#fic: the penguin (oswald cobb x reader)

[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.

[finniestoncrane]

💗 with penguin? from the batman

Farrell!Penguin x Fem!Reader, word count: 750 mmmmmmm yes please anon!! this old romantic??? he'd be aching to tell his partner how he felt about them, but he's a shy boy at heart!! little bit of ozzie losing his calm exterior and accidentally spilling the beans about his devotion while he's balls deep in you coming right up!! 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: penetrative sex, sweetheart/baby used, daddy!kink, reader has vagina, confessions of love, eeny weeny bit of dirty talk

Any and all fears that you had about what you meant to Oswald seemed pointless in that moment. The worry that you meant nothing more to him than a good, easy fuck at the end of a long day quickly dissipated when his cock was buried inside of you, his large hands holding your body as he rutted into you. You could do a lot worse. And if that was all you were to him, then you were grateful for it.

Who would turn down such a lucrative opportunity? Spoiled when he could, or when you let him. Fucked with the kind of feral attitude you might only find in someone trying to prove something. Given an insight into what life was like for the true rulers in Gotham. Importantly, though, you were also offered respect and care. A little bit of affection when he let his facade drop. The gold glinting grin would slip just a moment every so often, and his eyes would soften as he watched you put your clothes back on, or when you left his office at the lounge.

Sometimes, you let yourself believe that there were words behind the warm smile he offered you. A deeper meaning. You weren't willing to push him though, so you kept your questions to yourself. It was easy enough to do when your lips only opened to take in his cock, his fingers, his tongue, or to let out moans of pleasure and groans of sweet, delicious pain.

Oswald did most of the talking between you both, socially and sexually. As he pummelled into your hips, you watched his lips form the lust-driven rambling from your position on top of his desk. His hands skimmed down your thighs, tracing over the sides of your torso as he spoke.

"Fuck baby, that's it, that's the stuff right there... Let daddy show you... You gonna take it good?... Yeah you know what to do... Cos you're a good girl... My good girl... You're amazing baby doll... God, I-... I uh..."

The sudden pause, the way he almost stuttered, wasn't something you'd seen in him before. He was unsure of himself, of his words, of his intentions. And Oswald was always prepared. Given that the pace had slowed, you caught your breath and used the brief moment of reprieve to check on him.

"Ozzie? You ok?"

"Nah, I'm fine baby, don't worry about it."

He could tell the mood had shifted though. You had a distinct look of concern in your eyes, and he realised that if he held back from you now that he might lose a little bit of trust from you.

The brief pause was over though, and he realised he'd missed the moment. It was too late to say it now, so he tried to bring his focus back to the present, how you felt against him, around him. Maybe now was the time. Maybe he could feel vulnerable, open, honest. Your eyes, staring up at him, concern, genuine feeling behind them, only confirmed to him that this was the right thing to do.

Oswald's finger and thumb gripped at either side of your chin, holding your head in his palm as he redirected your attention to him. It felt like an eternity, his eyes gazing into yours, focused and intense, his cock buried up to the hilt, throbbing against your clenching walls.

"God... I love you, sweetheart."

He couldn't keep it too sweet though. You'd find out how soft he was soon enough, for now, he could be honest, but he felt like he had to remain sexy and confident. So he kept going, hoping that you wouldn't linger too long on his sentiments, trying to lull you back into dazed arousal before you criticised him for his confession.

"I love your skin. I love your mouth."

His pace picked back up, and you could only moan in response to each declaration of affection.

"I love your hands, your body."

You could feel your body tensing, giving way to the control of your orgasm as he continued.

"I love that warm, wet cunt of yours too. Love the way it makes me feel."

Oswald groaned as he let the last world trail out, his fingers digging into your skin where he held you, pulling you down onto his cock. His length pushed into you, bottoming out, up to the hilt, each thrust pressing against your limit as he emphasised each word with the branding of your walls with his cock.

"I. Love. You."

[acapelladitty]

`♡° kinktober 2024! ---

☆ kink: lapdance

☆ pairing: Oswald Cobblepot/Reader

☆ summary: Oz has something you want and you know exactly how to get it.

kinktober '24 ☆ main masterlist ☆ ao3

Unveiling your outfit with a dramatic flourish, you allow the long trench coat to drop to the floor as you arch your back and stand in what you hope is a sexy pose. The thin, barely there material which makes up the bra and panties set that only just covers your most intimate parts is paired with fishnet thigh-highs which cling to your lotion-soaked skin.

Giving a low appreciate whistle as he taps his fingers against the wide leather chair which houses him, Oz is clearly impressed with the look if the predatory leer which jumps into his thick features is anything to go by.

“Hmm, looking good, doll. Haven’t seen an outfit like that in a while,” he praises, his right hand falling from the arm of the chair as he adjusts the groin of his slacks. “So, what’s this going to cost me?”

Immediately found out, you bite back the laugh which threatens to break free of your lips as you instead give a quick twirl – showcasing every inch of you in the vague hopes of distracting him from his suspicions.

“You really think I would use an opportunity like this just to get something? Oz…really? Maybe I just wanted to show you a real good time.”

“I’m still not hearing the ask, sweetheart.”

“Well,” you pause to unlatch the hooks of your bra, allowing the thin material to drop to the ground as you stand tall and allow your tits to hang free in the warm air, “if I was looking for something, there’s a pretty little dress in the window of that Italian boutique that Silver St Cloud owns.”

“Cheap as hell, I’m sure,” Oz mutters and his eyes narrow at you with a definite playful edge that let you know he was still somewhat amenable to your wiles. “My wallet isn’t as thick as my gut, doll.”

“Mmm,” you shift forward to place your hands on his knees and gently spread his legs apart, “I’m sure your wallet is big and thick enough to give me what I need.”

“You sure?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d love to touch it and feel it in my hand.”

“How’s your mouth feeling about it?” Flashing his teeth, Oz groans as you turn in place and sit pretty in his lap – making sure to press your ass against his cock as it remained trapped in his slacks.

You tilt your head back at him and sigh as his hands swiftly shift to wrap around your torso and grope at your exposed tits, the feel of his thick fingers grasping at your skin instantly making your cunt ache as you slowly rotate your ass in his lap. While a lapdance wasn’t your area of expertise, Oz was never one to complain about getting a free show and if the bulge of his cock was anything to go by, he certainly was enjoying himself.

Rubbing yourself on his wide frame like a cat in heat, the thrum of the club music which rattles the almost-soundproofed windows helps to guide your movements as you match its beat; swaying, grinding, and running your hands across his body as you work him into a subtle frenzy.

“I’m gonna fuck you silly tonight, doll. You won’t be able to walk straight.”

“Is that right Mr. Cobblepot?” Answering him with a husky tone, you drop into his lap and face him directly – wrapping your hands around his neck and pressing your tits into his chest. His thick thighs provide a solid base for you to grind on and you roll your hips against his groin, the slightly slickened panties sliding across his tented bulge in a wicked tease, “We’ll see.”

You focus on your dancing, loving how solid he feels beneath you with every slow movement that you tease across his body. His suit is a very deep purple, almost black in the limited light, and the texture of it is soft against your skin as you slip off his lap and drop to the floor – turning so that you can kneel between his spread legs.

Catching his zipper between your teeth, you pull it down slowly and enjoy the way that his chest visibly hitches as your mouth dives further to mouth at his cock through the thick material of his boxers.

“You’re a menace, doll,” Oz groans, slipping his back down a notch lower to give you all the access you need.

Smiling up at him, you drop his cock from your mouth and instead slip your hand past the waistband of his boxers – pulling his cock free with a pleased sigh as you run your fingers across the fat length. He was thick, the thickest you’d ever known, and you hum excitedly as you take in the small, pearlescent bead of pre-cum which sits prettily at his slit of his cock. You swipe your thumb across it and admire how it makes his breath stutter.

Openly groaning as you work his painfully-hard cock over with your talented hand, it’s not much of a surprise when you feel his length twitch after only a few strokes and he spills his release across your fingers with a low growl – his hand dropping past your hand to grip your tit roughly as he rides out his orgasm on your willing chest.

His cum is warm against your hand and you don’t stop stroking him until he shifts with the beginnings of overstimulated discomfort and grips your upper arm firmly to pull you back up onto his lap.

“What colour?” Oz pants, his breathing not quite yet caught back up to him.

You settle into his lap, wiping the mess of his release on the upper part of your panties, “Hmm?”

“The dress. What colour was it?”

“Red.”

“Get it, and order another in purple,” lip curling at the corner, Oz spares you a soft wink, “Deep purple. The kind that I like.”

Laying against his chest, you give him a throaty giggle as you link your fingers within his own, admiring how heavily his rings sat against your smaller fingers, “Thanks, Oz. When I get them delivered, you’ll be first in line to get another private showing.”

“Damn right I will.”

[richeeduvie]

・Rules n’ Stuff .・

things abt me!

20, she/her - lives in America. I belong to many fandoms so I thank you for tolerating me during my phases lol. When I'm not posting fic content, it's mostly reblogs from fandoms, horror, and musical theater. I'm always free to a message or ask outside of content, and I hope you always enjoy!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

now taking requests!!

open to: one-shots, headcanons, alphabets, drabbles, and general asks - however! Please specify to what you are requesting (if you are requesting a drabble, hc post, etc.) so I know what you want. If you do not, it's possible I will take it as a general ask or something I have no specifics on)

Some Amazing Fanart done by you guys!

2024 RICHEEDUVIE CAMPAIGN

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

MASTERLIST

- BETTER CALL SAUL CHARACTERS -

-- LALO SALAMANCA --

LALO SALAMANCA MASTERLIST

LALO MASTERLIST (for hc's and drabbles)

ULTIMATE LALO SALAMANCA MASTERLIST (All content here and updating)

LALO SALAMANCA MOODBOARD - @chainsawsangel

Since there is plenty of content, it is most likely that not everything will be tagged. Searching up "Madman!AU" usually brings everything u want to see <3

-- HOWARD, TUCO, MARCO and LEONEL, AND NACHO --

OTHER BCS CHARACTERS MASTERLIST

BETTER CALL SAUL LIST *NON LALO* (for hc's and drabbles)

TUCO SALAMANCA MASTERLIST

TUCO SALAMANCA MASTERLIST 2

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

- Travis Hackett -

• Moonstruck | one-shot

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

- Anton Chigurh -

NSFW ALPHABET

Pregnancy || Headcanons

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

- SUCCESSION CHARACTERS -

-- ROMAN ROY --

ROMAN ROY MASTERLIST 2

ROMAN ROY MASTERLIST

ROMAN ROY MASTERLIST (For HC's and Drabbles)

BONE AND HER HEART: ANGST ONE-SHOT, TW: ED

Since there is plenty of content, it is most likely that not everything will be tagged. Searching up "DogandBone!AU" usually brings everything u want to see <3

-- OTHER SUCCESSION CHARACTERS --

KENDALL ROY MASTERLIST

STEWY HOSSEINI: Make It Right - Blurb

WEDDING BELLS: Part One (Stewy x Reader x Roman)

LOGANWINS!AU MASTERLIST

DOG AND BONE!AU MOODBOARDS DOG AND BONE!AU BASICS

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

- Homelander -

HOMELANDER MASTERLIST

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

- GOMEZ AND MORTICIA -

A Day Robbed of Love (Part One)

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

- AMANDA YOUNG -

AMANDA YOUNG MASTERLIST

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

- AARON HOTCHNER -

Birds of a Feather: FIC DIRECTORY

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

-- OSWALD COBB --

Birdhouse in your soul (Drabble) Feather Trail (Blurb)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Taking requests for

My Mains:

Lalo Salamanca (Better Call Saul)

Roman Roy (Succession)

Second Mains (ATM)

Aaron Hotchner (Criminal Minds)

Amanda Young (Saw)

Oswald Cobb (The Penguin, Reeves!verse)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

Howard Hamlin (Better Call Saul)

Nacho Varga (Better Call Saul)

Tuco Salamanca (Better Call Saul)

Marco and Leonel (Better Call Saul)

Travis Hackett (The Quarry)

Homelander (The Boys)

Michael Myers (Halloween)

RZ! Michael Myers (Halloween Remake)

The Sinclair Brothers (House of Wax)

Hebert West (Re-Animator)

Thomas Hewitt (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

Hans Landa (Inglorious Bastards)

Anton Chigurh (No Country For Old Men)

Norman Bates (Psycho)

Amanda Young (Saw)

Mark Hoffman (Saw)

Gomez and Morticia Addams (Addams Family)

Lestat De Lioncourt (Interview With The Vampire)

The Vampire Armand (Interview With The Vampire)

Louis De Pointe Du Lac (Interview With The Vampire)

Sofia (Gigante) Falcone (The Penguin)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

RULES

- Will do NSFW -

Not willing to:

Underage content

Necrophilla

Beastiality

OC x character

Ageplay

Thank you all to my lovely mutuals and readers whether you are silent on the blog or not!! You all mean so much to my writing and my love for these characters!!

[finniestoncrane]

Farrell!Penguin x GN!Reader, word count: 500 hi i went a little bit insane about the thought of oswald using my face as a cushion so you're welcome for this short little glimpse into my mind lmao 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: rimming, masturbation, ball fondling, kind of milking, angel and beautiful used for reader

Your tongue was outstretched, firm and pointed as you neared him. His flesh trembled as your wam breath got closer, tickling his ample body hair the closer you got. Bent over his own desk, submissive and ready, with his pants around his ankles. It wasn't the position he had seen himself in, if he were being honest. But it was one that intrigued him from the moment you'd suggested it.

"Wait, Ozzie... won't someone come in?"

"Door's locked, sweetheart."

"What if someone calls you? Or interrupts us?"

"What do you want me to do? Write it in my calendar? Do not disturb, I'm getting my asshole devoured by some beautiful, but filthy, angel."

You smiled at his pitched tone. He was getting impatient, and that meant he was excited about what was coming next.

"You could always write it down as a medical appointment. By the time I'm finished, I could tell your doctor everything he needs to know for your next prostate exam."

His grainy laugh was cut short, choked into a gasping moan and a soft, whistling exhale as you buried your face between his cheeks. Your nose nuzzled against him, hands gripping at his hips, fingers sinking into the deep, soft skin. Wriggling your tongue out past your lips, you made sure to take it slow, long laps dragging upwards and flicking back down over the puckered, sensitive hole before making their way back up again.

Desperate for more, Oswald shifted himself backwards, closing in on you, hoping you would take the hint and press your tongue deeper. He wanted you frenzied, starving, taking advantage of this submissive position he had gotten himself into for you.

You took the hint, shaking your head from side to side, running your tongue quickly across his hole, moaning in echo to his groans of gratitude.

Oswald reached behind him, his fingers stroking through your hair before he gripped hard and pushed you forwards, burying you into him. Your tongue was pressed out, firm and pointed, letting him fuck himself on it. You were drooling, salivating at the taste of him, at the way he was so vulnerable and desperate. The hairs were matted on either side of his cheeks, and as you reqached forwards, you could feel the precum leaking from the tip of his cock.

In a bid to have him weak and trembling, you reached your other hand forwards, cupping his balls, gently queazing them as you jerked his cock, tongue still lapping at the sensitive skin around his asshole. He was close now, nearing orgasm as you slobbered over him. This needed to be exceptional, beyond anything he'd felt before. So you sank your tongue down to his perineum, hoping to tingle his g-spot, milking him for every bit of his cum you could.

Oswald's fingers scratched at his desk, body convulsing as you coaxed his orgasm out of him, hoping to have him spilling over your fingers, his pristine image, his dominance, all forgotten as he let himself be ruined by your hands. And your tongue.

[annwrites]

⸻ don't you think i'm pretty, ozzy?

· pairing: oz cobb x fem!reader

· type: one-shot

· summary: you put on a little show for oz in the backseat of his car.

· tags: smut, mutual masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda?)

· word count: 1,054

You're unusually quiet as you climb into the backseat of the car.

Oz notes your silence, but refrains from saying anything right away.

Maybe you're tired.

Maybe you've had a bad day.

Maybe you're just not in a talkative mood right now.

"Where to?" He asks. "Home?"

You hum your response.

The corner of his mouth tugs into a frown.

You're never like this with him. Usually, you're all sweet and bubbly, chattin' his fuckin' ear off.

So, what, then? You gonna start treatin' him like the rest of 'em, too? Just your lousy, good-for-nothin' driver?

He shakes his head lightly, sticks the keys in the ignition, then freezes when he hears a zipper being undone.

His brows furrow and he sits up the least bit straighter, so as to glance in the rearview, and when he does, he slams his head off the fuckin' roof.

You're taking your goddamn dress off.

His eyes flit away, back to the windshield. "Hon, what're you—"

You toss your shoes into the floorboard of the front passenger seat, then your dress into the seat itself.

His eyes widen as he stares at the garment.

You quickly unclasp your bra, then drape it over his shoulder and he jerks in surprise, then takes it in his fist for only a moment before settling it into the seat next to him with a slightly trembling hand.

"Sweetheart—"

You spread your legs and slide your hand between them and moan his name.

"Oz," you sigh.

Jesus fuckin' Christ, have you been drinkin' tonight, or somethin'? Thank fuckin' God the windows are tinted.

He turns the engine over and the car roars to life.

He glances in the rearview again, only to see that you're already watching him with flushed cheeks, hooded lids, and glossy, parted lips.

"I can't stop thinking about you all the time. Couldn't stop thinking about finally trying this."

You drag your fingers through your wet folds before easing them inside of yourself.

"Doll, you... You need to put your dress back on. This ain't—"

You pause for a moment and pretend to pout. "Why? Don't you think I'm pretty, Ozzy?"

You know what you're doin' by callin' him that. You're the only one he lets do it.

You know you've got him wrapped right around that dainty lil' finger, don't you?

He sighs, adjusting his erection over his pants. "Course I do, baby. You know that. It's just—"

You lean back and smile warmly.

"Mm. Feels so good," you whimper.

You begin to slowly finger yourself and you're so wet that he can hear the squelching of your pussy.

You slide your calves along the console between the two front seats and spread your thighs widely, teasing yourself.

"Wish it were you touching me," you say quietly.

"Or inside of me," you add.

His heart is beatin' out of his fuckin' chest and you've got him sweatin' now. Do you want him to keel over in the front seat with his cock strainin' between his legs?

"What's gotten into you tonight?" He asks quietly, with a tone of disbelief.

"Not you," you say with a pout to your voice.

He rolls his eyes, but is unable to fight back a grin at your flirtatious lil' answer.

You pick up speed then, pumping your fingers quickly away inside of yourself, your wetness slipping down your ass and onto the leather seat.

"God, Ozzy," you moan, and your eyes flutter closed.

And he knows he really fuckin' shouldn't, but goddammit he needs to touch you right now.

He slides a hand along your shin and your body jerks at the sudden contact.

"Please," you whine.

He turns slightly, moving his hand higher—as high as he can get it.

He stops at the middle of your thigh and you bite your lip while staring into his dark eyes as you fuck yourself silly while he watches.

"Don't you want to?" You ask breathlessly.

You glance down to his lap, then back to him. "It'll make you feel better. It'll make me feel better."

He's silent for a moment—contemplative.

And then he gives into it, because he ain't thinkin' with the right fuckin' head right now.

Being near you always makes that difficult to do, anyway.

"You want me to, doll? Huh?"

You nod while smiling lustfully. "I do. I do. I do."

He releases you, then unzips his pants and tugs his throbbing cock out and he begins to stroke it while continuing to watch you in the rearview.

He reaches up, quickly adjusts the glass so it's focused directly between those supple fuckin' thighs and he gets to work on himself.

Soon enough, those tinted windows become fogged-up from heated condensation, and the cabin fills with the sound of the both of you moaning and calling each other's names and the wet noises the two of you are making, all from each other's causing.

There's a pounding pulse settled between your legs now and you're so slick with yourself that your hand slips clumsily between your legs, but God you can't stop. You won't. You want him to see. Want him to hear the sounds you make when you orgasm because of him.

He strokes away furiously at his cock, staring into the mirror, glancing to those perfect fuckin' breasts you got, then back to your cunt, and he watches as you lick your lips.

"So...close," you pant.

"Come on, angel. Come for me, baby," he encourages.

"I wanna fuckin' see it. Show me that pretty little pussy. Mine, ain't it?" He asks boldly. "Tell me it's all fuckin' mine."

"Yours," you assure him.

"All yours!" You cry as you reach your peak. "Oz! Ozzy!"

He follows along a moment later, cumming all over his hand, the steering wheel, his fuckin' pants.

You've made a mess of 'im.

As the two of you begin to calm, you giggle quietly and slink down so you can meet his eyes in the mirror.

"Next time I want it to be you," you tell him shyly.

As if now is the time to be fuckin' shy, he thinks with a grin.

"Don't have to ask me twice," he tells you, cleaning himself up before pulling out of the empty parking lot to take you home.

· tagging list: @emilynissangtr