she walked like sin on satin heels.
bubblegum gloss, glitter on her lids, and that tiny pink mini barely covering her ass.
everything about her said trouble, but rafe? he was the kind of boy who begged for it.
she twirled her gum around her finger like it was a cigarette and rafe cameron swore she was made in a lab. a doll. a daydream. a walking heart attack in heels that clicked when she walked toward him, always toward him.
“hi baby,” she purred, soft and sweet like cotton candy melting on the tongue.
he was leaning against his truck, hands shoved in his pockets, but the second she got close, all that fake nonchalance went out the window. she was wearing his varsity jacket over her outfit. god, she looked like a fantasy — his fantasy.
“you wearin’ that just to kill me?” he asked, voice low, gravelly, eyes drinking her in like she was his favorite kind of poison.
“no,” she said, giggling. “but if i did, would you die happy?”
rafe smirked, stepped forward, cupped her cheeks in those big, rough hands and tilted her head back like she was something precious. “i’d die fuckin’ euphoric, princess.”
she gasped all dramatic, plush lips parted like she was in one of those old romance films. “you’re soooo obsessed with me.”
“can you blame me?” he murmured, eyes flicking down to her lips. “look at you. you’re like... the end of the world.”
she blinked up at him, lashes thick and fake and flirty. “i don’t even know what that means.”
he laughed. soft. stupid. completely enchanted. “means you’d be the last thing i’d wanna see before the apocalypse.”
she tilted her head, letting that process with her glossed-up, bubble-brain pout. then she grinned like sunshine. “aww, baby, that’s soooo sweet.”
rafe kissed her like a man possessed. slow and messy and full of hunger. her gum got caught between their tongues, but she didn’t care. she moaned into it, fingers tangled in his golden hair, hips bumping into his, all heat and perfume and pink-sugar chaos.
he pressed her up against the truck door, his jacket falling off her shoulders, but she didn’t fix it. just kept looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky.
“you smell like strawberries,” he muttered, burying his nose in her neck. “you’re gonna ruin me.”
“duh,” she said, giggling. “that’s, like, the plan.”
he groaned, head thudding against her shoulder. “you have no idea what you do to me.”
she bit her lip. “i do. that’s why i wear the little skirts.”
he looked down at her legs — long, smooth, tan, perfect — and nearly whined. she hooked one over his thigh, pouting up at him.
“you gonna take me to the diner or just keep kissing me till i’m dizzy?”
“both,” he said, without a beat. “diner first. dizzy later. maybe both at once.”
the neon motel sign flickered outside like a dirty promise.
room 7 smelled like smoke and lemon cleaner, but rafe couldn’t care less.
not with her sitting on the edge of the bed in her thigh-high socks and panties, reapplying her gloss like they weren’t about to ruin the room.
“you look like a dream,” he muttered, kicking off his boots.
“i am a dream,” she said, smacking her lips. “and you’re so lucky i picked you to have me.”
“i’d thank god if i thought he had anything to do with it,” he murmured, crawling between her legs. “but i know you’re way too good for heaven.”
she giggled, squealed when he grabbed her thighs and dragged her closer.
“careful! i just did my nails.”
“then you better hold onto the headboard, baby,” he growled, yanking her panties down with his teeth, “cause i’m about to make you forget your name.”
she gasped, tossed her head back, eyes all heavy-lidded and pretty while he buried his face between her thighs. one hand in his hair, the other clawing at the sheets, high-pitched moans falling from her lips like a pop song stuck on repeat.
“rafe— ohmygod, rafe—”
he hummed against her, grinning, totally feral. “say it again.”
“rafe,” she whined, “baby, baby, please.”
he pulled back just long enough to look up at her, lips shiny with her gloss and her. “you look so fuckin’ pretty like this. all messy for me.”
she blinked down at him, face flushed, hair a mess, and god, he wanted to take a picture. frame it. tattoo it on his chest.
“come here,” she whispered.
he climbed up over her, hand slipping under her bra, squeezing just to make her gasp. she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like she owned him — which she did.
he slid in slow, thick and deep, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths.
“god,” he hissed, “you’re so— tight— fuck—”
“told you i was a dream,” she whispered, biting his lip. “don’t wake up, baby.”
he laughed. “never could.”
they moved together like it was choreography. like a vintage tape left on repeat — her moaning his name, rafe whispering mine, mine, mine in her ear, her pink nails scratching down his back, her lips parted just enough to look obscene.
when she came, it was loud and pretty and perfect.
when he did, he swore he saw stars.
after, she laid on his chest, tracing hearts on his skin.
“you’re, like, so obsessed with me,” she mumbled, yawning.
“you don’t even know the half of it,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.
and when she fell asleep, lips parted, cheeks pink, hair a mess, rafe just stared at her like she was everything.
because to him?
she was.
and he'd burn the world down just to keep her soft and spoiled and smiling like that.
Description: Ghost retired from the military after soaps death, instead taking up private protection, his latest client? A wealthy tycoon owner who's hired him to protect his only child
The only problem? Said child is spoiled, entitled brat and used to getting away with it all. Well that all changes with the introduction of Ghost into their life, he doesn't do well with disobedience.
MINORS DNI you will be blocked
Warnings/tags: slightly dubious consent, rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, vaginal sex, p in v, unprotected p in v, not safe or sane, fingering, slight daddy kick if you squint, age gap, unprofessional behavior, unprofessional relationships, reader is ftm, reader is curvy/plus size, bodyguard!Ghost, Brat!reader, spoiled!reader, reader is afab, reader has a pussy, reader is a player, unrealistic (99% of porn/smut is).
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A/n: first post and first time writing smut! Lemme know how I did, or not. This has been sitting in my head for a while, I just finally got it out of head and onto paper. Enjoy. I apologize if its not the best writing, again it's my very first time writing smut, tusualty write other shit and it tends to be way better then this since thats what I'm used too. If you see spelling mistakes, no you don’t:)
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Wc: 4000+
It's been two weeks since you were introduced to Simon Riley, aka: Ghost, your new bodyguard. Much to your annoyance, you hadn't asked for a bodyguard let alone did you need one, but you're father had insisted, said it was for your benefit. It felt more like a punishment for the weeks before of backtalk and tipsy scandals ending up in the tabloids. Ones that could effect your father's reputation and the company's.
And that just wouldn't do would it? Not if he wanted to stay at the top of industry. Before he'd pay reporters off, threatening legal action, but he was growing sick of your repeated behavior, never learning. Eventually there'd be a reporter stupid enough— or brave enough, to refuse a bribe and push out a story.
Thus, Ghost. First place winner for pain in your ass!
He was big, intimidating and all muscle covered in a layer of fat, taller then tall the bastard. He felt more like a handler or a nanny a role you have experience with from when you were a child. But ten times worse, he's so much more commanding.
Ghost barks orders and expects you to follow them blindly, getting obviously agitated when you continue to blatantly ignore them. You watch as his jaw ticks to the side and a vein in his neck pops out every time you do so.
Pressure between the two of you has built over the last two weeks, neither of you particularly thrilled with the others existence and the disruptions in routine it causes. Last weekend he kept you from going out as you normally do to bar hop with friends and act drunker then you are, flirting shamelessly with guys only to leave them high and dry in the dumps.
Tonight the tension is building to a head, its friday night and you're looking to get back on routine to hang out with you're friends, one of them holding a party.
The only thing stopping you? Ghost.
He stands in front of the penthouse's elevator, preventing you from getting to it.
You stand almost toe to toe with him, arms petulantly crossed over your chest and glaring daggers at him, you have to raise to your tip toes to even begin to be somewhat eye level with him. Even in your thick soled boots.
Ghost stands much the same, his own arms crossed over his chest, feet shoulder width apart, he's like a brick wall, talking to him isn't much different.
"Move," you say after a moment when he doesn't immediately do so.
"No.'" He says, unimpressed with your tone.
You scowl further, and if looks could kill yours would be damn well trying.
"No? Excuse me?" Annoyance leaks into your voice.
"I'm going to be late. Now Move." You demand, poking a finger into his chest.
A brow raises under the skull print mask he insists on wearing all the time, like a challenge as he stares down at you.
"You'll be more then late, you're not going." He replies, not budging.
"You already kept me from going out last week, I humored you then, it won't be happening again." You're not backing down either, everyone who's someone will be at this party, and you're someone. You have to be there.
"You're a bodyguard, not my father or boss or anyone with authority over me, you're supposed to follow me around like an obedient dog. Thats you're job." You remind him, eyes narrowed, "You're an employee, my employee."
Ghost laughs a dry laugh, like he finds your words humorous, your annoyance grows jaw clenching as he doesn't take you serious.
"I'm your fathers employee." He Clarifies, "He has me under strict orders to keep you out of trouble and out of the press."
"and I'm much more inclined to listen to orders from the person who writes my paychecks then the spoiled brat in front of me." You're frustration only grows at his words, your jaw clenching.
Ghosts eyes runs over outfit, scrutinizing the pieces of fabric that can barely be considered clothes.
"And a party where you dress like— that, screams trouble."
You're eyes leave his covered face for the first time in minutes, looking down to you're own outfit. Mesh long sleeved top with rhinestones sewn where the mesh crosses over it self and shorts small as sin, knee high boots.
To you, its a outfit like you were normally, something fitting to show off, usual attire for when you're bar hopping and playing people. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"There's nothing wrong with my clothes, everyone there will be dressed similarly." You insist, and Ghosts brow raises again. In his eyes your dressed for a strip club or a juvenile college party, not one held by heirs to million if not billion dollar companies.
And while you're old to be finishing college you never went and don't have to, you're life is secured for well, the rest of it. You'll be given a position at your father's company at his command, something high up but easy, barely could be considered work, and when he retairs ownership will fall to you. Something you've been trained for since birth.
Though you don't act like it, you know how to run a business, could build one from the ground up if so had to, which you never will. Ghost suspects the way you act is your escape before you're forced into a role you never asked for but can't refuse.
"Don't matter, you're not going, sweetheart." He affirms, the petname mocking, and some how you're glare gets icy-er then it already was, Ghost wouldn't be surprised if icicles started to form on your eyelashes from the intensity. He doesn't falter.
"Now go change out of those things you call clothes." Ghost orders, not leaving much room for argument.
Your scowl deepens, locking eyes with him in a staring contest, narrowed icy eyes boring into his, again standing you're ground. Not ready to give in, but you also know there's little chance you'll win against an ex-military man whos more then twice your size. You're not delusional.
He doesn't back down either, keeping up the brick wall act.
Eventually something has to give, and it won't be him. You make a noise bordering on a frustrated growl.
"Fine." You grab the hem of your mesh shirt, pulling it up and over your head, you throw it at Ghost and it lands over his face as you walk away.
He pulls it off of his face, watching your back almost amusededly as you stalk into the living room and dramatically flop on the luxurious couch, not at all doing what he told you to do and going to change.
Ghost makes his own way over to the couch, he walks around the back of it, looking at you laying stomach first on said couch.
He put you're discarded shirt on the arm of the couch before squatting down to be eye level with you, thick thighs straining against the material of his tactical cargo's in the position.
"Stop yer poutin'." He says gruffly, and you turn you head slightly from where its buried in the couch cushions to look at him, one eye visible.
When you simply turn your head the opposite direction after a moment Ghost huffs irritatedly.
He stands up and grabs your ankle, pulling it to spin you slightly, forcing you to sit up and look at him.
"I told ya' to change."
"And I don't want to."
He clenchens his jaw, crossing his arms over his chest, corded muscles in his arms pulling taught and pushing out.
"Don't care, I told ya' to do something, so yer gonna do it or I'll do it for ya', sweetheart."
Your glare doubles in force, like you're trying to explode him with you're mind or erase him from existence.
He gives you five seconds to cooperate before he's leaning down faster then you can register and wrapping an arm around you middle, hauling you up and over his shoulder with minimal effort.
"Hey!" You protest, smaking a hand against his back, and kicking your legs. He moves his fore arm to the back of your thighs to keep you from gaining enough leverage to put any actual force behind your squirming legs.
"I warned ya." Is all he says in response, walking you up the stairs, through your room and into the walk-in closet.
He sets you down on your feet in the middle of the racks of clothes and you have a disgruntled look plastered on your face when he meets you're eye once again.
"Last chance, change or I'll change for ya'." He repeats, blocking the way back out of the closet.
You give in, or at least it appears you do as your hands go to the button of your shorts, undoing it and pulling the zipper down.
You begin to push the shorts off of your hips and down your legs, right in front of him, immediately his eyes raise to the ceiling, and his jaw ticks to the side for what has to be at least the fifth time tonight.
"Yer walking a very thin line." He warns, this isn't the first time you've pulled something like this, malicious compliance. He's unsurprised by your brazen behavior used to it, you have a complete lack of shame as you strip in front of him.
"What? Can't handle seeing a naked body, are you a prude or something?" You mock, continuing to strip, flinging the shorts off to the side and then beginning to unzip your knee high boots.
"Or maybe its that if you see me you're carefully maintained control will snap and you'll give in and be wrapped around my little finger trying to get more then a look." He takes a deep breath at your words and you can see as he closes his eyes like he's praying to whatever god in the sky to give him patience and strength.
"Yer getting on my last nerve, Doll." He says, hands curling into fists at his sides as he continues at stare at the ceiling like its the one in the Sistine Chapel.
you kick the boots of to the side to join the shorts, shrugging innocently even though he can't see it, and even if he saw it he knows better, you know exactly what you're doing.
"Maybe you're just weak minded." You throw back and watch in satisfaction as his eyes snap back to your form, obviously having hit that last nerve somewhere there. You assume it has to do with the fact you called him, an ex-military man, 'weak,' mind or otherwise.
"What?" You ask like you don't know what just happened, like you're not pushing his buttons on purpose and trying to get him to break. You put your weight into one hip, popping it pop to one side, still completely nude.
His gaze sweeps over you, taking in the visable curves of your body, your soft hips and pudgy stomach, thick cushy thighs. In his eyes burns a dark fire, you can't tell if it more of a desire to put you ‘in your place’ or a desire for you. You don't think it matters as long as he's falling into your trap.
"You little—" he hisses out between clenched teeth, muscles straining in his arms.
"Whats wrong? Cat got your tongue?" You tease, smirking victoriously at what you perceive to be a win in your favor in what has been a two week long battle.
You startle slightly when he grabs your wrist, pulling you directly in front of him as he stares down at you, the fire in his eyes burning brightly. You lick your lips in apprehension, nerves lighting up with the look in his eyes.
"Do I need to teach ya' how to behave, Brat?" He almost growls out, and heat swirls in your body settling in your navel, its not like you haven't traced over his body with your eyes appreciatingly before, not like you haven't had more then a few dreams where he's a starring in it and you wake up with damp thighs.
You pull slightly at where he holds your one wrist above your head, testing his grip which he only tightens when you do, narrowing his eyes at you more.
"I think I do, since ya' obviously don't know how to behave yourself when left to yer own devices, no one must've taught you."
He pulls one of your scarves off of its hanger with his free hand.
"What're you—"
He's then grabbing your other wrist and joining it to the first, using the scarf to tie them together above your head.
Ghost holds your wrists in one hand after he's tied them together, his now free hand grabbing your face.
"Do you want me to stop?" He asks, leaning into speak into your ear, face next to yours.
shake your head quickly, you can feel the heat in your stomach growing already.
"Use yer words, I know ya' know how." Ghost orders.
"No." You say shyly, redness growing on your cheeks, isn't exactly how you intended this to go, but, you could work with it.
"No what?"
"No, don't stop." You answer, looking away from his face, only playing up your flusteredness a bit.
"That's what I thought." He chuckles, and color in your cheeks darkens, feeling a crumb of shame finally, now that you're not fully in control of the situation like you had been. Or least thats what you thought, maybe you never were.
"Hey—" Faster then you know what's happening you're back on his shoulder, his hand resting against the back of your now bare thighs.
He walks out of the in closet and into the main area of your room, he tosses you off of his shoulder and onto your four poster plush bed unceremoniously.
You sit try to sit up on the covers but he just pushes you to lay back again with a look.
"Did I say ya' could sit up?" He says, wrapping a hand around your leg pulling you towards the edge of the bed, calfs now hanging over the side.
Ghost leans over you, the hand that grabbed your leg traveling up your leg to rest between where your thigh meets your pelvis in the dip of fat there, his other hand goes back to your wrists, pinning them above your head against the bed to make sure you can't move them.
"Yer awfully quiet now, Cat got yer tongue?" He mocks repeating your earlier words, watching as you stare up at him, "If i knew all it bloody took to shut ya' up was to tie yer wrists and pin ya' to a bed I woulda done it a whole lot sooner."
He uses the hand resting on your thigh to spread them apart, raising a brow at what he finds.
"Oh? Whats this then?" He teases meanly, staring at the slick that's started to gather at you're crotch, when you try to close your legs again he pinches the fat of your thighs, forcing them back open.
"None of that." He tells you, a underlying warning in the words. He would not be hunoring disobedience from you any longer.
Ghost runs a finger through your folds, gathering slick on it, you gasp and squirm a bit when he brushes over the bundle of nerves at the top of your crotch.
"You were getting off on pissing me off weren't ya'?" He asks, and you shake your head. Lair.
He scoffs, obviously not believing it, he continues to run his fingers through your pussy, only brushing lightly over where you want him to touch most.
"Don't lie, Brat." He says "You like making me mad, you like pushing my buttons."
He doesn't expect a response, watching as you squirm when he finally begins to rub circles over that bundle of nerves. He lets go of your tied wrists to push down on your hips to stop most of your squirming.
You swallow gasps when he rubs just right, sending sparks up your spine, you bring your tied together hands to mouth, biting into the meat of your plam to muffle whimpers.
Ghost continues to circle your clit, building up pressure in your stomach, he watches as the muscles in your legs pull taunt and your pussy pulses around nothing.
"Ghost—" You whine in your hand, and he inserts two Fingers into your hole in response, thumb continuing to rub over your clit while his middle and pointer finger prod around inside.
"Close already?" He huffs amused, and he can tell he found the right spot when his fingers curl and you whine.
"Come on then boy. Cum around my fingers." Ghost continues to curl his fingers into the spot in side you, building you up to the edge faster combined with his thumb on your clit.
Your legs shake and your eyes slam closed when you finally tople over the edge and come, pussy convulsing around his fingers.
He stops rubbing the bundle of nerves but doesn't pull his fingers out, now scissoring them inside you, stretching you out.
"Good boy." He coo's meanly, pushing down harder when you try to pull away from his hand when it starts to get overstimulating.
"Behave for me, Doll." He reminds, and you whimper into where you bite into your plam.
He spends another minute stretching you out before removes his fingers and you gasp, unable to decide if the loss is better or worse then the edge of overstim he was working you towards.
He looks you dead in the eyes as he lifts up the bottom part of his mask making you watch as he licks his fingers clean of your slick, your blush spreads from your cheeks to your collarbones and ears.
Ghost stands up fully after, hands going to his belt and pant zipper, he unbuckles his belt and pulls it from its pant loops in smooth motion, you sit up slightly to watch as he undoes the button on his tactile cargo's and unzips them.
You see as he reaches his hand into his boxers, pushing them and his pants down just enough to free his cock, already chubbed up.
It's thick and long, a happy trail leading to it that disappears under his shirt, he does give you much time to look before he's wrapping his hands around your legs again, pulling you right up to the edge of the bed.
He grabs a throw pillow that must have fallen off of your bed earliler in the day from the floor, forcefully lifting your hips and stuffing it under them to prop your hips up at angle so their level with him.
"Be a good boy and take it all." He murmur's giving his cock a few strokes with his hand, having collected some of your slick and spreading it over it.
"Deep breath, Baby." Is all the warning you get before he's notching his dick at your pussy and starting to push in. He watches as your slick walls suck him in easily.
You mewl when he's fully inside you and he chuckles, giving an experimental thrust.
"All it takes to make ya' behave is a good fucking isn't it? Just need some attention, hm?" He teases, voice mean as he begins to rut into you shallowly, one hand grabbing your tied wrists again, pinning them back above your head so you cant bite you palm to muffle yourself, so he can hear your sounds.
You try to swallow whines and moans, but he only starts to thrust deeper and harder, drawing them out of you.
"Wanna hear ya' sing for me, Doll." Ghost says, beginning to pant softly.
"G-Ghost—" you manage out between sounds, voice breathy.
"Just need a big man to fuck some manners into ya'?"
You nod dumbly, thoughts already in the process of melting into mush in your head, any plan you had now gone.
His free hand goes back to your clit, beginning to circle it again, you moan in response, and he laughs at you again.
"Look at ya', the little Brat melting away into the good Doll I knew ya' could be with just some attention." He murmurs, leaning over you to talk into your ear, before he begins to kiss at your neck.
"Bet ya' were all pent up, none of the little boys you play at the bar do it for ya' do they?" He says into your skin, "Need a real man to put ya' in yer place."
You only whine in response, the pressure in your core beginning to build a second time as he rams his length into that spongy spot inside you that he found earlier, making your toes curl.
He continues to whisper words into your ear, but as he continues to pound into you and you brain continues to melt into slop at the pleasure all the words blur to together, becoming one string of sounds that vaguely sounds like praise for being good and listening.
"All you need is someone to take control, hm? Let you sit back and look pretty, someone to make the big decisions so you can be dumb for once? Tired of being smart?" He mumbles, sucking marks into your neck between words and panting breathes, even though he knows you're drowning in to mush pleasure to really hear him.
Ghost feels as the muscles in your thighs begin to tighten up again, pussy fluttering around softly. His fingers speed up on your clit.
"Gonna cum on my cock Boy? C'mon, sweetheart, cum all over my dick." He encourages, cooing at you once again as he does, honing in on that spongy spot, making sure to hit it every time he thrusts in.
"Si-Simon," you moan when the coil snaps and for the second time tonight waves of euphoria wash over you, he fucks you all the way through it, only slowing down to help you ride it out.
"Good job, Doll," he kisses your cheek, before he's pulling out, only to flip you over onto your stomach, forcing your knees under you to hold you up and pushing between your shoulders blades to create a pretty arch in your back.
He pushes back in slowly and you whine high and long, trying to pull away from him to which he chuckles darkly and grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him.
Like this he reaches so much deeper into you, veins in his cock dragging against what has quickly become his favorite spot within you and his tip kisses your cervix.
Ghost begins to thrust again, pulling out almost all the way just to slam right back in, cause you to mewl, tears gathering in your eyes as he quickly works you into overstim.
"Poor baby," He coos mockingly at you, not letting up at all.
Hot tears run down your cheeks and onto your bed sheets, leaving a damp spot on them as he sets a deep and hard pace, working you up to the edge of a third high quickly from it and the overstim.
"Let me feel you cum around my cock again sweet heart, c'mon." He snakes his hand around your waist, fingers immediately finding your sensitive and abused clit and starting to circle it again.
Your quickly thrown off the edge again, crying out as you squeeze around his cock agian, and again he keeps fucking you through it, but instead of slowing down this time he speeds up, he holds you in place when you squirm and try to crawl away from where he spears you on his dick, he only pulls you back against his hips.
He chases his own high, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.
Eventually his hips still and he lays his weight over you, cock twitching inside you as he cums himself filling you up with his warm seed.
You whine when you don't feel him even begin to soften inside you, eyes wet and voice starting to go raw. He laughs before he's back at it again, picking up where he left off.
He places a kiss between your shoulder blades with a promise of 'Just one more lovie,' which you shake your head at, it only pulls another dark laugh from him.
"Use your words if you want me to stop baby." He tells you, and you shake your head again, its all to much, but you don't want him to stop either.
Lair, thats what he is, he brings you over the edge a fourth time but doesn't stop, going for a fifth and sixth with more empty promises of 'last time, only one more, Doll.'
As you're walking through the hallway, he appears out of nowhere. (Nowhere being the place he stakes out at everyday hpoing to watch you pass by-).
He skips over to you and calls out, "Hey, you gonna let me take you out tonight?" he says with a smirk. You don't even have to look; you instantly recognize who it is just from his cadence. "Not today, Marty," you deadpan, shaking your head, continuing to walk. "Why not?" he huffed. You finally turn your gaze at him as if that's says it all, which- it usually would, but this is Marty.
"Why not?" he quizzes, "Because I said so," you say, speed walking past him. He stares at your backside for a moment before remembering he's in public. He's quick to catch up to you, "Because you said so? Is that how youre gonna talk to our kids? I was thinking we're more Montessori-I've read that you're not supposed to say that to developing minds because it shapes them into people who never question authority."
You pause abruptly for a moment to close your eyes and inhale... this is what you don't like about Marty. He's smart. And well read. And he seems like he knows more about everything than any other guy on campus, but at the end of the day, you remember he is, in fact, a guy.
"So, are you considering letting me take you out to dinner? Because if you're thinking about where to go, I've already planned the best place in the city." He smiles at you. You think he looks like a rat. Smart and cunning. Sometimes a little cute-
You open youre eyes, "No Marty, Goodbye-" you say, continuing on your stroll.
Why stop at just a yandere batfamily? Why not all of Gotham?
Like, imagine Bane kidnapping you, calling you his "firefly" or whatever because you're a fleeting light in the darkness or something, and you're more guarded than the actual thing he stole.
And despite that, Poison Ivy manages to nab you, her "little rose", while Bane is busy dealing with Batman. She takes you back to her apartment, where you greet the plants you recognize and introduce yourself to the new ones (There aren't many, you were here 3 months ago).
At some point you take a breath of fresh air through an open window, and Scarecrow grabs you, taking you to his lair, into a room which is also pumped with a special strain of fear gas that makes you cling to him for safety.
And then, shock of all shocks, the one and only, motherfucking Joker snatches you from the lair, leaving behind a dummy for Scarecrow to find. Unlike the others, Joker's obsession is in the fact that everyone else is obsessed with you. He finds it hysterical how one person can have all of Gotham in a spin!
Eventually, the Batfam grabs Reader from the Joker, since he's not actually obsessed so he has them the least guarded, maybe a short conversation with Batman, but even Joker knows he's in water too hot to joke about severe injuries, especially since he doesn't know if Red Hood is nearby.
Batman might not kill, but he cannot guarantee that anyone else wouldn't if he killed their favorite person, and he does not have the influence where he could get away with that.
You get returned to your nice cage room in the manor, where the Batfamily scolds you yet again for another failed escape attempt trip outside getting you shipped around Gotham for weeks!
At this point, you're pretty sure you not only can't leave, but also any attempts at a normal life are pointless. You mostly do this because humans are animals and animals need enrichment, and no, the cycle of games/quality time they're giving you are not a suitable replacement for touching grass and seeing new faces.
Even the brief moments of time between kidnappings, the short moments of normalcy that the other villains, the other heroes and vigilantes give you, are a welcome change of pace.
Bonus points if it's literally everyone in neighboring cities/Justice League, so Superman finds you and you're just like "Well shit" because now you're taken to his house, maybe his parents' farm, and you're kept there until someone catches on that Clark has you.
Also if you tack this onto Spoiled!Reader, this becomes infinitely funnier because In my mind I'm treating that AU as 90% a crack/lighthearted fic, and another thing is I think of them as being ~12 sometimes, so it's the entirety of Gotham fighting over a middle schooler.
If it's an adult Reader, it's more of a "This is fine" as they are carted from villain to villain to vigilante to hero because their family literally has a fan club for them, so their perception of what is "normal" levels of interest is severely skewed.
If you want to go for the Neglected!Reader, then it would be really interesting for them to try and figure out where is a good level of "interested in your hobbies", and doubts whether they're so uncomfortable because they're actually too invested in their day to day life, or if it's because they were neglected for so long that any interest feels overwhelming.
Btw all asks about Spoiled!Reader and this Reader are welcome!
The black Amex felt heavy in your hand, almost dangerous. Sebastian had pressed it into your palm that morning with a casual kiss to your cheek, a muttered “Just don’t bankrupt me, okay?” Before he disappeared into a meeting. You’d promised not to go wild. You even meant it.
…until you saw the boots. And the bag. And, well, that little necklace practically whispered your name.
By the time Sebastian came to pick you up, you had a few too many shopping bags dangling off your arms. He leaned against the car, sunglasses sliding down his nose, that smirk spreading slow and infuriating.
“Sweetheart,” he drawled, eyeing the pile of glossy bags, “did you buy the store?”
You jutted your chin out, defensive. “I was—being responsible!”
“Responsible?” He plucked a receipt out of the top of one bag, eyebrows climbing as he read the total. “Oh yeah, this screams responsible.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks. You shoved your hand into your purse, fishing out your own card. “Fine. I’ll pay you back. I’ll just—”
But before you could even hand it to the cashier, Sebastian’s larger hand swatted yours gently, pushing your card right back down.
“Uh-uh,” he murmured, eyes glinting as he leaned closer, his voice a velvet threat of a tease. “Don’t you dare. You think I’m gonna let my girl stand here and pay after I gave you my card? Absolutely not.”
“Seb—”
“Nope.” He cut you off with a kiss to your forehead, then handed his card back to the cashier without missing a beat. “Ring it up. All of it.”
You stared at him, half embarrassed, half swooning. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re spoiled,” he shot back, grin tugging at his mouth as he grabbed the bags from your hands. “Which is exactly how I like you. Now get in the car before you decide you need another pair of boots.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart was warm, melting. He might tease you endlessly, but the truth was clear in the way he carried every bag without complaint, the way he looked at you like you were worth every swipe of his card and then some.
By the time you got home, Sebastian had carried in every single bag, muttering dramatically the whole way.
“I don’t know how my bank account’s still breathing.”
“You promised not to go wild.”
“Babe, this is… what is this? Did you buy another suitcase just to hold the stuff you bought?”
You threw a throw pillow at him, which he dodged with annoyingly good reflexes. “Stop being so dramatic. I didn’t even buy that much.”
He dropped the mountain of bags onto the couch, hands on his hips, giving you the kind of look that made your stomach flip. Mischief gleamed in his eyes.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he said slowly, peeling off his jacket, “you’re gonna make this worth my while.”
Suspicion prickled through you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He flopped onto the couch, spreading his arms across the backrest like a king on his throne. “Fashion show. Every single thing you bought today—you’re modeling it for me.”
Your mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” His grin said absolutely not. He reached over, grabbed one of the bags, and tossed it toward you. “C’mon. First outfit. Go.”
You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “You’re impossible.”
But ten minutes later, you were stepping out of the bedroom in the first outfit—a silky dress that hugged you in all the right places. Sebastian’s whistle cut through the room.
You rolled your eyes but spun anyway, cheeks heating.
“Mhm. Definitely keeping that one,” he murmured, voice low now, hungry. “Next.”
And so it went—outfit after outfit, his commentary swinging between sarcastic—
“Did you raid Cher’s closet with this one?—to reverent—“Baby, that should be illegal. You’re too gorgeous.”
When you stepped out in the last thing—a cozy oversized sweater that barely covered your thighs—his teasing stopped dead. He just stared, tongue darting across his bottom lip, jaw working like he was trying to keep himself in check.
“Seb?” you asked softly, fidgeting with the hem.
He exhaled a shaky laugh, rising from the couch in a slow prowl until he was right in front of you. One finger slid beneath the edge of the sweater, tracing your thigh.
“This one,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours. “This is my favorite. Because it looks like you’re wearing nothing underneath.”
Your breath caught. “I might not be.”
That wicked grin spread over his face, and suddenly you were in his arms, sweater and all, bags forgotten, fashion show over.
“Guess I paid for more than just clothes today,” he said against your neck, voice husky. “I paid for the privilege of watching you look this good—and the privilege of tearing it all off later.”
Rich!Megumi, who's head over heels for you, waiting impatiently around the store, as stiff as a stature as his eyes occasionally flit over the clock. But he wouldn't dare to rush your shopping time.
Rich!Megumi, who doesn't even flinch at the large amount of zeroes that slip out of the cashier's mouth, already pulling out his card to swipe it.
Rich!Megumi, who pays for anything and everything for you, despite wanting to go home already. Hating shopping, down on his knees for you.
Rich!Megumi, who has you bent over on the luxury coffee table within his empty mansion, everything scattered off of the table and long forgotten as he ruts his cock into your pretty cunt.
Rich!Megumi, who makes you tell him everything you want to get on your next shopping spree.
Rich!Megumi, who relishes in the way your walls flutter around his dick when he says he'll buy you the entire world.
Rich!Megumi, who holds your hand, raising it up so he can admire your newly done nails after you asked ever so weakly if he liked them.
Hi babes! So I’m the queen of liking to have everything in one place so here you’ll find everything related to the paring of Eddie and his Princess aka spoiled Reader💖
Summary: Eddie Munson loves doing anything and everything for you…yes he will even wash your hair and put your socks and shoes on for you because he loves taking care of you. Everyone thinks you’re spoiled…but Eddie just thinks you’re his Princess.
A/N: In this series Eddie is VERY protective so some texts and conversations will mention or infer violence✨
ran haitani who doesn’t even try to hide the fact that hes staring at you while being behind the wheel of his bugatti la voiture noire.
ran haitani whose eyes glance from the street infront of his eyes to you. he practically undress you with them anytime theres a red light as his left hand grips the steering wheel whilst his right hand caresses your plush thighs.
y/n who has to constantly remind ran to focus on the road as he keeps losing focus due to y/n quite literally seducing him without even knowing it.
y/n who constantly runs up ran’s bank card almost every day without a care in the world ? why should she care ? her boyfriend is ran haitani for fucks sake !!
y/n who puts her pretty feet painted white on ran’s dashboard as she mindlessly scrolls on instagram.
“rannn, do you think this would look good on me ?” you ask as you show the older haitani the most basic dress ever with a big smile plastered over your face.
“baby..that dress is so plain and simple for $2000.” he chuckles as he eyes the short black wool and silk dior dress on your cracked iphone 14 pro max. “and when did you crack your phone love ? i just bought it two months ago.”
you huff and pout as you lean back into the black seat of his luxury car. “so you’re saying it’d be ugly on me ?” you roll your eyes and continue, “and its the screen protector idiot.”
“i didnt say that love, anything looks good on you. i just dont think its worth that price.” ran mutters.
“whatever ran, im still going to buy it” you roll your eyes again while putting the dress in your cart, along with the DIOR ADDICT LIP GLOW OIL and some simple red bottom heels to match the dress.
ran haitani who would definitely buy his girlfriend skims okay ?
you never have any luck with skims drops, as if anyone ever does. so you find yourself constantly complaining to ran about how what you want is never in stock or everything being sold out before you can even get to it. honestly, you weren’t TELLING ran to buy you skims, you were just complaining about the unfortunate situation thats been happening for months and months with each drop. so when you and ran haitani left another bonten meeting at a bonten owned club, he told you about how he had a surprise awaiting you at your shared penthouse.
a series of “rannnn, what is it ? will you tell me please ?” flooded his ears during the car ride home that he simply smiled and answered with a simple “you’ll see.”
uppon arrival you see two large delivery boxes sitting upon the doorstep and you question what it could be. ran carries them inside with ease. ran removes his shoes after taking the boxes inside and tells you to sit infront of him and open the packages. you look at him with a puzzled face but nonetheless, you open the first box.
anticipation kills you as you remove the loads of packing peanuts and tissue to finally see a clear bag that says “SKIMS” on it and you almost pass out.
“babeee” you look at him with puppydog eyes “did you really ? is all of this for me” you look at him as hes pouring some tequila into a clear glass with a cigarette between his lips. he looks at you, winks, and tells you to try everything on for him. of course, the first set you try on for him is the “fits everybody micro thong” and the “fits everybody micro triangle barlette.”
hi pookies, first post ig :3 this is the first “fanfic” i’ve written ig (?) lmk how i did and should i write a nsfw part 2 ? idk !! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶
