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tarjapearce · 5 months

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Crimson Crown (Pt. 6)

Royal AU! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Thanks to @pinkiemme for the amazing cover ✨

Summary: You beat Miguel to take the first step.

A/N: Thanks for the patience 🥹❤️. Hope you enjoy ~

The heavy footsteps echoed through the dark alleys of the city, lost into the forever echo of Arachne's capital. Stony roads lead to different places, but the cloaked figure's path lead to a tavern. More to the underground facade of the place, to a secluded and exclusive area.

The oak door was knocked with a characteristical bang, A little slot within was slid open, just to reveal a pair of beady eyes. The cloaked figure smirked upon hearing the locks turn and pull until the hefty door was open, allowing them in.

"You're alone."

"Yeah" the cloaked man removed his disguise and downed a pint of beer before reuniting with the others, that like him, were awaiting for his presence to start their clandestine reunion. Dressed up to mingle with the shadows.

"The king has increased the security in the east prison."

"That's a problem if we want our mercenaries out."

"What about Fisk? Tell him to send some of his men undercover to scout the area."

Another man grunted in response.

"He also is a king with responsibilities. Getting an audience with him alone takes time."

"Then what the fuck are you waiting for?"

The other man scowled as he pulled a knife out of the many pockets his suit allowed him to carry. And that unleashed a domino effect as the rest either pulled guns or more knives.

The dark and makeshift reunion was made with five men and a young boy, that didn't pass his sixteens.

"Hey! If you wanna fight someone, save those energies for the king-"

"The king has been too busy to care. His new toy has him quite preoccupied."

A brow was quirked, "New toy?"

"A princess."

"Well, ain't that wonderful?"

"Great. Now we have to remake our plan."

"No, no. What are you talking about? If we don't attack now, our chance will be for naught."

"You truly want to go ahead with a plan when we're missing our most important associates? I'd love to see you try to take on the king yourself."

The jeering words flew constantly between some members of the little gathering.

"Seems like you forget why he is called The Red King."

A roll of eyes and a dismissive gesture made the man to keep interrogating.

"So what about the princess?"

"We need more information about her."

The youngest cleared his throat and spoke.

"She's a Thelerian."

There was a collective round of not so surprised and bored 'ahs' from the men.

"No wonder why there is Arachne's soldiers in the West Passage and the borders."

"Borders? Through the city. Even within the castle!."

"Guess the old trick of 'I sell my daughter to you for protection' always works."

"She wasn't sold. Their wedding is a month and a half away."

"This is bad."

There was another pregnant silence before the teen spoke again.

"She's a doctor."

"Of course she is. Damned Thelerians. Always meddling with our affairs one way or another."

"They're strangers."

"Oh?"

The boy spoke as everyone's eyes settled on him.

"What do you mean strangers, boy?"

"They don't get that much along. King just talks to her when necessary."

The interest shone in the many pair of eyes. One face contorted into a smirk.

"Of course he does. I'd be surprised if he'd still get his cock functioning after being so inactive."

There was a combined titter and malicious giggles from them as the joke was told.

"There will be a meeting soon. With the council. I'll take my guess that he's introducing her to it."

"Told you this boy would be useful."

"Of course, it was my idea."

"Hey, you filthy rats... stop playing and listen. Is there anything else you can tell us about this princess?"

The boy shrugged.

"What do I get in return?"

"What did you just say, boy?"

The eldest man mumbled, clearly vexed by the plucky and defying attitude of the boy.

"I said, what do I get in return? All of you have something to win over this plan. And so far I've been used as a spy. I think it's fair if I get something back."

"And what would you possibly want?"

"I'll take it when I see it."

"Right."

"Anyways, Let Fisk know we need him. We gotta get that big brawn twerp before The King gets to him first."

"Oh god, not Rhino."

"Shut up. As much as I hate him too, he's useful. We need him."

"Stay in the castle. Find out where he was last seen."

The man spoke to the boy, that only stared back with a piercing gaze.

"Even though the princess is a new addition to the plan, it only gives us a new advantage. Political marriages are a thing, so we gotta make the most out of it."

"She recently visited her parents. Apparently the king fell ill after his mistress tried to poison him."

Another laugh.

"See? This is why exactly I've been telling you that Theleria will fall by it's own king's hand. We don't even need to meddle with them."

"True that."

"What about Prince Gabriel?"

A solemn silence fell on the stony and secluded room.

"Keep that fool busy. If we can make he gets sent away even better. Less to worry about."

"And the princess?"

"Keep an eye on her."

-------

Nervous and anxious was an underestimation on how you really felt. You were sure the insides of your cheeks were nearly chewed raw as you waited outside the grand wooden doors, just as Peter had instructed a few moments ago. Your knees trembled underneath the layers of your dress, palms became sweaty and your breaths a bit more shallow.

The day to finally meet the council, had arrived. The past two days were spent solely on your studies about Arachne and the current situations surrounding the kingdom. You tried to cram up as much info as possible, but what truly would be judged was your criterion on things and how well you could adapt to the situations.

Royalty expected so much, and hopefully you'd pass this evaluation. It was unavoidable to not feel curious as to why councils held almost the same amount of power as The king himself. Back in her kingdom, councils remained as an extra help, and as much as a mistress indulging your father, King Blanchard was, he took his ruling seriously.

Councils were summoned when your parents needed to keep updated in the things that needed to be done. But again, different kingdoms, different customs.

The doors slid open to reveal none other than Miguel himself, motioning for you to come in. The room was large and so was the war table, as people gathered around it. A total of six, you and Miguel made eight in total.

There had never been another chair at the top of the table, cause there was no need for another one. Until now. You sit next to Miguel. Eyes settled on you.

Some with hardened expressions you couldn't quite pinpoint as to why of their sudden and implicit hostility, others regarded you curiously.

Jessica, Ben and Peter joined not long after.

"Now, that we're all in, let us begin."

"Your majesty."

Everyone bowed to Miguel and soon an elder lady spoke.

"As you may know, the nether lands are asking for an audience with you ever since some months ago. They will not stop until you've listened to them, apparently."

Her tone was tired, a little annoyed but respectful nonetheless.

"What is it what they want anyways, May?"

"For you to lower their taxes on seasonal products."

"Can't do if they charge as twice for imports that are brought out of time. And recreating their things is proven to be even more expensive."

Miguel sighed while resting his cheek on his knuckles.

"Lower them a two percent."

"But, my lord! You lowered them already last month!"

Another man spoke, pointing at the outside lands out of Enethor. Your eyes frowned upon seeing the distance to travel and import. Miguel looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

"What do you think, Princesa?"

"W-Well, taxes are quite important for the kingdom, and so are the seasonal products the merchants offer, naturally, they'd ask to lower the taxes"

Some scoffed at the obvious information, but you kept talking.

"Why don't lower the taxes in the plot of lands they use?"

"Care to explain that?"

"Look at it this way, the cheaper the land, more opportunities they have to create more jobs"

"So basically making the rich, richer."

You frowned at the tempting words from another man.

"No. A mutual help, sir. By lowering the prices, there will be no need for them to travel such great distances, and subsequently they won't raise their prices on the market. Because they'll produce what they can here."

May seemed to consider your words as the rest discussed.

"Do you use this in your kingdom, your highness?"

Another man, Ben Parker spoke with genuine curiosity.

"We do. Since Theleria produces medicines, we cannot be picky when it comes to import the finest materials for it. We want to help others. Not monopolise health."

"How... benevolent of you. Though I'm quite surprised you allow such thing, when your kingdom is the tiniest among the continent."

Another man, Darko D'Angelo spoke.

"Yet, with all due respect, none has taken our place as the main supplier of medicines in the continent, sir."

Miguel smirked as you took a discreet deep inhale. It was unavoidable to feel angered when someone tried to belittle Theleria.

"Now, now, let's get our attention focused on what truly needs to be discussed."

The council expanded on various topics, even though the start was a bit rocky, there were times where you actually felt included and taken in consideration. May Parker seemed on a neutral line. And so was Ben Parker. Another amusing thing, was to know that there were so many Parkers and Ben's within the ranks.

They all seemed connected to the need to fight for what was good, and Miguel slead them all on. It made your heart to leap a bit in your chest as your eyes settled on him, discreetly.

For a dark king everyone assumed him to be, he had been one of the kindest, wisest and considerate man with a deep love for his kingdom you've ever met.

Jessica couldn't help but elbow Peter to witness the look you were giving him. An absolutely fascinated one. That turned into a blushing stare the more he spoke about the revamps he wanted to do into the esthetics ways of Arachne.

The council had discussed many things he had neglected, like arts and other needs revolving around them. You were so temped into taking his hand and ask him personally to let you handle it. That you would help him and not disappoint him.

But the same man from before changed the mood and the conversation's route so quickly fast it had cut you short to prepare yours and the rest's replies.

"I think your highness should focus in producing heirs, instead of feeding the needs of a little bunch that hold no productivity besides entertaining momentarily the rest."

"Ser Darko."

May warned but another man spoke.

"Baron D'Angelo is right. You see, we are at the verge of war-"

"Against who, my lord?"

You questioned and if the men could kill with their looks, you'd be a cold body by now. Their subtle and not so discreet disdain over your ideas an opinions hadn't go unnoticed, specially by Baron D'Angelo, who seemed fixated into getting any sort of negative reaction from you.

"Against who?! How preposterous of you to believe we are in times of peace, when outside the continent there is so many enemies that want to invade us, princess."

If it wasn't for the warning glare Miguel shot him, he could've kept rambling about how naive you were.

"My apologies, ser. Has anything been done to appease their intentions?"

"It's not something you can't just fix by talking to them, princess. That it has worked for you and your people means it will work for us."

"But have you tried dialogue? Know the cause of their-"

"Again, we've tried anything.-"

"Not to sound disrespectful, ser. It's clear I need to know more of Arachne,-"

"Indeed."

Your brow quirked at what he had just said

"And I know that some kingdoms reject dialogue or any peaceful solution before it's has been offered," You took a breath, testing carefully your words., "But it does seems odd their stance of attacking, remains after the supposed peace offerings."

"We've known these realms for so long that a pacific solution has been discarded eons ago."

You blinked, but it was a good chance to put the spotlight on the both. It was clear that they loved to engage in war. Which concerned you.

"So, you're assuming they want war, and you're ready to engage without giving a chance for real words to be treated?"

"With all due respect, princess. Thelerian pacifist and foreign outlooks towards Arachne's belic conflicts are everything but helpful."

Miguel's jaw clenched, and so did Peter's. Tension in the room was heavier and denser than a black hole. He was set to make you angry, and it was hard to not bait into his game, but like your mother, you kept it calm and composed, even though you wanted to put a little datura into his drink.

"Quite ironic how roles invert here, ser D'Angelo."

"Beg your pardon?"

His voice came a bit louder and annoyed than he had intended to.

"Even though I do agree that I must know more about Arachne, I believe you must expand your knowledge in Theleria. Not the one you all now know. But the one before being The Fallen Kingdom."

Darko scowled but remained quiet, letting his haughty look to speak for him.

" What about it?"

"Theleria has been one of the most ancient lands of this continent, ser. And the one that has the most antique monarchy lines through Enethor."

"So?"

"It happens that we turned into a fallen kingdom by being exactly as you voice your opinion."

"And how is that?"

"Closed to any other option that wasn't war. And look at us now, ser. May the creator above forbid this land to fall under the same curse we have."

"That's... That's not gonna happen."

"It might happen if you keep refusing what you have overlooked so far."

"Are you threatening Arachne, your majesty?"

"I am not. I have no power to stand against your armies, ser. But only a fool would take a fair epitome of what happens when acting recklessly, as a threat."

Baron Darko's mouth gaped as his eyes widened in disbelief. How dared you to play him like that? Even worst in his own game.

"Or so is what my mother always says."

The other man that had initially been with him had kept quiet in the whole exchange. Watching and listening to the verbal spar where you had gotten by a few inches the upper hand.

"I am not opposed to war, gentlemen. But, like I said to the king once, if I am able to prevent unnecessary bloodshed, I will."

There wasn't much said after that, little pleasantries and polite goodbyes from your end, made you exit your room. Head high, even if the whole meeting was a fiasco, you would've still held your head high. Your legs shook as Peter followed you. A subtle yet knowing smile plastered on his lips.

In the room, however things weren't done. Not when Baron D'Angelo and Lady May approached.

"You still refuse to give us an answer when it comes to have heirs, your majesty."

"They'll come when the time is right."

Miguel didn't want to dwell into the subject. Children sure were in his list, but responsibilities had taken so much away from him already, that he forgot about them. He was past his thirties, and he could die in battle, leaving no heirs to follow his legacy.

"I guess the time is approaching sooner than we think, your majesty. What if the future queen is unable to conceive?"

His eyes narrowed at Darko's words. Even though his yapping was irksome, he had a fair point.

"As much as I differ with Baron Darko, you know the rules of this game, your majesty."

Lady May spoke with the same tired tone in her voice from before.

"The princess will bear the future heir of Arachne."

Miguel's words made Darko to tense and frown.

"But she knows so little about us! We don't know if her kingdom will remain loyal to us in a future if trouble arises, my lord."

He rubbed his hands nervously as Miguel sheathed his sword on his hip.

"Please, consider your other options, in case the princess is unable to-"

A hand dressed in the obsidian claw made the sharp fingertips to hold on Darko's chin, tips softly prickling at his skin.

"She will. Not your daughter. Am I clear?"

The Baron could only nod with a difficult gulp.

----

Miguel had taken a small break from all that just happened, Jessica had the most shit eating smile one could muster.

"She will, huh?"

"Aren't those the rules?"

"You seem a bit too enthusiastic about following those certain rules."

"I'm getting old, and they keep pestering me."

Miguel mumbled before removing his armor and plop on his ever trusting chair.

"You have to do something regarding Dana first."

"I know."

"Or else-"

"Jessica... I know."

His commander and right hand sighed, but preferred to change topics.

"Guess she has a temper after all."

A faint chuckle escaped Jessica's lips.

"Why did you assume she didn't?"

"She's not precisely someone that strikes me as vindictive, or demand her father's mistress death."

Miguel huffed an airy laugh while slicking his hair back, pensive.

"Peter explained why she... got so upset regarding that situation. Makes sense."

"So, you're knowing eachother more?"

"Apparently."

Jessica rolled her eyes with an exasperated grunt.

"She seems a little too fascinated with you, you know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Back in the council. She was giving you these dreamy puppy eyes."

Miguel's lips twitched in a little smile.

"So you better make a move, before someone else fool but brave enough does."

Bushy eyebrows furrowed. And only deepened when Jessica tossed a little envelope, smelling like roses and other pleasant herbs before going away.

For my muse.

The scribbled words were almost as stylish and perfect as yours, definitely another Thelerian.

Who dared to be foolish enough to pursue something out of his reach? He gave a quick reading to the letter and scoffed at the maudlin words. Not that he blamed the man for feeling so intensely.

After what transpired today, it felt like a little switch was turned on in him. It wasn't an outcome he had expected, but the balance had been tipped in your favor. Not entirely, but had enough member's approval to reaffirm his choice.

And he had to thank you for leaving those harrying members that demanded from him a heir, behind with their mouth shut for long enough.

Darko however always seemed to favor Dana. At first, they all agreed that the main mistress should occupy the throne. But Miguel never really regarded such things. Too busy fighting enemies in allied countries and waging political wars to actually have a pause and produce the next line of descendants.

He didn't know it if was coincidence or something greater than him that put that passageway in his path, and now not only had a true reason to get married, but someone that shared his convictions and dreams for his country.

And, he was sure his future heirs would be beautiful.

Just like you.

The letter had annoyed him, but also amused him. A man that had only saw you and spoke to you twice, put all his feelings in the letter that was turned into ashes by now.

But he had to give that fool some credit. Unlike him, he knew how to express and convey his feelings without any apparent issue, yet he wasn't able to talk about something else that wasn't work and duties related.

With a sigh, he changed into a more casual attire and picked his sword. Then, ventured in his palace, looking for you.

----

You were about to leave for the gardens to take the afternoon tea with Margo and Gwen when Miguel's shadow loomed over from your bedroom's doorframe. A little jolt buzzed through your body, startling you.

"My lord, not to be... disrespectful but, I think it's time for you to knock on my door."

Miguel chuckled and motioned for you to come closer.

"Come. Follow me."

With a quirk of your eyebrow, you obeyed and followed him. Long legs took him further as you tried your utter best to keep up with him. Miguel's ears perked at the sound of your steps hastily following him. A pleased smile was etched in his face to then suddenly stop before a room.

With a deep sigh and a bit of pantings, you also stopped.

"Close your eyes, Princesa."

"W-What?"

"Close your eyes. Please."

The confused look in your face made his eyes soften and a smile to stretch wider as you obeyed him once more.

Quite compliant

And oh so pretty. His eyes stared at your face for what seemed forever, time had stopped specially when his deep ruby eyes stared at your lips, and then trailed themselves down to the collarbone. Before his eyes could rake you over, his throat was cleared and he opened the doors for you.

He then gave your lower back a gentle push for you to move forward. He took your hand and guided you inside. Warm fingers curling softly on his big and weathered hands.

He took you further into the room, the scent of the ever familiar herbs and flowers filled in your lungs, subduing your rising nervousness.

"Open them."

You did, and your heart beat with such strenght you had to clutch harder on his hand at the sight. It was a much more advanced laboratory from what you had back at Theleria.

In one side, you had the many and an endless looking supply of herbs and other medicinal things. And in the other side, you had the tools. Canisters filled in with strange liquids that boiled, glass containers, a oak table sturdy enough to bring and attend anyone in need of a surgery, and of course, many books related Arachne's medical story.

"This..."

"Is yours."

His words and gentle smile had your eyes glossy while a shivering laugh escaped your lips.

"Mine? All Mine?"

"All yours."

He nodded while enveloping your hands with his.

"This is-... Oh by the heavens. My lord. This is... too much for me, I-"

"Princesa."

Your eyes settled on his warm expression.

"I know you will make a good use of it."

"Your highness"

You mumbled while squeezing his hands a bit tighter.

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"A 'thank you, my king' would suffice"

A little laugh and his heart skipped a beat.

"You are part now of the medical staff. Their leader, you'll be a great mentor to them."

"Will you visit me, my lord?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Of course. Seeing you is always good. Though I must ask. Do... you fear me? Or feel something strongly negative towards me?"

"I'm afraid the question confuses me, Princesa."

"Let me rephrase that question. Do you feel averted towards me or repulsed?"

All the opposite.

"It is not personal if I don't approach, Princesa. I've been busy. I'm always busy-"

"I... I know that, ser. But, you're always seeming to avoid me until something that requires me appears."

Miguel's brow twitched at the lack of reply, instead you spoke again.

"Political or not... I wouldn't like to marry an acquaintance, much less a stranger."

A soft blush crept on your cheek and you inhaled deeply before mumbling.

"That's why... I... I'd like to know my future husband better. If its not too much to ask."

Going from acquaintances to be called future husband surely made his brain a puddle and his heart to accelerate in a way that for once didn't concerned him.

"Would you... join me tomorrow at a lunch in the meadows?"

You gulped, and casted your eyes down, a bit too embarrassed to meet his bewildered stare.

"Its alright if you can't go, we can know eachother-"

"I'll be there."

Words came so soft and like butter from his mouth that you stared at him with round eyes in surprise.

"We have a lot to discuss anyway. I think it's time for us to properly address our wedding, your highness."

"As you wish, my lord."

The sweet smile on your face made him want to forever have it tattooed in his mind.

The way he looked at you didn't sit right in the spying and vindictive blue eyes that followed you almost everywhere.

Her heart broke upon seeing the kind of look Miguel threw your way. All different from hers, full of annoyance and cold hearted, nearly in despise. But you, had managed to fulfil one of her dreams with such easiness it made his own heart to crash and burn in anger.

This wasn't over. It would be when Dana said it was. With a new target in mind, the main mistress disappeared in the shadows. Unable to widstand the momentarily defeat. She came first, she had the right to that crown, his heirs and him. Dana would have him, either the good or the bad way.

And Miguel always seemed to learn the bad way.

---

Taglist:

@obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @nxrdamp @a--dedicated--fangirl @rin0r1na @queenofroses22 @sofi786 @murnsondock @okayiamkassandra @kimmis-stuff @ceoofmiguel @meeom @handsomeprettytoes @ladymoztaza @chiikasevennn @mxtokko @gabrielarose29 @oooof-ifellforyou @minalovesyoubabes @kikisstrawberrie @know-that-its-delicate @aikoiya @st0r-fruit @ittybxttykxttytxtty @local-mr-frog @liidiaaag @berlinswifey @eepybunny0805 @vonev @cheerrioeoz @solesurvivorjen @zaunsin @ange-grayson @peachsteven @kdrosebme @geraskier-thots @rjasmin2021 @yehet-moi-ohorat @death-moth-art @smookycloyd @somehopeatlast @jadinwitch @bunnibitez

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #king miguel #miguel o'hara x y/n #princess reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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peachdues · 7 months

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Heartbalm

Rengoku x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

A snippet from the promised Kyojuro smut that’s going to be like a franken-request fulfillment from multiple people.

Hope this gets y’all ✨excited✨ for some angsty/horny/protective Kyo!

“Get your fucking hands off of her.”

Wide-eyed, you looked to see Kyojuro’s considerable fist wrapped tightly around your ex’s forearm, its considerable size making the limb beneath look like a mere twig. Kyojuro’s eyes, normally so inviting and open, had gone hard and black, his jaw stiff with his ire.

Though the cold rage contorting your best friend’s face was not directed at you, its sudden manifestation from your otherwise sunny, warm, and gentle best friend made you recoil.

“Kyo,” you started, voice low in warning as your eyes darted between lethal anger simmering on his face and the infuriatingly smug look on your ex’s, as he smirked at the burly blonde.

“I don’t think this concerns you, Rengoku,” your former boyfriend simpered, a challenge lighting his eyes, as he jerked his chin towards you. “This is between me and her, pure and simple.”

Desperately, you glanced around the room hoping to find any of your other friends who could step in, who could intervene before things turned ugly. Mercifully, you locked eyes with Tengen, who was on the other side of the pool, grabbing another another drink. Eyes wide, you looked back and forth between Kyojuro and him, hoping that he understood your silent plea.

A curt nod from your friend communicated he had, and Tengen quickly began pushing through the throng of people who had started to coalesce around the edge of the pool as they watched the pair of men engaged in a stare-off beside you.

Kyojuro raised his head slightly, looking down upon the man you used to claim to love in disgust. “And yet she told you to leave her alone. Are we having listening problems?”

A sardonic smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

Your ex’s eyes cut back to you, a sneer curling his lip. “Figures,” he spat, his tone full of acid. “Not even a month broken up and you’ve already spread your legs for him like a fuckin’ whore.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the surrounding spectators and Kyojuro stepped closer to your seething ex, their noses nearly touching as he held his stare.

“Say it again,” Kyojuro said quietly, all traces of that mocking smirk long-gone, replaced only by a malicious glint in his eyes that promised violence so swift, it had your hand jumping to grip his arm in warning. “Go on.”

Your weak tugs at Kyojuro’s bicep did little to divert his attention. For one, terrifying moment, you feared that blows were imminent, until a painted hand shoved between the two men, pushing Kyojuro back by his chest.

Tengen.

“As much as I hate to break up the fun, I’m sure you don’t want the entire school witnessing you getting your face pounded in,” The silver-haired senior said coolly.

Kyojuro allowed himself to be pushed back by his friend, though he refused to break the tense stare he held with the man he’d marked as his opponent. “We can work this out anytime, it doesn’t have to be here,” he taunted with a jeering smirk. “But stay the fuck away from her.”

dw he’s gonna find a nice outlet for all that aggression (it’s you)

#demon slayer #kyojuro rengoku #kimetsu no yaiba #rengoku kyojuro #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #kny smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer au #rengoku kyojurou #rengoku x y/n #kyojuro x reader

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 9 days

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Hi! I just stumbled upon your profile when I was searching for jonathan crane x reader fics, and can I just say that I loved Behind The Mask so so much! Would it be possible to request a fic Jonathan x reader that is inspired by You are the right one by Sports? If so, thank you so much! 💕✨

You Are The Right One - Jonathan Crane x Reader ONESHOT

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 8016

Warnings: High School!Jonathan Crane, bullying

Summary: !!Request!! High school was a cesspool of misery for Jonathan. After the cruel prank from his crush and biggest bully, he believed his days would be forever marred by the shadows of ridicule and isolation. Until a beacon of light emerged in the form of one girl who reached out with a helping hand.

A/N: (This gif does not match the vibe whatsoever, but oh well!) Bro, I had never heard this song before, but the second I listened to it AHAHHAH!!! the way this song tingles my brain~ chefs kiss. Thank you so much Anon for introducing this song to me 💚 While writing this fic, I really got into the comic book Jonathan, so the whole time writing this, instead of picturing Cillian Murphy, my brain went off and thought about the lanky ginger Jonathan from the comics...smash. This doesn't really affect how you read it or anything, I don't bring up his appearance (I think) but yeah, fun fact! Thank you so much for the request, Anon, I hope you like it and I hope everyone else likes it as well 💚

"Hey! Scarecrow!" The jeering shout pierced the air before a rotten pumpkin collided with Jonathan's head.

With a jolt, he crashed onto the unforgiving concrete, the impact scraping his knees raw and sending his glasses tumbling from his face. Laughter and mocking taunts echoed from the other side of the street, adding insult to injury. Wiping the slimy remnants of pumpkin from his face, Jonathan retrieved his glasses from the ground and carefully replaced them, picking himself off the floor and rushing to his house.

Jonathan hated his time at school, not due to its academic challenges, they were a mere breeze to him. It was the individuals within the school walls who soured his experience. Each day seemed to bring a fresh onslaught of taunts, shoves, and the relentless pursuit to make him feel small. It was an existence he loathed.

Bo Gribbs stood out as the ringleader of torment, his cruelty unmatched by any other. Jonathan couldn't fathom what he had done to deserve such relentless bullying from Bo, but he found himself powerless to retaliate. Physically overpowered and painfully aware of his own frailty, Jonathan's slender frame seemed almost translucent beneath his clothing, a stark testament to his vulnerability in the face of Bo's tyranny.

Yet, even within the supposed sanctuary of his supposed home, peace was still not found for him. If he managed to escape the torment of school, he found himself ensnared in the clutches of his eccentric great-grandmother, whose own torture made every moment a living hell. The irony of her religious fervor contrasted against her treatment of him was not lost on Jonathan.

Though Jonathan's existence felt like a descent into inferno, he clung to the belief that it was merely a chapter in his life, not the entire story. Determined to carve out a brighter future for himself. He vowed to end the torment, one way or another.

Walking through the corridors proved to be a difficult journey for Jonathan, each step fraught with the anticipation of another cruel encounter. As he traversed the halls, barely two minutes had passed before a forceful shove sent him careening forward, his body meeting the cold embrace of the linoleum floor. His knees, accustomed to such harsh treatment, absorbed the impact with resigned familiarity.

The clatter of his glasses hitting the ground echoed amidst the cacophony of jeers from passing jocks, their laughter cutting through the air like a serrated blade. With a heavy sigh, Jonathan reached out, his fingers fumbling as they sought the familiar frames now lying abandoned on the floor.

To add insult to injury, the contents of his binder lay strewn across the corridor in a chaotic array of papers and notebooks. With a resigned sense of foreboding, Jonathan began the arduous task of gathering his scattered belongings, readying himself for the inevitable shit day that lay ahead.

Amidst the din of the bustling hallway, the sound of approaching footsteps caught Jonathan's attention, his heart sinking as he braced for yet another harsh confrontation. However, what he beheld was not the expected boot poised for a strike, but rather a figure, a girl, crouched beside him, her hands reaching out to aid in gathering the scattered papers.

Stunned into silence, Jonathan could only watch in disbelief as the girl worked alongside him, her actions a stark contrast to the hostility he had come to expect. Caught in a moment of bewildered confusion, he found himself unable to move, his mind reeling with questions. What was she doing? Was she helping him?

As Jonathan's mind struggled to catch up with the whirlwind of events, he watched in astonishment as the girl collected the scattered papers, her movements somehow appearing graceful. With each piece she retrieved, she seemed to breathe life into the crap that had enveloped his world just moments before. As she stacked the papers before him, Jonathan couldn't help but marvel at the dexterity of her fingers, a stark contrast to the clumsy awkwardness he felt coursing through his own limbs.

When she finally glanced up, her face illuminated by the fluorescent lights of the corridor, Jonathan found himself momentarily transfixed by the sight before him. The delicate curve of her jawline, the softness of her features, and the warmth in her eyes sent a flutter through his chest, igniting a blush that crept up his cheeks. It had been an eternity since he had been in such close proximity to a girl, let alone one this attrative.

Despite the pounding of his heart and the flush of embarrassment that suffused his face, Jonathan couldn't help but brace himself for the anticipated rejection and humiliation. Yet, to his astonishment, the girl's expression remained neutral, devoid of the revulsion he had come to expect from others.

In that fleeting moment, as their eyes met, Jonathan felt a spark of hope ignite within him, a glimmer of possibility amidst the darkness of his reality.

"I'm not sure they're in order, sorry," she offered apologetically, handing the papers over to him.

Jonathan's mind raced, struggling to process the flood of emotions and sensations crashing over him like waves against a rocky shore. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words emerged, his voice lost amidst the thoughts within him. His cheeks burned with a fierce blush, the heat spreading across his skin like wildfire as he fought to steady his erratic breaths.

Despite the turmoil raging within him, Jonathan found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the girl before him. Every delicate movement, every subtle shift in her demeanor, captivated his attention like a mesmerizing dance. He watched as she nervously nibbled on her lower lip, her brows furrowed in a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

A pang of self-reproach stabbed at Jonathan's heart as he cursed his own awkwardness, berating himself for his inability to ease the tension that hung thick in the air. He longed to reach out, to offer some semblance of reassurance, but the weight of his own insecurities held him captive, shackling him in silence.

In the midst of his internal turmoil, Jonathan couldn't help but wonder if he was the cause of the girl's discomfort. Was it his presence alone that had driven her to such nervous agitation? The thought only served to deepen his sense of self-condemnation, a bitter reminder of his own inadequacy in the face of this unexpected encounter.

Taking the papers from her outstretched hand, Jonathan murmured a barely audible "thank you," his eyes remaining fixed on the ground.

"It's okay," she reassured softly, straightening up.

As Jonathan remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixated on the ground, he felt a sense of regret wash over him as he watched the girl gracefully rise to her feet. Every movement seemed to unfold in slow motion, each subtle shift of her body conveying a depth of emotion that left Jonathan feeling utterly captivated.

The soft rustle of fabric as she straightened her posture, the delicate sway of her hair as she lifted her head, every detail etched itself into Jonathan's memory like a scene from a cherished dream. He longed to reach out, to capture this fleeting moment before it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, but the weight of his own insecurities held him firmly in place.

As she turned to leave, the sound of her footsteps echoed through the empty corridor, each step a somber reminder of the distance that now lay between them. Jonathan listened intently, the rhythmic sound of her footfalls fading into the silence like a whispered promise lost to the wind.

Only when she was finally out of sight did Jonathan dare to lift his gaze, his eyes scanning the empty space where she had stood mere moments before. The memory of her presence lingered like an echo in his mind, a bittersweet reminder of the connection he had felt, however fleeting it may have been.

As the final bell reverberated through the hallways, signaling the end of lunch and the impending arrival of the last period, Jonathan's thoughts were consumed by the memory of the girl he had crossed paths with that very morning. Her image lingered in his mind like a vivid dream, each detail etched into his consciousness with a clarity that was exhilarating and mildly disturbing.

The mere thought of her sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could almost feel the weight of her gaze, piercing through the veil of his thoughts, igniting a fire within him that he struggled to contain.

This crush felt different, unlike any he had experienced before. It wasn't merely a passing fancy or a fleeting attraction. It was a connection that transcended the boundaries of mere physical appearance. There was an ineffable quality about her, a magnetic allure that beckoned him closer with each passing moment.

As he gazed out into the tranquil expanse before him, Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling that destiny had intervened, weaving their paths together. And in that moment, amidst the quiet solitude of the afternoon, he allowed himself to entertain the tantalizing possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, this encounter was the beginning of something truly extraordinary.

It may have seemed naive, even foolish, to harbor such aspirations, but for Jonathan, it was a rare moment of respite in an otherwise shitty landscape. To entertain the notion that perhaps, just perhaps, the universe held something extraordinary in store for him was a welcome change.

Jonathan’s previous crushes seemed like nothing compared to the emotions that stirred by his encounter with the mysterious girl that morning. Recollections of past crushes, like shards of fragmented glass, pricked at his consciousness, reminding him of the superficiality that had defined those fleeting attractions.

Sherry, with her beauty and captivating presence, had been the subject of Jonathan's affections not so long ago. Yet, his admiration for her had always been tempered by the harsh reality of her social circle. Despite the allure of her charm, Jonathan found himself relegated to the sidelines, but he knew he could never have anyone like her anyway.

But it wasn't just Sherry's group that posed a barrier to Jonathan's desires, it was her association with Bo Gribbs, the boy that tormented him every day. Bo's looming presence, like a dark cloud on the horizon, served as a constant reminder of the toxicity that permeated Sherry's world. And yet, despite the danger that lurked beneath the surface, Jonathan remained steadfast in his pursuit, blind to the warning signs that whispered caution in the wind.

It wasn't until Sherry played a cruel prank on him, a twisted joke that left him humiliated and vulnerable, that Jonathan's rose-tinted glasses were shattered, revealing the harsh truth that had eluded him for so long. The sting of betrayal, like a venomous serpent coiled within his heart, forced him to confront the reality of his situation, a reality where he made judgement off appearance alone.

As he reflected on the events of that fateful night, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the time wasted chasing after hollow dreams. But amidst the ashes of his past disappointments, a flicker of hope ignited within him, a hope born from the promise of a new beginning, forged in the fires of his encounter with the mysterious girl who had captured his heart with a single glance and kind gesture.

This girl, she was unlike anyone Jonathan had ever encountered before. Every detail of her presence seemed to exude an air of kindess, something that he didn’t experience often.

It wasn't just her appearance that set her apart, it was the way she carried herself, with a confidence that bordered on defiance, as if daring the world to unravel the enigma of her being. There was an undeniable magnetism about her, an intangible quality that drew Jonathan in like a moth to a flame.

And for the first time in his life, Jonathan dared to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for something more than mere admiration from afar. He allowed himself to entertain the possibility of forging a connection with this stranger.

As Jonathan settled into his usual seat at the front of the classroom, he arranged his books on the desk before him. The desks were arranged in pairs, accommodating two students each, yet Jonathan found himself occupying his table alone, a solitude he had grown accustomed to and even appreciated.

The rest of the class filtered in, taking their usual places. But just as the bell signaled the start of class, the door creaked open to reveal a newcomer, a sight that caused Jonathan's heart to skip a beat. Like a vision materializing, she stepped into the room, the girl who had occupied Jonathan's thoughts since the start of the day.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Jonathan's eyes traced her every movement, drinking in the graceful sway of her stride, the subtle tilt of her head as she looked around at the desks before her. It was as if the very essence of her presence infused the room with a palpable energy, setting Jonathan's heart ablaze with a flurry of emotions he struggled to contain.

What was she doing here, in his classroom, when she wasn't supposed to be? The question echoed through Jonathan's mind like a mantra, a puzzle he couldn't quite unravel.

As she cast her gaze about the room, seeking out an empty seat, Jonathan's breath caught in his throat, a knot of anticipation tightening in his chest. And then, as if guided by some unseen force, her eyes landed on the spot beside him before drifting up to his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips like a secret shared between them.

The rush of heat that flooded Jonathan's cheeks was as sudden and unexpected as a summer storm, his pulse quickening with a fervor that threatened to overwhelm him. It was a moment suspended in time, a collision of worlds that left Jonathan reeling in disbelief.

He sat there, his heart hammering against his ribcage like a drum echoing in the hollows of his chest. Every nerve in his body seemed to hum with electricity as he watched her draw nearer, her presence casting a spell upon him that left him breathless with anticipation. It was as if time itself had slowed to a crawl, each passing second stretching into eternity.

"May I sit here?" Her voice, like a melody woven from silk and honey, broke through the haze of Jonathan's thoughts, drawing his attention to the question hanging in the air.

Jonathan swallowed hard, the sudden dryness of his throat betraying the ruckus of emotions raging within him. With a shaky nod, he managed to tear his gaze away from her mesmerizing presence, meeting her eyes with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, her voice like a gentle breeze on a summer's eve as she settled into the seat beside him, her movements fluid and graceful.

"I just moved classes," she continued, her tone casual yet tinged with a hint of frustration, "I had a clash with English and Statistics, which messed up my whole timetable."

As she explained the reason for her unexpected presence in his class, Jonathan found himself captivated by the sound of her voice, each word a symphony of warmth and sincerity that washed over him like a soothing balm.

Jonathan drank in her words like a man parched in the desert, his thirst for her presence growing with each passing moment. He wanted nothing more than to listen to her voice for eternity, to lose himself in the melody of her speech.

"I'm Y/n, by the way," she said, turning to look at him with a smile that seemed to illuminate the entire room with its radiance.

"I'm Jo-" Jonathan's words were abruptly cut off by the sharp impact of a book colliding with the back of his head, jolting him out of his trance with a start.

Laughter erupted throughout the classroom, echoing off the walls as Jonathan winced in pain, his hand instinctively flying to the back of his head, fingers curling around the tender spot where the book had struck.

"Holy fuck! Are you okay?" Y/n's voice cut through the chaos, her hand landing gently on his shoulder in a gesture of concern.

Jonathan's breath caught in his throat at the touch, a jolt of electricity coursing through him at the warmth of her hand against his skin. If he weren't in such agonizing pain, he might have choked on his own saliva at the unexpected intimacy of the moment. "I'm fine," he managed to whisper, his voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

As Y/n leaned in to check on him, neither of them noticed the approach of the culprit responsible for Jonathan's suffering. It wasn't until he spoke that their attention was drawn to him, his smug tone slicing through the air like a knife.

"Sorry, Scarecrow, my hand slipped," Bo said, his voice dripping with malice.

With a heavy thud, Bo's hand landed on Jonathan's back, causing him to flinch and cough in response. Leaning in closer, Bo loomed over Jonathan, his presence like a dark cloud casting a shadow over the room.

"Do you mind?" Y/n's voice cut through the tension like a sharp blade, her gaze locked on Bo with a fierceness that made him falter for a moment.

"Mind what, Y/n? I’m fine, how ‘bout yourself?" Bo retorted, his smirk never faltering, even under the weight of her glare.

"Go be a dick somewhere else," Y/n shot back.

Jonathan's heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and admiration as he watched Y/n stand up to Bo, her unwavering determination a stark contrast to the fear and apprehension that had gripped him only moments before.

For a moment, Bo seemed taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness, his usual swagger faltering in the face of her unwavering gaze. But then, with a mocking snort, he straightened up, his smirk morphing into a sneer as he turned his attention back to Jonathan.

"Looks like Scarecrow's got himself a little protector," Bo jeered, his words dripping with contempt.

Ignoring Bo's taunts, Y/n turned back to Jonathan, her expression softening with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her voice gentle and reassuring.

Jonathan couldn't help but nod, a surge of gratitude flooding through him at the genuine concern in her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied.

As the tension in the room began to settle, the teacher cleared their throat, drawing attention to the front of the classroom. With one last glance at Y/n, Jonathan turned his focus to the lesson.

Jonathan felt a gentle tap on his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to find Y/n looking at him with a kind expression.

"Sorry, I never actually caught your name before Bo started being a dick," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of apology.

"Jonathan," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, before turning her attention back to the front of the classroom.

As Jonathan watched her, a warmth spread through his chest, chasing away the lingering discomfort from Bo's earlier antics. In that brief exchange, he felt a connection form.

As Jonathan sat beside Y/n in class, his mind couldn't help but drift back to her. Her presence beside him seemed to fill the air with a quiet warmth, casting a soft glow over the otherwise mundane surroundings of the classroom.

He stole furtive glances in her direction, marveling at the way the sunlight danced in her hair, illuminating strands of gold like a halo. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the way her eyes flickered with concentration as she followed along with the lesson, every detail of her being seemed to captivate him in ways he couldn't quite comprehend.

He longed to hear her speak again, to lose himself in the melody of her words and the warmth of her smile. But more than anything, it was the way she made him feel, the sense of comfort and ease that washed over him in her presence. For the first time in a long while, Jonathan felt a glimmer of hope stirring within him, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there was something special blossoming between them.

As the final minutes of class ticked by, Jonathan's attention remained divided between the lesson and the gentle presence of Y/n beside him. He found himself stealing glances at her whenever he could, savoring the fleeting moments of shared proximity.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the period, Jonathan felt a pang of reluctance as he realized their time together was drawing to a close. He began gathering his belongings, his mind already drifting ahead to the remainder of the day.

But before he could make his exit, Y/n turned to him with a smile, her eyes sparkling with warmth and kindness. "Hey, Jonathan," she said softly, "do you mind if I walk with you?"

Jonathan's heart skipped a beat at her words, a rush of warmth flooding through him at the prospect of spending more time with her. "I don’t mind," he replied, almost too quickly.

Together, they made their way out of the classroom, the bustling halls alive with the energy of students eager to begin their weekend. As they walked side by side, Jonathan felt a sense of contentment wash over him, grateful for the unexpected situation that had brought them together.

As they stepped out of the building, Y/n cast a fleeting glance behind them before returning her focus to the path ahead. "I just really didn't want Bo to bother you any more than he already has. If you don't want me to walk with you, I totally get that," she said, her voice tinged with concern.

"It's fine... I don't mind," Jonathan replied, his words tinged with a mix of gratitude and disbelief.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/n's lips as she looked at him. "Then I'll walk with you," she said, her eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity.

As Jonathan processed Y/n's offer, a swirl of conflicting emotions churned within him.

On one hand, he was overwhelmed by a sense of disbelief and wonder that someone as kind and compassionate as Y/n would willingly extend such a gesture of friendship to him. It was a glimmer of light in the darkness of his daily struggles, a ray of hope that pierced through the clouds of uncertainty that hung heavy over his life.

But as he considered the practicalities of the situation, a nagging sense of apprehension gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that allowing Y/n to accompany him all the way to his house would only invite trouble. Grandma Keeny was not one to tolerate such liberties, and Jonathan knew all too well the consequences of crossing her.

With a heavy heart, Jonathan weighed his options. On one hand, he longed for the companionship and warmth that Y/n's presence offered. But on the other, he couldn't bear the thought of subjecting her to the wrath of Grandma Keeny.

In the end, Jonathan found himself at a crossroads, both metaphorically and literally, as they reached an intersection. With a heavy heart, he turned to Y/n, his expression a mixture of gratitude and reluctance.

"I'm going this way," he murmured, the words stumbling awkwardly from his lips.

Y/n's smile faltered slightly at his words, a flicker of confusion dancing in her eyes. "You don't want me to keep walking with you?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Jonathan hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to confide in Y/n and the fear of burdening her with his troubles. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head gently.

"It's not that," he began, his voice soft but resolute. "I just don't want to inconvenience you. It's a bit out of the way, and I wouldn't want to make you late home or anything."

Y/n regarded him with a thoughtful expression, her gaze searching his face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. After a moment, she nodded understandingly, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Alright then," she said, her tone warm and reassuring. "Just know that the offer still stands if you ever need someone to walk with."

Jonathan felt a surge of gratitude wash over him at her words, a sense of warmth and belonging settling in the pit of his stomach. Though he couldn't bring himself to explain the full extent of his situation, he was grateful for Y/n's understanding and compassion.

With a final nod of thanks, Jonathan watched as Y/n continued on her way, her presence a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone in his struggles.

As Jonathan made his way along the footpath, the memory of Y/n lingered like a gentle breeze, offering a brief respite from the turmoil of his thoughts.

But as he neared his house, the weight of reality came crashing down upon him like a leaden blanket. The giddiness he felt began to wane, replaced by a sense of foreboding dread.

He couldn't bring himself to call it a home, not with the constant cloud of tension that hung heavy in the air. Grandma Keeny's presence loomed over the house like a specter, her disapproving gaze a constant reminder of the hell Jonathan endured within its walls.

With each step closer to the front door, Jonathan's stomach churned with a mixture of anxiety and apprehension. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, there would always be something for Grandma Keeny to find fault with.

But as he steeled himself to face whatever awaited him inside, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind, a reminder of the brief moment of solace he had found in Y/n's company. And for that fleeting moment, Jonathan allowed himself to cling to the hope that one day, he would find a place where he truly belonged.

As Jonathan entered the house, the air seemed to thicken with tension, each creak of the floorboards echoing through the house. He braced himself for the inevitable confrontation, steeling his nerves against the onslaught of Grandma Keeny's disapproving scrutiny.

Sure enough, as soon as he crossed the threshold, he was met with the sharp pang of her voice slicing through the silence like a knife. "You're late again, Jonathan," she scolded, her tone laced with thinly veiled disdain.

He hardly needed to glance at the clock to know she made that up. Jonathan bit back a retort, knowing from experience that it would only incite further wrath. Instead, he offered a mumbled apology, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground as he braced himself for the barrage of criticism that was sure to follow.

But to his surprise, Grandma Kenny's response was not as scathing as he had anticipated. "Don't let this happen again," she said curtly, her voice carrying a tone of warning.

Though her words lacked the usual venomous edge, Jonathan still felt the weight of her disapproval bearing down on him like a heavy burden. He nodded silently, knowing better than to provoke further confrontation.

As he retreated to his room. While he was grateful to have escaped unscathed this time, he couldn't shake the feeling that Grandma Keeny's temporary leniency was merely the calm before the storm.

As he settled into bed, the memory of Y/n's kind smile lingered in his mind like a flickering flame in the darkness. It was a reminder that even amidst the chaos and uncertainty, there were moments of warmth and kindness to be found.

But that moment of rest was short-lived. The tranquility shattered as Grandma Kenny's sharp voice pierced through the silence, demanding that he come downstairs to make her a coffee. Jonathan's shoulders sagged as he rolled his eyes, begrudgingly pushing himself off the bed.

Jonathan stood by his locker, the light of the hallway casting shadows across the floor. The low hum of students milling about filled the air, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter or snippets of conversation. He slowly grabbed each book from his locker, the scent of aged paper and faint traces of graphite wafting up as he sifted through the contents.

With each item he retrieved, Jonathan's mind wandered, lost in the potential chance of Y/n walking past. He imagined the rhythmic tap of her footsteps echoing down the corridor, the soft rustle of her clothing as she approached. His heart quickened at the thought of her warm smile, the playful glint in her eyes that never failed to captivate him.

In his mind, Jonathan pictured Y/n strolling alongside him to class, their conversation flowing effortlessly as if they had known each other for years. He envisioned himself maintaining composure, staying cool, without the usual nervousness that plagued him in social interactions. Imagining her radiant smile directed up at him, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder, hoping to see her.

Sure, he had only met her the day before and their only interactions were brief. Yet, in those fleeting moments, Jonathan felt a something with Y/n that bet any connection he had ever thought he shared with Sherry. The memory of his last crush on Sherry now seemed trivial and shallow in comparison to the depth of feeling he harbored for Y/n, he cringed just thinking about it.

Lost in his imagination, Jonathan nearly missed Y/n's presence walking through the hallway. She was a vision, just as captivating as the day prior. His heart quickened with anticipation, hoping for a fleeting glance from her. Yet, she passed by without so much as a glance in his direction.

Feeling a pang of disappointment, Jonathan turned back to his locker, cursing himself for entertaining such fantasies. He berated his own foolishness, knowing deep down that she wouldn't notice him. As he watched her move toward her own locker, he couldn't shake the sense of longing that lingered in his heart.

Jonathan couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched a guy approach Y/n at her locker. He felt a surge of jealousy rise within him, coupled with a gnawing sense of unease. His mind raced with scenarios, imagining the worst possible outcomes. What if this guy was her boyfriend? What if she preferred his company over Jonathan's?

He had completely forgetthen the about the possibility that she might already be in a relationship. A knot formed in his stomach as he watched them engage in conversation. He strained to hear snippets of their exchange, trying to decipher their relationship. His grip tightened on the books in his hands, his knuckles turning white with tension.

Jonathan's thoughts swirled with insecurity and doubt. He couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that washed over him. As he watched the interaction unfold, a sense of resignation settled over him. Perhaps it was best to keep his distance, to spare himself the inevitable disappointment of rejection.

As Jonathan closed his locker, he couldn't help but overhear the exchange between Y/n and the guy who had approached her. He lingered nearby, discreetly eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you every time, I don’t want to go out with you,” Y/n's voice carried a firmness, her words laced with frustration.

The guy persisted, undeterred. “And I shouldn’t have to tell you that I’m not a bad guy. What have you got to lose?” he argued.

Y/n didn't mince her words. “I’ve watched you and your friends bully people, yet you’re gonna stand there and tell me you’re not a bad guy?” Her tone was sharp, cutting through the air with conviction.

With a dismissive roll of his eyes, the guy retorted, “It’s just a bit of fun.”

Y/n's response was final. “Goodbye, now,” she stated firmly, closing her locker and walking away, leaving the guy behind.

Jonathan felt a wave of relief wash over him as he listened to the conversation unfold. Not only did it confirm that Y/n was single, but it also revealed her refusal to entertain someone disrespectful like that guy. Yet, alongside the relief, a simmering anger brewed within him. The audacity of that guy to treat her with such disrespect ignited a fire within Jonathan. Upon getting a closer look, he recognized the guy as one of the same guys who had tormented him before, one that hangs with Bo. Aaron was a real piece of shit.

Jonathan's gaze must have lingered for too long, for the Aaron turned to face him, his expression twisted with anger. "What are you looking at, Scarecrow?" he spat out aggressively.

Jonathan felt a surge of panic coursing through him, his muscles tensing in preparation for confrontation. However, before he could respond, the bell rang, cutting through the tension like a sharp blade. With a sense of relief, Jonathan hastily made his exit, heading off to his own class, leaving the guy behind in the hallway.

Jonathan managed to navigate his classes without encountering Aaron again, a small relief in an otherwise nerve racking day. As lunchtime arrived, he found himself in the crowded cafeteria.

For Jonathan, lunch was a simple affair. His pockets rarely held enough spare change to afford a cafeteria meal, and even if they did, the thought of eating the food they served was revolting in and of itself. Instead, he relied on the sandwich he'd prepared at home earlier that morning. A humble meal, but one that brought him comfort.

In the corner of the cafeteria, Jonathan sat in solitary silence, a lone figure amidst rest. With a library book propped open before him, he stole moments between bites of his homemade sandwich to immerse himself in its pages. The book was a refuge, a small rebellion against the suffocating grip of Grandma Kenny's stringent beliefs.

Jonathan didn’t want to imagine the consequences if Grandma Kenny were to discover his forbidden literary indulgence. Her wrath was legendary, her punishments cruel and unpredictable. From stupid chores to brutal beatings. Jonathan shuddered at the memory of being locked in the decrepit church, surrounded by the menacing caws of circling crows. An ordeal he'd endured more than once for daring to defy her rules.

He barely noticed that person approaching his table. Jonathan's heart jumped in his chest as he watched Aaron's hand descend upon the table with a thud, the sudden noise echoing in the cafeteria. His grip tightened on the book, his knuckles turning white, as he braced himself for whatever confrontation was about to unfold.

Aaron's smirk widened as he snatched the book from Jonathan's hands, flipping through its pages with a mocking chuckle. "What cha reading, Scarecrow?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

Jonathan remained rooted to his seat, his silence a stark contrast to Aaron's brash demeanor. Yet, beneath the surface, a torrent of emotions churned within him. Fear, anger, and a deep-seated sense of vulnerability.

With a swift motion, Aaron swatted Jonathan's sandwich off the table, the force causing crumbs to scatter across the surface. Jonathan flinched at the sudden movement, his fingers twitching as if instinctively reaching out to reclaim his meal.

But he held himself back, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Aaron. He knew better than to provoke further confrontation, especially in such a public setting. So, with a clenched jaw and a steely resolve, Jonathan remained silent, his eyes betraying none of the turmoil raging within.

Aaron's smirk widened at Jonathan's restraint, clearly relishing the power he held in this moment of dominance. With a swift motion, he tossed the book aside, its pages fluttering in protest before settling on the tabletop.

"What's the matter, Scarecrow? Cat got your tongue?" Aaron taunted, leaning in closer, his breath hot against Jonathan's ear.

Jonathan's jaw tightened further, his fingers curling into fists beneath the table. He refused to give Aaron the satisfaction of a response, knowing that any retort would only fuel the bully's ego. Instead, he focused on maintaining his composure, willing himself to remain calm in the face of adversity.

As Aaron continued to mock and jeer, Jonathan's mind raced, searching for an escape from this uncomfortable confrontation. He knew he couldn't let Aaron intimidate him, not again. With a deep breath, Jonathan forced himself to ignore the taunts, his eyes flickering momentarily to the scattered crumbs on the table.

Just as Aaron seemed poised to escalate the situation further, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Hey, Aaron, leave him alone."

Y/n stood at the edge of the table, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. Her presence seemed to catch Aaron off guard, his smirk faltering for just a moment before he composed himself.

"Mind your own business, Y/n," Aaron retorted, his tone dripping with disdain.

"And you wonder why I won’t go out with you," Y/n shot back, her voice unwavering.

Jonathan watched in awe as Y/n stood her ground, her confidence radiating in the face of adversity. He felt a surge of gratitude towards her, knowing that she had once again stepped in to defend him.

Aaron's eyes narrowed as he glared at Y/n, clearly unaccustomed to being challenged. For a moment, the cafeteria seemed to hold its breath, or atleast it did for Jonathan.

But then, with a frustrated huff, Aaron shoved himself away from the table, casting one last menacing glare at Jonathan before stalking off into the crowd.

Y/n exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing as the immediate threat dissipated. She turned to Jonathan with a sympathetic smile, offering him a reassuring nod.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, concern evident in her eyes.

Jonathan nodded, gratitude swelling in his chest. "Thanks to you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n's smile widened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his shoulder. "Anytime," she said. “You wanna come sit with my friends and me?” Y/n offered, her voice carrying a warmth that melted away some of Jonathan's anxiety.

Jonathan felt his heart flutter in his chest. Was she really inviting him to join her? He glanced down, adjusting his glasses to hide the nervousness he felt bubbling inside.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just don’t want Aaron coming back to bother you,” Y/n added, her concern evident in her tone.

“I’d like that,” Jonathan replied, his voice soft but resolute.

Y/n's smile widened. Jonathan began gathering his things, carefully stowing his book in his bag before turning to his sandwich. However, his heart sank as he realized it had been scattered across the table, a casualty of Aaron's aggression.

With a frustrated huff, Jonathan began collecting the remnants of his meal, his movements tinged with embarrassment. Y/n watched him with a sympathetic gaze.

“Do you have anything else to eat?” Y/n asked gently.

Jonathan shook his head, a pang of hunger gnawing at his stomach as he disposed of the ruined sandwich in the nearby bin.

“I have some food you can have if you’d like,” Y/n offered, her voice warm and inviting.

“It’s okay, you should eat your food, don’t worry about me,” Jonathan replied, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“It’s fine, my dad always packs me too much anyways,” Y/n insisted, her smile unwavering.

Y/n reached out a hand towards Jonathan, silently inviting him to join her. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness and gratitude, before accepting her gesture.

As they walked together towards Y/n's table, Jonathan couldn't help but steal glances at her. She walked with an effortless grace, her presence exuding a sense of comfort that eased the tension coiled within him.

Arriving at the table, Y/n pulled out a sandwich from her bag, “You can have this one, I don’t feel like eating two ham sandwiches today.” Without hesitation, she handed it to Jonathan, a small but genuine smile gracing her lips.

Jonathan accepted the sandwich with a grateful nod, his stomach rumbling in anticipation of the unexpected meal. He glanced around the table, noticing Y/n's friends chatting and laughing amongst themselves. They didn't seem to pay him much mind, but Jonathan didn't mind. His focus was solely on Y/n, her presence casting a comforting glow that made him feel at ease.

Settling into his seat, Jonathan began unwrapping the sandwich, the simple act of kindness from Y/n filling him with a sense of warmth that he hadn't felt in a long time. As he took a bite, he couldn't help but steal another glance at Y/n, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over him for her unexpected kindness.

It was perfect that he shared lunch with Y/n, not just because Jonathan cherished her company, but also because they had a class together, offering the perfect excuse to stroll side by side. With each step, Jonathan felt a sense of pride swell within him, as if walking with Y/n wasn’t just out of practicality, but because they were together, almost like a couple.

Y/n's lively chatter filled the air as they walked through the corridors, but Jonathan found himself lost in her presence, captivated by her every word and movement. Arriving at their classroom, they settled into their familiar seats, and Jonathan couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement as Y/n's arm brushed against his own, sending his heart into a flutter.

In that moment, Jonathan felt a sense of certainty wash over him. Y/n was meant for him, of that he was sure. Her smiles, her kindness, her very essence seemed to affirm his belief. No girl had ever shown him such warmth, and he couldn't deny the connection he felt with her.

As he sat beside her, Jonathan knew he had to ask her out. It had taken him over a week to muster the courage to ask out Sherry, but with Y/n, it felt different. She lifted his spirits effortlessly, instilling in him a newfound confidence. Though they had only known each other for a short time, Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling that she was the right one.

Walking out of class together, their steps echoing faintly in the empty hallway, Jonathan and Y/n exchanged casual conversation. Their last periods were both study periods, which gave them the opportunity to leave school early. As they stepped into the open air outside the building, Jonathan's heart drummed against his ribcage. He knew he had to ask her out. There was no turning back now.

Approaching the familiar corner where their paths diverged, the pair came to a halt and turned to face each other. The soft afternoon sunlight cast a warm glow around them, highlighting Y/n's radiant smile.

"Thanks for walking with me. See you tomorrow," Y/n said, her smile warming Jonathan's heart as she prepared to bid him farewell.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Jonathan spoke up, his words hanging in the air between them like delicate wisps of anticipation. "U-uh, Y/n?" he began, his voice betraying a slight tremor of nervousness.

"Yes, Jonathan?" Y/n replied, her eyes fixed on him expectantly, a gentle curiosity gleaming within them.

This was his moment. Jonathan took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. "I-I was wondering… if y-you'd like to go out with me?" he managed to utter, his heart pounding furiously against his chest, his hands trembling ever so slightly with nervous anticipation.

As he observed her reaction, he detected a subtle change in her demeanor. The radiant smile that had graced her lips moments ago seemed to wane, replaced by a hint of saddness that creased her brow ever so slightly. Jonathan's stomach churned with apprehension as he realized he might have misread the situation.

In that moment, he felt like a complete idiot. He berated himself internally for being so stupid, for daring to hope for something more. Jonathan's gaze faltered, his eyes dropping to the ground in a gesture of defeat. He cursed his own foolishness, reprimanding himself for misinterpreting Y/n's kindness as something it wasn't.

"I'm sorry, I never should have asked," Jonathan murmured, his voice tinged with shame.

Y/n's gentle touch on his arm made him glance up, meeting her gaze once more. He was met with a look of sincerity and understanding, her eyes soft with empathy.

"No, it's not that, Jonathan..." Y/n began, her voice tender as she sought to reassure him. "I'm sorry, I do like you, Jonathan, it's just... I'm not really ready to date anyone at the moment," she explained, her words laced with a hint of guilt.

Jonathan felt a mixture of relief and disappointment wash over him. He appreciated Y/n's honesty, but he couldn't shake the sting of rejection. Nevertheless, he managed a small nod, acknowledging her words.

Jonathan's heart sank as he prepared himself for rejection, his mind already forming apologies for his audacity. But then, Y/n spoke, her voice soft yet firm, cutting through the heavy atmosphere like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

"It's okay, Y/n," Jonathan replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of disappointment and acceptance. "I understand. Thank you for being honest with me."

Y/n's expression softened, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you for understanding, Jonathan. You're a good friend."

The weight of her words settled over him, and Jonathan couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth blossom within his chest. Despite the outcome not being what he had hoped for, he found solace in the bond they shared and the prospect of their continued friendship.

With a faint smile, Jonathan mustered the courage to meet Y/n's gaze once more. "I'm glad we can still be friends," he said, his voice soft yet sincere.

Y/n returned his smile, her eyes reflecting warmth and gratitude. "Me too, Jonathan," she replied, reaching out to gently squeeze his arm.

Jonathan's heart swelled as she suddenly pulled him closer, wrapping him in a warm embrace. His breath caught in his throat, momentarily stunned by the unexpected gesture. He hesitated for a moment before tentatively returning the hug, savoring the fleeting moment between them.

As Y/n pulled away, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, wishing he could hold onto the moment just a little longer. He watched in awe as she walked away, her figure disappearing down the street. Despite the bittersweet twinge of unrequited feelings, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for Y/n's grace and kindness.

He knew that she was the one he wanted to be with. Her kindness, understanding, and genuine nature spoke volumes to him, reaffirming his belief that she was worth waiting for.

As he watched her walk away, Jonathan couldn't help but feel a profound sense of connection to her, a feeling he hadn't experienced with anyone else before. He knew that their bond was special, even if it wasn't romantic just yet. And while he longed for more, he was willing to be patient, knowing that good things often took time.

With a wistful smile, Jonathan silently vowed to cherish their friendship and support Y/n in any way he could. He was willing to wait for her, confident that their paths would eventually align in the future. And as he continued on his journey home, he carried with him a sense of hope and anticipation, knowing that she was worth the wait.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to come out, as usual, uni shit 💀 (cause I'm a dumb ass doing a double major) I set this after the Halloween party, so Jonathan probably should have been more aggressive and all that shit, but in the comic, he's all shy and all that stuff with Sherry (before the prank), so I wanted to keep along those lines. I really hope I did this request justice as I loved it so much. Thank you all for reading and I hope you liked it as much as I liked writing it 💚

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 19 days

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🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Blushy!Steve + “Don’t be embarrassed, I think it’s sweet how much you love me.”

Oh I had so much fun coming up with an idea for this! Thank you!

Quick off the mark - CollegeAU!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: After a win, you and Steve go celebrate but not everything goes to plan

Word Count: 846

Warnings: Fluff! Smidgin of SMUT! Alcohol consumption! Blushy Steve because he's TOO CUTE!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

You were surprised that you still had a voice with all the screaming you’d done the past couple of hours. It was all worth it though when the final whistle blew and you could run onto the football pitch to celebrate.

You practically lept into Steve’s arms, cheerleading pom poms discarded. He laughed as he caught you, his helmet that he’d been holding dropping to the floor.

“Congratulations!” You cheered as you cupped his cheeks and kissed him deeply “I’m so proud of you! That last play was amazing”

Steve grinned up at you, his cheeks pink with both exertion and embarrassment “Thank you doll” he said softly as he captured your lips once more.

You smiled into the kiss, uncaring of the crowds around you. You only dropped out of his arms when you heard his friends jeering knowing he would be getting embarrassed at all the attention. Like you expected his cheeks and tips of his ears were burning red which you thought was the cutest thing ever.

Steve picked his helmet back up, alongside your pompoms before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into his side, holding onto the hand that was draped over your shoulder as the two of you walked off the pitch together.

It wasn’t long until the team and supporters were in the usual student bar to celebrate the win. Shots were taken, beers drunk and asses swayed as people partied. You and Steve were practically glued to each other, his hand on your hips and chest pressed into your back as you danced.

You began to feel pretty hot and bothered and one look over your shoulder at Steve told you that he was feeling the same. If his blown pupils were anything to go by. You arched your brow in a silent question which Steve quickly understood and responded with a quick nod of his head.

After saying a quick goodbye to your friends you both stepped out into the cool night. The breeze did nothing to cool you down, if anything you knew you couldn’t wait any longer. The off-campus house that Steve shared with a couple of his teammates wasn’t too far away on a normal night, but right now it felt like miles away.

You spun around to face Steve “I need you, now”

Steve’s brows rose slightly but you could see the cogs in his head turning, he felt the same and was trying to think of a solution. He glanced around before a smirk grew on his face.

“My truck?” he suggested.

You bit your lip “I like your thinking Rogers” you grinned, barely finishing your sentence before Steve tugged you towards his car.

As soon as you were in the truck, you moved to staddle Steve’s lap, hand cupping his jaw as you kissed him deeply. He responded by tugging you down onto him, hands gripping your hips before travelling around your body, specifically to your chest.

You instantly moaned and rolled your hips down onto his growing erection that was straining again his jeans. You silently cursed the material that separated you but you were enjoying the friction too much to do anything about it.

Steve’s moans encouraged you to keep going, rolling your hips against him as you continued to make out in his truck. You were so lost in the good feelings that you didn’t notice Steve’s curses and attempts to slow you down until it was too late.

“Shit, shit, wait I- uh- shitttt” he moaned his head tilted back.

You pulled back enough to see the blissed-out expression on his face and instantly realised what had happened. You had made him orgasm by just rolling your hips against him, something that made you smirk at him.

You watched as he screwed his eyes shut, his face turning the deepest shade of red as he peaked an eye open. Embarrassment was clear on his face.

“Shit- sorry I tried - I just” he stuttered as he tried to reason with you.

It was unnecessary though, you weren’t annoyed in the slightest “It’s okay Steve” you said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Steve sighed and dropped his head “It’s not, it’s embarrassing” he muttered.

“Don’t be embarrassed” you said cupping his cheeks, “I think it’s sweet how much you love me” you smirked.

That got a chuckle out of him, the pink tinge slowly fading away from his face “Well in my defence seeing you in your cheerleading uniform and then this dress…” he said, fingers playing with the hem of your mini dress which had ridden almost completely up “only a saint can have that much control”

You gave him a knowing lopsided smirk “And we both know you are no saint” you said “Plus we both know it doesn’t take you long to get going again” you added, rolling your hips once more to prove your point “So why don’t we quickly head back to yours and you can make it up to me”

Steve grinned “deal,” he said before kissing you deeply.

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

Masterlist

I don’t have a taglist so follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary and turn on post notifications to be kept up to date!

#Niamhwrites #steve rogers #College AU #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogerx x y/n

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grimalkinmessor · 8 months

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Aideku with blood (smut) 🙏❤️

Sorry this took so long, smut is hard 🥲How about a vamp AU? :3 Warnings in the tags ✨

Aideku/Smut/Blood

———

Izuku is nervous.

"Don't be such a pussy, Deku," Tsubasa jeers, shoving him forward. The mausoleum looms in front of them, haloed by the setting sun. "It's one night."

"Yeah, you can handle one night in an empty building, can't you?" Neiru laughs. "Or...mostly empty, anyway. Aside from a few corpses."

Izuku swallows. "I-I can do it! I just—"

"Good," Neiru interrupts, stepping up to open the big stone door. It opens with a grating moan, a vast expanse of black yawning beyond it. Neiru gives a mocking bow. "In you go then!"

Nails biting into his palms, Izuku sets his jaw. "...I do this, and you'll give me my picture back?"

Tsubasa throws an arm around Izuku's shoulders, leaning in close and making his skin crawl. "Aw c'mon, Deku, we're friends, right?"

They haven't been friends in years.

"It's just a little game. The picture's just insurance that you won't chicken out. We'll give it back if you make it the whole night without bailing."

Izuku doesn't believe him. But what choice does he have? If he refuses, he doubts they'll hand it over—it's more likely that they'll rip it up right in front of him. Besides, Izuku is less concerned about spending the night in a mausoleum than he is Tsubasa and Neiru letting him out in the morning.

But even if they don't, Izuku is crafty. He'll figure it out.

Tightening his hold on his backpack, Izuku strides forward into the tomb.

"Finally! Thought we'd have to throw you in," Tsubasa complains, and Neiru snickers as he begins to push the door shut.

"Have fun, Deku!"

Before Izuku can even reply, the door thuds shut, and the bar scrapes back into place over it from the outside. Izuku waits a moment before fumbling for his phone, turning on the flashlight to get a good look around. It's not that big of a space really, but it's full of cobwebs and coated in a thick layer of dust. It's clear that these ancestors haven't been visited in a very long time. There's about six plaques on either wall, some of them so old that the kanji has worn down so much he can't make out the names. They're so old that Izuku wouldn't be surprised if there were actual bodies behind those plaques rather than just urns full of ash.

And speaking of bodies—the biggest thing in the room is the long stone slab directly opposite the door. It has no plaque on it, but the seam between the heavy stone lid tells Izuku that it's likely a coffin, which means that he really is locked in here with a corpse.

Izuku gulps. It's fine. It's fine. He can handle this. There's nothing to be afraid of.

Shaking his head, Izuku finds a fairly clean spot in the middle of the room and sits down, shrugging off his backpack to rifle through it. First things first; he pulls out his actual flashlight, shutting his phone off to preserve the battery. He clicks his flashlight on and sets it on the floor like a tiny lamp, before tugging out one of his textbooks. Might as well get some work done while he's stuck here.

He's almost out of high school now, looking into nearby colleges so he can stay close to his mother—which makes it all the more pathetic that he's still getting pushed around by people like Tsubasa and Neiru. Granted, it's not as bad as it used to be, but it's still irritating.

Izuku tries to ignore his surroundings as he works his way through the next chapter, gnawing on his pen and occasionally jotting down notes in the margins. This works for a while; he manages to make his way through two whole chapters without much trouble. He loses track of time a bit, until—

—something skitters across his foot.

Izuku shrieks, throwing himself back on instinct, leg flailing as he tries to stand only to end up toppling harshly against the casket behind him. Yelping, Izuku crashes back to the ground, clutching his shoulder with a wince. It throbs when he touches it, and he hisses quietly. That's going to bruise.

Grabbing blindly for his flashlight, Izuku staggers back to his feet and looks around for whatever just tried to climb his pants leg. He sees a spider the size of his hand sprint into a crack in the wall, and Izuku shudders, making a soft 'blegh' sound.

Swinging the light around slowly, Izuku freezes when he realizes that his flailing has pushed the lid of the stone casket aside. "Sh-shit," Izuku whispers, anxiety spiking. He sets the flashlight down again, face up, the light dispersing throughout the tomb enough to give the place a dim glow. "Shit, shit, shit—"

Hands shaking, Izuku approaches the cracked casket and tentatively peers inside. He expects to see some withered husk of a thing, or maybe nothing but bones and dust given how old this tomb seems—he's very much not expecting what looks like the perfectly preserved corpse of a man who couldn't have died more than a year ago.

Izuku blinks, squinting. The flashlight glow is dim, but from what he can see it's a man with long, dark hair and a riot of stubble. The white and black yukata he's wearing is shockingly pristine, pale hands folded calmly over his stomach. There are no signs of decay at all, not beyond the ashen white of the corpse's skin. Unable to help himself, curiosity ad incredulity flaring, Izuku reaches forward and touches the man's cheek. The flesh is stone cold—not quite icy, but certainly not full of warmth. There's a bit of give there too, the flesh porcelain but still somehow soft.

Brow furrowing, Izuku slides his hand down to press two fingers to the corpse's white neck. He's no sure whether he's surprised or relieved to find no pulse.

Izuku barely has time to register this however, because mere seconds later a hand snaps out and fists in his uniform jacket, yanking him down and in to the coffin. Izuku yelps, panic spiking, as he crashes onto the cool body settled in the slab, mouth opening to scream as the stone lid of the casket slams back into place.

But no sound escapes his mouth, because in the sudden darkness he feels teeth slice into his throat—before pleasure overtakes him.

Izuku gapes at nothing as a solid arm latches around his waist, tight enough to bruise and yet somehow still seeming absentminded. The subtle rasp of stubble rubs against his neck, and Izuku smells the faint scent of blood as lips move and hum quietly against his pulse. The electrifying feeling of heat spiders out from the point of contact, spreading through Izuku's body and pooling in his gut. Izuku's eyes flutter, a weak noise escaping his mouth as his hands flex and paw at the chest of the-the thing beneath him. He's not sure whether he means to push it away, or draw it closer.

Izuku feels his blood spilling slowly down his neck, thick and hot, and the pieces slot together in his bewildered, fuzzy mind.

Vampire.

He is locked in a tomb—a coffin—with a monster of legends. It's feeding off of him, stealing his blood, likely killing him...

But Izuku can barely bring himself to care.

A ragged groan scrapes out of his throat as the vampire sucks out his lifeblood, ecstasy filling him in its place. He feels his cock stiffen, pressing tight against the seam of his pants as Izuku's eyes roll back in delirious elan. Through the haze, his ever analytical mind notes that the man's hands are skating up and down his sides, one fisting loosely in his hair to pin his head at a better angle. The chill of the corpse's skin is slowly being replaced by warmth, siphoning off Izuku's body heat as well as his blood.

Izuku gasps as a leg juts up beneath him, a muscled thigh slipping in between his legs and pressing against his erection. The pressure makes him tremble, little hiccups of sound lilting out of his mouth as he instinctively rocks his hips down in helpless little jerks, each movement giving him another jolt of pleasure.

A tongue swipes over his bloodied neck, the white-hot bliss of those teeth leaving him for a moment as the monster beneath him cleans him up. Izuku whines at the loss, a quiet desperation striking through him.

'No, no, come back, I'm almost...'

He moans shakily as he feels those fangs pierce the other side of his neck, drawing out his blood and sending him high once more.

"A virgin...?" a low voice purrs, sleepy and bemused and...in his head?

The hands on him tighten, and Izuku whimpers as it sends another spike of arousal through him. He has the vague sense of shame, of embarrassment, at the way he's humping the man's leg, rubbing the tent in his old jeans against the silky white fabric of the man's yukata—but it's a faint sensation. His anxiety is drowned out by the sheer amount of ecstasy coursing through him. Izuku feels it building in his stomach, coiling in his gut as his toes curl and his thighs clamp tight around the muscled thigh beneath him.

He's close, he so close, he—

Red glow fills the space, casting the figure beneath him in a crimson haze. His eyes are a brilliant, luminous scarlet, and the light of them makes the blood painting his mouth look black.

"Your lust..." the man rasps, hands skating up and down to fasten around Izuku's hips. His voice is low and wet, and Izuku can smell his own blood on his breath. "I can taste it."

Then the monster yanks Izuku's hips down, forcing him to grind up against the man's stomach. Izuku cries out, sobbing as the force, the crush, the smell sends him toppling over the edge of orgasm. He cums so hard his vision goes white, mouth open in a soundless wail as wave after wave of pleasure crests over him, shocking up his spine and curling in his scalp. He forgets to breathe for several precious moments, knocked breathless by it.

Vaguely, he feels the man's mouth on him again, trailing his tongue against the newest wound. Izuku's eyes flutter, and he collapses fully on top of him, lost in the afterglow. He's not sure whether the dizziness he feels is because of his orgasm or the blood loss, and he's not sure he particularly cares either. His limbs feel like jello.

"Mm, you're type O," that low voice muses, a hand trailing up and down Izuku's spine. "I thought it was merely that I hadn't fed in so long, but it's no wonder. Best way I've woken up in a long time." The hand pauses, and the red glow now saturating the inside of the coffin flickers. "Mind telling me what year it is?"

"It's..." Izuku begins, the question booting his brain back into gear. His thoughts begin to race as he blinks rapidly to clear his head, a myriad of questions and emotions and reactions flashing across his mind in quick succession. "I-It's 2237."

"A little over four hundred years this time," the man murmurs, brow furrowing in contemplation. "Odd. Someone usually wakes me up every turn of the century."

"U-Um, sir," Izuku tries after a moment, wriggling in mortification when he feels the mess he's made in his pants. "Can you, um, let me out now? If y-you're not going to finish me off?"

'Why would you ask that, WHY would you—'

"I would," the monster begins absently, licking a stray trail of Izuku's blood from the corner of his lips. He's looking at the faintest trickle of light that can be seen from the seam of the stone lid. "But it seems like it's still daylight out. The mausoleum must've collapsed..."

Izuku attempts to push himself up, but the idle hand on his back isn't as idle as he thought. Vampire strength, he realizes quickly. Biting his lip, he tries not to think of the bruises already blossoming on his hip. "No, that's just my flashlight! It's actually very late, so it's safe for you to let me out, I promise!"

Scarlet eyes narrow at him, grip tightening, and Izuku squeaks like a dog toy when those fangs scrape against his neck again. "You're not lying to me, are you? Little lust thrall?"

Izuku's face flushes brightly, and the man noses his cheek almost instinctively, as if following the blood flow. "I-I'm not! I'm not lying, I swear! Please, just—I don't want to die," he finishes weakly, hands fisting tightly in cloth pooling by the monster's sides.

The man's eyes soften slightly, and he sighs. The tang of warm iron feathers against Izuku's face. Reaching behind them both, the man swipes the lid to the side with one hand, the rough scrape of stone on stone making Izuku wince. Before Izuku can even move, he finds himself being hauled up and set outside the coffin on his feet. He staggers immediately, knees still weak, and nearly falls.

A calloused hand pushes against his back, keeping him upright. Izuku swallows and blinks away the spots crowding his vision, stumbling away to pick up his flashlight.

He turns again, cringing at the wet feeling between his legs. The man is sitting up in his box, peering at him curiously. Unable to help himself, Izuku tentatively asks, "So... you're n-not going to eat me?"

Tipping his head, the man gives him a hooded smile, dark hair shadowing his face as he answers, "Not anymore than I already have."

Izuku's face feels so hot he'd work well as a heat lamp.

The man steps smoothly out of his tomb and, to Izuku's surprise, folds into a bow. "Aizawa Shouta."

More habitually than anything, Izuku bows back. "Midoriya Izuku. It's, uh, nice to meet you?"

Aizawa smirks at him, the tips of his fangs flashing. "Well, Midoriya," he says, practically purring out the name. Izuku's breath catches. "Thank you for the meal. I hope you'll allow me the chance to taste you again. In a place where I can properly see you, this time."

With that, Aizawa rises from his bow and swirls into shadow, racing out of the doors of the mausoleum and leaving them banging open behind him. Moonlight spills into the tomb, and Izuku watches Aizawa's shadows zip through the cemetery and out into the night.

He has a feeling that he's just got himself into far more trouble than he knows.

#spooky prompts #my writing #aideku #smut #bnha #boku no hero academia #vampires #also i embellished this a little because japanese coffins are THICK aint no way one person is getting the lid off one of those things #tw dubcon #tw -18 #<- new tag bc tumblr keeps censoring the ones with the actual words in them #yes i am still pissed about that #tumblr is turning into a catholic church #anyway! sorry this took so long! dicks are hard :'D #asks #acerbicangryeel #long post #grim scribbles

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choibeomggyu · 2 years

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'Good Boy Gone Bad' MV - Beomgyu

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xiaoxiongmaos · 1 year

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#moasource #soobin #txt #choi soobin #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together #txt fanart #fanart #mine:fanart.#mine.#useryjunies #jeer ✨#ayabestie #higabi #userhaknew #guess who’s back c: back again c:#please support this it took me 6 hours over the course of 4 days to make 🥺#because i drew digitally after ages dkfkfjn had to figure out what brushes i used to go for & recall the finishing settings

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yjunies · 2 years

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1st runner up in txt’s 2nd outfit contest

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idontknowreallywhy · 7 months

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Stars Are Only Visible In Darkness

A scene thrown down in my lunch break. I’m still not particularly confident writing Serious things but this was inspired by two things -

A song on the Scott playlist shared by @lenfantdeverone this morning - Battle Cry by Imagine Dragons which has some lovely angsty chord sequences, gorgeous vocal melody and the cracker of a line that is the title of this little ramble.

The most excellent @sofasurf who is constantly encouraging and has clearly slightly broken my brain with her angsty-ptsd-Scott writing. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? Here is a weirdly dark birthday present for you… 😘

It’s established fanon that Scott ended up as a POW in Bereznik while in the Air Force, but how did that happen? One possible version of events…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Fear and fury danced a tango through his veins as he watched the khaki-clad thugs surround the small group of children and a woman he guessed was perhaps their teacher? An impromptu lesson in how to calmly stand up to playground bullies was underway but this particular gang was armed and accountable to nobody. One of them laughed with a coldness that sent ice rocketing down his spine.

He tried to tear his eyes away and move on. But his body was deaf to his logical instructions and so he waited.

It had been nearly 44 hours since he had been spiralling towards the ground with both engines aflame. He hadn’t stopped moving since his parachute caught on a rocky outcrop and arrested his fall with a jolt he was still feeling in his shoulders. He’d dodged the roving bands of soldiers and all the locals too - for how could he know who to trust? And even if he could, he’d only endanger them further. He’d crept slowly but surely towards the local town - hoping for somewhere to hide, food to steal, maybe some kind of weapon more useful than the short length of crumbling iron railing he carried and then… Well. A plan of some kind.

The town had been used as a shield for the local militia and everyone who lived there was effectively imprisoned in their own neighbourhoods. From the moment he’d entered through the heavily guarded gates clinging to the bottom of a truck he wondered how any of them were still functioning.

The devastation and oppression he had witnessed had crept under his skin like a poison he knew he couldn’t outlive. He would carry it for always now.

The latest Allied onslaught had meant half the place was in ruin. The residents were stoically keeping on going as best they could with what remained… as well as the makeshift medical centre he’d clocked a handful of shops, a tiny church and the primary school across the square from where he crouched among those that were still welcoming people through their sandbagged doors.

As for the rest… well… at least all the rubble and mostly-collapsed buildings provided shelter for one who knew how to use it. He’d slipped from shadow to shadow.

Watching, listening.

And it had paid off. His grasp of the local language was basic but he knew some key words and because of that he knew a cargo plane of armaments was due to arrive at the playing-fields-turned-airstrip on the other side of town in 2 hours. All he had to do was get there unseen, stow away until the ship was airborne again and then overpower the single pilot with the sedative that was the sole item left in the micro first aid kit stowed in his left thigh pocket.

The plan kept him upright when the despair surrounding him dragged his bones towards the ground.

The teacher crouched and addressed her flock with a gentle but emphatic tone as the soldiers jeered behind her. One lad shook his head, horrified, and one of the taller girls frowned and grasped her by the arm. She was shaken off and the trembling woman barked a one-word command that echoed through the courtyard

“RUN.”

Even he knew that word. And his brain shrieked at him to obey…

Seconds ticked by. Each one should have been taking him closer to that airstrip. He had a home to get back to. Brothers to get back to. Dad, Grandma, the farm. That cute librarian he’d promised to meet for coffee when he returned from duty. The smell of maple pancakes and bacon. A thousand sunrises. Hugs. Probably a medal and recognition as a war hero.

He had a life to live…

But so did the woman not 30 feet away, who was now stiffening her spine and lifting her chin in defiance to impossible odds.

She was more of a hero than Scott would ever be, the quiet, un-showy type only visible when everything else became so desperately dark. The kind that made the world worth saving.

He tightened his grip on the rusty metal bar and stepped out of the shadows into the square.

[AO3]

Ok a TBC did happen and got a bit massive…

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #Military!Scott #Warzone #Tw: war #songfic in the sense that listening to that song while you read would add to the atmosphere?#TB Estera #estera

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littlefeather-wolf · 3 months

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THE NATIVE AMERICANS "LUMBEE" RAN THE KKK OUT OF THEIR COMMUNITY ✊🏼✨✊🏼

Cole and his Klansmen widely advertised their event, driving throughout the county in a truck outfitted with a loudspeaker to broadcast their plans. The announcements infuriated the Lumbee community and some decided to try to disrupt the meeting. Fearing violence, local law enforcement officials pleaded with Cole to suspend his plans, but he refused. On January 18, 1958, Cole and about 50 Klansmen, most of whom were followers of his from South Carolina, gathered in a leased cornfield near Hayes Pond, a place adjacent to the town of Maxton. Several hundred Lumbees, many armed, arrived and encircled the group and jeered at them. After an altercation in which the single light in the field was destroyed, the Lumbees began firing their weapons and most of the Klansmen fled. Cole hid in a swamp while the Lumbees seized Klan regalia and carried them to Pembroke to celebrate. Police restored order on the field and arrested one Klansman.

Afterwards, Cole and the arrested Klansman were indicted and convicted for inciting a riot. The event was widely covered in the local and national press, which blamed the Klan for the disorder and praised the Lumbees for their actions. Cole never organized another public rally in Robeson County after the incident. In 2011 the Lumbee Tribal Council declared January 18 a "Tribal Day of Historical Recognition".

#native american #littlefeather wolf #lumbee

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dameronscopilot · 1 year

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Hello! First up I love love love your writing so thank you for sharing it with us here

How do you think Benny lost his virginity? I just can't get enough of that ray of sunshine 😍

Thank you so much 🥺!

Diving into allllllll the teen drama clichés here—I imagine Benny was probably into sports and fairly popular in high school. A ✨ jock ✨. However, instead of dating any of the girls that were obviously interested in him, he was too damn hung up on a pretty, quiet girl that he kept running into at the school library.

So, being Benny, he kept finding excuses to go to the library to get to know her. He liked her because she didn't fawn all over him, and she gave him a run for his money whenever he tried flirting with her. They became quick friends (and I like to imagine she made Benny get back in touch with his nerdy side).

She had no interest in going to prom, even when Benny tried to convince her to come with him as friends. Benny ditched prom right when the limo showed up—like, turning around, loosening his tie, and dramatically tossing his suit jacket into the bed of his pickup truck while his friends protested and jeered.

He showed up at her house—hair disheveled, several buttons undone on his white dress shirt and the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a grin on his face—and they drove around all night eating french fries and drinking milkshakes and seeing who could find the worst song on the radio. They eventually parked by a lake (the beach sounded more romantic, but we're landlocked in Colorado, folks), stargazed, kissed, kissed some more, and had sex in the bed of his truck just as the sky was starting to turn pink with the sunrise~*

#answers from the cockpit #benny miller #triple frontier

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wardenparker · 2 years

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Flyboy

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Extremely Explicit! Word Count: 12k Warnings: Alcohol, gold medal flirting, cocky young Frankie should have a warning all his own, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, masturbation, tits, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, protected sex, somnophilia (roleplay? technically? I dunno). Summary: Out to celebrate with your coworkers, you have a random encounter with a handsome Army pilot and decide to take a chance. Notes: ✨💖🎈Last week I passed the unbelievable milestone of 1.5k followers and I just absolutely cannot thank all of you lovely folx enough!! Well over a THOUSAND of you have joined me since I became a part of the Pedro fandom a little over a year ago and I am just continually floored by the amazing response you’ve all had to not only my work alone but my collaborations with Keri. Being able to come to this little corner of the internet and share my words with all of you has been a gift of magnitude that I cannot begin to explain properly. You have my gratitude, dear readers and followers, and I hope to continue to be silly in this corner of the internet with you for a long time to come.🎈💖✨

✈ I know the gif is from Hermanas, but I chose it because this is baby Frankie! ✈

The party had started with noon beers at your coworker's college graduation party. When it turned into afternoon sangria and then evening margaritas, the group of merrily celebrating coworkers had begun to dwindle a few at a time. Somebody's spouse came to whisk them off to dinner from the bar. A significant other joined the group for one drink and they both left together by the next. One of the older members of the group threw in the towel when she ran out of cigarettes, calling it her signal from the universe that her night was over. Another got called away by a different group of friends. Now it's just three of you left, bellied up to a high-top table in a dive bar with busy pool tables and a karaoke contest going on. The basket of popcorn on the table between you keeps you thirsty enough to brave the commotion to grab another rum and Coke, even as your two friends are giggling over the group of flyboys that are conquering the pool tables. "Who wants another?" You ask above the music, pointing to your friends' dwindling glasses.

Nights out on the town were sacred. The reward for surviving the instructors all week and not killing anyone as they learned control of the Bell UH-1 Iroquois, otherwise known as the Huey. “Yo Fish!” Frankie huffs, looking up from the table where he is positioned for his shot, knowing that the cocky motherfucker was just trying to distract him from his shot. He lands the next ball in the corner pocket and Smith owes him a hundred bucks. “It’s your turn to by rounds man!”

“In a hundred bucks!” He yells back, shaking his head. He turns back to the table, leaning down and calculating angles before he pushes the chalked-up cue forward to strike the cue ball into the striped three ball, pushing it into the corner pocket he had called earlier.

There's good natured hollering and jeering as you head toward the bar to grab another round for your friends as the flyboys give one of their own a hard time about something, and their inevitable good mood means it's going to take longer to squeeze past the pool tables to get to the bar. "Civilian coming through, boys. Make room!" You joke, trying to get them to move just enough to give you a tiny path through.

Rivera might be one of the best in the class, second only to Frankie, but he was a clumsy son of a bitch. It’s pure dumb luck that Frankie turns right as Rivera jumps back, his exuberant cheering causing him to back into the pretty woman that is edging her way through the sea of Army pilots in training. “Fuck!” Leaping forward, he manages to push past the overgrown child to catch her before she falls flat on her unstable - and cute - butt.

"You guys are really taking that whole sweep a girl off her feet thing seriously these days, I see." The one guy in the bunch with fast enough reflexes to keep you from hitting the ground is broad and strong, towering over you as he lifts you back up to your feet as easily as you snatched a falling piece of popcorn out of the air earlier. "Thanks, flyboy."

Frankie grins, quick and sharp, liking the way you punned your rescue. “Not but the best for damsels in distress.” He tells you with a wink. “But I’ll let you buy me a drink to thank me.” He’s teasing, knowing full well he won’t let you buy him a drink, although he would buy you one if you’ll let him.

"Hmmm." Pretending to consider him, you give the dimpled, smirking pilot a long look up and down before you nod. It's been a long day of carousing with people you're sort of half-friends with, and you could use a few minutes of getting hit on to revitalize your enthusiasm for the night before you go back to them. "Alright," you agree, aiming a smirk of your own right at him. "But just you, not the round you're supposed to be buying for all your buddies."

Chuckling, Frankie turns around and shoves the hundred dollar bill he had just taken off Smith back into the man’s hand. “There you go boys.” He crows. “Rounds on me and I’ll win another round some other time.” He tells him, knowing that Smith will beckon the pretty red headed waitress over to order some more beers and shots.

"So what's your poison, flyboy?" Having lived in this town for years, the tales of the Army pilots scouring their favourite dives for local girls to entertain for a night - or sometimes a whole weekend if the story gets embellished - are plentiful and entertaining. It's not the first time you've had run ins with them, if you could call this a run in, but it's the first time you've seen this particular guy and he is extremely easy on the eyes. Sidling up to the crowded bar together, you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves beside you. Like a summer night but in human form.

Frankie smirks, enjoying the nickname, even if ‘Morales’ is clearly marked on his uniform with a neat name bar. “Francisco, but you can call me Frankie or ‘Cat’ if you want.” He tells you. “What’s your name? I didn’t quite catch it when I was catching you.”

“I must have forgotten my manners with the lack of gravity,” you joke, giving him an amused smile before you tell him your first name.

“Beautiful.” He gives you a small wink. “Just like you.” After casually dropping the compliment, he turns towards the bartender who’s just arrived. “Drinks on my tab.” He tells him before he looks back at you. “What’ll it be?”

“I thought I was buying?” The question doesn’t hang in the air for long because the bartender is swamped, and you shake your head at the pilot beside you. “Rum and Coke.” You tell the bartender after another second, and you fish a few bills out of your pocket. “And two more margaritas for the two girls at the corner table by the windows.” You’ll happily kill a little time with this flyboy, and the bar has plenty of capable waitresses who can deliver the round you promised to buy.

Frankie shakes his head and pushes your money back towards you. “I’ll get it.” He tells you before ordering his own, a beer since he was under strict order to not embarrass the Army by getting shitfaced.

“You don’t have to pay for my friends.” Offering him the bill instead, you roll your eyes when he gives you an ’are you serious?’ look and tuck the money back into your pocket. “Thanks, then. From what’s left of my squad. I know they’ll appreciate it.”

“Girls’ night out?” He asks, craning his neck to look over at the table where the other two girls are watching you with devious little grins on their faces. Frankie tilts his head up in acknowledgement but then his eyes fall back to you. “Not putting a damper on things, am I?”

“Not at all.” You give your friends a wave and lean on the bar a little more. “We had a coworker’s graduation party this afternoon and we’ve been bar hopping ever since. Started out with ten of us and we’re the last three.”

“Three musketeers of trouble, huh?” He grins, matching your stance and swipes at his bottom lip with his tongue. Habit more than trying to draw your attention to his lips, but he doesn’t miss your eyes following the movement. “So which one are you?”

“Porthos, obviously.” Alright, he might be the only man in uniform to ever flirt with you using literary references, so you’re going to go ahead and give him bonus points for that even if he’s only ever seen the movies. He’s far too hot to not get bonus points for something. “Always up for a good joke, a drink, a flirt, all that good stuff. Nothing’s ever serious until it’s deadly serious and by that time I’ve already thought of three puns to use while kicking somebody’s ass.” That might be giving yourself a tad too much credit, but what is flirting if not selling yourself? Good sales need embellishment sometimes, that’s all.

“Really?” He lifts a brow and chuckles, enjoying the easy banter between the two of you. While going out was always in the hopes of meeting a gorgeous lady to perhaps take home - or in his case, get her to take him home - it wasn’t a requisite for a good night. However, his prospects for not sleeping alone just got better. “Aramis is more my personality but instead of religion, it’s flying.” He jokes. “Or maybe flying is my religion.”

“Seductions, poetry, and unwavering loyalty.” Clicking your tongue, the shoulder shrug you give him is more animated than just a dismissive little gesture. “That’s a hell of a way to promote yourself.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag…” The playful banter is cut off by the bartender bringing the drinks over and he sets all four in front of you. “I’ll deliver the drinks to the table.” He offers, giving you the choice of ending the conversation or continuing.

“Sure.” You can agree to that, despite knowing that your coworkers will try to chat him up and either tell him a ridiculous story about you or - much more embarrassing - tell him how long it’s been since you dated anybody and tease him about taking you home. Not that that would be a particularly bad thing. Not this guy. At least he has a brain behind that smirk.

Frankie nods, picking up the two margaritas and turning around to deliver them to the table. Buoyed by the fact that you aren’t following behind him, and still leaning against the bar as he holds the drinks up carefully to keep from being jostled as he winds through the crowd. “Ladies.” He coos as he sets them down. “Margaritas, compliments of your lovely co-worker.”

“I told you she was gonna get hit on next.” Your younger coworker complains, clearly hoping she would have gotten that honour. “You’re sure these aren’t from you and your buddies over there?”

“Annie—” The other woman swats at the friend’s arm playfully and offers the man in front of them a smile. “Ignore her. Thank you for the delivery, handsome. Be good to our girl, okay?”

Frankie chuckles and looks over at the swarm of servicemen still crowding around the pool table. “I’ll tell you what?” He points over at Smith. “You go up to that tall, goofy looking motherfucker right there and tell him ‘Cat said to buy us a round’, I’ll bet you that he’ll hit on you.” He looks at Annie. “And the one with the glasses? He’ll hit on you.” He predicts, knowing they are very much the other men’s type. “But at least you’ll get a free round.”

“See how gallant he is?” The older of the two women laughs and picks up her drink from where he set it in front of her and even Annie has to smile in agreement. “She,” your coworker leans in closer to the pilot conspiratorially and points at you across the crowded bar. “Loves reading and live music, and is inhuman without her morning coffee so make sure you remember that tomorrow.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Frankie winks at them and turns back to see you watching the interaction with an amused smile on your face. His grin gets a little wider and he keeps his eyes on you as he makes his way back to the bar. “Mission success.”

“Did they give you any tips or tell you an embarrassing anecdote?” You fully expect that of the two who are left, especially if Annie was feeling grumpy about not being flirted with.

“Just that I am to provide you with coffee in the morning if I expect human interaction.” He teases with a grin. “Which…same.”

“That…” A laugh escapes you and you shrug before taking a sip of your drink. “Is totally fair, actually. I can’t even get righteous about it.”

“Although maybe I need to be a little righteous.” Frankie picks up his beer and takes a sip of it. “They made it seem like I’m easy.” He huffs, pretending to be offended. “Like it’s guaranteed I’m going home with you tonight.”

“They’re hoping for a little water cooler gossip.” The way your wave it off is meant to be silly and a little dismissive, like of course your work friends just want the dirty details.

He snickers, leaning in again and glancing down at your lips. “Yeah?” He asks. “Does my little musketeer kiss and tell?” He tsks playfully. “Naughty.”

You nearly snort at the nickname, but have to admit that it’s weirdly cute. “Sometimes,” you admit, not missing the way his gaze drops to your lips before raking back up to your eyes. “If the kiss is worth talking about.”

“Hmmmm.” He pretends to take a notebook out of his pocket, miming writing in his palm. “Make kiss worth it.” He murmurs to himself. “Got it.” Looking up he flashes you a smirk. “Where?” He asks, knowing the question will confuse you.

“Where?” Tilting your head slightly, you pick up your drink to take a sip. Despite drinking on and off all day, you’ve had plenty to eat and plenty of nonalcoholic drinks, so it’s the question that’s confusing you and not booze making your brain float.

“Where do I kiss you to make it tellable?” He purrs.

“I thought you were trying to sell me on you not being easy?” The corner of your mouth quirks up in a smirk. Normally cocky isn’t really your thing, but he’s playful about it and you have to appreciate the hell out of that.

“Shit.” He hisses, rolling his eyes at himself. “Failed again.” He takes another sip of his beer and looks over at the table again, grinning when your friends are walking towards the pool table. “Your friends said you like reading. What genre?”

“The Three Musketeers is actually one of my favourites, but…” This question is always an interesting one for you to handle, but for no reason other than throwing caution to the wind, you decide to just tell him the blatant truth and see what his reaction is. “But most of what I read is romance novels, actually.”

“Nora Roberts type books or Anita Blake?” He asks, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “Or maybe a little of everything?”

“A little bit of everything.” He knows who Anita Blake is? Hiding your impressed expression behind another sip of your drink, you actually laugh a little. “Depends on my mood.”

“Completely understandable.” He can see you are curious about how he knows about romance novels, so he decides that he will let you in on a secret. “I grew up with three older sisters.” He tells you easily. “Swiped their romances novels a lot as a teenager to see what they were giggling over.”

That makes sense, and you nod in understanding. “And did you learn anything interesting from your sisters’ books?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs slightly, tucking his tongue in his cheek. “Hopefully so. I think so.” He sends you another wink. “Enough to get myself in trouble.”

“Good trouble, I hope.” If he’s read smutty novels then he might at least know how to find your clit, and that is another big bonus points.

“Cops have been called; noise complaints filed.” He admits with a grin. “That kind of trouble.”

“Not that a flyboy ever brags, right Aramis?” Noise complaints makes you smirk, knowing that your roommates have been ‘entertaining’ their own dates quite a bit lately and making a fucking racket in your apartment. A little payback might be fun.

“I didn’t know a sleep study was right next door.” He defends himself. “Besides, we weren’t even that loud.”

“A sleep study?” You burst out with a deep belly laugh, not expected that twist to the story at all. “Well shit, I hope they had good dreams after.”

“I tried my best.” He promises with, grinning at your laugh and tossing back the rest of his beer. Your own rum and Coke is looking low but he doesn’t know if you want another. “Want another? Or something else?” He asks, nodding towards your drink.

“Depends.” Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you deliberately lower your eyes to the gorgeous Cupid’s bow of his bottom lip before raising them again to meet his gaze. It’s not something you do - not often anyway. And it’s definitely early in the conversation to be bringing it up, but he’s…too good to pass up. “It’s cheaper to drink my own booze, if you want to give me something to talk about.”

He takes a minute to process it, checking your eyes to make sure you aren’t more intoxicated than you seem. When he sees that you are relatively sober, he nods. “If you’re sure?” He asks. “I’d love to talk with you.”

“You wanna tell your boys you’re leaving?” Most men probably wouldn’t bothering checking in with their guys, but you want to give him the option because you’ll definitely be sending his name in a text to your coworkers in case he didn’t introduce himself to them. A girl can never be too careful.

“Yeah.” He nods and looks over at the group that are now standing around the tables more than playing. “You can tell your girlfriends you’re leaving.” He flashes you a grin. “Make sure they know your name in case I end up missing, chained to your bed.” He quips. “I’d still be AWOL.”

“If you end up chained to my bed, it won’t be until after I know your safe word and any hard limits.” You tell him with the cool air of someone who actually has restraints on their bed. A four-poster bed and some scarves are the closest you come, but it’s fun to tease.

Frankie laughs, tossing his head back and letting it bark towards the ceiling. “God, we’re gonna have fun.” He predicts gleefully. His hand comes around you, resting on your back. “Come on Madame Dom. Let’s go make sure you’re safe and the assholes don’t look for me later on.”

“Pay your tab, flyboy.” He’s eager, and that makes you grin a little wider. “Or else it will be the bar looking for you and not your friends.” From your pocket, you pull out your phone and wave it slightly. “I’m gonna see if my roommates are home.”

“Shit, that’s right.” Frankie turns around and catches the bartender’s attention with his credit card. He can’t believe he almost forgot about his tab. The commander of the flight school would murder him if he had left a bill at a bar in town.

“All set?” His signature is down on the receipt as soon as the bartender puts it in front of him, and it looks like both of your roommates are out with dates tonight, so your end of things is all good. Thank god for that laundry spree you’d done a few days ago - clean sheets on the bed is something nice to look forward to even when you sleep alone.

“Yeah.” Frankie hands the guy a tip in cash and nods to him. “You want to say goodbye to your friends before we leave?”

“Probably should.” If you slip out without saying something, Annie will go from pouting to worried-little-sister mode in a heartbeat and start blowing up your phone nonstop. Which honestly is not such a bad trait to have in a friend that you occasionally bar hop with.

“I get it.” Frankie tells you. “You can’t be too careful.” His sisters had frequently called him when they went home with someone, baby brother would pick them up, but he was also protective of his sisters.

“Would you mind teaching the other men of the world that? Because they seem to think that our safety is emasculating then somehow.” You roll your eyes but smile, letting it turn into a grin when his friends make a roar of noise at your approach. It seems like this isn’t an all-too-unusual occurrence for your flyboy, but that doesn’t bother you. It’s not like you’re looking for a lifelong commitment here, just a little fun. “I’ll see you guys Monday,” You tell your friends, giving them both hugs. “Get home safe.” With a wink, you add. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Annie smirks, looking over at Frankie with a raised brow. “So, nothing?” She teases, only slightly jealous now that she’s flirting with the tall one like Frankie had predicted.

“Be nice or you won’t get details,” you laugh, giving them both a quick hug before stepping back to rejoin your new friend for the evening.

Frankie had already told the guys he would be back to base sometime, leaving it at that. “So, did you take a cab or drive?” He asks, knowing that he didn’t drive here tonight.

“Our driver got swooped up by her girlfriend an hour ago.” Phone already in hand, you can practically call for an Uber blindfolded with one finger in this town. Having so many bars and so many military men and women meant that on Saturday nights it was always easy to call for a ride. “The ride is only about ten minutes aaaand…it looks like our ride will be here in three.”

“Let’s get some air.” Frankie suggests, cover in hand as he guides you towards the door of the bar. He holds it open for you and as soon as he steps outside, he is placing it on his head, covering the military haircut and checking to make sure the cover is exactly aligned as it should be.

The night has turned cool, providing a little contrast to the scorching hot day and to the over-warmth of the crowded bar from so much body heat. It’s just enough to make you shiver once in your sundress and sigh happily. “Perfect night. Just cool enough to want someone nearby.”

“It is a nice night.” The two of you slowly stroll along the walkway in front of the bar, the noise muted behind its walls, only to blast out when the door swings open. “Although I did just realize something.”

“Oh yeah?” If you thought he was secretly a creep or married or something you never would have invited him to your place, so you doubt there’s about to be some big dramatic reveal, but he has a good sense of humor to go with that handsome face and has been good with pick up lines and such so far, so you just tilt your head at him and lean against the wall of the behind you. “What’s that?”

“Well, I think before you take me home…” He steps closer to you and his hand slowly reaches for your waist. “I think you should let me kiss you. To make sure you think it’s worth it.” He murmurs with a small smile on his lips as he looks into your eyes.

“Well, I think I’m worth going home with,” you tease, but you can feel your breathing shallow out a little at he presses into your space. Lord he really is exceptionally attractive, Aquiline nose and single dimple giving him a unique look that you can’t resist. “But why don’t you make sure you agree with me?”

He chuckles quietly, reaching up to hold your jaw between his thumb and index fingers, changing the angle slightly as he starts to lean in. “That mouth is gonna be trouble.” He murmurs before he presses his lips to yours, soft to start before leaning into it more.

Baby, you have no idea. The reply is right on the tip of your tongue, but he steals it away. It’s gone as soon as he spreads his fingers to cradle the line of your jaw in his large palm, replacing all of your senses with just him as you hum into the kiss.

Like anything good, Frankie firmly believes in getting a feel for it. Just like he’s doing as he kisses you. Slowly caressing your lips with his tongue and coaxing it open, allowing him inside. Heat will follow, rushed neediness would be there. For now, he wants to taste you, sampling the rum and Coke from your mouth and groaning when you give him a small whimper.

When you can think again, you’ll be congratulating yourself on what an excellent decision it was to take a chance on this flyboy, because if he’s half as dedicated to fucking you later as he is to kissing you right now, he might actually knock that one night stand from spring break two years ago right out of the top spot in your sexual history book. He tastes like beer and summertime and feels like even more of a wall than the one your back is pressed up against. One arm easily winds its way around his neck, your other hand finding his hip to draw him in closer. Body to body. That’s what you’re craving right now.

Frankie shuffles closer, enjoying the scent of your perfume and the softness of your lips, your body, as he presses you into the wall. Another swipe of his tongue, curling around yours expertly and humming deep in his throat when you moan again. It’s only because he senses a car pull up behind him does he pull away, staring at you as he straightens up. “I think that’s us.” He murmurs, throat slightly raspy with hunger.

“Huh?” There are no thoughts whatsoever in your head for a minute, until you blink heavily and his lips curl into a smirk and you realize you can see him better because a car’s high beams are pointed at you. “Oh. Right.” Nice job, dumb ass. “So am I worth going home with, then?” The tease is right back in place when you shake off the haze and reach for the Uber’s door.

“I knew that the moment you landed in my arms instead of on your ass.” He jokes. “Question is, am I worth taking home?”

“Get in the car, flyboy.” You tell him unequivocally, pulling the door open for both of you. “Or we’re walking.”

He chuckles, very pleased with your sass and throws the driver a grin. “Yes ma’am.” He might have copped a small feel of your ass as you climb into the car, but he was only trying to help you with your sundress.

Not the kind of person to be overly prim, you have no problem staying close to him in the back of the car as it pulls back out onto the main road toward home. The taste of his lingers deliciously, making you want to press your lips together to hold on to the sensation of having his on them. “It’s a quick drive,” you murmur out loud, though you have no idea if you’re telling him or reassuring yourself.

“That’s good.” Frankie shifts towards you, sliding his arm around your shoulders and his other hand settles on your knee. “It’s a good time to tells you how pretty you look.” He murmurs in your ear. Fingers tapping lightly on your skin.

Making out the back of a stranger’s car is bad manners, you remind yourself on repeat when his mouth hangs so near to you that you can almost taste him again. “Pretty enough to eat?” You joke. Well, half-joke.

Frankie knows he’s got you interested. He chuckles against your ear, shifting slightly and drags the hooked end of his nose up your cheek. “It’s a good thing I’m fucking hungry.” He rasps.

“Goddamn.” You could practically melt into this seat, and one of your hands grasps his thigh, nails biting in the material of his pants. “Good.”

His hand slides up, just a few inches. “Yeah?” He hums, making sure that his breath fans over your damp skin. “I can eat your pussy tonight?”

Carefully, your hand creeps higher in his leg to match his advance on you. “Gotta show me what you learned from all those books you snatched.”

His lips brush over the back of your jaw. “Also learned that women like to be seduced right?” His index finger starts drawing a little circle into your skin, working higher on your thigh. “It’s a big part of foreplay. Show them that you want them?”

“Mmhmm.” It’s nearly a whimper, and you nod against him. “Never gonna say no to that.”

“Good.” He slides his fingers up between your thighs, just a bare inch from your covered cunt. “Want to make sure your pussy is dripping when I finally slide inside.”

“Trust me.” When you shift to keep from squirming, your hand on his thigh grips just below the heft of his hardening cock and the side of your hand brushing against it makes you feel like you’re about to see stars despite the fact that he’s barely touched you yet. “That’s not going to be an issue.”

He chuckles again, turning his head when the car starts to slow down. “Are we almost home, beautiful?”

“The next building down.” It’s mostly for the driver, who started pulling up to the wrong apartment complex, but also for the man beside you. The apartment would be spacious for a couple or small family, so for you and your two roommates it’s just right. But you’re prepared to thank every lucky star in the universe that neither of them is home tonight.

Frankie reluctantly pulls away, knowing the two of you will need to get out of the car in order to make it into this apartment of yours. The driver finds the right building and pulls to a stop. He opens the door and steps out, waiting for you to see if you need help. "Thanks for the ride, man."

The car is gone into the night almost as soon as you let yourselves into the front door of the building, and the stairs are blessedly abandoned when you get inside. “It’s just the second floor,” you tell him, motioning to the stairs. “The elevator hasn’t worked in years.”

“That’s no problem.” He shoots you a grin. “There aren’t any elevators in the barracks. Even the officer’s barracks.”

"You boys just get wings on your boots, huh?" You throw him a grin as you head up the stairs in the cramped lobby. "Every bit of sky is yours for the taking."

He chuckles and has to refrain from taking the stairs two at a time. “I mean, yeah.” He huffs. “Nothing like it. Best fucking feeling ever being up there.”

"I think maybe I need to get my ass up in a plane, because I'm pretty sure sex still tops every flight I've ever taken." You meet him on the top step and easily slip your hand into his outstretched one. "Third door on the left, flyboy."

Frankie walks dutifully to the door with your hand in his and stands to the side. Understanding why you let go of his hand, but still pouting slightly as you dig your keys out of your purse. The place is dark when you push inside, and you drop your keys and purse on the side table next to the door as soon as you're through so you can reach for him again. "Home sweet home."

Frankie hums and looks around before he grins at you, wrapping his arms around your body. “Show me your room.”

"This way." There isn't a chance in hell that you're going to move out of his arms. Instead, you go in the complete opposite direction, slipping your arms around his shoulders and pressing your lips to every bit of skin along his neck that you can manage as you tug him toward your bedroom.

Groaning, he remembers to yank his cover off his head and crush it in his hand while he moves with you. Eager to get into that bedroom of yours. It’s been a few weeks since he’s gone home with a girl and he wants to strip you down and make both of you feel incredible.

"Is it some kind of weird treason if all this ends up on my floor?" As soon as the door is shut behind you, you're fumbling blindly for the buttons on his uniform, far too interested into diving into a hungry kiss to actually try to be graceful.

Laughing, he shakes his head and tosses the cover on the floor. “Not at all.” He tells you. “It’s considered patriotic to throw it on the floor.”

"I'm suddenly feeling the most patriotic I've ever been in my life." It feels like his entire uniform is made of buttons though, and your uncoordinated fingers stumble over the obstacles enough times that you pout against his lips. The last thing you want to do is stop kissing him, but you also want to know what he's hiding under all that fabric.

His hands come over yours, stopping you. "Why don't you let me do it?" He asks, smirking at your frustrated grunts and the pout you give him. "That way you can enjoy."

“Fine…” It’s with a deeply dramatic sigh and an immediately playful grin that you relinquish control, letting him take over the pace and exactly what pieces of his uniform will come off when. You kick your sandals off and don’t hesitate to pull your dress over your head, smirking when he is now the one pouting as you back up to climb into your bed.

"Damnit." He hisses, ripping off his blouse and immediately pulling his undershirt off to show off the lean planes of his body. Frankie isn't ripped, God no, but as a twenty-give year old Army officer, he is in pretty fucking decent shape. The shadows of abs was enough for him, he wasn't going to starve or dehydrate himself to fucking achieve that look. Besides, from the hungry look on your face, you don't mind at all.

He's fucking beautiful. Like mouthwateringly perfect, as far as your taste in men. He's broad and strong and his massive hands could probably wrap around your throat or your thighs with equal ease. If you weren't already laying back in a pile of your own pillows with your fingers mere inches from your soaking wet panties, you would already be on your knees in front of him. But the view from where you are is your own personal striptease and you are doing your goddamn best to memorize every detail for masturbation fuel in the future.

"Touch yourself." Frankie orders, voice rough as he starts to unbuckle his belt. He smirks at your surprised expression, and he nods towards your cunt. "You want to touch yourself, do it." He orders again. "Right here. Shove your hands into your panties and touch your swollen little clit for me."

"Fuck." That wasn't at all the response you expected to get from him and your hand dives into your panties faster than you can think and the way you moan at that first touch of your own fingers to your clit makes his eyes go impossibly darker with want.

"Goddamn baby." He hisses, quickly unhooking and unzipping the starched dress pants and dropping them down, kicking them and his shoes off at the same time and leaving him in the black socks and stark white boxers that do nothing to hide the erection that is currently tenting the material. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He coos, eyes fixated on your cloth covered core.

"Gonna be better when it's you." It doesn't take much to shift on the bed, dragging your panties aside with the hand that isn't knuckle deep in your own wet pussy. "Take it all off and get the fuck over here, flyboy. Wanna touch you."

He chuckles and smirks down at you, hooking his thumbs under his boxers. "Yes ma'am." He teases, pushing them down and stripping them off before he stands tall again and lets you get a good look at him fully nude.

"Goddamn, baby." Giving his own words right back to him, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth and groan as your eyes rake up and down the length of his body. You're squirming in place, hips rocking on your own fingers, while you take in the sight of his thick cock already beaded with precum just begging to split you open.

Winking cockily, Frankie knows that you are eager. Kneeling on the bed and wrapping his fingers around your ankle to tug it slightly closer. Pulling you towards him as he crawls up to join you. “Like something you see, pretty girl?”

"Have a feeling I'm gonna fuckin love something I see." Fuckin love or love fucking - both are entirely true. He brings you closer, making it easier for you to lean in and nip at his bottom lip. "Gonna let me ride that cock after you eat my pussy?"

His lips chase yours for another kiss while his cock bounces against your inner thigh. "After your legs are up on my shoulders and I make you cum all over my cock." He promises, nipping back at your lip playfully, loving the fact that you like to use your teeth.

"So many big plans." Pouring a groan into his mouth, you let the kiss turn hungry for a long moment. It's a gorgeous distraction for just as long as it takes to drag your fingers out of your own slick and wrap them around his length.

Grunting into your mouth, he twitches under your touch, enjoying the firm grip you have around him. His own hands reaching for your panties, tearing them in his eagerness to get to your cunt. The ripping of the fabric making him grunt again.

The feeling of that fabric ripping against your skin - the sound of it, too - makes you absolutely whimper into his needy kiss. “Fucking hell, baby. Touch me. Please.” You beg, blindly searching for his hands to push at least one of them towards where you need him most.

The next chuckle is dirty, bordering slightly mocking as he starts to kiss down your jaw and nips your pulse sharp enough to make you gasp. His fingers don't give in, instead he spreads them, cupping your bare cunt and covering it with his palm. "Is someone needy?" He coos, teasing you with a little lick at the hollow of your throat before biting your collar bone and moving down another few inches.

“I’ll wrap my fingers around your cock again and we’ll both be needy,” you shoot back, laughing despite how badly your body is singing with desire.

"Baby, I'm gonna be needy until I'm balls deep inside this tight, hot little pussy." He murmurs, smirking up at you before kitten lick the tip of one breast before he wraps his lips around it.

The way you keen is messy and needy in all the best ways, and your head falls back on the pillow behind you. The only nuisance is that he doesn’t have any hair to speak of for you to run your fingers through or grab onto, leaving you to rake your fingernails against the base of his skull encouragingly as you moan for him. He loves the way your nipple responds. Tightening under his tongue as he drags it over it. Scraping his teeth across the firm peak and sucking it back in his mouth to tease it some more. Groaning around it before he pulls off with a wet pop and switches over to the other.

If somebody were at home besides the two of you, they would already be pounding on the door in annoyance at how vocal the two of you are together. Every sound that comes out of him is heavenly sin - egging you on and encouraging you to meet his enthusiasm. Not that you need the help, already panting and moaning under him as though you'd been starved of intimacy for years.

Frankie nudges at your breast, pushing at it as he sucks, enjoying the way you whimper and scratch at his head. Trying to pull him closer and push him down to where you need him all at the same time. He loves a woman who’s responsive, who’s nearly feral for his touch.

He keeps at your tits until you’re nearly growling, and the low chuckle he gives before starting to trail his mouth southward again has you on the edge of sanity. He practically has you about to cum just sucking on your tits, you might melt into the bed once he finally sets that tongue to work on your cunt.

His tongue dips into your navel, showing you exactly what his plan for your aching little hole is. He flicks his tongue deep and laves around his generously, lips twisted upward when your legs lift and your heels dig into his shoulder blades.

“Go ahead and gloat, flyboy.” You’ve always been the kind of person to have a sense of humor about sex, and especially when it’s something like this. He has every right to feel good about how worked up he’s gotten you, and he’s clearly enjoying the affect he has on you. That’s all a part of pleasure, in your opinion.

He chuckles and bites at the swell of belly over your mound, scraping his still smooth cheeks against it before he slides down again. "Not gloating." He hums, winking at you. "Just enjoying myself." He turns his head and kisses one thigh and then turns his head the opposite direction to kiss the other. "I like a woman who's playful and needy in bed." He confesses before he flattens his tongue and makes the first pass over your clit.

“Fuck!” He takes you by surprise, and your head nearly hits the headboard when it drops back, making you giggle. When that giggle turns into another moan, your fingernails find his scalp again with ease. “H—hopefully loud, too. Shit, baby.”

He just is moaning into your cunt in answer, burrowing his tongue deeper as his vocalizations resonate into your skin. He loves how loud you are, wants you to be louder for him. To give him everything you've got and fall apart. His hands spread your thighs wider, letting him reach more of you with unabashed enthusiasm.

Every word out of your mouth is the highest praise, every sound is pure sin that spurs him on in his quest to bring you the most pleasure he possibly can. His tongue is just as good - maybe even better - on your weeping cunt as it was weaving sinful promises in your ear earlier and the Army needs to invent a medal for pussy eating right away.

You taste incredible. Tangy and musky, making. him lick and suck on your folds, nibble on the lip of your cunt and groan when he plunges his tongue into your velvety softness and lets it slide through the fresh slick leaking from you. Pushing your hips back, lifting your legs up off his back so he delves deeper and spear his tongue upside you to curl up.

That tingling sensation that rolls through your entire body, sparking nerves out to the very tips of your fingers and toes and taking any possible sense of restraint you had with it. The rambling, cursing, barely coherent warning you manage to eek out before you cum the first time is punctuated by a cry of his name - the first time you’ve actually used it all night – but he has absolutely earned the plaintive wail of “Fuck, Frankie!” When you fall apart for him.

Hearing you, feeling you start to cum just makes Frankie double down. His tongue flicking and his jaw aching but he continues to eat you like a starved man. Groaning into you while his hips shift subtly against the bed, grinding against it for friction while his mouth is flooded with your essence.

If it was destined to be a one-orgasm night, it would still be a really fucking excellent night. Fortunately for both of you it absolutely won't be - but the boneless way you fall back into your pillows again after having arched off the bed speaks to exactly how hard you just came for him. "Jesus fuckin Christ." An indulgent, filthy giggle bubbles up out of you when he doesn't let up right away. "You're gonna kill me, baby."

He chuckles, pulling away and giving your clit a few slow, lazy licks as he watches you recover. You’re gorgeous this way and he admires the way your tits rise and fall. Slapping the outside of your thigh, he raises a brow. “Want another before I fuck you?” He offers.

It's such a loaded question, because you desperately want to cum as many times as he'll let you, but you aren't the only person in this bed right now. "Still want to ride you, gorgeous. If I cum that hard again on your tongue, I might not be able to make my legs work afterward."

Frankie grunts a small gawf and nods, lifting up to his knees and sliding off the bed. “Let me get a condom out of my wallet, then.” He wanted to keep you safe as well as himself, grabbing the pants off the floor and fishing his wallet out. The shiny foil packet in hand, he gives you a triumphant grin.

"Love a man that shows up prepared." You grin at him, crooking one finger to beckon him back into your bed. Of course you have condoms stashed in your nightstand but it's nice to see someone else stepping up to the plate of responsibility.

“Boy Scout.” He quips and climbs back into the bed with you. “Now….” He puts the edge of the foil packet in his teeth and rips it open. “I think I promised you an orgasm with your legs up on my shoulders while you cum all over my cock.”

"Shoulders like those were made to be leg rests," you tell him with a grin, managing to steal a kiss after he's tossed the foil packet in the general direction of your trash can.

Frankie bites his lip, rolling the rubber down his length and pumping himself a few times before he caresses your legs. Pulling them up onto his shoulder and shuffling forward to slide the head of his cock through your folds. “Ready?”

"Shit yes." If it would do you any good to grasp at him or push closer, you would. But from this angle and with one of his big hands grasping your legs, all you can really do is squirm. "Come on, baby. Fill me up."

He teases your clit for another pass before he lined up, the head of his cock pushing against the soft entrance to your body and keeps his eyes on you while he slowly sinks in.

If you hadn’t been dripping wet from the second he kissed you, it definitely would been a pinch to take all of him, being as thick as he is. Now, though, Frankie is fully seated to the hilt in your hot cunt with almost nothing more than a lazy roll of his hips, making you whimper and moan under him happily as he shifts into the exact position he wants.

Frankie’s fingers stroke your legs gently, almost tenderly as he waits for your body to relax. Letting him lean down and fold your legs over as he stretches his jaw and manages to plant a tiny kiss on your lips. His dog tags hang around his neck, dangling between you. “Want to hear you.” He reminds you softly, before he abruptly pulls his hips back and slams back into your cunt.

Volume isn’t exactly a problem, but the way he pushes the breath out of your lungs on that second powerful thrust means it’s a strangled moan that pours from your lips instead of more teasing words. One of your hands grasps for his hip when he plows into you again and the other paws at your own tits, twisting your nipple with the perfect to almost be painful alongside the pleasure.

The steady, hard thwacks of his hips against your thighs fills the room, along with the gasps and groans from the two of you. You are fucking tight like this, squeezing his cock before your walls ever clench in pleasure. “F-f-fuuuuck.” He hisses, each syllable accompanying another swing of his hips.

“God — fuck — feel so good, baby.” If he wants to hear you, you’ll damn well make sure that what he’s hearing is complimentary and true. “So fucking deep, oh my god —”

“Yeah?” He pants out, keeping up the brutal pace and making sure that each thrust bottoms out. One hand reaches your and squeezes your tit. “Want more?”

“Every — oh fuck—” A particularly punishing thrust shoves you further up you bed and you have to reach up to keep from knocking your head against the headboard of your bed. “Everything you got, flyboy.”

Frankie flashes you a grin, wicked and promising. “Roger.” If you had thought he was giving you his all, you were sorely mistaken. His dog tags swing wildly and beat against his chest while he ramps up his pace.

If you had thought about anything besides how fucking good his cock feels shredding up inside you for just half a second, you would have realized that you were issuing an accidental challenge. Now you can’t do anything but hang on for the ride, so to speak, and throw both hands over your head to avoid banging your head, and give him every ounce of vocal encouragement that he is definitely earning.

He absorbs your sounds, greedy for each one. Even stretching down to kiss you again. Steadily pounding into you before he slides his hand down to thumb at your clit.

You might shake apart with the force of the orgasm you can feel building, but you will happily give in to it. The wave that crashes through you has you practically squealing, with his name as the only word to be understood in all the praises and rambling as you fall apart underneath him.

Frankie doesn’t fuck you through it. Instead he lets your legs slide down into the crooks of his elbows so he can hover closer. Breath mingling with yours while he slowly grinds himself into your grasping and fluttering little hole. “Good girl.” He coos. “Fuck, you feel so good baby.”

“So good.” With him this close you can grasp his dog tags like a collar and meet him halfway for a messy, enthusiastic kiss. “Can’t wait to hear how gorgeous you scream my name when you cum.”

His chuckle is low and raspy, making him stop moving and focus on kissing you, still buried in your cunt.

It’s tricky to do when he’s completely overwhelming your senses, but you rock your hips with his and tighten your legs at his sides to roll him into his back with a victorious grin. “Your turn to enjoy,” you promise him, nipping at his lips while you roll figure 8s on his lap with his cock deep inside you at a whole new angle.

“God.” He doesn’t know what to grab. Your hips, your tits, his hands are everywhere. Pinching your nipples and cupping the soft flesh, while watching, alternating between your tits, your face, and the tiny space where he can see his cock disappearing inside you.

“That’s it, baby.” You hum, tossing your head back to let your tits stand out as you start to rise and fall on his length. “Feels so fucking big like this.”

His feet dig into the downy comfort of your bed, bracing them so that his can jerk his hips up. Driving up into you from the bottom and push deeper when you sit back down on his cock. "You like it." He huffs, pushing your tits together and flicking the peaked tips.

“Fucking love it.” There’s no way you’re about to deny that, especially not with the perfect way he’s got his hands on you right now. Every time you bounce on his cock his hands squeeze your tits a little tighter, and each tweak of your aching nipples is fantastic.

"Good." He huffs, biting his lip and trying to control his body as it reacts to the drag of your cunt in this position. Despite you cumming already, he wants you to cum again. Needs to see it before he gives in to his own need. "Look so good riding my cock." He pants out. "So fucking good."

Each time he bottoms out inside you, you swirl your hips in his lap, rocking downward to give you more momentum to bounce up again, and the combination has both of you moaning and panting unashamedly. You can’t remember the last time it felt this good to have someone inside you, and to be honest you might be a little bummed in the morning when he takes off never to be seen again. But at least tonight is fucking amazing.

"Fuck." He slaps your tit lightly and lets go, gripping your hips and rocking up into you again. Watching your heavy-lidded eyes as they flutter and your own hands drift over your skin. You look fucking amazing on top of him, he wasn't lying about that. "Come on baby, cum again." He coos. "You know you want to."

“Want me to — oh god, squeeze that thick cock, baby?” That’s all the encouragement you need for your hand to drift down to your cunt, fingertips rubbing tight circles on your clit that make you cry out into the dark night.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” He hisses, gritting his teeth when you start to squeeze him. Both hands on your hips while you freeze over him, body locked up in pleasure and he thrusts up into you wildly now. “Fuck, fuck, fuck baby.” He growls, staring at you while his own orgasm starts to build up. “Fuck, gonna cum.”

“Fuck yes, cum for me.” He’s going to look spectacular as he falls apart, you just know it, and the hand that isn’t rapidly stroking your swollen clit reaches down to rake your blunted fingernails down his chest.

Frankie shudders, shouting out and starts to cum. Gripping your hips in a bruising hold, he surges up into you one last time. Gasping and moaning your name while he spills into the condom.

“Fuck, Frankie!” The combination of sensations is too good, and another orgasm rips through you like wildfire. Shaking with it, your cunt clenches down in his length even harder, milking every last drop of cum from him until you feel like you’re about to black out from the pleasure. “Oh my fucking god. So good.” You whine, panting for breath as the aftershocks finally start to subside.

Frankie grunts, pulling you down against his chest while he slowly grinds up into you. Finally just throbbing inside you as he strokes your back. “Holy shit.” He pants, feeling euphoric and exhausted.

“Right?” You can’t help giggling, the ethereal feeling swimming in your body making you feel light as air as you reach to kiss him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, looking up at the ceiling when you kiss his jaw and hum. “Aren’t you glad I caught you?” He teases playfully.

“Goddamn right I am.” You agree without hesitation and rest your head on his chest. “This was the perfect way to thank you for it.”

He can’t disagree with you. He lifts his head slightly, kissing the top of yours.

“You…do you…wanna stay?” Heavy sleepiness is quickly setting into your body, but you’ll fight to stay awake long enough to drive him back to wherever if that’s what he wants. You would just as soon wake up beside him in the morning and maybe go one more round before having to say goodbye to him.

“Yeah.” Frankie has zero desire to return to his room at the barracks. It didn’t matter that officer’s didn’t have to share; it was still a barracks room. He kisses your head again. “But I got get rid of this condom first.” He murmurs. “You got a trash can in here, or bathroom?”

“Next to the bed.” You vaguely point to your right - his left - where your nightstand is and sigh quietly, happy that the little bubble of perfection you found tonight won’t be bursting too soon.

He smirks when you refuse to peel yourself off of him for a few more moments. Finally huffing and lifting off his cock while he holds the base of the condom so he can roll over and take it off. He huffs, always hating this part of condoms, tying it off and taking one step to put it in the trash before he climbs back in the bed. “Now you can lay back on me.” He promises, dragging you closer again.

“You’re comfy.” And you aren’t the least bit ashamed to acknowledge that, cuddling up to his chest again like a clingy cat after he shuts off the light.

“Hmmm, good.” He doesn’t even deny that he likes the warmth of you on him. His hand strokes your back slowly as you settle and sighs softly. “‘Night, beautiful.”

“G’night, sexy.” The smile on your lips will last until morning without fail, and hopefully your dreams will just be a replay of what you did in this bed before passing out.

******

Being in the military means that no matter how much he drinks, how tired he is, come zero six hundred - he’s awake. He’s actually been awake for half an hour, watching you sleep, curled into his side. You have this cute little pout and he figures you will be mortified when you learn you drooled on him. Except now, he’s gotta pee and he’s about to die of thirst. Slowly shifting, he carefully moves you so that you don’t wake up, allowing him to slide out of the bed.

There’s movement in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and cinnamon wafting through the apartment, and quiet chatting that pauses temporarily when a door creaks open and shut. “You’re up early!” A voice calls out, with clear teasing lining the comment. “Figured you’d sleep in after the porno you lived last night.”

He’s glad that he swiped his boxers up and put them on. He hadn’t expected to run into your roommates this early, but he just gives a shrug of his shoulders. Shit like this happens every once in a while. Instead of hiding or slipping into the bathroom and going back to your room, Frankie walks into the kitchen. “She’s still asleep.”

“Oh!” The petite blonde clutching her coffee cup bursts out into an embarrassed giggle and so does the redhead with her. Their jaws are practically on the ground, though, and they give each other an impressed glance. “Uh…hi! Coffee?”

“I’d kill for some.” Frankie flashes them a grateful smile, not at all embarrassed to be standing in front of them with nothing but his boxers and his dog tags on. He had routinely showered with thirty other men and shit in stalls with no doors in OCS, this was a piece of cake. “And a cup for her?” He asks, stepping further into the kitchen. “I don’t know how she drinks it.”

“Black.” The red headed girl grabs two mugs from the cupboard and hands them off to the blonde to be filled. “So…you guys sounded like you had fun…” The two girls exchange smirks that are meant to cover looks of concern.

“She’s still alive.” He promises, smirking slightly as he watches the blonde pour the coffee. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’ll call you an Uber if it was just a one-night thing for you.” The blonde tells him matter-of-factly, as she sets two full coffee mugs down on the kitchen island. “She’s just…she’s been on the receiving end of a lot of bullshit lately, so if you’re not into her it’s easier if you just go.” The protective, sister-like energy is strong with these two, and it’s obvious they’re not trying to be rude. They just care about you.

If he’s irritated by the nosiness of the roommate, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he picks up a cup of coffee, the smaller one, and takes a sip. “Would be a shitty thing to do.” He comments are that first sip. “To just slink off. I’m not that kind of man.”

“Good.” That seems to mollify her, and she nods. “In that case the bathroom’s the next door on the right and there are cinnamon rolls about to come out of the oven.”

He grins and sends her a small wink, setting down the coffee. “Happy I passed the test.” He tells her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll use the bathroom and then bring her that coffee.”

The second he’s gone, your roommates look at each other with what can only be described as awe, and stifle some shared laughter. “Oh my god she wasn’t kidding…he’s…gorgeous.”

Frankie uses the bathroom, washes his hands and comes back out to go back into the kitchen. The giggling stops again, and he just picks up the coffee mugs and throws them both a knowing smirk. “I would probably play some music or something.” He warns them with a wink before he trots back down the hallway.

“We’re leaving for work!” They call back, and he can hear the sound of a metal tray clanging on its way out of the oven as your bedroom door shuts behind him.

Frankie chuckles, seeing you starfished across the bed and he sets down the coffee cups on the dresser. It wasn’t something that the two of you had talked about, so he decides that waking you up with oral isn’t a good idea. Instead, he crawls back in the bed and manages to nudge you over so he can stretch out beside you.

“Mmmm…” From the edges of your fading dream, you can feel a hand stroke your back and you sigh right before your eyes open. “Morning…”

“Morning.” Frankie hums, keeping his hands solely on your back instead of drifting to other, more interesting places. “I have coffee for you.”

“Sexy and thoughtful.” You snuggle closer to him for a second before your eyes pop open in dismay. “My roommates came home last night, didn’t they?”

“Sorry.” Frankie winces, hearing your unhappy tone. Maybe you didn’t want them to know? Even if you had called from the bar. “I can get a ride and take off.”

“God, were they that bad?” Fully awake now, you tuck a blanket around your body and look up his frown with concern. “They just tend to get a little…protective. I was going to apologize if they said something rude when I wasn’t there to tell them to knock it off.” Of course, they were only that way because of the shitty luck you had had with guys you brought home, and you so very much don’t want Frankie to end up as just one more of those guys.

“No, they were fine.” He promises. “I just figured you weren’t too happy they knew you brought someone home.”

“No, no, nothing like that.” You shake your head adamantly. “I’m glad you’re here and I don’t give a fuck who knows it. The reason I asked them to give us privacy last night was so I could be as loud as I wanted without them giving me shit about keeping them up. Because they both work this morning. That’s all.”

“They said they’re leaving for work.” He hums, mollified that you don’t want him to leave. He leans in and drags his nose across your cheek. “So, we’ll be alone again.”

“Coffee can wait.” The decision comes with a deep hum, and you easily wrap your arm around his waist to drag him under the covers with you.

“Thought about waking you up with my tongue.” He confesses, kissing along your jaw. “But I didn’t know how you would react to that.”

“Next time.” He nudges you over onto your back and you nearly purr at the early morning affection. The offer is really just a hopeful one. Hopeful that this morning won’t be the least you see of him. “Next time, you definitely should.”

“Yeah?” He nibbles on your collar bone and hums happily. “I can do that.” He slides his hand down to slot between your thighs. “Could always pretend you are asleep right now.”

You grin, giggling a little as you immediately shut your eyes and slump back in your pillows dramatically. “Who’s pretending? I’m totally still asleep,” you tease.

“Good girl.” Frankie grins and ducks his head under the covers, moving his way quickly down your body and gently pries your legs apart like he’s trying not to wake you.

Two of your favorite words, but you don’t say a thing as he shifts you into the position he wants. Being woken up like this is one of those things that you never have asked for or suggested, especially because you have a track record of picking guys that don’t stick around for long.

“Fuck.” He groans quietly at the sight of your swollen and puffy lips, slick from the nights activities and fresh arousal coat your skin and he hums. “Someone’s have naughty dreams.” He teases quietly, bumping your clit with his nose before he kitten licks it softly.

You can’t help humming a little, letting the sound be something like a non-communal sleeping sound as best as you can. You had had very naughty dreams about all the things you wanted him to do to you - or you to him - and you’re already about to check one off the list. What’s not to love? He chuckles, kissing your lips and starts to softly press the flat of his tongue against your folds. Gently treating your cunt like it is the most delicate treat, completely opposite from his treatment of you last night.

A soft, indulgent sigh parts your lips and you swear you melt a little deeper into the mattress with pure relaxation. He's as gentle as a spring sunrise this morning and when you shift underneath him it's akin to the stretching of a lazy cat instead of the frantic, needy squirming of last night. His tongue flutters and softly flicks over your swollen folds, groaning slightly and urging your thighs open a little more. Still pleased with how well you are playing at being asleep as he gathers your clit in his mouth to suck softly.

Not wanting to ruin the game, you swallow a whimper and keep your eyes shut tight. As much as you want to hear him growl his approval at your fingernails on his scalp again, letting him enjoy and explore so gently is its own kind of beautiful.

This is everything that last night wasn’t and yet it doesn’t feel any less or more. It just feels like another layer of this time with you. The contrasts match so beautifully. He moans quietly, sliding his shoulder to the side so he can ease two fingers into you.

There's no way to mask this moan, or the way your hips lift off the bed ever so slightly to go along with the motion of his hands. If you weren't awake before you most certainly would be now, and the feeling of Frankie's thick fingers stretching you out so lazily is amazing.

He hums, pleased at your reaction and he pulls his lips away from your clit with a soft pop. “‘Morning.” He teases before he resumes his ministrations.

"Good--" As soon as he dives back in, the phrase is broken by a plaintive sigh. "Fuck, morning, baby." As frantic, needy, and desperate as the two of you were last night, this morning is nothing but lazy and indulgent and it is absolutely glorious.

He chuckles and curls his fingers up slowly, deliberately. “Want you to cum for me, again.” He murmurs, tracing his name into your cunt with his tongue.

"Yes – fuck – yes, sir." He's like an expert musician, plucking the strings of your pleasure to absolute perfection without really even needing to practice.

Frankie gets call ‘sir’. Due to his rank, he gets called sir at least a hundred times a day. But the way you say it has him moaning, his fingers sharpening their curl just a bit and the hand on your hip gets tighter, like the way that sounds coming out of your mouth.

“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby — gonna cum!” For as gentle as he has been, it’s still like a freight train. Rolling through every inch of your body with the same power that last night’s demanding pace had, except this time it almost makes you float. It’s like Frankie’s fingers and tongue are keeping you afloat in his very own ocean of pleasure and why in the hell would you ever want to be anywhere else.

He growls in pleasure. Happy that you are nearly bowing up off the bed in pleasure and he slowly works you through it. Wringing your body if every ounce of pleasure it can gleam from his tongue. “Fucking hell, Frankie,” you pant, grasping at breaths as he slowly lets you down again off the cloud-like pillow of bliss.

Chuckling, he kisses your clit one last time and crawls back up the bed to lay down beside you, throwing a leg over yours. “Good?”

“Good?” The incredulity in your voice is marked by a throaty laugh. “Yeah, flyboy. Extremely good.”

“Well, the old motto of the Army is ‘Be All That You Can Be’.” He jokes

“You’re doing amazing, baby.” You promise him with a chuckle. “When…um, when do you have to be back?” It’s a Sunday and you know fuck all about what an average day in the military is like, but all you really want to know is how much longer you’ll get to savor having him right here beside you.

“Flight training at zero five thirty on Monday. So, I can’t drink tonight.” He explains, thinking you might want to go back to the bar.

“That’s fine.” Tipping your head back so your chin rests on his chest, you crack a smile that warms through your whole body despite being nervous at the question. “Does that mean you might want to hang out today?” He could easily have told you he had plans or obligations, but he didn’t, and you can feel the hope swell in your chest.

He pauses for a moment before a slow smile slides across his face. “I think that would be fun.” He tells you, sliding his hands up and down your back. “Your roommates said there were cinnamon rolls, but we could always go get breakfast, swing by base and grab a set of civvies for me.”

“What are your feelings on shared showers?” The sparkle in his gorgeous brown eyes reads as delight and you can feel a rabble of butterflies erupt in your belly. “There’s a new diner on Main Street that I’ve been dying to try. My treat.”

He huffs and pokes his lip out at you. “Now my momma would beat me if I let a lady pay the morning after.” He tells you with a grin.

"You're gonna let me pay for something eventually." You tell him in a tone that brokers no protests, but the sunny grin on your face says it's not a serious matter in the least and you lean in just barely to kiss the pout off his perfect lips. "Is that a yes?"

“Maybe.” He concedes, with his own grin on his lips. “Why don’t we try to share that shower and then we will see where today takes us.” He offers, feeling like he is asking something more serious than just a day after a one-night stand.

Sitting up beside him in your own bed, with your sheets disheveled and his gorgeous face looking up at you from a pile of pillows, you reach out to brush your thumb along his jaw and smile harder than you possibly ever have in your life. "Wherever that is? I hope it's someplace worth talking about."

Frankie smirks, sending you a playful wink. “You’re with a flyboy.” He quips. “Of course, wherever it is will be cloud nine.”

______

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