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sweetbuckybarnes · 6 months

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Who is This? - Bucky x Reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky had a wife during the 40s, she was left heartbroken after the telegram arrived (missing, presumed dead). It's surprising when 80 years later, she was working behind a bar in Madripoor of all places!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2

Bucky followed Sam and Zemo into a loud bar, he immediately wanted to turn around and go home, why had Zemo demanded he go back to being the Winter Soldier (even if it was one night)?

The sound of heavy drums and guitars also deafened his hearing, a song he had come to learn was The Wild Boy by a band called Duran Duran. A few bartenders and waitresses were walking around, there was only one who stuck out to him - a dark-haired young woman who reminded him too much of his departed wife.

His heart breaks even more, thinking of the woman he had left behind, his girl. The love of his life. Bucky doesn't think he will ever 'get over' her.

The way the young woman walked, carrying a tray of empty glasses (before being tossed an empty bottle by a patron), was so similar to the way his girl walked in the hole-in-the-wall diner she worked in.

She wasn't quick enough to duck under the bar before they got to the door leading upstairs (which was coincidentally next to the bar), Zemo was talking to the bouncer. "Excuse me, gentlemen," the young woman said, squeezing between the back of Zemo and the front of Bucky. Which is when he got a good look at her face.

There she was.

His girl. His wife.

He couldn't even say anything to her, as he was taken upstairs and away from his girl. He could only hope he would be allowed back in at the end of the night to see her.

Y/N Barnes made her way behind the bar, glancing up at the TV where the Kansas City Chiefs were currently playing the Buffalo Bills at Arrowhead Stadium, then down at her phone which showed the live score of the Dodgers game against the San Francisco Giants.

She had been a long-time Dodgers girl, even after she found out they had moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles.

"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Yasmine asked, pushing a dry Martini in front of a 26-year-old woman.

Y/N looked up from the glasses she was putting in the dishwasher. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"One of the men who went upstairs. The way he was looking at you," Yasmine fans her hand for dramatic effect. "I would drop my panties for him in a millisecond."

"Like you don't do that every night."

Yasmine rolled her eyes and served the next half-drunk who had come to the bar.

"Don't listen to her," Anastasia told her, rolling her eyes as Yasmine flirted with her current flavour of the week.

"It's not often I do, darling," Y/N replied, fiddling with Anastasia's curls for a second, before spotting a patron. "What can I get for you, darling?"

He hung off the bar, obviously far too drunk to understand what was going on. "Another beer and your phone number," he slurred.

She shook her head, reaching over and grabbing him another beer. As far as the boss of the bar (whoever that was) was concerned unless they were unconscious- why should you stop serving them? Y/N thought it wasn't right, but no matter how often she voiced this - she was shut down.

She set the beer in front of him and then went to the register to add it to his bill (good thing she currently has his credit card behind the bar).

"Oi, sweet cheeks!" He calls, but Y/N doesn't pay attention looking over at Yasmine and Anastasia with a raised eyebrow. "Sweet cheeks! I asked for your number."

Y/N replied by simply raising her hand proudly displaying her engagement and wedding rings to the drunk. It was only a small diamond (given Bucky worked on the docks before he was deployed), and the plain band she inherited from her great-grandmother.

"What's the matter with that 'un?" He hiccups. "He got you costume jewellery or somethin'?"

Y/N shook her head. "I'm going into the back for a moment," she tells Aidan.

Little did the drunk patron know, all those years ago, this was the date she was handed the telegraph - putting in such blunt words. Her James was missing, they presumed him to be dead. It breaks her heart that they never got to have a proper funeral.

"You alright, honey?" Elizabeth (another one of the waitresses) asked, she had been outside on her break. Elizabeth was the only one who knew her true age and about her James.

"It's the day I found out James was missing," Y/N said, before bursting into more tears.

Elizabeth wrapped Y/N up in a hug, everyone oblivious to the fact that Y/N's presumed dead husband was now running through the bar, flocked by Sam and Zemo, and into the alley behind the bar.

When Bucky was sure Zemo, Sam and Sharon were asleep, he slipped out of the safe house and into the night - determined to find out if the woman he saw in the bar was that of his (presumably? should be?) dead wife.

He eventually made his way to the front door of the bar, the bouncers had long since gone home. He could see lights on in the building and just about make out words being spoken thanks to the Super Soldier serum running through his veins.

He grasped the handle and gave it a push, the door hadn't been locked, as it gave beneath the slight push.

He could see three young women sitting on the bar, a man who was counting the money from the register and another man who was dancing.

The young woman sitting closest to the bar, had golden curls hanging around her head. "Mark, you didn't lock the door!"

The man dancing, Mark, looked over at Bucky, eyes widening when he saw the size of Bucky. "I say we just serve him, then lock the door behind him."

As the bartenders and waitress argued amongst themselves, Bucky's eyes never left the woman in the middle. It looked as if she had been crying. "Babydoll?"

The woman stopped giggling, tipping her head back to normal and looked at him, before dropping her glass as tears welled up in her eyes. "James?"

The curly-haired woman gasped, setting her glass down and giving Y/N a push off the bar.

Bucky held his arms out to catch her as her feet landed on the floor. He couldn't stop looking at her big eyes, he'd always loved her big expressive eyes. He always knew how she was feeling by just a look in her eyes.

"James? Is that you?" Her hand came out slowly, and shakily, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing in front of her.

"Hi, babydoll," Bucky smiled, tears starting to fall down his cheeks, a heavy sob held tightly in his chest at the moment in time. As soon as her fingers met his skin, Bucky let out a heavy sigh of relief, reaching over and pulling her into his arms. Y/N's arms dug themselves away from his chest and up around his neck before her hand soon started fiddling with his hair.

The couple stood there for a moment, finally finding their slice of peace. Some came barging into the bar, and the dark-haired woman who had been sitting on the other side of Y/N practically demanded Mark lock the door before the Hounds of Baskerville came in.

Y/N was so happy to finally have her James back in her arms, but there was a whirling sound she couldn't let go. "What's that noise?"

Bucky looked from his wife to his arm and back to his bride. "I'll explain everything to you later, but... I lost my arm, and I now have a prosthetic one," he tells her, letting go of her for a moment so he could take his glove off and show her the black and gold Vibranium one he had made.

"Ok, James. It's a good thing you gave me this," she reached beneath her top and pulled a ring out from beneath, hanging from a chain. "Before you were deployed."

Bucky smiled, cupping her face so he could kiss her. Bucky pulled away chuckling a little. "Babydoll, will you please put my ring back on?"

She reached behind her to unclasp the chain, and slid Bucky's band off, "if it doesn't fit we'll get it resized."

"I don't care what size it is, as long as you put my ring back where it belongs," Bucky almost growled, a piece of him falling back into place with the ring back on his finger.

The next morning - Sam, Zemo and Sharon came into the living room, seeing Bucky sleeping on the sofa (Sam was expecting this, after being told by Steve), however, there was a lump lying next to Bucky they didn't recognise.

Sam slowly makes his way over, gently easing down the thick blanket lying over Bucky and the lump.

Lying there, practically on top of the 'bionic staring machine' was a young woman.

"Did he somehow pick up a girl?" Sam whispered. Sam and Sharon were trying to be quiet - however, Zemo (who didn't care) started clattering around the kitchen, causing Bucky to wake up in a start, which then caused the young woman to look up with tired owl-like eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

#bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #sam wilson #sharon carter #baron zemo #takes place in the falcon and the winter soldier #this had been going around in my head for DAYS!!!#1k #2k

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thebestofoneshots · 7 months

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MARAUDWEEEN

Renegades | Remus Lupin x reader

Pairing: Remus L. x Reader + bits of Sirius x reader

Word Count: 6.8 k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, P in V, lots of praise, bit of oral near the end (male receiving) consent is sexy, lusty!Remus, childhood friends to enemies to lovers.

Prompt: As a part of the Maraudween Series, this fic takes you to an Alternate Universe where Remus Lupin is the Sheriff of Moonridge and you’re an outlaw he’s bound to chase after, but there’s a catch, you knew each other in the past, and the tension between the two is palpable, to say the least.

Maraudween is a Halloween-inspired anthology series where each chapter transports you into a distinct alternate universe. From the real world to old western Texas and even through the dark times of vampires. These standalone tales invite you into a realm of boundless potential. Experience the enchantment of Halloween as it weaves its spell, intertwining the magic of costumes, AUs, terror and spice.

NSFW (Smut under the cut) ♡

The sun was hot against you, almost burning the unclothed soft skin of the back of your hand as you stared at the long dirt road ahead of you. There was a man a few feet from you, tall, broad chest, handsome. The Sheriff of Moonridge, Moony, as Sirius would call him, just to spite the man. Or… The Wolf, like most criminals, knew him.

Things didn’t go awry on his watch, Moonridge was the safest town in the west and it was because they had a protecting Wolf against all the bandits that even dared get close enough. No one had managed to cause havoc in his town. No one except yourself.

His hand was on his hostler, so was yours, you could see his grip tightening in the distance, a warning, telling you he was ready, telling you he was faster, telling you you’d be gone in an instant if he took it out. He was the fastest gunsIinger of the West. You smiled, placing your own hand on your own hostler, because it didn’t matter if he was faster, not today at least.

3 seconds passed, he was looking at the way you smiled when a horse barged in from the side. Sirius and Firebolt. Your smile grew wider as the man on the horse extended his hand and hauled you over it, zigzagging his way towards the Sheriff.

“Took you long enough,” you huffed.

Sirius looked back and flashed you a smile as he bit his lip “Saw this beauty,” He said as he raised one of his hands up to your face, there was a small gold ring on his pinky, contrasting against the rest of silver rings he wore “Had to get it for my favourite outlaw.”

“You’re not gonna appease me with a little trinket.”

He pouted “Come on baby, you really think I only got one little trinket?” he asked as he nodded to the thick bag that hung from his belt “I’d get you the entire jewellery if that’s what you wanted.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, pulling out his gun and firing a warning shot against the Sheriff's feet even in the horse, you had one hell of an aim. That’s how Sirius had discovered you and hauled you into the life of an outlaw after your parents passed away and your uncle was ready to sell you to an old man in exchange for a piece of land.

When you were about to pass next to the man, you put the gun back on Sirius’ hostler and placed your hand on his shoulder, “What are you…?” he started to ask, but shut his mouth when he noticed.

You had leaned down and taken the Sheriff’s hat from his head, and placed it on yours “Thanks Sheriff,” you said in a cocksure tone, a mocking smile and a wink before taking the gun from Sirius again and shooting another warning shot. A few more horses had gathered around you, the rest of the gang.

“Just shoot him somewhere Fox!” Barty said as he got slightly close.

“Oh, but Sheriff Moons is the only one that puts up a fight, it will be boring if he’s gone,” you responded with a pout.

“Why the hat?” asked Sirius, he looked to you over his shoulder before turning back ahead, you could hear the hooves clicking against the ground, approaching your group fast. You turned around and saw the Sheriff, chasing after you on his massive steed, a gift from the bankers after he stopped a robbery, if the rumours were true.

“A little souvenir,” you said with a shrug as you turned around and waved at the Sheriff, hoisting your own gun out and shooting at the side of a light post, causing it to fall down on the floor, a few metres ahead of the man.

“You missed,” teased Crouch. You just smiled, the kerosene from the broken street lamp was on the floor, slipping through the sides and making almost the perfect line, you shot at that this time around and the fire started ablaze.

“You were saying?” you asked your friend, he gave you an approving look. There was a reason you had been made a member of The Marauders, and it wasn’t just to be the leader’s little plaything as some other bands assumed.

Regardless of the fire, the Sheriff’s horse had no fear, and jumped over it, still trailing close behind, “Prongs, you got the timing right still, correct?” Sirius asked.

James nodded, he was Sirius’ best friend, and one of the minds behind the plan of this heist, “Of course,” he said and Sirius tightened his grip on the reins and spurred Firebolt.

Things were getting faster, you kept shooting at things to deter the Sheriff from following, but he was just as relentless as your gang, and followed behind the three of you. “It’s coming,” you said when you heard the whistle of the train. The chug-chug of it would have been enough to deter any horse, but you had trained yours well.

When the train was about to reach the spot you walked through, the horses jumped, to the other side of the tracks, your hat –Remus hat– almost flew off your head, but you managed to hold it with one hand while you used the other to grab onto Sirius and avoid falling of the horse yourself. Once Crouch, the last one to cross made it, the train passed right in front of you, making the perfect wall, in between you and the sheriff.

But that wasn’t the end of the plan, there was a chirping sound from a few carts back and suddenly a side of the train fell open, inside waited for you the rest of the gang. Peter, the mousy guy nicknamed Wormtail and Evan, Bartie's lover. The second guy was a lot more on the peaceful side, but when Barty joined he clarified that he came as a package. Either Evan came with him or he continued by himself, the way he always had been.

James and Sirius agreed, and he was glad he did, since it was thanks to that, that they had another master planner in the team. All the horses jumped up the ramp and into the train, and Evan and Wormy quickly picked the latch up and closed the cart. You smiled and looked at Sirius, a shine in your eyes that let him know exactly what you wanted, “Was it perhaps dangerous?” Yes. But Sirius already knew you found a thrill for danger when he recruited you. He also knew you ended up in a better mood when he indulged you.

You gave him a wink and went to the door of the wagon and opened it with a rather strong pull, slipping out only partially, the Sheriff, had been shocked when the train passed and there was no one left, being stunned by the magic of it before realising you’d somehow gotten on the train and chasing behind. He was a few blocks back, and you smiled, pulling off the hat in a small nod and waving to him with it “Thanks for the souvenir,” you shouted. He pulled his gun and aimed a shot, but you moved to the side and he missed by the hair, you were expecting it. You gave the man a pout as he aimed again, but Sirius was faster, pulling you inside and shutting the door before the second shot even reached the cart.

“You’re absolutely insane,” Evan said in disbelief.

You shrugged “I like to think I’m fun.” You then placed the hat back in your head “What do we think?” you asked with a smile “Nice souvenir, right?”

“It’s rather elegant,” agreed Barty.

“How long are we staying?” Sirius asked Evan.

“12 more minutes,” the blonde responded as he checked his pocket watch, “then we’re out and ride towards Hideout 6.”

You smiled and hummed “I love Hideout 6.”

Barty almost rolled his eyes, he knew why you liked it, he liked it for the same reason. It was big, it had comfortable beds and private rooms. He just didn’t like when Sirius and you were too loud.

A few minutes later, you heard a clock chime and James spoke “Time to get down.”

Peter rode with him, while Evan got on Barty’s horse. You, as you had done earlier, mounted Firebolt along Sirius. They opened the ramp and you all rode down and towards the hideout. In less than half an hour, you’d already gotten there. Evan checked the traps, to make sure no one had sneaked inside while you were gone and you all got in. You took a piece of dried jerky to snack on and walked upstairs, Sirius and the rest stayed, splitting the plunder. While on a normal gang, you wouldn’t trust them to do it evenly without you, you knew Sirius and James would never allow such scheming inside the Marauders. More than a team, the group was like a family.

You were lying on the bed, the sheriff’s hat over your head blocking out the light when you heard a knock on the door “Who?”

“The love of your life,” he responded, you rolled your eyes but mumbled something that sounded close to “come in”, not that it had been necessary, Sirius was already walking inside. “I see you’ve kept the hat,” he said before sitting beside you, turning the bag he’d hold onto and letting the contents fall on the bed.

You took it from your head and sat down beside him, to take a peek at what he’d kept, “Smells nice,” you said pointing at the hat dismissively. Sirius took the hat to his nose, and it really did smell nice. While most cowboys’ hats smelled like nothing more than sweat, this one had a rather distinctive and pleasant aroma, most likely from whatever grooming products the owner used “We should ask him what cologne he’s using now.”

Sirius sighed “You miss him, do you not?”

You shrugged, ignoring the question “We’ve picked very different paths to his own,” you said simply, a tone that let Sirius know that you did not want to talk about it. But after all, it had also been why you never shot him directly.

You all knew The Wolf of Moonridge, except you knew him as Remus.

Sirius traced his finger over your clothed thigh, and you gave him a soft smile, one that contrasted with whatever mask it was you wore when you stepped outside the hideouts and onto a raid. One that only he and maybe James were allowed to see, he loved it. And then gave you a similar face in return. He grabbed onto your hand and pulled it towards his, taking the ring from his small finger and slipping it onto your ring one. Sirius had always had relatively thin fingers, even for a man.

You extended your hand with a half smile and looked at it, turning it around swiftly as you stared “Looks good on me, doesn’t it?”

“Anything looks beautiful on you,” he said, and then smirked “In fact, nothing looks better on you.”

You gave him a rather incredulous look with his suggestive little tone, he pulled you by the hips on top of him, the rest of the gems and jewels he had stolen already forgotten on the bed as he pulled you into a heated kiss. You were already halfway removing the buttons of his shirt when there was a rather urgent knock on the door.

You both ignored it, and went back to kissing, but the person persisted, both of you separated from each other and looked at the door “What?” you said at the same time, annoyance laced in your tone.

“We’ve been found out. Moony followed us somehow.”

“What?!” You asked with a frown “Not Hideout 6!” you whined.

“That clever son of a bitch,” Sirius huffed “Alright luv,” he said, his hand patting your leg “Time for some action,” he added with a half smile.

You hummed in response. As Sirius stood up, you grabbed the bag and threw all the jewels inside, fastening it to your belt before putting your boots on, “Hey babe?” He hummed, “Don’t you think Sheriff Moons grew up rather handsome?”

Sirius threw you a look “He grew up fine,” he responded.

“Aye he did,” you said. “If it were a different situation, perhaps we could drag him to our bed.”

He looked at you, eyes narrowing “You want to drag him to your bed, don’t you?”

You shrugged, putting on the sheriff’s hat again “He smells really nice.”

Sirius laughed at the silly innocent smile you were giving him after hearing such a request “If anyone can convince him, it’s definitely you darling…” He dragged you by the waist and placed another kiss on your lips, taking some time to smell the sides of your face, exactly where you had placed the hat earlier “You’re right, he does.”

When you separated you smiled up at him, and then you heard a gunshot, “I hope he doesn’t fucking ruin hideout 6 for everyone,” you said with a huff as you took a кnife and placed your gun in your hostler. Sirius grabbed you by the waist again, pulling you to him. Your eyes shone with lust at the instructions he whispered into your ear, “And that would work?” you asked, turning to him with a shrewd look.

“Don’t overestimate your abilities, darling,” he told you with a wink and nodded, a sly smirk forming on your face as you both placed yourselves on each side of the door. Sirius opened it carefully, the gunshots still going off in the distance.

There was a moment of heavy breathing as the door opened completely, and then Sirius leaned over the frame, only letting a little of his head out as he searched for signs of someone. He pulled back and nodded. The two of you stepped out, guns held high as you walked down the stairs.

Midway down, you heard a gunshot, the bullet biting onto the wood of the railling and spluttering to the side. You looked around, they were shooting from the outside, Barty and Evan were shooting from one of the windows while Peter and James were on the sides of the front door, the hinges had been torn apart by a gunslinger with surprising accuracy and the door was currently laying on the floor.

“Well there goes hideout six,” you mumbled “How many?”

“At least 6 of them,” Barty responded.

“Sheriff’s with them,” James warned.

You took a deep breath but nodded looking at Sirius and tilted your head just a little “Andromeda's Strategy?”

Sirius took a second to process your suggestion and nodded in response “We’re doing Andromeda, get ready.”

You smiled, in seconds the boys were shooting and both you and Sirius finished walking down the stairs and into a more secluded area. You walked to the side of the house and used a lighter to turn on a long fuse that was connected to the garden with an underground pipe. “Ears!” you shouted, and everyone placed their hands over their own.

3…2…1… Boom!

The explosion caused some of the men to fall back and then started emitting a good deal of smoke. You didn’t say a thing, everyone knew what they had to do. Sirius mounted Firebolt and offered you his hand, but you shook your head “I’m taking his horse, he’ll have to follow.”

Sirius gave you an incredulous look, and then smiled proudly “I’ll see you at our spot later, deal?”

You nodded with a little smirk as you bit your lip. “If things go as planned, we’ll definitely have fun.”

Sirius winked at you and started riding away. You took that as your sign and went through the smoke. The others were still distracted enough not to notice you when you walked behind them, uniting most of their horses and firing a shot just next to them to scare them away. You mounted Moony’s horse and let the last one free, but you didn’t prompt it to run, after all, Remus would have to find a way to follow you.

Once some of the smoke dissipated, you made sure Remus saw you, pulling the horse back a little to make him stand on his back legs for just a second before riding away. The boys were already riding in all sorts of directions, all different to your own and the men didn’t know who to follow behind, until Remus gave them orders.

He’s certainly good at giving orders, you thought as you waved at him with a taunting smile on your face. One of his men, a short, disagreeable-looking dude pointed his gun at you, and you stared at him, you knew he was a bad shot from the sole way he stood, legs wobbling and posture askew, poor dude, it might have been his first day. He fired the shot, but Remus pushed him away before he tried again “Not at my horse,” he said sternly.

You smiled “Yeah, not at his horse,” you repeated and rode off. Remus mounted the only horse left and indicated the others to follow behind the trial of the rest of the marauders.

“She’s the best shot in the county boss, it’s a bad idea to go alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Remus said, offering no further explanation before following behind you.

You both sped through the desert, it didn’t take him that long to catch up with you “Darling, I’m gonna need you to give back my horse and my hat,” he shouted, as he levelled with you.

“And surrender like that?” you asked with a pout “That wouldn’t be fun Remus,” you said before spurring the horse, leaving Moony behind.

Eventually, when you lost sight of him, you walked inside a small abandoned-looking little house, where you used to live before your family passed away. You walked inside and waited, you started to get bored at some point and went to rummage through the kitchen. You heard the creak of a floorboard and then someone was hauling you from the back, a кnife at your throat and a strong arm pressing you against his chest with enough force to keep you there but not enough to hurt you.

You pulled your hips back against his “Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?”

He tightened his grip, кnife prickling at the tender skin of your neck “Come on… why do you do this?” he asked.

“Because it’s fun Moons,” you replied as you felt the кnife pierce just slightly, deciding to pull your hips back again, this time making sure to roll them against his.

“Stop that!” he ordered.

“Make me,” you responded with a devilish little smirk, he hauled you off him and onto a nearby wall, кnife still at your throat.

“Come on darling-“

“It’s Fox now,” you interrupted.

“Does Sirius also call you that now?”

You didn’t respond, jaw clenching slightly.

“Thought so,” he said with a nod and whispered your name, almost a plea, completely in contrast with the way he had you against the wall, a small line of bIood already dripping from your neck, “Just… come back.”

“Back where?!” you said with a frown “With Uncle Cliff? So he can sell me off to the first old banker that asks for my hand? No, thank you.”

“Marry me, I’ll ask Cliff for your hand.”

You scoffed the кnife digging deeper into your skin, Remus pulled it back when he noticed, not having realised he had caused you to bleed, “What a hell of a proposal, with a кnife against my neck and one against your ribs.”

“What кnife against my–?” He looked down and realised your hand toying with one of the buttons of his vest, he sighed and turned back to you “I’m faster. I’ve always been faster.”

“No doubt,” you smiled, “but you want to slice my throat as much as I want to get married to an old rich banker.”

“You don’t want to stab me either,” he said as he pulled back, raising his hand and placing the кnife on its hoster. “The offer’s on, either way.”

You raised your eyebrows, leaning back against the wall and using your ascot to clean the bIood from your neck. “The marriage proposal you mean?” He looked to the side but nodded. “Why didn’t you ask me before?”

That seemed to take him by surprise “I’m sorry?”

“Before this,” you said, arms open, trying to express before you became who you were now.

He swallowed “You’d always liked Sirius.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He huffed “I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

That pulled a frown “What? Why?”

Then he pulled a look at you, a frown and a small tilt of his head as if he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to say it was because of the way he looked, because of the scars, because he had nothing to offer you back then.

You gasped “Don’t be ridiculous, you must get hundreds of women thrown at you, the Handsome Wolf of Moonridge, you think I haven’t heard the stories?”

“They’re not like you.”

“You hold way too high standards for me Moons, I think I’m just like them, swayed by the handsome cowboy,” you said and walked towards him, placing your hand on his badge “And the little shiny star on his chest.”

He frowned, “You just want me to let you go,” he said bitterly.

“Au contraire,” you said with a tilt of the head. “I want you to join us. We could use a great gunslinger.”

He raised his eyebrows “to stop being the Sheriff and join your gang of outlaws?”

“Mh-hm,” you said, your hands were now on his neck, tracing over some of the scars with a feather-like touch.

“No.”

You stood on your toes to whisper in his ear, “Allow me to persuade you.”

“NO,” he repeated, stronger this time, you smiled. You could hear the wavering in his voice.

You pressed a soft kiss, wet kiss to his jaw, and you felt him tense, another kiss and he was relaxing against you, his body giving in while his mind still raised with thoughts, you continued kissing until you reached the corner of his mouth, pressing a kiss that lasted just a second longer before pulling away “Tell me if you want me to stop,” you said looking at him, a deadIy serious tone in your voice.

Remus looked at you, eyes pleading before he placed his hands on the sides of your head and pulled you into a kiss. You kissed back instantly, brushing your tongue over his and deepening the kiss when he parted them to let you in. Remus was kissing you like you were the air he needed to breathe, and you kissed back in a similarly desperate manner.

Eventually, you pulled apart to take a breath, and you saw his doubtful face. He was about to say something when you leaned down to trail kisses from his jaw to his neck, fighting with the collar of his shirt for more space.

He saw you reach for your кnife, and he let you, if he was going to diе in between your kisses, then it would be the sweetest farewell a man like him could hope for. But you only used it to cut the buttons of his vest, letting the кnife fall on the floor before pulling the piece of clothing off from him. He allowed you, he’d allow you to do whatever the hell you wanted to him at that point if he was being honest.

He had been pretty passive up until then, but the moment you grazed over his thin linen shirt with your fingernails he seemed to be brought back. Placing his hand on your hips and pushing you further onto the wall, you smiled in between kisses as he pressed his knee in between your legs. You were still kissing him as you started to rock your hips against his leg, grinding on him shamelessly.

He groaned at the feeling of your hips rolling back and forth, grabbing your hair and pulling it lightly to get your lips away from his neck, to be able to look at your face again, to make sure it was real, to make sure it really had been you.

You smiled when you realised he was staring, thinking of a snarky remark to give only for it to be caught in your throat the moment he leaned down to kiss it. Licking over the place he had unwittingly cut and savouring the taste of sweat and copper “I’m sorry,” he mumbled against it as he continued to press kisses, “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Neither Remus nor you were sure if he was sorry for slicing your skin, for not daring to ask you to marry him before you became “Fox”, or for taking this long to finally press his lips to yours, perhaps it was all of it.

“Then make it up to me,” you managed to say with another roll of your hips against his leg.

He hummed into your neck, a mischievous smile, reminiscent of when you were children appeared on his lips “Tell me what you want.”

There were so many things that you wanted, but the only thing that could come to your mind in that precise instant was “Fewer clothes.”

“Yours or mine?” he teased and you huffed in response as he pulled his hands from you to unbutton his shirt and pull it off, he then went for yours, untying the ascot with his hands and teeth and immitting your earlier movement by taking his кnife to break the buttons of your shirt apart, and pulling it off along with your jacket, leaving you only with a corset.

He took his moment to look, to appreciate, before you spoke “Commission a drawing, it’ll last longer,” you teased.

“Sirius must have hundreds already, I could always confiscate them when we finally trap you.”

“Or you could ask for them nicely once you join our team,” you countered.

He huffed a laugh in response “And now?”

“And now?” You repeated.

“What else do you want?” he asked, his fingers tracing over your collarbone, torturous feather light touches that made you feel like you were on fire.

You flushed and his gaze darkened, “touch me,” you whispered and he complied, his hands trailing all over your body shamelessly as he started to flex his thigh muscles, causing you to go back to riding it, with his help now.

He too, without being prompted, went back to kissing your neck, now trailing kisses down your collarbone and towards the valley of your breasts. Lucious, soft breasts that would press against the fabric of your corset whenever you breathed, taunting him. He wanted to see them bare, and so he trailed his hands through your back and felt the laces. He toyed with one of the ends before looking at you, you nodded and he undid the top, trying to unlace it as he kissed.

But Remus wasn’t a particularly patient man, even being often teased by his friends due to his sometimes explosive temperament. He went back to his hoster and took the кnife out. “Don’t move,” he commanded. You stared at him with a smirk as he peered over your shoulder, grazing the skin of your back with the кnife before latching it against the lacing of your corset and cutting them all open in one swift motion.

You smiled, holding the piece of clothing against yourself and releasing only when he had pulled back enough to see. You let it slowly fall from your chest, it wasn’t even halfway down when he fisted it and threw it to the side, desperate to see you.

To see you up front, to see what his imagination had been showing him for so many years but better, brighter, warmer, softer and alive. He had seen a few of Sirius’ drawings, all from the fantasies of his head from when they were younger, but nothing compared to this, nothing compared to you.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he murmured under his breath.

“Could have it every day if you joined us,” you said, taking one of his hands in yours and leading it to one of your breasts.

He smiled at you, eyebrows raised but complied, letting your hand guide his, squeezing and then pinching your now hardened nipples “Could also have the entire law system behind my back, having to turn my head and worrying about getting shot every ten seconds,” he responded sarcastically as he trailed kisses down your neck towards the breast he wasn’t touching yet, “Not being able to sleep properly, always with a gun under my pillow and a кnife strapped to my leg.”

You moaned when he kissed your breast, he was enjoying the way the soft, supple flesh pushed under his mouth and sprang back just as he pulled away to look “Wouldn’t it be worth it?” you asked, breathless.

The sounds you were making were driving the man to insanity, him fading and fading away, leaving only the hungry wolf. He hummed as he took your nipple in between his teeth and nibbled on it softly, causing yet another moan to erupt from your mouth. Perhaps it would be, he thought.

You lowered your hand towards his pants, palming him softly as he groaned into your breast. He was hard and he was definitely big, a testament to his height after all. You couldn’t be sure until you actually saw him, but he felt bigger than Sirius did.

“Fuck, dove…” he said as you started stroking him gently, hand still over his pants, dragging up and down and gripping unto him when you felt the outline against your palm.

“Language Sheriff,” you teased, this time it was you who pulled his hair and dragged him towards your lips, kissing him with an almost feverish ardour that left the two of you breathless, all the while you continued to rock your hips against his thigh and he continued to flex his muscles against your cunt. And your hand, that devious hand of yours, the sharpest shot in the west, trading the gun for his cock, never stopping the lazy and soft strokes. “Ask me that question of yours again Remus…” you breathed into his mouth when your lips separated for just a second.

He smirked into your lips “Tell me doll, what do you want?”

You smiled “I want you to…” you breathed “touch more.”

He looked surprised at your request, and you used the moment to drag the hand on your waist lower, enough to bring it in between your pants. Remus took the opportunity and seized it, using his free hand to unbutton the few buttons that kept the pants in position and freely roam around, you were wet, almost impossibly wet. He didn’t wait too much, tracing his fingers through your folds as he used his knee to hoist you up and get better access, massaging and exploring the sensitive area until he discovered a spot that made you tighten your grip around his bicep, digging your nails so hard you almost pierced his skin.

“You want more of that?” he asked as he brought his lips back to your neck, you nodded and pushed your hips against his hand again, chasing for more friction and he chuckled, shaking his head in between kisses “No, no, use that pretty little mouth of yours to ask for it dove,” he tutted.

You whined in response, and he just chuckled further, taking his hand away and placing it on your leg “Remus!” you warned.

“Yes, dove? What do you want?” he asked calmly.

You scoffed in frustration licking your lips as you fought your way to surrender, and then you thought of yet another way to rile the man up “I want your fingers, Remus. I want them inside me, now.”

He considered asking you to say please at least, to beg, but he was mildly aware that you may or may not bonk him in the head if he dared to do such a thing, so he only listened, dragging his fingers back to your cunt, toying with your clit until he was satisfied with how wet his hands were and then, without a warning, digging two fingers inside you. Your breath hitched in your throat and your nails dug into his bicep even more, leaving little crescent moons imprinted on his skin, very proper for the Wolf of Moonridge.

“Hurts?” he asked breathlessly. You buckled your hips against his fingers in response. “Good,” he added and started pumping them in and out, curling them inside of you and toying with your clit as he did “You’re so fucking tight,” he mumbled, more to himself, but you heard either way, and clenched around his fingers, causing yet a few other curses to leave his mouth.

As he fingerfucked you, you brought your free hand down, stopping your own strokes to take it off, unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall on the floor with a thud as you also took the button of his briefs off. His cock pretty much sprang and bumped with his belly as they too fell on the floor. You buckled your hips against his hand, head pulling back and biting your lips as he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

“Fuck Remus,” you breathed out, his name on your lips making the most pleasurable sound he’d ever heard.

He repeated his actions and in a matter of seconds, he had you panting, barely managing to make a coherent thought until you clenched around him again, hips making the most erratic movements until you leaned down your head against his bare shoulder as he slowed his pace.

“So… You still very sure you don’t want to be the Sheriff’s little wife?” he asked in cocky tone.

It took you a minute to process his question, his fingers still moving inside you although the pace had slowed significantly, and then you stared down, his cock was still there, hard and proud, a bit of precum brimming from the tip, you smiled and reached down, wrapping your hand around him and relishing on the way he groaned, the sound so close to your ear you almost shivered in return. You moved your hand up and then down and then toyed with the tip. Sirius had taught you how good it made men feel, seemed to be working just as well on Moony.

As you stroked him, Remus’ fingers became less confident, less focused, almost lost in the pleasure you were giving him, he was panting, you had managed to stand straighter and he had his head on your shoulder now, head cloudy and kissing your neck whenever his head allowed him to make a coherent thought. He had never felt this good with anyone. Whatever it was you were doing to him, you clearly knew what to do.

“Ask me that question again,” you taunted.

He seemed fazed, blinking at you in between pants “What,” breath “do you,” another deep breath “want?”

You smiled at that “I want this,” you tightened your grip around his cock just a little “now.”

That seemed to bring Remus’ vigour back, he pulled his leg from under you and allowed you to fall back on the ground, you pushed your pants off as fast as you could and Remus took a moment to look at you, to really look at your naked frame and his pupils were blown, much more that they had been in the past. He tried to memorise every curve and corner and crevice, scared he wouldn’t be able to see them again, you saw the way he stared at you and bit your lip “I said now, Remus.”

He didn’t make you wait another second, placing both of his hands on the side of your waist and hoisting you up on him, so you were straddling him, you bit your lip at the feeling of his thick and warm cock against your folds, and grinded against him by pushing your hips and tightening your legs around his torso. He tightened his hold on your waist, his breath growing heavier as he felt your wetness against him directly.

You rolled your hips again “All right, hold on,” he said “I’m trying to adjust.” You just rolled your hips against him again, causing the skin around his cock to ride down, and prompting him to hiss. “I said wait goddamnit,” he insisted a bit more commanding this time around.

You smirked “I like it when you order me around Sheriff Moons,” you joked, and he threw you a warning look, you opened your mouth again, but he had taken his cock into his hands and rubbed the tip to your clit, so instead of another witty remark you only managed to gasp.

It was he who smirked now, but then he stared at you, looking at you attentively “I’m going in,” he informed, and then he did, slowly, to allow you to adjust to his size, not completely at first, only the tip before pulling out again, next time he went in he pushed a little further again. You breathed slowly, he didn’t move, not until you started to clench around him, almost drawing him in even more “You feel so fucking good dove.”

That was all the encouragement you needed, you rolled your hips against his, a little harshly and he pushed towards you again, you let a sound in between a whine and a moan and he repeated the action, pushing in and out just to hear that sweet sound of yours again. The sound that made him go wolfish, undomesticated, wild.

Like an animal, like the wolf they always compared him with, he had no control, not when he was with you. At some point, you felt his lips on yours again, and you kissed back eagerly, you’d never taken Remus as a romantic, but then again, the way he was fucking you against the wall wasn’t exactly the most romantic either, he was harsh and strong and he pushed in and out of you with a ferocity that had you mumbling his name incoherently, sometimes Moons, sometimes Moony, sometimes Remus. That was his favourite.

Regardless, there was something about the way he held you close to him, the way his hands would travel up and down your thigh, almost reverently, that you could see there was care behind his actions, perhaps something more, something hidden and locked up for years out of fear.

At some point his movements became a little erratic, you clenched around him, just to tease and he bit your earlobe in response “I’m going to…”

“Yeah, I know…” you responded. He pulled out of you, ready to catch it with his hand, but then he turned to you, a mischievous smile on his lips “where do you want me?”

You were almost taken aback by his words, but you wouldn’t pass out such an opportunity, you kneeled down in front of him, and peered at him through your lashes “In my mouth.”

He froze, and you smiled, the very reaction you had expected. Then you nodded your head and dragged it closer to him, wrapping your lips around his tip, and bobbing your head, just once, and you felt the spurts of liquid into your mouth, you bobbed again, helping him empty himself before separating completely, a line of spit forming between your mouth and his cock. You looked up at him as you panted, breath heavy and chest rising up and down, your nipples still perked, your lips wet and glossy, you were the prettiest sight he’d ever seen and he was about to lean down to kiss you again when you spoke.

“Have I convinced you yet?”

Remus didn’t say a thing, he looked at you as a deer trapped in the headlights would, still hazy and seeing stars from his close orgasm, but then he heard someone clear his throat, and he was quite literally looking at a star now, Sirius.“If she hasn’t,” Sirius said as he tilted his head in the most lustful and cocksure expression he had ever seen in his life, biting his lascivious lips before he spoke again “I may have an idea of how we can convince you… together.”

A/N: well I’d been wanting to write e Cowboy au for a while, and while there are still some other tropes that I would have liked to use (like the ties to the railroad trope) I’m pretty happy with the final result hehe. Especially with some of those dialogues between the reader and Remus. I literally had to stop writing to take a breather more than once.

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idksmtms · 5 months

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The Prettiest Trophy (Capitol Elite!Aegon II Targaryen x Games Winner!reader (Hunger Games AU)

Summary: You never thought you would make it out of the hunger games, but now you have another fight ahead of you. What do you do when one of the most powerful citizens of the capitol has chosen you to be his?

Word count: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, Dub-con due to power imbalance, coercion too ig (???), some angst (reader talks about survivor’s guilt from the games), p in v s*x, unprotected s*x, oral f receiving, degradation (constantly referring to lesser status of districts), objectification and ownership, (please let me know if I missed any)

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

AN: Aaaaa my first fic finally! Didn't mean to make it this long but I got a bit carried away! I hope you enjoy! (Side note: I was imagining his hair as the style in the black and white pic, just with Targaryen white, Side note 2: I def realise the references to the way Gollum talks about the ring, IT WAS ON PURPOSE)

You never thought you would leave the arena. Every second could have been your last and you still didn’t quite believe you had made it out, that you were standing outside the President’s mansion at a lavish party, dressed in silks and jewels. No one told you how to live after the games were over. It had taken you three days just to be able to get out of bed and move around again after leaving the arena. Being at this party? It felt like a betrayal to all the people who had died so you could live. You sipped from the sickly sweet drink that almost seemed to glow in the night, and looked around the garden.

Most people had finally left you alone thankfully, though you could still see eyes turning your way, whispers and conversations pointed toward your presence in the garden. At least no one was trying to force you into a picture like some capitol celebrity anymore.

People in the most lavish costumes customary of the capitol milled about, talking, whispering, cackling like witches in their modified bodies with their modified voices. It was a horror show. The gardens had been decorated with delicate yellow fairy lights strung up in the trees and over poles around the tables. You assumed they wanted to give it a warm and welcoming look with the yellow lighting but it only cast grotesque shadows on the building that was not only the backdrop to this party, but to all your nightmares. There were tables set up with stark white tablecloths draped over them, an area cleared away for a dance floor, and more noise coming from the entrance to the mansion. Avoxes walked around carrying trays of food and drink between their hands, heads bent low, and shame began to rise inside you. What were you doing here? Why were you forced to be here?

There was someone behind you. You didn’t know when you had become so aware of any presence, probably somewhere between fending off humans and wildlife alike in the arena, and you could distinctly feel someone behind you. A slight shadow fell over your shoulders. A small touch rustled the train of your dress. Someone cleared their throat. You turned around, hands quivering, and looked at the man smirking broadly at you. Your first thought, shamefully: was he even real?

His hair was so blond it was white, cut short and combed back so perfectly he could be no less than an aristocrat. He wore a suit of dark grey over a black shirt, one of the less eccentrically dressed people at the party. But his shoes were lavish. Black and shinier than anything you had ever seen, embroidered with gold thread, gold jewellery dangling from the laces and gems stamped into the fabric. Surely this man was of the richest of the rich, because even in the capitol people were wont to have shoes so lavish. You stared at his shoes for a good minute, whole body frozen, when he cleared his throat once more. You looked at his eyes. You couldn’t tell if they were more blue or grey, like ice had formed over a stormy ocean.

“And who might you be?” He asked, mouth still smiling, before he brought his glass up to his lips and took a drink while waiting for your answer.

“You don’t know who I am?” You asked, almost taking a step back. That couldn’t be true. Viewing was mandatory, your face had been plastered across every screen in Panem for weeks, it couldn’t be true that he didn’t know you. And yet… for a moment… it felt so good not to be recognised. You were just some other girl, lost in the crowd at a party, who hadn’t gone through what you had gone through.

“Well, I may know of you, but I don’t know you know you,” his smile had softened and he stepped closer until his elbow lightly brushed yours and you were both looking out at the party.

“I suppose that’s true,” you answered quietly, still watching his face. His skin was almost as dangerously pale as his hair, and sallow, like he was never quite in the best of health. Though you couldn’t deny the truth, he was a handsome man regardless of his slightly ragged appearance.

“Aegon Targaryen the second,” he held out his hand, running his eyes over your face like he hadn’t gathered enough of it the first time, “and you?”

“Y/n L/n,” you breathed out, reaching out an unsteady hand to limply shake his own. He gently clasped your fingers and brought your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your knuckles before releasing your hand. It was such an odd sensation, his hot breath brushing over the back of your hand, his fingertips slightly rough - but not enough to suggest any sort of manual labour - clasping the skin of your palm. Your cheeks went hot, the tips of your ears tingling, and you continued staring at this enigma.

“How has the capitol been treating you?” He asked, chugging the rest of his drink and depositing it on the tray of an Avox as they passed by like some well-practised dance. You didn’t want to reply. “Well, I suppose you haven’t had the time to truly enjoy it. At least, not the truly fun bits anyway,” he shrugged, tilting his head and looking at you like it was a particularly amusing thing he just said.

You couldn’t understand this at all. Who was this man? What was this interaction? What did he want with you? Why was he acting so mundane, like this was normal?! None of this was normal.

Noticing the look on your face, Aegon chuckled and reached forward to push some hair over your shoulder. It took everything within you to hold in your shiver.

“Ah, you must be confused about who I am! I shouldn’t have assumed you would understand the name Targaryen. We may be famous in the capitol but who knows what goes on in the districts,” you swallowed hard and nodded, trying not to flinch at the dig. “Our family works in all sorts of sectors, for example, my uncle Daemon is responsible for manufacturing arms for the state, my younger brother Aemond works under the president in some position or other - god knows he never shuts up about it - and my father currently runs the peacekeeper program. Of course I’m expected to step up to that eventually but- I won’t bore you with the details.”

You didn’t really consider that work. You had seen the way your parents toiled in the factory every day, had seen the way every member of your family slowly became a hunchback from their work. But you weren’t going to say anything to him.

“What does your family do?” He asked, and again you almost moved out of surprise. His face seemed so sincere as he watched you, waiting for an answer.

“I’m from District 8, so my parents work the looms,” you answered slowly. You almost sounded condescending, like you were talking to someone who couldn’t quite understand your words, but Aegon understood it was the shock of him speaking to you. After all, it had only been a week since you had left the arena, he understood how difficult it would be to gain your confidence. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. And Aegon was a firm believer that flattery could get you anywhere, especially a girl’s bed. So he decided to change course.

“Do you see that man over there?” He pointed discreetly to a spot just to your right and you shuffled back so you could look over without being noticed. You sipped from your glass as you noticed the man, an older gentleman wearing a full fursuit topped with a lion’s mane going around his head. Even his face had been painted with fur and whiskers to resemble a lion with the body of a human. You nodded to Aegon, turning away from the man. Something about that picture made you uncomfortable in a way you had never been before. “Well, rumour has it that he wears that entire get up, face paint and all mind you, every time he fucks.” You gasped, staring at Aegon with eyes so wide they started to hurt.

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered sharply.

“I am the most serious, dearest. Why would I lie to you?” He smirked, leaning closer once more. He draped his arm over your shoulder and you stiffened for a moment before continuing to listen to his next story.

You were slowly beginning to relax in Aegon’s company as he continued to chatter to you. He no longer asked questions or expected you to speak, just pointed out people in the crowd and made colourful commentary that had you hiding your face in his shoulder and giggling against the fabric of his suit. He gazed at you with sparkling eyes full of mirth and shared his ever-full glass of whatever drink they were serving at the time. You couldn’t help but be charmed. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone in the capitol was as bad as they seemed.

“D’you wanna go somewhere quieter?” He finally asked after completely relieving another stranger of their dignity. You took a moment to catch your breath and looked at him, at the sudden darkening of his eyes and the way his tongue poked out to lick his lips. He watched you like a tiger readying to pounce. You nodded without a second thought. Though he had made the party bearable, anywhere would be better than here. He smiled and reached down, sliding his fingers over your inner wrist, then your palm, then grasping your hand in his own. “Come on.”

Aegon led you into the house and up the stairs, nodding at random people (who sometimes you could barely recognise as people), skilfully dodging attempts at conversation. Up and up the lavish stairs you went before walking down a large hallway and stopping in front of a wall. Aegon pushed at the wall and it gave way, revealing a spiral staircase in the dark that led up into an abyss.

“Um, are you sure you know where you’re going?” You asked, pausing at the entrance to the rather dingy looking chamber.

“There are some perks to having been at the president’s mansion practically since I was born. One of those being secret access to the roof, now come on!” He dragged you into the dark and shut the door behind him, before ushering you up the first steps.

The staircase really wasn’t all that tall. In fact, you could see the top and light bled down from the opening. Your heels clanked against each step and you almost toppled back into Aegon more than once. Then you were at the top. Then you could see the whole Capitol. Oh it was breathtaking! The whole city, laid out before you like a miniature scene to play with. There were lights glimmering in houses and cars on the roads and life! There were signs of life everywhere. Oh you couldn’t believe it. You almost believed you could see to the very edges of Panem.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Aegon asked, and you turned to meet his eyes. Both of you had moved right to the edge of the rooftop so you could look out over the party, and he moved to stand directly behind you. You could feel his chest press into your back. The fabric of his shirt rubbed against the skin of your back and he was a solid pressure behind you, like the comfort of a wall at your back when you slept. “Hm?” He asked again, bending his head down to run his nose up your neck. You shivered, the light graze was just ticklish enough to start a spark inside of you.

“Yes,” you breathed out, clenching your hands on the concrete to stop yourself from leaning back into him. You didn’t know him. You didn’t really know him. You didn’t know him at all.

“You know,” he began slowly, hands going to your shoulders and turning you around to face him. “When I first saw you on the television, the day of the reaping, I knew you would win.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your mouth was so dry. You wished you hadn’t discarded that sweet drink so quickly. “And look at you now,” he leaned in closer, cupping your face to force your eyes to meet his, “you’re the winner, the greatest person in Panem, to come out of the districts anyway.” He gently kissed your right cheek, warm lips on plush skin, and when he pulled away the breeze cooled the hint of saliva he had left behind. “You’re the greatest treasure one could possess, you know?” He kissed your other cheek, firmer this time, like he was trying to leave the imprint of his lips on your skin. “Everyone knows the winner of the Hunger Games, and to say you own them? To parade them on your arm for everyone to see, saying you own the very concept of survival?” He seemed to groan in pleasure, and then everything was moving.

His lips were on yours, slightly wet and forceful. His tongue was delving into your mouth, tasting like sugar, too much sugar, and you wanted to pull back because it was so overwhelming and everything he had just said and and and… and it felt so good too. It was warm, and desperate, like no one had ever been for you before.

A hand moved into your hair and grasped the strands at the back of your head tight, pulling slightly to tilt your head back so you had to look up at him. He was almost leaning over you so your spine bent over the edge of the roof, and the skin of your back scratched against the unpainted concrete. He huffed against your mouth then pulled back, his other hand coming up to trace your mouth with his thumb. You stared into his eyes but he wasn’t looking back at you, not really anyway. He was watching his prize, the reward that no one but him deserved.

You whimpered, a small and pathetic sound that only seemed to make his skin hotter, and he let go of your hair to begin pulling the straps of your dress down your arms. It was a heavy thing, and it felt good to finally be rid of the weight, but you were keenly aware of the cold night and the party in full swing just underneath you. If someone in the garden decided to look up, they would surely see you bent over the edge.

“Wait-” you began to protest, but Aegon was past listening, past caring. He just shoved the dress under your breasts and down your legs, before grabbing your face and bringing your mouth to his own again. His hands travelled over your neck, then caressed your shoulders. He gently pressed the red indents the straps of the dress had left and you sighed into his mouth, leaning onto his chest. Your nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt and you gasped into the kiss before moving your chest slightly. The warm little tingles travelled all the way through your torso and you clung to his arms.

Aegon kissed sloppily over your cheeks, your neck, pausing to bite into it until you grunted with pain and pushed at his shoulder. He licked all the way down to your chest, his tongue warm and wet, then the slick trail of spit suddenly cold. Your legs felt unsteady, and you leaned back against the barrier as he began mouthing at your breasts, little circles of warmth formed everywhere he kissed, and then his mouth closed over your nipple and you clenched. It was so… weird. A wet suction formed over your nipple and it seemed to make the inside of your breast spark, your stomach jolt, and the space between your thighs tingle and turn to mush.

“Come on precious,” he mumbled against your skin, “you can be louder,” and he bit the flesh. It really was a live wire attached to your skin, so easy to spark, so easy to create a fire that spread all throughout your body.

Aegon was quicker with the other nipple, licking over it like a dog with a bowl of water, before making his way down to the apex of your thighs. He seemed to be in a hurry with the way he dove his face between your legs. A cry left your lips, loud and shriek-like, at the overwhelming activity. His nose slipped between your lips and pressed to your clit, his tongue out and flat and lapping against the sticky slick that covered the puffy folds that hid your hole. He was ravenous, pressing his face in in in until you stood on your tiptoes and half your weight was balanced against his face. The contours of his face pressed at your hole, his nose rubbed at your clit, and he moved his face back and forth so his tongue could poke inside of you then slip back into his mouth. He began speaking into you, rumbling words you couldn’t understand over the rushing in your head.

“Come on, cum on my face,” he huffed, grabbing your thighs and licking at your clit until it was puffy and swollen. “I wan’ you to cum on my face, give me what I want.” He pressed his tongue inside you. In. Out. He licked your clit. In. Out. He sucked it into his mouth, and your legs shook so much that you would’ve fallen onto the floor if you weren’t practically laying on the barrier already. It was a release. That’s all it could be called. Every muscle clenched then released. Even your mind felt like it had slowly been clenching and now it had been unravelled and was slowly dripping out of your skull.

“Fuck, that’s right,” Aegon mumbled as he pulled away, standing to full height and pulling your hips against his own. His hair had fallen forward into his eyes and his mouth and nose glistened in the low light, but he didn’t seem to care one bit. He had leaned over your body again, pressing his face into your neck. The slick on his chin stuck to your skin and squished whenever he moved. He humped into you a few times, grunting and groaning, before hurriedly reaching down and fumbling with his belt and zipper. You could hear the clanking of metal, the rustle of fabric, and then something warm pressing to your thigh.

There was no waiting with Aegon. His body simply didn’t contain the patience for it, and really why would you wait when the prize you had so long coveted lay bare before you, just ripe for the taking? A shift here, a push there, and he caught at your entrance. He finally pulled away from your neck and looked into your eyes. He caressed your cheek, and you could tell all he saw was a trophy he had just won.

Then Aegon pressed into you, and his veins rubbed at your slick insides, pressing against your walls and sliding against your own textured flesh and you were leaning back to moan into the night sky, chest heaving. He kissed your breasts and pushed into you again, his lower stomach pressing your clit. Again, he moved into you and the sparks flashed and you clenched around him, onto him, and he moaned against your ear, hot breath fanning the shell.

“Fuck yes, you’re my precious little thing aren’t you? Huh? You’re my special little prize?” His hips slapped against yours and the sound echoed over the roof. His mouth biting into your neck sent sparks through you. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and oh god it was too much! You clenched onto him and screamed into his neck, open mouth pressed to the sweaty skin. You clenched and unclenched onto him as waves passed through you, melting your flesh and your bones. It was over too soon yet it lasted too long. He pushed once more, twice more, and you could feel him quiver against you, even as you tried to push him away from the pulsing flesh of your insides. You could feel the spurts inside you, hot and gushing. You felt it trickle out of you, slide down your thighs in warm rivulets and you shuddered.

Aegon still lay on top of you, huffing heavily into your neck. You didn’t know what to do, so you stayed still, waiting for guidance, waiting for the other shoe to fall. He slowly pushed up on his arms so his face hovered above yours, and he smiled a dazed and delirious smile. Was it always there, or had it just appeared, that insanity in his eyes?

“Oh my precious,” he sighed, cupping your cheek, “we have so much ahead.”

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azure-cherie · 11 months

Text

How to dress to bring out planetary energy in your life .pt 1

Everything about us is vibration from your name to the air your breathe, from your jewellery to the clothing it affects you shapes you makes you . Remember to alter the suggestion as per your personal style .

Sun

What's the energy of sun ? What is it used for?

Sun is life the force itself , energy in total consciousness, fame , luxury , joyous nature , happiness, inviting goodness .

This energy can be harnessed for starting new things , bringing your mood up , inviting fame in your life , getting closer to your goal , for creating a friendly opinion of yourself in your work place yet someone who knows themselves. To regain self esteem . For retreat , nourishment and re establishment

What to wear :-

Gold gold gold baby , invest in some gold jewellery, it can be small a ring , a bracelet , or just a simple pendent and wear it with intention. Colours like gold ,mustard , yellow , red , saffron , orange are beneficial. For harnessing joy lighter shades of yellow are effective, for sultry powerful presence , deeper shades of yellow , orange , Reds or a mixture of them is well used . Use of highlighters , bronzers , sunset range eye shadows help in harnessing the energy. Fake tanning is not for sun harnessing like a tan is legit the body cells fighting the sun , you want the energy you don't want to burn yourself. Instead , good skin and glow is what best attracts the energy in your life . Honey coloured hair ,caramel coloured hair , brown coloured hair attracts this energy. Workin on your solar plexus , symbols and tattoos of the chakra symbol . Over dressed is never sun , be comfortable and beautiful, soft fabrics are best preferred, breathable fabrics , something that doesn't suffocate you works best .

Moon

What is the energy of the moon , what is it used for ?

The energy of the moon is mysterious, sultry , seductive , intuitive, hidden , of brightenes in the darkest times of femininity in the essence .

It can be used for times when you want to disconnect from everyone and just live a peaceful life . For helping you solve something that has been bothering you . For seduction and manipulation . Letting out your emotions , dealing with them . For healing and occult practices .

What to wear :

Anything related to pearls , silk , satin in hues of white silver grey work best , stones like moon stone when carved and used as a pendent . Silver coloured makeup , the metal of silver is known as chandi which correlates to Chand (moon) . Drinking moon water in a silver cup is also very beneficial for harnessing the energy. Wear pendents of moon shape . Use the triple moon symbol for power and protection. Since moon is inherently feminine flowey dresses , sheer dresses work great . Invest in comfortable bras , whatever bras or bralette you need for each occasion as the moon rules the breasts . Black also works well as moon is more about mystery and black makes you blend in very well .

Mars

What is the energy of the mars, what is it used for ?

The energy of mars is powerful, action oriented , go getter , sometimes nervous, filled with courage

Can be used if you're struggling to do something , like times when you feel lazy , you suffer with not standing up for yourself, when you need courage, for self esteem issues

What to wear :

Blood red hues , deep red hues , black , maroon colours of dress work great . While the energy of sun is red more on the side of orange ,Reds for mars are more rich and vibrant . Materials like latex , heavy materials , wool , leather , khadi etc can give you more of a mars vibe . Using tops with pants , black blazers , tuxedo , red long dresses , alternatively any costume to show dominance can be used to harness the mars energy. Hats , hair bands , extensions, crowns , any jewellery or accessories related to your head work great as our head is ruled by mars . Extravagance (but not as much as rahu) can be used. But most important of all there are no rules to mars , it's whatever you find suits you best .

Venus

What is the energy of the Venus, what is it used for ?

The energy of Venus is quite the energy of passion not of burning passion like mars but of seductive passion , silent wanting craving , desire, intention, of luxury , of easy paths , of getting things you desire without working too much for it , of sweetness, of youth .

This energy is used for getting things your way , attracting people, positivity, self esteem , manifestation, for initial impressions (like interviews , depending on the setting and industry ) . For youth beauty and rejuvenation .

What to wear :

Crimson, pinks , peach colour , red , white , pastels etc. Platinum metal , brass, copper occasionally for jewellery. Ribbons, laces , net , satin , pearls, chains , body jewellery. Soft sultry flowey materials that symbolise the feminine energy of the planet. Revealing clothing, staying naked for a while connects you to the energy of the planet as Venus is comfortable in her own skin by that you can choose to be comfortable in your own skin in accordance to the situations. Venus rules the genital regions , sexy undergarments or comfortable undergarments will take you a long way in accordance with this energy. Avoid having dirty laundry that afflicts Venus. Be the most sexy version of you without the eyes of male validation and there you have her blessing you. .

Thank you so much for reading 🍒

#astrology community #astrology notes #sidereal astrology #astro notes #astrology #astro community #astro observations #mars #venus #sun #moon #vedic astrology #tropical zodiac

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tasteleeknow-remade · 2 years

Text

— horror house

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, enemies to lovers. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 6.2k

summary: you're stuck in a horror house alone—your only way out is with the guy who hates your guts. halloween themed enemies to lovers with minho. pirate!minho with a lip ring included.

afab!reader. profanity. mention of recreational drug use. insecure reader. anxiety mention. pet names. unprotected intercourse. oral (f.rec). jealous behaviour. possessive behaviour. praise kink.

At first it was only out of obligation to your friend. They’d only dated a few months but Minho had been a total dick when it ended, breaking it off over text and offering her no explanation. Then you’d had a class project with Chan, his best friend. You’d gotten along so well you’d accepted Minho was the price you’d have to pay to keep Chan around. You ignored Minho for the most part, still just out of loyalty to your heartbroken friend. It wasn’t until Chan’s birthday that your opinion of him was set in stone. You’d spent the previous month painting a landscape of a beach Chan had declared his favourite place on earth. When he’d unwrapped it and held it up for everyone to see, MInho had burst out in laughter.

That was when you decided you hated him. He’d fucked with your friend and he’d made you feel like shit about your only escapism hobby. It took months for you to get the soothing feeling back when you painted. You second guess every piece you made, wondering if everyone around you was just being nice when they said they were pretty. He was a dick and you hated him. Unfortunately, he stuck to Chan like glue. He was always buzzing around, making little biting comments about your clothes or your hair or something you’d said.

Tonight was no different. You were at a halloween event at the theme park with Chan, Minho and two other friends. It was supposed to just be you and Chan but when he'd called the day before to sheepishly admit Minho was tagging along, you’d invited two other friends to balance it out. The more people were there, the less you’d have to talk to him. So far you've received snark about your costume, about your choice of food, and about your refusal to ride one of the biggest rollercoasters. The guy was afraid of heights and he was being a dick about you not wanting to go on a ride. When you pointed out the irony he’d just grinned, “Yeah, and I’m going on it. So what does that say about you?” You’d grabbed his stupid pirate hate off his stupid head and shoved it into Chan’s arms. “Fine,” you’d said, “I’ll go on the stupid ride.” You’d marched off to join the queue, ignoring him when he’d begun taunting you about being afraid. When it was all over you’d struggled to contain your laughter. It wasn't that bad. If you were being totally honest it was pretty fun, but you weren’t telling him that.

He sits across from you now, biting the end off his stupidly long churro. You’d offered to buy Chan one when he’d pointed out the cart and Minho had latched onto the offer—asking at the last moment in front of the staff. He’d never paid for a single thing for you ever. His tongue pokes out to lick sugar off his lip. He had a fake lip ring on. What that had to do with pirates, you had no idea. You’d asked him when he’d shown up at Chan’s place earlier that night. He’d made fun of you for even noticing the fake jewellery. “What are you looking at my lips for?” he’d smirked.

“You’re gonna swallow that thing,” you say now, watching the small silver ring disappear slowly between his lips as he chews.

He looks up from his churro and keeps his eyes on yours—his tongue poking out again to push it back in place. Then the corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Still can’t take your eyes off my mouth?”

“I was hoping you’d choke on it.”

“I wanna go to the horror house next,” Chan announces, interrupting before Minho can offer one of his uninspired retorts. You hate horror houses. You hate horror mazes. Halloween was fun as long as no one was jumping out from behind corners to scare you. But you can’t back out, not after the roller coaster. He’d find some way to make it worse than just going without complaint.

“I like your costume,” a girl dressed as some kind of sexy demon says as she brushes her fingers across the brim of Minho’s hat. That was another thing, he was the worst flirt you’d ever come across in your life. Anywhere you went there would be some girl draped over him, feeding into his huge fucking ego. You wanted to pull them aside and explain why he was the last guy in the world they wanted to lather in praise. You never did, though. He’d think you were jealous and trying to drive off the competition.

“Thanks,” he smiles at the girl, “What are you?”

“A succubus.”

Honestly, you wish she’d flirted with you instead. She looked hot. Your costume didn’t do a lot for your figure. You wore a long white dress with puffed sleeves at the shoulders—a spattering of fake blood carefully added around the hem. It was supposed to be an homage to your favourite horror film, Crimson Peak. Minho had asked why you’d come dressed in a bedsheet. If you were trying to do a ghost he could cut two holes in it and pull it up over your head, he’d offered generously.

“The sex demons?” Minho’s voice is deeper than usual as he flirts with the hot demon girl. It was ridiculous. Easy ammunition to use against him later.

“They visit people in their dreams and seduce them,” she purrs as she fiddles with the laces at the front of her corset.

You look to the front of the queue you're standing in then turn to Chan, attempting to tune out the flirting. “Please, distract me before I puke,” you whisper in his ear. He chuckles before speaking, not bothering to whisper.

“It’s honestly impressive how long you’ve kept this up. When will you let him off the hook, hm?”

Minho and the hot demon girl shuffle forward as the queue moves. You don’t, letting them create some distance before you speak. “He’s a prick. I’ve explained what he did.”

“He had a messy break up with a girl you aren’t even friends with anymore.”

You say nothing, crossing your arms and leaning back against the railing. You watch him study your face out the corner of your eye before he speaks again, “Ah. It’s not about that is it?” You keep your mouth shut. “Is it about the painting? You know I love that thing. It’s hung up in a prime location.”

Minho and the hot demon girl have moved even further forward in the queue, giving you the confidence to speak. “It’s not about the painting. He’s just a dick.”

“Why would I be best friends with someone who is just objectively a dick?”

“You tell me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Well maybe he’s just a dick to me then.”

Chan is quiet and just as you think he’s dropped the subject he speaks again, “Oh, I get it.”

“What?”

“Can you move up!?” someone behind you shouts. You shuffle forward to where Minho and the hot demon girl are still flirting. Chan nudges you. You ignore him.

You have your eyes squeezed shut, your grip on Chan’s bicep the only thing keeping you upright. Minho and the others are up ahead, leaving you and Chan to stumble forward clumsily. Every now and then you hear Minho shouting up ahead, he was jumpy—like you. That didn’t matter though, you’d cop an earful if he saw you cowering in fear.

“Can you loosen up just a little?” Chan asks, attempting to pull his arm from your grip.

“No.”

He stops walking, halting you with him. “Let go for a second.”

“No.”

“Just for a second.”

You hesitantly release him, instantly regretting it and reaching to grab him again—eyes closed. You feel nothing but empty space. “Chan?” you call, failing to hide the panic in your voice. “This isn’t funny.” All you hear is the sound of his retreating footsteps. “Chan!” When you get no response, you freeze. Too afraid to open your eyes or make any more noise. When his footsteps return you reach out blindly. “Please,” you beg, voice wobbling a little.

“You alright?” Minho’s voice. Fuck. Open your eyes, you plead with yourself. “Jesus, Chan said you were afraid, not catatonic.”

You peek one eye open, he’s directly in front of you—smiling like he’s just stumbled upon pirates' gold. “I’m fine,” you mutter unconvincingly.

“Alright, Let’s head back to the others then,” he says, turning to leave.

You squeeze your eyes shut again. “Wait! I—” you interrupt yourself, regretting the outburst instantly.

“Mm?”

“I need…” you trail off, cringing.

“Yes? What do you need?” His voice is sickly sweet.

“You,” you finish, shoulders slumping in resignation.

“This wasn’t exactly the place I imagined you finally admitting that.”

“I need you to lead me through, you idiot.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Say ‘pretty please Minho, you’re so strong and handsome’.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

Then there was silence. You’re afraid for a second he’d somehow crept away without you hearing. You open your mouth to suck in a breath and call his name—a soft tickle of breath against your cheek halting you. “Say please,” he whispers directly into your ear.

A small shiver runs through your spine. “Will you please be nice to me for once and let me hold your arm?”

“Okay,” he says lightly, as if he hasn’t just made you beg for his help. His hand touches yours lightly and you think he’s guiding your hand to his arm—instead he intertwines your fingers. Before you can protest he’s pulling you along, making you stumble a little at his quick pace. You peek an eye open just as something drops from the ceiling. You scream, jumping forward to latch onto Minho—fingers grasping at the linen of his pirate shirt. His fingers tighten around yours, “You really that scared?”

“Shut up.”

“Can you afford to be rude to me right now?”

“I’ve got a hold of you now, I’m not letting go even if you decide to abandon me.”

He chuckles and then he’s attempting to detach you from his shirt. “I can’t walk with you attached to my front like this,” he whines. You relent, releasing the fabric to quickly wrap around his bicep, one hand in his, and one grasping his arm. “Really?” he complains. Before you can respond he's walking, movements slowed by your shuffling. You flinch at each jumpscare, feeling his small jolts as he reacts similarly. You don’t comment on it, afraid if you poke at him too much he really will leave you.

When he stops moving finally and announces you’re at the end, it takes you a moment to gather yourself. Then you spring off him. Chan and the others are standing with the hot demon girl and her friend, chatting and laughing like they hadn’t just emerged from that nightmare. It’s only at that moment you register Minho had left the girl he’d been flirting with to come back and help you.

“You okay?” Minho’s soft voice pulls your attention to his face.

“Why did you come help instead of Chan?”

“He asked.”

You nod in understanding. “Right,” you say before walking over to join the others. He did it because Chan asked. Because he’s nice to Chan and everyone else, apparently. When Minho joins the group, hot demon girl latches onto him—grasping his arm a lot like you had minutes earlier. She leans up to whisper in his ear and then his eyes widen a little. You watch over the next few minutes as his ears tinge red.

“Hello?” Chan’s voice breaks through your thoughts.

“What?”

“I said we’re gonna head back to my place for drinks.”

“Oh, alright.”

“You coming?”

“Sure.”

“Oi! We’re going back to mine!” Chan shouts to Minho much louder than needed. Minho looks up, eyes meeting yours. He looks away to whisper in the demon girl's ear. She smiles and nods. You turn to follow Chan and the others back to the car.

“She’s not coming,” you struggle to keep your voice down, looking back over to the others standing around the car. You’d dragged Minho out of demon girl's earshot.

“Why not?” Minho answers, his calm demeanour working you up more.

“She doesn’t fit.”

He looks back to the car. “She can sit on my lap.”

“That’s illegal.”

He laughs. You want to stomp his stupid hat into the pavement. “You smoked weed a few hours ago,” he says.

“That’s different.”

His lips quirk up at the corners. “Yeah?”

“Unless you call the cops yourself, I’m not getting in trouble for that. All it would take is Chan getting pulled over and we’re all fucked.”

He smiles properly, eyes crinkling. “When are you going to admit you’re in love with me?”

You throw your arms in the air. “Are you making fun of me right now? I—God.. just—Do whatever the fuck you want then. I’m over it,” you storm back to the car, pulling the front passenger door open and slamming it shut after you. You struggle to hold tears back. Why the fuck are you crying? Overwhelmed from the horror house, you assume. You take a few deep breaths and then everyone is climbing in the car. You don’t turn around, keeping your eyes fixed out the windscreen. When Chan doesn’t start the car after a few minutes you turn, noticing Minho and demon girl outside the car still. She gives him a hug and you look away quickly. When Minho enters the car alone, you say nothing.

Chan passes you another drink, giving you a pointed look before settling himself back in one of the chairs across the fire pit. You hadn't said much at all since getting in the car. Chan noticed, you guessed. You were getting a little hot in your long dress. You doubted you’d be making it home tonight. You often ended up crashing at Chan’s place on nights like this, it was a bit like a second home—even if he shared it with Minho.

“You alright?” one of your other friends asks as they lean over from their chair next to you, “You’ve been a little quiet.”

“Just a bit hot,” you say, offering her a small smile.

“Oi! Come have a go!” Minho shouts at you from where he’s having a sword fight with your friend dressed as a Jedi. It’s sword versus lightsaber.

“Nah, I’m good,” you reply, not caring if he can hear you. You make eye contact with Chan across the fire. He nods his head in their direction. You shake your head back.

“She’ll have a go!” he shouts. Traitor. You knew Chan had a longstanding agenda of making you and Minho friends. He wasn’t subtle about it.

A lightsaber is shoved in your face. You look up to find Minho grinning down at you. “Take it,” he says, shaking the weapon in front of you. You snatch it, standing to follow him to the patch of grass he’d chosen as the battlefield. He holds his fake pirate sword out in your direction, adopting a dramatic fighting stance. You roll your eyes.

“How does this thing light up?” you ask, searching the surprisingly sturdy plastic lightsaber for any buttons. You find one. It lights up blue.

“You ready?” he asks.

“What are the rules? How do I win?”

“Stab the other person in the stomach.”

You lunge for him with no warning. He jumps back, blocking you with his sword. “Sneaky,” he chuckles, backing up slowly as you keep attacking. He keeps backing up until he reaches the fence, nowhere else to go. Then he attacks. He swings the sword so hard you’re amazed the two plastic toys are holding up. He doesn’t seem like he’s actually aiming for your stomach, having too much fun swinging at you wildly.

He clips your hand. “Ow!” you yell, dropping your weapon to the ground and shaking your hand in the air—failing to ease the sting at all.

He stops, sword falling to his side. “Oh, shit. Are you alright?”

You blow on your hand then bend to grab the lightsaber. “I’m fine,” you say, fired up now. “Keep going.”

He frowns, eyes on your still stinging hand. You take advantage of his distraction, jumping forward to shove the tip of your weapon into his stomach. He grunts as you hit him and then he’s laughing, reaching forward to grab you and wrap his arms around you—holding you hostage.

“Get off,” you groan, wiggling in his hold. He squeezes you tighter.

“That was dirty play.”

“We didn’t make any rules. Let go.”

“Say please.”

“Fuck off.”

He releases you and you storm off, grabbing your drink and heading inside. You were hot just sitting around but after that? You needed to change out of this stupid costume. The high collar was making you feel suffocated. You place your drink on the kitchen countertop and lean over the sink to splash your face with cold water. While you shake your hands dry your gaze drifts to the large painting hanging proudly in the centre of the largest wall in the house. When you’d first seen where Chan had hung your painting, you’d been unable to keep a smile off your face. Either he really did like it or he liked you enough to hang it there anyway. Either way, it soothed a little of the sting Minho had dealt when he’d laughed at it.

You head up the stairs, making your way to Chan’s room. It wasn’t unusual for you to borrow clothes from him when you stayed over. You’re sifting through his shorts, trying to find the pair that fit you well when you’re startled for the hundredth time today.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for clothes, get out.”

Minho wanders into the room, slowly making his way over to you—hands in his pockets. “I’ve got clothes.”

“Obviously.”

“Use mine.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask just before he presses the drawer closed, forcing you to pull your hands out. You look up at him, too tired to fight him. “Fine,” you sigh before leading the way to his bedroom. His soft footfalls follow you. You turn at his door, blocking the doorway with your arm. “I don’t need help.” He ducks under your arm.

You debate whether it’s worth trying to make a run for it back to Chan’s room. There’s a lock on his door. “Hurry up, don’t you want to get out of that bedsheet.” You spin around to find him sorting through a pile of clothes at the end of his bed.

“It’s not a sheet, it’s a nightgown from a gothic horror.”

“You went to a theme park in pyjamas?” he taunts, continuing to dig through the pile, “You got all that fancy stuff under there?” You say nothing, watching him from the doorway. “Ya know like a corset and stockings and all that olden days crap?”

“It’s a nightgown, why would I have anything underneath?”

“You make it sound like you have nothing on at all,” he asks without looking up, busy with his search. You lean back against the doorframe and cross your arms, saying nothing. His hands abruptly halt and he looks up at you. “No…you’re kidding.”

“Are those dirty?” you ask, pointing at the pile of clothes. He drops the shirt he’d been holding, taking small steps over to you slowly—like you might spook.

“Not even panties?” he asks, ignoring your question.

“Don’t be a perv.”

“Me? You were staring at my lips all night.” You drop your eyes to his chest, the neckline of his pirate costume lower than anything you’d seen him wear before. “Oh, my chest too?” You snap your eyes back to his.

“If I was staring it was only because of your nauseating attempt at flirting. It must be tiring dropping your voice so much lower than it is naturally. That girl is lucky she got out of coming back here. I bet you’re a lousy fuck.”

“I dunno how many more of your insults I can take. As cute as the little line is between your brows when you get angry, I do have feelings.”

You frown. Cute?

“Mm, that’s the one.”

You quickly adopt a neutral expression. “I’m going back to Chan’s,” you announce, not moving.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he says, taking a small step closer, “I’d rather you stayed here…stay here and take that thing off.”

“Get out so I can change, then.”

“No.”

“Get the fuck out.”

“You want me to fuck you instead? Is that it, huh? That’s why you’re being brattier than usual. You watched me all night and then when I paid attention to that girl instead of you, you lost it.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I called her right now and told her to come over? She gave me her number, ya know. Told me to call her if I decided I wanted to fuck her after all. Tell me you don’t want me to call her. Tell me you want me to fuck you instead.”

“Why—” you pause as he tugs at the strings keeping his shirt together at the front, revealing even more of his chest. “Why would I want to fuck someone who hates me?” you finish, hoping your voice sounds even.

“Hates you?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

His expression softens, catching you off guard. “Why would I hate you?” His voice is soft now too.

“You—You don’t?”

“No, baby. I don’t hate you.”

You examine his face for any indication he’s messing with you. “But—”

“Is that why you’ve been running from me? Hm? Why you won’t admit you love me?” His fingers play with the fabric of your nightgown before he begins pulling it up slightly—the material bunching in his fist.

Why does he keep saying that? “I don’t.”

“You don’t love me? I have feelings, remember. You can’t say something nice to me? I won’t tell anyone.” He says, a small smirk forming. The way he was switching between soft tones and snark was giving you whiplash. Your eyes drop to the ring still attached to his lip. “Always looking at my mouth…”

You're quiet as he continues slowly bunching up the fabric of your dress, then you whisper, “I-I like the ring.”

He grins. “Yeah? Is that all?”

“I like the shirt,” your voice just above a whisper this time.

“Do you like the shirt and the ring or do you like them on me?” The dress is up to your thighs now, both his hands under the hem to bunch all the fabric up. His knuckles brush your skin lightly. “You really have nothing under here?” he asks before you can respond to his first question.

You reach down to take one of his hands, keeping eye contact as you guide him up your thighs slowly. You pause, “You really mean it? You—you aren’t fucking with me?”

“Hm?”

“You don't hate me?” you clarify.

“You really thought I hated you?”

You frown, confused. “You’re always—You’re nice to everyone but me.”

“I thought we were playing. You’re so fun to play with.” He smiles. “You don’t like playing with me?”

“You laughed at my painting.”

He frowns a little. “Your painting? The one you gave Chan?”

You nod.

“I was laughing because all I got him that year was a new case for his phone. He made me promise not to get him anything ‘big’ and then you walk in the house carrying the biggest present I've ever seen in my life. It was bigger than you for fuck’s sake. I held it back until he opened the thing.” He chuckles at the memory. “The amount of wrapping paper around his legs…I got him a phone case.”

“You didn’t think it was bad?”

“Why would I hang it up in the centre of the house if I thought it was ugly?”

“You—You put it there?”

“Mm,” he confirms, eyes flicking down to where his hand disappeared under your dress. Oh right, his hand was under your dress. You take a deep breath before continuing to guide his hand up your thighs, hesitating when you reach your centre. “It’s alright,” he whispers, retracting his hand a little before you stop him. You hold him there as you examine his face. His ears are tinged red. Maybe he really isn’t messing with you. Maybe he really did want this. You gently guide him to your cunt, sucking in a shallow breath as his fingers brush your folds. He wraps his free hand around the back of your neck, holding you close to him. “Fuck,” he breathes. “You really went to that theme park with your little pussy bare like this? Shit, the way you were latched onto me in the house…you were all shivery and jumpy and I didn’t even know your little cunt was naked…”

You watch the little silver ring on his bottom lip as he plays with you.

“Bet that guy at the churro stand would’ve lost his mind if he knew you were all naked under here…he already looked like he was imagining how you’d look with his cock in your mouth,” he continues, fingers stroking you slowly.

“What guy?” you breathe.

“You didn’t notice him ogling you the entire time we ate? Were you too busy watching my mouth? Hm? Am I that distracting, baby?” You say nothing, focusing on keeping your breathing even. “No? You don’t get all worked up when I’m around?” The tip of his finger dips inside you before retreating, teasing your entrance over and over again. You grip his bicep to keep your balance—legs wobbling a little. His tongue pokes out to play with the ring briefly.

‘Stop,” you gasp out—overwhelmed. You’re unsure whether you mean his fingers on your cunt or his tongue on his lip. He drops both hands from your body, taking a quick step back. He looks at you like could shatter his world with your next move.

You grip the hem of your dress and pull it up over your head—stumbling back a step, thrown slightly off balance by the weight of the bunched fabric. When you drop it to the floor and look back up at Minho his eyes are glazed over—hands clenched at his side.

“Hate you?” he huffs out a breath of laughter before approaching you slowly. He takes your hand gently, lifting it up and turning it back and forth as he inspects it. It’s the hand you’d hurt in your sword fight, you realise. You’d completely forgotten about it, the stinging long gone.

“Promise me. Promise you aren’t going to take this all back…that you mean it,” you say, giving him one last chance to back out.

He rests his palm gently at your hip, gliding up and down your waist slowly before dropping to your lower back. He pushes you into him, your torso pressed to his. “Promise,” he mutters and then his lips are on yours. He’s not gentle at all. It’s desperate and messy and it isn’t long before his lip ring comes off in your mouth. You pull back enough to pluck it from between your lips, holding it up like pirate's loot—unable to hold back a grin.

“Don’t lose this,” you say as you tuck it into one of his pockets before pulling him back to you. His hair is messed from wearing the pirate’s hat for hours and you can’t resist tangling your fingers in it as you hold him to you. He grabs a handful of your ass in return. “The door is open,” you murmur into his mouth as he walks you backwards towards the bed. He makes no indication he’s heard you and then the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. He lowers you onto your back slowly, your legs dangling off the bed. He pecks your mouth once more before walking over to shut and lock the door. You sit up on your elbows as he approaches you again, watching him pull the flimsy shirt over his head. You trail your eyes down to where his hands work to unbuckle his belt.

“Spread your legs for me,” he says, prompting you to look up to his face. His eyes are locked between your legs as he tugs at his belt.

“Say please.”

He looks up to your eyes, a small smile forming on his face. “Cheeky. You like playing too, don’t you? You’ve always liked it, playing with me.”

You offer him a small smile in return.

“Please, spread your legs for me,” he says, shoving his pants down his legs. Your eyes drop to his thighs as you slowly spread your legs apart, offering yourself to him. “Fuck,” he mutters, dropping to his knees. He settles himself between your legs, pushing your thighs apart a little more. “Say something nice to me and I’ll make you feel good,” he says, one finger stroking you lightly. You struggle not to squirm, the teasing touch making you desperate for more. “Go on, you can do it,” he encourages.

“Your mouth is pretty,” you mutter under your breath.

“Hm? What was that?” he says, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

“I think…your lips are nice.”

“I know,” he says sweetly and then he’s leaning forward to press a kiss to your dripping cunt. He holds your thighs apart as you involuntarily attempt to squeeze them together. “Again,” he murmurs, lips brushing against you. You fail to hold in a whine. “Something nice,” he prompts.

“Thighs,” you breathe out, unable to form a full sentence.

“Yeah?” His breath tickles you as he speaks. “So I wasn’t imagining it at the beach the other day…kept catching you looking.” You feel your cheeks warm, embarrassed. The man had his face between your legs and you were blushing over the fact he’d caught you looking at his thighs. He presses his lips to your mound, rewarding you by tracing light kisses down to your entrance. You replay the memory of his lips with the small silver ring attached to the lower, how he looked with his tongue poking out to play with it, how he looked licking sugar off his lips.

By the last kiss you’re failing to keep your hips still in your attempt to get a little friction from somewhere, anywhere. His palm moves to press against your lower stomach, and then his warm, wet tongue is licking a long stripe back up to your clit. A whine of his name slips from your lips. “Yes?” His voice is sickly sweet again, in total contrast with the act he’s engaged in.

You fail to lift your head off the bed, muscles too relaxed. “More,” you plead, unbothered with how desperate you sound now.

“More? More of me? You want more of my tongue on your wet little pussy?”

“Mm.”

“Say it. You want me.”

“...want you.”

“My name.”

“Minho…want you… please…Min…”

“So sweet,” he mutters before attaching his mouth to you again. He keeps his palm on your lower stomach, applying just enough pressure to keep your hips on the bed as he works you up to your high. You grasp at his bedsheets as you picture his pretty lips, then he groans. The vibrations against your cunt send you over the edge, mind blanking as you cum. He presses you into the bed a little harder as your hips attempt to rise off the bed. He’s muttering against you. You make out nothing he says.

By the time you come down he’s hovering above you, lips and chin glistening with your wetness. You pull him down to attach your mouth to his, wordlessly thanking him. He moans into your mouth and presses his body down onto you, your breasts pressing into his bare chest. His hard cock rests against your thigh. He’s kissing you differently from earlier, while that was desperate and rough, this is slow and sensual—as if he’s savouring his reward.

“You clean?” you mutter against his lips, impatient to feel him inside you.

“Hm? You gonna let me fill you up?”

“Answer the question.”

“Yeah, baby. I’m clean. Now answer mine.”

“You can, if you like, have an IUD.”

“Tell me what you want. I wanna hear you ask me nicely.”

“Or I could just leave. You got me off, I'm good to go.”

He pulls himself off you, returning to his standing position at the end of the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see him, his eyes are trailing up and down your body. “You don’t want this?” he asks as he starts slowly stroking himself. “Look how hard you make me,” he mutters, thumb brushing over his tip. You sit up, eyes level with his cock. You look up at him.

“Are you fishing for compliments on your dick now? You got a praise kink?”

“Will you tell me nice things if I say I do.”

“What do I get in return?”

“I just made you cum.”

“That’s true, that was nice of you,” you say, watching one corner of his mouth quirk up. “Alright, you have a nice dick.”

“Is that the best you can do?”

You drop your eyes back to his cock, his hand still slowly stroking up and down. It was true. He did have a nice dick. It was thick and curved slightly up, not too long but long enough to make it the nicest dick you’ve seen. You wonder if you could handle his ego if you said that out loud.

“It’s pretty,” you say instead, “pretty and—and it looks like it’d fill me up nicely.”

“Mm? You gonna let me cum inside? You want me to?”

You look up to his eyes again, they’re hooded—his jaw clenched. “Yeah,” you breathe.

“Lay back on the pillows,” he says, “please.”

You shuffle back on the bed, failing to hold back a smile. His cock bounces as he crawls towards you and then he’s settling himself over you. You hold your breath, anxiety seeping back into your chest again. How could you have got it so wrong? It didn’t make sense.

“Have you—have you wanted this… for a while?” you ask, as he hovers over you—pearl choker hanging a little from his neck. Apparently he’d decided pirates wore pearl chokers and lip rings. You weren’t complaining.

“A little while,” he mutters, eyes dropping from yours.

“Then you’re a terrible flirt.”

He huffs out a short breath of laughter, eyes meeting yours again. “I thought we were good at it.”

“It might’ve helped if I knew that’s what we were doing.”

“You know now.”

“I know now.”

He kisses you, tongue dipping between your lips. He plays with your lip a little like he had with the ring. You moan, encouraging him to guide his cock to your cunt. He keeps his lips on yours as he enters you, a low groan vibrating through his chest. He’s quiet at first as you both savour feeling the other so completely. Each time he presses in, you can’t help thinking about his thighs—the thighs he’s currently using to fuck his pretty cock deep inside you. He seems to be working himself up as well, his breathing getting heavier.

“My pretty baby…letting me fuck you raw…” he mumbles against your mouth, “You were so cute… getting all worked up because I talked to another girl, hm?”

“She was hot,” you say, attempting to justify yourself.

“I could call her, she might wanna join in,” he says, lifting his face from yours to look over your face.

You frown. “No.”

He chuckles, “No? You think I’m yours? Think I belong to you?” You wrap your legs around him, holding him to you. The second time you’d wrapped yourself around him that day. You imagine if you could send a message back in time, to the version of you attached to his bicep in the horror house. Would you ever be able to comprehend this is where you’d be a few hours later? That you’d be under him like this in his bed, his thick cock stretching you open. “Yeah? You want me to be yours?” he continues, taking your clinginess as an answer. He presses his face to your neck as his pace picks up.

“Want you—,” you whisper into his ear, “want you to be mine, just mine.” A whine escapes him, high and sweet—encouraging you to continue. “Couldn’t look away from your lips tonight, that ring…you’re so hot. Prettiest lips…”

“Shit,” he mumbles against your skin, hips stuttering a little as he fucks into you.

“And the beach,” you continue, “I was so distracted all day. It was maddening. You walked out of the water with your shorts all wet, stuck to your thighs…made me all hot.”

He pulls his face from your neck, eyes locking onto yours as he pulls out and thrusts into you hard, once, twice, three times. Then he’s coming, mouth attaching to yours as he fills you. You clench around him, drawing one last pretty moan from his lips. He pants into your mouth as he catches his breath.

“Mm, definitely a praise kink,” you whisper, fingers tangling in his hair.

a/n: i lied. it wasn’t exactly enemies to lovers. it was enemies to lovers but only one of them thinks they’re enemies, the other has been in love the whole time. unreliable narrator. oop. happy halloween.

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