#and the older lady looked at it and was like ''what. the hell?? it is??''

[jillsandwhichs]

Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection , Chap 6 , Beer and Sex

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You, Joel and Tommy are at an event in Austin that includes being outdoors, drinking & games! Well, long story short, you and Joel end up heading back to his place for some indoor fun

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Friends

WC: 3.0k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: No outbreak (AU), Usage of alcohol, Buzzed sex, Dirty talk, Making out, Breast play, Living room sex, You ride Joel, Unprotected sex, Choking kink, Clit rubbing, Denial of orgasm, doggy style & you ride him

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

You sat back down whilst laughing. Picking your beer back up, you sipped it and put it back down. You haven't drinken in a while, it's nice to finally do it again. You're usually so busy with work that you never have the time or energy to get some alcohol in your system. Your friends Joel and Tommy convinced you to go with them to this event in town though and when you saw there were drinks, you couldn't refuse.

The only reason Joel and Tommy are here is because Maria is hosting this event. She's very big with the city council and hosts events like this from time to time. You don't mind coming. You're actually enjoying yourself. Just a bit ago you were playing darts with Joel and then tether ball with Tommy. You're slightly buzzed too. You can't get full blown drunk though, you need to still drive home.

As you watched some of the younglings run around and play, you felt the weight of the table increase as Joel sat down. It's a muscular man. He weighs a good bit. "Hey." You said in a friendly tone. "Hello." He replied, sipping his tall boy. "You got another one? Shit, don't make me go get another one too, I still have to drive home." You joked, resting your head in your hand. Joel chuckled. "My house is just a few blocks away and I walked here so I ain't even bothered." Joel stated.

That's right, he lives in the suburbs. That's not something you'd expect from a country boy like him. Then again, being country is defined by where you live. "Where did Tommy and Maria go?" "No fuckin' clue," Joel snickered, "Probably fuckin' in the bathroom or something." He teased. You laughed and nodded. "They are newly weds, what can you expect?" You said whilst giggling. Joel nodded. "True that."

Joel was once married, he even had a daughter with the woman. Joel has been single for years now though. Everyone jokes he's out of commission but he just says he's waiting for the right lady. Sarah, his daughter, is almost twelve. She's getting older and cuter by the second. You've met her quite a bit, even babysat her, she's a dear. Joel told you she's with her mother right now, so he's free.

"At least Maria is getting some. It's been a good few months for me." "Months? Try years darlin' and it ain't by choice." You cackled at his words. He isn't wrong. He's celibate from what you've heard. "Sorry Joel, that has to suck." "It sure fuckin' does." He took a shot of his beer. You nodded and sipped off of yours too. The beer was getting warm. Gross. You sighed deeply. "I'm going to go get a new beer, I'll be right back."

You stood up and headed towards the cooler. This cooler was brought by Tommy himself. He decided to provide it for everyone. It's the good stuff too. You bent over and picked up a new one. It was ice cold to the touch. "Hell yeah." You murmured, cracking it open. You're currently wearing a black tank top and short jean shorts. It's hot during the summer, you have to stay cool somehow.

When you turned around, you saw that Joel's eyes were on you. He looked like he was trying to play it off as if he wasn't just checking you out but he totally was. You can't lie, you've checked him out too. Those big muscles and that handsome face are a sight for sore eyes. He's a hottie, admittedly. You giggled and sat back down beside him.

"You were totally just checking me out, weren't you?" You said with a laugh, tipping your beer into your mouth and drinking it all while looking into his brown eyes. He snorted and nodded. "You caught me." Oh, so he was? You don't mind. You knew Joel would be there and that did somewhat take part in what you're currently wearing.

You've always thought he was sexy. The day Tommy introduced you to him you though that. That was only two years ago. Your guy's friendship has been great but you're awfully surprised the two of you haven't hooked up yet. You've definitely flirted and hit on one another. You've even went as far as to having him lick salt off of your stomach before taking a shot of tequila and that had you soaked.

It is very surprising.

"But you can't deny you were checkin' me out earlier." Joel whispered to you with a husky voice. You giggled. "Guilty as charged. You've also caught me red handed." This isn't just the beer talking. You totally were. When he was putting the cooler down earlier, you were indeed gawking at his veiny, buff arms. You giggled and bit your lip while looking up at him. "How drunk are you?" You asked him. "Not drunk enough." You rolled your eyes at his words.

You looked around the area. You still have no clue where Tommy and Maria are. "I'll shoot him a text. Let's get out of here." He whispered to you. You scoffed and breathed in deeply. "Alright." You giggled. He got off of the picnic table and took your hand in his, helping you out of the table as well. You smiled at him. Your guy's hands stayed interlocked. Is this actually going to happen? Are you going to fuck Joel Miller? After all this time?

"My house ain't too far from here." Joel said to you in a deep voice. "I know." You smiled, walking alongside him. You don't feel drunk. You do feel buzzed. It isn't anything you can't handle. You're a heavy weight. It takes you time to really hit the drunk point. The trees around you and Joel brought you two shade, but you're already too hot, in more ways than one. He looked down at you and chuckled. "I can't wait to fuck you." He admitted. You huffed out. "Good." You bit your lip to hold back a big grin.

You glanced over your shoulder. You hope no one will wonder where you two are. You'd rather keep this between you and Joel for now. "Will we come back once we're done?" "We'll have to, I left my goddamn brother back there." You laughed loudly. "That is true... He'll be fine, right?" "He's a grown man, he's fine. Like I said darlin', I'll text him." You nodded. You just don't want them to come looking for the two of you.

You'd rather not be in the middle of getting fucked when Tommy and Maria show up.

-

As Joel opened his front door and locked it behind him, he chuckled and grabbed you, smashing his lips against yours. You kissed him back. His messy beard scraped against your face. "Mmph." You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck. He picked you up into his arms like you were a feather. You giggled and continued to kiss him. His hands were on your ass cheeks, squeezing them as he took you two to the living room area.

"Baby?" "Hmm?" "Bedroom or living room?" You snorted at his question. At least you get a say in this. You thought for a moment. "Let's keep it fun-living room." "Glady." Joel smirked, kissing you again but this time, his tongue found it's way into your mouth. You didn't mind. It made you even more horny. Your guy's tongues fought for dominance. You wanted to explore every crevice of his mouth. You moaned loudly as he sat you down on him. You could feel his erection through his stained work jeans.

You giggled and kissed him before reaching your hands down to the end of your tank top and pulling it off. Joel just stared in admiration. He thinks you're gorgeous. "Look at you," He purred, "You're beautiful." He whispered. You grinned. "You're handsome, and so sexy." You spoke seductively before licking his lower lip and kissing him again. His hands went to your tits, he squeezed them gently. Joel is more of an ass guy though.

After making out for a little bit, Joel finally pulled away to take deep breaths. "I'm fuckin' twitchin'." He sighed deeply, looking down at his bulge. You think that's the sexist thing ever. You love when a man is vocal about how he feels or what you're doing to him. "I'm so wet for you, wanna feel?" You whispered against his ear. Joel's breath shuttered. "Badly." And his hands went to your shorts, undoing them and helping you out of them as well.

Stepping out of your shorts, you climbed back into Joel's lap and sighed. "Feel." You whispered, kissing his neck and jawline. Joel brought his finger down to your core and pulled your panties to the side. As he dipped his fingers through your folds, he let out a low groan. "So fuckin' wet, just for me, hm?" He whispered, nibbling on your jawline. You giggled. "Just for you." This surely isn't the first time you've gotten wet thinking about Mr. Joel Miller.

Joel swiped his fingers through your folds, picking up all of your juicy wetness. You continued to kiss him. He seemed desperate, like a wild animal. He's hungry for you. You bit his lower lip and once again swiped your tongue along his. You moaned so quietly, it was more of a whimper.

He pulled his finger away and grunted. "Need to feel you from the inside." He murmured as he pulled his cock out of his jeans. Oh yeah, he's big. You're excited. It's been so long, especially for him. You hope you're as good as he'll be to you. Grabbing his member, you yourself pulled your white panties to the side before you then sat down on his dick. Both of you made sensual noises as your folds and cunt enveloped him. He was already so deep inside of you. It feels so good.

"How's that?" You chuckled, your arms around his neck. He snickered and gripped your ass tightly, landing a smack onto it which caused you to jolt slightly. "You feel so good. Now fuckin' ride me." He began to squeeze and slap your ass and you started to ride him. You went slow at first. Your movements were just simple grinds back and forth but you'd occasionally lift your ass up and back down, literally bouncing on his cock.

You wanted to savour this. You haven't felt this good in awhile. Having sex with Joel tonight was not on your agenda of plans but seriously, it is a welcomed surprise. He feels amazing. He knows what he's doing too. Each time he pinches your ass cheeks or spanks you playfully, it either makes you moan or kiss him even harder and more passionately.

Now, Joel is holding your hips. You began to ride him faster too. His dick is so deep inside of you, you can hardly believe it. "I've wanted this for a long time." You moaned out, looking him in the eyes. His eyes got darker and even more full of lust. "Me too babygirl, me too." He then swatted your ass again before going back to squeezing your hips. You're sure you'll have red marks all over your cheeks by later in the evening.

Bouncing on him, each thrust was just a mark bringing you closer to your climax. His member is deep inside of you and is shoving itself against your tight walls with each movement. "Yes baby." He groaned, kissing and licking your neck. He thinks you smell amazing. You did put on your perfume before going to the event. You're glad it's doing it's job.

"Babygirl, turn around, cowgirl, y'know?" You giggled at his words. "Yes sir." You teased and lifted yourself off of him slightly to turn around. You were surprised he asked you to switch positions, but you aren't complaining. You pushed yourself down onto his dick again and you both made whimpering noises. He seems to be feeling good. That's all you want. It's been years for him, you better make it good.

Once you got comfortable, you moaned loudly as he started to thrust up into you. "Joel!" You practically screamed, tossing your head back against his broad shoulder. He cackled and kissed your neck, leaving numerous bites and hickies onto it too. How are you supposed to go into work on Monday? You're sure these'll last a few days, hopefully not. "Need to make sure I still got it." Joel grunted, now he is the one fucking you and man, it's heaven.

Joel noticed your head was still tilted back against his shoulder. He smirked. He brought his left hand up to your neck and held it, choking you now. You moaned and turned your head slightly, kissing his messy hair and giggling. "You're so deep inside of me." You panted. "Yea? You're takin' it so fuckin' well too baby." Joel replied, kissing your cheeks numerous times, making you smile and chuckle.

His free hand, his right one, was one your lower stomach, holding you in place. You wanted to look down to see him moving inside of you, but you couldn't. With his hand on your neck, there's not much you can do with your head. You aren't complaining. You think it's hot to be choked. He does it so well too. "Been thinkin' about fuckin' you for awhile now," He whispered against your ear. His breath was warm. "You feel better than I ever could've imagined." That made you whimper in pleasure.

You felt his right hand slither down from your waist and to your clit. You whimpered. "Oh God!" You whined out as he began to rub your clit fast and with pressure. It felt so good. He works well with his fingers. He continued to thrust up into you, which made the experience a million times better. "I'm gonna cum." You whispered to him. "No baby, not yet, hold it in." What!? How are you supposed to just hold it in? "What?" "You heard me babydoll." He licked behind your ear and bit on your lobe. "Do not cum yet." He sternly stated.

"How?" "Just do it."

How are you supposed to hold back your orgasm? No hookup has ever asked you to hold it back. Actually, they need you to cum quickly or else they'll finish before you. You whimpered and bit your lip. No, you're going to cum. "I can't," You panted, "I just can't." Joel didn't respond. "Joel!" You moaned out, reaching your hand behind his head and tugging on his hair. He grunted and bit down on your neck.

"Cum for me."

That was it. You moaned softly as you coated his cock in your fluids. You let go of his hair. Shaking in his lap, Joel continued to rub your clit until you came down from your high. It overstimed you even. "Holy Christ." You moaned. You went to turn your head to kiss him but he lifted you up and chuckled. "I still haven't finished." He then pushed you down onto the couch, doggy style, and began to pound into you.

You moaned loudly and gripped the couch beneath you. Your knuckles even went white. He moved so skillfully inside of you. Each pump was one of excellence. "Wish I could cum inside of you." He whispered, running his hands up and down your back before he ultimately rested them on your rear. Joel gripped your ass, squeezing it tightly before leaving multiple slaps onto it, all of which made your moan or squeal.

With just a couple more thrusts, Joel finished. He quickly pulled out and stroked himself. He finished all over your ass and lower back. "Fuck sakes." Joel groaned, caressing your ass as he came. You pushed your ass against his manhood and giggled. He spanked you again and snickered. "One sec." He leaned over and grabbed a random wipe, cleaning your ass and back off. He tossed the rag to the other side of the living room and you chuckled.

Joel heaved deeply and lifted you up by your waist and pulled you back into his lap. You were basically completely naked, only in panties whereas he was fully dressed. So unfair. "Was it good?" You asked him, resting your head against the arm of the couch. He glanced down at you, still breathing heavily. "You're a funny girl." He leaned down and kissed you softly. "It was fuckin' glorious." He then nibbed on your jawline, making you giggle cutely.

You hummed and looked up at him. "You're the only man whose ever denied me of finishing, by the way." You snorted. "That's because you've only done slept with boys who finish too quickly. I think it's sexy to see a woman be restricted of her pleasure." You giggled at his words. "It felt better." "That's the point babydoll." He caressed your cheek and you brought yourself closer to his face, kissing him gently.

He breathed in deeply and cupped your face firmly, holding you in place. "Don't convince me to fuck you again." He said with a smile against your lips. "If you can't handle it..." You bit your lip. You acted like you were about to get off of his lap and you suddenly squealed as he tossed you back onto the couch and put you in missionary. Your legs went over his shoulders and you smiled.

"Oh I think I can handle it."

That was where the next of many rounds began.

[andromedasummer]

KNITWORLD EMPLOYEES YOU WILL SEE HEAVEN I WILL ENSURE IT

[raptorladylover6969]

Everyday I think abt what the fuck kind of tomfoolery she was partaking in during the events of Camp Cretaceous.

[twilve]

remember that one time i visited my family and for some reason my mom was particularly meaner to me than usual? like what the fuck was up with that? just that one summer, she was like 40% meaner and kept on lowkey calling me fat

[thinkinonsense]

VELVET ELVIS ❤︎

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: fluff! domesticity! soft!logan pregnancy

author's note: this was inspired by the kacey musgraves song! just wanted to write some fluff :)

masterlist

divider credit: @/roseraris

within these cabin walls, time stood still. logan liked his life and the time machine he's built himself. you and him live in a 60's dream home.

during the weekdays, logan went to work at the lumberyard while you stayed at home and worked on your paintings. when the two of you moved in together years ago, logan got you to agree to quit your job and prioritize your talents since he could do triple the amount of work for a normal man, money would never be an issue.

on saturday's, the two of you would go into town and you would bring your art pieces to a shop downtown for them to sell. whatever money you made, you put back towards the supplies you needed because logan covered everything else.

"well, don't 'cha look like a dream" logan compliments as he watches you get ready in the mirror.

"thank you, sugar." you smile as he leans down to kiss your temple then down to your cheek.

"prettiest fuckin' thing i've ever seen." he mutters against your skin. "is this new?"

both your eyes fall to the satin powder blue slip dress that adorned your frame. he loved how it looked with your pretty white mary jane boots and the small bump blooming underneath the soft material of your dress.

"yeah, picked it up earlier this week." you reply, removing the curlers in your hair and teasing the hair pieces up high.

"love it." logan says, nibbling at your earlobe.

"logan..." you giggle, lightly shoving him away. "go get dressed so we can leave."

"yes, ma'am."

reluctantly, logan gets up and grabs the nice outfit you put together for him earlier. a fresh pair of denim jeans, a white shirt, and his brown leather jacket. as an anniversary present one year, you got logan a silver star-shaped belt buckle that matched the necklace he got for your birthday when you two first met. in the mirror, you watched him put it on.

"whatcha thinkin' about over there, sweetheart?" he smirks, looking up to find your eyes.

"dippin' you in honey."

"dirty. i like it."

"not like that, perv." you giggle. "just wanna be stuck to you forever."

"that's sweet," he says, walking over, bending down, and gently grabbing your chin to kiss you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

once the two of you make it inside the tiny shop, logan brings in your painting while you greet the older ladies who own the building. all of them fawn over logan and your round tummy; telling you how lucky you are. something you never let yourself forget.

"you'll never believe what we picked up at the gala last weekend." one of the grey-haired women tells you.

"what did you two find?" you asked, always curious to their treasures.

"the hell kinda painting is this?" logan asks, looking sideways at one of the paintings on the wall.

the sight makes you laugh. no matter how long you two have been together, logan still struggles to see some of the beauty that you do in certain art pieces.

"i think the handsome lumberjack found it." the other lady winked as they guide you over to where logan stood. hanging upon the wall sat a velvet elvis painting.

"oh my!" you gasp.

ever since you were a little girl, you adored the painting that some would call 'tacky'.

"you like that, sweets?" he questions but you ignore it, stepping closer, running a finger along the golden frame.

"my grandma used to have one in her living room, it was her most prized possession –well, next to my grandpa."

behind you, logan could see the couple smiling to each other. too busy amazed by the painting to notice anything else around you.

“what a lucky find!” you marvel, turning around to face them.

“which is why we want you to have it.” one of them says while the other takes it down from the wall.

in shock, you shake your head insisting that you couldn’t allow them to give it away. they insist on you two taking it home, telling you to hang it somewhere nice. logan wasn’t exactly thrilled to have the painting in the home but he knew you adored it so he would never say a word out loud.

on the way home that night, you raved about the piece. logan loved hearing you talk about the things you were passionate about. he could listen to you explain color theory for hours. his own personal, prettier version of bob ross. when he brought in the painting, you told him exactly where you wanted to hang it in the living room.

“right there, baby.” you instruct him. “be careful.”

the man couldn’t be hurt if he tried but he found your warning cute. once it was hung up, you both step back to admire it. the art work did at least match the aesthetic of the house, logan could admit.

“i mean, its no mona lisa but i don’t mind it.” logan says, pulling you in to kiss your forehead.

“you know, i don’t really care for the mona lisa.” you admit with a shrug.

“really?”

“mhm, don’t like that everyone fawns over it. i want character, creativity, and something unique."

"hm.." he hums, swaying you gently.

"this painting reminds me of you." your voice meek and muffled against his shirt.

"is that so?" he asks, looking down at you.

you nod. "i want something no one else has and something no one else will ever understand the way that i do. you're my favorite work of art, lo."

"i'm only a work of art because you carved and molded me with your beautiful mind." he says, trying to allow a tear to fall down his face.

logan couldn't believe the life he'd been gifted after all the shit he's dealt with in his lifetime. he didn't deserve this; he didn't deserve you. your kindness, your warmth, your talent, your body that carries the only other human he will ever love as much as you. he would never be able to repay you for this little life and slice of peace that you've gifted him.

[pepi-nillo]

brain be like ladies hot brrr

[shotmrmiller]

written on phone, excuse mistakes.

ps!ghost is spent. physically exhausted. there's an ache in his lower back that he can feel up to the base of his skull. his hip flexors burn with overuse. his head pounds, an unrelenting hammering behind his eyes.

he's working too hard to keep himself in the zone when at work. his co-stars, while so breathtakingly beautiful, aren't his favorite girl. the one with the soft, quivering thighs that glisten with arousal in every video. the one with the pretty tits and even prettier pussy that somehow takes him (technically him, that toy is based on his cock) so nicely, every devastating inch.

he can feel himself thickening at just the thought of you climbing on top, nails digging into his chest as you sink onto him, watching your face through half-lidded eyes as you finally feel the real thing. would your bitten lips part as you draw a sharp gasp? would your eyes roll to the back of your head once his tip gently presses against the plug of your womb? would you let him take you over the peak with just the pad of his thumb rolling little circles over your swollen clit as you try to sit still?

the muscles in his groin tighten, his now hardened erection straining against the metal teeth of his zipper. he rearranges himself from the outside, a palm wrapping around the thick of him when he looks at his watch.

he supposes he's got enough time to squeeze in one last wank. not like he has any issues getting to his finish line, not with your pretty pussy in his mind's eye.

pulling your page up on his phone, he slowly begins to undo the button on his jeans when he notices that you posted a brand-new video. just minutes ago, back when he was still in his driveway.

he leaves an impatient trail of clothes that leads to his bedroom and lies back, head sinking into the soft pillow, his hand lazily tugging his length when—

he springs up, spine snapping straight, eyes widening but pupils narrowing as he takes in what you're wearing. you managed to get your hands on a mask, a skull balaclava to be exact. he's worn that before in older videos.

even though he can't see your face, he can finally, finally get a look at your eyes. long lashes frame them, like feathered wings, like brushstrokes from an artist's hand. your eyes reflect the bright luminescence of the ring light behind the camera, a circular glow that encircles the center of them in a perfect halo.

if he wasn't enthralled before, (which he definitely is, he'd buy you an airplane ticket to come see him in a heartbeat) he sure as hell is now. and he's even harder than before, almost painfully so. ghost leans against the wall, spreading his muscled thighs shoulder-width apart and presses play.

it starts slow, as always. your hand wraps around the base of the toy, the tips of your fingers barely touching. he takes minor pride in that. you're not a teeny thing, he's simply bigger in more ways than one. you give it a couple of pumps, spreading the lube over it when you lean forward— your pretty, perfect eyes looking straight at the camera— and with a thumb, you lift the mask up just enough to—

you spit on the toy. there's a clear glob of saliva trickling down the plastic thing, trailing a warm path down to where your hand is. the wave of heat that rushes through his body, painting his cheeks a rosy hue with embarrassment (because he's seething with jealousy over a bloody inanimate object, for fucks sake) is swallowed up by the molten rush that courses through his veins.

his usual pink tip is flushed a much deeper color as it pre-cum beads up at the slit.

"fuck, do tha' again." he rumbles quietly. "c'mon, love, do tha' again." you've even got him talking to himself, that's how crazy he is about you.

it's as if lady luck smiled upon him because you do it again. a quick drag of your hand, up down, up down, and you lick the side of it with a flattened pink tongue before spitting on the head.

perfect. you're perfect. what he wouldn't do to be there instead.

he sucks in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth when you move around until your sex is hovering over the spit-slick toy. ghost chokes out a groan, a low noise that comes from deep within his barrel chest when you begin to lower yourself onto it.

your greedy cunt swallows it whole in one smooth movement. puffy lips spread wide as it stretches to take it all, walls wrenched apart by the girth. he bets you're squeezing down on it like a vice. ghost grips himself tight, hissing at the feeling. you'd probably be tighter.

he strokes himself in sync with the pace you've set, a slow but firm rise and fall. the sounds your cunt makes is music to his ears— audible squelching, a sticky viscous note. there's a creamy froth around the widened base, slowly dripping onto the floor like pearly drops of sweetened honey and milk.

saliva pools in his mouth, enough to have to swallow.

he bets you'd taste as sweet as you look. like a ripened fig. like the warmth of amber.

another swallow.

a familiar heat begins to flare in his groin, a quiet hum beneath his flesh, tiny pinpricks on his tender nerves. the tell tale sign of his end.

"c'mon sweetheart, come with me. let me—" he bites down on his tongue, meat between his molars when his core pulses, flaring white hot. let me feel you around me. give me wha' i want, wha' i've earned.

my reward.

he hears your breath hitch, snag in your throat, and—

your eyes flutter closed, eyelashes akin to a butterfly's wings. vulnerable. delicate.

he just knows you'd look so beautiful in your surrender.

white-hot, like a star's core radiates from the inside out, a seething inferno beneath his skin, pushing outward, pushing against the threshold— a dam that holds back torrents of euphoria. a crack appears with each stroke, each tug of his cock until he exhales a quivering breath, like fallen leaves rustling in the wind.

it bursts, cascading over him. it's indescribable— pure ecstasy. sublime. it comes in bursts, pulse after pulse. warmth covers his hand, drips down his balls into his bedsheets.

he grumbles as he gets out of bed to clean himself up, making a mental note to ask his manager to email you instead.

it's high time he got his hands on you.

or yours on him.

(+ fat fucking tip, atp he's about to buy a wedding ring someone help him!!!)

[dumbandfunn]

how cowboy!rafe and spoiled!reader met

it was a usual friday night in the local bar, the few regular rowdy ranchers and the occasional couple passing through just to grab a drink for their journey. it was nothing new. not until the door swung open more aggressively than usual and low and behold you stood in your pretty white sundress, mascara stained under eyes and demanding somebody to tell you “where the hell you were.” rafe had been on high alert the minute he lay his eyes on you, telling his usual drinking crowd to shut up while he took a sip of the whiskey he had been clinging to the entire night. you looked so helpless, fragile, rambling to the bar tender who seemed to not care about anything but how low the cut on your dress was. his eyes were trailing from where you had perched yourself back to the pervy wandering heads from the countless men who had all fallen silent at the chaos you had created from nothing. “are you even listening to me,” you pout, lip still wobbling whilst you slammed a hand down against the wooden counter. “i need somebody to help me, im lost and—” you sniffle.

an older man sitting across from you had piped up with an “ain’t nobody gon’ help you in these parts little lady, not with that attitude,” and that only made you cry harder. “but i’m lost,” you huff out, your tears quick to turn to the sweetest angry pout rafe had probably ever seen as you turn to the few people who were only watching in amusement, oh how they hated pretentious city girls. rafe’s eyebrows were raised, maybe it was then, as you started to bicker with a rancher twice your size that he needed to know more about you. and why the hell a girl like you was in a place like this in the first place. you left with a pretty loud bratty scream after nobody showed any interest in helping you, the distant laughs of the scene you’d caused echoing behind you as you sniffled back your tears and kicked at the car that had put you in the unfortunate situation in the first place. it wasn’t like rafe to follow, especially after someone like you, not that he came across anyone like that much in the first place. a clearly spoiled, city princess. maybe it was just the little white dress you were wearing, maybe he was just as pervy as the rest. he just couldn’t leave a little helpless thing like you to your own devices in a place he knew too well. or maybe he just needed you the second his pants got a little tighter when you were leaning across the bar a few minutes prior.

but less than two seconds after your tantrum he was hot on your heels, waving off the whistles that followed when the doors swung behind him. “so y’need help?”

a knight in shining armour, just a minute too late, it was tantrum city now after not getting your way.

“not from any of you anymore,” you spat out, folding your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at the young man who took a small step closer, taking his hat off and raising both hands up in defense, “well, you didn’t choose the best place to come cryin’ for help, alright, s’all i’ll say doll.” “—so y’gonna tell me what happened or you just gon’ sit here cryin’ all night,” he mutters out. you frown up at him, clearly in a conflict about standing your ground or getting out of the hell your car had broken down in. maybe your stubbornness had gotten the better of you, how you turned your nose up at him and quickly looked away, only for a hand to land firmly on your jaw a minute later, squishing your cheeks and staring you down with those stern blue eyes. “i told you this not the place to come cryin’ for help, s’tell me whats wrong before i go back inside and leave you here all on your own, hm? you want that?”

you shook your head almost immediately, eyes widened and lips parted. nobody had spoken to you like that in your entire life. and the way your eyebrows creased and your lip started to vibrate again, rafe knew he had you right where he wanted you. “my car broke down, can you fix it” you whisper.

“they don’t teach you manners in the city?”

you managed to squeak out a please, just as his free hand reached to brush a few stray hairs out of your face, licking his thumb and swiping the clumps of mascara from under your eyes. “now that wasn’t so hard was it doll?” and you shook your head again, nervous and chewing down on your bottom lip. he really did have you right then and there, someone who could handle your tantrums and someone who could knock the attitude from your lungs with something as simple as an eyebrow raise.

everyone was shocked to see you curled under rafe’s arm the following friday in his usual corner of the same bar, feet swinging and dazed. nobody would dare say a bad word about you again.

[enviedear]

JASON TODD deserves to retire—far away from gotham—so without further ado, i present…FARMER!JASON.

i think he’d be in his early to mid thirties before he ever even thought about leaving gotham behind. he’d have to have achieved some form of retribution for what he went through, i just don’t see him forgoing that—even if it’d bring his mind peace.

so when he finally decides to get his affairs in order and retire out to some small, inconspicuous town—he’s thriving. he only has himself to worry with, reminiscent of his childhood. he’s good with his hands, can work long hours, and likes the solitude. damian convinced him, before he left gotham, to get some animals—so he does. a few chickens, some cattle, and a fainting goat an older neighbor couldn’t care for anymore. he’s happy with how it is. nice, peaceful, and quiet. a complete 180° from his old life, both of them.

so enter you, product of a small town and hungry for something more. the first time he meets you, you’re working at your families general store, bored out of your mind. he only had come in for some cow feed, but just one look at you had the big bear of a man scouring shelves to lengthen his stay.

to you, jason sticks out like a sore thumb. he can dress just like and do all the things as the other townsfolk, but the air of something more lingers. you reckon he’s probably like any other city dweller who happens into town—ignorant to how the world works here and usually gone within six months. but then he walks up to the counter, and he’s vastly different to what you expected. soft spoken, weary of eye contact, and rigid manners—uttering, “ma’am” and “thank you so much.”

jason, bless him, is at a loss. you’re so pretty he doesn’t know how to correctly present the fact to you. his hands are all clammy and he picked up at least seven things that he doesn’t fucking need—but he’s still determined. he opens his mouth, once, twice…nothing. finally, when you hand him his change—he clears his throat.

“nice place for a young lady.” and immediately he stills. because it’s not at all what he wanted to say. his embarrassment catches him last, confusion at his own screw up falling ahead.

you huff out a laugh, amused at him more than anything. plus, you encounter plenty of ‘conversationalists’ on the clock.

you give him a smile, “thanks hun,” and then you gesture toward the XL paper cup on the counter with TIPS written across it, “this young lady wouldn’t mind some charity though.”

you wait for him to blink. he does, and the reaches back for his wallet. you stop him, “i was joking, of course.” his hand freezes mid-motion, halfway to his wallet. you can almost see the precise moment the realization actually dawns on him.

jason feels idiotic, childish, and so flustered—he hates that—he's a grown man. god, he doesn’t need to tip you, it was a joke, and now he’s overthinking it. His shoulders are all tense, and for a guy who looks like he could snap a tree in half with his bare hands, the sight is unexpectedly…endearing.

"right," he starts, grabbing for his assortment of goods. "i—uh, got distracted, sorry." and again, he stops—not what he meant to say. he stops listening at this point, nervous as all hell and beat at this little game of wits. he fumbles into a goodbye before bolting for the door.

for the first time since leaving gotham and all that he used to be behind—jason feels a tug. a little liveliness to the quaint life he's carved out. the fact both vexes and amuses him.

he decides that day, to do his shopping with you from now on.

[losersiren]

𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k 

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots. 

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.”  The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath. 

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.” 

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.” 

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough. 

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession. 

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable. 

 “Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that? 

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them. 

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.  

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires 

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that 

“Ambrose…” 

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.”  The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with. 

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.” 

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”  

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed. 

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh. 

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord. 

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible. 

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun  Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”  

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad. 

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

 “Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it. 

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to. 

 Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?  

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!! 

[alexxajay]

Emergency Contact

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, heartbreak, mentions of drinking *SFW*

WC: 2.8k of pure angst <3 (you’ll giggle a little bit tho, promise)

You and Hyunjin had a mutual breakup over a year ago, but apparently he forgot to remove you as his emergency contact and feelings are revisted…

You were stupid. That was the only excuse you could come up with for your decisions.

You were stupid and maybe even a little pathetic.

One moment you were curled into your couch with a fuzzy blanket and a freshly brewed cup of coffee, the next you were praying to God that no one had taken pictures of the drunk idiot sleeping at one of the tables in some late night ramen restaurant.

You sat at the red light, your fingers tapping rhythmically to the new song that you’d heard on the radio a few times before. Your mind couldn’t help but to wander off to a year prior where everything in your life was different. You had a different job, a different apartment, a different wardrobe and hairstyle. You even had a boyfriend back then. Every aspect of your life had changed after him and here he was wiggling his way back into it like a stubborn little rat that you couldn’t catch.

As you pull into a parking space in front of the building, you take a few deep breaths to calm the nerves that skyrocketed the second you turned off your car. You hadn’t seen him since he turned his back on you with red eyes, his hands tangled into his messy hair as sobs quietly echoed against the walls of your apartment as he left you behind. There were a few conversations texted here and there with the two of you catching up, but it was all small talk that even strangers could have. You hadn’t heard his voice or seen him with your own eyes in over a year, and yet here you were at his rescue because of some stupid phone call you’d gotten at one o’clock in the morning.

The jingle of a bell announces your arrival and an older woman greets you politely as you step inside. You smile kindly and then your eyes scan the room for the idiot before landing on the familiar figure hunched over onto the red table, empty bottles of soju accompanying him in his slumber. You could only scoff in amazement at the fact he managed to drink all of that alone. He wasn’t even that great of a drinker. What the hell possessed him to drink himself into a coma on a Thursday night?

Your hand comes down onto his back a bit harshly as you attempt to pat him awake. It took a few more rough shoves and a loud call of his name before his head finally raised and he groaned in annoyance. A quiet laugh escaped your lips as his eyes struggled to adjust to the light, a used napkin stuck to his cheek with some unknown sauce smeared across it.

“Hyunjin, get up. Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Let’s go.” You repeat, turning your head to look over your shoulder for anyone that may recognize him. “Did you pay for your food already?”

He was still trying to make sense of his (very bright) surroundings and who was asking him about the bill he’d already paid for. You watched in amusement as his eyes grew twice their size as they connected with yours, his mouth dropping open slightly. You weren’t sure what emotions reflected in those brown orbs. Shock? Fear? Sadness? What you did know is that Hyunjin hadn’t expected for you to be here.

“Y/N?”

“Did you pay your bill, drunk boy?”

“Yea- Yes.” He stutters and squeezes his eyes shut to focus the blurry image of you. “What are you doin- Why are here?”

“You passed out after stuffing yourself full of ramen and soju and the nice lady at the register called your emergency contact.”

His hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, his ears red from both alcohol and bow embarrassment.“Oh…forgot to change that.” He slurs.”I should’ve changed that. I’m sorry.”

There’s a moment of silence as he stares up at you deep in thought, your hand coming towards his face to detach the dirty napkin from his cheek causing him to flinch back into reality.

“Let’s go before someone sees you.”

He’s obedient as he pushes the chair back to stand, your shoulder scrunching up to touch your right ear at the loud noise it made scraping against the floor. His hand reaches up to push his bangs away from his face, a sniffle coming from him as he gathered his phone and wallet. He nearly topples over as he turns to follow you to the register, his hand flying out to find balance on your shoulder as you assured that his bill had been paid for with the worker.

Loading him into the car was easier than you’d expected as he was able to climb in by himself. There had been one too many times in the past where you literally had to shove the man limb by limb into the car because he had way more than he should’ve with his friends.

“Do you stay at the same apartments?”

“No, we all moved into new ones.” Hyunjin takes a deep breath as the room began to spin. You watch as he closes his eyes and leans his seat back a bit to try and reground himself. “ I live with Changbin now.”

“What’s your address?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hyunjin.”

“I can’t remember.”he mumbles.

You scoff. “Give me your phone.”

It took you a few minutes, but eventually you were able to find his address embedded in google maps. Hyunjin had never been great with directions, so you knew that there wasn’t a way he didn’t have his addresses saved as “home” for easy access when needed. You leaned across the console to buckle him into his seat belt before returning to your seat and doing the same for yourself.

“You smell good.” He hums quietly. “New perfume?”

“Yeah.”

“I like it.”

“Thanks.”

The rest of the ride was silent. It wasn’t awkward; there weren’t any emotions weighing heavy in the air. It was peaceful. Familiar. It made you reminiscence of the multiple late night rides he’d taken you on when he wasn’t able to sleep and didn’t want to be alone. You’d always sit snuggled into one of his blankets from home with your eyes closed, feeling the breeze of the wind blowing throughout the car and listening to him hum his favorite songs. His hand typically rested on your thigh giving it a loving squeeze every now and then to remind himself that you’re there even if you were half asleep.

That described your relationship. Peaceful. Loving. Familiar. Neither of you knew where it went wrong and that’s what hurt him the most. One day you both had decided that something didn’t feel the same in your heads anymore which led to confused hearts, and rather than stringing the other along you both decided to call it quits.

It’s no secret that Hyunjin took it a lot harder than you did. He loved you so much and wanted to fix things between you, but how could you fix the tangled mess that was in his mind? That wasn’t fair to you, and that’s why he let go.

It was hard at first. His everyday routine had revolved around either you or his job depending on what point in their career the boys were in, and unfortunately for him he couldn’t drown himself in work. So, he rearranged his apartment, he started trying new painting techniques, and going to the gym with Changbin who claimed that exercise was the best way to heal your brain. It worked for a while but he felt himself slowly falling into a slump that was hard to get out of. He spent more time crying than he did doing anything productive and he truly doesn’t think he would’ve made it through his depression episode without the help of his best friends. Then, their schedules picked up again and Hyunjin was slowly able to regain his smile with time, pushing those wonderful moments he shared with you to the back of his brain. He thought he’d finally accepted your ending and then he saw it.

An old picture of the two of you he had forgotten to delete from his phone still living in his memories album, “1 year ago” flashing across his screen with bold lettering as if it were taunting him.

It was a picture of you two on your second anniversary. He had taken you to Italy and let you live your “romcom fantasy” like you’d always told him you dreamed about. That trip was full of love, giggles, and experiences you told him that you’d never forget. If someone told him back then that you two wouldn’t be together the following year, he’d laugh in their face and call bullshit.

You were undeniably in love and you were meant to last forever.

That’s when the day dawned on him.

Your anniversary was tomorrow and there was no more love to be shared.

He tried not to think about it. He really did. However, Changbin had gone to visit his family and Hyunjin was all alone in their apartment with his thoughts. His mind spiraled and those feelings he thought were gone crawled their way back up his throat until he let out a bitter cry that bounced back at him from against the walls.

It turns out you can only bury and try to forget your feelings for someone for so long until something triggers it. Thats how he found himself taking deep breaths and focusing on the feel of the wind on his face to stop his stomach from churning, threatening to empty its contents in your car.

Twenty minutes later and you were practically carrying Hyunjin’s 5’10 frame into his apartment. You counted nearly four times that the two of you had nearly face planted onto the ground due to his lack of core and foot control, grumbling complaints of, “aren’t you supposed to have great foot work?”, and gaining giggles from him in return.

“What’s the code, Jinnie?” You question once you (hopefully) arrive at the right front door.

His long fingers tap at the keypad and an amused snort escapes his lips when the door flashed red.

Wrong code.

He types it again. Wrong code.

Then again. Wrong Code.

“Hyunjin!” You fight laughter.” You can’t be serious right now ?!”

“This is hard! The numbers are so tiny.”

“What’s the code? I’ll do it.”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads. “I can’t tell you that. What if you break in and steal stuff or or you let the Stays in?”

You stare at the man that continues slurring his concerns of being robbed or seen naked in complete and utter disbelief. You forgot how amusingly idiotic he could be.

“Do you want to sleep outside of your front door tonight?”

“No?”

“Then tell me the code.”

He hesitates. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Promise?!”he shouts.

“I promise!” You shout back and hate that a laugh erupts from your chest halfway through.”You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I’m a cute idiot, though.” He dramatically bats his eyelashes and you give him a playful shove, your own body collapsing over itself in a fit of laughter when he lost his balance and into the wall, then progressed to the floor.

“You tryin’ to kill me, woman?!”

“For the love of God, Hyunjin. What’s the code to your apartment?!”

Nearly ten minutes standing at his front door like a pair of idiots had passed before you finally got the correct code and allowed Hyunjin to crawl his way in the door behind you. Their new dorm was a lot bigger and a lot nicer than the ones you had known previously, and it was surprisingly clean.

“Hey, Y/N. Want a tour of our new place? It’s so much nicer than the last one.”

“Let’s get you some water first and then you can show me, yeah?”

He bounced happily behind you as you made your way to the kitchen to find him some water of any shape or form. Upon opening the fridge you playfully rolled your eyes at the view: water, chicken, and some random ingredients that couldn’t have possibly made an actual meal. Why you expected anything different you weren’t sure.

Once Hyunjin downed the water and you made him assure you he wasn’t going to vomit, you allowed him to grab your hand and drag you through his apartment. He claimed he wouldn’t sleep until you saw every nook and cranny and complimented how clean they managed to keep it because he’d worked so hard while Changbin was gone.

Before long you had convinced him to finally wind down for bed. He was like a child almost. Hyunjin obediently went to brush his teeth, wash his face, and even placed his clothes in the laundry basket “just for you because I’m a clean guy. See?”

You watched as he cutely mumbled to himself about which pair of pajamas he wanted to wear to bed. One was the wrong color, one was too suffocating, and eventually he found what he called “baggy enough” to sleep in comfortably.

“Y/N you have to turn around.”

“What?”

“So I can put my pajamas on.”

“Hyunjin, you’re already half naked?”

You jumped at the sudden high pitched scream that left his lips, your eyes blown wide and your hand clutching your imaginary pearls. Hyunjin’s hands were dramatically tossed across his body as he attempted to cover himself from your sight.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“You’ve been staring at me in my underwear?!”

“Are you serious right now?!”

“Turn around!”

“We’ve literally had sex and showered together?!”

“I’m shy, Y/N!”

“You’re unbelievable, I swear.” You’re slightly annoyed as you go to step out of the room but your breath catches as he grabs your waist to stop you.

“No, don’t leave, yet. Just- Just turn around…”

“You owe me for this, yanno?” You give him attitude, yet spin around to allow him to get dressed anyway. “I shouldn’t have to put up with you being an idiot all because you left me as an emergency contact.”

“I’m sorry. Just stay until I go to sleep?”

“Hyunjin-“

He interrupts and steals your heart for a second time as he turns you around to show off his pout and sad puppy dog eyes. “Please.”

So, you agree, allowing him to tug you into his bed and get settled and tucked in beside you. He rests his cheek onto your shoulder and you give the opposite cheek a pat, ignoring the pang you felt in your heart when he hummed contently and leaned into your palm, his lips pressing a small kiss to your wrist just as he used to.

“Get some sleep, Hyunjin.“

“Thank you for this, Y/N. Means a lot.”

“Just don’t get drunk like that in public again. You never know who’s out there watching you, Jinnie.”

“I know…I was just sad” he admits and before you can question him any further he request, “Can you play with my hair, Y/N?”

“Yeah…”

You missed him.

You had immersed yourself into your new job and setting up a new life to forget about the heartbreak you were going through, and now here you were on the verge of tears as he slowly fell asleep beside you. Those beautiful memories and the emotions hit you like a truck for the second time, as if you’d only broken up yesterday.

All because you were left as his emergency contact and he was too drunk to get home alone.

You fucking missed him.

Twenty silent moments had passed before you decided his breath evened out enough that he was nearly sleep. You slowly slipped his head from your shoulder and inched your way out of the bed. Taking one last look at his face was the biggest mistake you could’ve made. He looked so happy with his lips turned up slightly and his hair messy from you running your hands through it to lull him to sleep. You press a gentle kiss to his forehead and take small, quiet steps away from the bed to leave.

You were nearly out the door when his groggy voice echoed against the walls of his bedroom.

“Today’s our anniversary.”

The sudden announcement leaves shock evident on your face and a sting of tears in your eyes.

It had officially been one year, two months, and three days since you both chose to end your relationship and today was the day you would’ve celebrated your love for each other. It totally slipped your mind, but apparently it had been weighing heavy on his, and that’s part of what led to the breakup in the first place.

There’s tears glistening in his eyes as he smiles at you, your chest growing heavy and tears mirroring his own as his voice cracks with his next sentence.

“Happy three years, Y/N. I love you.”

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[marlenesluv]

lando + his pasta loving girlfriend

note: gonna be honest, i am craving pasta and have no motivation to order some so i’m putting that hunger into this headcannon, lol. (posting this from a few nights ago…alright, i guess i really like pasta. i was a little tipsy too, so mind the misspells if there are any i didn’t catch.)

type: head-cannon, a little smau

headcannon masterlist here -> click here!

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

۵ lando knew that when you two started dating that you loved pasta. you ordered it on the first date, second date, third date. you would have ordered it on the fourth date, but that date was the one where you made dinner. and you made…pasta.

۵ some of his friends, mainly max, thought this was a tiny bit odd, but who was he to judge?

۵ lando was one of the pickiest eaters on this planet.

۵ and it seems that his girlfriend, no, soulmate was too.

۵ lando was infamous for being a picky eater.

۵ sushi? no. vegetables? only because he had to. if he had it his way, it’d be pizza, pasta, and ice cream 24/7.

۵ you were the same way. some healthy food here and there of course, but pasta was truly the best.

۵ after you had been going to the mclaren paddock for around six months, the kitchen staff knew your preference.

۵ they knew you loved pasta. you always ate whatever they made though and never complained.

۵ but lando was loud. very loud.

۵ so if you came over to the table he, oscar, and lily were at eating, he would ask what you got. you told him and he would loudly say “no pasta today!? where is my girlfriend??”

۵ lily would laugh and oscar would roll his eyes and laugh a little.

۵ at this point, a few of the workers would notice your wide eyes and red face from lando embarrassing you.

۵ lando meant no harm, really.

۵ he just didn’t realize how loud he was.

۵ from that moment on, one of the kind older ladies working at mclaren would make you pasta.

۵ everytime you came in, she had a different type of pasta waiting for you.

۵ which really just warmed your heart.

۵ even for your birthday that lando hosted for you, there was pasta. lots of pasta.

۵ he invited his f1 friends, and of course carlos homemade some pasta (so did yuki).

۵ charles bought you a pasta plushie that alexandra had found and knew you had to have.

۵ overall…lots of pasta.

۵ your fans that literally loved your pasta posts as well.

۵ almost every photo dump you had, there was pasta.

۵ and lando was very supportive of this.

۵ hell, he was jealous of how much pasta you got to eat.

۵ his trainer had to restrict his pasta intake, only allowed for special occasions.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 327,148 others

y/n.user: the love of my life and lando🍝❤️

view comments…

landonorris: wow. i am extremely offended but not really surprised

y/n.user: i’m sorry, i’m kidding. i love you more than pasta

landonorris: how much more????

y/n.user: …..like, 2% more

landonorris: i’ll take it

f1wags: yeah, she’s our iconic pasta mom🫶

user2: my favorite couple 🥹🥹🥹

mclarenfans48: the picture of lando and y/n hugging 🫠 they’re the cutest

pastarecipes: goddess of pasta

y/n.user: i’m not sure if i’m more honored to be called a goddess, or that you think i’m the goddess of PASTA

pastarecipes: omggg i didnt expect you to respond AH ily

user7: that pasta looks DELICIOUS

oscarpiastri: you got your pasta fix of the day then?

y/n.user: ya😎

danielricciardo: so she won’t be cranky when we see them tonight ✊

y/n.user: that comment is gonna cost you a bowl of pasta 💅

danielricciardo: DAMNIT

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi 👋🏻 Lou!! Congratulations 🎊🎉 on 6k!!

So how about Arranged Marriage w/ Simon?

Again congrats to 6k 🙃💛🦡

.⋆｡Give 'Em Hell｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Your parents think you need to get married and settle down, so they called in a favour. A big military man of a husband might do you some good just not in the way they think

Warnings: arranged marriage, sort of sugar baby/daddy relationship, misogynist parents, future revenge, mention of hook-ups WC: 986

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You often wondered about the true scope of your family’s stupidity. Sure, there were moments in your childhood where you had the vivid thought that no one could be as ignorant and blatantly idiotic as your parents were but somehow, they had absolutely hit rock bottom of moronic decisions.

“What the fuck do you mean I’m getting married?” Your mother gasped.

“Watch your tone young lady, that is no way to speak to your parents.” She scolded as your father’s expression hardened. There was no question that your parents were ‘traditional’ believing that women were less than their male counterparts in every way but while they had constantly lectured you on those beliefs, they hadn’t gone so far as to inflict them upon you, until now at least. They even helped you and encouraged you through college!

“You’ve been running wild long enough, it’s time for you to do your duty,” you fought the urge to roll your eyes, “We’ve let you chase your silly little dreams but you’re getting older and your clock is ticking.” Your father clicked his tongue and reached for the tumbler of expensive bourbon on the table beside his recliner.

“We’ve picked out a good man!” Your mother chirped from her place on the expensive love seat next to your father, “He’s highly decorated in the military, he can give you a good life.”

“I don’t give a shit about that! I’m not marrying anybody! Period!” You snarled. Anger curled in your gut, turning your tone sour.

Your father’s glass slammed down onto the wood, making your mother flinch. “You will marry him or I will make your life a living hell. I make one call and no one will want to hire you, not even as a fucking garbage collector. You know the connections I have. Suck it up and be a responsible adult for once.” 

——————

“I don’t want a husband.” The man across from you made a sound that you thought might have been a laugh. Simon, as you had learned from your parents, was a Lieutenant in a special ops task force. Never married, no family to speak of and copious amounts of money, your mother had gleefully added as she literally dragged you into the official-looking building where you would be meeting your future spouse.

He was by all means, an intimidating man. Almost 6 and a half feet tall and wearing a stupid balaclava with a skull on it, he looked more fitting being in a slasher movie than in a conference room negotiating marriage stipulations. His bulky, tattooed arms were crossed over his chest, somehow making him seem even bigger to you, as he leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t want a wife.” Your eyebrows furrowed at that. 

“Then why are you here?” 

His massive shoulders rolled back as his head tilted, cracking his neck. “Same as you— orders.” You hummed under your breath and forced your gaze away from his tanned arms and up to his eyes. He was obviously a quiet man but in no way did that intimidate you. He seemed more pissed off at your father who had so rudely guided (shoved) you into the room than he did at you.

You cleared your throat. “I won’t fuck you.” This time, his laugh was more discernible. His broad chest rumbled with the sound.

“‘M not expecting you to, not unless you beg,” you made a face at him but Simon continued, “I get deployed most of the time, I’d just like someone to take care of the house and spend my money.”

“So I would be your sugar baby.” He shrugged.

“If that’s what ya wanna call it. Do what cha want, I don’t care. We just need to show up to official events together.” 

You planted your elbows on the table between you and stared into his brown eyes. Simon didn’t waver. “So you wouldn’t have an issue with me getting a job?”

“None.” He answered quickly.

“Going back to school?”

“I’d happily pay for it.” You raised an eyebrow before a devious smirk crossed your lips.

“Get a lover?” His eyes blazed while he mirrored your position, the swivel chair beneath him groaning with his mass as he leaned forwards, planting his massive palms onto the table.

“I’d like to see you try.” Against your will, heat raced through your body, setting your nerves alight with the thrum of arousal.  Simon’s mask shifted and you imagined that he was smirking at you. 

You tamped down the feeling of wetness between your soft thighs, forcing yourself to remember exactly why you were in this situation in the first place. “You’re a lot different than I was expecting.”

He huffed. “So are you. Thought I was getting stuck with some bratty trust fund baby who’s never even set foot in a thrift store.”

“I thought you were gonna be a crusty old man who wanted me to put out so he could feel better about his broken dick and receding hairline.” Silence settled between you before suddenly, you both broke into peels of laughter, an oppressive weight suddenly lifted from the room. 

You were relieved; Simon seemed at least like a decent human being if nothing else and it appeared that you could continue living your life, although without the occasional hook up here and there. But considering how handsome you presumed your almost husband to be, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“I guess we both got lucky didn’t we?” You wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Or just benefitting from the sheer incompetence of the people that thought this was a good idea.” You rolled your eyes at him.

“So, should we do this then?” You asked. Simon rose from his seat and offered you his hand, which you didn’t hesitate to take. As he pulled you to your feet, he uttered:

“Let’s give ‘em hell.”

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[writteninlunarlight-years]

Older

This is for the @6esiree contest that they are holding! I hope you enjoy it, and even if it doesn't perform well, I am glad to have made something long! Word Count 3.5k Alastor x Gen Z Reader Based on Song Older by Isabel LaRosa TW: Sexual content, stubbornness, gen gap, age gap, tentacles, begging

Dying wasn’t the first thing on your list of exciting things to do. I mean, yes, you were a 23-year-old living in 2024, so of course, your will to live was low, but that didn’t mean you were ready for it when it happened. No, instead, death came hard and fast, all because you had some serious FOMO and a quite pitiful YOLO moment. 

One minute, you were having a great night out with friends, you had a handsome silver fox wrapped around your finger, and then the next thing, you woke to a red landscape of what you only assumed was hell. With your life, it made sense why ‘Hell’ was where you ended up. You died partying and sleeping with the older man, so it only made sense that this was where you would consequently end up. 

A deep sigh left you as you looked at the chaos around you. The only good thing you saw so far out of this event was that you didn’t have bills to pay anymore. It looked like as long as you played your cards right, you could get anything here without needing money. As that thought crossed your mind, an ad for redeeming sinners played on a nearby radio. 

The voice on the radio was alluring as all hell and had you questioning your life and undead choices. Not even five minutes into being dead, and you are already fawning over an older man's voice. It's good to know that living habits don’t die with you in the afterlife. 

Your resolve not shaken, you make your way to where the voice spoke of the Hazbin Hotel and find yourself at the base of a hill, looking up at a grand building with flashing lights. A shiver runs up your spine as you realize how powerful whoever runs this place must be. Maybe pretending to want to be saved would be well worth your time, then. 

Let’s get one thing straight here: you are no damsel; you may like your men older, but that doesn’t mean you need one. No, you are an independent queen who can do what she pleases. She just also realizes when to fold and when to hold her hand. Right now, seeking refuge from the fires and sex work was worth it; however, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t earn your keep all the same. 

While you thought about these prospects and made your way up to the door, you noticed it was open without you even having to knock. Pushing your head through more of the door, it was clear to see what type of establishment this was…a chaotic one. 

Just standing in the entryway, the sights before you were hilarious and intriguing. A cat at the bar grumbled as he watched a spider dance on the bar. A young lady resembling a lamb hurriedly tried to stop the provocative dancing while a gray woman yelled at the spider. A cyclops laughed hysterically while tossing what you could only imagine was a bomb. A small woman rushed around laughing and stabbing the air while a man who looked a little like the lamb girl walked through the room. 

The deer caught your eye the most, though, and it seemed you caught his, too, as he was the only one looking at you and your entrance. You two held eye contact, a shiver running up your spine. Oh, you definitely could get used to staying here. 

Nodding more to yourself than the deer man, you walked in further and cleared your throat, everyone stopping to look at you. With a slight wave, you smiled brightly and introduced yourself.  “Heya, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet ya,”

The room was silent, causing you to laugh awkwardly. As you slowly backed away, thinking maybe this wasn’t a great idea, the lamb girl came over and jumped on you. Holding your arms and bouncing, she spoke excitedly. 

“Oh my goodness, a new arrival! Hi, my name is Charlie. I am the hotel's owner,” She beamed proudly at the statement and motioned to the others all in the lobby area of the room, “And this is the Hazbin Hotel residents and staff! The cat is Husk, then Angel Dust, Vaggie, Cherri, Nifty, my father,” She leaned in and whispered, “Also known as Lucifer,” 

Laughing at your surprised face, she pointed to the deer man last. “This is Alastor. He is the hotelier; he helps me run the hotel! Was it his broadcast that brought you in?”

You shook your head at the information overload and laughed softly. Nodding to the question, you looked at everyone around. “Yes, I actually passed not too long ago, and as I was weighing my options on where to go, I heard the message on the radio.” 

Charlie beamed proudly at Alastor, who just smiled at you precisely as he had been this entire time. You couldn’t lie. He was drop-dead gorgeous. He was tall and fit, and if his voice sounded anything like how it did on the radio, you would be a goner for sure. He was an enigma and one you knew you had to be careful of if you wanted to make it out of this hotel with your head screwed on straight. 

“My my, I am quite honored my radio show was able to bring in a petal quite like yourself, dear,” He spoke so smoothly, and you knew right then how right you were; you were a goner. “I do hope you are staying here with us to be redeemed as Miss Charlotte wishes; I am eager to learn…more about you, miss Y/N.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding. Looking at the others, you laughed and began some small talk while they decided where would be the best place to put you. The conversations ranged from how everyone died to how people got here, and you learned more about how hell worked. Learning that Alastor owned many souls only made him more appealing and dangerous. 

As Charlie led you to your room, she made sure to inform you of the dangers of getting mixed up with Alastor. Being mindful of her warnings and the blaring alarms in your head that did not match the alarms between your legs, you made it a goal to avoid falling for Alastor at all costs. Oh, how wrong you were for that. 

Alastor had his eyes on you the minute he felt your presence near the hotel. You were unlike any other woman he had seen. You looked young and still full of life, so how could someone like you have died so carelessly? Not to mention, he did find you oddly attractive, and your calm demeanor was refreshing. He wanted you and in more ways than just your soul.

He knew the best way to any woman's heart was to court her and get her to fall for him slowly till she needed him and him alone. However, you were a tricky one to get under the skin of. You were so damn stubborn and stuck in your ways of being the lead in your own life that allowing him any control seemed futile. However, the challenge you possessed was all the more thrilling to him. 

It started off simple: He escorted you around the hotel. He wanted to lead you around like a gentleman, but you had your own plans. As he talked and explained a specific part of the hotel, your attention was elsewhere in your explorations. 

“Y/N, dearest, are you even paying attention?” he asked you sharply as you looked at the paintings for the millionth time since your arrival. You really wanted to listen to him, but this was kind of boring. After becoming close with the others, you were eager to hear more about their lives than be trapped with the man you swore not to sleep within this proximity to you. 

“Sorry, Alastor. Yes, I am listening. I was just wondering about some of the paintings; they are quite pretty.” You were honest, at least in the fact that you enjoyed the paintings. Someone had a knack for art, and you were not shy to admit it. However, when you soon learned it was he who chose all the art minus a handful, you quickly shut down your praise. 

The next time Alastor tried to win you over and claim your soul was when he began opening doors for you. He never thought the day would come when he saw someone challenge him so brazenly. However, that was probably the day he fell in love with you, as he allowed it to happen.

“Uh…Alastor, what are you doing?” You looked at the opened door with your arms crossed, your body still midstep from when he raced ahead to open the door. 

“I am being a gentleman, Miss Y/N, that is all.” He looked so innocent, but you had heard more stories and learned so much about him from the shadows. He was no innocent man but a cold-blooded killer. You wouldn’t lie, though, that his past and present only made you that more attracted to the idea of him. You wanted him biblically, and it only made you hate his advances more, as you didn’t want to lose your soul. 

“No, thank you, Alastor. I can open my own doors.” You quickly took the door from him, closing it and reopening it before walking through. The look on Alastor's face was akin to pain and frustration. He was not a fan of your independent attitude and was willing to bet he could break you before the year ended. 

Alastor resorted to making sure you always walked on the right side of the road, that your chairs were pulled out for you, and that your food was pre-cut; he even went out of his way to acquire a simple ruby necklace for you to wear so others knew you were accounted for. However, you were stubborn and not taking on his advances. All you would give him was that Cheshire grin and stubbornly push his buttons by mimicking his chivalry with your version. 

When it came to Alastors courting skills and all his advances, you managed to turn them down in the same stubborn way. However, it didn’t go amiss by Alastor that each turn down went from cold and distant worry to more playful and light-hearted jests on your part. Was it possible you were falling for him, too? 

He admitted to himself a while ago, just as you had that the immediate attraction you two felt despite the age and generational gap was mutual. He didn’t know how to break you while you were too worried about becoming his next meal, even though the way he wanted to eat you was not how you were thinking. 

That was until one fateful day when the hotel was barren except you two. You had sat perched in the library reading some trashy romance novel, hoping to get yourself off while Alastor was busy with his work. Busy working till his shadow happened to inform him of what you were reading. 

The book you had chosen was interesting in that the main female lead was a time traveler who managed to end up in the olden times as a helpless damsel needing a strong man to care for her—the complete opposite of what you were as a person. However, you wouldn’t lie that the thought of letting Alastor take care of you wasn’t electrifying; it just went against everything you stood for. 

However, reading the book and getting to the more intense sex scenes where the woman is restrained and taken care of sexually only caused you to feel more of a heated desire for the man who had plagued your thoughts since you made eye contact with him all those months ago. Sighing deeply, you flipped to the next page and moaned softly at the words, wishing it to be you. You wondered how long your and Alastor’s game of cat and mouse would play out until one caved.

Alastor entered the room and looked over your shoulder. He was enamored with you rutting into your leg as you read the heated pages. He smirked as a tentacle wrapped around your throat and pulled your attention up from the book to his eyeline. “My dear, what do we seem to have here?” He practically purred, and you whimpered softly. 

You were already so close to release on your heel that you didn’t realize the pleas coming from your lips. You needed an older man badly; you needed Alastor—someone who would worship your body. As the pleas left your lips, it didn’t take long for Alastor to pounce on you, his pent-up desire for the independent brat growing. 

Alastor wasted no time and already had your sleep shorts pooled at your ankles,  ratty nightshirt hiked up your back and drooping off one shoulder. Your inner thighs were slick and glistening with arousal from your earlier menstruations while reading.

 Alastor hummed in amusement, bending you over the couch, his cold tentacles holding you in place as he moved down your back. His soft breaths tickled you as much as they excited you. He hummed as he saw your pussy in full view, a smile growing on his face. He touched it softly, slick coating his hand as he spoke, “My dear, you are already soaking; you were thinking about me, weren’t you? Thinking about me taking you just like that man does in that book.” He smiled wider, lining his face with your slick. “All you had to do was ask, beautiful.”

A tender hand pushes down on your back, further squishing your chest into the soft plush of the couch arm, his other hand grasping firmly at the fat of your backside where Alastor’s face is lapping at your dripping cunt. Soft mewls cry from your lips, hands reaching back to grasp his head, fingers tangling through the soft red and black locks, being mindful of his ears. He only grunts in response as he continues his onslaught on your most sensitive area.

What felt like minutes and hours at the same time passed; your legs were trembling, knees threatening to buckle under you with three orgasms already coaxed out of you on his tongue alone, milking you of your sweet, slick nectar. Your quiet, strained cries did nothing but aid the tightness in Alastor’s dress pants, his cock oozing arousal in his boxers, dampening the fabric beyond. Every involuntary shift of his hips causes more friction and tension with the fabric, sending a groan throughout your pussy.

Alastors noises vibrate against your cunt, shocking your overstimulated and oversensitive clit. All you can do is cry out as he pushes himself deeper, closer. his tongue is merciless and selfish as he threatens to swallow you whole. At this point, you're begging for him to relent, repeated pleas of his name falling from your lips as the familiar heat builds in your core, and you writhe under his hands. The cold slick of his tentacles digs into your skin as he takes hold of your ankles and wrists now to keep you open. 

Everything becomes overstimulating as the world begins to spin. Your jaw goes slack, and saliva pools in your mouth as it threatens to spill over your swollen lips. Tears are streaming down your flushed face, your hair is frizzy, and your eyes are practically rolling to the back of your head as yet another release washes over you, sending a shudder through your body.

Alastor finally pulls his face away from the space he has claimed as his between your thighs, not without flattening his tongue over your cunt for a last taste gathering all of you he could. The tentacles held you tighter as he smirked and sat upright, admiring the mess he had made of you. A slick shimmer on his face as he licked his lips, “Delicious, better than any venison I have ever had, dove.”

As he stands up, his hand on your back pushes you back onto the couch arm. He kneaded the flesh of your backside, groaning at the sight in front of him. His hands meet your hips, pulling you back on his clothed erection. A small yelp escapes your lips at the friction against your sensitive area. Your frayed nerves against the soft material that soaks up your arousal and previous releases. 

You whine as he rocks his hips slowly, grunting as he watches the material dampen quickly before he pulls away from your hips. His movements are hasty, and he does not waste any more time as he uses more tentacles to help not only hold your wiggling form but also get his clothes off him. He liked this sight of your half-dressed attire as he held purchase over you, dominance you refused till now to give up.

Once he was undressed, he bleated softly at the warmth of your puffy, swollen folds as he rubbed his cockhead up and down your pussy before catching your willing slit. He groans at the tightness that welcomes him; the slick, clamping, spongy walls that pulse around his dick almost milks him of every last drop of cum. 

Your voice is hoarse, almost gone by the time his cock is sheathed in you, his cockhead brushing your sweet spot as you feel him abuse your need for him. You can feel every prominent vein of his cock against your spongy walls; they're practically ingrained in you as your pussy is molded to take his dick.

A creamy, white circle forms at the base of his cock as he pushes his length inside, his girthy dick stretching your weeping pussy with loud, lewd squelches. He doesn't give you time to compose yourself. He's selfish tonight, unapologetically so, because you had been toying with him for too long. After almost a year of cat and mouse, this is finally how he takes you. You drove him mad.

It isn't long until your backside is red, his hips pistoning into your sopping cunt, the sight of your slick pussy swallowing his red, angry cock so needily, sucking him in so desperately and clamping around him was addicting, and the feel even more so. His pace isn't lovely; he's mean, relentless, and bruising.

"Fuck sweetheart, so needy for me; you could have just told me how much you wanted this from the get-go. Saved us both precious time," he whined in your ear, his cock drilling into your tight hole as he nipped at your earlobe. Claws out, he uses his hands, kneading the fat of your ass, a sharp slap to your skin causing it to turn even more flushed and red as he fucked himself stupid using your cunt.

He was growing more and more pussy-drunk, drool forming in his mouth and pooling in his permanent smile, leaning over to place his lips onto the expanse of your shoulder. He pressed lewd, wet kisses against your supple skin, adding to the marks and bruises from his teeth as his demonic form began to take precedence.

With how hard he was holding on to you with his hands and tentacles, you were covered in bruises. He was marking you as his not only with chivalry and jewels but pretty marks that will mar your skin for weeks. He tightened his hold around your throat, pulling you up to a sitting position. He pumped into you harder, watching your stomach grow with his length in you. He groaned heatedly as he transformed more; his hand was pulling you up while his other hand began pushing down on the spot on your belly where he was poking through. 

As you both whined and felt relief, he growled in your ear, “I will make you all mine, my Doe. Not a single person can have you now.” He pushed harder for a few more pumps before you two were spilling over one another. He filled you to the brim, his seed spilling out before he could even pull out of you. With a satisfied hum, he let his body slowly return to normal as he slid out. 

You were fucked out beyond belief. He smiled, gently picking you up and placing your clothes back on you. He held you in his arms and sighed, acting as if he didn’t just release eons of pent-up sexual tension on you. He snapped his fingers, redressing, and walked with you in his arms to his chambers. There, he would repeatedly remind you who you now truly belong to. Soul or not, he was the one to dominate the disobedient brat you were.

[jyoongim]

i came across this reel and my immediate thought was "lucifer finding out alastor wanted to date his daughter" (not charlie ofcccc)

Morningstar!Reader x Alastor

>i switched it up a bit so it’ll be Lucidaddy finding out Alastor is dating his baby<

————————————————————————————-

“Just play it cool sis. Its just dad” you tried to reassure your sister, Charlie who was sweating profusely. You grabbed her hand and gave her a smile which made the older girl calm down a bit.

”Youre right! Its just dad…hahaha”

Vaggie had suggested that since the hotel wasn’t going like planned that Charlie should call y’all father. 

Who just happened to be the King of Hell itself.

Charlie shot it down, but you knew that your dad could help relieve some of the stress off the both of you.

So you had everyone in the hotel cleanup and promise they would be on their best behavior.

especially your boyfriend.

”Just be your charming self without the sarcasm please” You pouted up at the tall demon, who sported a smile as he hummed in acknowledgment at your words.

You were nervous to introduce Alastor to your father. You didn’t really have much experience with dating and the relationship between the two of you was as good as it was between him and your sister (slightly better because you’re his baby). You just wanted everything to be smooth enough to slip that you were dating someone.

Surely nothing could go wrong right?

——————————————————————

“Hi dad wel-OH!” Charlie wheezed as Lucifer pulled her into a big hug, squeezing the air out her lungs

”Charlieeee!” He gushed before his eyes caught yours.

You tried to avoid the bone-crushing hug, but your father was too fast; pulling you in as well.

”Oooh my girls how I’ve missed you!”

You missed how Alastor’s eye twitched.

You and Charlie squirmed out of his grasp, trying to regain your composures as you sucked air back into your lungs.

Charlie cleared her throat “Dad welcome to the Hazbin Hotel” she gave a wobbly smile as she showed the last minute decorated lobby.

She introduced all the residents so far and just as she was continue showing him around, Lucifer looked at the bar

”Oh! What in the unholy hell is that?” He looked to you

”babygirl tell me you didn’t approve of that?”

Before you could say anything, Alastor manifested by your side.

”I thought it adds a bit of color, don’t you think?” His smile was big, showing off his teeth.

Your dad grimaced, looking from Charlie to you to Alastor “who-who what are you the bellhop?” he asked.

Alastor laughed “haha! Oh no! I am the host of the hotel. Maybe you’ve heard my radio broadcast?”

Lucifer deadpanned “nope. Maybe that’s why the girls call it the ‘Hazbin hotel ahaha”

you and Charlie winced.

Alastor narrowed his eyes “It was actually my idea.”

”Oh? Well it wasn’t every clever” Lucifer challenged, making Alastor bend to his level ”Ahaha Fuck you” Alastor hissed.

You and Charlie got between the two, you frowning at Alastor, slapping his chest, while Charlie tried to distract dad.

”OoohOk! Dad Alastor here has been a big help.” She said trying to paint the Overlord in a more positive light. She looked at you as if to help plead her case.

”She’s right dad” you said with a smile “Without Alastor I don’t know how we would have gotten this far” you looked at the red demon smiling “he’s been good to us”

That was true. You have no idea where the hotel would be without Alastor’s help.

“These two lovely ladies have such optimistic hearts. I am more than happy to fulfill any desire they have” Alastor said, smiling down at you, wrapping an arm around you, pulling into his side.

Your father narrowed his eyes at the actions and growled lowly.

”uuuh huuuhh. Well-” he slapped Alastor’s arm with his cane and guided you and Charlie to the other guests to be introduced.

”how about you introduce me to your OTHER friends?”

When Charlie introduced Vaggie, you felt your stomach ball in a knot. “Oh you like girls THANK goodness!ahaha” Lucifer’s eyes caught yours, a nervous smile of his face “don’t tell me my baby is in a relationship as well?” Oh what a hopeful look he had.

You looked at Charlie, who gave you an encouraging nod, you cleared your throat, straightening up

”o-oh well about that…” you nervously laughed, looking down as you wring your hands.

A large hand grabbed yours to ease your nervous antic, and instead intertwined your fingers together. You look up to see Alastor standing behind you and bringing your interlocked hands to his lips and press them to the back of your hand. He smiled at you softly as he wrapped his other arm around you.

You looked over to see the King of Hell looking like he’s going to be sick. 

“Dad…Alastor isn’t just the host of the hotel…he’s also my boyfriend” you said smiling at your dad.

Lucifer went to say something, but your sister stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder “Dad she’s happy and i know Alastor looks like he’s up to no good which most of the time he isn’t   But he actually makes her really happy. Look”

The short king watched as the tall red demon gave you a squeeze, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead and nuzzle you. He saw how Alastor looked at you with complete devotion, while you looked at him with love in your eyes.

He sighed, bringing your attention back to him. He held out his hand, a tight smile on his face “nice to meet you”

Alastor grinned and shook his hand…before wiping it like it was the most repulsive thing “pleasure to meet you sir!”

You sighed a breath of relief. That wasn’t so bad.

”Tell me…you haven’t slept with my daughter have you?”

”DAD!”

”DAD!”

”what?! I can ask that!?”

”Your youngest has an insatiable sexual appetite”

”AL!”

”SAY WHAT!?”

[annwrites]

⸻ being oz cobb’s sugar baby would include:

The first time he sees you, he’s taken with you.

Hell, he’s a man from the East Side. of course he likes pretty lil’ things. 

That’s not saying he likes only ‘lil’. Curvy women? Sign him the fuck up. Curves & softness & love-handles to hold onto? Goddamn, a man can only get so erect, sweetheart.

He’s watching you from an upper floor while you sit at the bar, sipping at your drink, shyly tucking hair behind your ears, laughing quietly at the way your friend flirts with the men around her.

You don’t know your beauty—your feminine power. But he fuckin’ does.

You sure as hell deserve some male attention of your own. 

So he pulls aside one of his girls.

❝You see that sweetheart right there? The one in the purple sequin dress? Yeah, you get her another of whatever she’s drinkin’. She asks? You tell ‘er it’s from me.❞

You glance around once you’ve been given your drink, searching for your mysterious suitor—sure the young woman must be wrong about it being the Penguin himself.

You’re not sure whether to be flattered or afraid. The powerful man he is…will he expect something in return?

And then your eyes meet his—he stands balconies above where you sit, watching you with a small smile upon his scarred lips.

And he merely gives you a small nod while you shyly raise your glass in a silent thanks.

And then the young woman asks if you’d like to meet him.

You’re sure she’s part of some ploy to get you into his bed, but with a heady amount of alcohol running through your veins, you go against your better judgement…& tell her yes out of simple curiosity.

A few girls are mingling around when you’re taken up, so you stand aside awkwardly until you see movement from the corner of your eye & watch as he steps out of his office, with an unexpected limp to his gait.

You flush, watching him take step after step toward you.

A limp, heavy-set, scarred, well-dressed, older…he’s so handsome.

But you can’t let on that you think that, because you don’t do one-night stands. Don’t do casual flings of any sort.

You’re very much the committed, romantic relationship type. And, well, look at the women he surrounds himself with. He most certainly is not, you’re sure.

❝Would you like to sit, sweetheart?❞ He asks, gesturing to the dark, plush couch situated before a row of polished glass windows that overlook the Iceberg Lounge below.  You nod nervously, smoothing your skirt beneath you before seating yourself—hyper-aware of your every move as you cross your legs at the ankles and delicately rest your hands in your lap.

God, you’re a real sweet young fuckin’ lady is what he thinks of you. What—with those innocent, wide eyes, soft smile, & flushed cheeks, how can he not?

❝You mind?❞ He asks, pointing to the seat next to you.  You shake your head, smiling invitingly. He seats himself heavily next to you and you bite back a grin at the way the cushion dips under his weight. You have no control over the way your cheeks have remained warm since the moment you set eyes on him, however. He rests an arm behind you, and with your head lightly swimming, you have half-a-mind to cuddle into his side—sure that he feels soft, yet firm. Steady. Safe. And then you get a whiff of his cologne. You don’t know the scent by-heart, or anything, but it’s intoxicating.  You want to bury your face in his chest, you think, admiring the dark hairs that peek out from the top of his shirt where it’s slightly unbuttoned, wanting to run your fingers through them. ❝So,❞ he says, leaning back. ❝You been here before?❞ God, his accent… It causes a pleasant feeling of warmth to bloom between your thighs. You want him to shove his large hand between them and ease his fingers inside of you—rings and all. Your eyes flit to his and you shake your head.  ❝First time,❞ he says, nodding. ❝You come with a date?❞ You giggle from the alcohol, shaking your head, and he grins at the beautiful fuckin’ sound. ❝You like it, then, doll?❞ He asks, glancing to the glittering, thumping club below, then back to you.  You shrug slightly, leaning back. ❝It’s very…noisy. Busy.❞ He smirks. ❝Yeah, you’ll have that at the biggest nightclub in town, huh?❞ ❝It’s the first one I’ve been to. My friend wanted me to come. She said I have to come out of my shell.❞ You lean your head against the soft cushion, pulling your legs onto the sofa while you turn toward him, tossing your heels onto the floor. Makin’ yourself comfortable? He likes that. ❝You shy, baby?❞ He asks, wanting to desperately to reach out and fuckin’ touch you—to run his fingers through your soft, curled hair, or along your young, supple body.  But he knows the minute he makes a move, you’ll do like all the rest and scram—disgusted and scared. He can look—but even then, only in measured glances—but never touch. Not unless he’s payin’ for it. And you ain’t no prostitute. You nod quietly, smiling slightly, as if you’re sharing a private joke with yourself. Maybe he’s the punchline, he thinks. Wouldn’t be the first time. ❝Somethin’ funny, sweetheart?❞ You grin, glancing down and you giggle quietly. ❝You’re very handsome.❞ He’s immediately dumbstruck. Did you just call him fuckin’ handsome? Ain’t no broad ever called him that ‘cept his ma. Never. He raises a brow. ❝Had a bit much to drink, then.❞ You shrug slightly. ❝Not so much to have beer goggles, if that’s what you mean. I just get giggly is all. And it makes conversation easier.❞

He stays silent for a moment, watching as your eyes trail along his body, and he fights against shifting nervously under your…it ain’t a lustful gaze, is it? Maybe ya ain’t all there. Done some time in Arkham, for all he knows. God, he’s fuckin’ pathetic. To think the only way a woman could ever want him is if she’s batshit. ❝I like heavy-set men,❞ you state quietly. ❝And I don’t mind older. They…they know what they want, at least. How to treat women, I think. Well, some of them. A lot of men are the same…❞ He rests his head against his fist. ❝Sounds like y’know from experience.❞ You shake your head. ❝I just know young men aren’t what I want. Things aren’t like they used to be.❞ Your eyes meet his.   ❝I’m a romantic,❞ you say with a soft smile. ❝And men my age only want—❞ He chuckles, cutting you short. ❝If you’re gonna say sex, doll, ‘fraid to tell ya they’re all after that.❞ You waver for a moment. ❝Are you?❞ He immediately clocks the tinge of doubt to your voice; knows you’re probably worried that that’s why he bought you a drink and invited you up here. ❝Nah,❞ he says with a shake of his head. ❝Just wanted to have a conversation with a pretty girl.❞ You smile broadly at that and his heart fuckin’ skips a beat when you do. Already you’re doin’ a goddamn number on ‘im. ❝You think I’m pretty?❞ You whisper, glancing around to the tall, slender women around—who look like they just walked off the pages of a magazine—then back to him. ❝Got eyes, don’t I?❞ He asks, gesturing with his hand. You tug nervously at the hem of your dress, trying to conceal as much of your legs as you can, lest he look too close and see you’re not nearly as attractive as what this dim lighting must make you instead seem.  ❝Don’t do that,❞ he says, reaching out, taking your hand in his, and you quickly look at him.  ❝You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby. Every inch. Caught my attention from all the way up here. And my eyes ain’t what they used to be, but I couldn’t take ‘em off of ya.❞ He leans in slightly toward you, sliding a hand up your thigh. ❝Any man who doesn’t treat you like the goddess you are ain’t worth a second of your time. Ya understand?❞ You nod, nervously biting your lower lip, and he nearly groans at the sight. And then he lets you go and you fill with disappointment.  ❝So, you ain’t got a man is what I’m hearin’. Find that hard to believe. They must chase you down the street, I’d say, if I didn’t know any better.❞ You shake your head, running your fingertips through the sequins on your dress. ❝I stopped trying a long time ago.❞ His scarred mouth tugs into a frown. 

Somethin’ young & sweet & beautiful like you given’ up on love already? You’re breakin’ his fuckin’ heart.

❝Can’t tell me you don’t ever get lonely,❞ he states. You pull at a loose sequin. ❝I always am. But I don’t see anyone coming along to change that anytime soon.❞ You shrug, fighting back the tears that sting your eyes, not wanting to sour the evening.  That makes two of you, then, he thinks.  He glances around—only a couple girls still left upstairs then, talking amongst themselves—then back to you. He can’t believe he’s about to fuckin’ say this—offer it—and he can’t even blame it on bein’ drunk. He’s only had one martini tonight. But you all on your own—just your voice and the look of you and the brief touches he’s already been granted have already intoxicated him in another way. ❝What if you was wrong?❞ He asks, his voice quiet and evenly leveled. You glance to him with furrowed brows. ❝Hm?❞ He shrugs slightly, reaching up and smoothing the hair at the back of his head. ❝You ain’t the only one who’s lonely, doll. Maybe we, uh, come to an arrangement?❞ Your stomach drops and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on-end. You should’ve never come up here. Should’ve never accepted that drink. ❝I… I appreciate the offer, but—❞ He raises both of his hands, palms facing toward you. ❝Just let me finish, hon.❞ You grow silent again. ❝I’m not askin’ you to go down on me, or nothin’. I ain’t that kinda gent. Just…❞ He sighs. ❝I know we only just met. And I’m just suggestin’ a trial run for the time bein’ ‘til we’re both sure we know what the hell we want and what we’re doin’.❞ He takes your hand in his once more. ❝I got more dough than I know what to do with most days. And livin’ in Gotham ain’t always cheap. Who knows, maybe you come from money. Either way, we keep each other company. Just…spend time together. Let me take you to dinner a couple of times, and we talk—keep gettin’ to know one another. That sort of thing.❞ You glance down to where your hand rests in his and he continues.  ❝If you decide you’re not interested—that it ain't what you’re lookin’ for—we part ways on good terms. No hard feelings. But maybe you like what you see—like what I got to offer—and we see where things go.❞ He rests his hand back in his lap then, in disbelief at himself. Is he that fuckin’ desperate for female companionship that he’s willing to offer himself up to some girl he’s only just met to be her personal piggy bank? But he knows that’ll only ever be his real value to a woman. What else does he have to give one? ❝Are…you suggesting you be my…❞ You waver for a moment before saying it, your eyes staring to his own of warm brown. ❝Sugar daddy?❞ He grins slightly, chuckling. ❝I guess so.❞ You chew your lip nervously for a moment, unsure how to respond. You're supposed to say no. That's what decent good girls do when propositioned like this. But like he said, the two of you can start things out with a trial run. And you're feeling more bold than usual with being somewhat under the influence. And he seems nice. Well, nice enough so far, that is. ❝Okay,❞ you say with a smile. He returns it. ❝Might want to start out by tellin' me your name, doll.❞ ❝Y/N,❞ you say shyly, scooting the least bit more toward him in interest. He chuckles, pulling out his cellphone. ❝Thinkin' maybe we should exchange numbers.❞

Oz sends you home in a cab that he paid for.

And come the morning, you’ve got a slight hangover, along with a text from your new benefactor.

It doesn’t take long for you & Oz to begin getting along with utter ease, simply via text alone. 

He’s very easy to talk to; kind, easygoing, sweet.  

And then the day finally comes where he invites you to dinner. 

And, while nervous, you agree to go.

He of course, the gentleman he is, asks if he can be the one to pick you up, & you consent.

When he pulls up outside your apartment, he shoots you a text & you come right down.

And god, if you ain’t fuckin’ beautiful.

Oz stands at the passenger side of the car, holding the door open for you, utterly fuckin’ speechless at the sight of you. From your curls, to your glossy smile, to that sweet little dress you got on. How lucky a man is he that you’re the woman he gets to have on his arm tonight? You shyly step over to him and smile, then laugh quietly—nervously. You can’t believe you’re going on a dinner date with one of the most notorious mobsters in Gotham. Even in your most ridiculous daydreams you never could’ve plotted such a story. Oz rests a hand on your hip and presses a soft kiss to your cheek and you flush at the gesture.  ❝You look beautiful, doll. Absolutely breathtakin’,❞ he says, tucking a curl behind your ear. You slip your fingers down his black satin tie. ❝Thank you.❞ Your eyes flit to his. ❝You look very handsome. But we don’t… You didn’t have to make reservations at some fancy restaurant. Burgers and fries are perfectly fine with me.❞ He grins at that. ❝Gotta make a good impression on our first date, don’t I?❞ You climb into his car then.

Dinner goes really well.

The two of you laugh & eat & you quickly come to learn that Oz's drink of choice are martinis.

He orders a ridiculously expensive bottle of red wine & you down a glass, but pace yourself after, not wanting to seem a lush.

And you let him order for you, in regards to your dinner, & he gets you an extravagant lobster & pasta.

He orders for himself a steak.

You like how he cleans his plate.

And by the end of the evening, you decide that you’re his. 

You like spending time with him.

He’s not as intimidating as you’d imagined he’d be. 

Or maybe it’s just because it’s you that he’s complimentary & kind & gentle.

Either way, you really like the way he treats you, & touches you, & looks at & speaks to you...

And it honestly kind of turns you on the way some people look at him in fear, or avert their eyes when they speak to him in timid tones.

It makes him seem so…powerful.

❝You really mean that, sweetheart?❞ You smile widely, nodding. ❝Even if all we do is talk, I’m happy. It’s nice…having your attentions.❞ You take his hand in yours, sliding your thumb along the cool metal of his ring. He cups your cheek in his hand then. ❝You don’t know what the fuck you’re doin’ to me, baby.❞

You quickly manage to wrap Oz tightly around your finger without so much as trying.

You go to visit him at the loft on days off from work, simply so you don’t have to sit around lonely all day.

He tells you to make yourself at home—that what’s his is yours.

He likes to ‘joke’ about movin’ you in with him, lettin’ him take care of you—makin’ you a kept woman.

In truth, you don’t mind the sound of that, but you can’t just up & change your life that drastically.

What if things go sideways & you’re out of a job & left hurting for money.

And then Oz starts giving you an allowance—begins to regularly wire money to you every week.

More than you’d have ever expected.

More than you make at your job in a month.

❝Just want to make sure you’re taken care of ‘s all.❞ ❝I don’t… Oz, I don’t care about the money. I’m just happy not to be lonely anymore.❞ He presses his lips to yours. ❝I know. It’s what makes you all the more deservin’ of it.❞

You begin to occasionally spend the night. 

Your long days together sometimes tend to run over into the evening, because you’re reluctant to leave you’re having such a good time.

And then the later it gets, the more tired you are. And, well, he has no issue with sharin’ his bed with you.

Likes it when you use his shower.

Likes it even more on the nights when you use his soaps instead of the expensive designer ones he purchased for you. Likes it when you smell like him.

And then, when you pad into his bedroom & drop your towel & slip on one of his shirts to sleep in... Fuck, do you want to give this old man a heart attack?

The two of you haven’t been intimate yet, & he’s not holdin’ his breath on that, but just havin’ you sleepin’ next to him? It’s enough to give him a hard-on.

Especially when you cuddle into his side & rest your hand atop his broad chest & the two of you talk quietly in the dark about everything & nothing.

Like you’ve been doin’ it for years.

And when he wakes up in the morning to you cookin’ him breakfast? Swayin’ your hips in his kitchen to music while you fix him pancakes, or bacon & eggs?

He can imagine havin’ his days start like this every day.

So he gives you a key to the place & tells you to come & go as you please. 

Hell, you’re already there more than you are at your own place now. Might as well start callin’ it your second home.

And while you can be a homebody, he still likes to take you out shopping when he gets a break from business.

❝Ozzy, I don’t… This necklace is five hundred dollars. It’s just a piece of jewelry. Do you know what I could get for this same amount at a thrift shop, or—❞ ❝It’s chump change for me, sweetheart. You know how I love spoilin’ you. So let me. C’mon, let’s take it up. Unless you wanna keep browsin’?❞ You shake your head, not even wanting to have him buy this. And while it’s done with his money, he always likes watching you be the one to pay with his black card.

You quickly come to learn why when the two of you get back in his car & you glance between his legs & see his erection.

Your eyes flit to his & instead of shying away from it, he shrugs.

❝You see what you do to me?❞ He turns the Maserati over. ❝Guess you finally get why I like blowin' money on you now, doll.❞ You flush, biting your lower lip while you slip your necklace on, leaning your head back against the seat while you give him a sultry look. ❝Can I show you how grateful I am back at the loft?❞ He raises a brow in utter fuckin’ shock. ❝Baby, you don’t gotta—❞ You run your hand over his erection, feeling a pleasant pulse settling firmly between your slick thighs. ❝I want to,❞ you whisper. And then you do something most unexpected. You reach under your dress and slip off your soaked panties, and reach over, stuffing them in his pocket. ❝Now you see what you do to me, too,❞ you say, brushing a kiss over his lips.

He stands there silently as you unbutton his shirt with slightly shaking hands.

He tries to talk you out of it more than once, until you finally tell him something to calm him.

❝I’m insecure, too. I…I can find something wrong with myself literally from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. Why do you think I like to wear such…conservative clothing? Why I don’t like to show much skin? I hate…my body.❞ Tears sting your eyes and you drop your hands, slowly changing your mind. But for his sake. To not have to see what lies under your clothes. Not the stretch marks or cellulite or your pudgy thighs or stomach, or— He takes your face between his hands, brushing his thumb over your lips. ❝There ain’t nothin’ you could show me that could drive me away, angel. I want what I want, doll. And what I want is you.❞ He slides his hands down your waist. ❝All of you.❞

You blush madly once he’d undressed.

But he insists on keeping on the sock on his right foot. That it’s not something he’s ready for yet. He needs you to be patient with that.

So you are. Thankful he’s willing to even try.

You climb into his lap, & run your hands down his large chest before wrapping your arms around his neck, sinking down the length of him, rocking your hips against his own. 

And Oz fucking worships your body.

Your calves, & your thighs that you think are too big—have too many stretch marks.

He tells you he’ll get to it once he looks over every inch of you, but he fully intends to shove his face between ‘em to taste you.

He kisses your stomach & grips your round, squishy hips in his hands, squeezing tightly. 

He tells you they’re fuckin’ perfect for holdin’ onto.

He grabs your ass, smacking it gently, liking how it spills out of his palms.

And your breasts? 

Christ have mercy.

They’re fuckin’ perfect no matter what size—what your nipples look like. Whether they’re perky, or they sag. They’re breasts. That’s all he needs to know.

What any man does, really.

He just incessantly praises you. He tells you how beautiful you are. How unbelievably fuckin' perfect.

More than he deserves. Thought he'd ever have.

Your heart is near to bursting when you repay the sentiments.

Relay to him how his heavy weight makes you feel so safe & secure.

How sexy you think his limp is.

And his scars—good lord you just want to run your tongue over them.

His voice, though? It's all that's needed to make you wet.

When you come on his cock & in his arms, he holds you close while you cry softly from happiness.

He follows along right after.

He already knew you were a keeper before, but now that he gets to have you in bed? I mean really have you?

Forget about it.

He buys you a fucking car.

When you come over, it's always to gifts waiting for you—clothes, jewelry, shoes, purses.

He doesn't listen a bit when you insist it's all too much.

He feels like it's not near enough.

Not for the gift you're given 'im.

❝I wanna make sure you're looked after, baby. Have everythin' you want. I wanna spoil you fuckin' rotten. Gets me so hard seein' you wearin' the things I picked out for you.❞ You crawl into his lap, pressing your body and lips to his own. ❝I love you.❞ His heart actually skips. ❝Hon—❞ ❝I do, Ozzy.❞ You run your fingers through his thinning hair. ❝I really do.❞ His eyes flit between your own before a satisfied grin spreads across his lips while he slides a hand up your thigh and beneath his button-up that you have on which dwarfs you. ❝I love you too, baby. Every part of me.❞

Oz takes you to meet his mother one day.

And while you're shy & very nervous about making a good impression, you give her your best.

You can't lie. She's a tough & intimidating woman.

But Oz clearly loves her & it warms your heart to see that he still looks after her.

How many others would do the same for their parents at his age?

So the three of you have dinner together & you remain fairly shy & quiet throughout the evening.

You worry it will make her think less of you. Or give her the impression that you don't like her, you're stuck-up, etc.

After dinner, Oz tells you to go make yourself comfortable in the living room.

So you do, until you get thirsty & go to retrieve yourself a glass of water & overhear what is supposed to clearly be a private conversation.

Once the two of you are back to the loft, it's when you let him know you heard every word.

❝She seems real quiet, Oswald.❞ ❝She's always like that, Ma. She still gets shy around me sometimes. Just her nature. I don't mind.❞ ❝Well, she loves ya, I can tell. And you love her?❞ A beat of silence. ❝With my whole fuckin' heart.❞ You fight back a teary smile. You hear dishes clanging. ❝You going to give her a ring, then, or—❞ ❝Ma—❞ ❝I'm not gonna be around forever, Oswald. I want to see you settled. Married. Maybe with a kid runnin' around. She's a good girl. Sweet. She'll do you good. Already has from the looks of things. You ain't gonna find another one like her.❞

He sighs in exasperation. ❝She deserves better than spendin' her life next to a broken down old man. I'll die before her, leavin' her all alone. I ain't gonna subject her to that.❞

And that maybe instead of just deciding for you, he should ask you what you want so you can give him your own answer.

❝Doll, I'm not—❞ You climb into his lap—your favorite position when it comes to not only getting your way, but forcing him to listen to you. ❝You're the man that I love. I'm not... Forcing you to ask me that if you truly don't want to. I'm just saying that... If you do, to do so: ask. When you're ready.❞

And the time comes when he does.

His Ma had given him her old wedding ring the same night she met you.

He seems the picture of composure the night he asks.

He does it over dinner in the loft which he had made—salad and bread and one of your favorite pasta dishes.

You stand, put yourself in his lap and tell him, with tears running down your cheeks, yes, yes, yes.

You have a small wedding at a Catholic church he & his Ma used to attend services at in his younger years.

You wear a designer dress that he had flown in all the way from Paris.

He finds himself in constant disbelief that you're all his & want to be. Much more since you know the things he does.

You've washed the damn blood out of his clothes before, for Christ's sake.

He knows you're too good for him. That you'll have always deserved better.

Even if you tell him... That he's the best there is.