#the scene where he was sitting cross legged on the dirty floor is the most allegation feeding scene | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercurygguk · 4 years

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cockblocked. (m) | jjk

➵ summary; in which a pair of best friends are hopelessly in love with one another but they’re both too dumb to realize, even when everyone around them are dropping hints every five minutes. or alternatively; “you’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t love you back.”

pairing; jeongguk x f. reader

word count; 15.8k

rating; 18+

content; roommates au + friends (idiots) to lovers, smut/fluff/angst

warnings; mentions of alcohol, swearing, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, cum eating, oral sex (f. receiving), stupid jeongguk and stupid reader

a/n; i’ve been wanting to write a oneshot for so long with the ultimate boyfriend version of gguk, so i started writing with this gguk in mind. i hope you like it! ALSO, this is heavily unedited, so ignore any typos thx – enjoy!

find drabbles related to this fanfic through this tag !!

Music is blaring through the speakers, shaking your body as you stand against the wall, watching people get shitfaced and stick their tongues down each other’s throats. There’s an untouched drink in your hand. It’s lukewarm by now and definitely tasting way worse than when it was made. You hate yourself for always saying yes to joining your friends at this type of scene. Quite simply, you hate every single thing about parties at frat houses. The music is shit, it’s nothing compared to your own favorite chill playlist filled with ballads and old classics. The alcohol smells and tastes like crap, and it doesn’t get you nearly as drunk as it should. To top it all off, your friends had left you alone for two random guys, so in conclusion, this night could’ve been better but it could’ve been much worse as well you suppose. It’s not like you’ve done anything stupid, so really, what’s the problem?

It’s not even that late when you decide to make your way upstairs. There must be a quieter place in this huge house where you can sit in silence until you deem it acceptable to leave again. But as you push your way past couples practically having sex on the staircase, you realize that all rooms are most likely taken. Maybe you should just leave now? You chuckle at your own situation. You haven’t even been here for two hours and you’re already planning on going home again. You shake your head to yourself as you continue your walk upstairs. It won’t hurt to see if you just happen to be lucky enough to find an empty room in this gigantic house.

The first room you come across seems quiet as you press your ear against the door’s surface. You take the chance and grab the handle before pushing yourself inside. You stop in your tracks when one of the two in there turns to look at you, the other one sitting with their head down a bucket. You grimace as you back out of the room, closing the door behind you. The smell of puke haunts you as you move on to the next door.

“Last room better be empty,” you whisper to yourself after checking almost every single room upstairs. You push yourself inside without a single warning to those who may be on the other side of the door. The scene in front of you doesn’t surprise you at all as you stay in the doorway. The pair stops their actions upon your presence.

“I swear that’s the seventh person to barge in here!” The girl, who was being grinded on by the dude on top of her, whines. The guy turns his head to look at you, a glare evident even though it’s mostly dark in the room. “And suddenly I’m not in the mood anymore,” the girl groans as she pushes Mr. Fuckboy off her, “see you around, Jeon.”

You watch with an amused smirk as the girl yanks her shirt off the ground, slipping it on and pushing past you out of the room, her shoulder bumping against yours. You chuckle to yourself, wondering why some girls just had to be like that. The guy you now know as ‘Jeon’ gets up from the bed, turning to face you fully. He’s not wearing a shirt which allows you to see the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. His pants are unzipped and his belt is unbuckled, and yet he doesn’t seem fazed at all. You cock a brow at him as he finally notices and reaches down to zip his pants and buckle his belt.

“Thanks for cockblocking me by the way,” ‘Jeon’ shoots at you, making you scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

“Well, it’s not entirely my fault,” you defend yourself, gesturing to the door beside you, “you could’ve just locked the door.”

He chuckles at your defensive tone as he grabs his sweatshirt off the floor. He slips it over his head, messing his black, curly hair up even more than it was before. That girl must’ve had a good grip on it for it to look like such a mess in this very moment.

“Why are you even in here?” Jeon asks, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. It tames it a bit, you think to yourself as you watch it fall back onto his forehead and slightly into his eyes. Not bothering to answer his question, you decide on stepping further into the room, making your way to the balcony that happened to be in this exact room. Jeon watches you as you open the doors and head outside into the chilly night air. He follows behind, joining you on the balcony. Why he does so wonders the both of you. He leans on the railing beside you, looking at the side of your face. “Party not fun enough?”

You chuckle. “Just not my typical scene,” you tell him, glancing at him.

The stranger, who goes by ‘Jeon’ so far, is still looking at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What is your typical scene then?”

This dude’s sudden interest in you doesn’t go unnoticed by you, so you decide to finally look at him fully instead of the drunk people on the front lawn below you.

“Somewhere quieter, somewhere you’re actually able to talk to people,” you explain to him, “and if there’s food, even better!”

This makes him laugh lightly, a glint in his eyes that makes your stomach tingle in a funny way. “A foodie then?”

You nod, a wide smile on your face. “Huge foodie.”

“What’s your name?” He asks, seeming genuinely interested in knowing it. “I’m Jeongguk.”

“___,” you tell him, “it’s nice to meet you, Jeongguk.”

He grins, a bunny smile appearing and you can’t help but think about how ridiculously cute he actually is. And yet still a fuckboy, without a doubt.

“Nice to meet you too, ___.”

You both watch the drunk people below in silence. You wonder what he’s thinking about. Does he think the same about these people as you or is he usually one of them? Maybe he’s one of those people who attends every single frat party. But he doesn’t seem to be very drunk at the moment. You’re about to ask him when he turns to look at you, eyes slightly wide with a glint in them as if he just thought of something brilliant.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” He suddenly asks. You squint your eyes at him, wondering what place he possibly could be thinking about. “I know this great place that has really good frozen yoghurt.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, “you want frozen yoghurt at almost 1 am?”

He nods, a boyish smile on his face. “Yeah, why not? This party sucks aaaand you totally cockblocked me, so I see no reason to stay here anymore.”

Rolling your eyes, you chuckle at his attempt to make you feel guilty once again. “I stand my ground,” you snicker, “you could’ve just locked the door, dumbass.”

Jeongguk shrugs it off, a tiny smirk appearing on his lips. “So, is that a yes?”

You purse your lips, pretending to think about his question when in reality you had made up your mind the second he mentioned frozen yoghurt. Food is never questioned, you always say yes when your friends ask, and now also when Jeongguk asks. You nod, smiling widely.

“Yeah, frozen yoghurt sounds really good, actually.”

Jeongguk grins, grabs your hand before pulling you back inside and out of the room. A mild tingle erupts in your stomach as you look down at how tightly his hand is gripping yours. You shake the thoughts from your head as you follow behind, letting him guide you downstairs to where the party is still ongoing. He pushes his way through the crowd of people, glancing back at you once in a while to make sure you’re still with him. Were you really just about to leave this party, leave your friends behind to get frozen yoghurt with a complete stranger? Guess so. Were you starting to regret saying yes? Surprisingly, no.

As you ride with the bus to the downtown part of the city, you learn a few things about Jeongguk. He tells you that he’s majoring in photography and that his camera is his most prized possession, he tells you about how he’s a huge gym rat and that he’s basically living his life at the gym when he isn’t studying or running around with his camera. You learn that Jeongguk loves food more than anything and that he’s quite a chef himself (but you also learn that he isn’t one to brag, so you basically had to force it out of him). He also tried to assure you that he wasn’t a fuckboy, which you had claimed him to be when you interrupted him in that bedroom. You only laugh it off, patting him on the shoulder as if to tell him it’s okay, that you don’t judge him for whatever sex life he’s living.

You find yourself enjoying his company more than you had expected to, laughing more than you ever would’ve at the frat party. Even at some point throughout the bus ride, your one leg had somehow managed to rest over his thigh, his hand on it as if it’s the most normal position for the two of you. And there’s not a single moment of awkward silence during the entire trip to that frozen yoghurt place which Jeongguk had been gushing about since you got on the bus.

“Why is this place even open so late?” You ask as Jeongguk holds the door open for you. You walk inside the shop, him following right behind. Before Jeongguk can answer your question, you gasp loudly as you take in the size of the place Jeongguk brought you to. He chuckles from beside you, grabbing your hand once again to pull you to the yoghurt machines. Your mouth is agape in amazement as you grab a cup, starting to mix different flavours. “Jeongguk, there’s too many flavours! How am I supposed to make one without having to pay a shit ton of money?”

Jeongguk laughs, eyes scrunching together and pearly white teeth showing. “I guess that means we have to visit again soon?” He says, more like a question than a statement.

You nod excitingly, making him laugh once again.

Jeongguk ends up paying for yours even after you fight him on it, but he didn’t take no for an answer and left you to watch as he paid for both cups of yoghurt, yours ending up more expensive than you had intended.

“Thanks, that was really kind of you,” you softly tell him as he hands you your cup, playfully glaring at him as he does so. “It’s on me next time.”

He shrugs it off, smiling softly. “Don’t worry about it, ___.”

You seat yourselves inside a booth, eating your frozen yoghurt in comfortable silence. Jeongguk finishes it rather quickly causing you to widen your eyes at his empty cup. You’re about to tell him he’ll end up with a brain freeze but the said brain freeze beats you to it. You watch as Jeongguk brings a hand to his forehead, groaning in agony.

“Fuck,” he swears, “wasn’t thinking about this when I shoved that down.”

You laugh, grimacing yourself as he grimaces in pain. After a while, it stops and Jeongguk rubs his forehead with a sigh.

“You good?” You ask as you try to stifle another laugh. He nods, glaring at you and then the empty cup in front of him. Pushing it to the side, you chuckle. “It’s not the yoghurt’s fault, Jeongguk.”

He sighs deeply as he leans back in his seat, watching you as you finish yours. You glance at him occasionally, offering him a small smile once in a while as well. His eyes are captivating in a way, dark brown irises and long lashes. You can’t hold his stare for long without feeling like he’s seeing right through you and reading everything there’s going on inside your head. A tiny crush is starting to develop at the bottom of your stomach, but you try to ignore it, not wanting to go in that direction right now.

“You never told me about yourself,” he then says, catching your attention once again as he leans over the table. You look at him, confused. “It was just me talking about myself on the way here and we never got to talk about you.”

“Oh!” You exclaim, “well, there isn’t much to tell.”

Jeongguk scoffs with a chuckle. “Come on, there has to be something.”

You think for a bit, trying to think about what you can tell him that could possibly be interesting for Jeongguk to hear about. “But what do you wanna know?” You ask him, smiling.

“Mhm,” he hums, “well, first of all, what’s your major?”

“English,” you answer.

He nods at that. “Favorite color?”

“Yellow.”

“Favorite animal?”

Without thinking, you smile and answer: “Bunnies.”

You swear you see Jeongguk’s cheeks redden as the word leaves your mouth. You smile to yourself, resting your chin in your palm as you watch him, his cheeks flushed. He rubs his chin, searching for another question.

“Ah! Celebrity crush?”

“Gong Yoo,” you sigh, dreamy gaze with what you’d call a real-life ‘heart eyes’ emoji expression on your face. Across from you, Jeongguk is pretending to gag. You swat at him, giggling lightly. “Shut up! You’re just jealous.”

“Never,” he retorted quickly, making you smirk slightly. “Okay, last question.”

You wait, anticipating something but not sure what exactly.

“Can I have your number?”

There’s nothing to do to stop the blush that colors your cheeks as you nod, smiling at him for being so damn smooth. He hands you his phone with a small smile, you type his phone number in and hand him his phone back. Jeongguk laughs as he notices how you put your name in his phone; ‘cockblocker <3′

“I’m glad we did this,” he suddenly says, his expression a serious but soft one. You nod in agreement.

“Me too,” you tell him, meaning it. This night turned out way better than you had expected, and it was all because you happened to cockblock Jeon Jeongguk.

You run around your dorm room with a towel wrapped around your body, wet hair all over the place as you try to figure out where you left your phone. Your phone is currently ringing and you know without a doubt who it is, but you can’t answer him because you might have lost it in the pile of clothes on your bed and floor.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hiss to yourself repeatedly as you rummage through the clothes, the ringing of your phone becoming more persistent if that’s even possible. Then it stops ringing before you have the chance to locate it. You continue to look as you sigh, knowing it will most likely ring again in a few seconds. But it doesn’t. Instead there’s a knock on your door. You glance down at your body.

“Great, still naked,” you groan to yourself and move to the door, opening it and revealing your curly-haired best friend (who may you mention looks exceptionally good in his ripped blue jeans, black hoodie and white sneakers). He marches into your room before you even get to greet him. You close the door after him before turning to look at him. You grip the towel tightly, terrified it will fall if you let go. And cause a very awkward situation for you and Jeongguk.

“What’s taking you so long? We have to-” Jeongguk stops as he turns to face you, just now realising you’re only wrapped in a towel and not fully dressed at all. “Oh.”

Your lips turn into a straight line, nodding. “Yep.”

His cheeks turn a slight red color as he quickly turns back around, his back to you. “Sorry,” he then says. You laugh at his embarrassment, clearly not as fazed about this as him. And he’s supposed to be the girl magnet, you think to yourself.

“Calm down, Gguk. I decided to let you in even though I’m basically naked, so really, don’t worry about it.”

He glances at you over his shoulder, not even slightly discreet about the way he looks you up and down. You feel your cheeks slightly heat up, noticing the way his eyes linger on your hand which is still clutching the towel tightly. It has been almost 9 months since you met Jeongguk at the frat party and there has been a slight tension of something you can’t quite decipher ever since. There have been more than several moments like these where Jeongguk is staring at you a bit too long or his touch lingers on you for a while longer than they probably were supposed to. You always shrug it off, not thinking too much of it because it’s probably all in your head anyway.

Jeongguk sits himself down on your bed, gesturing to the bathroom. “Well, get dressed already. Jimin’s performance is in like 30 minutes.”

“Right!” You shriek, now remembering what the purpose of your shower was.

Jimin is Jeongguk’s best friend from high school and is a year ahead of you and Jeongguk at the same college. Jimin is a dance major, doing all kinds of dances varying from hiphop to contemporary and so on. He’s truly talented and even more of a sweetheart. You met him one night a few months back when you joined Jeongguk and his group of friends at a karaoke bar. You hit it off with Jimin in particular that night, and your friendship has only been getting better ever since.

Jeongguk watches with a lopsided smile as you scurry back to the bathroom to dry your hair. You haven’t even decided on an outfit yet. “What do I even wear?”

On your bed, Jeongguk is looking through your clothes. He holds up a red skirt without thinking, just simply liking the color of it.. “What about this?” He calls out to you, having no idea at all what you could possibly wear to go see a dance performance. You open the bathroom door slightly to look at him and the piece of clothing in his hand.

“A flaming red miniskirt?” You question, raising a single eyebrow at him. He catches your tone and drops it to the floor, looking for something else.

He tries again as he holds up a pair of light denim jeans with a cute, hesitating smile on his face. “Jeans?”

You grin, nodding, “much better.”

The place is crowded once you and Jeongguk arrive at the theatre where Jimin is going to perform. You look around, trying to see if you can spot Jimin. You want to wish him good luck before he gets on stage. Just as you locate him, he looks up and locks eyes with you. You wave excitingly, grabbing Jeongguk’s arm and pulling him towards his own best friend. Jeongguk lets you drag him along with a small smile on his lips.

“Hey, you guys made it!” Jimin beamed, hugging you tightly. You smile as Jimin gives you a light squeeze before pulling away.

Jeongguk grins at his best friend. “We wouldn’t miss it, hyung.”

Jimin pats Jeongguk on the shoulder in an appreciative manner. “Well, take a seat. The show is starting in 15 minutes or so,” he gestures to the seats, “I have to get backstage before the stylists have my ass for not being ready on time.”

You chuckle, not surprised that Jimin is one to always struggle with being on time. It has happened once or twice before.

“Good luck!” You make sure to tell him. Beside you, Jeongguk offers his hyung an encouraging smile and a thumbs up. Jimin gives your hand a squeeze before heading off to backstage. You both watch him run off, the stylist already smacking his arm as she tells him to sit down. You glance at Jeongguk who’s already laughing because of his best friend. “Where do you wanna sit?” You ask him.

He shrugs, “you decide, I’m happy anywhere.” You nod and purse your lips, looking over the theatre.

“Let’s just sit here,” you point to the seats right beside you. Jeongguk agrees, his hand coming up to rest against the small of your back as to tell you to sit first. Your skin tingles underneath your shirt at his touch, his hand strong but soft on you and lingering a tad bit longer than necessary. You sit down, Jeongguk plopping down beside you. His hand is resting on the armrest between the two of you and it takes all in you to not let your own rest on top of his.

To say your crush on Jeongguk had become less and less the past 9 months would be a total lie. If anything, it has only become worse and yet you can’t get yourself to tell him because you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same way. He’s still the ‘Jeon’ you met at the party almost a year ago, his fuckboy tendencies coming through once in a while and you’ve seen girls leave his room in the morning when you’d arrive at his place to hang out. And it hurt slightly every single time but you’ve never considered telling him why it hurts. He doesn’t even know it hurts you. But then again, here he is on a Saturday night, spending his evening with you to watch Jimin’s dance performance when in reality, he has seen Jimin perform multiple times. More times than he can count and it’s nothing new to him. He could be balls deep in some random girl right now and yet he’s here. With you. And his leg is brushing against yours, his shoulder is also touching you. It would be so easy to just tangle your fingers through his but your insecurities and doubt stop you from doing anymore. You sigh deeply, leaning back in your seat.

Jeongguk notices the heavy sigh you let out, looking at you with slight worry in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

You nod, offering him a soft smile. “Yeah, just a bit tired,” you answer him, a small yawn escaping your lips. It was partly true. You can tell he doesn’t quite believe you but decides against it, not wanting to push you into telling him.

Jimin’s performance starts right then. The lights dimmed down as he appears on stage along with a group of other people, his dance team that consists of other guys. Some of them are also Jeongguk’s friends; Taehyung and Hoseok. You watch with wide, exciting eyes, feeling very proud of Jimin for finally doing this performance when you know how much he has been working on it and how time consuming it has been for him. What you don’t notice throughout the entire performance is that Jeongguk is occasionally watching you instead of the performance, his heart beating just a tad bit faster whenever you almost catch him.

When Jimin finishes and bows to the crowd, you stand up for an applause, smiling widely as he thanks everyone by bowing one more time and then heading off stage.

Jeongguk taps your shoulder, motioning his head as if to tell you to leave. “Let’s go find him,” he says over the music that’s still playing. You nod, grabbing your things and following right behind. You squeal, happy and excited as you spot Jimin by the stage. He turns around just as you reach him, engulfing him in a tight hug. Jeongguk stands by behind you, watching you hug the living shit out of his best friend. It doesn’t feel right, he thinks to himself.

“You were amazing!” You cheered, squeezing him tightly as he did to you earlier. He laughs at your gushing excitement as you pull apart, thanking you and flashing you that charming smile of his.

Jimin glances at Jeongguk, smiling lips falling into a straight line. You don’t notice but Jeongguk is glaring at Jimin and Jimin knows exactly why. He scratches the back of his head, glancing back at his team before looking back at you and Jeongguk.

“We, um, we’re headed to a bar downtown. You guys wanna join?”

You look at Jeongguk briefly before smiling at Jimin, nodding, “sure.”

“Great! We’re leaving in a few, I just need to pack up my stuff,” Jimin grins and heads over to his team. You spot two people that you know — Hoseok and Taehyung. Taehyung caught your eye a lot during the performance, his mop of curly black hair stood out a lot and the way he was so into the performance and the mood of the songs. Truly mesmerising.

Jeongguk clears his throat beside you, letting you know that he’s still right beside you. Your cheeks heat up at the possible chance of being caught ogling a bit too long at Taehyung.

“Let’s go,” you pipe up, leaving Jeongguk’s side to go find Jimin again. The tension that’s starting to form is too intense for you right now. You feel Jeongguk’s eyes on you as you walk away and up to Jimin. Jeongguk’s heart drops a little when he can tell that you decide to walk with Jimin all the way to the bar downtown. He doesn’t get to stand there and grumble too long because Hoseok and Taehyung are quick to pull him along, dragging him in the same direction you and Jimin left in.

Your laughter sounds like a sweet melody to Jeongguk as he watches you from his seat at the bar, laughing at something Taehyung says to you. You’ve been sitting beside Taehyung for the past two hours, laughing and having a good time which is great but Jeongguk doesn’t like how close to you Taehyung is sitting and he certainly doesn’t like the way you have to touch Taehyung’s arm every time you laugh at something he says. Jeongguk takes a swig of his beer as Jimin plops down on the seat beside him. Jimin follows his line of sight, sighing deeply once he realizes what has caused him to become so quiet.

“Dude, you’re gonna burn holes in their skulls if you keep staring like that,” Jimin calls out, snapping Jeongguk out of his own thoughts.

Jeongguk sighs, taking his eyes off you and Taehyung. “Yeah,” he trails off.

Eyeing him carefully, Jimin places a hand on his shoulder. “If it’s that bad, why don’t you just go talk to her?” He suggests, the tone sounding hesitant.

Jeongguk glances at Jimin. “You know I can’t do that,” he grumbles, turning his back to you and Taehyung, facing the bar instead.

Jimin nods as he remembers why. “Sure, but can you explain it to me again? I still don’t see the point.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk runs a hand through his hair only for it to fall back into his eyes. He really needed a haircut soon, he thinks to himself.

“I can’t tell her how I feel because that’d ruin our friendship and I’d rather have her be my friend than nothing at all,” he explains to Jimin as if it’s obvious. And it was true. Jeongguk’s straight up terrified that you’ll find out how he really feels about you and then proceed to end your friendship. It’s a risk he isn’t willing to take, maybe someday but just not yet.

Jimin hums to himself. “What if she feels the same then?” Jeongguk stays silent. “Ever thought about that possibility?”

Shaking his head, he sighs, almost sounding like he has given up on you already. “Listen, I just know that she doesn’t. She wouldn’t be over there with Tae right now if that was the case- Ow! What the hell was that for?”

He rubs the back of his head, pouting lightly at his best friend. Jimin shakes his head. “You’re dumber than I thought,” he concludes before getting up from his seat and heading back to the table where the rest of his dance team is sitting.

Jeongguk slumps in his seat, dropping his head into his hand. Jimin is right; he really is dumb. But as he glances back at you and sees the wide smile on your face, the same smile he can get out of you with his stupid jokes and goofy faces, he just knows that he wouldn’t be able to live without you even if it meant he got to tell you how he really feels. Jeongguk turns his back to the scene that is you and Taehyung again, finishing his bottle of beer before ordering a new one.

It isn’t even him who walks you home to your dorm that night. Taehyung gets the chance and swoops right in, offering to walk you home. You let him without hesitation and Jeongguk can only stand back, watching you walk off with Taehyung by your side. And it doesn’t go unnoticed, neither by him or Jimin, that you also forgot to hug your best friend goodnight. Jimin offers Jeongguk an apologetic smile, patting his shoulder and wishing him a good night before heading home with Hoseok, who’s also his roommate besides being his teammate.

Jeongguk is pretty sure everyone who passes by him on his way home can hear the sound of his heart breaking a bit more for every step he takes. But what does it matter? You don’t want this broken heart anyway.

“I’m thinking about moving out of the frat house.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and you choke on the coffee Jeongguk had just served you, coughing lightly and holding a “one second” hand up to Jeongguk who looks at you worried. Once your coughing dies down, you look at him, still surprised.

“You what?”

Jeongguk chuckles in his seat across from you. “I don’t feel like staying at the frat house anymore,” he shrugs, “I earn enough from working here to find my own place.”

Jeongguk’s little part time job at the campus café actually does pay him a good amount of money, but you wouldn’t expect anything else since he’s here more than he’s in class. The hours he dedicates to this place also gives him the right to chill in a booth with you during his shift because the owner of the shop gives him that much freedom. He has her hooked around his little finger and she doesn’t even know it. You smile at the thought, knowing very well that every single woman — old and young — would let Jungkook do whatever he wants after being flashed that charming smile of his. You guess that’s just the way his charms work.

“What’s on your mind?” Jeongguk asks, tapping your forehead to get you back to earth.

Your cheeks turn pink, “sorry.”

Jeongguk smiles at you, eyes glinting like they always do behind that long hair. “Actually, I already found a place I would like to rent, it’s not far from campus and it’s the perfect size even though it’s a 3-bedroom apartment,” he tells you. You smile, happy for him.

“That’s great, Gguk!” You beamed. “I’m happy for you.”

He did say 3-bedroom apartment though. Does that mean he’ll get himself a roommate? Your head fills with possible options for a roommate for him. Jimin could be a good one, but he already lives off campus with Hoseok. Taehyung lives by himself in a studio apartment, so that wasn’t an option either. He could ask that other guy he sometimes hangs out with, that one from his photography class and his frat house too. Namjoon, was it? You purse your lips, several faces showing up in your mind. Jeongguk clears his throat across from you, bringing you back once again.

“You’re zoning out a lot today,” he states, concern covering his face. You chuckle.

“I was just thinking about who you could ask to be your roommate,” you tell him and Jeongguk opens his mouth to speak up but you continue, “most of your friends already live off campus but you could ask that Namjoon fella, he still lives in the frat house, right?”

Jeongguk nods.

“He seems like a nice guy,” you ponder, finger tapping your chin. “You could just find some stranger too, but that’s quite a risk, isn’t it? Personally, I would prefer someone I know already, but you do you.”

You hear him sigh in defeat as you ramble on. “Or what about-”

Jeongguk cuts you off. “I already know who I’m gonna ask,” he blurts.

“Oh.” You fall silent.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk says, “she’s rambling her ass off right now and she does that a lot to be honest, so I don’t know if I still wanna ask her.”

Your cheeks are burning as Jeongguk smirks at you, knowing very well that you’re aware he’s talking about you. Composing yourself, you sit upright in your seat. “Well, what if she doesn’t wanna move out of her dorm?”

Jeongguk chuckles sarcastically. “Oh, but she does,” he snickered, “with the amount of times she has complained about the shitty shower in her room, I’m convinced she’s just waiting for the opportunity to get out of there.”

“Am not!” You defend yourself even though you know he’s right.

Jeongguk laughs. “Shut up.”

You cross your arms over your chest, pretending to be offended but you can’t hold the act for long as you burst into laughter. “Okay, you’re right. I really do hate that shower.”

“Thought so,” Jeongguk smirks lightly. He stands from his seat, knowing he has to get back to work before the customers think he’s some lazy barista. He offers you another one of those charming smiles of his. “You’re my best friend, ___. I can’t imagine anyone else in that room other than you. So just think about it, yeah?”

You nod, smiling. You watch him walk off, heading for the cashier. He moves around the counter, patting the other cute barista boy (he’s a sophomore and he basically idolizes Jeongguk) on the shoulder as he passes by him and continues out to the back of the café. You turn back to your laptop and books, smiling to yourself as you take another sip of your coffee, made (with a tiny amount of love, but you don’t know that) by Jeongguk.

You don’t get too much time to yourself and your assignment before a certain dancer slips into the seat Jeongguk was in previously. You glance up at Jimin, who’s smiling slyly at you. You give him a confused but curious look, closing your laptop screen. “What?”

He nods his head in Jeongguk’s direction. “Did he ask you?”

“Asked me what?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.”

You shrug. “He did,” you squint at him as he cheers, clapping his hands.

“Well,” he gushes, “did you say yes?” His excitement is bouncing off the walls as he leans over the table. You’re close to getting a whiplash from his quickly changing expression as you watch his face fall not even two seconds later. “Did you say no? Why?”

You shake your head, not able to keep up with him. “Calm down, will you? I didn’t even get to answer you.”

Jimin breathes out and slumps back in his seat. “Sorry,” he pouts but grins nevertheless, “I’m just excited.”

“You don’t say,” you mumble under your breath. “I didn’t give him an answer yet, he told me to think about it.”

Across from you, Jimin smiles at you - his smile hinting at something. You let out a small groan. “Jimin! I know what you’re thinking and no, I’m not gonna do it.”

“What?” Jimin exclaims, hands up in surrender. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

Now it’s your time to roll your eyes because yes, you do in fact know what he’s about to say. Jimin has been pestering you ever since he met you about the fact that you’re ‘pining’ after Jeongguk, your feelings on your sleeve and obvious to anyone around you, except for Jeongguk. The fact that you haven’t even told Jimin how you feel about Jeongguk just shows how well Jimin reads people and apparently you’re like an open book, especially to Jimin. Not to certain others.

“Have you ever thought about the possibility that he might like you too?” Jimin questions you, the same question he asked Jeongguk at the bar the other night. You nod your head at this, sighing deeply in exasperation.

“I have, Jimin, I really have,” you mumble, “but it’s obvious he doesn’t feel the same way. I can just tell that I’m nothing but a good friend to him.”

Jimin might scream at the both of you very soon. How blind and stupid can people actually be?

“If you say so,” he backtracks. You lean back in your seat, pen coming up to lay between your teeth. You bite on it as you stare at nothing in particular, Jeongguk is filling up your brain like he lives there rent free. “Look, ___,” Jimin catches your attention again, “accept his offer, maybe you’ll be surprised.”

He gives you a friendly, comforting smile and a squeeze of your hand before he gets up. He waves at Jeongguk who stands behind the counter again before leaving the café. His words linger around you. “Maybe you’ll be surprised.” Jimin had said and you wonder why he would say that. You know Jeongguk quite well even after less than a year as friends; what could possibly surprise you at this point?

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to live in the same place as Jeongguk. This thought has appeared in your head for the past hours since you left the café. Now you’re sitting here, in your bed with a Netflix show, which you’re not paying attention to, running through several episodes. Jeongguk’s proposition has been raking up your mind since he left you to yourself at the café. It’s like he knew you would have to think about it when he told you to do exactly that.

And as you sit here, thoughts running at full speed, you try to come up with pros and cons for living under the same roof as your bff #1. Pros are that you get a nice shower every time you have to bath, you will live off Jeongguk’s delicious gastronomic talent and you’ll have your best friend close to you at all times. Cons would be the possibility of getting tired of each other even though you already spend five out of seven days together during the week. Another con would be witnessing girls leave his room and your apartment in the morning after having heard her scream his name all night. That specific thought makes a weird, not-so-great feeling appear in your stomach, making you frown deeply. But you will have to realize sooner or later that Jeongguk won’t ever see you that way and that this crush of yours is a lost cause. Maybe it really is time to just get over it. You sigh deeply, grabbing your phone off the nightstand to send Jeongguk a text.

you [11:38 pm]: i’ll do it, but you gotta make me delicious food every day

You wait for his reply, staring at your screen. Heart hammers wildly as three dots appear on the screen. Your breath hitches in your throat as you read his reply.

gguk [11:40 pm]: anything for you princess ;)

Jeongguk has never in these months of you knowing him, called you a nickname like that. And the way your cheeks blush as you imagine him saying it, tells on you. You love it.

Jeongguk groans as he puts down your last box on the floor of your new bedroom. It’s a box with all your English books and there’s a lot. “Have you even read all of these?”

You stop in your little project of hanging up all your precious polaroid pictures, turning to look at him. You scoff, lying as you say: “yes, of course.”

He smirks lightly, giving you a look that says ‘nice try’. You laugh to yourself, turning back around to your polaroids.

Jeongguk plops down on your bed, head laying on his hands as he brings them up behind his head. Today is a day for the books, you thought to yourself when he first arrived along with Jimin to get all your boxes and shove them into Jimin’s tiny car. He’s wearing blue jeans again, which you absolutely love on him, and he has styled them simply with a black t-shirt, showing off his tattooed right arm. You’ve been staring at him quite a few times since you arrived at the apartment you and Jeongguk have rented together. And it wasn’t helping how his arms kept flexing as he carried your boxes with all your shit up to your new bedroom.

He watches you in silence as you hang up the polaroids, standing with one in particular a bit longer. You smile as you reach down, showing it to him. “It’s us,” you smile softly.

Jeongguk takes the polaroid from your fingers, holding it closer to his face to see it better. It’s a polaroid photo taken at the Han River from that one night where you went out to eat dinner with his friends and some of your girlfriends. You had brought your polaroid camera along, hoping to catch some memories with it tonight. Jeongguk had noticed it that evening, grabbing it from your purse and snapping a ‘selfie’ of the two of you.

He smiles at the photo, remembering that evening as clear as if it was yesterday. That evening was one of the first times Jeongguk realized that he was indeed absolutely smitten by you and that you had him wrapped around your finger. You just didn’t know and you still don’t. “That was a great night,” he reminisces, handing you the photo back. You hang it up on the wall, right in the middle of all the others.

“Yeah,” you sigh deeply, “it was.”

Jeongguk claps his hands on his thighs as he sits up on the edge of your bed. You plop down beside him. “Pizza for dinner?” He suggests.

You nod frantically, “yes, please.”

And that’s how you and Jeongguk end up on the couch, watching that stupid movie with Gong Yoo. You’re completely sucked into that movie, mouth open in awe as you watch Gong Yoo unfolding his charms on the tv-screen. “Wow,” you breathe out as he kisses the main female character. Jeongguk scoffs from beside you, rolling his eyes before dropping his head backwards. The ceiling is more interesting than that ridiculous movie.

“Why is everyone so obsessed with this guy?” he asks, looking back at the screen again.

You shoot him a glare. “Are you sure you're not jealous?”

Jeongguk gasps dramatically, pretending to be offended by your words as he places a hand over his heart. “Am not!”

“Am too!” You laugh, scooting closer to him on the couch. “Admit it, you don’t like Gong Yoo because he’s getting a lot more attention than you.”

Scoffing again, Jeongguk knows that’s a lie and suddenly feeling like he needs to prove a point. He has girls waiting for him, not that you don’t know that. He smirks at you and says: “You know that’s a big fat lie, ___.”

You cock a brow at him. “You’re so full of yourself,” you scoff and get off the couch, taking the pizza boxes with you to clean up, “and you’re jealous, it’s obvious.”

Jeongguk scoffs right back at you as he gets up to follow you into the kitchen. “I am not jealous of some actor,” he states, “I have no reason to be.” You sigh to yourself, your back facing him as he leans in the doorway to the kitchen. You know very well that he has no reason to be jealous of some actor and you certainly don’t need him to remind you. He watches you clean up with a frown. “___.”

“What, Gguk?” You laugh humorlessly, turning to face him. “I get it, you’re hot and a woman magnet and so on, you don’t have to explain it to me.”

He smirks lightly, pushing himself off the wall and stepping closer to you. “Who’s the jealous one now?” He chuckled, arms crossed over his chest as he towers over you. You groan and push at him, making him take a step back from you.

“You’re so annoying,” you grumbled, moving around him and out of the kitchen. Jeongguk watches you walk away towards your bedroom. “Goodnight, roomie,” you call out, waving a hand over your head without glancing back at him. There was a tone of sarcasm in your voice. The door to your bedroom being closed as Jeongguk sighs to himself, wandering his way to his own bedroom. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he’s asleep. The day must’ve been more tiring than he had thought. A nice memory of him and a pretty girl at the Han River fills up his mind as he dozes off into the night.

The next morning you’re sitting at the dining table, laptop and books out. Your reading glasses are resting on the bridge of your nose and your hair is in a messy bun, making you look relaxed as you study for whatever class you have coming up. Jeongguk strolls out of his bedroom, no shirt… only a pair of grey sweatpants. You glance at him as he passes by you, heading directly for the fridge. You can hear him rustle around for a bowl and a spoon. A minute later he joins you at the dining table, a bowl of fruit loops in front of him.

“Morning,” he says softly, voice still hoarse from waking up. Your stomach tingles at the sound and you mentally slap yourself for being such a wimp for him. You don’t give him a response, continuing to read in your book and type away on your laptop. You can feel him glancing at you occasionally as he eats his cereal. Jeongguk pouts lightly, sighing deeply as you don’t pay him any attention. This is not how he expected the first morning in the apartment to be like. He grumbles to himself for a bit, contemplating on what to say to fill out the silence that has overcome the two of you. An idea pops into his head.

“Hey, I was thinking,” he starts, making you look at him briefly. You focus back on your laptop. Jeongguk falls silent.

“I’m listening,” you tell him, voice soft. “I just gotta finish this, but I’m listening.”

Jeongguk nods, hands fumbling. Why was he suddenly so nervous around you? There is absolutely no reason to be. Was it the tone from last time in which you had told him goodnight and then left him to himself that had him so on edge? He can’t really tell.

“I was thinking that we could have a small get-together with our friends, like a moving-in party?” He suggests. This idea actually sounds interesting, you think to yourself as you look back at him. Jeongguk smiles softly, continuing: “We can just invite the guys I usually hang with and then you can invite Lisa and Jisoo?”

You nod, smiling. “That does sound fun,” you agree on his idea, “let’s do it.”

A grin appears on Jeongguk’s lips. “Tonight? If people are able to make it with such short notice?”

Again, you nod. “I’m sure they don’t have more important stuff to attend on this Saturday evening,” you chuckle, knowing your friends and the fact that they rarely have much to do except for school, work and hanging out with each other. Same goes for Jeongguk’s friends.

“You’re right,” Jeongguk laughs, feeling more at ease now that you’ve joked around with him a bit instead of just sitting there in silence and not really noticing him. It feels better when you laugh, joke around and talk like you usually do without the annoyed and slightly jealous tone. “I’ll text around, asking them to come over tonight.”

You nod lightly, watching him get up from his seat and bringing his cereal bowl to the kitchen. “Remember to tell them to bring their own alcohol! We have nothing in this house yet,” you call out, chuckling slightly. You really didn’t. You almost didn’t have any food either. Maybe today calls for a shopping trip to the supermarket. You turn back to your laptop, eager to finish the assignment and then getting to the supermarket to buy snacks and some food for your empty kitchen cupboards. Maybe Jeongguk can join you on the trip there.

“You think this is enough?” Jeongguk wonders out loud as he places the bowls of snacks down on the coffee table. You join him a few seconds later, a bunch of glasses in your arms for the beverage. Jeongguk notices you joggling all those glasses, rushing to your side with wide eyes to take some from you.

“Thanks,” you softly say, letting him take most of the glasses and placing them down on the table as well. He smiles sweetly in return. “I think it’s enough, we have a few extra chips bags in the cupboard.”

“Perfect,” Jeongguk grins, clapping his hands and rubbing them together in excitement. “This is gonna be fun, I didn’t expect everyone to say yes but they’re literally all coming here in like ten minutes.”

You chuckle softly, making Jeongguk’s stomach do small backflips. He ignores them as he plops down on the couch. “I’m excited,” you sigh, plopping down beside him.

Jeongguk nods, smiling still. “Me too,” he murmurs.

You and Jeongguk fall into small-talk as you wait for your guests to arrive. A bit more than ten minutes pass and the first guest knocks on the door. Jeongguk gets up to let them in, not getting to say much before he’s engulfed in a tight hug by Hoseok. “Hey man,” Hoseok grins, squeezing Jeongguk tightly. He pats him on the back before letting go and walking further inside. Jimin and Taehyung follow right behind, both giving Jeongguk one of those guy hugs.

You lock eyes with Taehyung, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. He lets go of Jeongguk to make his way to you, smiling widely. He looks really good, you think to yourself as he stops in front of you. His dark hair was curlier and more unruly than the last time you saw him which was only a few days ago. His smile was wide and bright as always, and his eyes a warm, dark brown. “Hey,” he greets you, smiling.

“Hi,” you reply, leaning closer to give him a hug. Jeongguk is closing the door behind Jimin as he glances your way and notices how Taehyung is already at your side, hugging you. He feels himself become slightly frustrated but Jimin is quick to push a hand against his chest, stopping him from walking over to you and make himself look stupid.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head at Jeongguk, eyeing him down until Jeongguk looks slightly less like he could punch Taehyung in the face right now. His jealousy is starting to get the best of him. He watches you, noticing how you smile that specific smile whenever you get flustered or complimented. Jimin glances in the direction of you and Taehyung, sighing as he looks back at Jeongguk. “You don’t get to be like this, Gguk. Not when you haven’t done anything to get her yourself.”

Jeongguk breathes out deeply, taking his eyes away from the relationship that’s starting to unfold in front of his eyes. Jimin is right, once again. He has no right to get all worked up and angry at the thought of you with Taehyung. At least Taehyung has the balls to actually flirt with you. Jeongguk feels like it backfires every time he tries to. Maybe it just isn’t meant to be you and him. With one glance at you and Taehyung, he joins Jimin in the kitchen to get himself a beer.

The night goes on, the rest of your friends arriving not long after Taehyung, Hoseok and Jimin. Lisa and Jisoo sit with you at the dining table, having fun as all of you laugh loudly at whatever you’re talking about. Jeongguk has been watching you tonight more than he’d like to admit, almost being caught a few times. But he was quick enough to look away before you could lock eyes with him. He hasn’t spoken much to you since your friends had arrived which made his heart fall a bit further into his stomach.

You glance in his direction, smiling softly. Jeongguk smiles back at you, deciding to get up and talk to you for the first time in hours. Grabbing his beer off the table, he’s about to get up and make his way to you, but he quickly stops in his tracks. Taehyung appears out of nowhere, standing close to you. His hands are resting on your shoulders as you look up at him. He smiles and says something Jeongguk can’t make out. You get up from your seat, letting Taehyung take your hand in his and guide you to the small balcony that is in you and Jeongguk’s apartment.

Jeongguk doesn’t notice Lisa and Jisoo looking at him, sad smiles on their faces as his face drops and he heads for the kitchen instead, walking past them. You nor Jeongguk knows that the two girls are secretly rooting for the two of you to finally get out of your heads and actually date. It has been too long of this pining after one another, but you’re both in denial no matter how much either Lisa, Jisoo, Jimin or whoever it is, tells you to confess to each other. Lisa gets up from her seat, letting Jisoo know she’ll be right back.

Lisa sighs deeply at the sight when she enters the kitchen. Jeongguk is hunched over the kitchen counter, head in his hands. She walks up to him, leaning against the counter beside him. Jeongguk senses her presence, grumbling lightly. “What?”

She scoffs, throwing a slap to his back causing him to stand up and face her. He glares at her, but he doesn’t say anything as he leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He’s frowning deeply, looking at the floor. “What’s going on with you?” Lisa asks, even though she knows what’s up. Jeongguk glances quickly at her before diverting his gaze back to the floor.

“Nothing,” he shrugs.

Lisa scoffs again, not believing any of his bullshit. “Bullshit, Jeon. I know this is about ___.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at the mention of your name. He’s about to have had enough of talking about you and his feelings for you. Jeongguk is quite literally wearing his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see and yet you’re the only one who doesn’t notice. “I just needed a moment to myself,” he mumbles, sighing deeply before taking a swig of his 4th or 5th beer of tonight.

Lisa nods, “I get that. I mean, she did go with Tae just as you were about to approach her.”

“Yup,” Jeongguk pops the ‘p’, another sip of his beer down his throat. “She’s with Tae, probably already head over heels for him.”

The annoyance in his tone and the slight disgust makes Lisa sigh. “Listen, Jeongguk, you’re doing nothing. You walk around, hang out with her and now you live with her and she still doesn’t know. ___ is blind as hell and she won’t know about your feelings if you don’t acknowledge them yourself.”

“I know,” Jeongguk groans, “but I just don’t- I don’t think she’ll ever see me like I see her.”

Lisa pats his shoulder, giving him a smile that probably is supposed to comfort him but it only makes him feel like she’s pitying him. “Just think about telling her how you feel instead of getting hurt every time someone else does what you could be doing.”

And with that, she leaves him alone in the kitchen again. Staying in his place for a few minutes, he contemplates going out to the balcony and demanding to talk to you, even if it means he has to interrupt your conversation with Taehyung. He empties his beer, leaving it behind as he makes his way to the balcony. He opens the door slightly, slipping outside to see you there with your hand in Taehyung’s. His face drops a little along with his heart. He covers it well with a small smile, his heart hammering hard inside his chest still.

“Hey Tae,” he says, “can I steal ___ for a bit?”

Taehyung nods at his younger friend, looking back at you. “So Friday then?” Taehyung smiles at you.

Friday? What happens Friday?

Jeongguk looks at you, awaiting your answer like Taehyung. “Yep,” you nod, smiling softly back at the curly-haired man in front of you.

“Awesome, it’s a date then,” he grins and lets go of your hand, heading back inside. Jeongguk moves to the side, letting Taehyung through the door. You glance at your roommate slash best friend, watching him as he moves closer. Silence overcomes you for the second time today and Jeongguk finds it unbearable. There’s usually never silence between you or around you, only when you have study dates and even then you always end up chatting instead of actually studying.

Jeongguk clears his throat to break the silence. “So a date, huh?”

You look at him, a small hesitant smile on your lips but it looks closer to being a frown than an actual smile. “Yeah,” you trail off, finger fumbling as you lean over the balcony fence. Jeongguk’s hands are in his pockets but he feels them itching, dying to grab your fumbling ones.

“He’s a great guy,” Jeongguk suddenly blurts. You look at him confused. “Taehyung, I mean.”

You nod slowly, wondering where this conversation is going.

“But he loves girls, ___,” he rambles on, “you know, like, he has a hard time focusing on just one.”

Your face becomes hard, slightly offended on Taehyung’s behalf as the words leave Jeongguk’s mouth. “Oh, so he’s like you?”

Jeongguk falls silent at your words and it feels like a low blow. He sighs and frowns, looking away from you, staring at the almost empty street below. You can’t help but feel slightly guilty from saying that but it’s not a lie. Jeongguk has a booty call or two during the week, always having someone to contact whenever he needs his dick wet. But you still feel bad for firing off such a harsh comment.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, softly touching his bicep before heading back inside, leaving Jeongguk alone on the balcony.

You’re right, he thinks, but it’s only you who actually matters to him.

Two months have passed since your moving-in party, and things have been a bit tense around the apartment ever since. Taehyung has visited the apartment more often than any of your shared friends, but not for Jeongguk’s company. No, yours. And even though Jeongguk really has no say in your relationship with Taehyung, he still can’t help himself as he finds it ridiculous. He can tell you’re not as much in it as Taehyung is and it’s quite painful to watch. Why you’re not as into it as him is still a mystery to Jeongguk.

Today is no different as Jeongguk sits on the couch, watching his favorite cartoon when the doorbell rings. He groans lowly as he gets up from the couch to open the door. Taehyung appears in front of him, his big and unruly curly hair taking all the attention. Dude should get a haircut, Jeongguk thinks to himself as he leaves the door open for Taehyung to enter.

“Hey man,” Taehyung greets Jeongguk, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Is ___ home?”

Jeongguk cocks a single eyebrow. Shouldn’t he have checked that before coming here. “She’s in the shower,” he tells Taehyung, plopping back down on the couch. Taehyung nods, thanking him quietly before heading for your bedroom. Jeongguk watches him, grumbling under his breath because he’s starting to get tired of seeing Taehyung’s face that often during the week. He sighs to himself, trying to focus on his cartoon show instead of the sounds of you giggling inside your room.

Long hours pass before Jeongguk hears Taehyung leaving, the clock striking eleven in the evening before he’s out of you and Jeongguk’s apartment. He did leave quite in a rush though, making Jeongguk curious. He leaves his laptop on as he gets up from his bed to go to your bedroom. He knocks on your slightly opened door, peeking inside. You’re nowhere to be seen making him frown and furrow his eyebrows. He hears shuffling in the kitchen as he moves to the living room. When he reaches the doorway to the kitchen, he leans against it. You’re moving around, rummaging through the cupboards for something, dressed in pajamas shorts and an oversized t-shirt, one that looks awfully a lot like one of his.

“What are you looking for?” Jeongguk calls out, making you jump in surprise. You hold a hand to your chest as you turn to look at him, eyes wide. Jeongguk smirks lightly at your shocked expression, noticing the light blush that appears on your cheeks.

You turn your back to him to continue to look through the cupboards. “Just some snacks, I’m craving some right now,” you tell your best friend who you have no idea is just behind you. You freeze in your actions as Jeongguk reaches up to grab his usual snack off the top shelf. He hands it to you, smiling softly. You squint at him, wondering why he’s giving you his favorite snacks and the last pack at that.

As if he can read your mind: “You can have them if you want.”

Smiling, you open the pack and pop one into your mouth, the crispy consistency making you sigh in content. Jeongguk laughs at your happy expression, knowing the way to your heart is usually through food.

You grab another piece, holding it up to Jeongguk’s lips. He glances at it before opening his mouth and letting you feed him. His eyes are on yours the entire time as his lips brush your fingertips. Your heart leaps, making you pull your fingers back quickly. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice as he smiles, chewing the snack with the same happy expression you sported just moments ago.

“Let’s talk,” you suddenly blurt out, Jeongguk looking confused which causes you to explain further. “We haven’t like talked talked in a long time, so uh yeah, let’s talk?”

Your declaration has turned into a hesitant question as you wait, needing some kind of response.

“Sure,” he shrugs, smiling again. As he turns on his heel, you smile back and follow him into the living room. You plop down beside him on the couch, unintentionally letting your legs rest against his thigh as you pull them up under you. He glances at your bare legs for a second before diverting his eyes to you. “So what do you wanna talk about?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, life?”

Jeongguk chuckles, “life?”

You nod enthusiastically, smiling at him, “yes, life.”

He purses his lips, wondering if there’s anything to tell. You basically know most things already and not much has happened the past weeks except for the fact that his little ‘I’m in love with my best friend’ hasn’t resolved at all, and that he’s still hopelessly in love with you even though you have a boyfriend now. Which still seems surreal to him because it’s one of his friends whom he usually likes but not right now because well, yeah, he’s dating you. But there’s no way he’s actually going to tell you all of that.

“I don’t have anything to say,” he decides on saying, pouting playfully. You chuckle at his facial expression. He smiles at you, eyes going soft because you’re sitting so close to him for the first time in a long time and he feels relaxed. More relaxed than he has been for a while.

“Nothing much for me either,” you sigh, moving the pack of snacks closer to Jeongguk so he can eat some. “Tae asked me to come home with him for the fall break, he wants me to meet his parents.” You leave out the part where you broke up with Taehyung.

Jeongguk’s movements come to a halt, one banana crisp inches away from entering his mouth. “Really?”

You nod. Jeongguk notices how your tone was slightly hesitating and off as you told him about Taehyung’s request.

“Isn’t it a bit…” he trails off, not knowing which words to use without sounding like an asshole. You watch him as he searches for the words.

“A bit what, Gguk?” You press.

He sighs. “A bit over the top, maybe?”

You scoff lightly, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

Jeongguk panics as you move a bit away, your legs no longer touching his. You give him a look that tells him to explain what he means. He sits up, elbows resting on his knees. “Listen, I just think it’s a bit unnecessary since it’s obvious that this relationship isn’t as important to you than it is to Tae.”

“You don’t know that,” you tell him, voice stern. Jeongguk is right, but you’re not gonna tell him that. He hasn’t been talking much to you for the past months hence he has no idea what he’s talking about because you haven’t told him anything about your now ended relationship with Taehyung. Call you bitter, you don’t care. Your best friend hasn’t shown any interest in your life whatsoever for two months now and yes, you’re blaming him for the tension there is in this home.

Jeongguk lets out a small groan in frustration, “but I do, ___! I do know,” he insisted, turning to fully face you, “I can tell because you’re not looking at him the way he looks at you, you’re not fully there every time he’s kissing you goodbye by the door before he leaves. I’ve witnessed it enough to know that you don’t feel the same as he does.”

You’re silent as he talks, listening to everything he says but still holding onto the bitterness that you have for him in regards to his little to no interest in you for two whole months.

“Don’t you dare deny it, ____,” he snapped, “I know you and you don’t love him.”

Punch him. You want to punch him for knowing you so damn well and for seeing right through you. And you want to punch him for being so dumb and blind that he still hasn’t figured out why you’re not in love with Taehyung. How can he not see that he’s the one you love? You’ve been wearing your heart on your sleeve for the entire summer and more, slowly falling in love with him ever since that night he brought you to the frozen yoghurt shop downtown.

“You’re right. I don’t love him,” you mumble under your breath. Jeongguk glances at you, eyes still filled with a small amount of frustration and anger, all directed at you and only you. “But you have no right to tell me this when you haven’t been interested in me and my life for two fucking months, Jeongguk!”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion, his heart slowly starting to beat faster because why are you fighting? What the hell just happened? “Wha-”

You get up from your seat, moving further away from him and Jeongguk feels like you’re slipping right through his fingertips even though he hasn’t ever been the one to hold you. But he should have, he should’ve been the one to hold you from the start.

“You don’t get to do this, not now when we haven’t really spoken to each other for so long,” you jabbed, “it’s my fault too, but I don’t come at you for having several girls over, do I?”

Jeongguk sighs, running his hands over his face in aggravation. “___, you’re overreacting. I wasn’t trying to tell you anything, I was just-”

“No, Jeongguk. No,” you shake your head, sneering at him. “I don’t need you to tell me or suggest anything, I don’t need your input and I don’t need you to make a decision!”

Jeongguk gets up, moving towards you, face twisting in anger. “Tell me, ___. What is he to you, huh? What is he?”

You glare at him, eyes hard on like his own and you don’t falter one moment. This anger and frustration has been a long time coming now, from both of you. “You’ve said he’s your boyfriend, but what is he really? Is he a fuckbuddy? Is he just someone to get yourself off with, huh?”

“No, Jeongguk, fuck you!” You shout, defending whatever it is that you have with Taehyung. “He’s good company, and no, I don’t see him like he sees me. He’s nothing more than good company but I actually like being around him unlike someone else I know!”

Jeongguk chuckles flatly, no humor behind it as he steps back from you. Hurt flashes across his face as he gets what you just said. “I see how it is,” he nods, giving you one last hurt look before retreating to his room. You stand back, hand coming up to cover your mouth as a cry rakes through your body. You didn’t know you had been holding back tears, the emotions you have for Jeongguk being poured out in the form of heavy tears in the middle of your living room. You’re frozen in your spot, sobs shaking you as you hold yourself. The sound of Jeongguk slamming his hand against the wall makes you move out of your frozen spot. You quickly make your way to your own bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

You slide under the covers, head feeling heavy as you let the tears fall. You didn’t intend to hurt Jeongguk the way you did, but you practically just shouted at him that you don’t like being around him, that his company isn’t good. It must’ve hurt him more than what you or he, himself, expected it to. You feel bad as you let your duvet engulf you whole, the taste of regret on your tongue as you keep repeating your own words in your head.

“He’s nothing more than good company but I actually like being around him unlike someone else I know!”

How could you even say that when Jeongguk hasn’t been anything but great company for you? He has been even more than that, he has been a friend you needed more than you ever knew, a person so supportive and loving that you always felt like you had someone to come to whenever times were rough. And in the midst of all this, you managed to fall for him as well. He didn’t do much to make it happen, he was just himself from the very beginning of your friendship and you’ve seen sides to him not many people have witnessed and you know the real Jeon Jeongguk. The Jeongguk who loves his camera more than anything, the Jeongguk who loves food and snacks and banana milk as if he was five years old again. The Jeongguk who’s such a softie, when you first get to know him like you do, that half of it would be more than enough. The Jeongguk who loves with his entire being, always putting his loved ones before himself – including you.

You sigh deeply, hating yourself for shouting such inaccurate words at him. You had to make it up to him, apologize to him for being so inconsiderate when all he did was trying to make you realize that the relationship you have with Taehyung is a waste of time. Jeongguk is right, you know he is. You don’t love Taehyung and you know you never will. The feelings just aren’t there, they’re elsewhere with someone who’s been worthy of them since what feels like forever.

Sleep doesn't overcome you as you stay in bed, staring at the ceiling. You’ve been tossing and turning for the past few hours, trying your very hardest to fall asleep ever since the fight you had with Jeongguk.You glance at the clock on your nightstand that’s reading 3 am — you have a morning lecture to attend in 6 hours. You let out a heavy sigh. Eyebrows furrowed together in frustration and your lips in a pout because why the fuck are you not able to sleep? Your eyes feel heavy from crying, but your best friend is taking up all your thoughts and the feelings you have for him are almost bursting out of your chest.

You groan to yourself as you roll over, pulling the duvet over your head. Closing your eyes, you try again for the umpteenth time. “I just wanna sleep,” you whine to yourself, but it’s no help. You give up on sleep.

You’re only half aware of what’s happening as you get out of bed and leave your bedroom, heading for Jeongguk’s bedroom. You stop in your tracks in front of his door. Maybe he’s also up, you think to yourself as you reach for the doorknob, turning it lightly. Peeking inside his dark room, you notice him fast asleep in his bed. You softly smile through the evident feeling of regret which is still heavy in your stomach. Without further thinking, you slip inside his room and close the door. You tiptoe over to his bed, glancing over him once again.

He looks peaceful, eyes shut and eyelashes touching the top of his cheek. Yet there’s a crease on his forehead and a slight frown upon his lips. The corner of your lips turn into a frown, copying his features unintentionally. Your eyes rake over the rest of his body. The duvet is only halfway covering him, from the waist and down. his naked chest is rising and falling as he breathes deeply. A soft tingle runs through your stomach as you carefully crawl onto his bed. You lift the duvet and slip under, sliding closer to him. He stirs in his sleep, turning over onto his side. you glance up at his face, noticing his eyes slightly open. You can barely see him in the darkness, but you can feel him looking at you.

“Hey,” he whispers into the darkness.

You smile, a sad smile, but he can’t see it. “Hi.”

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, voice soft yet hoarse. He moves a bit, trying to lay comfortably while creating more space for you. He’s careful not to touch you.

You shake your head at his question. “Not really,” you mumble.

You scoot closer, hand reaching out to touch his that is lying between the two of you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper softly into the night. Jeongguk turns his hand, letting you intertwine your fingers with his.

“For what?” He mutters quietly.

You breathe out shakily as Jeongguk is now the one to move closer to you. You let out a sigh, relaxing as his forehead rests against yours, his breathing clashing with your own.

“For the things I said, for shouting at you, for insulting you,” you explain, voice still soft and low as if someone outside would be able to hear you. “I didn’t mean any of it, I just-”

You stop yourself, hesitating. Should you just tell him? Tell him why you don’t love Taehyung when you have plenty of reasons to do so? Jeongguk senses the inner battle you’re having with yourself, his hand squeezing yours to let you know that you can tell him whatever it is that you have on your mind, reassuring you that he’s listening. “I don’t love Taehyung,” you sigh, “I broke up with him tonight… And there’s a pretty good reason for this.”

Jeongguk nods, humming in response because he already knows, it just took him insanely long to realize. Your thundering heart and shaky breath gave you away the moment he moved closer to you. Jeongguk is daring as he leans even closer, breath hitting your lips. You gasp lightly at the feeling of his lips ghosting yours, the skin of them softer than anything. His hand lets go of yours only to snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your hand touches his bare chest, the almost new and fresh tattoo he got two weeks ago feeling rough yet soft under your touch. He’s holding you so close that you’re unconsciously holding your breath.

“I was so scared,” you whisper against his lips, hand moving up from his chest to the back of his neck. Your fingertips brush against his hair, his long and slightly curled hair soft like you had always imagined it to be. “Scared you wouldn’t say it back.”

The tension in the room is almost unbearable but in a good way. This is months of feelings, tension and longing all coming together and clashing right here in this moment. You feel breathless, like you can’t breathe but at the same time, you’re perfectly fine.

“Say what back, ___?”

His hand runs along your hip and to your thigh, hooking around it and bringing it around him to hug his waist. His crotch is almost touching yours and your breath hitches at the feeling. Jeongguk smirks to himself, knowing exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He loves taking your breath away like this, but he can think of another way, something he’s been dying to do for a long time.

“Tell me,” he demands softly yet strongly, making you gasp again.

“I love you, Jeongguk,” You breathe out, feeling a weight coming off your chest, “I love you so much.”

Jeongguk’s heart skips a beat, a small smile appearing on his face as he cups your face, thumb running across your cheek. “You’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t love you back,” he whispers against your lips.

You whine at him for calling you an idiot and then you melt as he presses his lips against yours, soft and plump like pillows. Your hand tangles in his hair, fingers grabbing strands of curly, black hair as you let him kiss you until your breath is gone. It’s like you're sinking into him, fitting perfectly against his body. Goosebumps rise upon your skin as his hand wanders; over your bare legs to your waist and further across your chest and up to lightly wrap around the base of your throat. His tongue pokes at your lips, wanting to find yours. You part your lips, letting his tongue touch yours, the wetness and softness mixing well together as he pulls you even closer, a moan slipping out of you.

“Shit, ___,” he grunts against your lips as you press your core to his in eagerness, making him lose his mind, “please let me fuck you, let me love you so good, baby.”

You nod frantically, giving him full permission to do whatever he wants with you. A tiny squeal emits from your lips as he pushes you over, hovering over you and trapping you between his arms. He looks down at you, eyes soft and filled with want and lust. You smile up at him, hands running up and down the sides of his naked torso. You loved touching him like this, feeling his muscles tense under your touch and his soft skin that is filled with heavy tattoos, all of them having their own special meaning.

“I love you,” he whispers so softly you almost don’t hear it, eyes flickering between yours.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, cupping his face to pull him down to meet you for a kiss, a sloppy and wet kiss that makes your body tingle. You hum in satisfaction as he moves away from your lips, kissing his way down to your neck. He licks a stripe up your neck and to your ear, tongue flicking at your earlobe. He makes you shiver, his touch soft like a feather and yet rough enough to make you feel them more evidently than anything you’ve ever felt before.

As he works his way down with his lips, your hands are everywhere. On his shoulders, in his hair. You’re squirming under his touch, feeling impatient as he takes his time with you. It’s like he already knows every part of your body as he runs his hands down your sides and up under his T-shirt, that you’ve stolen at some point, pushing it up and revealing your breasts. He pulls the shirt all the way off, throwing it onto the floor without looking. His room is rather cold, making your nipples stiffen. He licks his lips, looking at your chest with hungry eyes. You gasp as he cups your breasts, thumbs running over each nipple. You bite your lip, holding yourself from moaning too loudly. You can’t hold it in as you watch him wrap his wetted lips around one of your hardened nubs, tongue lapping over it and flicking it.

“Holy sh- Jeongguk,” you moan, eyes closing as you arch your back in pure pleasure. He bites onto it causing you to twitch in his grasp. He smirks up at you as you glance down, watching him move to the other breast to give it the same amount of attention. He’s such a tease, you can barely comprehend it in your mind.

A small tiny moan emits from your lips as he moves further down, lips kissing the skin on your stomach, trailing around your navel and to the edge of your pajamas shorts. He glances up at you for permission which you grant him with a small nod, teeth biting onto your lower lip. He hooks his fingers under the waistband, pulling shorts and panties down your legs. They’re on the floor within a matter of seconds, out of the world and out of the mind of the both of you as Jeongguk focuses his attention on the wetness that has formed between your legs. His dick twitches in his boxers, the sight of you bare and naked in front of him messing with his head.

You whimper as he spreads your legs, revealing your wetness to the cold air of the room, making you shiver once again. He inhales as he lowers his face between your legs, quiet growl leaving his lips. “You smell so good, baby,” he rasps, hands running from your ankles to your thighs and squeezing the soft flesh there, making goosebumps appear on your skin. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

The feeling of his lips against you makes you jolt, your breath quickening as you feel him kissing against your folds. Jeongguk brings a hand up, the other hand gripping your thigh tightly to keep your legs spread for him. You moan lightly as he runs a finger down between your wet lips, loving every second of watching and hearing you squirm beneath his touch. You’re not prepared for the feeling when he spreads your folds with his fingers before diving in, licking up and flicking your already sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh my god,” you moan out, your hand digging into his hair as he licks and eats you out like a starved man. Your breathing picks up as he quickens the pace of his tongue, feeling yourself nearing your high. “D-don’t stop, Gguk.”

Jeongguk hums in response to your words, letting a finger slip between your folds and inside you. You gasp, leaning up onto your elbows to watch him. Your mouth hangs open, a fucked out expression on your face as he glances up at you, lips still tightly connected to your core. “Oh,” you hum, biting your bottom lip tightly, “oh, fuck.”

His mouth leaves your wet lips as another finger sinks into you, pumping in and out at a fast pace. He’s desperate to bring you to your orgasm, lips kissing all over your thighs and lower stomach. “Let go, baby, cum for me.”

Your arms give up, your head hitting the pillows as your first orgasm of the night comes at you with full force – Jeongguk’s goal is to make you cum at least three times tonight but you don’t know that. “Fuuuuck Jeongguk,” you moan, voice high pitched as you close your eyes. Your toes are curling, fist grabbing the sheet tightly as his fingers fucks you through your orgasm. As you come down from your high, Jeongguk removes his fingers from you, your release covering them as he holds them up. You watch him bring his fingers to his lips, licking your cum off them. You whine, sitting up to reach for him, desperate for more.

He chuckles with a smirk, letting you pull him closer by hooking a finger around the silver necklace around his neck. Your lips finally land against his again, a sigh emitting from you as you let him lead you back onto your back again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he positions himself between your legs, his cock twitching against your core. You can feel how hard he is through his boxers. Your tongue dances with his as you reach down, cupping him through the fabric of his underwear.

He grunts against your mouth, letting your lips go to rest his forehead against your collarbone. Your hand squeezes him causing him to whine lightly. “Baby, don’t do this to me,” he rasps, lips pressing tiny kisses against the skin on your throat. “Need to fuck you.”

You nod, running a hand through his hair and down his neck to his shoulder blade. Pushing at the waistband of his boxers, he gets the hint. He helps you push them down his legs, his cock springing free and slap against his abdomen. You let him do the rest himself. He kicks them off, leaving them to fall onto the floor, long forgotten. He reaches over to his bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a condom. You watch him rip it open with his teeth before reaching down to roll it onto his sensitive, throbbing dick. You kiss him once he returns back to hovering over you, tongue sloppily fighting against his. Pulling away, he trails kisses to just above your breasts and back up to your neck. His hands are everywhere on you, running over your nipples to your stomach and further down to brush against your still wet, pulsing core. “Still so wet for me, huh?” He hums against your neck, teeth lightly biting into your skin. “Only for me?”

You nod, breathing heavily, “only you, Gguk.”

You can feel his smirk against your neck, shivers running through you at the thought. He lines himself up, leaning up on his elbows to glance at your face. You lock eyes with him, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, eyes closing momentarily before he presses a kiss to your palm.

The moment his eyes open again, you gasp. They’re dark, filled with lust and desperation. You don’t get to say a thing before he pushes past your folds and inside, making you moan his name out loud in surprise and pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” you moan, grabbing onto his bicep tightly. He hisses at the mixed feeling of your nails digging into his skin and the sensation of finally getting to be balls deep in you after all these months. He bottoms out, head resting in the crook of your neck as he stays still for a moment.

“Oh god, you’re big,” you breathe out into the darkness, taking a few minutes to adjust to his size before you tell him to move. He chuckles against your neck, pressing a small kiss there before leaning up to support himself on his hands, looking down to see where you’re connected as one. “Gguk, please move.”

You’re in another world as he pulls out and pushes back in, the force already unlike anything you’ve ever tried before. How is he better and bigger than what you’d expected?

“Fuck,” he groans, “you’re so tight.”

Your moans become more high pitched for each thrust Jeongguk does, your stomach tightening in just the right way. He sets a steady rhythm, somehow managing to hit the perfect spot every single time. “I love you so much,” you gasp out as he grinds into you, bottoming out in you and filling you to the brim.

He moans at your words, a hand grabbing your leg and wrapping it tightly around his waist as he fucks you harder. “I love you too,” he breathes out against your lips before kissing you hard but sloppily.

Jeongguk man handles you halfway through, unwrapping your legs from his waist and bending them to press against your chest. This angle causes him to hit even deeper than before. “Jeongguk, please fuck me faster,” you whine, moaning. He bites into his bottom lip as he follows your command, setting a faster yet still hard pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits you deeper for every single thrust, his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks hard into you.

You’re seeing stars as you close your eyes and moaning out loud in pleasure, loving you better than anyone ever good, cherishing your body in every way he can as he brings you to another orgasm. White flashes for your eyes as it hits you, hands digging into his hair and pulling him in for another kiss. “Oh my god, fuck,” you whine against his lips, feeling yourself tighten around him.

This brings him to the edge, low grunts and groans leaving his lips in between sloppy kisses. His last thrusts become even harder as he hits his high, he stills as he cums into the condom. He’s breathing hard along with you, forehead resting on your chest.

“Holy fucking shit,” he sighs deeply as he pulls out before plopping down to lay beside you. He pulls the condom off and throws it into the bin close to his bed. “That was-”

“Amazing,” you breathe out, turning onto your side to look at him. He turns his head, smiling at you. “You’re amazing,” you tell him.

He grins, leaning up to press his mouth to yours in another sloppy yet soft kiss. You peck his lips one, two, three times before resting your head on his chest. Jeongguk wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. The duvet is pulled over the two of you as you’re slowly beginning to drift off to sleep. You don’t allow yourself to fall asleep before you’ve talked about this whole thing.

You rest your chin on his chest, locking eyes with him. His finger tips are running up and down your naked back, goosebumps rising once again.

“What now?” You question hesitantly, voice soft and careful.

Jeongguk shrugs, smiling softly at you. He brings a hand up to push strands of hair behind your ear. “It’s just you and me,” he softly says, running his thumb across your bottom lip. You kiss the pad of his thumb, making him smile even wider.

“Just you and me?” You repeat.

He nods, “you and me.”

You lean up, pressing a last kiss to his lips before resting your head against his chest once again, this time really falling asleep. Jeongguk lies awake for a bit, fingers still running up and down your spine. Your soft snores fill the quietness of his bedroom and it already feels like this is how it’s meant to be, finally.

The sun is forcing its way through the curtains in Jeongguk’s bedroom causing you to stir in your sleep. You stretch before rolling over onto your other side, coming to face a sleeping Jeongguk. You smile, feeling your chest fill with warmth and love as you watch him sleep with his mouth slightly parted and light snores leaving him as well.

You reach out, brushing his overgrown, curly hair out of his face. He stirs lightly, reaching up to wrap his hand around yours and intertwining your hands. He’s still sleepy as he opens his eyes, dark brown eyes meeting yours.

“Hey,” you whisper, shuffling closer so that you can press a soft peck to his lips.

He smiles, feeling his chest fill with warmth and the feeling of being content and happy in this exact moment.

It doesn’t even take five minutes before Jeongguk’s is more awake and has you pinned down beneath him. He leans down, lips ghosting yours as he rests himself between your legs. He’s still naked just like you.

“Wanna go again?” He whispers against your lips, pressing a soft kiss to them.

You chuckle, “wasn’t last night enough for you?”

He shakes his head, lips moving further down to your neck and biting into your skin, in the same spot as last night. “It will never be enough,” he hums into your skin. You can feel his dick twitch against your thigh causing wetness to quickly appear in between your legs.

Without another word, you reach down and line him up against your folds. “No condom?” He looks at you, confused.

You shake your head. “I’m on the pill and I’m clean,” you tell him, “aren’t you?”

Jeongguk looks at you in awe, nodding his head. “Of course, I am.”

He leans down, kissing you softly, tongue poking out to ask for allowance. You kiss him back, letting him in, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close. Jeongguk lines himself up again, hand wrapped around the base of his cock. You feel him poking at your folds, stomach tingling in excitement because there’s simply no cock better than Jeongguk’s.

“I love you,” he softly whispers.

You smile, “I love you too.”

Just as he’s about to push himself fully inside, the sound of the front door slamming shut stills him. Jimin’s voice sounds throughout the apartment: “Guys, get up! I’m inviting both of you out to eat breakfast, so you better be ready in five minutes!”

Jeongguk drops his head to your shoulder, a groan leaving his lips. “I can’t believe I get cockblocked again,” he grumbles against your skin, making you laugh out loudly.

taglist; @ggukkieland @koonanamilk @cloudreads-blog @bringitseijoh @lenisqueen @crazyboutjooni @sugaminh @cheerfulmultiez @jaykayseagull @shubhiixxx @luv-yourselff @97z-gcf @n4omiii @bangtaened-army @romeisourstoruin @imluckybitches

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realcube · 3 years

Text

TELLING THE BNHA BOYS YOU WANT TO SIT ON THEIR FACE | hcs + drabble

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to anon for this request <3

characters ♡ kaminari, bakugo, sero & tamaki

content warning ♡ sexual references, fem!reader, all aged up! - minors dni

denki kaminari

♡ it depends how confidently you say it

♡ if you’re clearly embarrassed, he’ll be too

♡ but if you own your statement, it’ll prompt him to be more self-assured and forward

♡ so he’ll either by completely red in the face and tell you to stop messing with him, or his lips will curl into a suggestive smirk as he encourages to act on your claim

♡ also if you’re not really the type of person who talks about sexual acts too often or casually, he’ll pop a hard-on

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

he was lazily sprawled out across the two-seated couch, his legs lay were you were going to sit and it took every bone in your body to resist the urge to just yank his legs away yourself, since you had been training all day so your legs were in agony, all you wanted to do was sit down and relax. but he prevented you from doing that, so you finally spoke up, “denki, could you move your legs, please?”

kaminari looked up from his phone to see you pouting, bags in hand as you waited for him to let you take a seat. he was feeling especially mischievous today so instead of just retracting his legs like he usually would, he shrugged and hummed, “eh, no. the floor looks comfy though. maybe try that.”

you scoffed, dropping your bags and hastily wrapping your hands around his ankles before aggressively tugging on them, “move it! you’re stupid fucking face looks comfy!”

he froze, staring at you with wide eyes but you continued to pull at his legs as you had yet to process what you just said as you meant in more as trash-talk rather in a sexual way.

suddenly, he flipped his position so he way now laying down on his back, his head resting on the seat you were trying to obtain as he stared up at you with starry eyes, “sit, then!”

katsuki bakugo

♡ goes red in embarrassment, anger and horny

♡ at first he yells about how immature you are but then his mindless threats begin to turn more..erotic?

♡ he’s like ‘fucking do it then! sit on my face! i fucking dare you! don’t be a pussy! do it!’

♡ and you kinda just stand there like ??? is he being serious ???

♡ he was being dead serious

♡ he can’t have anyone knowing that he wants you but he does want you so he shows it through anger and hopes that you are aroused rather than frightened

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you walked into the theatre by bakugo’s side, not as his date or anything - definitely not - but because he had ‘accidentally’ bought an extra ticket for a movie that you had been talking to your co-workers at the agency about and now that you thought about it, you recalled that bakugo was in ear-shot of the conversation while he was making his coffee in the lounge.

anyway, the movie had yet to begin but most who were seated remained silent as they watched the trailers. he glanced at you before shifting his gaze onto all the rows of seats in front of y’all, “where do ya want to sit?” he mumbled, casually popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

he simply asked just in case you had a preferred location or an eye-sight problem that he was unaware of so you almost made him choke on his corn when you replied with a click of your tongue, “your face.”

once he coughed up the kernel lodged in this esophagus, he turned to shoot you a deadly glare, “what the fuck?!”

afraid that you might have made him uncomfortable, you threw you hands up in defence and hastily tried to change the subject before he created a scene in the middle of the silent theatre, “sorry! i just meant it as a joke- erm, sitting at the back would be nic--”

before you could finish, bakugo grabbed you by the collar and dragged you out of the room, towards the cinema bathroom and..you know what happens next.

hanta sero

♡ probably incited you to say it lol

♡ he’s like ‘aight bet’

♡ you should know better than to try tease this man bc he is going to make you follow up

♡ not forcefully, but he becomes so racy that it’s hard for you to not just..take a seat :)

♡ he doesn’t get flustered bc he’s too cool for that (⌐■_■)

♡ also he’s horny asf all the time so even if he’s literally never talked to you before, he’ll immediately be escorting you to an area where y’all can be in private

♡ after he’s made you cum for like the fifth time he’ll be like ‘so what’s your name? :)’

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

friendly banter was something you should’ve learned to avoid. from when bakugo chased you around the school after you made a comment about deku being number one, to when iida gave you a 20 minute lecture when he heard you joke about skipping class - jesting with your friends never ended well for you so why did you think today was any exception?

though those things were in past, you had moved on; you had gotten a fresh new job at a new agency along with an old classmate of yours who you’ve since gotten closer to - pro-hero cellophane.

you were casually chatting to him in the break-room, making friendly conversation with him as you had deduced that your bad luck with banter was exact that, bad luck - hardly anything that can’t be avoided, or so you thought.

“exactly!” sero nodded, agreeing with the comment you made on internships, “my mentor kept making me go on these elaborate missions with them but seriously, i was just there to get a recommendation letter, save some people, have a hot hero-girl sit on my face then dip, y’know?”

you chuckled, prompting him to continue, “well, did it work?”

“i got my recommendation letter but unfortunately, no hot hero-girls sat on my face.” he explained, he taking a sip of his coffee before eyeing you, his frown slowly curling into a titillating smirk, “you could change that, though.”

your eyes widened, but you were somewhat mentally prepared for him to say that so you were quick to blurt out, “yes please.”

tamaki amajiki

♡ he doesn’t get what you mean at first-

♡ like he thought it was a threat..or maybe you were making fun of him

♡ you, mirio or nejire have to explain to him what it means

♡ then he passes away ⚰

♡ like mans is blushing so hard

♡ he can’t look you in the eye for 3 months after that

♡ it’s not that you made him uncomfortable or anything, he just gets like that around the subject of intercourse

♡ if he ever starts talking to you again, you know better than to ever make a dirty joke around him again

♡ but when y’all start dating - maybe a year into the relationship - he’ll randomly turn to you one day and be like ‘remember that joke you made over a year ago about sitting on my face? yeah, that one. do you think you could maybe like..do it? like right now, please? 👉👈’

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sat on the bed beside tamaki, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone as he played animal crossing next to you, on his switch. you were looking through pinterest for date ideas as your one year anniversary with tamaki was fast approaching and you wanted it to be special.

you opened a picture of a couple at the arcade, looking as though they were having a fun time so your natural instinct was to ask tamaki i he was down, “baby, what do you think about the arca--”

“(y/n).” he interjected with a shakily, “um, remember that time we partnered up for a chemistry project?”

you giggled, no clue as to where he was going with this but humming along, none the less, “yep, i do! that was a while ago though, tama.”

amajiki nodded, awkwardly averting his gaze, his cheeks visibly flushing red as he recalled the events that happened - he couldn’t believe he was bringing this up again, after he tried for so long suppress the memory. but currently, his need to hear your sweet moans overwhelmed his shyness, “do you remember the joke you made?”

you hummed in thought for a moment before it hit you. you peered at his with an eyebrow quirked, mentally questioning if you were remembering it correctly. “um, yes.”

“well, can you?”

“can i what?”

tamaki frowned, before leaning in and whispering his scandalous request - he didn’t want to say this aloud but desperate times call for desperate measures. “sit on my face.”

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sweetpxxches · 3 years

Text

I got time. [Hank x AFAB Reader]

Contains: Smut, fluff, mild blood stuffs.

The reader is AFAB but goes by gender neutral pronouns.

The first fic I post here and it’s just me being a simp for Hank as of late my lords above don’t look at me and my shame but enjoy it anyway LMAO

Somewhere, in Nevada, settles a group of mercenaries that managed to crawl their ways into a hideout where there was a scarce amount of grunts and guards that were on the hunt for them. You were there, laying flat on a worn down couch breathing lightly, though wincing through your teeth every once in a while as Sanford was bandaging a gashing wound on your back. You cursed under your breath unsure of how long the pain was going to last, the feeling of your skin burning was unbearable, but alas it finally was over when Sanford lightly patted your hip and getting off of you with a “You’re good to go,” and turning over to Deimos who was asking for a smoke. It’s been a rough week, with Hank going solo in most of his tasks there wasn’t a lot to hope for at the end of the day. But knowing him, he’s certainly doing just fine and if more, having the time of his life doing what he loves most. Sometimes you wonder if he even thinks about you. “Hey, Mercenary.” Deimos called out to you. You sat up grumbling, rubbing the now bandaged wound as you turned to gaze over Deimos, who was slumped by a window, legs spread apart on a chair puffing smoke out to the direction of the open window.

“Yeah?” Was all you could say. Deimos held his cigarette in his mouth, using his hands to gesture out the window. With that silent statement was all you needed to know that Hank’s finally made his way back to his crew. You sprung up only to pause midway from the stabbing pain you forgot existed, and held your side to keep going forward. “Settle down, hot shot. I’m sure Hank’s coming in on his own.” Deimos snickered, puffing the smoke through his mouth as he tips his hat over his eyes, leaning back to relax. You pouted at him, but your head jerked back when you heard the door open, Hank standing there to see his crewmates doing just fine. Immediately, you rushed over to hug the behemoth of a man who you could only level at his chest. Because of the tough muscle, it didn’t really make Hank budge much from you just practically attempting a tackle-hug on him. “Hey, you.” Hank simply stated, ruffling your hair as he closed the door behind him. “I haven’t heard from you in a while, but that’s what I’d expect since I’ve been fucked over a few times from those grunts.”

“Good to see you back, Hank.” Sanford welcomed, who was cleaning his hook by Deimos. “Anything new?” “Just a few files of past conversations between Sheriff, Jebus, and the Auditor.” Hank held up folders, tossing them over to Sanford as he slumped into the couch you sat on before, stretching back and leaning his head back. “I’m starting to wonder where these fuckers are making their planned dates these days, just seeing them talk all that talk and yet have their dogs do all the dirty work annoys me.” Sanford huffed, looking down at his weapon. “Yeah well, it keeps them busy being idiots while we find more about what’s going on behind the scenes with them. How’s the conditions with everyone?” Hank asked. “Deimos nearly lost a leg, but he’s recovering, Mercenary’s back got gashed but I handled the wound, nothing too extreme. I did fine so far.” Sanford replied, though Hank looked over to you. “Shit, you getting rusty with the whole ‘look behind’?” Hank teased, poking your head as you puffed your cheeks.

“Don’t start playing with me, it’s bad enough that I’m hurt as it already is.” You retorted, settling back down on the couch, cursing under your breath once more as you felt the stinging. Though you couldn’t help but personally scoff at Hank’s obvious worries being plastered as banter. He’s not really the type to show his worries over anyone, even to his closest comrades. Deimos hummed, looking over to Hank. “Hey, you think we can call this a small break for us all? I’m beat.” You sighed, nodding at his response. “Yeah, Deimos is right, I’m exhausted, and I ain’t going to run around with this back ache.” It wasn’t long until Hank lazily waved off of the statements. “Alright, alright, I’m sure we can call this a night for us all.” With that, the group sighed in relief. “Thank God, in that case I’m gonna go call it a night, I ain’t gonna miss this opportunity of sleep.” Deimos stated, hopping off his seat as he burned out his cigarette, flicking it off to the floor. Sanford watched him leave, and began to sit up himself. “I’ll be spectating the area, that way in case anyone gets too close I’ll take them down and give you guys the que.” He stretched, grabbing his hook and a rifle in both hands making his way out the door. Deimos went upstairs, and Sanford was outside. Which then left you and Hank.

It was kind of awkward at first, you weren’t sure what you wanted to say or even do, but Hank looked over to you. “What about you? You’re the one that’s been complaining all night.” He smirked, and you lightly shoved him. “Oh, shut up. I don’t have time for your uncalled for bullying.” You joked, but he seemed to be watching your every move. You weren’t so sure if this was just him taking the joke too seriously, or there’s something going on his mind. But he shrugged it off, leaning on the other side of the couch, hands behind his head. “You talk too much sometimes, you know that, right?” “Look who’s talking.” You crossed your arms, raising a brow. Where was he even going with this? You weren’t sure. Or were you overthinking things? Then again, just look how he’s behaving, it’s almost as if...

“Hey, eyes up here.” Hank tilted his head, raising a brow back at you. You snapped out of it, cheeks flushed. “Hey, shut up!” You didn’t even know what to say for yourself other than you may be looking at Hank a little more than you should. It was a moment of silence, you looking away and leaning on the other side of the couch, ignoring Hank’s curious gaze. His red tinted glasses shined, and he sat up. “Hey, you’ve been acting pretty weird as of late. What’s going on in your mind, Mercenary?” He asked. You turned your head to him, “Nothing! I’ve just been stressed and exhausted from all of this, don’t you know how tiring it is at times? Actually, don’t answer that. You’re never tired.” You then turned back, but Hank scoffed at you. “Someone’s feisty. Listen, I can get a good guess as to why you’re acting this way, and it’s because you missed me, wasn’t it?”

Oh, you hated how right he was. With a furrowed brow, you eyed at him, but not turning completely just yet. “What’s it to you?” You simply put, and he knew where this was going. “Listen Merc, I know you hate my guts whenever I turn away from you, but I promise ya it isn’t because I want to, it’s just I’m a busy guy.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, and your tension let loose immediately. “I know Hank, but it’s just it’s hard to do things without you.” You then turned completely to him, who was already close to your face, and that caught you by surprise. “What, can’t do things on your own, sweetheart?” Pet names. He’s giving you pet names now. May Jebus save your soul now. “It’s not that, it’s just...” “It’s just what?” He continued, fixing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You couldn’t even make eye contact to hose red tint shades. “It’s just... I miss you too much to last without you for that long, Hank.” You finally admitted, sighing in defeat. Hank lifted your chin, and tugged you close. “Babe, it’s okay. I promise you that’ll be the last time I keep you away.”

“For now, isn’t it?” You replied.

It was silence at first. “Yeah. But it’s the thought that counts, right?” Hank said, and you couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, even if it hurts to know he might do this again eventually. But that’s later, and this is now, and you can tell Hank is thinking the same way. It wasn’t until he tugged his bandana off his chin, revealing that grotesque zombie-looking metal jaw. But to you, you found that the best thing about him. “How about I’ll make it up tonight with something special?” Hank brushed his nose against yours, feeling your soft breath against his. “... But aren’t you going to be busy?”

“I got time. Take that armor off, Mercenary. I’m gonna make up those days I missed you.” Did he just admit he missed you just as much?

You couldn’t even process that, because Hank immediately filled the gap to give you a somewhat sloppy kiss, of course with him lacking lips, you couldn’t really make way with it, but that’s not what he had in store, it was that tongue he holds. You shuttered as you felt it glide across your lips, wanting to get into your mouth. You didn’t hesitate until you began unbuckling your hefty armor, letting Hank take over. You gasped as he slid his tongue passed your lips, his drool dripping onto your chest but you couldn’t care, the mess wasn’t gonna get any cleaner anyway. His massive figure mounted above you as you leaned back onto the couch, letting his large hands gently caress your sides as you wrapped your arms behind his neck. However, despite it, you flinched at the wound causing you pain, but Hank knew he had to be careful with it. He didn’t want you to hurt throughout, so he decided to keep his hands gentle on the grip of your sides.

His tongue reached every inch of your mouth, circling it with your own tongue as you grew desperate for him to touch you further. You held your head back as he began to bite down on your shoulder, hands beginning to venture more around your body.

“Hey, you won’t be getting just war scars now, huh?” Hank joked. “Just shut up and fuck me up, Hank.” You ordered. That hit a certain spot in Hank, making him want to do just exactly that. He didn’t hesitate any further, grabbing your bottoms with a swift tug down, letting you move your legs to take them off. He wasn’t the type to take off his own clothing, but when it comes to his partners, that’s a different story. He kept one hand on your hip as the other made way under your lower garments, large digits gently caressing your slit as he kept his head nestled between your neck and shoulder, enjoying your scent as well as your soft sounds. “Didn’t take long for you to get that wet, huh? Just how long have you been thinking about me? About this? You’re a wonder, Merc.” Hank teased, biting your ear as his two fingers spread your slit open, making you gasp as his middle finger lightly rubbed your clit. He wasn’t the most experienced, but when it comes to trying to find the right spot, he does it well. The feeling of your lower hips jolt as he kept a caringly pace with rubbing your clit had him wish he could devour you whole, but patience was what he needed.

Hank leaned back, moving himself down to position himself between your legs, your gaze almost begging for him to continue, and it wasn’t long until he took your beckoning as his long yet slender tongue made way to press against your cunt. You held your head back, keeping your volume low so you don’t get Deimos’s attention. But with the feeling of Hank’s wet tongue circle around your clit more efficiently than his fingers did, it was hard to keep it to yourself. It was a little bit of a hassle knowing there’s really nothing there you could get a hold of on his head, with a lack of hair and all, but there was an attempted to hold his head down, making him grunt as he knew what you’re asking for. His tongue slid down, pressing itself inside your cunt. The feeling of it made you quiver, Hank feeling your walls shutter from the tension his tongue was giving. This man was practically spoiling you, feeling your toes curl as you raised your hips at Hank, but he held you down so he can do most of the work. A fair share between you two, and you were already getting at your limits. Hank noticed your body shaking up, and he held back himself once more only to hear you whimper. Gods, he loved how sweet you could be. “Easy there, I’m not gonna leave you hanging.” Hank settled himself between your legs once more, this time he was unbuckling his belt and proceeding to unzip his pants. You bit your lip as you saw his large girth of a cock was pulled out, it was obvious he was growing impatient. He settled your legs around his hips, of course keeping mind about your wound. It was adorable how caring he can be with you.

He leaned over, his head pressing against yours as he began to position himself against your wet entrance, you didn’t even know what to say. Just seeing him above you, his muscular figure taking hold of you and taking what is yours his own, it drove you crazy. But he wasn’t being selfish with his affection, he knew he needed you just as much as you did. You held onto his shoulders, embracing it as his cock head pressed against your cunt, then slowly and surely, it broke way inside you. You winced, his hands on your hips to keep you put. “Are you doing alright there, Merc?” Hank whispered in your ear. You could only nod, and by god you didn’t want to speak any time soon. If you opened your mouth, you’d be gasping and moaning, and it’s already a chore keeping it down. Hank’s chuckle was heard, a low rumble in his chest as he began to move his hips slowly and carefully. You kissed his neck, feeling yourself stretch from his large girth, it was surprising you could of even managed to handle it this well. Hank could hear your small moans, and he hoped the volume will get louder, not caring if the other mercenaries could hear them. “Come on, Merc. I know you have a lot more in you, don’t have to be shy.” Hank cooed, his hands brushing up to give your breasts a soft squeeze, you looked away, trying to ignore him. But this just gave him a challenge.

“Merc, come on.” He spoke up, his hands now sliding under your shirt to fondle your breasts better, your cheeks flared up with a crimson red as he began to pick up the pace. The wet sounds of his body meeting against your own was growing loud, the sheer lewd sounds was driving you both wild. You couldn’t help but hold your head back, a moan escaping your lips. “That’s it, just like that. C’mon and do it louder.” Hank retorted, as his hands went back to your hips, moving your body against his, letting his whole shaft reach the ends of you. Your eyes widened, a loud squeak was heard out of you, and it made Hank laugh. “Good, that’s what I wanted.” Hank snarled, his pace now getting vigorous and desperate. He wasn’t slowing down for you, and you tried to grab his back, clawing at what you could. Now it’s finally reaching it’s point, you began moaning like no tomorrow, your volume was loud and you felt Hank became balls deep inside you, your walls tightening as he kept up the rough pace. “H-Hank, holy fuck Hank, calm down!” You plead, but he didn’t seem to hear you, the sound of the couch creaking as the hard wet slaps continued, you were seeing stars at this rate. But he wasn’t done, feeling himself get close, he placed one hand down to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to thrust. You groaned, feeling yourself beginning to come undone. “Cum for me, baby.” Hank requested, and you did what he told you to. Your body jolting as you reached a climax, but as you did so, Hank slammed himself deep inside you, releasing his thick warm ropes of cum inside you, the amount was overwhelming that it spilled out of you, your moans being muffled with Hank’s tongue making back way into your mouth.

It was a few moments, and Hank held his head and body to see his work. You were dazed, staring at the ceiling. “Seems like I overdid it, huh?” Hank asked, but you just weakly held up a thumbs up, simply saying “You did great.” As you grew limp, exhausted. Hank scoffed, slipping his cock out of you and watching the excess of cum leak out of you. As he pulled his cock in and zipped his pants, he scooped you up to take you upstairs. Settling your sleeping body on a bed, and he turned over to see a Deimos, disgruntled at them.

“Can’t you two be more fucking quiet next time?” Deimos stated, laying back down on his own bed. Hank could only chuckle at him. “Guess I’ll get louder next time just to spite your ass, Deimos.”

Meanwhile, Sanford outside could only be unsurprised at the fact you and Hank had fun while he was out drinking and keeping check of the area.

#hank x reader #Hank x you #hank wimbleton #fanfic #madness combat #smut #smut warning #Sanford #Deimos #thisis my first post and it's hank railing you #yeah that's how it be #JIURHGFIURHIUGR #hope u enjoyed!

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blonde-in-charge · 3 years

Text

Wildcard, Chapter Three

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Steve Rogers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve.

Characters: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Random Hydra guy, Sam Wilson

Warnings: Mentions of blood/violence, brief unwanted touching, Cursing, Fluffy!Bucky, Flirting

Words: 2.6k

The table underneath you was frozen from the amount of stress you had been under. They just kept injecting things into you, hoping to get some kind of reaction from your body. You had stopped feeling the pain of the needle and experiments weeks ago, which just made everything worse for you in the long run. They were getting annoyed with the fact you had stopped reacting to whatever painful serum they had injected you with that day and it resulted in beating to get a reaction from you. You stared up at the cracked ceiling of your concrete room and counted each crack for the millionth time. You kept yourself company in your mind, getting lost in your thoughts to pass the time until your next beating. You shivered at the cold beneath you, the last serum made ice bleed from every one of your pores. You heard the shrill sound of the old iron door open from the side of the room, you didnt turn your head to see whoever came in anymore, they were all the same type of evil.

“Your wounds have healed very quickly, you are replicating the progress of our last soldier.” said the thick voice. You hated to think someone else had gone through this hell before you had. You wondered if they escaped or died before they moved onto you.

You felt a burn in the back of your throat, “What's on the menu today doc? Electro-therapy? Waterboarding? New superhuman power that causes injury to one of your minions?” The one fond memory in your head of this place, being your body set itself on fire as well as one of the more hostile minions of Hydra. You smirked fondly at the memory as the hydra doctor worked his way around you observing the healing process. Every wound that opened on your body disappeared within a couple of hours, which is apparently what they wanted.

“Nothing on the menu today, we are going to start to prepare you for the memory wipe.” Was all the man said and you felt your heart jump into your throat as the man chuckled, “You will do great things for us, American Girl.” You started pulling at your restraints for the first time in weeks, trying to fight your way off of the table once again. The man gave you a sickening chuckle while watching you struggle and you glared at him. He reached up to run a dirty hand slowly up your leg, “Such a pretty girl, such a shame you must-” He ended his sentence abruptly as you lit your body on fire, burning the man's flesh. You grinned at him as your body started to fizzle out. He held his burnt hand to his body and looked at you with rage, “You stupid slut.”

You continued to grin as he left the room, feeling somewhat accomplished. Your smile slowly faded as you thought back on the memories they would take from you. Y/N Y/L/N, you were a successful accountant in one of the most successful banks in Manhattan. You lived alone, you haven't spoken to your family since you lost your father. Your mom became an alcoholic after his death, the only thing you really regretted was leaving your little sister, Macy, behind. Your job would have already replaced you by now, and people would have stopped looking for you. You stopped fighting for an escape because you knew you had nothing to go back to.

You woke up slowly to the sound of soft snoring, your body tensed up, wondering who was in your bed. Then you realized this wasn't your bed when you looked up into the face of the sleeping soldier. Your body instantly relaxed as you lay your head back on his chest. His right arm was slung over your waist and his metal arm was holding your forearm against his stomach gently. You closed your eyes, replaying the events of the night before in your head. Hydra had come back for you, but for what reason? Then your eyes snapped open and you looked up at Bucky gently shaking him. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down at you, obviously confused about why he was holding you. Realization dawned on him and his eyes filled with concern, “You okay?”

“Y/L/N.” Was all you said to him as you continued to stare into his steel eyes.

“Who is that?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I remembered my last name.” You said softly to him, “I remember my life before I was taken.”

He sat up quickly and looked into your eyes, “You remember now?” You nodded your head at him, unsure whether you should smile or cry. “Y/N, that's amazing.”

You looked away from him and sat back, “Is it?” you replied solemnly.

“Why wouldn't it be?” He tilted his head slightly, trying to read your thoughts. The sound of the door sliding open cut off your response as Steve came in. Steve stopped in the doorway and examined the scene in front of him. You were sitting to the side of Bucky, wearing his shirt with no pants on, with your legs strung across his thighs. Bucky had his metal hand resting against your calf and was leaning back against the headboard behind him. Bucky’s face turned a dark pink as he realized the situation before taking his hand off of your leg. You remained unphased as you looked over at Steve.

Steve watched you both and cleared his throat, “The safe house is all set up, can you both be ready by 0300?” You nodded at Steve, who glanced back at Bucky before leaving the room.

You both sat in silence for a moment before you crawled over bucky to the other side of the bed, his eyes perked up as he watched you unmoving, “Where are you going?”

“I have to pack my bag, don’t I?” You stood up and raised your arms above your head to stretch out your back.

Bucky started to climb out of the bed himself before he stood next to you, “I’ll go with you.” You laughed softly and chose to not object to his company. He followed you down the hallway to your room and you stopped in the doorway to survey the damage. Your bed hung off the side of the bed frame as if the mattress had been thrown. The drawers in your dresser were all thrown open and all of the clothes were spread around the room on the floor. You sighed quietly and started picking up articles of clothing. You searched around for the SHIELD duffle bag you had before shoving clothes into it. Bucky’s eyes raked across the room, he walked towards the bed and adjusted it to its correct position before picking up shirts and folding them neatly into the bed. You smiled slightly to yourself as you found a pair of leggings on the ground and started pulling them on and up over your thighs. You struggled slightly and then looked up to see Bucky staring at you.

He stilled, realizing he had been caught and looked down at the tee shirt in his hands, “Sorry, guess I got distracted.”

You laughed softly and patted him on the arm, “It's okay Buck, it's not like I don't stare at you sometimes.” You were unashamed of the confession. Sometimes while training you'll watch Bucky in the gym and sometimes, if you're lucky, you'll be able to see him lift his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. You would never apologize for that.

Bucky looked utterly confused as you packed the last of your things and zipped up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. He stood up with you and looked down at you. You weren't a short person, you were taller than most girls but still shorter than all of the male avengers so you barely had to crane your neck up at him. His steel blue eyes looked so much lighter in the moment. You turned away from him and started walking towards the door, looking back at him. “Ready?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, go meet with Steve, let me grab my bag.” You nodded at Bucky as you walked into the living area, ignoring the shattered glass on the floor you followed the voices to the kitchen.

“So she just hopped up on this man's shoulders and took him down like that?” Sam snapped his fingers together to get the point across, “Did Natatsha teach her that?”

Tony shook his head and bit the fingernail of his thumb, replaying the 30 second hallway footage from the night before, “Natasha hasn't moved past the basics of fighting with her, we have been focusing on figuring out what she can do power wise.” Steve stood silently with the three, his arms crossed watching the looped video.

Sam shook his head at the screen, “This chick is a total wildcard.”

You dropped your bag on the ground behind them making them all turn around quickly. You stared at the projection in front of you, you barely recognized yourself. You have never been able to put Sam on his ass in the ring and now you're swinging your body weight around on some random guy? The temperature dropped a couple of degrees in the room as a result of your anxiety. The three men stared at you as you took a step back, you made eye contact with Steve, “Y/L/N.”

Steve looked confused, “What? Who’s name is that?”

“Mine.” You said quietly, “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I had a dream about it. I know my name.”

You sat at the table along with Steve and Sam. You were staring off at a wall while shoveling cereal into your mouth. You had only been at the tower for about two weeks now and had a good routine with the two men in front of you. You still didn't have a name. You have been going by kid, kiddo, chick, and rescue. You have been searching your brain for a hint of what your name would be. You tried making up names but none of them suited you the way you wanted it to. You listened to the two men bicker over different work out strategies. You stared off at the wall and thought about how you planned on changing your hair color to maybe platinum blonde. You reached out to grab your glass off the table and grunted when it wouldn't budge. You looked up at the two men staring at you with wide eyes before following their gaze to your hand. The liquid in the glass was frozen solid and the glass stuck to the table in a block. You removed your hand and looked at your palm, which was tinted blue, “Well that's new.”

Sam tapped on your frozen glass, “Holy shit, Elsa.” You rolled your eyes and rubbed your hands together trying to maintain heat.

Steve watched you, “Has this ever happened before?”

You shook your head and reached out to grab your glass again. Your strength became too much and the frozen glass shattered in your hand. You remained still as Sam hopped up from the table.

“Jesus fucking christ, kid.” Sam started picking up the larger pieces of glass

“Language.” Steve went into the other room to retrieve a handheld vacuum

You looked down at your hand and saw little cuts leaking blood in the palm, today just wasn't your day. You stood up from the table and walked over to the sink, running your hand under the water. You were getting really sick of this superpower thing. You have broken so many things so far due to the super strength you can’t control. You sighed as you watched the small cuts on your hand knit themselves back together, you would never get used to that. On the brightside, it didn't hurt. You have not felt the pain of anything you have broken or ran into, the only pain you ever felt was the headache that never went away. You dried your hand off and ran your fingers through your hair.

“Sorry guys… Still getting used to,” You held up your hands, “this.”

Steve smiled knowingly, “It's okay, kid. I remember when I received my serum, it took a minute to adjust.”

You gave him a small smile, “Why do you guys keep calling me kid?”

Sam and Steve looked at each other. Sam was the one who spoke first, “You don't really have a name right now.”

“Oh it's Y/N.” You shrugged at the guys and returned to your seat at the table as they stared at you.

“Did that just come to you?” Steve asked while looking at your seated figure, “It kind of suits you.”

“I think it's my name? It just came to me at the sink and its the only name that doesnt make me want to kill myself.” You smiled as the two men started chuckling at you.

“I think I will stick to ridiculous nicknames if you don't mind.” Sam said, smiling at you and ruffling your hair.

Tony wasted no time typing your name into the database to pull up a missing persons profile. A photo was pulled up onto the hologram screen and you silently stared at it. It was you, well at least a version of you. You looked so young, your face was effortlessly smooth with a light layer of makeup, and your mouth was pulled in an easy grin. Your hair was pulled back in a sleek low ponytail and you were wearing a white collared shirt with a blazer layered over it. You started into your eyes on the projection, it felt like looking at someone else.

“You were an accountant? That's boring.” Sam started while eye the photo of you

Tony scanned the photo and then started typing something into the projection. An article pulled up next to the photo, “Y/N Y/L/N, missing for two years, stopped coming into work and her apartment was empty… blah blah blah.”

“Tony.” Steve warned, coming to put a hand on your shoulder. You looked back at him before shaking off his hand and picking up your bag.

“We should go, right?” You ignored the look Steve gave you before you walked to Bucky’s room, knocking on the mangled door

Bucky met you at the threshold of the door, sensing your discomfort, “You okay, doll?” He raised an eyebrow at you

You raised your own eyebrow, “Doll?” Heat rushed to Bucky's cheeks and you smirked at him, “Grab your bag Buck, it's time to go.” You winked at him and turned away to walk to the elevator door. You rested your nag on the ground as you waited for Steve and Bucky to join you. You leaned back against the wall and sighed loudly, your headache returning.

The two men walked together side by side to meet up with you. Steve pressed the elevator button and debriefed you both about the agents who would escort you to the safe house. You and Bucky both nodded in understanding before stepping onto the elevator. Steve made eye contact with you before the doors completely shut.

“Be safe, kiddo.” You smiled at his words as the doors shut completely.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel imagine

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littlesniggy · 3 years

Text

Princess Part Two

Part Two of the Kid x princess reader and well...I might’ve gotten carried away a little but oh well. Thanks to @pure-kirarin for requesting this! Btw, this plays either pre time skip or during the time skip since Kid still has both arms lol.

Part One is here!

Warning: 18+, smut, dirty talk, virgin reader

Word count: 4.4k

She was laying in her bed, her face still wet from crying the whole way back. Her clothes were dirty; she had slipped multiple times on and some scratches were visible on her arms and legs. She needed to cover them so no one would see them. Otherwise, they’d ask uncomfortable questions and she simply had no answer as to why she looked like this.

The sheets of her bed felt comforting and soothing but she couldn’t quite fall asleep; too many thoughts were running through her head and every single one revolved around Eustass Kid. To say her image of him and pirates in general had been shuttered was an understatement. Was he right? Had she been too influenced by all the stories she’s read? In them, pirates were criminals but in a charming way; they’d drink and have fun and play around with women but they never gave off that aura of danger. And still: some part in her wanted to know more about pirates, know more about their life, their ambitions, and motivation.

Kid said something about becoming the king of pirates; wasn’t this just a myth? Finding the One Piece? Gol D. Roger’s call to find it? She wasn’t sure but he seemed serious. And this part of him was the one that intrigued her the most. She closed her eyes and slowly but surely drifted off into a restless sleep, haunted by a certain bloodthirsty pirate captain.

It had been two nights since she encountered the Kid pirates and ever since she felt down and less ambitious. The prince, his father, and their entourage left yesterday. Finally, she had time for herself but it did her no good; her thoughts were still running wild, always returning to Eustass Kid. She even had a somewhat wet dream about him where she woke up breathing heavily and completely unsatisfied. She’s never been intimate before and her urge to be was rather non-existent – until now. Only the thought of him doing anything remotely sexual to her had little butterflies flying in her belly, making it incredibly difficult to focus.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of weapons clashing on weapons, loud yells calling to gather in front of the entrance and protect the king and the princess. She hurried to the big window and saw with horror how one guard after another got killed, their screams echoing through the night sky. She clasped her hands over her mouth but couldn’t move her eyes away from the horrid scene. The ones killing her people were none other than the Kid pirates. She saw weapons flying through the air and gathering around one person – Eustass Kid. All the weapons manifested into one huge weapon-arm he used to kill more of the guards.

She heard footsteps in front of her door and turned around, expecting pirates to storm in at any moment. But instead, two guards were rushing in, weapons ready to protect or fight. “Princess-sama! You need to get out of here! It’s too dangerous!” one yelled while the other one grabbed her arm and pulled her with him. “W-wait! What’s going on?” she demanded to know but followed the two guards down the stairs. “Pirates. They invaded the palace. Probably looking for treasure but we’re not sure. As long as they’re here you’re not safe, princess-sama.”

The stairs led down until they reached the dungeons where a safe-room was located. But they didn’t make it until there because in a flash the guard’s weapons were taken from them by what seemed like magic but when she turned around Captain Kid was standing there, a huge and sadistic grin in his face.

The guards positioned themselves in front of the princess but without any weapons they were defenseless. “Princess-sama! Please, keep going until you reach the safe-room! We will handle him!” the guard told him. The princess didn’t think twice before she turned around and ran through the long corridor. She didn’t make it far though because suddenly, she felt a hand grab her hair and yanking her back painfully.

“Just the princess I was looking for.” She heard a voice right next to her ear. “Let go” she screamed and tried to get free but his grip was like iron. “Stop struggling and be quiet. I only want your treasure, that’s all. If you’re a good little princess I’ll let you live.” He purred. “Y-you killed the guards! Why should I trust you?” tears were running down her face. This was definitely not how she had imagined their next meeting!

“Indeed, I have. But maybe I’ll make an exception for you? Can’t kill a princess now, can I?” it sounded sarcastic and she new he had no qualms killing her as well. “Now, tell me. Where do you hide your treasure? The sooner you tell me the sooner we’re on our marry way.” “How do I know you’re not lying?” “You just have to believe me.” He sounded amused at her question. “And by the way. Didn’t you say you wanted to join us? As a pirate you should be okay with robbing and killing people. That’s just part of a pirate’s life.” She pressed her lips together and felt stupid once again. Deep down, she had known this but she just didn’t want to accept it.

“So, tell me. Where is the treasure?” he repeated the question. “I-in the south tower, top floor, behind a huge door. Can’t miss it.” She pressed out and expected him to let her go. But Kid had other plans. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Let’s go.” And with a push she stumbled forward. He let go of her hair so technically she could run away but she knew he’d catch her. “Lead the way, princess.” He said while he followed her, his eyes running down her body while they were walking, appreciating the silky nightgown she was wearing which was running down her body like water.

The princess noticed but kept quiet about it. “W-where is my father?” she instead wanted to know. Kid shrugged, the grin still on his face. “Who knows.” He simply answered and she knew he wouldn’t tell her. Maybe he was already dead?

When they got to the entrance hall she heard yelling coming from all over the place but she couldn’t see her father. Kid pushed her forward with his hand, making her almost fall to the floor. “Keep moving, princess.” It sounded like an insult when he called her that but she wouldn’t complain. She heard him call some of his men who followed them up the stairs until they all reached the huge door guarding the treasure. The two guards were quickly disposed of and the princess couldn’t hold back a squeal.

Kid laughed at her reaction while the others opened the huge door, revealing lots and lots of gold, silver, jewels and precious gems. “That’s what I call a jackpot. Pack it up!” Kid ordered and shoved the princess with him to the side to not be in the way of his crew. Silently, they stood next to each other, Kid had his arms crossed in front of his chest, she looked down, fidgeting with her fingers. “Did we wake you?” Kid suddenly asked, his eyes still appreciating the treasure in the room. She stayed silent, not wanting to answer.

He turned his head towards her, his eyes wandering up and down once again. “You got a lot of those nightgowns, don’t you? You were wearing one two nights ago as well, weren’t you?” a blush creeped on her cheeks and she pulled her arms over her body to hide it from his few. “Don’t be shy! It looks good on you!” The red intensified even more and he could swear her head was about to pop like a tomato. “Show me your room.” He demanded. Shocked, she looked at him, eyes wide and mouth open. There it was again – the excited feeling in her stomach. Even though he had just killed more than a dozen if her men she still felt intrigued by him; his whole aura had her body drawn to him.

“C’mon. A little princess like you must have a huge room, right? Let me see it.” He insisted. There was no rational reason why she did it but she obliged. As if her body was out of rubber, she walked along corridors with doors to every side, legs daring to give in with every step. Kid walked behind her, she could feel his eyes on her body.

She stopped in front of the door, hesitant to turn the nob to open it. But Kid took over this part. His big hands grabbed the nob, turned it and opened the door. He pushed her inside and followed her right after. She heard him whistle but didn’t turn to look at him. Two clicks indicated he had closed and locked the door behind him. Now it was only the two of them, alone in her room, her only in her nightgown and underneath it only her panties.

“That’s a nice ass room. Being a princess has its perks, hasn’t it?” he passed her and took a look around her room. His eyes wandered over pictures showing her with her father, some friends and one with her mother when she was young. She expected him to ask about her but he didn’t. He simply didn’t care.

When he was done he walked towards her bed, sitting down in the mattress. His legs spread and his arms crossed in front of his chest. His grin was ever so present on his face and had her look away. “Why did you want to join us?” he asked out of nowhere. “I…I don’t know.” She answered truthfully, still not looking at him. “Bullshit! Did you think I didn’t notice your reaction? When I had my thumb buried in your mouth?” His grin grew even wider. “Did you hope for something more…filling?” he laughed at her shocked expression when she turned to look at him.

“Now is your chance, princess. I can almost smell your pussy from here and believe me she wants me.” He said cockily, way too full of himself. But he was right. Ever since he asked her to see her room she had thought about all the things they could do in there – and none of her thoughts were G-rated. “C’mere.” He demanded.

Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other and made her way over to where he was sitting. She stopped in front of him, her sight set on the floor. Even though she was standing was he almost as tall as her when he was sitting. “Have you ever knelt down in front of anyone else?” he asked. She shook her head no and received a dark chuckle. “Then it’s time you learn how to do it. Get on your knees, princess.” His tone was demanding and left no room for arguing.

With trembling limps, she got down, took her place between his legs. Pleased, he hummed. “That’s a nice sight, princess. You look good on your knees. As if you were made to kneel down.” “Stop saying that.” She whispered, completely embarrassed by his words. Kid laughed out loud at her wish. “But it’s the truth, princess. Now, get down to business.” He demanded but she didn’t follow his order. Kid raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you hear me? Go, suck my dick, princess.” He clarified but again she didn’t move. The princess bit her lower lip, seeming like she wanted to say something but too embarrassed to say it out loud. Kid grabbed her chin and made her look up at him. “What is it, princess? Spit it out or get going!” She averted her gaze but after receiving a slight slap to her cheek she answered.

“I….I have never been….intimate….with a man before.” She whispered, barely audible. The captain made a surprised sound but didn’t let go of her chin. “A virgin, huh? That’s rare. But I like it.” With his other hand he opened his pants, freeing his semi-erect member from its restraints. “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through everything.” His thumb circling his huge mushroom head. The princess took a quick glance at his dick before looking away, cheeks blushed once more.

“You can look. It gets him excited, y’know.” Kid purred. She hesitated for a moment but then looked back at his dick which twitched in response, slowly becoming harder and harder. “Good girl.” He praised. He let go of her chin and instead took one of her wrists between his fingers and guided her hand towards his member. Before she could touch it, she tried pulling back instinctively but his grip was too strong. “Don’t be shy. Touch him.” He encouraged her and simultaneously pulled her hand closer until he wrapped her hand around his dick, his hand covering hers.

She gasped at the touch. It felt warm and…weird, as if it was some kind of animal. But it made her pussy wet at the same time, making her rub her thighs together. “You like how it feels?” he started to move his hand around hers so she was stroking him. He pressed his hand down, showing her how he liked it. Her legs kept rubbing against each other and she didn’t know what to do about her growing wetness.

“Touch yourself, princess.” His demand came out of nowhere. “What?” she asked bus his grin told her she had heard him right. “I said: touch yourself. I can see you want to.” Her cheeks were burning and she couldn’t move. “Have you ever touched yourself?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you haven’t!”

“W-well….n-not really.” God! This must be his lucky day! Fist the treasure and now this!

“Then let me teach you how to do it….Follow my orders, princess.” Her eyes were uncertain but he knew she would obey his orders. She was way too curious.

“Are you wearing panties?” she nodded hesitantly. “Good.” His hand kept holding hers in place, still stroking him.

“Move your hand between your legs and rub your index and middle finger over your panties where your pussy is.” Her hand slowly moved down between her legs and she gasped when she touched herself. “Tell me, are you wet?” his grin was now predatory. He leaned down to be closer to her face. The princess nodded shyly. “Good. Now move your hands in your panties and feel your cunt. Tell me how it feels.” She followed this order as well and a small moan escaped her lips when she touched herself. “How does it feel?” he demanded to know.

“W-wet….hot.” he grunted at her words, closing his eyes for a moment. “Good girl. Do you feel the little nub?” her fingers glid over said nub and she jerked away a little. “Circle it with your finger.” A whimper escaped her lips and she had to close her eyes at the sensation. She felt how her juice coated her pussy even more, making small sounds while she moved her finger over her clit. Kid squeezed her hand slightly and gasped at the feeling. “Do you feel how you’re getting wetter? Does it feel good, princess?”

“Y-yes.” She moaned. Kid picked up the pace at his dick and her hand between her legs followed his pace.

“Do you think you’re wet enough now? Are you dripping?” his voice filled her head and she could only nod. “Push your finger inside.” The princess opened her eyes and looked at him, stopping for a moment. “B-but what if-“ but he cut her off. “Just do it, princess.” His harsh tone made her whimper and her pussy clenched around nothing. Slowly, she moved over her slit and inserted one finger, making a slightly uncomfortable sound. “Try rubbing your clit.” It was difficult and she had her hand at a slightly awkward angle but managed to circle her clit with her thumb. Her legs opened wider when she started moving her finger in and out, the feeling of herself around her finger was weird and exciting at the same time.

His hand picked up the pace around his shaft once more and her hand followed suit. “When you’re ready put another finger in. Spread them.” “Ah!” another small moan when she entered a second finger, scissoring them and also curling them inside of her, moving them in and out of her pussy. The moans came out more frequently now and she hand to rest her cheek against his thigh, watching their hands pump his dick with hooded eyes. It was so hot, she didn’t know where to put her lust. Kid grunted, his eyes never leaving her frame.

“Such a good, slutty princess. Following a pirate’s orders to please herself.” He praised, making her moan again. She started moving her hips up and down on her finger, her moans getting louder and louder. Kid laughed at her action, licking his lips at the sight. “That’s right, princess. Fuck yourself on your fingers. Ride them like it’s my dick.” Another moan. Her movements became frantic and he knew she was close. It was now or never. He let go of her hand and put his hand on the back of her head. “Open up!”

She had no time to think before he pushed his huge dick inside her mouth, almost choking her. Her eyes were wide open and she tried to get away but he wouldn’t let her. “Breath through your nose, princess. And don’t forget fucking yourself.” The problem was not her breathing – at least not her primary. Her gag-reflex had kicked in and it took all her will power not to puke. Kid started moving her head between his legs, low grunts rumbling thorough his body. “Fuck.” He grunted.

The princess listened to his grunts and it somehow got her distracted from the uncomfortable feeling on her tongue. She also started moving her fingers inside of her again, soon getting back the feeling inside or her that indicated her coming orgasm. She moaned around his dick, entering a third finger. His dick moved in and out of her mouth at the same pace, his mushroom head bumping against the backside of her throat; spit was dripping down her chin, his pre-cum salty on her tongue. With two more pushes of her fingers did she clench around herself, cumming hard and coating her fingers.

Kid stopped his movements a little bit unwillingly when she came but he watched her come down from her (probably) first orgasm. He removed his dick from her mouth and grabbed her chin once more, making her look up at him. “Show me your hand.” He whispered. With a small whimper she pulled out her fingers and slowly raised her hand with shaky limbs. Her fingers were coated in her juice and kid licked his lips, then grabbed her hand and closed his lips around her fingers, sucking on them. His tongue swirled around them, licking up every little bit of her cum.

She could only watch in amazement, brains till a little foggy from her high. When he was down, he let her fingers go with an audible plop. “Slutty princess, making such a mess while masturbating. Dirty, dirty little bitch.” His grin took in almost all of his face, that’s how satisfied he was with her job. But he wasn’t done yet…

“Get naked, princess. The main part is about to start.” He purred. “W-what? But I just…I just-“ “I’m gonna make you come again. You’ll like it since you’re such a little whore.” His words made her clench around nothing once more and she knew he would be true to his word. She got up, legs still shaky but she managed to stand in front of him. Her hands moved over her body, down to the hem of her nightgown and pulled it up over her head, exposing her breasts, the nipples hard from her arousal. Kid hummed in appreciation and couldn’t help himself but grab her tits in his hands and fondle them quite roughly.

“K-Kid…” she moaned and leaned into his touch. He leaned closer and took one of her nipples between his lips, sucking and biting at it. She threw her head back and had her eyes closed. “P-please….be gentle.” He looked up at her, licking her nipple before grinning again. “Can’t promise that.” He said and dedicated himself to her other nipple while his hand massaged her breast. His rough hands felt incredibly on her skin and the excited feeling between her legs came back.

The pirate noticed and looked down at her still clothed sex. “Take it off. I wanna see all of you, princess.” His voice was coarse from arousal and had her shiver in excitement. Her hands moved to her panties and pulled the, down, exposing her wet sex. Kid licked his lips at the sight and just had to take a lick by leaning forward. She moaned because of the sensitivity but jerked her hips forward, pressing herself closer to his mouth.

“So eager.” He murmured against her clit before teasing it with his tongue a little. The princess was afraid she might lose her balance and fall but Kid Kid wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her up, the other one grabbed the back of her knee and pulled it up to have better access. His mouth now savored her pussy, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh and having her moan above him.

“K-Kid! I-it’s too much!” she whined and moaned at the same time, not knowing if she liked it or hated it. Just in this moment a knock on the door could be heard. Kid grumbled in discontent. “What?” he barked. “When are you done, captain?” he heard Killer’s voice from the other side. “Fuck off. I’m in the middle of eating dessert!” her cheeks turned pink again but she couldn’t think straight when he sucked at her clit once more, making her moan.

They heard a Killer clear his throat on the other side and then his leaving footsteps.

“Naughty princess. Letting him hear you moan.” He teased. Kid pulled away from her sex and threw her on the mattress instead. She looked up at him, body heaving, legs slightly spread, exposing her wet pussy. “Such a nice view.” He complimented. The princess sucked on her lips, knowing what was about to happen. Should she really let a pirate take her virginity? She was promised to the prince, was engaged and about to get married. Should she throw this away? But Kid was already above her, his body like a blanket covering her own. He had lined himself up with her pussy, ready to push in.

“Take a deep breath, princess. This’s gonna hurt.” And with these words he pushed forward, sinking into her wet and hot pussy. A painful scream escaped her mouth and she clawed at his muscular arms, trying to find some support for her pain. But Kid showed no pity and pushed himself in completely. Her whole body was tense and she tried to push the foreign body away but the pirate was too strong. “Relax.” He huffed before he started to move inside of her.

“It hurts!” she pressed out, eyes shut tightly. “Stop whining. It’s gonna feel better soon!” Maybe. He thought to himself and grinned. Now was his turn.” His movements were sharp and hard, his dick moving in and out of her. It was a great feeling, especially since he knew he was the very first to thrust into her. Her face looked tense and he knew she was in pain. She was probably bleeding as well but why should he care? She had her orgasm and he wanted his. Well, maybe he could help her a little.

One of his hands moved down between their legs and started rubbing at her clit, making her jerk against his touch. “Good girl. Keep moving against me.” She whimpered, the pain slowly moved to the back of her mind thanks to his finger in her clit. She bucked her hips against his thrusts, making him grunt and curse with each thrust. He picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth at high speed, making it hard for her to keep up with his pace. She moaned, eyes closed and her arms were next to her head after she had let go of his arms. Her body was shuffled over the sheets, her body sweaty from all the feelings inside of her.

With each thrusts she got closer and closer to her next orgasm, her voice hoarse from moaning and screaming. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pushing him closer to her and pressing him deeper inside of her. With a last, loud scream she came around his dick, clenching around his thick meat and making him groan in pleasure.

Breathlessly, she laid underneath him, slowly getting her breath back under control. Kid had stopped moving; he looked down at her, had watched her face twitch in pleasure while she rode his dick through her orgasm. It was really hot; he wouldn’t lie but he wasn’t done yet.

“Little princess cumming around my dick like a whore. What an exciting sight. I like it. But I’m not finished yet. Let’s see if I can make you cum a third time. After all, three’s the lucky charm.”

_____________________________

Her whole body felt sore; her body was covered in dark bruises left by his mouth, her breasts and lower body was covered in his semen, dripping down onto the sheets. She felt used and dirty but at the same time completely satisfied.

Kid had left a while ago, the castle was silent. Before he left he had praised her for being such an obedient little princess who took in his dick so well. Alone remembering those words made her smile. She knew she would most likely never see him again but that was fine; after all, he taught her how to pleasure herself and that was enough. At least for now. Maybe she would teach her soon to be husband how to pleasure her.

#one piece #op #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #captain kid #captain kid x reader #kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #ns.fw #scenario #op scenario #requests

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koos-euphoria · 3 years

Text

ɢᴜɪʟᴛʏ | ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊɪɴʏᴏᴜɴɢ

jinyoung/reader | smut | 18+ | criminal!au | oneshot

requested: yes

wordcount: 1.8K

warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of death, manipulation, sex in the interrogation room, sub!Jinyoung, Dom!Fem reader, biting, scratching, marking, hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, reader lowkey being mean to jinyoung.

— summary: You get arrested for the murder of your husband. Jinyoung the best lawyer in the country gets given the job as your lawyer. However he falls for your innocent and charming act, having him right where you want. Might as well have fun, right?

note: I’ve never written something like this, so kinda nervous but enjoy!:)

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍ.ʟɪsᴛ | ɢᴏᴛ7 ᴍ.ʟɪsᴛ

Everybody knows you definitely are not as innocent as you claim to be; you murdered a man with your bare hands. Everyone who knows about the investigation and all the evidence that has been allowed to be released in the papers and the news, knew that. Jinyoung is assigned to the role to give you the best outcome that you can possibly get; which is for you to stay out of jail. Yet he is completely and utterly infatuated with you. He believes the ‘helpless little girl who’s innocent and was just protecting herself’ persona. You found It almost laughable, really, at how easy he was to manipulate him; so gullible and naive. You’re able to just give him a pretty smile with a bat of your long lashes to have him ready to run to hell and back for you. It’s quite endearing really, you think, especially when he was one of the best lawyers out there. You couldn’t of been more happier, having him sit prettily in the palm of your hand; excited to have your way with things, once again.

Sighing dreamily to himself, he enters the interrogation room finding you sitting in one of the chairs already, hands clasped together on top of the table, as you look up at him with wide innocent eyes, when he enters. Your eyes follow him, noting his every move, as he places himself in the seat in front of you. Crossing his leg over one another trying to get as comfortable as one could get In these god awful seats. His eyes look over you, quickly, taking your appearance in, lingering on your cleavage as your push-up bra makes your perky tits even more perkier. Forcing his eyes away, missing the small twitch of a smirk on your lips as you see the whole thing, he coughs.

“Good afternoon, y/n, how are you feeling today?” Jinyoung nervously asks, while politely smiling at you. Inside your head you couldn’t help but laugh at him, oh how sweet. On the outside however you give him a small sad smile, before looking down at your clasped hands, fingers playing with one another. “As good as I can be, sir.” You sigh, before flickering your eyes up to catch him once again looking at your cleavage, jumping when he hears you chuckle at him. “Something on my chest?” You ask moving to swipe at it, as if you were getting something off. All it does however is make Jinyoung look at your breasts once again, this time gulping as he watches them jiggle at the pressure of your palms.

“N-no there’s nothing there y/n.” He shakes his head forcing his eyes away. Only you raise an eyebrow at the male. “Oh, then were you just staring at my tits then?” You boldly question, making the male in front of you cough wildly. Catching his breath his cheeks flushed. “No!” He takes a deep breath, “No, I wasn’t!” Jinyoung exclaims his hands coming up to defend his little lie. You look over him, smirking a little. “You know it’s bad to lie, don’t you, sir?” You ask.

Getting up from your seat you walk around him, shoes clicking on the concrete floor, the sound itself oozing authority itself as you trail your fingertip along the length of his neck, feeling his pulse beating erratically, making you chuckle lightly at him. “I know you were looking, you don’t have to hide that.” You tell him, voice dipping slightly as your eyes narrow seductively. Stopping behind him your hands trail up his arms and lay on his shoulders. Squeezing them between your fingertips. Biting your lip as you feel his hard muscles underneath his shirt.

Jinyoung’s incredibly tense, knowing that this whole scene is unprofessional and should stop, but yet he couldn’t stop he wanted more. “Yes, I was looking.” He squeaks out, eyes staying on the table as if he finds the plain cool metal the most interesting thing in the room. Moving, you now stand where he can see you, your bum resting against the cold table leaning on it, as you look down at the male.

“Look at me.” You demand softly, and of course Jinyoung; like the love sick puppy obeys despite his red cheeks. As your eyes make direct contact you smirk. “You don’t have to be shy about staring at my tits.” You tease, tongue flicking out to swipe along your lips, Jinyoung’s own eyes following the movement without thought. “Do you like them?” You add, your own hands coming up to cup them through your shirt, to emphasise your question.

Jinyoung nods as he gulps, he’s eyes flicking down watching as you cup yourself, his trousers starting to become tight as his cock get hard. “Y-yes, I do.” He answers obediently, and you hum in delight at how good he’s being. Leaning forward you smirk at him, “wanna touch them?” You ask him, loving the way his breath hitches, but nonetheless he nods as if in a trance. Jinyoung begins to reach out, but you pull away fast. “Ah ah. Wait a second.” You click your tongue, before you’re reaching under your shirt and behind you as you unclasp your bra taking the material off, making sure Jinyoung sees the black Lacy item before flinging it somewhere in the room behind you.

Now you lean forward again, and Jinyoung’s trousers couldn’t possibly get any tighter now he knows your breasts are free under that sheer shirt of yours. Reaching out you clasp his longer hand in yours, pulling it up and under your shirt and you make him cup you, making him whimper as your perky breast fits in his hand perfectly. His other moves on its own accord without your help as he pushes it under your shirt and grasping your other one. Your skin soft against his calloused hands as he begins massaging them in his palms, thumbs brushing over your nipple before pinching them lightly.

“Mm, so good.” You moan quietly and Jinyoung groans at your praise. Your eyes flicker down at his trousers mouth watering at the sight of his bulge. Distracted by the feeling of your tits he jumps when he feels your fingers lightly trace over his clothed cock. “Get up on the table.” You order, pulling away from him and a whine of protest leaves his lips. “Now.” You order, and at that he moves, sitting up on the table and laying on his back. You waste no time climbing on top of him. Straddling over his crotch, skirt pushing up your thighs as they spread to accommodate his hips.

A whine leaves Jinyoung’s mouth as you lean down and bite harshly on the soft flesh of his neck, sucking on the skin, marking it. Jinyoung’s hands fly up to grip on your hips tightening it as you unzip his trousers and pull down both that and his underwear down just enough to expose his cock.

As you grip the base of the length, you pull your underwear to the side, rubbing the weeping tip along your folds, teasing both him and yourself. “P-please y/n, n-need you,” he begs, his hips lifting up slightly, trying to feel out your warmth himself. You take pity on the male beneath you, laying beautifully on the cool metal table, hair messily clinging to his forehead. Smirking down at him, you run the tip back down your slit until it catches onto your hole, the movement making his breath hitch. Pushing down, you let your walls swallow his tip, hissing at the stretch of his thick cock, and you continue to sink until your ass is flush to his muscular thighs.

You couldn’t hold back the small giggle, that bubbles out of you when you hear him let out a broken moan. Cute, you think. You didn’t even have to look to know his legs are quivering at the feeling of your cunt wrapped snuggly around his length. “F-fuck, you feel so good,” Jinyoung whimpers.

You just chuckle at him,beginning to bounce yourself on his cock, as you unbutton his shirt exposing his toned stomach as chest. You claw at the honeyed skin marking it up and when he jerks his hips up in time with you, he hits that one spot making you moan out. “Fuck, you’re so good baby, so pretty under me.” You praise as you lean back, hands purchased on his thick thighs as your eyes roll back.

“Hmph.” Jinyoung whines as he feels your cunt clench around him, walls so warm, almost driving him insane. Reaching under your shirt once against as he plays with your tits, thumbing the nipples. You look down at him, moving to run your hands through his dark; soft strands of hair before griping at the roots harshly cause him to cry out. “Look at you, fucking your Client, no less someone who’s being falsely accused of murder. So bad.” You degrade, and you can feel him pulse inside you as your words do nothing but turn him on further.

Gripping his chin with your free hand you force him to look at you. “You’ll keep me out of that place won’t you baby, hm? I’ll fuck you so good if you do. My pussy would be all yours.” You moan, manipulating him further as you lean into him, lips attaching, teeth clashing as you use him to get yourself off. Jinyoung’s breathily nods “yes, yes. I won’t let you go.” He mumbles, over and over like a mantra. His whole mind is just filled of thoughts you. You and only you. He won’t let you go. You’re too good for that place.

“Are Gonna cum for me like a good boy?” You ask sweetly drawing a finger down his neck, and he moans out weakly. “Yes, wanna fill you up.” He whines making you chuckle at him, quirking up a brow as you quicken your pace, Jinyoung moves one of his hands away from your breast, trailing down your frame until a thumb is pressing onto your clit rubbing the bud In circles, wanting nothing more than for you to cum along with him.

And you do, your walls fluttering around his cock, practically milking him of all he has got and his eyes are rolling backwards into his skull. And you lean yourself down to his ear, lips brushing on his lobe, tickling him. “Cum inside my pussy, baby.” You tell him. Those words are what he needed to tip him over the edge as his back slightly arches his hands flying to your hips as his nails dig into you. His seed filling deep inside.

Jinyoung comes down panting as you’re in the same condition. “I’ll keep you out, no matter what y/n.” He says through his pants eyes locked into yours, his swirling with emotions; love. You know he’s not lying, it makes you smile almost affectionately down at the male patting his cheek. “I know.” Oh how pretty this little pawn is.

#got7 smut #got7 imagine #got7 oneshot #park jinyoung smut #park jinyoung imagine #park jinyoung oneshot #jinyoung smut #jinyoung imagine #jinyoung oneshot #jinyoung x you

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hcrringtonshair · 3 years

Text

Sweet as sugar

Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sarah Wilson is your best friend and she’s inviting you for dinner.

Word Count: 2048

Warnings: a few swearing words, alcohol consumption and fluff

A/n: Thank you sm for requesting this @buckybarnes101 !! I had so much fun writing this and I kinda got lost in it so it’s pretty long but I couldn’t stop myself 😁 Anyways, I really hope you like it!

Sorry for any grammatical errors, I don’t have a beta reader and I’m not a native english speaker.

Masterlist

(Gif credit goes to @emraanhashmi)

Dinner tonight at my place? The boys are asking for you like every 5 minutes and I want to see my best friend

With a big grin you looked at your phone reading the message from your best friend Sarah.

You checked the time, 4 pm.

Sure! Can’t wait to see you all again 😍 I’ll be there at 7? Oh and is Sam back home?

Your hand landed with a clap on your forehead, why did you ask this? But it was too late to delete it because Sarah already saw it.

You were best friends since college, and she knew about your secret crush on Sam all over the years.

But since he was off to be an avenger and safe the world you had given up any hopes and went into dating again. Not that successful but at least you tried.

We can’t wait either ☺️ Fine I’ll prepare dinner soon and yes Sam is here!

A tickle went through your stomach, and you couldn’t help but to smile, rereading the message before you jumped off your seat.

One of your colleagues looked up from the other side of the desk.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes. Uh.. Important stuff.”

You waved with the phone, grabbing your bag and jacket.

“I worked last Tuesday 3 hours longer. So leaving one hour earlier today will be no problem. Bye!”

After you rushed home, you realized you had no plan what to wear. Normally you showed up at Sarah’s in comfy clothes but today was different. Full of excitement you started to empty the wardrobe, looking for something special.

6:13 pm. Shit you would be there too late… As always.

You nearly stomped over a bunch of clothing that laid on the floor by heading to the door.

Only 10 minutes too late you arrived at the house, Sarah waved from the kitchen window as the door opened and two boys ran to you.

“Aunt y/n”

The two hugged you when you barely left the car, making one step back because of them rushing onto you.

“Hey boys.”

Smiling you put your arms around both of them.

“C’mon we have to show you our new video game!”

They both start running towards the house as you follow them slowly.

“They’re even louder than I remember.”

You laughed as you entered the kitchen, greeting Sarah with a hug, giving her a bottle of wine you bought in the city before.

“That’s because they have an uncle who encourages them, isn’t it like that Sam?”

For a moment you froze before turning around, following the view of Sarah to look at her brother who leans at the door frame.

Arms crossed on his chest, the tight sweater showing off every muscle on his broad arms.

His eyes wander down your body for a moment before they locked with yours again and a little smirk appeared on his lips.

The smirk that you loved so much and makes your heartbeat racing up.

“That’s absolutely right.”

He pushed himself off the frame, making his way to you.

“Long time no see sugar.”

You frown by him calling you sugar, not able to reply directly.

“World’s safe then I guess.”

When his arms wrapped around your body for a moment you held your breath.

You smelled his cologne, a mix of vanilla and cedar wood.

“Safer than ever.”

Before you could react he stepped back, noticing his hands brushing over your hips while letting go.

Automatically a bright smile showed up on your face, you looked at each other, and you didn’t notice the silence in the room before Sarah coughed giggling behind you.

“Sam would you mind to go and tell the boys they have to quit playing. Mr Liu is going to pick them up in 5 minutes.”

Not without winking at you Sam left the kitchen, you hear him laughing in the living room as you turn around.

“So what was that?”

Sarah handed you a glass of wine grinning knowingly, you both toasted.

“What?”

Making an innocent face after taking a few sips of the alcohol.

“This between you and him. I could literally feel the tension. And don’t lie to me, I know that you have a crush on him ever since I introduced you to each other.”

With every word you recognize your cheeks heat up and panic builds up in your stomach as you heard footsteps in your direction while she was speaking.

“Mr Liu is here.”

Sam’s face looked into the room, the boys rushing in to give their mother and you a short hug before leaving again followed by Sam.

When the door closed you breathed out heavy.

“There was no tension. We just haven't seen each other for a long time.”

You shrugged and saw through the window how Sam was saying goodbye to his nephews.

“Of course y/n. Next time tell me something I really could believe.”

Playfully you slapped Sarah’s shoulder and you both started laughing.

“Dinner is ready soon. C’mon let’s sit down outside.”

“Wow I nearly forgot how beautiful it is here.”

Astonished by the view of the last sun shining glittering on the calm water and the trees slowly waving in the warm breeze you made yourself comfortable on the bench on the veranda.

“If you would visit us more often you wouldn’t say that.”

Sam companies the two of you by sitting down next to you.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him casually resting his arm behind you.

You gave Sarah a haunting look which she answered with a giggle.

Her eyes switched from you to her brother and for a moment she stayed on him.

Since Sam sat down, your body had cramped, and you concentrated to act normal by emptying the glass of wine in one.

“Wow, slow it down, sugar. We don’t want you to be drunk before dessert.”

His giggling sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but to let out a nervous laughter.

“I’m honored that you care but don’t worry. I still have to drive home.”

You hadn’t noticed that Sarah left while you had spoken to Sam, so you turn around a bit, casually crossing your legs and resting hands folded on the upper thigh.

“Then I’ll give you more wine.”

His arm shoots around you to the table on your left to grab the bottle of wine, “More wine, less leaving.”

“Oh shit. Sorry guys, I forgot about Mrs Benoit’s Gutter. I promised her to fix it today.”

Sarah rushed out of the house down the staircase and you both flinched by the sudden interruption.

“But I already fixed it earlier this morning!”

Sam shouted at her when she headed to the car.

She waved with her hand, “She said it’s broken again! Dinner is ready, start eating without me, I’ll be back asap.”

Speechless you stared at your best friend, who was giving you a wink through the car window before driving away.

Seconds of silence let you inspect the fine fabric of your blouse.

“So then. Let’s go eating.”

You looked up, watching Sam going back on his feet reaching out for your hand.

For a brief moment you stare at his hand, feeling again your cheeks heating up before taking it timidly.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, it pounded so fast that you thought it would spring out of your rib cage every second.

The fact that Sarah already prepared the table with only two plates didn’t help.

“Damn it Sarah.”

You murmured as you sat down, Sam on the opposite laughed, his eyes shining in the dimmed light.

“I’m pretty sure that the gutter is fixed.”

“So am I. And I’m convinced that she will not be back soon.”

He opens up a beer and silently you both put some food on your plates.

“She was also bold enough to light candles. Didn’t know her romantic side until then.”

Sam laughed again at your words, nearly knocking over his beer can.

“She can be. Did you know how much she loved Dirty Dancing when we were younger? Or Titanic, god how many handkerchiefs were necessary for her tears.”

“Sounds familiar.”

Without looking at him you began to eat, grinning at the thought of a younger Sam who helps Sarah calm down after the death of Jack.

“Wait, don’t tell me that your most favorite movie of all time is Titanic.”

His eyes showed surprise and a bit of shock and you laughed again when his left hand wandered up to his chest, resting it where the heart is.

“No way! But I won’t lie when I say that I’ve cried when Rose realized that Jack is dead. It is an emotional scene and I will never not cry while watching this.”

You paused for taking the wine glass up to your lips, noticing that Sam was following your movements with his eyes.

You giggled into the glass, raising eyebrows which leads him to speak.

“I forgot how good you’re looking. No let me speak out.”

He raised one hand to stop you from speaking up.

“You’re really beautiful y/n. Sweet as sugar.”

He gave you a wink, his hand randomly brushing over yours as you both wanted to grab a spoon.

“Thank you.”

In your head you slapped yourself for that dumb answer, but it was impossible to make one right thought in your head since Sarah had left.

After dinner and three more glasses of wine you’d become more confident and put all your thoughts aside.

“So what next? I’m not ready to leave.”

“Maybe we should use the time, even though I don’t think that my sister will be here soon.”

He made a gesture to show you to follow him.

“We could watch a movie.”

He looked at a small shelf, left to the TV and you accompanied him, your eyes flying over the titles on the DVD boxes.

“What about that?”

You groan as he held Titanic in his hands, grinning down at you and wiggling with his eyebrows.

“No way unless you want to make me cry.”

“Maybe it’s just an excuse to hold you.”

The innocent glare he gave you before inspecting the cover of the box let your hands shake.

“You don’t need an excuse for that.”

Mumbling you choose another box holding it up so that he could read it.

“Sounds like an offer. Go make yourself comfortable, I’ll handle this.”

He took the box, and you made your way to the couch in front of the TV.

It wasn’t possible to concentrate yourself on Bad Boys II.

Soon as he sat down beside you, he had wrapped one arm around your shoulders and pushed you against his chest.

Immediately you had lied down your head on it which caused him to giggle lightly.

The alcohol had made your head go dizzy, and soon you felt how your eyelids become heavy.

“You’re sure you want to drive home? You can stay here, or I can bring you.”

His voice was close to your ear, and you flinched, you must have been asleep for a short moment.

“Oh no you don’t have to. I’m fine and besides, how will you come home then?”

“Then we’ll take my car, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow. But you can just stay here. We have a free room.”

With a big yawn you sit up, stretching out your arms before falling back against him.

“You know what. I’ll stay here. But you can pick me up from work tomorrow anyways.”

The blood shoots into your face as you heard yourself speaking, embarrassed you looked up to see him smile.

You stayed like this for a couple of seconds, his hands wandering up and down your back.

“You know what I can also do?”

“You could kiss me.”

You had spoken out loud your thoughts before you had really thought about it.

And he did, pressing down his lips onto yours and caused you to hold your breath for a moment.

The kiss was slow, his smooth lips moved perfectly against yours, and you couldn’t help but to grab his shoulders and push yourself closer to him.

“Sarah should leave us alone more often then.”

#Request #fic request #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson x reader #Sam Wilson x you #Sam Wilson x y/n #falcon #tfatws #Sarah Wilson #Sam Wilson fluff #marvel #mcu #marvel writer

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believeitseeitdoit · 3 years

Text

A Defiled Uniform

Steve x reader x Bucky , Steve Rogers x reader , Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: the boys find a particular garment in your stuff, and set out to fulfill an old fantasy in the bedroom

Rating: 18+, don’t touch this if you are under age please, and sweet Jesus wrap it up folks,

Warnings: CW brief discussion of religion and old style school punishments, SMUT, 3 some, if it isn’t your style, don’t read (I’ll be less offended if you ignore it than if you read it and get cranky), blowjobs, spanking, man on man kissing, dirty talk, language, teacher kink … let me clarify the reader is 100% of age and consenting to the scene!!!

The boys are helping you pack up your apartment so you can move to the compound up North with them. Natasha is helping you wrap dishes in the kitchen while Steve and Bucky tuck your clothes into suitcases from your closet. Classic rock plays throughout, windows open letting fresh air flow, and you can hear Sam bickering with the spiderling about what order to pack your furniture into the moving truck. Nat hands you another champagne flute from the top rack when you hear Bucky call your name.

“Y/N! When did you get all these shirts?! You literally wear 3! And since when do you wear so many shoes???” He yells from the closet, tossing your stuff at Steve, who patiently chuckles and sets them down in his organized fashion.

“It’s called variety, Buck, you’re not a woman on undercover missions. I need options!” You chirp back at him and set the wrapped plate into the box.

Bucky continues to mutter over your items and sighs happily when he can finally see the other side wall of the closet. Only 2 hangers left to go, he thinks gratefully. He grads an aged, faded green hoodie with your university logo and puts it to his nose so he can soak up your scent on it. Your choice fabric softener and hints of your favorite perfume, Black Opium, waft through and he thinks fondly of how much he loves those scents. Tossing the top to his best man, Bucky grabs at the last hanger. Huh, never seen this skirt before, he thinks while holding it up to the light.

“Hey Stevie, have you ever seen her wear this? Looks awful small for mission gear.” Bucky aims the skirt at Steve, giving it a gentle shake for dramatic effect.

“No, Buck, can’t say I have. You know what it reminds me of though? Those uniforms they used to wear at the all girls school across the road from the park back in Brooklyn.” Steve looks from the clothing to his boyfriend suggestively.

“Oh yeah! Those nuns sure kept the girls in line, remember the stories Dot and Molly would tell us about the rulers and paddles? Shit today that’s corporal punishment!” Bucky pulls the skirt off the hanger and folds it, placing the garment in your overnight bag rather than the suitcase.

“You gonna do something with that?” Steve nods to the new addition to your bag.

“Just gonna ask a question later is all Stevie.” Bucky winks at his partner and smiles.

Later that evening, the apartment is signed away and no longer your monster to manage, and the three of you are celebrating the next step in your relationship and life with your men. Lounging on the couch between them, your back against Steve and your legs curled up on top of Bucky’s, sipping a whiskey coke. Steve reaches to your chin and tips it up to place a chaste kiss on your lips, while Bucky rubs up and down your calves softly. You return his peck by sliding your tongue across his teeth, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. As he obliges, he lets his hands drift around your waist to rub your breasts and knead at the full flesh.

In your lustful haze, you hear Bucky speak up. “So where in hell did a good Catholic student learn how to kiss like that? I’m pretty sure they didn’t teach you how to moan like that in school princess.” His eyes are dark with desire and he rests his hands on your knees, locking them in place. You turn your eyes away from one man to the other, bewildered and slightly warm.

“What do you mean Bucky?” You ask with genuine uncertainty. Regardless of the commentary, your arousal grows with the ministrations from both your lovers.

“Well see doll, we did a little research today while you were unpacking. Shield likes to keep full files, and boy was it satisfying to learn that our sweet girl was an innocent little catholic school student. Went to church twice a week and everything.”

Steve whispers in your ear while rubbing a nipple between his fingers.

“And what better detail to find than your old uniform hanging in the closet. Blue is really our favorite color princess.” Bucky adds while snaking his vibranium hand up the inside of your thigh. He ghosts a finger across the seam of your panties, and gives them a quick snapping tug.

You turn to hide your head in the couch cushions, an attempt to cover the blush spreading across your cheeks. They weren’t supposed to find it! How could you slip up with that , as a SHIELD agent??! That fantasy was to remain deeply hidden.

“Don’t hide princess, we want to see that face when Steve tells you what happens next.” Bucky continues working your mound with his metal arm while he previews the future of the evening.

“Now sweet girl, you are going to go upstairs and open your overnight bag. You are to strip out of these clothes, put on the items in there, NOTHING else. Understand me?” Steve’s voice drops an octave as his mind shifts toward his dominant state.

“When you’re ready, I want you to sit at the desk, ready for the bell to ring.” Bucky adds his request as you nodded toward the blonde.

You swing your legs off the couch, palms sweaty with the anticipation of fulfilling the fantasy of defilling such a symbol of purity and innocence. As you turn away from your boyfriends and head to complete your task, each man takes a palm to your ass and smiles. You yelp, and scurry to the bedroom to find your drag bag placed at the foot of the bed. With shaking hands you peel the zipper apart to pull out your wardrobe. A white button down blouse, white ankle socks, the soon to be defamed plaid skirt, and the most ridiculously padded fire engine red bra you’d ever seen. With a chuckle, you peel off one layer of clothes and begin re dressing with the second. Not knowing how much time you have until the “class” begins, you hastily throw your hair into a ponytail and slap a little lip stain on before sliding into the large desk chair and crossing your ankles.

Moments later, you hear heavy boots scuff the floor and the stairs creak under the weight of two super soldiers. Your thoughts drift to dirty places and you imagine seeing bucky’s vibranium hand slide under the skirt while Steve massages your flushed and heavy tits through the top half of your given uniform. A shrill school bell pierces your thoughts and a heavy thud from the door forces your eyes up.

“Now who do we have here? Looks like Miss Y/L/N was sent in for a dress code violation. Mr. Rogers, would you please identify the specifics on why you have sent this young lady to my office?” Bucky looks you up and down as if he were stalking his prey.

Steve looks over his reading glasses and gives you a once over. “Well Mr. Barnes, this young lady clearly has no respect for the rules. I guarantee that skirt is far too short, bet you can see her backside if she stands up.” He begins to circle you as well, and pulls at your blouse. “This shirt is practically transparent, I’d say that’s a bra redder than a sunburn on the Fourth of July.” He grabs a strap and allows it to snap sharply back against your shoulder.

Bucky reaches out to you, asking for your hand. “Now young lady, I am a pretty lenient man, but disrespecting the code of conduct is an inexcusable offense. Mr.Rogers didn’t even mention that lipstick you have on. I happen to know for a fact your lips are not that shade of plum.” He swipes a thumb across your lips to smear the stain. “I think we should allow him to assist in your punishment since he had to leave his duties to discuss this with us.”

“I haven’t used a ruler on this one yet, will that suffice Mr.. Barnes ? She looks a bit delicate for much else.” Steve comes up behind you and begins to caress your thighs, not yet going past the skirt.

“I think a palm should get the point across rather eloquently, perhaps 10?.” Bucky keeps hold of your hand and reaches for your other to pull you close to him.

Steve releases your legs and allows Bucky to take you away. With his vibranium hand, Bucky pulls you to the opposite side of the desk, and leans you across it bringing your chest flush against the mahogany. As he releases your hands he whispers in your ear. “Now princess, I want you to count them and just maybe this will be your punishment for not telling us about your dreams sooner.”

Your thighs clench as a wave of wetness rushes through you, and your breath comes in pants as you hear the pair of them come to face each other over you. Bucky grabs your hands again, and brings them together in front of you so he can hold you down, while Steve runs a hand up your legs and slots one of his between your knees.

“I knew this tight ass couldn’t hide under that skirt, such a bad girl princess,” Steve says as he pushes the skirt over the globes and gives each one a squeeze. “Damn Bucky, can you tell how turned on she is? Dripping all over the place, ready to cum still all dressed up.” He continues kneading your backside while ignoring your moans and wiggling frame.

“Wait til you’ve finished her punishment, bet she’ll be ripe and sweet like a peach for us to taste Stevie.” Bucky growls as he pushes you back down onto the table.

Distracted by Bucky’s words and touch, you nearly miss the sound of air moving as Steve’s palm cuts through it toward your ass. You Yelp again, and whimper at the prospect of not sitting for a week. Bucky taps on your shoulder, reminding you of your duty. “What did I ask you to do princess? Are you going to be a good girl and count for us?”

“Yes, One Sergeant.” You groan out the count.

Another smack comes down to the same spot, right above the crest of your cheek. You gasp into the desk and suck in a breath from the sting. “Two Sergeant.”

Steve continues doling out your punishment to your backside, by the time he hits nine tears are welling in your eyes from the sting and pleasure building in you. Your legs are shaking with effort from standing and your voice is wrecked from garbled use.

“Ten, Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You whisper after Steve finishes his smacks and begins to rub the marks in soothing circles.

“Good job princess, you did that so well, now it’s time for your reward.” Bucky releases your arms and Steve pulls you up from the desk, the pair of them sandwiching you between them as you all move toward the bed. Your blouse is pulled over your head between frantic kisses with Steve, while Bucky strips his clothes. As they switch positions, you go to unzip the skirt and wrap your legs around Bucky, but he catches your hand and yanks it behind your back.

“Who said you were allowed to take that off? Class is in session, and you must be ready to learn.” His eyes glow with desire as he leans in to kiss you.

Once Steve has rid himself of his clothes, he returns to the bed and comes to lay behind you as Bucky sits you up. “Today’s lesson princess, is the art of how to keep sucking while you cum.” Steve is stroking his member while watching your eyes roll shut with want as he explains the plan to you. Bucky houses you forward into Steve’s chest and pulls your backside to him.

“Damn Stevie, those handprints won’t be gone for a week. She’ll have to find a softer surface to sit on.” He admires his boyfriend’s handiwork while getting his girl set. With your head down and ass up, Bucky slides his flesh hand between your thighs and begins to run two fingers along the outside of your slit. Using your arousal to coat his fingers, Bucky pushes two inside you and begins to work them slowly. He picks up speed as you begin moaning and looks up at his partners nodding to Steve to fill you from the other end.

As Bucky’s fingers move against your walls with vigor, you moan and writhe seeking out more friction on your clit. Steve takes the opportunity to place his hard cock against your open lips, and waits for you to begin sucking. No motivation needed, you lean into his groin and take him in one swallow. Moving your head back and forth, you swirl your tongue against the shaft, and as Bucky adds a third finger to your pussy, you let a moan vibrate through your body, sending a secondary shiver through Steve as well. You relax your jaw and allow Steve to begin fucking into your mouth as his own release builds, the sounds of skin slapping and your muffled moans driving him wild with want. Bucky withdraws his fingers and reaches under you to lift you higher onto your knees. With this motion, Steve lifts into a kneel of his own and makes eye contact with his boyfriend. You pay them no mind as greedily sucking down your boyfriend's dick takes precedence and the prospect of getting fucked by the other makes you giddy with anticipation.

Bucky grabs a fistful of your skirt and slams your ass into his hips, setting your pussy ablaze with the slide of his thick curved cock against your walls. You groan against Steve’s painfully hard member, and before you can take him all he grabs your ponytail and pulls you off. Bucky’s brutally fast and deep pace has you close to the crest and Steve wants you to remember the rule of the scene.

“What did we say about today princess, you need to be able to keep sucking my cock while Bucky makes you come. Don’t stop, go it?” He wraps his hand in the ponytail and as you nod he allows you to take him in your mouth again.

Bucky’s thrusts are getting frantic as he chases everyone's peaks, and he reaches his vibranium hand to your clit while grabbing Steve with his opposite hand to pull him in for a hard kiss. Both men are panting as they pound into you from both sides, a hand touching each body as your body grows tight with the desire to orgasm. Bucky pinches your pearl and he tells you to come, giving a final hard thrust as he feels your walls clench around him. Like a rubber band, you snap into oblivion, no longer aware of what occurs beyond the throbbing in your pussy and the perfect fullness that surrounds you. You feel the waves of pleasure crash through you, and still both men continue their chase. Hypersensitive and fuzzy, you relax your jaw again and take Steve all the way to the hilt, and you bob your head quickly, sealing your lips around his large base trying to finish him off. Bucky’s thrusts have gone shallow as your walls have him locked like a vice, but you feel him begin to shatter as well. With a final thrust from both men, they spill into you with heavy grunts.

Bucky pulls out of you and Steve lifts you off his softened member, laying you onto the pillows.

“Did we properly defile the uniform, princess?” Steve kisses your forehead as Bucky pulls the garment off you with a smile.

“Yes Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You nod sleepily, thank each man, and curl into their frames as Bucky climbs under the sheets. “If I had had either of you for teachers, it would have been a shameful garment way sooner,” you chuckle as they share a kiss above you.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #stevebucky #steve rogers #steve x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes #stucky #smut

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Text

Vmin cut - BTS on Game Caterers - Main Game

by Admin 1

It’s been a little while, hasn’t it? Feels nice to be writing a post again, but instead of a full breakdown of the episode of RUN x Game Caterer’s which was uploaded on their YouTube channel, I thought I’ll just talk about some of the cute vmin moments we got thanks it since there is quite a lot to get through. Sound good?

Before I get into it, can we just briefly talk about Tae’s look for these episodes because honestly...! I certainly did make a joke toward Admin 2 that Tae must’ve forgotten his shirt at home or something, but I’m fairly certain absolutely no one minded. At all. I’m not quite sure what was up with the hat he wore on and off, but it suits him very nicely.

Really, as vminnies we’ve just been spoiled recently, and especially in this episode on YouTube where the main part of it was spent on them trying to complete their tasks while also stopping the other members from succeeding with theirs. While we knew what tasks the hyungs had--Yoongi wasn’t allowed to speak, laugh or eat; Namjoon was supposed to place 300 dominos; Seokjin had to peel 100 quail eggs; Hoseok was to make a dish despite the members just having eaten--we initially didn’t know at all what the maknaes were supposed to do. But due to the nature of Tae’s task, it became clear rather quickly what it was, for us as viewers but also for the other members which led to hilarious and cute moments of them (and especially Jimin) trying to stop him.

The first little funny thing actually happens right as the members all go back into the house to start the game with Jimin singing the melody to IDOL, which Tae asks him about and then comments how it sounded familiar. Later in the episode it became clear why that melody in particular made Tae perk up.

I’m sorry Jiminie for the unflattering screenshot BUT the point is that Tae was walking around trying to find a good place to hide Seokjin’s quail eggs (not knowing which member they belong to) while the others watched him until Jimin decided to intervene and stop him. Tae wanted to hide them in a room that was off limits so Jimin wanted to take them from him (as proof that they really aren’t Tae’s task) but in the end Jimin and the others just got Tae to simply put them back where he got them from--the kitchen.

Just like he said to Hobi a little earlier, as the game begins Tae lies down ‘in the sun’ but immediately Jimin approaches him to stop him, in case that somehow really is his task. But quickly everyone turns their attention on Yoongi quietly sitting in the background looking like he might sleep while Hobi goes to the kitchen and asks the others if they are hungry making everyone immediately suspicious of him.

More below the cut:

Unsure how to inconspicuous get to his own task, Namjoon directs everyones attention back onto Tae lying on the floor with Jimin quickly joining him, Joon taking Tae’s hands while Jimin takes his ankles so they can move him across the room.

Similarly, a few scenes later we also have a moment where Seokjin and Namjoon try to get Tae off the floor or make him laugh (?) since Namjoon decides to tickle him. As someone who is a Kim line bias/bias wrecker, this was very lovely. Once Namjin leave, JK approaches Tae and asks him what he’s doing, to which Tae merely says he’s ‘just chillin’.

We also had two scenes in which Jimin helped Tae put his mic pack back on since it fell out once after he got up off the floor and then again after playing around with Jimin later in the episode. Honestly these two are like adorable magnets throughout this episode, it kind of reminds me a little of the RUN episode for Hangul Day I believe where they had to collect little plastic (?) hangul and make words out of them while also sticking stickers onto their target member where vmin decided to stick together (Jimin’s idea because, as he said himself, he loves Tae) but unbeknownst to Jimin, he was Tae’s target. Oops. Why it reminded me of that will become clear later in the episode.

As everyone was trying to make Seokjin’s hard task even harder, Tae and Jimin came by with a similar idea ending with Tae eating the two eggs Seokjin had so far peeled while Jimin laughs very amused. Cute!

Their next target was Yoongi, whom Tae previously dragged across the room by his ankles toward Seokjin. One thing I’d like to mention is how gentle and careful everyone was with Yoongi, and especially in this moment with how Jimin pointed out (even if it wasn’t subbed) that they should be careful with Yoongi’s left shoulder and as he lifted him, he didn’t put his hands/arm under Yoongi’s armpit, but instead Yoongi crossed his arms and Jimin grabbed his arm on his left side to avoid hurting him in any way. This pattern continued throughout the entire episode whenever the other members tried to “mess” with Yoongi to get him to fail his mission, like JK picking him up by the butt.

Eventually Dynamite starts playing and JK, Namjoon and Jimin see Tae start dancing and swiftly come in to stop him which kicks off an adorable chain of events when it comes to vmin with Jimin being very determined to stop Tae.

Tae just casually holding on to Jimin’s leg, as you do. Cute!

Can we talk about how delicately Tae is holding Jimin’s ankle? And also how slowly his socks are more and more dirty lol.

(Also, if you noticed in the gif, Tae did wear his ring in this episode, which according to RUN episode 140, was filmed a day after Let’s BTS aired so it truly appears as though Tae started to wear the ring after that show. Make of that what you will.)

During the reveal at the end of the episode we also got the moment when Jimin and Tae fall to the floor again from another angle which revealed to us that it looked like, while falling, Tae could’ve potentially hit his back on Jimin’s knee, which Jimin realized. To keep it from happening, Jimin put his hand on Tae’s back to soften his fall and keep him from hurting himself. Truly they care so much about each other and want to do whatever they can so the other doesn’t get hurt. Like that time on the Anpanman slide during the Love Yourself: Speak Yourself Tour where Jimin held on to Tae so that once they reached the bottom of the slide and fell off of it to the floor Tae wouldn’t hit the ground so hard and thus wouldn’t hurt himself.

And just as Tae managed to get off the floor again and it seems like Jimin will move on to mess with another member, Tae starts dancing again and Jimin swoops in again to stop him, both of them being all giggles and smiles just having so much fun. A little while later Namjoon also swoops in and stops Tae in a similar manner with Tae simply sinking to the floor to get Namjoon to stop and move on before trying again.

The episode continues and eventually Tae moves on to his actual task, which yes, was dancing, but not to Dynamite. Unfortunately for him, Jimin was still watching him and quickly caught on, realizing that the choreography he’s now trying isn’t Dynamite but instead we know it’s IDOL. So he stops him again.

Honestly Jimin rubbing his back against Tae like they’re in a club (or they’re back on stage during that one music show where Tae had that black vest and the pink bunny ears and those famous vmin ‘you come here often?’ pictures are from) is something I certainly did not expect. And of course Namjoon is there as well since what would be a moment of vmin wildin’ if Namjoon weren’t somewhere close by.

Eventually Jimin calls for Tae and JK and offers that they should put Yoongi outside. Meanwhile Tae attempts to continue dancing to IDOL to which Jimin tells him that they don’t have time for that and proposes a deal: if Tae helps him, Jimin will leave him alone. To which Tae just says that sure, perhaps he will let him dance, but JK will not, therefore rejecting the deal.

While Namjoon searches for his bag of dominos, we get this glimpse at vmin doing...something? Also while the camera continues to follow Namjoon, in the background we see Jimin continuously follow Tae and try to distract and stop him, the two of them giggling and smiling at each other for most of the time. Told you happy magnets.

Soon, continuing their team work against Yoongi, Jimin and Tae make another attempt together to get him to fail his mission with Namjoon joining in soon as well, along with JK, crowding in on Yoongi and tickling him, but it’s all in vein since Yoongi doesn’t break his quietness.

Eventually the 30 minutes are up and the game is over. Even if Tae managed to dance all the parts of the IDOL choreography, he did them in parts which did not count. Then the question is what Jimin’s mission was--put coins in the pockets of all the members. Here we have a cute scene where outside Jimin sits down and one of the coins falls from his pocket and Tae the kind soul bends down to pick it up to give it back to Jimin. Afterward we get a montage of Jimin’s attempts to fulfill his mission. I won’t reveal if he managed to do it or not since some of you might not have seen the episode yet. I also won’t reveal what JK’s task was nor who won in the end.

And with that, the episode was over. It was honestly so, so funny! If you haven’t seen it yet, I highly recommend checking it out even though it’s cut into three parts making it a little more ‘tricky’ to find on YouTube than just clicking on the episodes on Weverse/vlive.

Here’s part one:

youtube

#vmin #BTS #Jimin #Taehyung #Vmin gif #BTS x game caterers

71 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 4 years

Text

repentance - knj | m

now, let's imprint my name on that trophy and come back home - come back home, BTS

↳ summary- your boyfriend, Kim Namjoon, doesn’t like it when you flirt with other guys

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6k

↳ pairing- namjoon x reader

↳ genre- smut, this is all smut, there is nothing but smut here, there is no god in this chili’s tonight. this actively takes us further from the light.

↳ warnings- very hard BDSM, name calling, degradation, humiliation, spitting, caning/spanking, collaring, bondage, squirting, overstimulation, impreg kink lmfao, face fucking, Namjoon is a v sadistic dom but he is still sane, after care is important,

↳ a/n- well folks. here it is. The fic that pushed me past my comfort zone lmfafskadf. i am 100% grateful to @sombreboy for assisting me with this and being silly as fuck in the google doc. i could not have done it without his guidance lmfaooo. this was requested by anon and i hope i did it justice and i rly appreciate getting sent things that make me write things i normally wouldn’t! thank you for believing in me lmfao. pls feel free to interact with me however u want bc i love you all. Thanks for reading! namjoon if ur reading this pls forgive me

“I hope you had your fun, doll,“ Namjoon whispers harshly in your ear as you walk with him away from the dance studio. You’re covered in sweat, hot, and still you’re shaking like a leaf at the tone of your boyfriend’s voice.

So maybe you broke the rules. Maybe you danced with Jimin at practice a little too intensely, a little too provocatively. Maybe you grinded up against the blonde harder than you should, making the dancer sport a tent in his pants.

And maybe you did it in front of your boyfriend, that man who loved and dominated you.

Is it too late to say oops?

Namjoon is silent on the drive home. His face is expressionless, but his eyes give it away. He looks a touch angry, a touch excited, but he mostly radiates possession. If there’s something that Namjoon hates, it’s sharing you.

Your playful flirting with Jimin had been just that—playful. Jimin was your dance partner going on 10 years now, ranging from ballroom to jazz and tap, to contemporary and international. Jimin was always your go-to guy, best friend, and occasional fuck buddy. Namjoon knew this, knew the history between you two, but still allowed you your freedom in dancing and competing with the blonde. Sometimes it was just so easy to fall back on old habits, when you’d grind on Jimin so hard that he’d rip your shorts down and take you against the hardwood floor of the studio.

Even though you were quite happy in your relationship with Namjoon, it was hard to re-route the synapses that led elsewhere when you were dancing.

But you loved Namjoon, and you had for a long time. It was something you were working on, the flirting and the carelessness. Namjoon was supportive, loving, and a natural caretaker.

He was also a sadistic Dominant.

Where Namjoon was sensitive, sweet, communicative and giving in the streets, he was disgusting and filthy and downright heinous in the sheets.

And you loved every single aspect of it. There was nothing that thrilled you more than the control he wielded on you, the power in his gaze and in his hand, and the possession he took of you.

It was the reason none of your relationships worked out before him. Sure, there had been pleasant guys and excellent fucks like Jimin. But Namjoon was the entire package, plus some. You trusted him with your entire life, your whole being. He grew up alongside you, and you knew the man would rather injure himself than ever cause you harm.

It’s what made the punishments, the pain, even more delicious. He took you to your breaking point, sometimes even further, because he knew you could take it. And you trusted, loved and adored him for it.

But that didn’t mean it was easy.

No, while the punishments and pain were fun in the long run, they still sent a thrill of fear down your spine.

It’s been awhile since you got your boyfriend this worked up. Things had been pretty smooth sailing for the last few months. Sure, he was still a maniac in bed, but it was the scripted and practiced scenes you both knew by heart. Schoolgirl, nurse, secretary.

But this was real. Tangibly real. You could feel the tension rolling off his toned body, the heat of it ensnaring you, tying you up tight.

You want to apologize, open your mouth and begin the litany of sorry’s and I didn’t mean to’s, but your throat felt dry. You knew it was useless to try now, and the act might make him more upset.

The punishment he would inflict upon you would absolve you, baptize you of your sins. He’d sacrifice your flesh to be remade.

The car pulls into the garage of your shared home. Namjoon parks, closes the heavy door behind the car, then sits in the car staring straight ahead.

He’s silent for a moment. It puts your nerves on edge and he knows this, knows you hate the silence more than anything else.

“You are going to get naked. Right now.” He orders, still not facing you. He focuses his eyes on the wall of your garage. “You will leave your dirty clothes outside where they belong. And you will crawl from the car into the house.”

You nibble at your lip, waiting for more instructions. He turns and levels a look at you, and your body lights with fire.

“I want you to retrieve your collar and the handcuffs and bring them to me in the bedroom. You will get in position for me.”

He looks at you once more, seeking your eyes for any sign of fear, anything to tell him he’s going too far.

While your heart races, you nod and swallow tightly. You’re scared but not enough to stop him. You have a safe word for a reason but you haven’t needed to use it yet and you trust Namjoon more than you trust yourself.

He takes stock of your agreement and exits the car, leaving you alone as he trudged up the stairs leading to the house.

It takes one shuddering breath before you step out of the car, peel your sweaty workout clothes off, and slide down to your knees. There're cameras in the garage for security, and you know he’s watching them to ensure you’re listening to his orders.

The floor of the garage is dirty. You take one movement forward and look at your hands to find they’re already covered in black soot from the dirt and oils of the car tires driving in and out. You make a face but quickly pull out of it. This is your punishment.

You crawl up the steps and gingerly open the door, then make your way to your linen closet where your collar and handcuff remain when you’re not at home.

Namjoon gifted you with a home collar and a public collar. The public collar is a beautiful diamond circle pendant that hits right at the hollow of your throat.

The home collar, however, is made out of a study leather material, embedded with gorgeous diamonds. It’s heavy against your throat when you wear it. It’s a constant reminder of your subservient relationship to your Dom, your boyfriend.

The handcuffs hang from their specified hook. Black leather with chains connecting the cuffs. They’re strong, incredibly so, and the thought of being locked up makes your core tighten in excitement and fear.

With the items secure in your grasp, you return to your kneeling position and continue crawling towards the bedroom where your boyfriend awaits. Something inside you bubbles fiercely—what does he have planned for you? It’s been awhile since you’ve been quite literally at his mercy.

Namjoon is standing in front of the bed, arms crossed over his chest as you enter the room. You keep your eyes down, not making contact until he instructs for you to do so. You can feel the power and heat oozing off him, surrounding him like a cloud of authority. You approach and sit in front of him, knees spread wide and sat back on your heels. Your hands offer up the collar and the cuffs, palms up, as you avert his gaze.

“Look at you,” he tuts. “Filthy...” He removes the collar and cuffs off your hands and gazes at the black soot remaining from the dirty garage floor,

“But it suits you perfectly, doesn’t it?”, his voice was almost mocking you, ‘’A dirty slut.’’

Quite literally.

Namjoon sets aside your collar on the edge of the bed before crouching in front of you, a lopsided grin curling on his lips as he grabs your wrists as to inspect them,

‘’Even your pretty little hands are soiled, angel.’’ he tsked in disapproval, the mere sound of it making you feel smaller, eyes still fixed on the floor. After all, he hadn’t told you to look at him as of yet.

You don’t know why you thought he would ask you to wash your hands, but you quickly threw aside your anticipations as it catches you off guard with what he does next.

‘’Palms up, angel. Show me your hands.’’

A confused second passed, but you obliged nonetheless, raising both of your hands, palms up to him as if you were begging for something.

The mere sight was absolutely gorgeous to Namjoon.

Without a word, Namjoon collects enough saliva in his mouth, grabbing your wrists to pull your hands closer, letting his spit drip from his tongue down to pool in your hands. Your eyes widen as they stare at the floor, arms twitching instinctively at the foreign sensation.

His grasp around your wrists tightens, ‘’Stay still… Be a good girl, yeah?’’

You nod, relaxing your arms. However the muscles in them feel tired from holding them out for him like this. He knows, he can tell, but says nothing about it. He loves to watch you struggle, adamant to please him.

Besides, you deserve it, don’t you?

Once more, Namjoon spits in your hands. This time, it has a degrading intention; a harsh spitting sound as it lands in your hand. He stands up again, the angle even more delicious from above as he watches you obediently hold his pooled saliva like it was the most precious gift from him.

‘’Go on... Clean up.’’

You bite your lip as the slick saliva spreads in your hands. Your body thrums with humiliation and desire, mixing to make your legs quiver where they kneel before him. You clasp your hands together and rub your boyfriends spit in your hands, attempting to remove as much of the dirt as possible with what he’s given you. It’s messy—the spit is black from the soot. His eyes take you in, the image of you cleansing yourself with him, accepting his spit like the dirty whore you are, that he loves. It makes his cock throb in his jeans. Nothing gets him off quicker than putting you in your place, seeing you accept his degradation with pink cheeks and frightened eyes.

He pulls his shirt off his body and throws it to you carelessly.

“Use it to dry your hands,” he orders.

You comply, wiping the last off you with his shirt.

“Let me see.” You hold your hands up for him to inspect and he smirks, ‘’Good little slut.’’

His hands open the collar wide and you jerk slightly as you feel the pressure of it on your neck. Namjoon pulls it tight around you for a moment, cutting off your air supply, before he releases and secures the collar to sit high on your throat. The ‘O’ ring sits at the center proudly, a place he often uses to leash and drag you around like his pretty, perfect pet.

He moves away from you and towards the armoire at the side of your bedroom. Your heart gallops wildly. The armoire is full of his toys, punishment and reward alike. The unknowing of what he’s getting out to use on you has your cunt dripping with desire and fright.

There’s silence as he gathers his tools, then returns and places them on the nightstand.

“Look at me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

You let your eyes flick up to his and your breath catches. He looks incredible. Shirtless, tight pants straining with the bulge of his cock, power exuding from his very pores. Your eyes dance on his chest for just a moment, soaking in the refined lines, then settle at his eyes. They’re darkened with lust, with intention. He looks at you like you are his next, and final, meal.

“I want you to bend over the bed. You will spread your legs and push out your pretty little ass. I’m going to cane you for what you’ve done today.”

Your eyes widen, and he relishes in the fright lingering. He hasn’t used the cane on you in a long time. It’s the most intense tools of impact you own—the one you’re most frightened of.

“You know your safe word, don’t you?” He asks.

You nod.

He tsks. “I asked you a question. Don’t make me open up that mouth for you. You won’t like what I’ll do.”

A shiver runs through you as you weakly open your mouth. “Yes, sir. My safe word is orange.”

He nods. “Good girl. Let’s hope we won’t need it and you’ll take what you are given, hm?” Another nod from you. “Now, do as you’re told.”

You hop up quickly, knees painfully red and sore now, and move towards the bed. You arch down, sticking your ass out towards your boyfriend and spreading your legs shoulder-length apart. He can see all of you, slick folds weeping with desire and anticipation, legs shaking in fear and arousal.

It’s intoxicating to Namjoon, the way you behave and listen. He loves the fright inside you, the way it soaks your cunt for him. He knows the cane is on the verge of being too much, he knows you’ll be weeping both from eyes and pussy at the end of it.

The wood is heavy in his hands. The cane is only a bit longer than a paddle, but it packs an even more intense blow.

“Tell me what you did today. Why do you deserve my cane?” He asks, allowing the cane to tap at your cheeks lightly. It makes you jerk and clutch at the blankets below you.

“I—I was dancing with Jimin, sir,” you murmur, voice tight with anxiety.

“Ah ah, you weren’t just dancing,” he corrects. “Don’t pretend to be innocent. You know what you did.”

As you open your mouth to speak, he brings the cane down at the tops of your thighs. It cracks heavily on the skin and makes your knees give out. The sting is like white, hot fire on your thighs. It burns, and makes your cunt clench around nothing. Tears spring at your eyes as you try to answer him.

“I was grinding on him!” you cry as your legs return to standing to accept the next blow.

“You were being a little. fucking. slut.” he intones, then punctuates his words with another whip of the cane—right at the center of your ass. The sound of it hitting your flesh echoes in the bedroom you share, and it makes you cry out in pain. Your knuckles were white from the grasp of the blankets—tears flooding you and spilling onto the duvet. “Say it!” He orders.

You whimper through your words. “I was being a slut, sir!”

‘’That’s right, you were being a filthy, horny cockslut.’’ He snarls, another whip echoing in the room as it falls harshly on your skin, ‘’Horny for Jimin’s cock with the way you were grinding on him, by the looks of it, isn’t that right?’’

He laughs mockingly, landing another whip on the same spot he previously caned, it would definitely bruise. But you didn’t care. And neither did he, he fucking loves your cries.

‘’Tell me, who’s cock are you really a whore for?!’’

He holds the cane high, anticipating your answer.

‘’Y-yours, daddy-- p-please!’’ You cry out, clawing at the sheets, legs quivering.

‘’That’s right, but apparently, you didn’t remember that today, angel.’’ He says with an awfully calm voice, cane still held high.

He ends his caning with one final blow, and it makes your vision black out with the intensity. You’re sobbing now, weeping into the blankets as your legs shake.

It’s the most intense pain you’ve ever felt, ever been dealt from your loving boyfriend. It forces you to understand just how upset you made him, just how angry watching you attempt to seduce another man makes him.

“You’re my little cumslut, you hear that? Mine!”

His hands smooth over your reddened ass, harsh burgundy lines marking where he punished you thoroughly. It makes you whimper through your cries, his warm hands simultaneously soothing and agitating the marks.

He only remains for a moment, ensuring the flare of pain is soothed. As sadistic as he is, he remains sane enough to ensure your safety. Your whimpers have slowed slightly, and he takes it as his opportunity to move on.

He reaches for the handcuffs and takes advantage of your prone position, bent over the bed. He works them around your wrists, tightening them just enough to leave you helpless. He pulls you up and presses his back against you, face at your ear.

“You took your first punishment well,” he encourages as he licks a stripe on your throat, right above the collar that symbolizes you as his. “But I’m not finished with you,” he sighs. “Little cock whores like you are never satisfied with just one little punishment, aren’t you?”

You sniffle and nod. “No sir, I n-need more.”

He chuckles—it’s dark and ominous.

“Dirty fucking slut.”

He turns you to face him and he kisses you roughly, no sign of the sweet and sensitive boyfriend. It’s the Jekyll to his Hyde; the sadistic Dom now kissing you cares only of getting off and making you take it.

His mouth is fiery—teeth biting at your lips and growling when he slips his tongue in your mouth.

“Gonna make you remember who the fuck you belong to, baby girl,” he warns as he pulls away. He urges you down to your knees and you’re easily complying.

His hands are at his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping and making your mouth salivate in anticipation.

He steps out of his jeans, and you’re rewarded with his thick cock springing free from the confines of his jeans. You should have expected your boyfriend to go without boxers, but it’s a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

“Look at you,” he notes. “So desperate for my cock.” He grips it and teases it in front of you. You want to lean forward, capture it in your lips but you refrain and wait for the order.

“You think you deserve this? You think I should let you suck my dick after that little show you put on today?” He gives his length a stroke and it makes you nearly whine with need. “Little fucking bitch wants any cock she can get, why should I let you have mine?”

Your eyes shine with tears, still lingering from your caning and refreshing now with wet, hot desire for him.

“Beg.” He orders, holding his dick in front of your face tauntingly.

“P-please, daddy. Let me suck your cock,” you blubber. “Let me show you that you’re the only cock I need.”

He hums and strokes himself. Watching you nearly weep with want and beg to suck him off has his head reeling. The power rushes through his veins like a drug.

“I think you can do better than that,” he sighs. “Why shouldn’t I just jerk myself off and cum on that pretty face of yours?”

Tears freely spill down your face now. “I want you to use me, I want to let you fuck my throat raw, please, sir!” You sound completely gone and Namjoon feels his impossibly hard cock flex at your needy tone. “Please fuck my throat like the cock whore I am!”

“That’s fucking right,” he grunts. “Open that fucking mouth for me.” Your mouth opens and he’s leaning down to spit harshly at your waiting tongue. It makes you jerk, but you reserve yourself and accept it. “Filthy little bitch.”

He moves forward and sets his cock on your tongue and almost groans at the feel of your hot mouth, swirling with his spit now.

“Make me cum with your mouth, you don’t get to use those hands today.”

He wastes no time on shoving his length into you and down your throat. He gives a few precursory thrusts and sighs as he feels your throat gagging around him and hears your desperate, wet sounds. Tears flow freely—your mascara is smearing down your face as you look up at him, mouth stuffed full. It’s the prettiest sight he thinks he’s ever seen. You’re desperate, absolutely fucked out for him. Saliva dribbles down your mouth and he fucking loves it when you become a mess on his cock.

“Pathetic.’’ He murmurs. But truly, he thinks it was beautiful—the way you desperately take his cock down your throat, the needy look in your teary eyes and the muffled whines vibrating in your throat at his fake disapproval. It makes you work harder, eager to make him feel good.

You bob your head, keeping your eyes locked on Namjoon—he loves it when you’re giving him your undivided attention. It’s sloppy, and you’re loud. Namjoon fucking lives for when all your inhibitions are gone and you’re wanton and horny like a porn star desperate for work.

“Fuck, such a good throat,” he drags a finger up it as he forces his cock to the back of your mouth. He can feel the ridge of his cock through your neck and he nearly cums from that alone. “Taking it so fucking good.” He grips your head and desperately fucks into your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut and will your gag reflex away, let him use you as he sees fit. You egg him in with licks of your tongue as he thrusts in and out, and by the filthy noises you make with each press.

Saliva is dropping out of your lips, and his it covers his cock. Namjoon feels his balls tighten impossibly and knows he’s close.

“Does my cockslut want daddy’s cum? You want me to coat that little throat with it?” He keeps his pace and you nod through your tears. He grunts his approval and picks up the pace, only to explode through his orgasm soon after. His cock pulses as he emptied himself into your mouth and throat, and you suck harder as if thirsty for it.

He pulls it out a moment later with a sated sigh. “My little cum dump,” he smirks as he runs a finger over your lips. “Swallow it all.” You nod and visibly swallow his load, then hold your tongue out to prove it.

“Shit—so good. You’re such a whore you could drink my cum all day, couldn’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper. Your throat is rough and sore from his thrusts but you can’t find it in you to care, not even a little bit.

You remain on your knees and he puts a finger under your chin and lifts it higher. “Doing so good, angel. Making me proud.”

It makes your heart nearly implode. Namjoon is sadistic and thrills in your anguish, but loves you all the same. He knows you’re not just able to take it, but you’re desperate to take it. You trust him to never hurt you in a way you couldn’t handle.

“Still have more for you, little one. I don’t think you quite understand who this body belongs to.”

Your eyes shine with excitement and Namjoon can’t help but to smile at it. He uncuffs you and you look perplexed. He never lets you out early.

“Up on the bed, on your back,” he states as he ignores your questioning look. You know better than to deny his order, so you rub at your wrists as you move towards the bed. Your knees are still throbbing from the pressure and you heave a pleased sigh as you melt into the mattress.

“I wouldn’t feel too comfortable,” he chuckles. “It won’t last long.”

In Namjoon’s hands is red shibari rope. It makes your stomach flip. It’s been so long since he’s trussed you up and it thrills you to see the familiar smooth bindings.

“Thighs to your chest,” he orders. “Spread them wide, show me this needy little cunt.”

You do as he says, pulling your thighs up to meet your chest and spreading them open. He stares at your core, it’s dripping now. It drips down you and stains the comforter. Namjoon tuts. If you’re this wet already, he knows he will need to change the sheets after he’s done with you.

“Look at you,” he intones. “A dumb little slut, open and ready for any cock she can get.” He drags a finger up and down your thigh.

Namjoon gets to work. He loves the way he loses himself in the art of tying you up. He loves watching your chest rise and fall and the little squeaks that come out of your mouth as he knots you up. He loops the rope around the left thigh, then draws in your left calf to tie it in. You’ll be spread open, unable to stretch your legs out until he gives you permission.

He glances up at you every so often as he continues, checking to make sure he’s not cutting off any vital circulation. As cruel as he is, he doesn’t intend to actually maim you. You never show a sign of pain, just the glazed look you hold as your body gives in to your subservient intuition. It makes Joon smile and his heart clench in his chest. He really fucking loves you.

You’re soon tied up completely from the waist down, both legs tied together and spread open with pussy on display. Your hands are free and just as you’re about to relish in it, Namjoon is looping more rope to tie each wrist to a bedpost. He grins as you gasp. You’re completely tied up and at his will, and you’re embarrassed at how open you are in front of him, how dripping wet you get from being tied up and useless.

Namjoon is moving around and you suddenly hear a vibration and it gets closer as he approaches you.

“Gonna make you cum for me, babygirl... Gonna play with you until you fucking squirt everywhere.”

Your legs clench together as you notice he is holding a Hitachi wand in his hand. You know the power it wields. It brings you to your finish nearly instantaneously. Which means Namjoon has decided your next punishment will be denying you any orgasm and continually bringing you to the edge… or making you cum so much your cunt hurts. You don’t know which is worse.

He notices the look on your face and grins. “Yeah, you know what this is, don’t you?”

Namjoon places the bulbous head of the wand on your cunt and you cry out instantly. He drags it up and down your drenched slit and you’re already feeling so close to the edge.

“You better fucking scream, don’t hold back,” he orders. “Remind this whole fucking neighborhood who gets you off. Make sure Park fucking Jimin hears it.”

He stops rubbing it up and down and lets it sit right on your clit and watches your face contort as your tied legs struggle against the wrappings. It’s too much, it feels like you’ve been lit up. Namjoon gloats in your struggle. He sees your cunt dripping with increasing fervor, can tell you’re squeezing those walls around nothing. He can’t wait to bury himself inside you once and for all and coat your walls with his cum.

“You know you better fucking ask permission to cum,” he reminds you. “You better not cum unless I tell you.”

Your tear-streaked face is twisted in pleasure, in pain. You feel yourself unwinding, increasing towards your finish like a bullet.

“D-Daddy! Please! I need to cum! Please!” You’re begging harder than you’ve begged in your life, you’re certain. It feels like the string inside you will snap any second now and you’re holding off the orgasm as hard as you can. Without the use of your legs, you find yourself unable to slow the inevitable.

“No,” he states firmly. “Fucking take it. You can keep going.” He growls his words and watches as your cunt is helpless. “Little whores like you can fucking take it.”

It’s useless, you’re falling apart at the seams. You’re pleading with him to let you cum, legs now completely convulsing in their restraints. It snaps, the coil inside bursts and you’re careening towards the end. You whine and cry helplessly as your pussy pulsates around nothing and oozes out your arousal. Your face burns in shame as you come down-—you know exactly what you’ve done wrong.

“S-sorry! I’m so sorry, Daddy!” Tears fall harder and you’re gasping for his forgiveness, for his mercy. “I’m so sorry!”

‘‘Tsk, tsk.’’ Namjoon tuts. “My little slut couldn’t even follow her one and only instruction.’’ He removes the wand for just a moment. “You better fucking listen this time.”

Your body feels overstimulated. The pleasure is bordering on painful and you yelp as Namjoon places it back on your overworked clit.

“You can make up for it if you squirt for me,” he grits. “Maybe I’ll stick my fingers in this tight cunt. Always so desperate for Daddy’s help, aren’t you?”

You whine at the thought of him filling you, but it’s overtaken by the feeling of the wand back on you. It’s painful, but it feels so good. Your body is held back by one single tripwire, ready to snap at any moment. Namjoon knew that restraining your arms and legs left you completely helpless to slow your own orgasms. He wanted you to fail, wanted to punish you for cumming when he knew damn well you wouldn’t last a fucking second under the wand’s vibrations.

“P--please!” your whines are breathy. You feel as if you’ve just run a marathon and you’re desperate for air. Your entire body is singing with rapture, with pain. You feel a deep desperation to feel him inside you. “I need you! Need your fingers!”

Namjoon groans at the sound of your whines. It’s his favorite, when you’ve finally snapped past a breaking point and he pushes you beyond. The way you’re desperate, begging and crying for him is pathetic. He fucking loves it.

“Fuck, listen to yourself,” he comments. His cock is raging again, hard and ready to bury itself inside you. But he waits. He’s nothing but patient for you. “You sound like a little fucking whore. Are you Jimin’s whore?”

You blubber a cry and shake your head, feeling the oncoming orgasm approaching again. It feels even more intense.

“No! I’m yours! O-only yours, Daddy!” The simple crying is turning into sobs and you both can tell you’re nearly on the edge.

“That’s fucking right,” he snarls. “This pussy belongs to me. Not fucking Jimin. Not even you. I own you.” His words run cold through your body, it feels as if your veins have iced over. You’re absolutely under his spell and control, and you’ve never loved anyone more.

“Cum for me, filthy slut. Let me see you get Daddy nice and messy.” He shoves two fingers inside you, and curls them to reach the spot that has you reeling. He knows he’s made it when you’re arching on the bed and screaming through your sobs.

“G-gonna cum, oh god--” you’re gasping for air, greedy for it. “There, f-fuck!”

The orgasm that hits you is stronger than any before. It feels like your cunt turns into a vice and you’re squeezing around his fingers so hard it makes Namjoon hiss. Your body spasmed and trembled as you came, and finally Namjoon is rewarded when your cunt gushes all over his fingers, dripping down his hand.

“Holy shit,” he gapes as you finally return to earth from your skyhigh completion. “Dirty fucking slut. You did so good.”

Namjoon’s cock is pulsating. He’s sure if he doesn’t get inside you, now, he’ll shatter.

“Nasty whore is going to get one more. You’re gonna cum on Daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding weakly. You’re far gone, mind so dizzyingly high and body exhausted. “P-please, need you.”

He takes no care to line himself up or take time. He’s pressing against your hole in one moment and is buried to the hilt the next. You’re so wet it feels like he’s drowning and he throws his head back in bliss. Even after two explosive orgasms you’re tight around him, molding around each ridge of his cock.

“Oh, god--” he groans. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever been in.” The praise doesn’t last long, so you soak it in while it lasts, ‘’Gonna pump you full of my cum, angel-- f-fuck..’’ You’re crying and whining as he pumps into you. It feels so good.

‘’Gonna have you nice and swollen with my child, so everybody knows just who the fuck this little whore belongs to.’’ His thrusts are so powerful that it’s almost as if he’s trying to fuse with you, he’s no longer holding back any reservations. His hips bump against you as he stuffs you full, chasing his end. He drops a hand to your clit, knowing it’s battered from the wand but can’t find it in him to care anyway. He wants you to orgasm again, and he’s going to get it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be so plump and pregnant that everyone will know what a depraved, little bitch in heat you are for me.”

Impossibly, you feel your belly tighten and tug and you’re edging closer and closer to yet another orgasm that Namjoon will wrench out of you. You’re crying out, only able to whine and sob his name. He’s fucked the ability to talk right out of you, and you can only think about Namjoon and his fat cock drilling into you and filling you up as if his life depended on it.

Namjoon loves it when you’re fucked out completely. He can tell he’s close, and nearing closer as he watches your sobbing face, smeared with mascara, cry and gasp for his cum. He could cum from watching you beg alone, and now as he pounds into your juicy cunt he’s surrounded in pleasure.

“I’m going to cum--fuck. Gonna fucking fill you,” he hisses as he thrusts so hard it’s nearly bruising. His grip on your hips tighten, blunt nails digging into your skin as he lets out a loud and guttural moan as his cock desperately throbs inside of you. He keeps his power, but the pace dies down with each thrust. He fucks his cum deep inside you, and rubs at your clit punishingly. His warm seed jammed inside you snaps everything and you’re crying pathetically as you reach your high, walls contracting and milking him. Your vision is black and you only hear the rush of your blood in your ears.

It takes a few stuttering breaths to finally come to, and your vision returns to normal. Namjoon remains buried inside you and he’s panting just as hard as you. You’re both dripping in sweat and covered in your combined juices. He cups a hand on the side of your face and smiles at you as you both attempt to return to normal.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” He asks with a chuckle. He slowly pulls out of you and you’re wincing at the loss. You’re sure you won’t be able to walk, let alone even stand.

You nod gingerly. “Really fucking good.” you whisper. Everything is sore, and it’s a feeling you can’t compare to anything. It’s a burning ache that reminds you of Namjoon, of your love, of the trust you willingly hand over to him and the bliss he gives in return.

“Let’s run a bath,” he states as he leans down to kiss you, pressing his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. The Namjoon you love is back, the sweet and compassionate lover who cares about every single aspect of you.

“I would love that,” you sigh. “But, could we maybe untie my legs before I lose any more circulation?”

The both of you erupt into laughter as his hands work over the intricate knots. He winks.

“Needy little whore.”

#bts fic #bts smut #bts imagine #bts namjoon #hyungsmutsociety #ksmutclub #bts rm #namjoon smut

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Photo

ROSE COLORED GLASSES: PART ONE

SERIES RATING: R (cursing, smoking, alcohol use, violence, PTSD, and sex)

WORD COUNT: 19.5k (long boi)

CATEGORIES: boxer!Harry, gang/mob!Harry, 1920s!Harry, Peaky Blinders!Harry (?)

As the daughter of the most powerful man in Birmingham, there were expectations of Cicely King: an advantageous marriage to save her father’s business, for one. But Cicely had never been one to follow orders. So when she woke up after an accident in the home of Harry Styles, the illusive boxer, she took it as an opportunity to escape her life. What she didn’t intend on was falling in love with him.

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | PART TWO

a/n: IT’S HERE!!!! Cicely and Harry dropped into my head and have lived in there rent free ever since. strap yourselves in for a ride, my friends! this story is hugely inspired by Peaky Blinders, and i willingly admit that characters and elements of the story resemble parts of PB, including Cicely’s appearance (Grace). thank you @hsogolden for making this beautiful banner, and thank you to @bfharry @harrysclementines @stellarboystyles and @havethetimeofyourstyles for beta reading this, ilysm!

historical notes: i’ve got a couple of things to alert the public of for this story. 1. this story is set in Balsall Heath, Birmingham, UK in 1920 or so, and i did as much research as possible on the area, but it is by no means all accurate. imagery and descriptions of the neighborhood are largely my own. 2. Church Hulme was the name of Holmes Chapel until 1974, so it is used in this story. 3. The Magnificent Ambersons is an actual book that was a bestseller in 1918. you can read it here.

without further adieu, here is part one of ROSE COLORED GLASSES - come talk to me about it in my asks! pls reblog and share with your friends 💕✨

The cool spring air swept around Cicely like a cloud, the hem of her skirt ruffling in the wind. She was miles from home, the landscape around her having turned to just rolling hills of green, just the way she liked it. Here, she could finally breathe. At home, all she could smell was fear and secrets, while here, out in the open, she was anyone and everyone. It was just her and Joseph, her beloved horse, on the empty road.

Father had told her it was going to rain when Cicely pushed her way out of the house, stomping away from him in anger at the news he had given to her, but she hadn’t given it a second thought. She loved rain, loved being caught in it and getting drenched, not minding the weight of the water on her skin. If anything, it made her finally feel something, even if it was cold. In hindsight, she probably should’ve thought twice about going out so far in the rain, Joseph being a bit skittish as he got older, but now here she was, having ridden over halfway between her estate and the city, and she could feel the droplets falling onto her blond coiffed hair that her maid, Polly, had done this morning.

She sighed and looked up at the sky—it was grey and angry, the wind swirling around her. It was going to be a downpour, she suspected. Joseph stopped when she pulled on the reins, and she considered whether she should turn for home or find somewhere to ride out the storm. It seemed to be coming soon, after all. She glanced around and there was just open space of hills and trees, but none large enough to provide any sort of suitable protection. Plus, she was closer to the city than home, anyways, so maybe it was better to just keep on going the direction she was heading. She could stay with friends in town if need be.

So she dug in her heels and Joseph continued, her urging him to go faster as the rain began to come down harder around her. It was like a curtain, the combination of the rain and the dark skies making it hard to see very far in front of her. The water licked down her face, and her chiffon blouse was sticking to her skin, the one her maid had made her promise not to get dirty, as it had just been mended for the second time. But she could make no promises—it was her favorite one, after all. And now, it would most definitely be ruined as dirt road beneath her turned to mud and it splattered Joseph and her clothes. She held fast though, wishing now more than ever that her father let her wear the new fashionable pants to let her ride more easily because side saddle was simply not cutting it at the speeds she was urging Joseph to achieve.

All of a sudden, a crack rang through the clouds, bolts of lightening littering the path far ahead. But the sound was enough for her to tense and Joseph to whinny, his front legs leaving the ground, her hold on the reins slipping as she was thrown from the saddle.

The last thing she remembered was the sight of Joseph taking off into the rain, saddle empty and reins flying around his body.

Harry could barely see in the storm, the downpour causing sheets of rain to fall on the windshield, his vision completely obscured. So he inched along as slowly as he could without endangering his ability to drive—or the car, since it was a gift from Josiah—and kept the headlights on full blast. He was exhausted after a weekend of fights in the town over, ones that left his body aching in ways he preferred to ignore. But he had a pocket full of earnings and he knew Josiah would be happy with that, so he paid it no mind.

He was running through the fights, thinking about the missteps and wrong moves he had made, spots for improvements, when he saw a girl lying down on her back in the mud a few feet in front of the car. He slammed on the brakes immediately. What the fuck was a girl doing out in a storm like this? When she didn’t move as he sat in the car, surveying the scene, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was dead. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had been killed on a road, left there to be found by the next car.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of the car, lifting his hand to shield the rain from his face. “Miss?” He called into the storm, eyes drifting over her body. She looked well to-do—her blouse seemed to be some type of lace material that the girls he knew were always fawning over, skirts bright and recently washed. What was she doing out here, alone and in the mud? And how had she gotten there?

He took a few paces closer to her, and she didn’t make a move when he brushed the hair away from her face. Hesitantly, he leaned down, an ear to her mouth to see if she was breathing—which she was, to his relief. She must be unconscious, although he could only begin to imagine how she had gotten that way. But Harry wasn’t the type to leave a young woman in need, alone on a dirt road in the middle of a storm. So he bent down, slid his aching arms under her body, and lifted her from the mud, cradling her against his chest as he walked back to the car.

She fit perfectly on his back seat when he tucked her knees in closer to her chest, blond hair draped over the seat. He grabbed his coat from the passenger side and draped it over her body, her skin cold to the touch from the rain. The thought crossed his mind of where he should take her—the police, perhaps? Or maybe a hospital? But Harry hated both of those establishments after years with Josiah. Plus, if she needed any protection, in town it was best if it came from Josiah anyway. The police were useless, a bunch of pompous assholes too big for their britches, Harry thought. And a hospital, Harry believed, was where people went to die not where they went to be healed. So he decided to take her to his flat, despite the fact that the prospect went against most principles he was raised on.

Although, everything Harry did went against his childhood principles.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was green peeling wallpaper. It wasn’t a wallpaper she recognized, and as she came to, looking around the room, she realized this was definitely not a place she had been before. Her heart seized as she inspected her surroundings. She was in a wire-frame double bed, a red duvet cover pulled around her shoulders, a soft light coming in the heavy curtains against a small window in the middle of the room. Clothes littered the floor—men’s clothes, from what she could tell—and a rug sat in the middle of the room amidst the chaos. An ashtray and the butts of cigarettes laid on the bedside table next to her, as well as a glass of water. Maybe it was a stupid choice, but her throat was raw and so she took the glass, gulping down the water without a second thought.

Faintly, she could hear the sound of a whistle. Tea, she realized. Someone was making tea.

Which meant she was not alone.

Her hands dove under the covers, inspecting the clothes on her body. Everything was still intact, her green skirt and the lace blouse she had put on, every button done up exactly as she had left it. She didn’t have her shoes on, but on closer inspection, they laid on the ground next to the bed, but her stockings were still clipped to her garter at least. A sigh left her mouth at the prospect of some semblance of safety in this foreign place.

She tried to remember what had happened last—she had been riding through a storm after a fight with her father. Then, there was a bolt of lightning, she thought to herself, piecing together the memories in her fuzzy brain, and then remembered Joseph bucking her from the saddle. She couldn’t keep herself on, so she let go, knowing that was better than being dragged along. The last thing she remembered was Joseph riding away, her lying in what she believed to be mud.

Which would explain the brown marks all over her clothes.

Polly was going to kill her for the stains.

The whistle she had heard earlier suddenly stopped, and she heard the thud of something. Then, a soft hum of a song she recognized from the gramophone her father had in the sitting room. After a few beats, she heard the sound of footsteps on the wood floors, the creak of the footsteps growing closer and closer. Someone was coming. She was going to finally discover who had picked her up off of the road and where she was—hopefully it was some nice old lady and she was in their son’s room.

But instead, a boy about her age stopped in the doorway, a cup of tea in his hand, wide eyes at the sight of her sitting up in bed. His brown hair was tousled in soft curls across his forehead, and just trousers, a shirt, and suspenders adorned his body, his feet bare. His shirt sleeves were pushed up and she could see tattoos on his arms, something she had never seen in person before, just in photographs and magazines.

He was, she thought to herself as he stood there in shock, quite handsome.

“You’re awake,” he finally said, voice croaking in his throat. “I—uh, sorry, would you like a cuppa?”

Cicely considered the question for only a beat before nodding. He seemed nice enough, judging solely from his embarrassed reaction to the croaky sound of his voice. The boy disappeared and she waited patiently in the bed, flexing her toes to bring some feeling back into her limbs. She wondered how much time had passed—it seemed to be daylight out, so maybe not much time at all.

The boy returned, a second tea cup balanced in his other hand, his face more serious and put together than before. “Here you are,” he said, making his way over to her, his presence instantly changing the feeling of the room. Before, it was small, but not too small. Now, with his large frame and dark eyes, it seemed as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the space.

“Thank you,” she replied, accepting the cup with cold hands. It was chilly in the room, probably from the draft coming in from the windows and her skirt which was still a bit damp in spots. The tea, though, was delicious on her tongue, plain, just how she liked it.

The boy grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and pulled it over to the edge of the bed before sitting down, eyes darting between the tea cup and her face. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Cicely.” She took another sip of the tea before resting it on her lap. “Is this your flat?”

“Yes,” Harry said, eyes glancing around the room. “My room too—sorry about that. It’s just me here, so I didn’t have anywhere else to put ya.”

So no wife or family then, Cicely thought, filing the information away for later. It was interesting, a boy of his age living alone. He must have moved away from home and made decent enough wages to get a place of his own, she decided, eyes fluttering around the room to see if she could pick up on any other clues about him. But she couldn’t find anything. “How did I get here?” She asked after leaving them in silence for a few moments, the curiosity getting the better of her.

Harry placed his teacup on the nightstand as he spoke, eyes avoiding hers. “Found ya in the road in the rain. Cold as ice and unconscious, all covered in mud. Didn’t want to leave ya out there, so I brought you here—thought I could take you home once you came to and all that. Call your husband.” He added the last sentence as an afterthought, and Cicely couldn’t help but smile internally at the thought of him thinking she was married.

Which she wasn’t. At least, not yet. And not for a while, if she had any choice in the matter. “No husband,” she informed him, thumbs brushing over the duvet. “How long have I been out for?”

He pulled his lip into his mouth and Cicely didn’t know if she had ever seen something so enticing. “Almost a day.”

A day? God, her father would have her head. He probably thought she was dead after she didn’t come home. Although it wouldn’t be the first time she had let him think that, her flair for escaping after an argument a reoccurring personality trait that her father despised. Which of course, was exactly why she did it. “I hope I wasn’t a bother,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Harry shook his head, and Cicely studied his face, the sharp angle of his jaw, the high rise of his cheekbones. He had a bit of scruff around his lips, which looked soft and pink and she tried not to think about what they would feel like. Cicely didn’t usually pay men all that much mind—sure she noticed them, but did she study every feature on their faces like she did Harry? No. She was intrigued by him, the rings on his fingers and the tattoos on his arms, the way he licked across his bottom lip. And perhaps that was why Cicely made no mention of needing to go, or that she should call her family.

“Are ya hungry?” Harry asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

At the concept of food, suddenly her stomach grumbled and she blushed, embarrassed at the sound, but Harry didn’t even react to it. “Yes, actually.”

He stood immediately, wiping his palms on his trousers as he did so. “I don’t have much here,” he said, taking their empty tea cups with him as she walked towards the door. “But I’ll put something together.” She watched him, unsure if he wanted her to follow. She was a bit curious as to what the rest of the flat looked like, she had to admit. “Ya comin’?”

Cicely scrambled to follow him, her stocking-clad feet nestling into the rug by his bed. Her skirt was crinkled from sleep and she straightened it as much as possible before sighing and exiting the room and into the hall. When he turned down a set of stairs, she realized that what she thought to be a flat was actually a little townhouse. When she reached the base of the stairs, she found that the rest of the home wasn’t much—dimly lit, only one other window in what seemed to be a small sitting room and a kitchen. A table was pushed to the side, two chairs tucked into it, a plate with crumbs on it sat on one side. The green wallpaper from the bedroom covered all of the walls of the home, and when she looked around, she saw a noticeable absence of most personal effects. He had only one photo up on the side table next to the couch, of what Cicely assumed was his family. Next to it laid another ashtray, a pack of cigarettes, an empty whiskey glass.

At the sound of a plate on the counter she turned to see Harry placing a slice of bread on a plate and tenderly spreading jam across it. Cicely tried to imagine her father even entering a kitchen and she had trouble with the idea, while here was Harry making her a slice of toast. The thought was actually quite endearing, despite the fact that Harry had not once smiled at her.

“Thank you,” she said when he set the plate down on the table, grabbing the dirty one and taking it to the washbasin in the corner. Harry didn’t reply, so she took a bite. The jam wasn’t quite as good as what she was used to and the bread was a tad bit stale, but it was food all the same, and she didn’t mind all that much. As she ate, she watched Harry wash the plate, dry it with a dishrag, and place it back in a cabinet that held a few dishes.

He turned around when he was done, eyes trained on her with an intensity she was beginning to grow accustomed to from him. “I have work in a bit. Can I drop you someplace before that?”

Should he? Yes. Did she want him to? Not in the slightest. She pushed away the plate, and tried to figure out how to say this. “Would it be a bother if I stayed?”

Harry blinked at her a few times, his face finally changing from the usual intense stare that he gave her to one that was more curious in nature. “Is home not safe for ya?”

Cicely tried to decide whether or not she should lie to him. He seemed kind, generous, probably understanding, despite his inability to speak to her for very long periods of time without stretches of silence. Maybe he would understand that her desire not to go home wasn’t because home wasn’t safe, but because the life that was waiting for her was one she despised. So, she decided not to lie, but not to tell all of the truth. “No, it is. I’m just not eager to go back right now.”

“Oh.” Harry twisted a large gold H ring around one of his fingers, contemplating her words, before looking back up at her. “If ya want to stay, ya can. Know what it’s like to wanna hide for a bit.” Before she could request more information, he came towards her, snatching the plate and taking it back to the sink. He seemed to be awfully set on a clean kitchen, despite the messy state of his room. “You’ll have to come with me tonight, then.” He still had his back to her, so she couldn’t study his face as he said the words that piqued her interest.

Most girls would have probably requested to stay home, but Cicely wasn’t most girls. “Ok,” she replied, pushing back the chair. “Could I—uh—wash up somewhere?” The prospect of a bath sounded utterly delectable, although on second thought, she didn’t expect him to have a bath quite like the one she had at home.

Harry whirled around, eyes looking everywhere but her. “Yes. Um, there’s a basin in the washroom. Don’t have the water for a full bath right now, but…”

Cicely realized what he was so flustered about—he was embarrassed. Perhaps he had realized that her social station was a bit higher than his, that in her home they didn’t have to go fetch water somewhere, that she could have a bath relatively whenever she liked. And when she did it, someone else filled it for her. “That’s fine. I’ll manage.” She stood and made her way towards the washroom, following his directions, and shut herself inside. It was dark in there too—far less than she was used to. A silver bathtub was on one wall, and a smaller basin on a pedestal, a toilet in the corner. It was simple, bare bones, but she didn’t mind too much. Her father had put in running water when she was an infant, so she had never washed without it, but she decided it wasn’t too much of a change.

Quickly, she undressed, making sure the door was locked, and hung her clothing over the lip of the bath so it didn’t touch the floor. She took a rag and dipped it into the water, exhaling softly at the feeling of the cool water on her skin. There was some mud on her skin from when she had fallen, although she thought that perhaps Harry had washed some of it off—there wasn’t quite as much as she thought. A small mirror allowed her to wash the crust of mud from her forehead, and by the end of her washing she felt rejuvenated, even if it wasn’t a proper bath. Slowly, she slipped back on her clothes and considered for a moment the idea that she might need to purchase some more. Her clothes were stained from the mud, and she imagined she wouldn’t quite be able to get it out.

Although it would’ve been convenient, she didn’t imagine Harry had extra ladies clothes lying around for just this purpose.

She ruffled her hair slightly, the curls unfortunately having dropped for the most part, and sighed before letting herself out of the washroom. “Harry?” Cicely asked, turning the corner into the kitchen, where he stood, holding a glass of what she thought was a whiskey, a cigarette between his lips. “You wouldn’t happen to have a set of ladies’ clothes lying about, would you?”

Harry furrowed his brow before taking the cigarette from between his lips. “No—why?”

Cicely gestured at her stained clothes. “Mine are a bit dirty, and I wouldn’t want to wear them to your place of work like this.”

The chuckle that left Harry’s lips surprised Cicely in more ways than one. One, that he was laughing at all, for she didn’t find it to be a laughing matter. She didn’t want to make a bad impression to whoever his employer was, especially if she was going to have to be there. Second, his laugh was sweet, syrupy, one that rocked his shoulders, and made her heart flutter in a way she wasn’t used to. “You wouldn’t want to wear your Sunday best to my place of work, love,” he told her, tapping his cigarette in an ashtray on the table. “You’re fine the way ya are, but we can track down some clothes for ya tomorrow.”

Where would he work where her appearance would be adequate? But rather than question him, she just nodded. “Well, I’m ready,” she told him.

“Gimme a mo’,” he told her, tucking his cigarette back between his lips before heading out of the room. Cicely decided to check out the sitting room a bit more, investigate the people in the sole photograph in the whole home. She picked up the photograph and studied it, a man, woman, and young woman, probably a few years older than Harry, stood outside of a family home, a younger Harry nestled between them. It was curious to see him younger, his face less defined, an obvious softness to his facial features. But what stuck out to her the most was the uniform he wore.

He had been in the war. Of course. Her father had avoided it because of a years old injury to his leg, although she had secretly always throught he had gotten his doctor to make it seem more severe than it actually was. Many of the men her parents had set her up with, including the horrid one they were currently trying to force her to marry, were in the war, but when she asked them about it, they only talked about their medals, heroism, the beauty of France’s countryside. But she also knew most of them had been officers, their social ranks earning them a certain level of protection, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it had been like for Harry who had none of those privileges.

Footsteps came from behind her and she turned, dropping the photograph back to the table when she saw Harry in the hall watching her. He had changed while she was looking at the photo, a charcoal jacket over his shirt, a pin with a J on it buttoned to the lapel that she thought was a bit curious. He had a bag over his shoulder, and she wondered what was inside. “You were in the war,” she said, not acknowledging his appearance.

“Just like everyone else,” he replied, his response a stark departure from how the men she knew would’ve replied. “Come on, we’re goin’ to be late.” She followed him out, wishing she had a hat or a small purse with her at the very least, but she had nothing but her dirty clothes and scuffed boots.

When they stepped onto the street, the sight of a wide and long street, row houses lining each side met her gaze. They were in working class Birmingham, she thought to herself as Harry locked the door behind him. Most men would’ve made to put their arm through hers, but not Harry—he just began walking, letting her catch up to him, struggling to keep pace with his longer legs. His bag swung at his side as they walked, and Cicely took in their surroundings, the silence stretching between them. It was dusk and women were calling their children inside, the games of football on the street breaking up. Two young children squabbled until their mothers separated them, tugging their little hands inside. Doors shut behind them and Cicely snuck a glance at Harry. His eyes were trained on the ground in front of him, most likely adjusted to their surroundings.

He didn’t want to talk, she understood from his body language, and she decided in a choice completely against her normal mannerisms, not to push him.

Cicely didn’t know what she expected from Harry’s place of work, but it was definitely not a boxing ring in an empty warehouse. She could hear the shouts and laughter of men from outside, and she had looked at Harry with confusion written all over her face when they approached the warehouse, but she followed him inside anyways. The smell of stale beer and sweat overwhelmed her immediately, and she had to squint in the darkness of the entryway. The ring had some lights rigged up around it, some chairs around it, but it was by no means someplace fancy.

So this was what Harry had meant by her not wanting to wear her Sunday best.

“You work…here?” She asked, turning to Harry, who stood beside her, watching her take in the surroundings. He nodded, offering no additional information. “And you box?” Another nod. “Is this legal?”

That’s when he gave another one of his chuckles, and then under his breath he said, “Doesn’t need to be, love. Josiah McClemmons runs it.”

Cicely may not live in Birmingham proper, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know who Josiah McClemmons was. Everyone did. He basically ruled Birmingham, especially the working class neighborhoods, having built up his stronghold there. Her father complained about him at least once a week, about the violence and bloodshed in the city where his garment factories were. Although, Cicely had always thought to herself, her father probably shouldn’t complain too much because a dead husband meant a wife who had to work to feed her children, which meant a larger workforce for her father.

From the way Harry was greeted, Cicely assumed he was the reigning champion, the usual fighter here. Which meant that he was probably McClemmons’s payroll, if she had to extrapolate. “Do you work for McClemmons?” She asked when the few men who had come up to them walked away.

Harry adjusted the bag over his shoulder, and then nodded. “Could say that.” His eyes darted around the establishment, taking in the sight, before resting back on her. “C’mon, I’ve got to get changed and don’t want ya waitin’ out here.” He ushered her over to a man standing against a wall who wore a J pin on his lapel like Harry, which she now realized stood for Josiah’s name, a brand of who they worked for. “Tommy,” he said, the man’s gaze turning and settling on them. “This is Cicely. Keep an eye on her while I change?”

Tommy stood up straight immediately and when he took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it, Cicely couldn’t help but smile. “Pleasure to meet such a beautiful lady,” Tommy said to her, a wink gracing across his face.

When she turned to speak to Harry, he was already gone, a few paces away towards a door. “Is he good?” She asked Tommy, turning back to her new acquaintance.

Tommy’s eyes widened. “The best,” he informed her before taking a sip from a mug of what she assumed was beer. “You’re in for a treat if you’ve never seen ‘im fight ‘fore.”

Cicely agreed, the prospect of a sweaty Harry in the ring a bit more enticing than she perhaps wanted to admit. She was able to get some information on Harry out of Tommy, the combination of a pretty girl and a mug of beer not a combination meant for secrecy. He fought with Josiah McClemmons’s youngest brother in the war, the experience making them nearly brothers, and came back to Birmingham with them. No one knew where Harry was from, but people had a number of guesses, everything from London to Liverpool. Apparently before the war he had been learning to fight, and the war sharpened his skills, so when they came back it seemed natural that Josiah would use the rings as a way to make money, using Harry as his prized fighter.

She couldn’t help but think it made Harry sound a bit like the Spanish bulls she had learned about in a magazine, a caged animal. But Tommy assured her Harry loved it when she asked, so she tried to put her mind at ease.

“Who is he fighting?” She asked Tommy after refusing his offer for a beer of her own.

“Peters—a local bloke,” Tommy replied. “Harry’s expected to win.”

Cicely gathered as much from the grumblings of his name that she could hear when the betting started, money flying in the air. It was fascinating to her, and she thought that she also fascinated the men—she was the only woman in the room and she tried not to squirm against the wall she leaned against.

But then, she heard a cry go up, and Harry’s opponent came out of a door, trailed by two men. “He’s massive,” she told Tommy as she watched the man walk to the ring.

Tommy grunted in response. “Harry’s fast, though.”

She hoped he was fast enough. Peters crested the ring, pushing himself between the ropes. One of his men handed him some gloves and Cicely watched as he pulled them on, his massive chest glistening under the gas lighting.

All of a sudden, a louder cry sounded, whoops and hollers of Harry’s name, and her gaze flickered to the door she had last seen him go into. There he was, walking towards the ring, a determined look set on his face. Tattoos littered his body and Cicely realized the few she had seen were a mere teasing of the real deal. And seeing Harry without a shirt on, his broad shoulders and narrow waist, tanned skin in the light, she couldn’t help but think he was even more attractive than she had thought.

A man helped Harry into the ring, and when he stood up, she caught sight of tape covering where his nipples should be. What in the world? She turned to Tommy and pointed at Harry. “What is the tape for?”

Tommy guffawed immediately, beer sloshing in his mug. “He’s got ‘em pierced.”

“What?”

She expected Tommy to tell her he was joking, but instead he nodded. “Got ‘em done durin’ the war, apparently. Some dare from his mates. Now he’s gotta have ‘em taped up or they’ll get ripped out.”

Cicely truly didn’t have the words for a response to that. She turned back to the ring, eyes set on the two pieces of tape over each of his nipples, entranced by the idea of them being pierced. She had heard rumors from her friends of ladies getting them done, but men? Why on earth would they want them done? She had never understood it on women, but the prospect of them on men completely confounded her imagination. Although, her best friend had told her it made them more sensitive, so perhaps that worked on men as well.

The thought was tantalizing at the very least.

“Sure ya don’t want a beer, love?” Tommy asked.

She had grown to quite like his company. He was a bit crude, but for some reason she liked that he didn’t treat her like she was made of glass like most of the men she knew. Her gaze darted between Harry, standing in the ring, and Tommy’s mug. “You know what? Sure.”

Tommy beamed. He was overjoyed at the idea, and Cicely was as well. She had never actually had beer before, just sips of champagne and wine here and there when she snuck it from her parents or during parties. But nothing as normal as beer—she didn’t even think her father drank it, to be honest. Perhaps that was why the idea was so exciting to her. Tommy left her on her own for a few minutes and she tried not to let the stares that still lingered on her bother her. Instead, she watched Harry, listened to the announcer, some chap in a jacket and askew flat cap, read out their names and weights. The part about Harry being the reigning champion stuck with her.

Cicely had never seen a boxing match before. Sure, she had heard of them, but actually been to one in person? Never. And much less one that was definitely illegal and held in a warehouse, a bunch of drunk men betting and still in their work uniforms. It made her heart race and she liked the feeling—usually she just got it when she rode Joseph, who she hoped had gone home to her estate.

“Here ya are.” Tommy had reappeared, a full mug of beer in his other hand for her. “Got ya somethin’ my sister likes.”

Cicely took the mug. It was heavy, heavier than she was expecting. Would she even be able to drink it all? She stared at the murky brown liquid, the foam on top, and then up at Tommy who she could tell was stifling a laugh. Fuck it, she thought. And took a long sip. It wasn’t as bad as she expected. Sour, sure, but it was also refreshing. A bit heavy, and considering she had only eaten some toast today, that wasn’t a negative thing. “It’s not bad,” she told Tommy, who gave her a grin in response.

She was about to say something else when she heard a bell sound—she had been so focused she had missed the start of the match. Whirling around, the first thing she saw was Peters’ arm fly through the air. The breath knocked from her chest at the possibility of Harry getting hit, but to her pleasant surprise he ducked it completely, feet helping him to move away from his attacker. The crowd cheered and Cicely took another sip, the action of having the drink in her hand helping calm her nerves as she watched Harry dance around Peters, ducking at every punch. She could see the frustration in Peters’ eyes, and the focus in Harry’s eyes making her scream out his name along with the men in the room.

She could feel Tommy’s eyes on her as she did it. She didn’t even need to look at him to know that surprise was written all over his face. If Cicely was going to be at a boxing match for the first time in her life, drinking her first beer, she was going to enjoy it. And watching Harry take a swing—and make contact—at Peters was exactly the excuse she needed to scream his name again.

The match passed quickly, and by the end of it Cicely had reached the end of her beer and her and Tommy were laughing at the fear in Peters’ eyes as Harry’s punches landed. He was winning by a long shot, and she had to admit, she was proud. During the whole match she had barely been able to take her eyes off of him, gaze trained on the sweat dripping down his cut body, his broad shoulders and tattooed skin glistening. His hair was stuck to his forehead and neck with sweat, and for some reason she had the innate desire to twirl it off of his forehead and see what he did.

She also desperately wanted to see his nipples without the tape.

Desperately.

He was beautiful in the ring, his steps almost like choreography she had learned as a child to all of the dances she had to know for parties. Except Harry looked like a natural up there, his body moving before Peters made the move, as if he could read his opponent’s mind, his reflexes faster than anything she had ever seen before. She had a million questions for him the minute he stepped out of the ring, but the first thing she wanted to was clean the blood off of his body—blood which was a mixture of Harry’s and Peters’.

The end of the match happened so quickly that Cicely barely caught it. One minute, Harry was boxed into a corner, his arms up to protect his face, and the next, he was throwing a powerful punch to Peters’ face, the sound of bone crunching at Peters hit the ground so loud she could hear it over the men yelling in the ring. The announcer counted and she watched Harry’s chest rise and fall, his breathing ragged. Everyone else was staring at Peters, but her eyes were glued on Harry. And then, his lifted to her, their sight lines catching from across the room, and she could’ve sworn she saw him smile at her.

As much as she wanted to rush to the side of the ring as many people did, she waited where she was. She knew Harry would come find her eventually, since she was sleeping in his home, as weird as that sounded in her brain. So she turned to Tommy while she waited, her bones feeling light in her body. “He’s good,” she said, her words slightly slurring. Huh. That was weird.

“Told ya!” Tommy replied, taking her mug from her. “Forgot to ask you, love, how do you know our fighter?”

Her eyes trailed across the room to Harry, who she noticed was making his way towards them, a towel draped around his neck. “He saved me,” she said, watching his body flex as he moved. And her words were true, but in that moment she didn’t know quite how true they were. Only later, would she look back on the moment she met Harry and consider how he had changed her life by picking her lifeless body up on that dirt road in the middle of a storm.

Harry had fought the desire to look at Cecily throughout the match, and now that he was done he couldn’t stop. She looked so relaxed, leaned against the wall with Tommy laughing, her blond hair messy and her eyes bright. It was if his feet were carrying him towards her without a second thought, weaving through the crowd of sweaty drunk men in pursuit of the girl made of light. The closer he got, though, the more he noticed how she stumbled on her feet, how rosy her cheeks were, how loud she laughed.

Fuck.

Tommy had gone and gotten her drunk. Tommy might have been Harry’s friend, but that didn’t make him the smartest bloke in a room.

As he reached them, she took an uneasy step and Harry was there immediately. His hands fit around Cicely’s waist like it was the place he belonged, the lingering smell of perfume in his nostrils before he could clear the fog of his mind. “Ya okay, love?” The words slipped from his mouth, the pet name he had never called a single woman before just finding his way into his speech, as if his brain knew that she was special. He sure thought so.

Cicely turned her head, her gaze catching his and a smile broke across her face. “Harry! You were incredible!”

“Thank you,” he replied, gingerly removing his hands despite the fact that all he wanted was to hold onto her hips for the rest of time. “Tommy, did you give her beer?”

“He did,” Cicely answered instead, a hiccup escaping her mouth. She rushed to cover her lips, a blush creeping across her cheeks at the sound. “It was quite tasty.”

“I’ll bet,” Harry said, giving Tommy a hard look that Tommy only shrugged at. “I’ve got to change and get you home,” he told her, processing the situation here. Although he trusted Tommy with his life, in this moment he didn’t trust him not to give Cicely more beer.

Before he could say anything though, Cicely was speaking, her fingers brushing across his arm. The feeling sent sparks up his spine, delicate compared the touches he was used to, the ones he had just experienced. Her fingers weren’t callused, but soft, as if she hadn’t seen a day of work in her life. Which she probably hadn’t. “Can I come with you?” She asked, eyes on his, a slight pout on her lips that drew his gaze in no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

“While I change?”

She nodded. “I’ve got some questions about the match that I want to ask you.”

Harry glanced at Tommy who he could tell was barely holding back a laugh, a grin on his face that told Harry he would never hear the end of this exchange. “Fine,” Harry told her, the word coming out gruff. “Tommy, I’ll see you later.”

Cicely slipped her fingers around Harry’s wrist as he stepped away, and he tried to resist the immediate urge that came over him to rip them off, the touch something he hadn’t experienced in ages. The feeling of a woman’s hands on him was one of the things he had not indulged in when he came back from France, preferring drink and alcohol to drown the memories in. The prospect of one of them experiencing him at night, while he slept, was enough to make him frightened enough to avoid the concept.

So when Cicely touched Harry, even in the simplest of ways, it stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. Something that he hadn’t experienced since before his life changed, since before he saw men die in front of him, his friends lose limbs and call out for their mothers in their final moments. He had always thought that his ability to feel had died on the battlefields of France, but with Cicely’s fingers on his skin, perhaps he was wrong.

She didn’t remove them, either, as they moved through the throngs of men. When they reached the hallway that led to the room where he got dressed, though, he had no reason to let her continue touching his skin. So he wrenched his hand from her grip, as much as he wanted to let her touch every inch of his skin if she could continue to make him feel something again.

“I need to wash off,” he said when he shut the door behind them. “Wait over there.” He pointed to a couch in the corner of the room. Usually it was an office of some kind, but for Harry it was his dressing room. A basin of water sat on a table, cold and full, and he was itching to wash his sweat-coated skin. Surprisingly, Cicely followed his directions, and so he turned to the basin, using a rag to rinse off his skin, the feeling of the cold water like heaven on his pores.

“When did you learn to box?”

His head perked up at her voice. He could barely see her in the dimly lit room, but the outline of her was enough, her legs thrown over the arm of the couch in a complete unladylike way. “I was sixteen.” He surprised himself with his honesty, but in the room with just Cicely, for some reason he let a piece of his past slip through.

“Do you like it?”

The question had Harry pause. Did he like it? He cupped some water and ran it through his hair, the sound of the water dripping into the basin filling the silence between them. “It’s a job,” he told her simply. It was the best answer he had. He didn’t really have the luxury of considering whether or not he liked his job. It paid the bills and earned him a reputation that meant no one tried to talk to him, which was all he wanted. After France, all he wanted was to be left alone, save for a select few.

He was focused on his thoughts and the murky water in front of him that he didn’t see Cicely move from her position on the couch. Suddenly, she was there, her fingers dancing across his back that faced her. “Hand me the basin,” she said, voice firm in his ears.

Harry considered fighting her, but his body exposed him. His body craved her touch on his skin, and so he slid the basin to the side so she could reach it. The rag was wrung, and then she was brushing it over his back, reaching the places he couldn’t reach. He could smell her perfume, the faintest taste of beer on her tongue as she breathed lightly in his ear, the traces of jam on her breath from the food he had given her hours before. It made his fists clench against the table and he hoped she didn’t notice.

They stayed that way, Cicely brushing the rag across his skin, wiping away his sins from the night. Her fingers brushed a cut once or twice and he hissed, stopping her in her tracks. She halted her motions each time and wrung out the cloth with fresh water, cleaning the wound with a delicate touch he had never felt. She murmured how they needed alcohol when they got home, how she needed to properly clean the wound. It was something his mother would’ve told him, he thought to himself, a thought he quickly pushed aside as he clenched his jaw.

“Turn around,” she said, voice so quiet he barely heard it above their breathing.

And Harry did as she said. She had made him pliant under her touch, his desperation not to let her stop clouding his ability to speak. His bum pressed against the table and his eyes caught hers in the dim lighting, the gaze that passed between them making Harry stop breathing for a second. But when she brushed the cloth over a bruise, the wince that fell from his lips drew him from his fog.

The rag criss-crossed his body, covering the area he had already cleaned, but he didn’t stop her. It was only when her fingers brushed over the tape across his nipples that his hand shot up, grabbing her wrist and halting her movement. But her eyes zeroed in on him, a determined look in her eyes that made him pause. “Let me see them.” Her words were gentle, but firm.

That made him release her hand, and he sucked in a breath and she pulled the tape from his nipples, the air on his sensitive skin making his stomach clench. He stood there under her gaze as she looked at him, the bars through each nipple that he had gotten on a dare. At first, he had been embarrassed of them, regretted them because they hurt like hell and scratched against his uniform. He considered getting them removed, or just ripping them out, but each time he paused. Paused just enough to let the thought pass, and his best friend’s voice entered his mind. “Who gives a fuck, anyways?” And that was the voice that made him keep them.

Now, it was too late to turn back. He was a boxer and the moment he stepped into the ring with taped nipples, it became something he was known for. The stories circled, tall tales that made Harry chuckle to himself, but he never told the truth. He liked the mystery around them. They became a sort of badge of honor, something that set him apart.

But he had never experienced a woman’s gaze on them, and he couldn’t help but fear her reaction. Would she be disgusted? Ridicule him?

Cicely, though, just looked at them, and then up at his face. “What do they feel like?” She asked tentatively.

It was a question he had never been asked before, actually. And one he didn’t quite know how to answer, because after two years with them they had become normal to him. “They heighten everything,” he replied honestly. It was about the only answer he could give.

This seemed to pique her interest. “Can I touch them?”

Fuck yes, his body screamed, desperate for her fingers on the most sensitive part of his body. His gaze zeroed in on hers, searching her eyes for a hint of a possibility she would ridicule him. But instead he found just genuine curiosity. And perhaps a hint of desire. So, he told her, “Yes.”

When her fingers grazed the bars, her warm touch on the cold metal that ran under his skin, he tried not to flinch, but it was difficult. Her touch was like a lightning bolt through his body, setting every one of his nerves on fire. Holding in the desire to moan was one of the hardest things he had done, and as she touched the other, fingers curiously exploring his skin, it became more difficult. And then she whispered, “I like them.”

Harry’s eyes snapped from where her fingers touched his skin to her eyes, and he found her already looking at him. He watched her lick across her top lip, the flush to her cheeks and wide eyes that stared at him making his body boil. It was too much. He pulled away, desperate for space, for something to allow himself to calm down.

Cicely must have sensed the change in his demeanor, because she immediately stepped back, the rag dropping into the basin of dirty water. Sweat, grime, and blood all mixed together and Harry thought as he looked at his reflection in the water that a mixture had never described him more.

“Let’s go, I need to eat,” Harry said, bending to grab the shirt from his bag on the floor.

Cicely didn’t reply with anything but a nod, and when he had laced his boots she followed him out of the room. The warehouse had emptied out, just some of Josiah’s boys around to help direct the cleanup. Harry knew he’d stop by the office tomorrow to get his cut of the winnings, so he didn’t bother to stick around. Instead, he pushed open the front doors and led Cicely out into the nighttime Birmingham breeze of coal and horse shit.

Cicely awoke to the sound of someone moaning and talking. Her eyes blinked to adjust to the darkness in Harry’s bedroom, her mind taking a second to gather her bearings and remember where she was. Then she heard the sound, something that resembled an injured animal, the edge of fear and pain that made her skin crawl. Last night Harry had given her one of his shirts to sleep in after she said she wanted to wash her clothes and leave them out for the night, and the cotton material bunched under her thighs and she swung them over the edge of the bed. She paused to see if she heard the sound again.

This time, a scream ripped through the house, and Cicely knew something was wrong. She pulled open Harry’s door and moved through the hall, eyes searching to see if she saw anyone, but it was empty. And then she heard it again, and this time without the barrier of a wall, she could tell who it was.

It was Harry.

Her feet didn’t bother to avoid the creaks on the stairs as she moved down the stairs to where he was asleep on the couch. The only light was the faintest bit from the moon, high in the sky, and it was just enough to make out the pained expression on Harry’s face and the thrashing of his body on the couch. He was talking to himself, something about the dark and the word No repeated over and over again, his voice cresting in panic.

It was a nightmare, she realized as she crouched next to him on the floor.

“No, please, it’s too dark, please—“

“Harry,” she said firmly, hands reaching out to grip his wrists to hold his arms to the couch cushions underneath him. “Harry, wake up.”

His eyes didn’t open though, and his body only trashed more under her. She didn’t know what to do, how to wake him up. The only thing she could think of was how when she was scared it helped when she felt safe. She didn’t know what made Harry feel safe, but for her, it was when her mother held her. So carefully, she lifted Harry’s shoulders, trying to avoid his arms trashing as she did so. Once she was seated on the couch she tugged him into her, letting her arms wrap around his chest and pin down his arms.

She murmured his name over and over again, softly in his ear to try and rouse him from the dream. “It’s Cicely,” she told him, “You’re safe, Harry, you can wake up. Wake up, Harry, you’re safe.” With their bodies this close she could feel his heartbeat, the way it raced in his chest. What was he experiencing? Where was he? She wanted to rouse him, pull him out of it and bring him back to her, but she was powerless.

After a few tries, she saw his eyes flutter open, his arms immediately trying to himself free from her grip.

“It’s me,” she said softly. “Hey, hey, it’s me.”

“Cicely?” His voice was rough from the screaming and it broke her. It was raw in a way she hadn’t heard from him, honest and open. Nothing protecting him from her.

She could feel his heartbeat slowing already, and the thought put her at ease. “Yes.”

He didn’t say anything for a few beats, and Cicely just ran her hand up and down his back, hoping to calm him as much as she could. His breath was ragged, big inhales of air and deep exhales, but it was becoming more normal as time passed. “I—I’m sorry,” he eventually said, voice small in the room.

But he had nothing to apologize for, Cicely thought to herself. The last thing he should do is apologize—it’s not his fault. “It’s okay,” she told him earnestly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

That made him pull away from her arms, her skin immediately missing his. Her arms fell to her side and Harry sat up, swiveled, and laid his face in his hands. “No,” is all he told her, not even lifting his head.

She didn’t know what he needed from her in that moment, but she knew she would do anything. Somehow she had only known this boy for a day, and yet the sight of his pain made her heart break. “Do—do you want me to stay?” It was the only thing she could think of to help, and if it would work then she would do it.

But he shook his head. He didn’t want her there. And the last thing she would do is push him after what had just transpired, so she stood, the hem of his cotton shirt reaching an unladylike mid-thigh. When he finally looked at her, she saw that he noticed, his eyes falling to the place where the material ended and her skin began. She tugged at it, hoping he didn’t judge her—she didn’t exactly stop and think about getting dressed, she just moved. “I…”

“Looks good on ya,” he said, words reverberating in Cicely’s mind.

She stood there, as still as stone, trying to figure out what to say to him. No man had ever seen her like this, and she had always been taught that they shouldn’t. And yet, the idea of Harry seeing her exposed legs, her hair messy from sleep, her in his shirt, it didn’t bother her in the slightest. So she didn’t disguise the blush that she could feel in her cheeks, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Try and get some sleep,” she told him, and then she turned away, heading up the stairs and back to his room.

When she looked back from the third stair, Harry’s eyes were transfixed on her figure, gaze locked on her. For a moment, she held it, letting him watch her, but then she turned her head and went the rest of the way up the stairs, leaving Harry behind in the darkness.

Harry didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

The prospect of having the dreams again (although he got them most nights) and Cicely waking up again was too frightening a thought for him to allow himself to go to sleep. Instead, he ended up having a glass or two of whiskey in the wee hours of the morning, smoking too many cigarettes on the doorstep, and thinking. His thoughts revolved around Cicely, weaving in and out of the snatches of moments they had spent together—of which there were few—and the bits he knew about her. Which was very little. He didn’t even know her last name, where she was from, or why on Earth she was out in the middle of a rainstorm, lying on her back in the mud. He hadn’t asked, not wanting to make her uncomfortable or push her to talk, because he had this feeling that she was more than some spoiled rich girl.

The fact that she was rich was an assumption on his part, but one he felt was probably right. First, there were her clothes, which were nicer than any he had seen a girl around here wear, boots that looked like they were new, unscuffed. Then there was the way she looked at his neighborhood—as if she had never seen something like it before. When she had walked out of his room and into the rest of the house, he had had the fleeting thought that perhaps he should be embarrassed, and at moments he was. But as they spent more time together, he began to get the feeling that even though Cicely may not be used to the way he lived, she didn’t seem to care all that much.

It intrigued him, the way she looked at his world. The way she had watched him during the match, the feeling of her eyes on his skin something he couldn’t shake, the way she had adapted to Tommy like a chameleon, blending in with ease. The way she had slid into the booth at the pub last night where they had eaten a late meal, complete disregard for the fight breaking out in the corner, her focus only on him and their meal. He kept expecting her to fit into the mold he had created for her, but she continued to slip away. And he didn’t quite know what to make of it.

Or the fact that she seemed to want to stay. When she had asked him if she could stay, and she said she didn’t want to go home quite yet, he immediately jumped to the worst of conclusions. That her father hurt her, that something had happened, and she was running from a past as dark as his. But then he reminded himself that she had money, wealth, status. Problems like the ones he knew didn’t exist in their world. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to cast her in a mold of wealth and opulence he had read about and encountered on a handful of occasions, people who used people like him and tossed them aside when they had had their fill. But the world wasn’t fair.

He flicked his cigarette butt into the street, the sounds of horses and distant rumble of cars, clap of house doors as men left for work telling him that the day was beginning. It was time for him to see Josiah and pay a visit to Nellie, who he hoped wouldn’t slam a door in his face. Inside, Cicely was still asleep—he couldn’t hear any footsteps from upstairs—so he decided to dart out while she was still sleeping. With any luck, he’d be back before she awoke.

The walk to Josiah’s offices was a well-remembered one, the row houses, shipyards and factories he passed old friends. He waved to the children he passed on their way to work or school, and nodded to the men he knew from matches or Josiah. He lived deep in Josiah’s territory, a requirement for what he did, and as a result every man was on Josiah’s payroll in some way. They all knew when to turn their heads, when to lock their doors, and when to pull out their guns. It used to unnerve Harry, but with time it became as normal as the nightmare that plagued his sleep.

He knocked on the back door as he was trained, a nod to Cyril when the door opened. People congratulated him on the match last night, and he didn’t respond. They all knew he was quiet most of the time, knew not to expect lengthy replies. Before France, he used to not shut up. Now, he preferred to think rather than talk.

Josiah’s door was ajar, his ankles propped up on the desk, the telephone stand in one hand, the handset in the other. His eyes darted up as Harry opened the door wider, shutting it quickly behind him. Josiah never changed much—a mustache on his upper lip, hard brown eyes that only lightened if he had enough drink in him, lips that curved into a smile when someone made a very bad mistake. He wore exclusively charcoal suits, saying black was too common, and he wanted to stand out, and a dark blue tie every day, a silver pocket watch chain tucked into his vest. Josiah had built his operations from the ground up, a man of barely 25 years of age when he came back from France, determined to make a name for himself and protect the community that had been, in his eyes, murdered by the British government for a war they had no business being conscripted for. His hatred for the government ran deep, deep enough to line the pockets of the police across southeast Birmingham, especially in Balsall Heath.

“Alright, but don’t fuck it up, ya hear?” Josiah said, nodding for Harry to sit in the leather chair across from his desk. It was the chair where Harry had sat during many conversations, both good and bad. “Yeah, okay.” Josiah hung up, resting the telephone back on the desk and running a hand through his longer dark brown hair. He picked his cigarette up from where it was burning in the ashtray, and swung his feet off the desk. “Heard ya won,” Josiah said, finally speaking to Harry.

Harry took the offer of a cigarette and nodded. “Peters wasn’t as bad as everyone said.”

“Mhm. I’ll tell Billy that when I see him.”

“He was Billy’s?” That was a surprise. Billy had been on the rise in the neighborhoods bordering Balsall Heath, his power growing to become something threatening to Josiah’s operation. So for Harry to be fighting one of Billy’s boys was unusual to say the least. Josiah didn’t usually like to risk the fights turning into something more—at least, not when they weren’t meant to be.

Josiah nodded, pushing aside a stack of papers and resting his elbows on the oak desk. “Newer kid. I was promised no trouble, thought I’d take the gamble.”

“Warn me next time, eh?” Harry wouldn’t have had Cicely within a mile of the warehouse if he had known his opponent was one of Billy’s. The prospect of guns coming out while she was in the room made his skin crawl.

But Josiah just chuckled and stubbed out his cigarette. “Goin’ soft on me, boy.” Harry hated it when Josiah called him that, but he always had. So he wasn’t going to start correcting him now, even though he was anything but a boy. “Heard ya had a girl there.”

Cicely. He knew Josiah would hear, but he had hoped he’d have a bit more time. “Yeah.”

Josiah wrenched open a door, reaching around for what Harry hoped was his pay. He wanted to get out of this damned office. Harry tolerated Josiah for Jack’s sake, but in truth Josiah had always been a bit too much of a wild card and a short fuse for Harry’s liking. But he gave Harry work, so he didn’t let his feelings get in the way. Plus, most men were short fuses after the war. “Where’d she come from?”

Harry chose not to answer, and thankfully Josiah didn’t push. He knew Harry didn’t like to talk, and most times he didn’t push too hard. “D’ya have the money from Manchester?”

Josiah didn’t reply, just pulled out a stack of bills, crisp and ordered, and placed them on the desk. “Manchester and last night,” he said and Harry took it, folding the bills over and shoving them into his pocket. It was more than most should carry, but Harry was anything but most people. “Don’t spend it all in one place, yeah?”

Unable to help it, he rolled his eyes, the tension in the room lifting. Josiah smirked and Harry pushed back the chair, the thought of getting back to Cicely making him eager to leave. “When’s Jack back?”

Josiah pulled a ledger from a drawer before responding. “Sunday.”

Harry nodded. Jack had been in London since last week, working on some deal that Harry didn’t have the status for the details on. “Tell him I’ll come by?”

“Sure.” Josiah didn’t look up as Harry took his leave, shutting the door behind him and giving Josiah’s secretary a nod. Next was Nellie’s, which he hoped would go smoothly, at least.

Unfortunately, he was not so lucky. Nellie stared at him when she opened the door, hair swept up on her head, clothes disheveled as usual. She cocked her hip against the door and rolled her eyes at him before asking, “What d’ya want, Harry?”

It had been over a year since he had rejected her, and yet she still treated him like he had broken it off with her after months. When in actuality, she had been the one to pursue him, and he hadn’t had it in him to tell her he wasn’t interested until she tried to kiss him. To say the least, things had been icy ever since. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Clothes for who?”

“A girl.” To her credit, she didn’t react to that news with anything but a sigh.

“What happened to hers?” She asked, opening the door wider. He stepped inside, the sound of children from upstairs wrapping around him, the sound making his body itch. It was too loud.

“Mud,” he replied simply, looking around for something to keep his hands busy, but he turned up empty. “So?”

Nellie pointed to the couch in the sitting room, a bit sunk in and worn with love. “I’ve got some that no one picked up. What size is she?”

Harry sat down the couch, folding his fingers together. “About yours.”

Nellie gave him another pointed look, but said nothing. She just disappeared to where she kept the clothes she mended for ladies, and he had to sit there and listen to her younger siblings squeal and yell up the stairs. When she reappeared, she had a few things in a stack for him, which she set on the table next to him. “There.”

He looked at the stack, the fabric without anything around it. He would have to walk home with them under his arm. “No wrap?”

“No,” she replied, and he decided that she purposefully didn’t give him any. “3 shillings.”

Harry pulled the coins out and pressed them into her hand, taking the clothes and tucking them under his arm. “Thank you,” he said, and headed for the door, knowing when he wasn’t wanted.

“Bye, Harry,” Nellie said, and proceeded to slam the door in his face. Which he didn’t deserve, but wasn’t the type to protest. He checked his pocket watch—a little over an hour had passed since he left home. He wondered if Cicely would be waiting for him.

Walking into his home to find Cicely in his kitchen in nothing but his shirt made Harry stop in his tracks. While he knew he had seen her like this last night, last night it had been dark. In the dark he couldn’t see the lines golden curl of her hair, the milky white of her skin that seemed to go on for miles. It should be illegal, he thought to himself, to look as beautiful as her.

“You should put some clothes on,” he finally said, words gruff in the distance between them.

Cicely looked down at her legs and then at Harry. “I was waiting for you to come back, hopefully with clothes. Which I see you did.” She nodded at the stack of clothes under his arm and Harry knew he should move to give them to her, but he was frozen in place.

Seeing her in his kitchen, a plate with a piece of bread on it, an open jar of jam on the counter next to it, tea in his cup, it made him wonder for a split second what it would be like if she stayed. Like, really stayed. He knew that what was happening wasn’t permanent, that eventually she would have to go back to wherever home was for her. But having her in his home was making him realize that perhaps he didn’t like being alone as much as he had thought.

“Harry?”

His thoughts cleared and he jolted into action. He set the clothes on the table by the door and walked into the sitting room leaving her make her own decisions. Space, he thought to himself, he needed space from her. It was a push and pull inside of him—a pull that drew him to her and a push when he got too close. He stood by the fireplace, eyes trained on the black metal of it, as he listened to Cicely move through his home. Across the room to get the clothes, feet creaking on the stairs as she went up. When he heard her door shut he let out a breath, his body softening, tension leaving him.

The prospect of breakfast was enticing—he hadn’t eaten this morning. Porridge was what he had every morning, and this wasn’t the time for that to change. He shrugged off the jacket he had on, dropping it onto the couch, and headed for the kitchen.

When Cicely reappeared, the porridge was done and he was pouring it into two bowls, one for each of them. “Did you make me breakfast?” She asked, and his eyes drifted up to her. Nellie’s clothes fit her perfectly—a bit more snug on the curves of her body, but he wasn’t complaining.

“S’just porridge,” he replied and took the two bowls to the small table. He returned to the kitchen to grab his cup of tea, and he immediately felt her presence next to him as she picked up her own cup, left on the counter. Somehow he would have to get over the tension that raked through his body whenever she got near, but he didn’t know how he would manage that.

Cicely turned away from him and he followed her to the table, eyes trying to land anywhere but her body. She pulled out a chair and smiled at him softly. “Thank you. I’m not used to men cooking for me.”

Harry realized that him making breakfast for both of them meant they would have to eat together, that they would be forced to talk. The idea made him falter as he went to sit, but he forced himself to do it anyways, knowing that she would probably make him. “Mum taught me,” he mumbled, chair scraping against the floorboard as he say.

“Is that her in the photo?”

He knew exactly which photo she was talking about—the only one he had up. “Yes.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and dipped her spoon into the porridge, taking a bite. She was probably used to better quality, an actual chef maybe (he had heard rich people had those), but she didn’t give any indication that it was bad. Instead, she just took another bite before opening her mouth again to speak. “Where are you from?”

Harry didn’t tell people where he was from. It was a decision he made when he came to Birmingham, to leave his past behind him. The photo was up in his sitting room because he would’ve felt like shit for not putting it up, not because he particularly wanted it there.

“Harry?” She prompted, gaze fluttering over his face.

His grip tightened on the spoon in his palm, eyes on the food in front of him. “I don’t talk about my past.” Why did he want to tell her? He could feel it on the tip of his tongue and he tightened his jaw, trying to keep it from tumbling out on its own accord.

Cicely considered his statement as she sipped on her tea. “What do you talk about?”

The question made him look at her, her brown eyes already waiting for his. “What d’ya mean?”

“If you don’t talk about your past, then what do you talk to people about?”

He didn’t talk to people, he thought to himself. That was how he dealt with it. He only spoke to people who he felt safe with—Jack mainly, sometimes Tommy, Josiah if forced. They all knew his past, knew not to share it around. “Dunno.”

The sigh that slipped from her lips made Harry grimace. He had disappointed her and he didn’t like the feeling. “How about this? I tell you about myself, and you do the same in return. We each get a question.”

The idea was enticing, mainly because Harry desperately wanted to know more about her. She was like a period to him and he wanted to know everything that came before it in the sentence. Was it worth telling her about his past? Perhaps. “Fine. What’s your last name?”

Her eyes twinkled, a playful grin sliding onto her face. “King,” she said, that one piece of information rocking Harry’s world immediately. The Kings were as notorious as Josiah was, just in a different way. They owned dozens of garment factories in Birmingham, controlled a handful of shipyards, one or two coal factories. Harry estimated probably half of Birmingham’s working class was employed by the King family and he assumed properly, by Cicely’s father.“Where are you from?”

“Church Hulme,” he told her. “Who is your father?”

He searched her expression to see if she recognized it, but she didn’t seem to. And why would she—it was nothing but a small farming town, some local businesses and a forge. “William King. How old are you?”

So she was the daughter of the head of the King family, an heiress to a fortune larger than anything he could imagine, no doubt. He knew the Kings had only daughters, but he didn’t know how many, or if Cicely was the oldest. The importance of staying up to date on the lives of the King family was never something he felt inclined to do, but now it was vital information. “22. How did you end up on that road?”

“I went riding,” she said after taking another bite of porridge. “The lightning scared my horse and he bucked me off. I must have passed out when I hit the ground.” Cicely considered him for a moment before speaking. “Where did you fight?”

Harry’s blood ran cold at her question. It dredged up memories he didn’t want to talk about. “We’re done,” he told her, pushing away his finished porridge and standing abruptly.

“Harry, wait.“ Her hand wrapped around his wrist, catching his arm as he stepped away, and the feeling of her skin on his made him have to close his eyes to get his breathing under control. Did she know what she did to him? “I’m sorry.”

“‘m not talking about that,” he said, not budging from his position.

Cicely’s thumb brushed across his forearm, the thinner skin meaning he could feel the press of her fingers on his body. “That’s okay,” she said, voice soft. “Will you come back?”

Although he probably shouldn’t, he opened his eyes and turned back around. “Why don’t you want to go home?”

Her hand dropped from his wrist immediately at his question. “My father is forcing me to marry Clifford Stevens. Do you know who that is?” Harry shook his head. He didn’t exactly keep up with high society Birmingham circles in his free time. “He’s thirty and disgusting. He never even acknowledges that I might have a brain, much less that I’m a human being. If I marry him I’ll end up shut in his estate to raise his children for the rest of my life and I would rather die than sentence myself to a life like that.”

Clifford Stevens immediately became Harry’s least favorite person in the world, with the second being William King. To sentence a girl as kind, spirited, and open-minded as Cicely to a life as a glorified hostage was deplorable. “Why is your father forcing you to marry him?”

“We’re nearly broke,” Cicely said with a sigh. That was news to Harry. “Father has been losing money for years. He gambles most of what he makes away and because he’s a fucking idiot he never wins, and he hired a series of treasurers who are apparently inept at balancing the budgets. The factories are bleeding money and rather than take any responsibility for it, his solution is to marry me off with the knowledge that Clifford will bankroll my father’s lifestyle.” Perhaps it was the look on Harry’s face that gave him away, but Cicely gave him a weak smile. “Didn’t know the truth of the Kings, did you?”

“No.”

She fiddled with the cuff of her blouse as Harry considered her words. Was there any way to get out of her future? Probably not, unless she left behind everything that came with her name. Although from what she told him, it didn’t sound like there was much left. “Will you tell me about your family secrets in exchange for mine?”

His family secrets? God, where did he start. His gaze drifted across Cicely, her fingers brushing through the ends of her hair. What would she say to his answer? He supposed it didn’t hurt to tell her, since it wasn’t like she would tell anyone in his life about it. They were from different worlds, after all. “I found out when I came back from the war that ‘m not my father’s son.”

Cicely blinked at him, face softening as the words settled in. “What?”

“It’s just what it sounds like,” he said, leaning back in the chair and taking a breath. “Grew up my whole life thinking I had one father, when in reality it’s not him at all. My mum had an affair with some bloke and the man who raised me,” he spit out, hating the word father when he thought of him, “decided to keep me.” The feeling of her hand on his warmed his skin, but didn’t have the calm effect that he expected she intended. “Haven’t been back since.”

“Harry,” she murmured, calling his eyes from where her hand covered his to her face. “I’m sorry.”

It was the first time someone had told him that, now that he thought about it. He had told Jack, who said, Fuck mate, that sucks. Want another pint? And that was that, but he didn’t mind it. Somehow though, Cicely’s compassion made his chest ache, his throat close up. He could feel tears rising inside of him and he panicked—he hadn’t cried since France and he wasn’t bloody going to start now, not in front of her. “I—I need a second,” he said quickly, scooting back in the chair and walking into the hallway, leaving her behind at the table.

He rested his forearms on the wall and let his head fall on his neck. Deep breaths in and out, his eyes shut, struggling to keep his brain together as his ears buzzed. They didn’t deserve his anger, he reminded himself for the millionth time, they didn’t deserve shit after the secrets they had kept from him. That his sister wasn’t his sister. The man who had taught him how to play football, how to tie a tie, wrestled with him as a kid, wasn’t his father. His fists clenched against the wallpaper, knuckles hurting from last night, but the pain almost felt good to Harry—it was a feeling he knew.

All of a sudden he felt a hand on his shoulder and he whipped his head to the side to find Cicely standing there. “What?” He asked, not moving an inch, but just looking at her, trying to understand for the life of him why she was there.

Instead of responding, she ducked her head under his arm and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling his body into hers.

She was hugging him, he realized.

He was frozen, unable to move. He could smell the faint scent of flowers on her skin, somehow still clinging to her despite being in Balsall Heath for almost two days. The darkness of this place seemed to not even touch her, the light from her repelling all of it away. Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt loosely, but just enough to where he could feel her through the fabric, her body feeling impossibly close to him.

No one had touched him like this in years. And he didn’t know what to do, how to respond, how to act.

The only thing he could think to do was to lift one of his hands from where it was clenched in a fist against the wallpaper, and brush it down her hair. It was soft against his skin, the strands of it darting between his fingers and petting the rough calluses he had from years of hard work and fighting. They stung against his cuts from the past week’s worth of fights, but he didn’t care. The prospect of touching her was enough to push all of the pain away.

Slowly, she lifted her head, eyes finding his. She was sandwiched between him and the wall and it was way too fucking close, so Harry immediately took a step back, giving her space. “Will you show me your Birmingham?” She asked him softly, voice echoing in the narrow hallway.

“What d’ya mean?”

“The Birmingham that’s your home,” she offered as an explanation. “I want to see it how you do.”

His Birmingham, the one that he had made a home, full of people who knew him as he was now. Respected him, feared him even—because what was the line, really, between fear and respect? The prospect of her wanting to understand his world the way he saw it was one he had never expected, but appreciated more than he could say. “Okay.”

Harry took her on a grand tour of Balsall Heath, them weaving through the streets with children playing, horses and cars making their way down the thoroughfares. He showed her the factories her father owned, which he assumed she had never seen before, and he studied her as she saw the conditions of the workers her father employed. Cicely seemed to be everything her father wasn’t and he hoped that that continued to her views on labor.

Parts of Balsall Heath were more well-to-do, people who could afford to send their children to the art school opposite the public baths. But Harry showed her the parts he knew, the parts where people scrapped together money to make ends meet, where they relied on wages from people like Cicely’s father. He was thankful he had gotten her clothes from Nellie because at least at this rate she blended in more, although her nice boots still stuck out like a sore thumb. Although, he expected her being with him drew a decent amount of attention. When men stopped him to talk about a match and their children were with them, Cicely would squat and talk to them, not minding that her skirts got muddy from the unpaved roads. Harry had a difficult time understanding her when she did things like that. She was so unlike so many people of her station, and yet here she was crouching to talk with grubby children on unpaved streets with a pile of horse shit just a few feet away with a smile on her face.

For a second, he let himself consider what it would be like if she stayed. But he didn’t let that thought linger for too long.

They visited his favorite pub for a pint and she laughed at the barkeep’s jokes and charmed every man they met. Perhaps Harry should have been hesitant to introduce Cicely to so many people in his world, but at the same time he didn’t care what people thought of him. If Cicely wanted to see his world, then by God was he going to show it to her.

It was getting dark by the time they made their way back to his flat, bellies full from a roast they’d had at the pub. Harry watched her walk beside him, her eyes darting around the homes as they passed. “I like it here,” she told him, not meeting his eye. “Everyone is so nice.”

He couldn’t help but scoff at the thought. “Not everyone is. See all these houses?” She nodded. “In every one of them is a man who works for Josiah in some way. There’s a gun in every one of these houses for when Josiah calls.”

“Does he call?” Cicely asked, eyes finally turning to him as they walked.

He nodded, hoping that was the explanation she sought. From the way her expression changed, he assumed it was. Harry didn’t know what to do with her naivety, because it mystified him that someone could know so little of the world around them. Although, he thought as they rounded the corner to his street, he couldn’t exactly blame her.

“Does he ever…call for you?”

“Yes,” he responded because it was the honest answer. Even though he got to avoid a lot of the action because he specifically had told Josiah when he signed on to box for him that he didn’t want to get his hands dirty, it came with the territory. Sometimes they needed all the people they could, and with someone as skilled at fighting as Harry and the experience from the war that he had, it would be idiotic for them not to call on him.

They reached his house in silence and he unlocked the door before pushing it open. She stepped in, and leaned down to wipe off her boots. He liked how she had already made herself feel at home in his space, knew that he always wipes off his shoes in the entryway on the mat, because otherwise the filth from the streets ends up inside. “Do you have a match tonight?” She asked, moving to the side.

“No.” It was his night off, but he had one tomorrow.

Her fingertips grazed the table and he watched them trail, the thought of her fingers on his skin drifting into his mind. “What do you do in the evenings you have off?”

Harry considered her question. He didn’t know, really. The evenings all passed, though, somehow. Time was irrelevant to him since the nights dragged on, plagued by nightmares most of the time. He spent a lot of time staring at the wall in the dark. Sometimes he took walks. Sometimes he drank enough to where the dreams didn’t come, but that was when it was really bad. “Nothing, really.”

Cicely rotated to see him, the sliver of moonlight those shone through his curtains hitting her blond hair perfectly. “Do you do anything but box?”

“No.”

“Do you read?”

Harry hadn’t read a book since before France. “Not anymore.”

Cicely turned to his bookcase, which had collected dust from disuse. “Then why do you have so many books?”

“They make me think of my sister,” he replied, the truth shocking both of them. Gemma loved books, always had—she would be curled up on a chair all day with a book in her hands if their mother didn’t make her stop. When he was young, she would read to Harry sometimes, his childhood memories a mixture of fantasy and historical tales from his sister’s lips. Perhaps the books were his way of keeping her close.

Her fingers grazed the spines of his collection, dust falling around her. “Do you talk to her?”

“No.” He’d picked up the telephone a handful of times, ready to say the number to the operator. But then he’d think again, and set down the stand.

“I like this one.” Cicely pulled a bound volume off the shelf, her eyes dancing across the cover. “The Magnificent Ambersons.”

The name meant nothing to him. He bought bestsellers because he knew his sister did the same. Sometimes he considered reading one just to see what she would’ve thought about it. One time he almost mailed her one on her birthday. But each time, he did nothing.

“Can I read to you?”

Her voice was hesitant, nervous of what he would say. No one had read to him since the war, when his friends would read aloud their letters if someone didn’t get one. It made them feel like someone was looking out for them, even if they didn’t get a letter themselves. If it had been someone else, he probably would have said no. But it was Cicely and her voice was like his favorite church hymnal, entrancing and meditative. He would have listened to her talk for hours. So he said yes.

She directed him to lay down on the couch and he did, while she sat in the chair to the side. Harry lit a cigarette as she opened the cover, the sound of her tuning the pages the only noise except for the flick of his lighter. And then, she began. “Major Amberson had ‘made a fortune’ in 1873, when other people were losing fortunes, and the magnificence of the Ambersons began then.”

Cicely’s eyes fluttered open and at first she didn’t know why. But then she heard a shout and a long, deep moan from downstairs. It was Harry again. Her hands pushed at the duvet and she flicked on the light by the bed. As she left his room the sound of him moaning in his sleep, words she couldn’t understand reached her ears, but louder without the muffling of the door. She didn’t bother to keep her footsteps quiet as she made her way to the stairs and down to the first floor, her eyes adjusting to the dark.

A scream, blood curdling and filled with anguish, ripped through the house, and Cicely flew the remaining few feet to the couch. The sound of Harry’s scream, sharp and frightened, shook her to her core. She just wanted him out of there, free from the clutches of whatever demon robbed him of his sleep.

“Harry!” She said, loudly, jostling his shoulder to try and rouse him. Unlike last night when she had knelt by the couch, Harry wasn’t flailing around. He was stick-straight, as if held in a straight jacket, but she could feel his pulse racing when she pressed her fingers to his sweaty skin. It was almost more frightening—seeing him unmoving but mumbling nonsense in his sleep. The only part of him that moved was his head, ever so slightly shaking back and forth, a stream of Nos leaving his lips.

“No,” he mumbled, “please, it’s too dark, please.” His words from last night were back again, and she wanted to know where he was. What endless circle of hell he had found himself in and how to dig him out of it.

She decided to do what she had done before, and tried to lift his shoulders from the couch. But this time, Harry’s body was so tense that she couldn’t lift him, as if he had made himself a thousand pounds. As he let out another loud groan, she grimaced—she had to wake him, she just didn’t know how. “Harry,” she said again, “wake up, please. Please, Harry.”

But her words didn’t seem to do anything, because the next thing she knew his scream was filling her ears, the sound ripping at her heart. Her body seemed to move without her knowledge as she threw herself on top of him, her knees falling to either side of his hips, her palms cupping his face. “Harry,” she said softly, brushing her thumbs across his cheekbones. “Wake up for me, please. It’s Cicely. It’s safe, I’m here.”

Somehow, that seemed to rouse him, because his eyes fluttered open, his hazel eyes meeting hers in the dark. She was inches from his face, and she wondered if his sight was filled with her face just as hers was. “Cicely?”

“It’s me,” she said, brushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead. “You’re safe now.” She could feel the sigh that left his body intimately, her skin touching his in parts. That was when she realized how close they were, how completely improper her position was. She was on top of him for Pete’s sake. Her knees were on either side of him, their most intimate parts just inches from one another. If her elbows weren’t propped up on his shoulders, her chest would be touching his.

She scrambled to move, but Harry’s hands moved to her hips, halting her in place. Her eyes flickered to his, trying to read him, decipher what he was doing. Usually she had a hard time reading Harry, understanding what he wanted and needed. But now she had no problem. She watched him lick his lips, his pupils still blown out from the dream trained directly on her. When his grip didn’t shift from her body, but his thumbs brushed across the shirt she wore—it was his—and she knew.

He wanted to kiss her.

Cicely had never been kissed. Boys had tried, but they’d been disgusting, as had every other man she had ever known, and she had no interest in them. Until Harry, she hadn’t ever understood romance novels, the attraction people described in them. Every man who had ever showed interest in her had been boring, unattractive, and more than anything, just made her want to run in the opposite direction. But Harry made her want to race towards him at full speed, the darkness in his gaze and warmth in his heart made her want to know his stories, the way he looked at her made a part of her heart race that she had never felt before. He made her feel alive, as if she had been sleeping for nineteen years, just waiting for him to arrive.

One of his hands moved from his hip, inching through the air until his knuckles softly brushed across her jaw. Her heart was beating in her chest so fast she wondered if she was going to pass out again. It couldn’t be possible to go this long without breathing, right? Because Cicely didn’t know the last time she had taken a breath, all of them swallowed up in the look on Harry’s face.

She wanted him to kiss her.

Desperately. With every bone in her body. Cicely wanted to know what he tasted like, what it felt like when he kissed her. She wanted to know everything about him, to uncover every piece of him like gifts on her birthday, ripping back the pieces of wrapping paper walls that kept him from her.

“Harry,” she whispered, her voice one she had never heard before. It was soft, yearning, the encapsulation of everything she wanted in that moment.

He seemed to understand, because his fist uncurled, his palm moving to cup the side of her face. Slowly, his hand moved around her head, his fingers threading through her hair, the feeling of his callused hands on her skin alighting every inch in her body. Then, he pulled her head into him, his fingers on the back of her neck, delicately pressing at her skin. His eyes fluttered shut and perhaps hers were supposed to, but she wanted to see every moment of this—she wanted to know what he looked like when he kissed her.

When he did, his wet lips meeting hers, it was like returning home after a long trip, a homecoming she had been waiting for her whole life. Her eyelids shut, lost in the feeling of him, of the faint taste of cigarettes and whiskey on his lips, the smell of him that she had grown to look forward to when she walked into the room he was in. Fingers drifted from her neck to her hairline, and he lifted his chin, changing the angle, and Cicely fell into the kiss. Her arms gave out, elbows falling from his shoulders to the cushions of the couch, her body suddenly flush with his.

Harry’s hand moved from her hip to curl around her lower back, tugging her impossibly close to him as their lips parted and met again. It felt like there wasn’t a centimeter of space between them and Cicely didn’t want any. Their noses were pushed against each other, foreheads touching, lips moving in a dance they somehow both knew by heart. She pushed her fingers into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp lightly. A sound left his throat, and Cicely went to move her fingers, thinking she had hurt him.

“Do it again,” he mumbled.

Cicely’s eyes flickered open, studying him with her lips just a centimeter from his. He looked at her as if the rest of the world didn’t exist—it was a look she had never seen but one she wanted to see for the rest of time. So she brushed her nails across his scalp and slotted their lips back together, squeezing his hips with her knees. Under his shirt she could feel his heart racing, and she wondered if he was as affected by what was between them as she was. Because for her, it felt like her world had become Harry, even though she had known him for only two days. Somehow, he was her every thought and she didn’t want another thought to grace her mind ever again.

Harry shifted his head, nudging at her jaw and pushing it up so that her neck was stretched out. In rapid succession, he pressed soft kisses to her jaw and Cicely’s head lolled back to make room for him because it felt so good to have his lips on her skin. Then, his tongue flitted out and licked over her pulse point, making her squirm against him. His hands gripped her tightly in response, before ducking his head down, pulling the collar of her shirt to the side, and nipped at the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

A breathy moan left Cicely’s mouth, mixed in with the undertones of Harry’s name. It seemed to spur him on, because he opened his lips and sucked on her skin softly. It was a sensation Cicely didn’t even know what to do with, how to process, but she knew it felt good, so she held his head to her skin, urging him to continue. Which he did—laving his tongue against her tender skin in between nips and harsh sucks, and when she looked down and saw the mark he had formed, it didn’t bother her in the slightest. She just pulled his head up to meet hers, desperate to have his lips back on hers again.

His hands fell to her waist, clutching at his shirt that hung there. When he pulled at it, the hem crawled up, leaving her thighs mostly exposed to the cool air inside the room. But to Cicely, her flesh was burning from Harry’s touch and the cold air was welcome, and she didn’t mind that more skin than was appropriate was on show. She had a desire within her for Harry to see all of her, every inch of her skin if he would keep making her feel like this.

Harry seemed to not notice her exposed skin until his palms drifted downwards and gripped her skin, his eyes fluttering open and his lips pulling away from hers. “Cic—“

“It’s okay,” she whispered, brushing at the hair on his forehead. “I trust you.” And she did. She trusted him more than she did anyone else in her life, who had just let her down in a series of lies and cheats. He was the first person to take her for as she was, not demand her to be some prim and proper version, to show her the truth of their life, even if it was in pieces. It didn’t matter to her that she didn’t know it all, she knew enough. Enough to know Harry could never hurt her, at least, not in the ways that mattered.

His head bent, and he rested his forehead against hers, sucking in air and quick puffs. “We—we should stop.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, barely trusting her own voice in the moment. She didn’t even know what it was that she wanted, but it was everything, anything he would give her. She would take scraps at his table, if it meant one more moment in his arms.

Harry pushed her hair behind her ear, and then let his fingers fall to the mark he had left on her skin. She thought she could see a blush rising to his skin and it made her smile. “I want you to be sure,” he told her earnestly. “And I—I haven’t done this in a long time. I need…I want it to be perfect. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” It did, and the fact that he wanted her to be sure made her trust him even more. Because even though she wanted it, she had barely thought about it. Cicely was impulsive, and her impulses had a tendency to get her into situations she regretted, and she didn’t want to regret a moment with Harry. “Will you come back to bed with me at least?”

His breath shuddered, eyes closing. She could see the wheels of his mind turning, and she thought she had an inkling as to why.

“Harry,” she murmured, pressing a tender kiss to his brow bone. “Your nightmares don’t scare me. I want to know every part of you, even the dark bits.” That made his eyes open, his pupils found her in the moonlit room. “Will you come to bed and tell me about them? It doesn’t have to be everything, I just want to know how to help you.”

Slowly, he nodded. She scooted back, letting him sit up on the couch. Tentatively she pulled her knees up from the couch and dropped back to the floor, coming to a standing and taking Harry’s hand in hers to help him up. He was a disheveled mess, his hair standing in all directions, and she realized it was from her. She liked it, seeing the results of something she had done on him.

With his hand in hers, they walked up the stairs to his bedroom, to the unmade bed she had been sleeping in before. Knowing he would be hesitant, she got into bed first, scooting against the wall and turning, so she could watch him get in behind her. The moment his head hit the pillow, the duvet cover around his waist, Cicely leaned into him, wanting to be close. She rested her head on his shoulder and his arm cautiously wrapped around her, holding her to him. One of her hands rested on his chest, just inches from the nipples with barbells through them, the ones that she wanted to see again but didn’t know how to ask about. The bed suddenly smelled like a mixture of them, a new scent that she already adored. She hoped she didn’t have to go to bed again for a long time.

She brushed up and down his chest over his shirt, drawing light lines across his skin. After a few minutes of just lying there, Harry cleared his throat and began to tell her the horrors he saw when he closed his eyes. “I’d barely been there a few weeks,” he said softly. “It was still all new to me, the landscape of France, the sound of bullets in the distance, the smell of smoke and dead bodies in the air. We were in this open field, the only protection was an occasional tree, but we spent all of it in trenches.”

His voice was like gravel, rough in the silence of the room, and Cicely kept rubbing at his chest, hoping it would keep him calm enough to keep going. She didn’t want him to stop, no matter how bad it got. “There was this massive offensive in motion from the French, and we were a piece of it. We were supposed to take Arras, to gain a strategic advantage against the Germans, break the deadlock we were in. All of us were itching for action, something just to keep our minds from spiraling in those fucking trenches. I’d never really been in battle before, so I didn’t know what it was like. But god, the minute we started moving, when we came up out of the trenches and the firing started, it was like the world was ending.

“Everyone around me was dropping, partly from the German fire, but more so from the shells from the air. It was so loud—they don’t tell you that, how loud war is. Your ears never stop ringing, and you’re almost able to like, drown it out for a second? But then something goes off near you and your whole body is jolted and it draws you back to the Earth. And I was just trying to like, reload my gun, right? And keep my body from shaking. Jack was there, and he was telling me to keep it together—that’s how we met actually. He found me on the field, my hands shaking so bad I couldn’t reload.

“It went on like that for days. Weeks, even. We made it three or so miles on the first day, but we also lost so many fucking men. We had to figure out who was gone, and it was easier to figure out who was still there. We made it into the town and there were all these houses with no roofs, tanks covering every inch of the road. It was like walking through the end of the world. And you can’t sleep, but you also can’t do anything but sleep because it’s this bone exhaustion you’ve never felt before in your whole life.”

Cicely could feel the fast beat of his heart and his voice was speeding up, the anxiety settling into his bones. “I’m here,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder where her head laid. “I’m still here.”

His head shifted, tilting to his chin rested on the top of her head. “I thought I was going to die. Sometimes I feel like I did, on that battlefield. Everything I knew before that moment was gone. It was just echoes of the dark trenches at night, the feeling of rats crawling across your boots and the niggling feeling that you can’t go to sleep because something might happen. And the death...I think I stopped believing in God on that battlefield, because how could any God ever want that many men to die? And for what, a few measly miles that didn’t even fucking matter in the end?”

“How many did you lose?”

He paused before answering, but when he did his voice cracked as he said the number. “158,000. There were conflicting numbers, but that’s the one I heard the most.”

Cicely couldn’t even wrap her head around that number. What did 158,000 people look like? Who were all of those 158,000 people? Who were their families, their children, their loved ones? How many lives were changed forever by those days? “I’m glad you survived,” was all she could think to say. She didn’t want to say she was sorry because that didn’t really mean anything, did it? Not in comparison to everything that had happened.

“For a long time I wasn’t,” he said.

“What changed?”

His fingers brushed through her hair, tender, soft caresses that made her eyes flutter shut. “A girl who showed me there was still someone left inside of me.”

Cicely looked up at him, at the exhaustion in his eyes, the light bruise on his cheekbone from the fight the other night, the curls of his hair. “You know what I see when I look at you?” He shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving hers. “Someone who has experienced more pain, hurt, and loss than any one person should be allowed to. But who still manages to be kind, to be generous, to care. Someone with a life worth living, someone who is worth loving.” She reached up and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back slightly. “Someone who is worthy of everything in the world.”

She felt the tears on his cheeks when he kissed her, their lips molding together just like before. His hands gripped her face, as if he couldn’t have her close enough, and she didn’t blame him. She wished with every kiss she could drink away the pain inside of him, pull it from him piece by piece until none remained. But she couldn’t. She could only hold him and tell him who he was to her, that he was everything to her, someone she didn’t know was waiting for her out there in the world. But who now she couldn’t imagine a life without.

The days melded together in beautiful technicolor. Seven days had passed since Cicely had woken up in Harry’s bed, and each one made her more thankful it was him who had picked her up on the road. She stood in the crowds during his matches, cheering his name with Tommy and becoming less floaty every time she had a pint. At the end of each night, Cicely cleaned the blood and sweat from his skin with a tenderness he had never experienced, pressed kisses to his forehead and told him how good he did. Each night in the pitch dark, she chased away his nightmares with reminders that she was there, she was real, this was real and the battle wasn’t. He clutched the shirts of his she continued to sleep in and held her close, letting the beat of her heart and the exhales from her chest lull him back to sleep.

He hadn’t slept this well since before the war.

Cicely had discovered a new routine. While Harry was meeting with Josiah and Jack, training, or just generally out of the house, she went next door and helped teach the Rollings children to read. She had stumbled on Pippa and Clarence the morning after she had kissed Harry, almost stumbling over them in the daze she carried. They were playing outside and she had a book under her arm, a plan of finding the nearby park and reading for a few hours. But when she stopped and apologized, Pippa asked what she had, and at the sight of the words and Cicely’s description of what a book was, she was intrigued. After asking their mother, Cicely began to spend her mornings with the children curled up on their couch or at their small table, or even on their front steps, teaching them their alphabet and how to sound out words, how to form sentences and read them on the page. They were ravenous for learning and their mother was happy to see her children entertained by someone who wasn’t her for a change, so Cicely quickly became a fixture in the house.

When she had told Harry, he gave her a small smile, the first one she had seen, and a quick peck to her forehead. It was exactly what she needed from him, a vote of support and nothing more. In the afternoons she washed the blood stains from Harry’s clothes and towels, or carried water into the house and ran herself a bath, a task well worth it. One time Harry almost walked in on her and the flush on his cheeks made her almost let him in. But that wasn’t how she wanted him to see her naked body for the first time, so she squealed for him to shut the door and he did, none the wiser.

After he had told her about France, about the demons that followed him into the night, the secrets between them fell away. It was if a damper had been lifted, and at night when they laid in bed, he shared more about his past and she told him of her family, the life she was supposed to live. She tried to avoid the topic of the future, because it made them both anxious. It felt a bit like they were living in a bubble, as if the outside world and its pressures were nonexistent. One morning Harry brought up how they hadn’t heard anything from her family, and Cicely nodded in reply. She had thought about it many times, and she didn’t quite have an answer for it. Although maybe Harry was just so far from the expected answer that she would never be found.

Just as she was starting to settle into the prospect of her life becoming this permanently, her past came knocking. She was with Pippa and Clarence on Harry’s front steps, their own ones being swept by their mother. A book was spread open on her lap, one she had found at a bookstore for children, and she was helping them decipher the sentence. She could feel eyes on her, which at face value wasn’t something to worry about—people were always looking at her, at the new person in the neighborhood, although once they found out she was Harry’s, they stopped. But this time, the feeling of someone watching her didn’t let up.

So when they reached the end of the page, she looked up in search of whomever was so interested in her. And what she found were the eyes of a policeman, the black uniform and intent stare raising the hair on the back of her neck. She knew immediately what it meant, that this wasn’t some normal policeman, because the ones in this area normally didn’t pay her any mind. Josiah had made clear she was not to be trifled with the minute Harry had told him that Cicely was with him, for all intents and purposes.

This policeman, though, wasn’t from around here. He stuck out, the shine of his shoes a bit too bright, the cocky attitude obvious from a mile away. He didn’t know the people or the area.

Which could only mean one thing.

Her father had found her.

TAGLIST: @autumn-sunflowers @afire-hes @harrydobedirectioning @harryinsweatersandbandanas @vapingisntmything @frindgeyy @froggystyles @magical-mischief-makers @heslilac @ursogoldenshan

PART TWO

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x mc #harry styles smut #boxer!harry #boxer!au #1920s!harry #1920s harry #boxer harry #peaky blinders x harry styles

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