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hyperactively-me · 6 months ago

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regency era!ghost x reader au (part 1)

oops my fingers slipped oh nooo. I just watched Pride and Prejudice (2005 of course) and finished the first half of Bridgerton season 3, and this just fell out of my head sooo here ya go

In the heart of debutante season, the grand halls of the manor glittered with an optimistic opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung in every room, and the laughter of the ton mingled with the notes of lively waltzes and invigorating English country dances. Simon Riley, the newly titled Duke, stood at the edge of the ballroom, a stern figure amidst the merrymaking. His eyes scanned the room, but they held no warmth; they were as cold and unyielding as the battles he had once fought in wars.

Duke Simon Riley had gained his title through his distinguished military service, a feat that made him both revered and feared. His demeanor was hardened, his interactions brusque, and he regarded social gathering and balls with a thinly veiled disdain. He considered balls and galas a different kind of battle, one he navigated with nearly the same stoic resolve as he had the warfront.

Across the room, you move with effortless grace, the hem of your gown bustling around your feet. You are the embodiment of elegance and propriety, your every movement reflecting your strict upbringing. You were popular amongst the ton, your dance card nearly always full. You didn’t really mind, to a certain extent; yet, you’ve never had a dance partner who went past superficial conversation. It was something that irked you, but you had resigned yourself to it a long time ago.

Your father, a Lord, had made it a point earlier in the night to introduce you to the Duke. You glide through the sea of silk and satin, approaching your father’s proud smile in the corner of the ballroom. Next to him was the Duke; a tall, broad man. Quite handsome, you thought to yourself.

“Ah, here she is,” your father said warmly, taking your hand and leading you towards the Duke. “Allow me to introduce Duke Simon Riley. Your Grace, may I present my daughter.”

You curtsy deeply as your father announces your title and name, your eyes fluttering open to meet the Duke as you offer a polite smile.

Simon turns his steely gaze upon you, dipping his head slightly in acknowledgement. “My lady,” he said, his voice as cold and formal as his expression.

“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have heard much about your service.”

“Indeed,” Simon replies, his tone clipped. “I hope the reality does not disappoint.”

You tilt your head slightly, maintaining your composure at his bluntness. “On the contrary, Your Grace, I find the tales of your exploits quite fascinating. It must have required immense strength and courage.”

“It required duty,” he said forthrightly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And an ability to see through distractions.”

Something in his tone struck you, a subtle but clear implication that left you momentarily speechless. You clear your throat, smoothing out of the front of your dress. “Well, we are all very fortunate that you were not distracted, Your Grace. Otherwise, who knows where we might be?”

Simon’s lips twitched, standing straighter than ever, but his eyes remained hard. “Yes, distractions can be dangerous. Such as a ballroom, where idle chatter and trivial pursuits often mask the true nature of one’s character.”

He eyed you up and down as he spoke, and you feel as though the wind has been knocked out of your lungs. You feel your cheeks heat up with anger at his veiled insult.

“Your Grace, I must respectfully disagree. A ballroom is where one’s true character is often revealed; most often through grace, kindness, and the ability to navigate society with dignity.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, his expression unmoved. “It is easy to speak of ‘grace and kindness’ when one has never faced true adversity, my Lady. Perhaps your perspective would be different if you had seen the world as it truly is.”

Your temper flares at his condescension, your grip tightening on the skirts of your dress as you step closer. “And perhaps, Your Grace,” you hiss, “if you had ever taken the time to understand the world beyond the battlefield, you might see that strength and bravery comes in many forms. It doesn’t give you the right to belittle the lives and joys of others.”

Your father steps forward, sensing the need to intervene. “Now, now,” he says, his tone conciliator. “Let not a misunderstanding spoil the evening.”

But the damage had already been done. Simon’s eyes remained fixed on you, eyebrows pinched and eyes cold. He had offended you greatly, swiping at your character even though he knows nothing of you.

With a final cursory glance at him, you excuse yourself with as much dignity as you could muster, your heart pounding with anger and hurt.

As you walk away, you could feel Simon’s gaze boring into your back. You do your best to shake off your emotions, trying to regain your composure. An evening that had started with hope and lightness had turned bitter. And while the Duke might have won many wars, he would find that you were not one to back down easily. You were determined to show him that in the realm of society, you were just as formidable an opponent as he was in war.

> part 2

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme #*ੈ✩ simon “ghost” riley

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writingjourney · 5 months ago

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𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

!!! this fic contains spoilers for RHRN, do not read on if you wish to remain spoiler-free!!!

It is an involuntary trust exercise. To give up what he built for half a decade, the legacy he took over, being forced to let it rest in the hands of someone else. Or: Copia is taking up his new position. It’s not an easy feat.

content: 1.8k words, gn!reader, angst, grief, hurt/comfort, some fluff and kisses, post!rhrn so spoilers, established relationship

Masterlist – Ao3 link

1 – White dust sheets cover the furniture like ghosts of a life left behind. The path forward is hidden underneath layers of insecurity and grief but as he packs up years of work in pre-used cardboard boxes it almost feels as though he cannot see the path at all.

His new office is just down the hall. It is a fast job. Two trips and his desk has become another ghost. One more trip and he has emptied out all personal belongings from the dusty shelves. The rest stays, not useful to him anymore in his new function.

It is an involuntary trust exercise. To give up what he built for half a decade, the legacy he took over, being forced to let it rest in the hands of someone else. Unlike his brothers he had no way to prepare who follows his footsteps and perhaps that is where the ache in his belly comes from – the uncertainty.

He cannot quite bring himself to unpack the boxes in his new office yet. But it is not his office anyway, Copia thinks. No, it is his mother’s office and he feels like an intruder placing his things on her desk. Her smell clings to the old fabrics, clings to him, a strong perfume that Copia has not been able to get out of his nose ever since he covered her body with yet another white sheet.

Yet another ghost.

It has not been long, he tells himself, a weak comfort. As he stands here with an old card she wrote him – Welcome Home, C! – he can hear the clicking of his mother’s shoes on the tiled floors like a faint echo that haunts the hallways of the Ministry. Everyone is busy preparing for this transitional period, mourning their Mother Superior, but now it is Copia who has to guide them, navigate them through this darkness.

He realises that he himself has footsteps to follow and that he is just as unprepared. A new era, for all of them.

“Love?”

He turns and his world lights up for a brief moment. You occupy the doorframe in a black mourning habit, the one all Siblings chose to wear in honour of his mother. Of course he finds that it suits you better than anyone else. But perhaps that is because he has felt the sturdy fabric against his wet cheeks so many times now that it means comfort, home.

“Do you still need help with the boxes?” you ask.

All he can do is shake his head. You approach and he wants to close the card, hide it away, not even sure why. You have seen the fallout, you have held him through the worst of it. Perhaps he is ashamed, in a way, that he cannot move on as fast as his new role demands of him.

“Was this from her?” you ask, nestling up to his side.

“Mhm.”

His hand is trembling lightly as you lay yours to rest on top of his. The swipe of your thumb against his bare wrist sends goosebumps down his spine and when you wrap the other arm around his waist his eyes are watering.

“Perhaps you can frame it, together with some photos,” you suggest.

He nods, leaning into your embrace as a solid rock forms in his throat. You hold him and he lets the silent tears run down his cheeks, gathering at the dip of his chin. Your thumb continues to draw slow crescents over his pulse. He can’t speak. He does not have to.

✦ ✧ ✦

2 – He is glued to the mirror.

You try not to fuss, he is nervous as is. It is first official day, after all.

“I didn’t know you had a new uniform,” you say with a lint roller in hand, joining him in the bedroom. The jacket is brand new, all black but unusual in its ornamentation, satin lapels that run from his neck towards his armpits. A clerical collar underneath sparkles against his Adam’s apple.

“I eh… splurged,” he says, cheeks dusted a bashful red.

He says it like he is wasteful, does it whenever he treats himself to something, but you also know he is wearing the same black winklepickers he wore as a Cardinal ten years ago, never replaces any pieces of clothing until he finds holes in the fabric, that he only bought new jackets when he could use them on stage to look his best for the audience. The suit is no different, it is as much a boost to his confidence as it is a display of his new status. A performance.

“It is a rather nice suit,” you note, running the lint roller down his back.

“Mhm.” He pauses, looks down at himself and tugs at the sleeves. “It is… unfamiliar.”

“You wear it well, Copia.”

He smiles and his confidence resurfaces. You find that he looks handsome in a completely new way. You have seen so many facets of him that you can tell he is beginning to mold himself into this role, even if he might not see it himself yet. In the mirror, a stranger is looking back at him through black-rimmed eyes but in time he will see himself again, a grown version.

“It is not all,” he says. “I… found something. In the desk drawer.”

He points to a velvety black box on the dresser. Inside, you find a beautiful ornament, two ruby brooches holding a bejewelled black grucifix, another ruby at the bottom. It is one of the most beautiful, elaborate pieces you have ever seen.

“A gift, I think.”

He looks uncertain when you glance up. But you have no doubt that it was meant for him, meant for today. You carefully take it out of the box, delicate as it looks it feels sturdy and well-crafted. One brooch to each lapel and the grucifix dangles over his heart. Light from the window catches in the gemstones, a prism splitting the ray into sparkles that reflect in the mirror, a spectacle of multicoloured beams flickering across the walls.

Copia watches the dancing lights, mesmerised, until the sun hides behind a cloud and the room is gloomy yet again. When you focus back on him a tear pearls from his left eye, running down his cheek and leaving a black streak in its wake. The piece is more than jewels – it is a memory, a promise, a token of trust.

“It is beautiful,” you say. “As are you, Copia. So beautiful.”

His smile is tinged with sadness but there is hope, now, too. You smooth out his jacket, admiring him for a moment, unconcealed, and he must see it in your eyes because the smile shifts until one corner of his mouth pulls into a lighthearted smirk.

“Do I get a kiss?” he asks.

You grab the satin and pull him close. One day you are going to peel him out of this jacket and it won’t feel heavy anymore.

✦ ✧ ✦

3 – You gently wipe at his under-eye. The black smudge is persistent and you stop when the skin turns red. Copia’s eyes are closed even as he holds you. Wrapped around you he feels hot to the touch, almost feverish. He has gone non-verbal since he came home and you give him the space he needs, soft touches, rest and quiet.

The tension of the day still sits in his muscles, you can feel the knots when you run your hands over his back. The hot shower did not help, nor did the pasta he barely touched for dinner. He did well, everyone said this to you today. Whether he feels it you are not so certain.

You lean in and press a kiss to the round tip of his freckled nose. He blinks at you through tired, reddened eyes, lips curving into a lazy half-smile. His hand tightens at your waist, slides underneath your shirt to feel your skin. He’s your whole world molded into the shape of a man. Love, stored in the crinkles of his crow’s feet, every line on his face, in the brushstrokes of grey at his temples, an endless supply.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, trailing the curve of his spine.

His eyes open and you feel guilty for disrupting his peace. But then he pulls you ever closer, squishing, the softness of your bodies mingling with a comforting warmth.

“I don’t…” He stops, brows pulled together. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I have no doubt that you can.” You study his features, move your hand to trace the lines of tension and smooth them out. He lets you, eyelids fluttering at the soft touch. “Every day from now on will be easier, Copia. My baby, I have such confidence in you. Unshakable.”

The words stir something in him. Some wetness gathers in his odd eyes but he blinks it away. You have to fight your own tears, good tears, for how far he has come. Then Copia nods, nods again but with more conviction. A deep exhale through his nose and he swallows the doubts away.

“You are right, always,” he says. “I was Papa Emeritus IV, eh? I did that.”

“You did.” A smile, proud and amused. “And now you are Frater Imperator.”

“Mhm, I am.”

“You are the head of this church, they are still your flock, adoring you, admiring you, trusting you. None of this has changed.” You cradle his face in both hands, a firm press of your thumbs to his cheekbones. “And you are still the man I love.”

“I am?”

“Forever.”

He closes the gap himself, a grateful kiss, seeking. You try to give him what he needs, firm and soft kisses, hands roaming, legs entangles. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, deeper still until all air escapes you and a dizzy fog fills your head. He is all you know, all you want for the rest of this life you live together.

The kisses slow down, not any less deep, and he cradles your head, keeping you pressed together. There is some need building, a languid wave that fades out in ripples. You feel him stir against your leg but he is not quite here with you, not entirely, and it subsides after a moment.

He breaks away with a heavy sigh, keeps his eyes closed.

“Perhaps not tonight,” you say, stroking his hair.

He nods and rests his forehead against yours. His breath tickles your nose, the embrace tighter than before. It feels easier now, somehow, and you can picture it so clearly. The future, him, and even in your head the world is quiet as you hold him close.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Masterlist – my Ao3 – Join my tag list

#rite here rite now spoilers #ghovie spoilers #rite here rite now #rhrn #rhrn spoilers #ghost movie spoilers #copia x reader #frater imperator x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #frater imperator fanfiction #frater imperator

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ellesthots · 1 month ago

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punished - kinktober 2024

ONESHOT!

read on AO3 ❤️‍🔥

plot: after a disappointing night as Batman, Bruce wants you to make him suffer [not related to Fateful]

pairing: bruce wayne x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, orgasm denial, breath play

words: 2.3k

a/n: hi lovelies!! a little treat for the month of October 🎃 based on the 2023 kinktober prompt list (day 14 - orgasm denial), since they didn’t release an official one this year <3 comments, reblogs, etc SO appreciated 💭

It was your favorite position to have him in, and an opportunity that didn’t come often.

Sometimes, after an especially frustrating night crimefighting—say, the muggers got away, the clues led nowhere, or Batman came too late—he’d arrive back home with that look in his eye. A frustrated, ruminating expression that crowded even the massive rooms at Wayne Manor. A demeanor that screamed ‘I need to be punished’.

It floored you the first time he said as much, a few months ago. When he’d trudged upstairs with his eye makeup still on, the black mess smeared up into his browbone and blotchy in the hollow of his undereyes. The fire in his gaze nearly had you running to the bedroom, chasing fantasies of him fucking you into oblivion, blowing off steam. The promise of his bruising touch was the only thing keeping you satisfied on his long nights away.

But that night was different. The closer he came, the more the fire melted into something gentler, more vulnerable. Still, his jaw was tight, twitching in the way exclusive to angry curses and frustrated sighs. His voice was low and hoarse in your ear, the prick of his stubble grazing the crook of your neck. He exhaled a single, quivering breath before speaking. “Punish me.”

You felt faint. Bruce rarely relinquished control in the bedroom, save times he could tell how desperate you were to be on top. Before he walked toward his room, he caught your eye, a careful gauge of your comfort. As shocking as it was to hear it from his mouth, the big bad Batman, you would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t make your pulse race. You nodded, and he disappeared into the dark hallway behind you.

Alone in the hallway, a dozen lewd thoughts circled you. Your limbs tingled with anticipation, overwhelmed by the sheer mass of options. You’d asked him to punish you before, so this was far from unknown territory… you closed your eyes and imagined which sensations he’d allowed you that you wanted to return.

Choking him would be especially pleasing, and… your mouth curled into a grin and you suppressed a laugh. Of course. He wouldn’t think it was anything until he was already in too deep, a shock to his system, leaving him reeling… the anxiety melted away to a selfish excitement, waiting for the pinch in his eyes, how his face might look, his body tense and wanting, so close yet so impossibly far… fuck.

Your feet were light across the cool manor floor. Alfred was nowhere to be seen, and you were grateful for it. Too many times you’d been concerned he might overhear, but tonight that didn’t seem to be the case. Bruce wanted to be punished, wanted to suffer a bit. It wouldn’t be a feat silently won.

The dynamic had already been switched, entering to him sat on the edge of the bed, his spandex long sleeve he wore on every patrol in a pile by his nightstand. You could see in his eyes that he didn’t know what to expect, which was invigorating. He looked almost meek.

As you approached him, you nearly second-guessed it. It would be punishing for you too, not seeing, hearing, feeling his climax. But holy shit was it exhilarating to be the one standing over him, watching as his eyes deepened their focus on yours, fingers moving to undo his button. Was this the power and excitement he felt each time with you, as you tugged down your satin nightgown, unclasped your lace bra?

Your eyes caught on the slightest tremble in his hands while pulling down the zipper. You put your hand over his, and he halted on contact. You pulled yourself closer and dragged your lips from his jaw to his collarbone. His body was worn, muscles tired. It must’ve been a rough night. Your free hand caressed his back, tracing gentle, reassuring circles between his shoulderblades. “Remember your safe word?”

Bruce was putty in your hands, nothing more than a breathy, needy whisper. “Yes.”

Having said the magic words, you placed your hand around his neck, pushing him flush on his back against the mattress. You watched his eyes flash as you tightened your grip, swallowing like his mouth had gone dry. You placed a hand to his sternum as you climbed on top, where you felt his pulse thunder beneath your palm. You slowly dragged your fingertips along his sweat-soaked skin toward the waistband of his boxers.

His breathing hitched, feeling the movement in his throat as you slipped one, then two fingers underneath the elastic. A heady, potent feeling of intoxication swept you, having him completely at your mercy. His face bloomed pink under the pressure of your hand, his eyes a steady pulse of blue, singularly focused as a man starved.

“Were you bad tonight?” Your voice was sweet like honey. He nodded as much as he could within your vice grip, and his lashes fluttered, as if ashamed to admit it. The way the moonlight illuminated the curve of his biceps, caressed the snags of violence across his skin, you felt dizzy. His voice held its own echo, like he’d been hollowed out. “Very.”

Oh how you longed to kiss those lips… “Mmm, can’t have that.” You pulled your hand out from his boxers, as if you had changed your mind about touching him. Your fingers traipsed along the sides of his torso, causing him to shudder. The sensation brought sparks to your fingertips. His eyes searched your face, his desire increasingly evident, desperate to be taken care of. Your fingers caught on the subtle slopes and valleys of his abdomen, skimming the raised scars on his chest, moving agonizingly slower until they reached your mouth.

Bruce’s pupils dilated as he watched you throat your fingers, spit strings falling down your chin as you pulled them away. He moaned as your slick fingers found the base of his cock. He was already hard. Very hard. You squeezed your fingers firmer round his throat with each stroke, drawing strangled moans out of him that only made you press harder, move faster. His head dug into the pillow in glorious agony, the tension in his throat heightening each slip of your hand. You felt every reverberation of his moans within your palm. Every inhale, every exhale. God, it was so fucking hot… you pressed your knees together on the bed, feeling your pussy start to throb.

“Fuck, mmph,” his hands moved up to grip the edge of his pillow, his knuckles going white. He was becoming lost in it, obvious by the shivering moans gasping out of him, the way his hips drove up to match the rhythm of your hand. He was wound up, messy. His hair splayed in dark clumps across his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut, brows furrowing. Seeing him like this, so enraptured in your touch, it could’ve overwhelmed you if you weren’t so stubborn.

But he kept moaning, and his chest kept heaving, and the slip of his dick in your hand was mind-numbingly torturous… when you knew he could be inside you, and the only thing standing between you and his thick, long… you pumped harder, biting the inside of your cheek, hyperfocusing on his mouth like it wasn’t the precise thing making it worse. You noticed your hips subtly moving in concert with his, wanting to lean closer and fucking feel him. Your eyes trailed to his fingers curling around the linen pillowcase, pinching the folds, metabolizing what his moans failed to, and it broke the last thread.

You slowed down, his eyes snapping open at the shift, chest heaving. His pupils were blown, and goddammit, you felt like you could burst. You bunched up your shirt to get it out of the way and straddled him, shoving your thong to the side. If he wasn’t getting release tonight, you’d find it. Sinking onto him was otherworldly, his dick achingly hard, your cunt already puffy and soaked like you’d been at this for hours, welcoming him readily. Your grip slipped on his neck as you rode him, your vision blurring between the wet, slapping sounds of him driving into you, and the groans mingling in the space between your mouths.

He married his hands to your hips to pull you down harder, and it took every ounce of self-control to refuse him. Usually you savored the grip of his fingers, he knew it made you weak, but you were teetering on the edge of a cliff. In a movement that read to your body as blasphemy, as sin, you slammed forward, shoving your hand back around his throat. His arms slacked at his sides as you chastised him. “Manners, baby… only me.”

Your body flattened against him and you left sloppy kisses along his jugular, bathing in the sensation of him hitting your g-spot over, and over… your hands pawed at his jaw, shrieking as you felt tension coil in your stomach, your heart quickening to a fever pitch. Small trails of black fell down his cheeks, the warmth of your colliding bodies running his eye paint.

You knew him well, well enough to know he was lost in it, and that he knew you were there, too. He’d long abandoned the proposition of punishment, relishing in the feeling of your hot, cushioned walls enveloping him, drowning in the symphony of your moans. You could tell he needed this, the way his hips chased yours, slamming into you with increasing abandon. You were almost there, but he was too… if you finished, he would. God, now you really wanted to punish him.

In a swift motion, you slunk between his legs, his dick throbbing against your thigh as it slid completely out of you. A whine cracked the edge of his moan. He propped up on his elbows, panting, watching as you moved both hands to his shaft. By this point his cock was aching, possibly the hardest it’d ever felt. Every time your fingers glided over his tip you’d catch some of his arousal, mingling it with your own with each push, pull.

You had to get this over with now, or you were going to cave. You whispered your lips along his shaft, his hips jerking involuntarily with every gentle swirl of your tongue along the rim. Sweat and adrenaline closed your lips around his head, your hands working the base.

“Baby,” he whimpered, his head falling back. His shoulders relaxed into the feeling, his elbows slipping against his sheets. His lashes were fluttering, his abs tightening, his mouth parting a little, more, a lot… your body became tight with need, borrowing some of the anguish you were sure he’d be feeling soon.

You removed it from your mouth with a subtle pop, savoring the taste of him as you licked your lips. “Look how much of a mess you are.”

His brows knit together as your hands wrung the length of him, his breathing becoming increasingly labored. He was so pretty like this, writhing underneath you. So responsive…

The moans you were pulling out of him almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do. Almost.

A high-pitched groan paired with the twitch of his dick signified the building of his climax. He had no fucking idea, but he’d asked for it. Your brow cocked and he nodded, the edges of his breaths ragged and frayed. “I’m so,”

“Close?”

He nodded again, his inhales shallow and stilted as you increased your fervor, pumping him straight to the edge. His gasps could’ve split the windows, pitchy whines expelling from his chest. “Yes, yes,”

“So close, hmm?” You slowed down just so, barely, imperceptible to someone as thrown as he was. “So fucking close,”

“Just like that, oh, fuck, fuck,” His movements drew erratic, his hips fucking himself into your hand, sweat pouring down his face. You bit back a giggle, watching his body begin to surrender, wishing you could bottle this moment in time. The instant you felt his body prep a shudder, you shot back, ceasing all contact.

He choked on a strangled moan, his eyes flashing wide in shock, his mouth flying open. On your knees at the foot of his bed, you watched his body stretch toward release, unable to grasp it. He slowly attempted to get his bearings, his body heaving with unspent pleasure. You blushed as you witnessed his cock throb in vain—right there, but not quite.

You smirked at him as you ran your hands up his calves, his body vibrating. He blinked hard, whiplash ravaging his system. Your voice was a low, teasing purr. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

His exhausted eyes held the hint of a glare, his teeth gritting hard as he accepted the loss. His heart jammed against his ribs, screaming in protest. He fell back against the sweat-soaked pillow, bringing his hands up to rub his face, hiding the bitter heat flushing his cheeks. “Christ,”

You stood, the bed creaking softly beneath you. You twirled your shirt off and tossed it by the door of his bath, all but skipping over to it. “I’d help you clean yourself up, but…” When you looked back, his dick was softer, his breathing starting to regulate. His eyes flicked over to you, his breath deepening, as if overwhelmed by the sight of you.

He hauled a sigh from the depth of his lungs, agonizingly situating upright. He steadied his breathing for a few beats, stomach coiled tight, body heavy. Jesus fucking Christ. As wholly, entirely frustrated as he was, he was undeniably impressed; his tense, electrified body the ultimate testament, unable to block a boyish grin from revealing itself to you. “Stop celebrating.”

You hummed your way to his shower, choreographing the shape of your hands slammed against the fogged glass. “Careful what you wish for.”

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pbnbucks · 3 months ago

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Brittney Griner fluff/smut: play-wrestling together but reader ends up getting horny

word count : 542

warnings : cussing, smut, straight up filth

summary : what went from playing around in your bed ended up with you both naked and sweaty

you held the 6’8 giant in a playful head lock as she flips you on to your back as she lays in between your legs as her lower half grinds on you as her hands find there way to your waist as accidental moan slips away from your mouth.

you hide your face in the crook of brittney’s neck over your embarrassed as laughs leave her mouth “what was that” she teases as you mumble a ‘nothing’ as she plays with the waistband of your sweats.

“stopp” you whine as her hand begins to find its way to your ass cheek and the other messing with your bra strap unhooking it with her hand as she slips it off of you leaving you bare under her while she places kisses on your sensitive nipples.

“B hurry up, please” you whine out but your desperate pleas where cut short when 2 of her long thick fingers entered in to your soaking core as you walls tighten around them as you both moan at the feeling. “thats it baby take my fingers sweet girl”

she coos in your ear cutting off your moans arching your back at the tension in the room with you both so desperate for each other. her purposely moaning in your ear turned you on even more for her opening your legs wider for her as they began to shake from the overwhelming pleasure she sent through your sopping core

“such a good girl, wanna give you my baby so bad” she was fond of talking dirty to you during your intimacy always worshiping your every movement. she licked a stripe from your collarbone to your chin “so fucking pretty, tell me how good you feel mama”

she kisses the bottom of your ear as the noises coming from your wet pussy embarrassingly grew louder making you whimper from her fast movements. “feels so good brittney, so fucking good” you cry out as your hands grip the satin sheets as she laughs at your actions when her other hand presses against your throat gripping it barely, just enough for pleasure from the action.

the aching knot grew in your stomach as your walls tightened around brittney’s long harsh fingers that has once touched every party of your body. “daddy im, fuck- im gonna cum” you sobbed out as your hands lingered to her back as your fingers were now digging in to her soft watery skin leaving a long streak of marks.

“thats it baby, cum on daddys fingers” her whispers in your ear turned to nothing as her fingers curled up in your core hitting the perfect spot pushing the knot to its breaking point as your liquids coated brittneys fingers as she pulled them out in to her mouth sucking every bit of your cum off as her fingers come out leaving a popping noise.

“your nasty” she rolls her eyes at your comment knowing you both have done worse with each other, many things could be named. “so you will let me spit in your mouth but when i lick your cum off of MY fingers its nasty?” your shrug your arms weakly and lazily laughing at her being offended by your comment “i said what i said b”

#brittney griner x reader #brittney griner fic #brittney griner smut #brittney griner #wnba #wnba masterlist #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wnba players #wnba basketball

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devilsmenu · 10 months ago

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"Thanks for this. Not everyone in DC is nice like you" Pildo said thanking her. "I'm Pildo by the way" he hold out his hands to her.

"I can imagine." Satine chuckled lightly and put her papers into her briefcase again. She picked up her coffee to allow the other to sit. "You should have enough space."

#mischiefxmuses #feat satine #ch: pildo #drink tw

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fanaticsnail · 6 months ago

Note

Hi, I was wondering if I could ask Crocodile for kissing booth, please? He's the Best Croco-Daddy!! LOVE HIM!!! He was my first crush aside from King and Ace, and I can't wait for him in the Live ACTION!!!!

The Kissing Booth - Sir Crocodile for Cartoonykat

Word Count: 700+

Notes: I am so excited to see where they're gonna go with him in the live action too! He's so mean, ferocious and terrifying, but look at how kind he is towards animals (One piece comic issue 860). Come and get some possessive Croco-kisses, Cartoonykat!

The thud of expensive leather hitting the gravel road with each heavy, crunching footfall had your ears stand alert to attention. A soft clink of cool metal meeting your glass jar at your side prompted your brows to draw focussed and lips to purse in focus at the person in front of you.

“Tsk, what’s this?” you heard a disapproving and unimpressed voice call to the side of you, “2,000 Berry for a kiss? That hardly seems a reasonable price for such a feat.” You furrow your brows in a deep frown at the presumed criticism at the notion of an exchange of affection for Berry.

“If you don’t like the idea of donating Berry to charity,” your pout was heard in each of your articulated words, “Kindly move along and make way for someone who does.” A soft rumbled chuckle reverberates in the chasms of your guests chest as a puff of sour smoke clouds your lungs. You cough and wince at the cruel intrusion in your breath, but attempt to brave your face.

“On the contrary,” the stranger uttered, placing a handful of papers and coins within the jar, “I would deem your lips of far greater value than such a meager amount.” The sizzle of smoke dimming rose in your ears, your blindfold truly inhibiting your ability to know the expression on the face of your new guest.

“Oh?” you ask him, folding your arms and crossing your legs as you recline against the barstool, “And what value would you place on my lips, sir- oh!” You squeak as you feel him cage you beneath him, his overpowering aura dominating you at your booth.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” he whispered against your lips, immediately surging forward and capturing your breath with a bruising and intense kiss.

Gripping the base of your stool for support, you feel something metal circle the back of your neck and draw your face up to meet him. His right hand reached down to the stool, clasping around your hand and gently squeezing your digits in a bid to have you release your chair and draw your hand up within his.

He raises your hand, placing your palm flat on his chest above his heart, while he gently brushes his nose with yours. Angling his face, he gently coaxes more intensity from you with each intentional and possessive motion.

Your hand gently caresses his chest, feeling the textures and materials of silks, satins and embroidery embellishing his broad stature. He hums into your lips, the gentle touch against his body contrasting the ravaging he was pressing into your lips.

He releases your lips from his intense oscillation, pressing one final ounce of contradicting sweetness in a soft kiss before pulling away entirely. Your lips remain parted and partially bruised, breath hitching and panting to come down from such an amassment of passion so overwhelmingly hastily placed against you.

“Hm, what would be an appropriate fee to pay for such overwhelming sweetness?” he uttered against you, a chuckle depicted in his tone. You felt the metal object gently scrape your skin as he withdrew it from circling your neck.

“While I would say you’re priceless,” he snickered gently, his hand reaching up and pinching your chin, “I would never dream of stooping so low to relay such humor as a bid to flatter you.” You heard a few more leaves fall into the jar. “Especially since you are worth much more than pretty words and a handful of Berry.”

The figure retreated, leaving you sitting stunned beneath your blindfold and processing what just occurred between you and them: You took his initial words as an insult, depicting your disdain by insulting him, prompting him to flatter you with pretty words before and after claiming your lips with his.

Your perplexion would remain with you for the remainder of the day, only growing more intense when you realized just how much Berry was in the jar at the end of the night. The hulking figure of Sir Crocodile would not leave his generosity and gratuity left unclaimed, and would return to you as your shift finishes at the end of the night to claim more kisses from you - if that was truly what you desired from him.

#one piece #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece kisses #op crocodile #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #kissing booth event #follower milestone #ask snail #snail answers #fluff #flirting #kisses

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deonsx · 11 months ago

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When You Ask Them To Be Tougher

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor

Content: Nfsw

Dazai Osamu

Finally, both of you were tired and you were at home, but as if Dazai had enough energy, he climbed on top of you while you were lying on his bed. "Hmm..Bella.." He took your hands and spoke, "Pft I see you still have enough energy" He giggled at what you said and gave you a lot of kisses in the world. You knew what he wanted, of course you wanted it too, but he was always so gentle with you...like a glass that would break more than it should, but you always wanted him to treat you harder, but you never expressed it

You stopped him with your hand as he was already taking your underwear down from your leg. "Osamu..I need to say something.." the brunette, who looked confused, looked at you in surprise and the room fell into a long silence. "And? What is this? Is it something worth ruining the current atmosphere? " you couldn't speak "So you know..You're so kind to me..I'm so happy about it! I'm not saying I'm unhappy..just a little more.." dazai frowned "A little more?" You finally let out a deep breath, "I want you to be harder on me during sex”

Dazai's face didn't change, he looked serious. "Osamu?" You asked trying to break away from the silence. "Yes, my love, I understand." Dazai narrowed his eyes looking at you in a very obedient tone. You smiled at this and pulled him into a hot kiss. His hands went to your legs and he quickly untied the bra, which was the last remaining underwear on you, and threw it aside, leaving scars on your neck that will remain tomorrow. His fingers danced on your chest, while he was playing with one, he was sucking the other with bites with his mouth, then he slowly spread your legs

"Wow..a wet pussy already? Is this because of your request today?" He slowly leaned down to your ear and bit your ear. You felt his breath everywhere. "You are very naughty, aren't you? You are a naughty woman." You shivered as the cold air touched your pussy while he spread your legs with both hands. Dazai unzipped his zipper and you saw that he was already hard. This made your face blush. He slowly adjusted it towards you and gently put his head inside. It was the same as usual, but what was unexpected was that he suddenly pushed in. "Fuck, Osamu!" Your back arched quickly and you threw your head back screaming, "Nothing's Even Started Yet, 'Donna, Let Me Take This Chance You've Given Me”

Chuuya Nakahara

A shining red satin dress and blood-coloured wine on a beautiful dinner table. Everything that adorns this table is together, but for whom? Chuuya Nakahara Your boyfriend PM Leader finds less time for you just with this excuse, so you are angry with him, but is this the real reason for your anger? Not really... You always loved your night life... I also loved your fantasies in your sexual relationships, but it seemed like everything was too monotonous, everything was so simple and calm, you always wanted more from him, you had dreams, you dreamed dreams, but you never had the chance to tell him this

Tonight was a golden tray presented to you to give you that chance, you were going to do your best to seduce him, a thin red dress, black ankle high heels, a silver jewelery necklace, blow-dried hair, simple make-up and spicy perfume, everything was what suits you best, the doorbell rang and The sound of your heels echoed every time you walked on the parquet floors, each step became more exciting to see your lover's face. "Welcome, my love" You said to him in a flirty tone

his tired self seemed to recover quickly he chuckled "you look attractive darling...but all this preparation? are we waiting for someone?" you made a frown on your face "Not really...a special night" chuuya frowned "special?? I forgot an important day? that's impossible.." you giggled at his daze and shook your head no "It's a special night just to talk to you" He turned towards you while looking aside his jacket and hat. "hmm? What do you want to say?" You tried to look away in embarrassment but you had already made up your mind

"My love...I...I think our relationship, that is, our night life, has become a little simpler.." This sentence made Chuuya frown, "Do you mean it's become boring?" You tried to put it together quickly, "no no! Don't think like that...I'm just very towards me...I think you're being delicate" Chuuya caressed your hair and chuckled lightly. You didn't understand this and made an angry face. "What..what's so funny??" Your lover didn't speak and took you in his arms with an unexpected move. "H-hey!" you thought he was taking you to your bedroom but he placed you at the table with the wine "What are you doing??" Your boyfriend remained silent and slowly undressed you by placing kisses and bites on your neck. He slowly took the wine glass and dripped it from your neck to your breasts. "If You're So Shy, Then Let Me Handle İt, You Won't Be Able To Walk Tomorrow”

Fyodor Dostoyevski

Your relationship with your lover had been going on for a year, of course you had a night life, but... he didn't spare enough time for you, but even if he did, he acted very lightly. You knew him, he wasn't that type of person, but then why was he treating you like that? Your nights came to your mind... "My love, I need you... " your fingers crossed his chin as you spoke to him in a flirty tone "Hmm? You need me so much right now darling" whenever you asked him and he agreed it was only licks oral or fingering

You were tired of begging him, of course you didn't tell him openly, but you knew he wasn't stupid either, so why was he hesitant to touch you? Have you ever had real sex in your one-year relationship? suspicious...of course you didn't suspect him, you knew he wasn't cheating then why? Finally you were going to discuss this issue with him. You were really tired of complaining. You tied your hair up in a messy bun and wore a light black dress. Fyodor always came home on time, this was like his routine. Finally, at exactly 20.00 the door rang and finally

You saw your lover with beautiful long purple hair, she had tied her hair into a ponytail, her beautiful purple eyes gave you a quick sharp look "I didn't know you were waiting for me so eagerly" she let out a small breath and quickly walked in she doesn't seem to care much "Fyodor...please I want to talk to you you have to listen ?" Fyodor took off his jacket and put it on the coffee table, rolling his eyes and leaning into the comfortable chair. "What is the reason for this relentless conversation, darling? You seem nervous these days." His eyes followed you until you sat next to him. "Or is some bastard bothering you? Just tell me, I will get rid of him in the most painful way." " you placed your hands on his hand "no no! this is about you..I-I mean us"

You felt so nervous 'what if I break his trust?' you thought, "How long has it been since I last had a truly passionate night with you?...I mean..you love me but you act so gentle and untouchable towards me" Dostoyevsky raised his eyebrows in surprise and tilted his head slightly to the side. This was the first time you saw him make that face. It could have been "I.. I heard you liked such things a long time ago.." your eyes widened old memories came to your mind when you were talking to your friend and she asked you what kind of men you like and you said "Let him treat me like his goddess~~fufufu" the things you said teasingly are now got into trouble

“Oh..those were just things I said casually..” fyodor gently held your chin with his hand “just like that?” You slowly lowered your head and leaned towards his hand, Fyodor's tired eyes closed slightly and he giggled. His harmonious giggle embarrassed you and made you blush. His hands wandered over your black dress. "I understand, dear.. It's all just nonsense." He left bites on your neck and made you blush. He pulled you onto his lap and while you was waiting for him to gently take off the dress you was wearing, he caused you to tear it from your chest. "Ah..!" It caused an unexpected gasp as you took off your underwear and threw them to a corner of the room “So You've Been Lusting After Me For A Long Time, Darling...Today I'll Make Sure You Take İt All İn”

Enjoy!

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skzstannie · 1 year ago

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“We’ll get through this together”

SKZ -> Hyunjin x 9th member!reader (feat. Felix) [PLATONIC]

Genre: angst CW: robbery, gun shots, minor descriptions death WC: ~2000

Hi guys! An angsty fic for you this time; I hope you enjoy! Also, anybody have a preference -> angst or fluff??

Happy scrolling!

“Y/N! Come here and try this on! It would look so hot on you,” you hear Hyunjin yell from the other side of the store.

You roll your eyes at his loudness, but hurry over so he doesn’t do it again.

“Y/N! Where are-“

“Shhh! Why are you trying to disrupt the whole store!” You look at him incredulously before your eyes find the beautiful, forest green satin dress he has in his hands.

“Geesh, I just thought my amazing maknae would look great in-“

“Shhh!” You shush him again, your eyes still zoned in on the stunning piece of fabric.

“Quit shushing me!” He whispers, playfully nudging you. “I found this in your size. Go try it on.” He takes the other articles of clothing from your arms, slinging them over his broad shoulder before gracefully handing you the dress. You run your fingertips over the soft material, thinking how good this will feel once you have it on.

“Thank you, Hyunjin. This is really beautiful. In my favorite color, too. Where are the fitting-“

You cut yourself short upon hearing the deafening sound of glass being shot out. Your eyes widen and you quickly grab ahold of Hyunjin’s arm, bringing it closer to your chest. He quickly pulls the two of you into one of the more secluded isles, putting a singular finger up to his lips.

You press your lips together, inhaling deeply to stay calm. You listen carefully for any other signs of danger, and your startled by an aggressive shout that comes from the front of the store.

“Give me the money!” The unknown man yells. You hear some shuffling, then a women begins to cry out. You hope it’s in fear and not from pain.

“I can’t!” She chokes out. She’s crying harder now, and you whimper when you hear the gun go off again, followed by a loud thud.

Hyunjin drags you further into the store. He sees the door saying ‘Employees Only’, and you guys make a hurried dash for it.

He grabs the handle, opening it quietly but quickly, and he pulls you inside.

Tears flow freely down your face now as you guys look around for the best place to hide. You find a storage bin that looks large enough to fit the both of you, and Hyunjin is quick to climb inside, easing you down in between his legs. He wraps his arms around your waist for a moment, trying to calm you down.

“I need you to try to stay calm. I know this is scary, but we’re going to be ok.” He reassures you, squeezing you so tight that you find it hard to take a full breath.

Hyunjin looks to his left, finding a pile of neatly folded clothes sitting on a desk. He’s quick to brush them onto you guys, laying down a little lower so that the clothes cover you guys completely.

“Hyun,” you whimper, your lips shaking with fear, “What about Felix? Where is he?”

“Felix will be ok, too,” you feel his lips press to the back of your head, and you’re all of a sudden aware of how his hands are shaking against your stomach. “He’s smart. He’ll find a good hiding spot. He’ll be alright.” His voice trembles a bit, and you know he’s just as worried about Felix as you are.

“Hyunjin, we have to go find him!” You harshly whisper. Attempting to pull away from him to stand, you take his hands and roughly pull them apart and away from your waist.

He’s quick to react though, and he grabs onto you again, preventing you from leaving your spot.

“Y/N don’t be ridiculous!” He seethes, holding you even tighter than before. “If you go out there you could be shot! Do you understand that!?”

You start to cry harder, your sobbing becoming more vocalized the more scared you become.

“But Felix must be so scared by himself, we have to help-“ you’re cut off by the sound of the door squeaking open. Heavy footstep come into the room, and you let out an involuntary gasp. Hyunjin quickly covers your mouth with one of his hands, gently pulling your head back til it’s resting on his shoulder.

The salty tears flow from your eyes at an alarming rate, and your heart is beating out of your chest now. As you lay, trembling in fear, you listen as the footsteps come closer to your spot. The sound of papers shuffling fills the void before you jump when you hear something shatter against the concrete floor. You know well enough not to gasp, the severity of the situation growing by the second.

Hyunjin’s holding you so tightly now, your bodies practically one. Your heart breaks for your best friend, feeling his legs and hands quivering against your body. You’re both sweating bullets from the adrenaline, and the large pile of clothes surely isn’t helping.

The man begins to walk away, and you allow yourself to breathe again. Hyunjin’s palm is still pressed tightly to your mouth, surely not trusting your sobs will stay quiet without it there.

Your concern grows from the eerie silence that fills the room, not knowing where the man wandered off to.

A scream catches in your throat upon hearing another gunshot. Hyunjin’s, however, did not get caught in his throat, and he lets out a loud gasp from the noise. Your eyes widen in fear, knowing damn well that the man knows in you’re here.

The unknown man chuckles deeply, and he makes his location known again when he starts to walk. To your dismay, you hear him getting closer to you guys once again.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin shakily whispers under his breath, “I’m so sorry.” He begins to cry harder, no longer trying to hide the sound of his sobs. Your tears cascade down your face like a waterfall, most of them catching on Hyunjin’s hand.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He asks antagonistically.

The air in the bin starts to get lighter as one by one the man removes the articles of clothing. As he takes his sweet time, you start to haphazardly dig through your purse that rests uncomfortably by your hip. You blindly search, feeling around for what you’re looking for.

Your heart leaps when your fingers graze the cool plastic of the pepper spray. Chan had gifted it to you for your birthday, and you’ve never been more grateful.

Thankful for the mockingly slow removal of the clothes, you’re able to adjust the pepper spray in your hands. You use your other hand to make sure the lock is turned, and you ready it, preparing to unleash the whole canister if you have to.

The clothes feel awfully light now, and you decide it’s now or never.

You abruptly break through the remaining clothes sitting atop your heads. Hyunjin tries to grab for you, but you use all your strength to fully stand. You have no hesitation in finding the man’s eyes and unleashing a continuous stream of pepper spray directly at them.

He yells in shock, falling to his knees. He drops his gun, his fingers digging into the skin around his eyes, pulling his face taut while trying to find some sort of relief from the torturous stinging.

You know that’s your cue, and you roughly pull Hyunjin up, and you both make a mad dash towards the door. You run like your life depended on it through the store, Hyunjin leading the way towards the front exit. You make it to the front of the store, and you let out a sob of relief upon seeing police officers begin to rush into the scene.

One particular officer spots the two of you looking distressed, covered in a mixture of both sweat and tears. He hurries over to you, directing you the rest of the way out of the store.

“Hey now,” he speaks in a soft voice, “You guys are safe. Are you hurt? Did the shooter hurt you guys?”

Now safely out of the store, you allow yourself to collapse to the ground, your knees completely giving out from physical and mental exhaustion.

Hyunjin, surprisingly being the more level-headed one at the moment, answers for you guys, “No, we’re ok, but-“

“Felix!” you yell, standing from the ground and stumbling into the officer, “My friend was in there with us, but he didn’t hide with-“

“Y/N, Hyunjin!” Your head whips to the entrance of the store, and you see, much to your relief, Felix being escorted out by a couple of officers.

You find yourself smiling, a happy choked sob leaving your lips. You go to run to him, feeling the resistance from the officers arms that you didn’t realize were holding you up.

Felix meets you halfway, and you collide, both of you crying tears of relief. Hyunjin hurriedly joins your hug, wrapping his long arms around the both of you, squeezing as hard as he can.

“Felix,” you cry into his shoulder, “I was so scared.”

“I know jagiya, I know. We’re all safe now.” He soothes, running his hand down your hair.

A loud band resounds from the store, and you yelp in shock, burying your head deeper into the material of Felix’s shirt. A few policeman exit the store, their eyes scanning the crowd alertly. Their eyes land on the three of you, and they begin to make their way over.

“Hey guys, we’re going to bring you to the station for some questioning. We have the security cameras, but we figured it’d be easiest to do this now.” You all nod your heads, and pull apart. However, you keep a firm grip on both of their hands, refusing to break contact completely. As you’re escorted towards the exit of the complex, your eyes catch the body sized bag that lays near the cash register, and you let out another quiet sob for the poor women. No one deserves to die like that.

It’s silent on the way to the police station, only the sound of Hyunjin’s fingers tapping away on his phone filling your mind, no doubt alerting Chan of the traumatic events of the evening. Your thoughts wander again to the poor lady who lost her life, all over some stupid job. Some stupid money. Your heart breaks as you think about her family- did she have kids, a husband? Friends, siblings, parents? Your lips quiver once again before you officially break down, long hard sobs wracking your body. You let out all the emotions you’ve been holding back for the last hour- the sadness, the anger, the fear. It all floods out of your body in salty tears. Your wailing rips through your throat, leaving it sore and raw, but you don’t care. The boys jump beside you, one sitting on each side. They bring their arms around, trying to comfort you as best they can.

“Please don’t cry anymore, jagiya. We’ll get through this together. We’ll be okay.” Hyunjin rubs your back, pressing your head to his chest as best he can in the awkward position you guys are in, all crammed into the backseat.

You get to the police station, and the questioning is over quickly. The three of you answer all their inquiries to the best of your ability, and they release you, wishing you the best. They let you guys know they may contact you again if need be, and you pray it never happens.

As the three of you leave the interrogation rooms, your shoulders sag in relief, and you give a tight lipped smile to the rest of your members who are waiting outside for you.

They rush you guys, swarming you in a group hug. Chan’s the first to speak, “I’m officially never letting you guys out of my sights again, and there’s nothing you can do to convince me otherwise.”

Usually, you’d roll your eyes at Chan’s over protectiveness of you. As the maknae, you’re often at the receiving end of his overbearing concerns. This time, however, you gladly accept it, not having any desire to be apart from him, either.

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ironarrow87 · 7 days ago

Text

Won’t You Smile Just For Me?

Summary: You're having a bad few days. Your friend offers you a ticket to see the infamous radio host live. Can he help lighten your mood?

Warnings: Mentions of blood, implied death

Notes: Currently obsessed with Daisies by Black Gryph0n. Decided to make a a story out of it and shove dear lovely reader into it!

As always, please do not copy or post my work elsewhere.

You actually had no desire to be here. You’d rather be home, in bed, shutting out the world. It was your miserable attitude for the last few days that brought you here, in this audience, for a live show you had little interest in. Your friend had offered you their ticket, pushed it on you even.

“You’ll have a great time!”

“I don’t even know who that is!”

“You’ve never heard of him? Are you kidding? His radio show is so popular right now!”

“I dunno…I’d rather stay home. Didn’t you want to go?”

“You’ve been home for days! I’m worried about you. Please go. You’ll have a great time, I swear. Promise me you’ll go?”

“…okay. I promise.”

So, here you sat, alone in a crowd full of people. Your legs bounced with anxiety as everyone murmured in hushed excitement around you. Hunching your shoulders in an effort to get as small as possible, you hid your face in a cup of tea the staff had served moments before.

As you took a sip of the much needed warmth, you hear the crowd around you buzz with excitement as a man with brown hair and eyes, tanned skin, and a charming grin stretched across his face walks onto the stage. You lower your mug as you listen to him address the audience.

"Well, well, well, my dearest audience! A very good afternoon to all of you lovely souls! I must say, it is a delight, a true pleasure, to have such a fabulous crowd gathered here today—oh, the excitement! I can hardly contain myself!"

He bows and then spreads his arms wide when he stands back up. “Now, now, settle down! Allow me to introduce myself to those who do not know me. Although not knowing who I am by now is quite the feat, haha!”

You swear his eyes zero in on you, and your face burns with embarrassment. You try to hide your face behind your teacup again.

“My name is Alastor, and the majority of you know me from my radio broadcast.” He gives a little bow again, eyes flitting across the room before landing on you again. As if he knew you didn’t know of him. Not really. He broadens his grin to the crowd, twirling the microphone staff in his hands with the familiarity of someone who has done this hundreds of times.

“Now then, on with the show!

It was easy to see why people adored this man. Adorned in a tight fitted red satin vest and dark slacks, he easily captured the audience with songs and stories told in a velvety smooth voice. The charisma that radiated off of him had the audience hanging off his every word and tune.

Though you didn’t want to come in the first place, you found yourself dreading the end of this live in-person show. The very idea brought tears to your eyes as you thought of the empty lonely apartment that awaited you when it was over. To your horror, some tears raced down your cheeks, and you rush to rub them away from your cheeks in the middle of this public setting.

"This show, my friends, was about more than just entertainment! It's about the unforgettable moments that we created. The laughter, the drama, the wonder! The heart-pounding thrills that leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about good old-fashioned fun!"

Alastor’s energy was infectious, and you could feel the people around you just about squirming in their seats as the show drew to a close. “"Ahhh, my wonderful audience, how quickly the time slips away, doesn’t it? You know what they say, time flies when you’re having fun, haha!” He pauses briefly to allow the audience to laugh along with him. “The afternoon was filled with such delightful moments, such charming chaos, and yet—all good things must come to an end, I’m afraid. I do hope you’ll carry the memory with you—like a sweet little song you can’t quite shake, hm?" The crowd matches his suggestive grin as Alastor set the stage for his final piece for the afternoon.

You swallow thickly as his piercing eyes landed on you yet again. He gives you a little wink before starting in on his verse. “Hey pal, hey friend, hey buddy, why so sad, so downright unhappy?” Your heart stills in your chest at the words. He couldn’t be talking about you directly, could he? You follow his movements as he steps off the stage and into the crowd. The radio host moves closer to you, bending at the waist to sing inches from your face. “That's not my cup of tea.” Alastor’s grin widens as you flush. Straightening up, Alastor continues moving through the crowd.

“You know that this could be your last day here on Earth, so buddy please.” He turns, charming smile gracing his features. His eyes land on you once again, and he winks. “Won't you smile just for me?”

You really aren’t sure why you stayed long after everyone had filtered out. You tell yourself that its because the performance has you energized, that Alastor changed your outlook on the future, but honestly, its because you’re afraid to go home. Back to the sadness that seeps into your bones and makes you want to hide away all day.

You sigh, gathering your things and finally ready to trudge home when a voice stops you.

“My, my, still here after my show has long finished? I must have left quite the impression.”

Your startled gaze meets Alastor’s. You meant to be polite to this infamous radio host, but instead you blurt out, “What are you doing here?” Thankfully, Alastor laughs receptively to your question.

“I suppose that’s a fair question. I left something behind, and I didn’t want to worry my staff about collecting it so late after work hours. It was my own mistake, after all, silly me.”

You nod dumbly, unsure how to detangle yourself from this interaction. You clearly spend too long figuring this out because Alastor is already asking you another question.

“Is something troubling you, my dear?” The words are so unexpected, so jarring in this moment, that you felt tears spring to your eyes. You desperately scramble to hide your vulnerability.

“Ah...yeah. Why do you ask?”

Alastor tuts lightly, adjusting his bowtie briefly. “Come now, I’m very good at reading people, my dear. I can tell something is bothering you.”

His insistence in focusing on your distress causes a few tears to fall. You curse yourself for being so weak, for falling apart so quickly at a stranger’s concern as you hurriedly scrub the tears away.

To your surprise, his arms wrap around you and pull you close into his chest, as if he was sheltering you from the world from any danger. His warm embrace smelled of bergamot, leather, amber…and something you just couldn’t quite place. Something…earthy? Or maybe metallic? You’re pulled out of your thoughts as Alastor resumes speaking.

“My dear, my dear, no, you don't have to cry. That ain't a pretty legacy to leave behind.” You give him a watery smile as you recognize the lyrics from his earlier song.

“S-sorry,” you breathe out, stepping away from his hold. He waves you off.

“Nonsense, my dear, we all get out of sorts from time to time.” You nod in agreement, quick to end this social hell you’ve put yourself into. This man, so charming and kind, was trying to cheer you up, but here you were mute and near tears. Ridiculous.

Alastor lifts your chin suddenly, warm brown eyes behind wire bespectacles looking into yours. “You may not have to tell me about what’s running through your mind, dear, but perhaps I could offer you some sort of reprieve for a few moments? Let me show you the entertainment, the pleasures the world has to offer, hm?”

He offers his arm to you, and you hesitate just for a moment. The grin on his face is so kind, so eager to please, that you take the offer. “Excellent! Now, one more thing before we head off into our adventure together.”

“What’s that?”

He looks down at you, his height easily making you feel small before him. “Won’t you smile just for me?”

You give a tiny laugh. And you smile.

You just about forget all the things that have been worrying, stressing, and tugging you down into the depths of despair for the last few days. At least — for a little while. It was no wonder Alastor’s show was so popular. He had a way with showing you the magic in everything.

He walks you through parks and gardens, pointing out the beauty and weaving stories for you as you went. You barely pay attention to where you’re heading, and to be honest, you’re not sure you care right now. He made you feel safe, alive even. Like all the sadness had melted from your body.

"You know I just gotta say, that you might not have a lot of time to waste," he teased, pinching your cheek suddenly. "So lose that long face."

You bat at his hand, laughing, only to find a bright red rose in your face that Alastor had plucked straight from a bush. "Stop and smell the roses while you've got the time." He grins as you inhaled the lovely floral scent he offered you. "Pretty soon you'll be pushing up daisies where the sun don't shine."

You blink, startled by his words, but eventually laugh as you take it to be more teasing from the radio host. Or at the very least, some wisdom he's trying to impart on you about life.

Alastor laughs with you as he guides you onto a forest path.

You have no idea how long you have been walking. It feels like forever, and somehow, like no time at all. Alastor did a great job entertaining you through your entire journey, hands animatedly moving as he recounted stories of his life through the entertainment industry. You hang onto his every word, desperate for a distraction from your own life. Besides, how lucky were you to be spending time with such a celebrity? You'd have to thank your friend for the ticket they forced on you.

Deeper and deeper into the woods, you start to really enjoy the woodsy smells, the sounds of little animals and birds flitting about, and the rustle and crunch of leaves as you you both made your way through. You had long run out of the typical paths, exploring uncharted territory together.

"Oh ho! What's this?" You follow Alastor's gaze to a little wooden shack just ahead. You shift uneasily beside him, the sun setting causing shadows to cast an eerie air around the small hut.

"Ah...I dunno if we should head over there. What if some lunatic lives there?"

Alastor laughs loudly beside you, making you jump a little. "My dear! Where's your sense of adventure? Let's just take a little peek!" He looks to you, eyes searching, hopeful, but ultimately leaving the decision up to you. You felt your fear slip away at his expression, nodding your assent. He grins at you. "Fabulous, dear!"

He leads you up to the door, and you felt a sense of unease as the door easily swung inward with a gentle push from Alastor's hand. Still, trying to be brave and prove yourself worthy of the radio host's time, you follow suit with a big grin on your face.

It died just as quickly as it came about.

On the walls of the little hut were rows and rows of fixed smiles upon placards. Little name tags adorned the jawbones and teeth. Vox. Valentino. Husker. Anthony. So many names that made your head spin.

"W-what..." You choke on your words, bile rising in your throat. What the hell did you both stumble upon? "Alastor...let's get out of here!" The panic was evident in your voice as you turn to look at your new friend.

Your new friend who had his back to you, hands moving as he cleaned something.

Your new friend who turned, brandishing a newly cleaned axe, tossing a red stained towel to the ground.

Your new friend whose glasses glinted with the last of the light from the setting sun.

"Alastor?" you ask, voice strained, small, and full of fear.

He grins.

"Run."

Your lungs burn as your race your way through the trees, blinking back panicked tears. Only now you recognized all the warning signs you blissfully ignored in favor of temporary relief. The narrowing of his gaze during his performance. Tracking you through each set. Marking his target, who was obviously attending his show alone. Conveniently coming back when you were by yourself. The sharpness of his grin when you agreed to come along with him. The smell of blood on him. Or was it metal blades? Maybe the forest earth? Maybe it was all of them.

You had been so foolish.

You pant behind a tree as you try to force oxygen into your lungs, listening for your hunter. That's what he was after all, wasn't he? And you?

His prey.

You hear branches snap in the distance. Then some whistling. Humming even.

"None of us are here to stay, so treat every day like it's a holiday. Until the day you slip away." To your horror, you realize he's singing more of his song. He's taunting you. Telling you how he's had this planned since the beginning.

You start running again.

"Tsk, my dear, my dear, no, you don't have to cry."

You stare up at Alastor, frozen in fear, knees stinging from where you hit the ground. Your back was pressed up against a rock wall. Trapped.

"P-please. Don't hurt me." You swear you see his canines lengthen in his toothy grin as he advances toward you. He continues as if you weren't begging for your life before him.

"That ain't a pretty legacy to leave behind."

Your heart is beating erratically. It may give out before he even has a chance to hurt you. If you were so lucky.

But you both knew you weren't.

It was as if time slowed as you watched Alastor, the infamous celebrity, the radio host, the adored entertainer, raise the axe above his head. And for a brief moment, his eyes and hair seem to gleam red.

"Stop and smell the roses while you've got the time."

It was over quickly. A sharp pain. And then blackness. A mercy.

Alastor laughs, ignoring the sound of dogs in the distance as thrill thrums through his veins. He savored the blood pooling on the forest floor. Your smile was going to make an excellent new addition to his collection.

"Pretty soon you'll be pushing up daisies where the sun don't shine."

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sloanesallow · 5 months ago

Text

(don't) touch

The last thing Sebastian expects is a jealous wife. Tags: MDNI, NSFW! Sexual content, mild bondage (wrists), feat. a needy and submissive Sebastian.

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC | 2k words [Ao3] | [Wattpad] | [Masterlist]

It's rare for Sebastian to be in London, but that is exactly where he finds himself that evening, celebrating the retirement of some ancient, well-respected, and powerful Ministry official. Considering he's only been contracted with the Auror's office as their curse breaker for a year, he's flattered by the invitation, but feels woefully out of place amidst the opulence of his older, more dignified associates.

Still, he manages to blend in—he always does—mingling and socializing with the other guests, many of whom have traveled from all over the world to be there tonight. Somewhere in the shuffle he loses sight of his wife, Sloane, and instead stands flanked by a group of giggling young women he recognizes as some of the Ministry's newest apprentices. Freshly graduated from Hogwarts, they flock to Sebastian, overjoyed to see another young face in a sea of 'old, wrinkly, men'.

"And what department do you work for, Mr. Sallow?"

"Do you live in London?"

"Is it true you were Hogwarts' best duelist?"

"You're still as handsome as your class portrait!"

"Might you be available for a dance, Mr. Sallow?"

Sebastian forces a chuckle, flustered as he realizes they are flirting with him. He's so used to the affection and attention of one person that hearing it from any other's lips makes his gut churn uncomfortably. He is about to respond when he feels a hand slip around the crook of his elbow and the familiar, flowery scent of his wife's perfume surrounds him.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Sloane says.

The young women simultaneously pout. "Why not?"

"Because he will be dancing with his wife."

Their faces blanch. "His...wife?"

"Yes." Sloane's fingers curl a little tighter around Sebastian's arm so that the golden band of her wedding ring is more obvious. When he glances down, her smile is polite, but her eyes are steel. It takes him an embarrassingly long moment to realize she is jealous. "His wife."

Multiple pairs of eyes dart between her hand and his before settling on the floor as they quickly shuffle away. As soon as they are alone, Sebastian clears his throat and arches a curious brow.

"You wish to dance?"

"No," she replies, prompting both his brows to rise. While she doesn't like to be the center of attention, she loves to dance if it's with him. She drops her hand from his arm and tilts her chin up to meet his gaze. "Meet me upstairs in ten minutes."

Sebastian's eyebrows can't raise any higher. "Only ten?"

"Five."

"Three."

He smirks when he sees the corner of her mouth twitch before she turns swiftly on her heel and departs. Sebastian pretends to be interested in the decorations, rocking back and forth on his heels as he counts to one-hundred-and-eighty. As soon as the clock-hand in his mind ticks over he slinks away, pretending to be on his way to the privy before diverting to the staircase instead.

On the landing, he follows his instinct and turns right, grinning when he spots a discarded evening glove on the floor. A heeled slipper is a few paces ahead, a shed stocking a few paces more. The trail leads to a door at the end of a long hallway and Sebastian wastes no time advancing to the treasure waiting on the other side.

As soon as he slips inside the room he leans back against the closed door, stunned to see Sloane already bare and spread out across an elegant bed, her pale skin an alluring contrast to the dark, satin sheets. For a split second he wonders whose bedroom it is before shaking the thought away because he simply does not care.

"Well now, Mrs. Sallow, what do we have here?" Sebastian secures the lock before crossing over to where she is, eager to join her for some unexpected fun.

"Not so fast," Sloane stops his advance with a slight shake of her head and he pauses at the foot of the bed, both hands and one knee already braced on the mattress. He looks at her curiously, surprised by the unfamiliar, assertive tone. "Strip for me."

Her words send a hot spike of pleasure straight to his groin and he flashes a lopsided grin. "Is that an order?"

"Yes."

Sebastian obliges, too aroused to question his wife's mood. He usually leads their intimacy, the dominant force to her softer nature. This side of Sloane is so rarely seen—especially in the bedroom—that he's thrilled to indulge for at least one evening. He slowly starts to remove his clothing, peeling away the layers of his evening attire until the pieces are scattered on the floor along side her dress and undergarments.

Naked, he continues to stand at the foot of the bed, trying not to look too proud as Sloane's eyes dance along his body in admiration, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Come here," she beckons.

His movements remain slow as he crawls over her, never once removing his gaze from her face. He stares down into her shimmering grey eyes and is about to press himself against her body when she reaches up, grasping his shoulders and using one leg swung over his hip to swap their positions. Sebastian is momentarily caught off guard, especially when her hands pin his wrists on either side of his head. Even though it would be oh so easy to break free and flip her back beneath him, he settles back with a grin.

"No touching," she explains. "Not unless I say so."

"Minx," he taunts, earning him a sharp but teasing glare. Sloane only moves when she's sure he won't, though he does crane his head back to watch as she carefully ties each one of his wrists to the headboard with some conjured silk. As she leans over him to secure the knots, her breasts sway above his face and Sebastian cannot resist—he flicks his tongue out against one already-pebbled nipple.

Sloane inhales a startled gasp, and in turn tightens the binds. "Be good," she warns.

Sebastian knows his expression is incorrigible. "I'm always good."

"I beg to differ."

"Oh?" he snickers. "I love when you beg, sweetheart."

She says nothing, and it nearly drives him prematurely off the edge with how confident his wife appears in this role. Still, he can't help but challenge her.

"Do you really think these binds will keep me from touching you?"

Except, when he attempts and fails to break free from them with brute strength alone, he resigns himself to the moment. Sloane flashes a tiny, self-satisfied grin as she leans back on her knees. She's straddling his waist, but besides her legs against his sides, she does not touch him.

"If you're a good boy, maybe you'll get what you want."

Sebastian's cock twitches and he wonders when did she learn to be so wicked.

Sloane slides her hands across his chest, nails softly scratching through the soft dusting of hair along his pectorals. She repeats the motion, causing goosebumps to ripple across his skin. She shifts her body as she lowers herself down again, this time to trail an agonizingly slow path of kisses from his jaw, down his neck and chest to his hips and back again.

Sebastian is not one to beg, or maybe he is, at least when it comes to Sloane and the sweet ecstasy she's denying. She straightens up again, and he shudders as her hands drift down to where he needs her most.

"Do you want me to touch you?" she sounds like desire incarnate.

"Yes," he croaks.

"Yes?"

Sebastian groans, "yes please."

His wife finally shows mercy and grasps his arousal, pumping a few times before swiping her thumb through the pre-come gathered on the tip.

"Fuck, Sloane," he hushes the curse, eyes fluttering closed as she strokes him just the way he likes. He can feel the heat between her thighs as she hovers close, and he rocks his hips back and forth, desperate to be inside of her. For as long as they've been together, his yearning for her has never waned. "Sloane, please."

"Please?" she repeats in a husky whisper.

"Let me..." his voice breaks on a deep moan and he tugs at the silk bindings. "Let me touch you."

"Three minutes," is her reply.

Sloane slows her strokes and Sebastian opens his eyes to see her amused expression. "Huh?"

"You barely lasted three minutes before begging," she declares but Sebastian can't be bothered with embarrassment right now.

"Maybe in this instance," he struggles to speak through his labored breath. "But if you untie me, sweetheart, you'll get the best ten minutes of your life."

Sloane hums in thought. "Five."

He opens his mouth to argue but all that comes out is a strangled sound of pleasure as she angles the head of his arousal to sweep through her slick folds to her entrance.

"Five?" she prompts again.

He shakes his head. "Three."

Sebastian watches through hooded eyes as Sloane slowly sinks down, and he's unable to stop himself from bucking his hips up at the sensation. Her hands press against his lower abdomen and she scolds him between own shaky breaths.

"Be good."

"Yes, wife."

Sebastian knows he's affected her by the shimmer in her eyes and the way her core clenches around him. As soon as he is fully seated within her, she circles her hips, fingers splaying out across his chest as she steadily increases her pace. She rocks back and forth, the quiet creak of the bed mixing with their heavy panting and moans. His eyes flick down from her face to where they are joined, his mouth watering at the sight of her impaling herself on his cock over and over again. Sloane lifts herself up a little more with each stroke until she is bouncing in his lap, and he hisses at the overwhelming tightness and heat of her around him.

"Sloane," he practically wheezed her name, straining his wrists as he tugged at the ties again. "Please."

She relents, frantic as she tugs at the knots until they are loose enough for him to slip out from. Sebastian grasps her immediately, one arm tucked around her waist and the other tangling in her hair as he tugs her down and smashes their lips together in a sloppy, hungry kiss. His grip tightens and he lifts his hips to meet her frenzied movements as they quickly skyrocket over the edge of ecstasy.

Her entire body trembles, thighs flexing around his hips as her silken walls flutter around him. He meets her release with what sounds like a roar, clutching her against him as they both slump. Sloane remains folded over his chest with her face tucked against his shoulder as they float down from the blissful high. Sebastian caresses her back, tracing every knot of her spine before sliding his hands over the curve of her bottom.

It's only then that he rolls them over, lazily grinning at the little whimper that escapes her lips as he presses her into the bed beneath him, still connected. Sebastian props himself up on his elbows to avoid crushing her completely, and spots her blooming blush.

"You aren't allowed to be so bashful after that, love," he teases and she sighs, raising her hands to sweep through his sweat-matted hair. He gazes down at her, smitten as the day he realized his love for her. Sloane—his beautiful and mesmerizing wife—who still manages to surprise him after all this time. "Who knew you had a jealous streak."

"I—I don't know what came over me," she whispers, still flushed from the passion she initiated.

"If this is what happens, well then I will need to encourage more young ladies to flirt with me, don't you think?"

Sloane furrows her brows and tugs his hair.

"Ow," he squeaks before laughing, easily snatching up her hands and pinning them where his had previously been. Her eyes widen in alarm but quickly melt into desire. Sebastian looms over her, brushing his lips against hers. "Can you be a good girl?"

"Yes, sir."

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