the net.

Your chest burns as you violently cheer, Steve flings himself into your arms. You’re both jumping around, screaming together like little kids. “Hey did it!” You scream, and Steve shakes you in his arms with the biggest smile on his face.

“Sinclair did it!”

Down below, Lucas’ face lights up as the crowd goes wild for him. This is the happiest you’ve seen the kid in so long. The entire basketball team swarms Lucas, they lift him into the air and you cheer alongside them.

Steve tells you he’ll go warm the car up and you practically run outside to find Lucas as soon as the game is done. Your body buzzes, you’re still breathless with exhilaration. When you find Lucas, he’s just left the crowd of teenage boys. Wanting to surprise him, you creep up slowly before throwing your arms from behind him. “There’s the star!”

He stumbles from your weight, but he knows it’s you. Laughing, he turns around and you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “You came!”

“Of course I did, you moron!” You giggle, pulling away to straighten his jacket. “I made you a poster and everything.”

Lucas looks down at the poster that hangs by your side. His eyes light up, he remembers seeing it in the stands at the beginning of the game, but he hadn’t been able to read it from so far away. “Can I see it?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t want to see it.” You unroll the poster and present it with a grand flourish. “Tada!” 

Sin to win, Sinclair!

You’re incredibly proud of the wordplay, and Lucas chuckles. It’s good, he has to admit. You’ve left no white space on the poster, littering with small 8’s for his jersey and millions of small stickers and decorations. The poster was made with love, and Lucas knows you spent hours making it.

“I love it, Y/N.” He does. It will hang on his wall as soon as he gets home.

You beam at him. Then, from behind you, you hear your brother’s own cheers as a door opens. Lucas’ smile fades, hurt creeps upon his face. Frowning, you turn and find Dustin and Mike high fiving their Hellfire friends as they all celebrate the end of their campaign. Erica is with them, cheering with everyone else. 

“Lucas…” Your breath gives out. He doesn’t deserve this. Tonight was supposed to be his night. You turn to him, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you’re even supposed to say at this moment. Fifty feet away Lucas’ close friends are celebrating a night without him, his sister overjoyed as well. They’ve forgotten about him.

For once, you can’t find the right words to say.

“Thanks for the poster, Y/N.” Lucas doesn’t want your sympathy. He leaves, crestfallen, and you’re left standing alone holding the poster he had been praising seconds ago. The late March air chills your bones. 

You’ve never been so disappointed in your brother before.

– 

Steve drives you home and you’re silent the entire time. 

“Dustin isn’t a bad kid, Y/N. You know that.” Steve tries to reason with you, but what your brother has done tonight leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “I’m sure by tomorrow he’ll realize he was a jerk and apologize. He always does, he’s just being a stupid teen boy right now.”

You face the window, watching the trees fading into the distance. You know Steve is right, you know that Dustin is still growing up, making mistakes. Hell, no one is perfect at fifteen. When you were his age you were falling in love with your best friend as you hunted monsters together. Neither you or Jonathan or Nancy knew what the hell you guys were doing back then.

But this is different. Dustin has never betrayed his friends like this before. He, out of all of them, should understand the pain of being left behind. He spent half the summer upset that the party ditched him, and now he’s ditching Lucas?

“You know, I used to be a stupid teen boy.” Steve says, trying again to get you to say something. To look at him, at least.

It works, a small smile turns your lips. “I never knew.”

He laughs at the sarcasm in your voice, but he plays along anyways. “Oh, I totally was. I just hid it really well by, you know, making you hate me for a while by being annoying. But hey, look at me now! I’m still annoying, but at least I have it all figured out with you.”

“And what do you have figured out, honey?” You turn your head towards him, watch the street lamps illuminate his face.

Steve smiles. “Us. Our future. Sure, I may not know if I’ll ever get a better job, but I’m sure as shit staying with you, starting a life together so that I can annoy you for all eternity.”

“How romantic,” a giggle falls from your lips. You’ve been with Steve for nearly a year now, but you haven’t really talked about the future yet. At least not so intimately, with so much assurance that in the end it’ll be the two of you. “And where will we live, Romeo?”

“New York, obviously. As soon as you graduate, we’ll find some horrible, run down apartment that’s barely big enough for two people. We’ll move in, but there won’t be any air conditioning so we’ll almost murder each other in the heat. Everyone will hate the place, but we’ll love it.”

As Steve talks, the smile that had once been on your face begins to fade. He rambles on, not noticing the shift. He dreams up the plans, how he’ll stay home while you go to class. How he’ll fix the leaky faucet that will inevitably annoy everyone. Steve envisions himself waiting for you to come home after a long day of classes and falling into his arms. 

“Steve–” But he doesn’t hear you. He’s busy explaining how he’ll probably have to sell his car to afford the apartment, but that he doesn’t care, and you feel sick. It’s too much, he’s giving up too much. He’s willing to give up his entire life for you, drop everything and follow you without any questions asked. 

It’s what your mother did for your father. They met in college, both attending Purdue. Their relationship had been a whirlwind. Love at first sight, married as soon as they graduated, your father convinced your mom to follow him back to Virginia. To abandon her family and move two states over while pregnant with you. She didn’t know anyone in Virginia, her father moved them to a small town where only his name was known. 

The divorce that followed twelve years later ruined your mother’s life. She had been left all alone, no family to support her, no friends, in a state she never grew up in.

And now Steve wants to do the same for you.

Raising your voice slightly, you try to interrupt him again. “Steve!”

“What?” He looks over at you, words finally dying. “Do you want to keep the car?”

“You… you can’t.” 

Steve frowns. “I can’t what?”

Your hands shake. Your heart trembles. Your words die in your throat. There’s so much you want to say, you can feel the pit in your stomach build into a fist. You can’t let Steve do this. He doesn’t understand that he deserves more than this. “You-you can’t come to New York.”

Everything stills. You don’t dare to breathe, to disrupt the silence. Your words come out all wrong, you know they do, but they’re out in the open and Steve doesn’t look at you as he pulls into your driveway. Silent, he turns the car’s engine off.

“Y/N…” Steve still can’t look at you. He places his hands on the steering wheel, as if bracing himself for whatever will unfold tonight. He’s scared, he doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong. His mind flashes, and for a brief second he’s back at the Halloween party and you’re Nancy in his passenger seat. “Do you not see a future with me?”

“I do!” You sit up in your seat, reach over to touch Steve’s thigh. You need to feel him, to ground yourself to him. Everything about this feels wrong. As if you’re hanging over the edge of a chasm with a long, long fall. “God, of course I see a future with you, I just-this isn’t what you really want.”

Steve doesn’t want to move to New York, even if he doesn’t realize it now. What he’s really doing is chasing after a dream that isn’t his. The timing of this is off, he fought with his dad this morning about a future he was unsure of. You know Steve, maybe even better than he knows himself; he’s not doing it for your relationship or out of love. Steve only wants to appease his father, fulfill whatever desire he thinks you have. This isn’t what he wants, and he’s worked too hard to build the life he has now, without you, to simply throw it all away.

But he can’t see that right now.

“Of course this is what I want, Y/N! All I want is you.” Steve finally looks at you, but there’s a hardness in his eyes. He’s detaching himself from you, putting his walls up. “You and me, that’s what I want.”

You grab his hand, you try to keep your voice calm. “Steve, I love you so, so much, but I can’t-I can’t let you give everything up for me. Your life is here, in Hawkins. You have a job, you have your friends and-and your family, and it wouldn’t be fair to either one of us if you abandon it for me. You could-you could resent me for it later, you could realize you hate our life and wish you never followed me and–”

“Y/N, what did you think was going to happen when you were applying to all those colleges?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, he thought you were beside him this whole time. He assumed you’d been carving out the same future he had been. But he was wrong. “Did you really think I’d just stay behind and wait for you to come home every break?”

“I…” Shamefully, you hadn't been considering what would happen between you and Steve. In your mind, he was your future, he was in it, but the details were hazy. You weren’t sure how, or why, or when, but you knew that in the end, Steve was the person you’d spend forever with. 

Steve takes your hesitancy as his answer. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Steve–”

“You were just going to leave me.”

He tears his hand from yours and you blink back tears. You’ve never fought with him before, not like this. “I wasn’t just going to leave you! I just-Steve, please just listen!”

“I am, Y/N!” Steve exclaims, voice reverberating the car. You flinch away, and he immediately lowers his voice, apologetic. He hadn’t meant to scare you, he hadn’t meant to make you cry. Ashamed, Steve turns away from you. “I-I’m sorry.” 

He wants to wipe the tears he’s caused, but selfishly he also wants you to hurt like he’s hurting. You don’t see a future with Steve. You were going to leave him just like everyone else does. 

Steve should’ve known all of this was too good to be true. 

“I love you,” your voice is almost inaudible, the three words barely reach the light before they disappear into the dark night. You’re not sure why you say them, the words had built in your chest, the pressure heavy, and you needed to release them. To remind Steve of your oath to him. 

Silence fills the car. Steve doesn’t look at you, his shoulders are drawn together. His jaw clenches and you know he’s trying desperately to bite his tongue, withholding the cruel words that only heartbreak can provoke. 

“Honey,” you beg him to say something, anything. “Steve.”

“I think you should go.”

The dismissal punches your throat, knocks the wind out of you. He’s shutting you out, closing himself off from you, and you don’t understand how the two of you got here. “I… Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Steve’s words are cool, composed. Indifferent, almost. He still doesn’t look at you, his eyes remain focused on something in your driveway. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.”

“Okay,” you don’t want to leave, you know it isn’t good to go to bed angry with the one you love. Anger should never simmer, it should never be left unwatched. But Steve is silently asking you to give him space so that he can hurt, and you aren’t selfish enough to deny his request. And yet you’re selfish enough to press your lips to Steve’s cheek, but he doesn’t lean in like how normally does. Instead, he remains stoic, and you swallow down your tears and open the door to leave. “Drive home safe, honey.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he starts the car as soon as the door is closed and drives away. He doesn't look back, he doesn’t wait to see if you’ve made it inside your house safely. 

Tears spill down your face as you blindly walk towards your front door. Your argument with Steve replays over and over again in your head. You analyze every second, every word, you try to understand when everything fell apart. 

It’s dark in your home, your mother is asleep and Dustin’s door is closed, but right now all you want is your brother. You need to talk to him, cry into his shoulder and smell the shampoo he’s used ever since he was a baby. Your feet carry you to Dustin’s room and you pound on his door, begging him to let you in. You don’t bother masking the tears in your voice, you’re too exhausted to hide them from him. “Dustin, please let me in.”

“Go away!” There’s a thud on the door, he’s thrown something at it to shut you up. He doesn’t want to hear some stupid lecture right now. He knows he was an asshole tonight, he regrets it, but right now all Dustin wants to do is sleep. He’ll deal with you tomorrow. 

“Code blue,” you press your forehead against the door, your tears fall to the ground. “C-code blue.” Your voice hiccups, more tears come, minutes pass, and your brother never answers.

For the first time since you were kids, Dustin rejects your request for a code blue. 

The phone rings. The sound pierces through your ears, cuts through the headache that is starting to form. It’s Friday night. Jonathan is calling. 

Squeezing your eyes shut as you head pounds, you inhale shakily. You have to answer him, otherwise he’ll only call over and over again with concern. You’ve never missed a phone call, not once in the months since Jonathan has moved, but tonight you’re exhausted. 

“Can we call tomorrow?” You’re too tired to greet him and voice cracks, revealing far too much already.

“Bug?” Jonathan’s high, he’s always high. And yet even in his cloudy haze of smoke he can hear the anguish in your voice. “Is everythin’ okay?”

His question only makes you cry more. You’ve always tried your best to put up a front for others, to pretend that everything is okay. You’ve never wanted to worry people, you’ve always pushed aside your own hurt for the sake of others. Now, as anger and grief and despair clasp their hands around your throat, you’re terrified you’ll suffocate. 

You’ve never been able to lie to Jonathan, and tonight you don’t think you can. “I’ve had… the worst night.” You confess to him, wiping away tears.

You tell him everything, your fight with Dustin, how you think he may resent you leaving for college. You tell Jonathan about Lucas, how you were so disappointed in Dustin and Mike. Choking through tears, you explain to Jonathan your fight with Steve. How your words failed you, how hurt he looked, that you can’t explain to him how he only wants his future to align with yours, but not with your relationship. 

Even though you know that Jonathan won’t remember any of this tomorrow, for once you’re grateful that he’s too high to remember anything. It feels good just being able to say it all out loud. 

“‘M sorry, bug.” Jonathan mumbles over the phone once you’ve finished explaining everything. He sounds far away, figuratively and literally. You can’t imagine how much his drugged mind retained, but you’re thankful to have gotten it all off your chest anyways. 

“It’s fine,” you inhale again, you’ve finally stopped crying, though your chest still hurts and your head still pounds. “Steve and I… We’ll figure it out.”

Jonathan pauses, and for a moment you think he’s fallen asleep, but then his voice floats through the telephone line. “Do you.. Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?”

He strings his words slowly together, says them one by one with a hesitancy, and you frown. You don’t understand what he’s trying to say. What mistakes could you have made together? “What do you mean, bee?”

“I just… everythin’ is so hard. With Nance. Feel like… like ‘m never enough for her. And you, Steve. ‘S hard between you guys.” Jonathan’s words slur, he’s almost too incoherent to understand, and later you will wish that you hadn’t been able to understand him at all. “But you ‘n me? ‘S easy. Always so easy.”

His words toe the line between you, he can’t mean any of it. You don’t want him to mean any of it, because then the fallout would be too catastrophic to contain.

He’s Jonathan. Your oldest, dearest friend. Your best friend. Years ago, you could’ve been something more, you almost were something more, but the time has passed. 

You’re with Steve now, you’re happy and so, so in love with him. Even though everything is tangled between you right now, even though you’re fighting, you know that you and Steve will figure it out. He’s the one. He’s the man you want to marry one day, if he’ll allow you to. 

Jonathan is your past, Steve is your future, and right now you’re terrified that soon you’ll lose them both.

“Jonathan,” you finally say, his name now heavy on your tongue. It feels like you’re betraying someone while saying his name, but you need to end this conversation. Before Jonathan says something he’ll regret in the morning. “You love Nancy, I love Steve, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Love you,” Jonathan’s words slur even more, his voice drifting off. “You, always you…”

You slam the phone done, ending the call, as a chill runs down your spine. Silence encases you, the house is still. The strings and threads from years ago constrict around your throat. You choke on the lines Jonathan has crossed tonight, the tightness in your head stabs against your skull. 

There is no one to hear you, no one there to hear your final words to your best friend. “Goodbye, Jonathan.”

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[malereadermaniac]

Gym ~ Holland!Peter Parker x Male Reader

Top!Peter x Bottom!Reader cw: Working out n sweat, body worship, Bottom reader & top Peter, hand kink (kinda), underwear n sock stuff word count: 1.3k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Holland!Peter who likes to have you 'help' him as he works out in your home-gym. You motivate the hero throughout his workouts, laying under him as he does push-ups; rewarding your muscular boyfriend with a short n sweet kiss every time he lowers himself

Holland!Peter who uses you instead of weights whenever he can, especially when doing hip-thrusts. The handsome man having you sit on his hips, your ass literally on Peter's clothed crotch, as he grunts and groans with every raise of his hips - his dick obviously hardening underneath you with every thrust. The brunette's rough, veiny hand on your hip so firmly, keeping you in place as his other masculine hand rests in its rightful place on your thigh

Holland!Peter loving how evidently flustered you get when he works out with you, even though you try to hide the blush on your face behind your sassy/sarcastic facade. The hero knows you, like the back of his hand, so he not only tries to get his own weird pleasure out you 'helping' him but also to tease you from time to time; and he achieves this every time... It's not like it's hard, Peter knows what gets you going and uses it to his advantage, like keeping you below him and letting his sweat drip onto you, or keeping a firm grip on you, just to remind you of how fucking strong he actually is

Holland!Peter who always gets frisky during his workouts. Hey! Endorphins pair really fuckin' well with dopamine from having sex with the guy he fucking adores (you!). The hero's dick gets fully erect barely halfway through his session most of the time, resulting in Peter dropping subtle hints at you helping him out. Subtle as in wolf-whistling you when you bend over or smirking down at the tent in his sweatpants to get your attention.

Holland!Peter who fucking loves to have you suck him off while he lifts weights. He'll be doing bicep curls above you as you're on your knees in front of the brunette, absolutely going ham on his thick dick. His sweaty, hot balls and dick smell of his manly musk as you kiss and lick his shaft and sack, making the man above you groan as he sweats from exercise and being horny. Shit really hits the fan when your fully sucking Peter off; sloppily deepthroating his thick, veiny cock as his thick bush of sweaty pubes stuff your nose with his intoxicating scent. It turns you on so much to watch the man workout above you, watching his sweat roll down his abs and down his v-line as you pleasure him oh so nicely, his moans echoing in your gym along with grunts of your name.

Holland!Peter who loves it when you worship and praise his body after a workout, his glistening muscles lookin' so attractive as the hero sits on a changing bench and sprawls out his body (because yes, you two decided to also install a changing room for your private gym, and yes it was mainly to have sex in). Peter's dick will re-harden instantly as you kiss his collarbone, lick his sweaty pecks and kiss down his abs and all the way down to his sweaty feet. Your praises of how his body is "incredible" and "godly" and "sexy" really stroking his ego, getting his hormones raring.

Holland!Peter loving the way you look below him, kissing at his feet, making direct eye-contact as you submit to him; he's not the type to be dominant, but FUCK does he feel so horny when you go out of your way to to please him. He always offers his hand out to you, knowing how feral you go for his veiny, rough hands which have saved hundreds of lives. Peter's dick twitches like crazy as he watches you suck his fingers off as if they were his cock, his eyes unable to leave you as you work your tongue sloppily around his sexy fingers, looking into his eyes as your spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth and your chin.

Holland!Peter making you with you desperately and sloppily as you sit on his lap, your sweaty ass sticking to his thick, tired thighs. The feeling of your boyfriend's masculine hands spreading your cheeks never gets old, his fingers cutely prodding at your tight entrance in a curious and impatient manner; Peter always wanting to feel more of you, pleasure you and himself as quickly as possible.

Holland!Peter who fucking loves to watch you do your best to take his big, thick cock - positioning his dick to your entrance and slowly sinking down on your boyfriend's shaft. The brunette gets butterflies in his stomach at the sight of you putting in so much effort to get him inside of you, your face contorting in pain and pleasure just hittin' that spot for Peter so damn well

Holland!Peter who just can't help himself, he tries to give you as much time as he can to adjust to his girth, but you're just too perfect - your walls so warm and tight around Peter, your body fitting together with his like a puzzle, your panting face above him, it all just results in the brunette starting to thrust up into you without even thinking about it! But god does it feel so fucking good, your loud cries and moans of his name and "too big", "too much", and "fuck" turning your boyfriend on to the max, his desperation to pleasure himself and you giving him the confidence to take the lead and fuck you in whatever way he wants

Holland!Peter who gets off to seeing you desperately struggle yet fail to moan out his name due to his dirty, sweaty socks or underwear stuffing your mouth and acting as a gag. The brunette's dick twitching against your tight, warm walls as he drills in your prostate, watching as you squirm against his lap and become overwhelmed by his salty taste in your mouth and his musky scent in your nose - the entire changing room now smelling of both your sweat and his, along with the filthy smell of sex and fluids. Peter's hands feel correct on your hips, holding you tightly as the hero forces you up and down on his cock, his moans of your name making your dick twitch with ever jab at your prostate

Holland!Peter who can't hold himself back for too long, his body jolting forwards and enveloping your body with his sweaty, muscular one, his arms around your waist and his teeth in your shoulder as he breaths in your scent and groans into your shoulder; shooting his thick load deep inside of you. His sweaty garments would fall out of your mouth finally, allowing you to moan and whine as your own dick shoots ropes of white cum onto both your stomach and Peter's, your prostate being milked by your boyfriend's thick dick. Your nails claw down the hero's back, your toes curling in pleasure as you bask in the afterglow, inhaling your strong boyfriend's smell as he does the same as he kisses the marks he had left on your body during your passionate little moment.

Holland!Peter who just wants to rest with you a little. He doesn't care that his dick is still inside of you, or that his cum is slowly dripping out of your hole. The brunette just wants to hold you near, feel you as he kisses your body as little 'thank you's' for being so good to him. Of course, after a few enjoyable moments together, Peter remembers how horribly uncomfortable you must be and gets the two of you into a shower - cleaning you up and out, washing your hair for you and massaging your scalp as you get drowsy from the steam and the cardio. Fuck he treats you so damn well...

[nouearth]

let me in.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter struggles to balance between life and work, and it's ruining his relationship with you.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: andrew!peter, college au, established relationship, brief fighting, brief injury and blood mention (nosebleed), misunderstandings, peter reveals his identity, dry-humping, over the pants (or suit) handjob, body worshipping, lots of sweat, fingering, frotting, riding, spandex fetish, reader has a thing for peter in his spider-man suit!

You were starting to feel antsy. You could feel it—the nerves kicking in again. Anticipation—a suspension of doubt—made your hands clammy at first, but it was the time that made your hands clutch nothing but air. You rubbed the sweat off your hands onto your pants, your knees not so comforting with their pointedness.

Acceptance—when it was evident that Peter was late, again.

Birthdays have never been a big deal in your family. Sure, it was great that you had the privilege to live another year. To witness yourself grow older, to stand a few inches taller, to live a little more knowledgeable than yesterday. But growing up with parents who had to constantly work, well-late into the depths of night, it had never been more than a birthday wish that had greeted you in the mornings, and bid you slumber in the evenings. Since then, you knew not to expect anything.

If only Peter hadn’t made such a big deal out of it this year.

“Excuse me?” The familiar timbre of a voice speared your thoughts; deep and tunneling as you were transfixed on the glasses of water before you. Yours had been refilled, though a little sparse compared to Peter’s full cup.

Your eyes widened with feigned curiosity, a small smile plastered alongside to hopefully negate any annoyance from the waiter—because you expected what he was about to follow up with.

“Hey… uh,” he shifted on his feet awkwardly, eye bags weighing heavier than the last time he had checked up on you. You looked around, surprised by the amount of patrons who had filled the space around you while you were daydreaming. Laughter and smiles completely lit up the room. The dim lights were practically stationed in the restaurant for decoration, and seemingly to spotlight your ‘dinner for one’ status. “I’m sorry, but… we have no more tables to fill, and if you aren’t ordering soon, then we’ll have to give your table up for the next party...”

It was obvious that you weren’t, you hadn’t even torn into the buttery bread rolls that were piping hot forty-five minutes ago. Now, the fat had solidified into spotty, yellow clumps, though you doubt that would’ve been enough to detract from the quality of the rolls.

“Oh, I—“ You pulled out your phone to check your messages again. Nothing. Swiped down to refresh your conversation with Peter. The loading icon felt like it took forever, you half-expected that your phone was updating the thread with Peter’s messages that somehow got lost in the void of the restaurant’s spotty signal. 

And nothing.

“I—yeah… uh. I-I’ll head out.” It was embarrassing. Even if the waiter had given you a sympathetic smile, you hated knowing that you wasted his time. You hated that you selfishly occupied a seat when someone else would’ve been done with dinner by the time you exited. 

“Thanks—” 

You hated that you had your hopes up for things to be different.

Again.

The night was dreary. Not even the wind had greeted you like the others when you stepped out. Soft and fluttering against your skin, but scolding enough to make you put your coat back on. Luckily, your apartment wasn’t too far from the restaurant, a fifteen minute walk at most if you speed-walked. Shoving your hands in your coat pockets, you then ambled along the sidewalks, wallowing in your feelings with a playlist that belted in your ears once you plugged your earbuds in. 

You didn’t have the energy left to hurry home.

Once you crossed the last intersection, you felt a little bit more at ease. Seeing the familiar apartment complex at the end of the block picked your pace up a step more. You paused your music once you neared the entrance, just a turn away before you could finally bury yourself in your bed. 

You reached into your pocket to grab your wallet. The weight in your palms instantly reminding you to deposit the cash tips sometime soon before the stretch of the leather had become unbearable to fit in your pocket. 

Your walk slowed as your attention was fixated on your wallet, fumbling it open clumsily to retrieve your keycard. In midst, you caught a glimpse of a photo print of you and Peter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the biggest grins as Peter had a peace sign above your head, doubling as bunny ears. Honeymoon phase, they’d call it. Where you were beginning to discover more about Peter, and Peter was beginning to discover more about you. Likes. Dislikes. Hobbies. Memories. It felt like yesterday when you two were spending every second of your day with each other. 

Now, it would be a miracle if Peter returned a call.

With the keycard in your hand, you turned the corner, and towards the entrance, the smiles from the photo print reflecting onto yours as you could vividly hear Peter’s pleas to retake them again. The flash of the cameras always made him blink.

If only you had been focusing on where you were going instead of the still image of the first memory between you and Peter, maybe you could have avoided the collision altogether when you approached the door. You suddenly found yourself on your back, facing the night sky as clusters of stars twinkled in laughter. There was a slight throbbing to your forehead, a mark you’d reckon would appear as purple within the next 12 hours despite the painless… pain.

“Oh god— I’m so, so, so, sorry! Let me—“ If the beating your face took to the door hadn’t snapped you back to reality already, the familiar face before you certainly pulled you out of your thoughts like whiplash once he helped you back onto your feet. Your vision instantly cleared of haze, as if his simple presence was your remedy.

“(M/N)?” Peter interrupted himself, his eyes widening. You could see the wheels turning in his head when the dim light spotlighted your features: eyes, nose, lips; flesh and bone that he was well-acquainted with.

“Peter—“ You took a moment to scan him. It was like all the other times he had been late. His fringe; stuck to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and water, the latter being a last resort to clean himself up. His knuckles; bruised and torn with minuscule cuts barely able to conceal the truth behind his scars. His necktie; clumsily done with the knots coming loose. Though, whether the silk unfurled by Peter’s own sloppiness, or by the increasing frailty of his fingers that had become susceptible by even the most delicate material of neckties; it was futile to mention it to him. You knew he’d shut you down with another excuse.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you okay? I-I’m so sorry—I was on my way to you and—Oh god, you’re bleeding!“ Breathless, panting, not only because he was panicking from running late. 

But because of adrenaline. You could see it in his eyes. The alertness. The high.

“What—“ You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, only to see a smear of blood blotted across your skin. “Shit.” 

Another thick drop splattered in greeting.

“Peter, it’s a nosebleed. You’re acting like I had my arm chopped off or something.” You’ve been applying pressure to your nasal bridge, pinching it tightly to barricade the stream of blood. All while you had your head tilted over Peter’s sink, in case of the blood leaking past your hold. “And how long does it take to find a cotton ball?”

“I’m trying—“ His one-sided game of hide and seek with the bag of cotton balls was leaning in favor of the latter. Medicine cabinet: empty. Bedside drawer: foreign coins and bills. You were watching him from the corner of your eye, a small limp to his step when the lightbulb seemingly lit up overhead and had him dashing towards the kitchen. 

“Found it!”

Peter’s touch was delicate. Tender, like the forming bruise on your forehead. He was adamant on taking care of you, even if frankly—you would’ve done it much faster had it been a solo endeavor. Cotton balls were plugged up into your nose, and a warm face towel was laid across your forehead. If an intruder had the audacity to rob Peter’s apartment, you’d imagine you would find yourself lucking out. Peter joked that you looked like patient zero.

“All done. See? Nothing to cry about.” He was joking again, the smug smile across his face a clear indication of it—and the laugh that he couldn’t help but contain.

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, Dr. Parker. Now, how much do I owe you? I’m paying outta pocket.” For a brief moment, you forgot that you were upset earlier. All because of how nice it was to actually see him again. He pressed a kiss to your lips, a comforting gesture if his constant apologies weren’t enough. Stay focus. 

“So, about dinner…”

“Oh,” Disappointment softened Peter’s smile. You could see it tightening, even as he was organizing his room. Though, it was really a matter of tossing his clothes on the floor back into the laundry basket. “Listen, my… bike got stolen and—“

“Peter…” You sighed, pinching your nose bridge because you feared another avalanche of a nosebleed incoming. That, and because it helped you maintained your composure. “You said that the last time. Three times, actually.”

“Third time’s… the charm?” He was joking. Again. But even he wasn’t laughing at it because he’d been cornered. Called out. Embarrassed that he thought that would even work on you. Embarrassed that he thought he could get away with it. 

Again.

“Peter.” You called out, straightening your posture against the headboard of the bed when he sat at the end of the mattress. Shit, it’s happening.

“I… I don’t know how to…” The veins in his hands, they lined perfectly to the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on his knuckles. Clear as day now that he wasn’t hidden under a dim light. “I just…”

He had his hands around his face, rubbing his temples, his cheeks, his nose, anything that could alleviate the accelerating drill of his heartbeat. 

You were hopeful to get an answer out of him. A proper explanation. But it pained you, knowing that in a few seconds—what he would tell you would only confirm your yearning suspicions of his strange behavior.

He doesn’t love you anymore. He’s cheating. You’ve become a nuisance, an absolute bore in his life. Actually, you’re a bad influence on him. You’re holding him back. He needs to let go of you to accomplish better things. He never loved you.

It’s happening. It’s fucking happening. All he has to do is say those words. The dreaded five words you’ve heard once from him in a nightmare.

I want to break up.

“If you want to break up, just say it.” 

It sounded softer in your head, but the tears that had welled in your eyes finally bursted into droplets. They ran down your cheeks, and your voice broke during its pursuit. 

Something commanded you to let those words slip out. 

Maybe it was the ghost that you and him had been theorizing about since the night you’ve helped him move into the apartment floor above you. Carrie; you nicknamed her, and Peter would scold you for doing so because he had the suspicions that giving her a backstory would ultimately reassess his home as a possessing ground. To this day, he swore he saw a shadow looming in the corner of his room on a perfectly stormy night.

Or maybe it was the months of frustration that you had accumulated, snowballed because of your own selfish reasons to continue being with Peter for as long as you could, even if you saw the signs, because you couldn’t bear to see yourself without him. Live, when you two had promised so many futures together.

“What? No, (M/N), that’s not—“ He jolted up at the mere mention of separating from you. There was a chill. The room suddenly felt colder, and then warmer—scorching hot, when the glossiness of your gaze reflected into his. He began joining you by your side. “Hey, hey, I would never—“

He broke into a cold sweat. He’d never seen you like this. And to think that he was the root of this—of your pain—it was all overwhelming.

“Peter, there’s always something going on with you. Y-you don’t text me for days. You ignore my calls. You disappear without telling me. You’re always late. And… you’re always hurt? And you think that I’m dumb enough to not notice that you aren’t? How you’re limping? How you’re always bruised and—For god’s sake, Peter, I’m just as smart as you, we have the same GPA and—“ You took a breather, a gulp because you were rambling now. Your cheeks felt hot, from your sudden outburst and from embarrassment, because the latter half of your rant immediately negated the idea of some kind of affair.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t cheating, but—“ You felt him tug you into his arms, but you wouldn’t budge. Instead, you pushed away, edging to the other side of the bed to face him.

“I would never.” He sighed, his arms dropping as soon as you removed yourself from his embrace. 

“Then what is it? You’re leaving me in the dark here. I barely see you anymore, you know that?”

“I know.” He was biting his lips. Chewing, as if he was internally debating something. A decision that could either ruin you, ruin him, or both.

“Then?”

You waited. Watched his fingers fiddle with one another as he continued turning the screws in his head. Your heart would jump whenever he would open his mouth, anticipating whatever had caused so much turmoil in his life, but there was a last minute decision that kept him silent.

Crickets.

Nothing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re doing. But you’re getting hurt and I’m just… worried.” Your gaze dropped to his hands again. Pale, veiny, and full of life yet they’ve looked like they’ve been worn out. Torn. “At least tell me it’s not gambling.”

“Well—in a way with my life, it kind of is like gambling—“ He thinly smiled, hoping it would at least make you crack a smile.

“Peter!” You scoffed, nudged his side with your elbow out of frustration, then surrendered when you brought your knees up to your chest, and buried your head in between your knees. “Not funny.”

“Okay, okay, just… you can’t tell anyone.” His voice softened.

“We all know that between you and I, you’re the one with the running mouth.” Your voice muffled in the space between your legs, hands tucked around your nape.

“I’m serious, (M/N)” Pleading now, he held your hand in hopes to get ahold of your attention again, squeezing so you’d look at him. You do.

“I won’t tell.” It was a promise. Peter didn’t need you to clarify because he could see it in your eyes, honest and sincere. Determined, as if you were willing to protect him.

“Okay… and also, don’t… freak out.” Peter was off the bed now, wandering in the middle of his room as he rolled his shoulders back, relaxing the muscles in his back like a wrestler preparing for his next fight. He gestured for you to follow him out to the stairway, out into the cold. 

“Why would I freak—“ There was something around his wrist. No, wrists. You thought they were watches, but there were two devices around him. They were strapped with a similar black leather to your wallet, to Peter’s, and a red button protruded in the middle of it. “Peter, what are you—“

You stopped a few feet before Peter, watching him closely, yet afar. Afraid, yet intrigued. Concerned, because he was on the ledge of the staircase now, perched like an animal. Yet there was a grin on his face. Not crazed like a madman considering he was acting like one, but foolish. Goofy, giddy like the times he’d hide stuff from you, and wait until you’d notice it was gone.

“Like I said, don’t freak out.” 

“Peter, what are you even—“

With that, he opened his arms like wings that spanned across his back and flipped into the air as if the wind would carry him across city to city. As if he was recruited as a sponsor to the heavenly gods with the incredible height he’d taken off in, pursuing the clouds, the wind, the stars, and the night simultaneously all in multiple slings.

Into. The. Air.

Into the fucking air.

You raced forward with a yelp, as if you would’ve made it in time to catch him. To catch his hand before he fell. To hold him one last time before he’d land on the ground and shatter every bone in his body.

If he had landed. 

No, you blinked once—twice—no, at least in the double digits because this was all a dream. It was all a dream, right? That you caught a glimpse of Peter somehow slingshotting himself from window to window, from rooftop to satellite, like it was a mundane day job one had to endure to put food on the table, to pay the bills.

Right?

You paced around the stairs, raced towards one floor to another, bending over the railings because—Peter disappeared. He was gone. If he had smashed into something, you would’ve heard him. You would’ve heard him in yelp in pain. You would’ve heard the metal railings shake. You would’ve heard him cry for help. 

Instead, you heard the sound of wind. Whistling as it sailed leaves to the west of you. 

As if it carried a hint along the way.

“Peter?! Peter—Fuck, fuck!” You followed the sound of the whistle. The source of the pitchy sound. Fluttering when your head spun closer to the note, wavering when you were getting colder, then peaking when your gaze lifted, higher, and higher, until it landed on him.

Peter.

Peter, perched over the rooftop of the apartment complex like a bug. The moonlight framed his silhouette, emphasized the texture of his suit; protruding grids that encased him like a nest; and you’ve never been more intimidated. 

Red and blue spandex tightly-fitted over the muscles and body of the man you have been more than well-acquainted with. You’ve seen it before. It was familiar. On the news, on the papers, on the internet.

“You’re freaking out!” He yelled out, clearly amused in your frozen state of shock.

He peered over at you with a smug grin, aimed directly at your bafflement before pulling a mask over his head. It was the icing on top in rendering you utterly incapable of stringing up any words. The lens of his mask reflected off of you, mirrored your astonishment in clear display, and you sensed that would be a memory Peter would be carrying to his death bed.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Okay, so, just to clarify,” You were winded, still recovering from the heart attack Peter had nearly given you after he took you on for a stroll in the night. Into the sky.

Luckily his bed was right beside you. As soon as your legs gave out, you fell back into his mattress, and stared into the ceiling, speechless. Peter joined you after, bringing you into his arms. He’d always been aware that touching you in any way or form brought you back to reality. “You are… not a cosplayer?”

“Honestly? That would make me way more money than what I’m making right now.” You couldn’t keep your hands or eyes off of him. Peter was still in his suit, and that gave you the perfect opportunity to run your hands over the webbed texture of the spandex.

“Just a few more months until my lease is up. I can move in, and that’ll help with the rent. For both of us.” It felt like silicone, or rubber. Whatever it was, it was durable considering how thin it felt in your fingers when you rubbed it in between them.

“Just like that? You’re not mad?” Your hands came to a halt when Peter suddenly took them, and rested your palm on his cheek, coincidentally on the cut that you’ve never noticed. 

“Why would I be mad?” Quieter. Your voice mellowed into a whisper as you catalogued the amount of beatings his skin had taken. Caressed the marks you were too selfish to notice. Exhaustion wore on his face, and yet he never looked so peaceful as he gazed into your eyes. 

Pretty eyes, Peter thought. Ones that could motivate him to get back up after falling. That feels nice, when you pressed a kiss to his damaged skin. A touch that made him believe there was a reason to suffer, to be great, to be all of this.

“Well, for starters, it’s your birthday and… I completely blew it.” Peter closed his eyes when you began brushing his hair back, knotted in cold sweats, but you fanned your fingers out to undo them until they felt somewhat tidy in your strokes. Smooth and soft. He sighed, “Again.”

“Can’t entirely blame you. How would I look if I were to complain about missing you, when you’re out there risking your life for everyone?” It wasn’t a question, but you wanted him to look at you. To respond. And he does, when you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he returned it with a silken one, a following grin. “All I wish for was that you told me sooner, I guess.”

“Yeah,” He figured he’d save the details of the ‘friends’ he had made along the way some other time. For now, it was all about you. “Wow, you’re not even going to wish for me to be safe?”

“Hey, you know what I mean! That’s a given.” You rubbed at his chest, finding yourself quickly accustomed to the scales of his costume. The red was striking against your palms, comforting almost. 

“Still. I want to hear you say it.” Peter rolled onto his side and slipped an arm under your back, scooting closer to you. His signature goofy grin never failed to knock a similar one out of you. And unwillingly drawn out, when he began pinching at your sides in quick snips.

“Stop—“ You laughed, your hands occupying themselves to defend your body from his quick attacks. But Peter was fast, avoiding your arms and hands to find another opening that you’d abandon. “Stop, stop! Stay safe! Happy?!”

Closer and closer, you found yourself beneath him, framed by his body as he took your arms above your head and pinned them secured with his tight grasps.“Incredibly.”

Your legs spread open to make room for his body, only for Peter to wrap them around his waist, to press his body into you, kissing you like he was driven to steal your breath.

“This your way of making it up to me?” You broke apart from the kiss, only briefly, before the taste of Peter, the softness of his lips reeled you back in for another kiss. Languidly paced until one’s accelerating lust for one another had taken ahold of the wheel and shifted gears, into a weightiness that kept your mouth parted open while Peter’s impulse to explore you had become evidently clear.

“Problem with that?” He’d been driving his hips into you, grinding his front with your own. Both clothed, infuriatingly covered, but the pressure in between your bulge and Peter’s was too pleasing to ignore. Too satisfying to make him stop. “I should take this off—“

“No, wait—“ You grabbed his forearm when he reached back to unzip his suit. To be honest, you never thought about how he even got in or out of the suit in the first place, but that was beside the point. Something about this suit, this costume, whatever you wanted to call it; it was a turn-on. 

The way it fit snug against Peter’s body; how every fiber of muscle was stretching the material to its limit. Maybe you were just turned on because you associated it with him being a hero. For god’s sake, that was as much of an aphrodisiac one could be if you happened to be saved from a falling tower. 

Or maybe, it was simply how Peter looked in it. Unabashedly handsome, yet himself, seemingly courting you further into his webs, as if he hadn’t already from day one.

“Keep it on. I like it.” You muttered, fiddling with the collar of his suit. It was snapped on tight, but you managed to slip a finger or two past, to pull at it with a stretch.

“Then how are we going to…” He abandoned the few inches he had unzipped, providing a small relief to the squeeze around his body while his broad back was bare and tense towards the ceiling. 

“Then, you’ll take it off. But for now, I just want to…” One hand was on his nape, pulling him down for another heated kiss, while the other traveled south between your body and his. Further, lower, until you cupped him at his crotch. Rubbing, squeezing, and palming at the thick, growing center. “Want to try something…”

You could feel him smiling, a crooked one flattened against your own grin when he whispered, “I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I.”

“You think?”

You were getting harder, your pants beginning to tighten around the center as you palmed him. It was a heavy handful in the beginning, but Peter’s bulge began to unfurl. It didn’t take long, didn’t take much of a stroke for him to unravel from his tuck and thicken into a full-blown erection towards the left side of his thigh. It pointed downwards, the plump head evident through his suit, and you were beginning to drool in Peter’s mouth at the haziest image of it.

“Come on, I need to get out of this… It’s killing me.” It wasn’t like Peter to beg. It was charming, cute, sexy, all the synonyms that could describe how you felt all day and every day about him, and you squeezed, because he wasn’t being patient with you.

“Birthday boy gets what he wants, don’t you think?” He winched into your mouth, and you swallowed him. Swallowed every ounce of breath, and breathed it back out with a kiss. Sloppy, heavy, your tongue weighing on his because you wanted to keep his lips apart, mouth open to hear his moans.

Peter grunted again once you began stroking his cock, touching him like it was a delicate plate of chin. Fingertips only, dusting him off with little pressure so he wouldn’t shatter.

“What are you going to do about it, hm?” You continued your short, limp strokes. “Just going to take it? Hm?” Your wrist was weak, lazy as it became limp to tease him even more. Peter sucked in a breath, doing his best to maintain his composure, but it was all futile, all those attempts of sucking in his lip to chew, to hold back his moans, because you’d slap his clothed cock, grasp it tight in your hand, and massage as much as you could gather.

“Fuck, baby—“ You had him under your control. Even if his hands were free, you knew he wouldn’t lay a finger on you. He knew that if he did, you’d stop touching him, stop stimulating the blood running down every vein of his cock, fueling his erection. His desires. 

He couldn’t let that happen. Not after the day, the week, the months that he’d been having. 

You and Peter eventually switched places: Peter resting on his back while you sat in between his legs, marveling at the stretch of his suit. Somehow, his cock looked bigger than you’d remember. Squished and pressed flush against his thigh like this. The suit was like a magnet, inviting your hand back to his cock and refusing to let you go.

“Just relax.” You commanded him. He was watching you slouched up against the headboard, gravity weighing his eyelids lower. With his legs spread apart, he provided you excess space as you began massaging his right thigh with your free hand. “Is this okay?”

“Mm-hm...” He knew you were talking about the pressure on his thigh, but the strokes over his cock remained supreme in his mind. Championed through as you pressed harder into the shaft, massaging tenderly from vein to vein. The protruding webbed texture of his suit pressed into him, rolled against cock like the inside of a fleshlight, ultimately adding onto the already gratifying pleasure. 

It was glorious.

“More…” Peter gritted through his teeth, a selfish need for more escaping from his lips in huffs. Grunts, when you’d fulfill his wish with two hands now, kneading his cock like dough. 

Thick, stiff, throbbing dough.

Before the complaints could come pouring in, you shimmied your pants off in a hurry, tossing it in the corner before greedily climbing onto Peter’s lap. It was like he read your mind, perhaps another secret that he’d been hiding, because he immediately took you into his arms. An embrace, a tight one that grounded you against his bulge, pressing your body weight until it restricted the blood flowing into his erection, as well as preventing an escape.

“You’re so hard…” You marveled at how rigid he’d gotten under you, grinding your ass against the large mass, beating and throbbing with every rut.

“I’m so hard.” He confirmed, complained, and bragged all in one smile. He then took you by the nape to kiss you again. Hard on the mouth, slow with his tongue to taste you and your desires, his desires. His other hand rested on the small of your back, guiding your grinds at first before his fingers looped into your waistband, tugging once before stuffing the strap under your ass cheeks. Your hard-on was the only thing keeping the cotton material from slipping off while you continued grating your hips. “Just like that…”

To make it easier for you, Peter repositioned his erection so it was facing north, towards his navel, in its sublime mass. Your briefs had been tossed to the side now, completely bare bottomed against him while you mounted over him, and rode in needy strides. It was a sight to behold, something that Peter reckoned he should savor. He folded his arms behind his head, providing a self-made cushion for the weight of it, and watched you. It was entrancing, like a dance. You swiveled your hips to a ghosting rhythm, one that could only be heard between two hearts, two parties, between the two of you, man to man.

“Like this…?” Breathless, you unbuttoned your shirt open, but left it present on your body. Sweat formed over your neck, dribbled down to your bare and exposed chest;  it was practically an open-invitation for Peter to ravish you. And so he did, with a haunting groan as he held you, contained you in the warmth of his arms as he simultaneously pulled you forward, and pushed himself off the headboard to meet you in the middle.

He kissed you on the neck, achingly hard when he sucked, and then enthralling, sweat-inducing when he bit into your skin. He couldn’t contain himself. You tasted too good, and it’d been too long since he had you just like this. “Just like that. Your cock against my cock, fuck. I love it so fucking much.” He muttered hot against your neck, panting because he was sweating too. The spandex felt tighter on his skin, constricting against him with every drop of sweat.

“Oh, fuck…” His lips had latched onto your nipples now. Peter’s tongue worked magic on your two nubs, flicking and swirling over their perkiness until you felt swollen. Raw, when he bit, pulled, bit, and bit again. You buried your face into his hair, rocking yourself back and forth with your arms holding him close to your chest, gliding your cock against his print as if a gun was pointed to your head, like your life depended on making Peter come.

You were delirious, humping Peter without a single thought other than to get him off, and you’d reckon that was the goal lingering in Peter’s head as he began rocking back into you. It took a while for him to find your rhythm, chasing after it in slower, sluggish beats, but eventually he caught up to you, snapping his hips against your own, grinding his cock against yours like two crescent moons caressing the other’s curvature.

“Close…” He muttered into your shoulder. Your shirt was hanging off, exposing more of your skin, but Peter made sure you didn’t feel a single chill with the marks he had followed up with soon after. It was like he had done it on purpose. Made you feel safe in his arms, comfortable in the warmth of his body, worshiped with the amount of care he had given your body. Frozen, when you felt something prod at your pucker. Then enraptured, when Peter pushed a wet finger inside of you. 

Tremors, chilling tremors ran down your spine as you took the single digit Inside of you with one determined push. “Fuck—“ Your back arched, chest pushed forward towards him, and your hips jolted forward in one strong, and delicious swipe against Peter’s cock. “Peter…”

It was a mouthwatering display of food before him. The perky nubs on your chest, the veins in your neck, the mole on your body, the strain of your thighs on overdrive, the swollen head of your cock; Peter didn’t know what to lay his finger on first, what to mouth on, what to kiss, and suck, and latch onto until you’d scream. Whichever it was, he knew you were desperate for him. Begging, sweating, whimpering, for Peter to lay a finger on you. Another finger inside of you now, and you rolled your eyes at the stretch he was providing you with, a fulfilling wish that startled your hips once more.

“You’re so good, so good for me…” Peter was staring up at you, marveling at the layer of sweat on your body. It glistened with every movement, dripped heavily with every thrust of Peter’s fingers, and tasted just like how he remembered. Salty when he licked up your neck, up your chest, against your nipples, and repeated. Your body was his, and Peter was determined to let the world know. Determined to remind you in case that you’d forgotten.

Your hands were wandering. Grabbing and touching at anything and everything that could linger in between your fingers. Peter’s hair, his head, shoulders, chest, your cock and his, his back. Everything. You couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Even if he was covered from head to toe, you were touching him. Because he was yours.

“Gonna come—“ You cupped Peter’s jaw to straighten his posture, to kiss him sloppily on the mouth, and he pulled his fingers out of you, resting them on either side of your hips as he joined you once again in grinding hips. The pleasure was overbearing, drilling into each individual brain until the smallest movement would render you both speechless. Panting in slurred moans of each other’s names, of profanities that you two had rarely used in your lifetime on earth.

“Me too…” Peter pushed himself on top of you now. Your arms were tied around his neck, tighter than the necktie he had on prior, and your legs; they wrapped around his waist equally secured, if not even tighter, as he thrusted against you. 

You were too distracted, unable to respond to Peter’s constant licks in your mouth. He was desperate for you, suckling on your tongue and chasing after it once it slipped out because of your moans. They were rattling, each breath immediately vaulted in the back of Peter’s throat because he couldn’t part from you. Couldn’t imagine a life where he would. And if he had to, at least he’d have a part of you inside of him. Even if it was a whisper. 

He thrusted harder, panting into your mouth, his nose practically smushed flat against yours. He wondered if you could imagine that life, a life without him.

“P-Pete—Shit, I’m—“ Your fingers dug into his nape, grounding him impossibly closer to you when that feeling had suddenly come to stun you in place. 

It simmered hard in your stomach, then to a rolling boil as it traveled lower to your pelvis. You squeezed your stomach, clenched your toes, and your eyes widened when Peter’s hips showed no signs of faltering. Your cock swelled and your balls jolted, tightened, until you finally saw stars bursting into flames and let gravity have it come crashing down on you. Shivers had you enclose your arms around Peter, holding onto him tight as you felt yourself crumble and spill all over your chest and his suit. You came with a gritted grunt of his name, sinking your nails into his nape because you had nowhere else to channel your spasms as Peter kept rocking against you, drunkenly astonished by how you came for him. By how much you needed him.

It didn’t take long before Peter came right after. He buried his head into your neck, stifling moans into the heat of your neck, clammy with sweat, yet comforting as he filled the inside of his suit with thick, large loads. You felt his cock throb against you when you reached down to help, to ride out his orgasm to the fullest. His cock pulsed as you’d imagine several thick pumps of his load would gush out and uncomfortably layer his navel. If only his suit hadn’t been waterproof, because there was no doubt that he would’ve been leaking out of it by now.

You’ve never been so jealous of spandex.

He was hot in your ear, panting, breathing you in, then breathing you out as you slowed the strokes on his softening cock. Then a sudden inhale, a jolt of his body, when you squeezed hard, to seal the deal in covering the entirety of his cock in his own cum. It was filthy. It was shameless. It was Peter.

“Driving me crazy here…” Peter sluggishly lifted himself off of you to face you, a sleepy smile plastered across his face as you kept kneading at his cock, increasingly sensitive with every second.

“Not enough to drive you away, right?” You smiled, drowsy yourself as you quickly found your high coming to a crash. Though, you mustered enough strength to hold Peter’s cheek in your palm, tenderly caressing, to which he immediately kissed as soon as it reintroduced itself. 

Peter sighed, holding your gaze for what felt like minutes, and yet you wished it could be for longer. 

It was different this time, the way he looked at you. The same amount of love and warmth, yes. But they no longer wavered, no longer tried to find something else to look at in case you were prying about. 

“Never.” 

Instead, they stilled, relaxed the longer you stared into him, into those brown eyes of his, because you were in now. 

You were finally in his life.

How much you needed him?  His question had been answered.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[sillylittleg00ber]

AWWWW WHY R THEY SO SCRUMDILLYUMPTIOUS 🥹