Hey Alfred fans -- I got us something and why is there no one talking about it đ

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@redlektor
Hey Alfred fans -- I got us something and why is there no one talking about it đ
Remarkably Bright Creatures Trailer
Tova is an elderly widow who cleans the local aquarium at night. She befriends a giant octopus named Marcellus. Meanwhile, Cameron has recently come to town and is looking for family. "Unbeknownst to Tova, Marcellus is on a mission to solve a mystery that will heal the widowâs heart and lead her to a life-changing discovery." (Netflix)
Remarkably Bright Creatures, based on the novel by Shelby Van Pelt, stars Sally Field (Tova), Lewis Pullman (Cameron), and Alfred Molina (voice of Marcellus). The film is directed by Olivia Newman from a screenplay by John Whittington and Newman.
Remarkably Bright Creatures streams on Netflix on May 8, 2026.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
My husband and his ties :) tie me up BABYYYYYYYYY
Rise or fallđŞś
Remember Kosperry, the person who did this amazing art? Now they have an equally amazing animation!
NWH vs 2004: Who's your favorite child?
I forgot about Carl Veisor. Oh my. Oh my my my.
Fuck he is so hot when it looks like heâs covered in blood
All I Want (reader/Molina!Penguin)
I put it to a vote on several discords as to what I'd write as a holiday fill. Penguin/Reader was the winner! Heads up: this fill is NSFW and uses the trope of sex pollen in a dubcon context (it doesn't stay dubcon for long
Thank you to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on Discord.
The Christmas tree in Gotham City Center is many things; a symbol of holiday cheer, a photo opportunity, the centerpiece of every big ticket celebration from now until New Years Day.Â
Itâs also fucking up your patrol. Itâs so big that even from your vantage point on the Tribune building, large portions of downtown are blocked from view.Â
Ah well, if anyone tries anything on or around the tree, itâll be a big enough to-do that Batman will deal with it. No one tries to blow up the city center as a means of luring the Shrike into a trap, that much you know.Â
You tap the side of your glove, bringing up your security alert map. Youâve got every big target on it, as well as locations that attract repeat villain attention for random reasons (proximity to hideouts, favorite restaurants, etc). With the tree-lighting in progress, odds are high someone will pull a robbery, banking on the Bat and his friends being too busy to intervene.Â
Two minutes later, an alert flashes for the Gotham History Museum.Â
You summon your wings as you step into the air.Â
Okay, so technically theyâre a physical manifestation of your ability to manipulate gravity, but it took you months to perfect the shape to mimic a raptors. Youâll call them whatever you fucking please.Â
What most villains, and a lot of heroes, forget is that most museums put windows in their bathrooms to avoid that grim public transportation hub vibe. Which makes entering without tipping off an adversary easier than, say, crashing through a skylight. So you slip in, emerging in the east wing of the museum with no one the wiser.Â
You make it to the âgems of the medieval worldâ exhibit be you pick up any movement; improved vision is one of the upsides of your âaccident.â
Staying in the shadows, you take in the banners outside the exhibit. The ones announcing the presence of the world-famous âPeacock Diamond.â
Wait, PeacockâŚ
âSeriously, Penguin?â You mutter.Â
âDeeply so, my dear.â
You see him in the doorway just as ropes pop from the walls to ensnare you. The snap of several others in the distance tells you he was determined to trap you.Â
âYouâre not one to go rushing in. I figure this will teach you a valuable lesson in not skulking about.â He must have goons with him; heâs in his long coat and fedora as well as his tux. He never does that if he expects to do his own fighting.
âHowâd you know itâd be me?â
âBecause you can never resist a visit with me.â He smiles at you, teeth the tiniest bit sharp.
âBecause you keep picking heist locations in areas you know I patrol.â You bat your lashes, âalmost like you want a beautiful woman with anger issues to kick your ass. You know you can just pay people for that, right?â
âSuch crass language.â He saunters toward you, eyeing you up from your boots to your mask, âand last time it was your behind that took the brunt of an attack.â
âReal polite way of saying you hit me with that fucking umbrella several times.â
He tuts, stroking your cheek as you glare at him, âYou deserved it for the bruises you left on my stomach with theseâ the umbrella draws down your leg and taps your boot.Â
âUh boss, weâre-â the newest henchman stops when he sees the two of you, âdo you need us to get her out of here? Riverâs right there-â
âJust get the car started, uncultured clod.â He snarls, watching the man like a hawk until heâs scurried out of sight. Then he turns back to you with a smile that means mischief, not business, âwhy put yourself in the path of such brutes, hm? Why not retire while youâve still got a life to live-â
âNot this again-â
He bends down, nose nearly brushing yours. You heard him refer to it as âa fine, Roman noseâ once. Pompous bastard.Â
âWhy not let a refined and worthy bird build you a nest? I could forgive all youâve subjected me to if youâd let me make you sing-â
Rather than let him notice you blushing, you dart your head forward and bite the end of his nose. His affronted yelp of pain is worth taking the umbrella to the ribs and hearing his voice go cold as he wishes you a good night and tells you the cleaning crew should come in ten hours to untie.Â
Once heâs out of view, you trigger the claws on your gloves, making short work of the rope. Did he really think this would hold you?
You roll your shoulders and crack your neck; you hope he took the limo. Itâll be fun to drop through that roof to get the diamond back.Â
â------------------------------------------------------------------------
The best part of working in the Gotham Zoo is that the route from the staff gate takes you right past the elephant pen. And thereâs nothing cuter at 8:30 on Thursday than a baby elephant trying to make sense of new concepts like ârainâ and âthe frog that hopped in through the fence.â
Reaching your desk, you find a little box, wrapped in black and white paper. Your heart moves through an interpretive dance youâve given up on understanding as you open it.Â
A dainty brooch in the shape of a barn owl is waiting for you, along with a note that simply reads, âdinner and a show tonight?â
Technically, not even staff should wander the exhibits this late. But youâve stayed at work until ten pm to finish this speech that the zoo director wants to give to the funders. That earns you some time watching your favorite residents.Â
âHello, my beauties. Did you get lots of sun today?â
The pair of California Condors regard you long enough to see if you have food, then return their attention to preening. Theyâll probably sleep soon. You should, too, but right now itâs nicer to watch them in the scant light and summer air.Â
You donât register anything wrong until the door to the aviary opens. A normal person wouldnât be able to hear it from this distance, but you can. Just like you hear a voice, one that was insulting you two days ago for chaining him to a lamp post, admonishing someone.
â...in there, they have their own exhibit.â
You hide behind the trashcan. When the door opens, you wish you had your gloves on you, or literally any weapon. If it comes to a physical fight you still like your odds, but your secret identity will be toast.Â
âAlright gentleman, Iâll deploy the sleeping gas, then itâs two men per bird.â The Penguin coos, âitâs alright my friends, weâre going to take you somewhere far nicer.â
Is he fucking serious?Â
Youâre so indignant on their behalf it overrides everything else.
âIs your âsomewhere far nicerâ climate controlled? And this size?â You stand, crossing your arms, âwill you be bringing in a vet on this scam when they get sick?â
The Penguin frowns, cocking his head, âAnd who would you be, my dear?â
âIâm head of the education department. Which is why I can tell you there are fewer than 600 of these in the wild, and that each of these birds was hand-reared from a chick to be part of species preservation breeding programâ You notice two of the henchmen getting closer, only for the Penguin to hold out an arm, stopping them.
âAnything else you wish to lecture me on?âÂ
âWhoâs going to care for them? Even if you treat them like pets, do you have a care plan in place if you get, yâknow, arrested? Again?â
âWell-â
âDo you really want to end up responsible for something so incredible dying? Just because you wanted it all for yourself?â You glance at the birds, one of whom is now asleep, then back at him âyou have a lot of money right? You could come and see them any time you wanted.â
You donât mean for your voice to go so soft. The Penguin does something odd in reply; he smiles. Itâs not the cruel smile you saw when you met him as the Shrike. Itâs charmed and charming, and you have a sinking feeling you want to see it again.Â
The condors stay put.Â
You run your fingers over the brooch. If you put it on, when you leave work today there will be a car waiting to take you on a date. Itâs a different gift each time, but the code has been consistent since your second meeting.Â
âIâm moving to fucking Omaha.â You cower with three other presenters behind the speakers table. And here youâd been so pleased that the Peregrinators Club was willing to have you present in spite of the unforgivable sin of being a woman. One of three invited to speak, in fact.
The Penguin announces he is there to relieve the club of several rare bird taxidermies. You canât bring yourself to be mad about it; not like that many people get to see them in here.
âNow, that leaves me with one more thing to collect.â He turns casually about on the stage, âwhich one of you charming ladies would be so kind as to accompany me for the evening?â
âFuck no.â The woman next to you shakes her head, âew.â
That part confuses you; the Penguin isnât small, in fact youâd call him handsomely fat. His nose is a bit beaked and crooked (youâd bent it yourself two days ago by headbutting him). To be honest, you havenât paid much attention to how his face makes you feel. The smell is more familiar; hints of cigar smoke and some kind of cologne, clothes that have been dry cleaned and starched.Â
The other woman has her hands over her head like sheâs in a duck and cover drill.Â
You sigh and stand. The Penguin grins when he notices, âExcellent. Come along, my dove, donât be shy.â
He escorts you to a limo, taking your hand as you sit next to him, âI was rather hoping youâd volunteer. If not, I was going to do it for you.â He pats your hand as you narrow your eyes, âthe taxidermy was a nice bonus, not the specimen that I was truly after.â
âWatch it.â You pull your hand back, wary, âhow do I know this isnât just payback for the condors?â
His smile is brittle, âNot the glass half full kind, I see.â
âThatâs not an answer.â Youâre trying to sound unsure and afraid instead of annoyed. He seems like the kind of man that works on.Â
He rests his hands between his legs, posture sagging, âI wanted to see you again. Iâve been thinking of you ever since the zoo. I feel we may be...birds of a feather. Abduction means you wonât be mistaken for an accomplice.â
An amused smile creeps across your face, âYou kidnapped me to hear more bird facts?â
âNot solely.â He gingerly takes your hand and you give it willingly, âpermit me an evening to make my case for companionship, starting with dinner. Name the place you wish to dine and weâll go.â
âIs the Red Rose Lounge really as good as everyone says?â
He grins, âLetâs find out.â
It was the nicest evening youâd had since moving to Gotham. Oz (you called him that in case he recognized how you said his last name or villain title. He beamed when you did) hung on your every word, and had more than a few stories of his own to share. He had wine but didnât push you to share it, and your palates aligned shockingly well. By the end of the night, you were giddy enough to kiss his cheek. Youâre not sure youâve ever seen a man look so surprised. Or delighted.Â
You made him promise to come up with a way of asking you out that didnât involve kidnapping. You found the box with the vulture-shaped stud earrings on your desk two days later, with a note telling you to put them on if you wanted to see him that night.Â
You pin the owl brooch into the lap of your sweater and start in on your to-do list. Itâs not yet winter break, so the zoo is slow, and no one is clamoring to schedule educational events or visits so late in the year. You end up completing an updated script for the bird show until itâs time to go.Â
Oz is waiting for you in a black, vintage Cadillac. Youâve ended up on the hood of it several times as the Shrike; this is the first time you get to enjoy the interior.Â
âHi, Oz.â You lean in and kiss his cheek.Â
âIâm so glad you accepted my invitation, my dove.â
âDo I get to know where weâre going?â
âOur favorite haunt for dinner. Then to the Aladdin theater for a Hitchcock double-feature.â
âWhat are they showing besides The Birds?â
âYour favorite; Rear Window.â
âOooh, I canât wait to see it on the big screen.âÂ
The waiter at Heron and Reed is expecting you, and your usual small booth in the back corner is mercifully near the fireplace.Â
Oz clicks his tongue as he clasps his hands over yours on the black tablecloth, âyouâre chilled. Here, take my coat-â
âOz, Iâm okay. I just run cold.â
He undoes his pin-striped scarf and loops it over your shoulders, âAt least take this.âÂ
âEven if it blocks the view?â You tuck it into your sweater, savoring the warmth carried from his skin to yours and covering any hint of cleavage.Â
âChivalry requires sacrifice.â He re-takes your hand, keeps his thigh in place when yours bumps it. He orders the usual; blackened salmon for him, wild mushroom pot pie for you. Itâs not an exaggeration to say you dream about the stuff.Â
Not that itâs the main thing you dream about.Â
No, that honor goes to the man beside you. In spite of never seeing him in less than three layers of clothing youâre certain that naked, heâs a sight to behold. You know what it feels to like to cuddle up to him (or get the jump on him), but your brain eagerly offers up theories of what it would be like to be in his lap, or beneath him in bed, how heâd sound as he fucked you, what heâd say as he buried himself in you.
The first time you had one of those dreams after a fight instead of a date, it worried you. You considered refusing any future dates, then cracked after ten days without seeing him. For now, youâve made your peace with it; Batman is always hooking up with Catwoman and sheâs not exactly law-abiding.Â
Besides, youâre pretty sure dating Oz does more to deter his criminal behavior than thwarting him does. Heâs out with you at least once a week, you know for a fact he picks all your gifts in-person which must mean a lot of shopping, and more than once youâve spotted him at the zoo, watching the condors.
(He also confessed last month, after a bottle of Chardonnay, that heâs lost more than one afternoon to, âlaying on my bed and daydreaming of ways to woo youâ).
By the time youâre done with dinner and seated in the theater, personal space is a faraway concept. You raise the armrest and nestle against him. A soft, odd coo leaves his throat as he wraps his arm around you. As the lights dim, youâre once again faced by the question thatâs been hammering in your head for weeks.Â
Why hasnât he made a move? He hasnât even kissed you. Itâs been six months!
Meanwhile, any time the Shrike hunts down the Penguin he seems ten seconds from ripping your costume off and fucking you over the nearest flat surface. He nibbled your ear when taunting you two weeks ago, for fucks sake.Â
âMy dove?â
His voice pulls you back into the theater.
âSorry, my mind wandered.â You toy with the scarf as you smile at him, âIâm so cozy and full from dinner, little worried I might fall asleep on you.â
âThe faux pas will be safe with me.â He kisses the top of your head as the lights dim.Â
Halfway through The Birds, youâre reminded of yet more reasons to move to Omaha.Â
Killer Croc barrels through the screen, one of the Bat family in hot pursuit. The wiring sparks as they fight, and all too soon the sprinkler system kicks on, soaking you before Oz can get his umbrella open.Â
âThat scale-brained troglodyteâ Oz growls as the two of you make for the car in the freezing wind, âIâll skin him the next time he shows his face. Then make him into a handbag I can gift you in apology for this disastrous evening.â
âN-noâ you shiver as Oz opens the car door and shoos you in, âno need to skin anyone on my behalf. Justâ another shiver, âget me somewhere warm, please.â
âYour wish is my command.âÂ
Oz is an aggressive driver. An upside of this is you reach your destination in outer Gotham remarkably fast given traffic.Â
âMy humble abode.â Oz bows, opening the door of a shiny apartment building, âwell, I suppose the base of it. Come along.â
The elevator deposits you at the penthouse door.
âThe penguin door knocker is a nice touch.âÂ
âI thought you might appreciate it.â Oz guides you inside, taking your soaked coat and hanging it next to his on the hooks by the door. You follow him deeper into the apartment; itâs the color scheme you expected, black and white with metallic accents, but instead of sleek or modern furniture, the chairs and sofas look built for comfort.Â
Oz flicks a switch on the wall of the living room and a fireplace blazes to life, âI promise to give you a full tour another time. The first order of business tonight is a hot bath, to address both the chill and the tension from our interrupted evening. Iâll have it ready in a momentâ His hand lingers on your cheek even as he turns for a darkened doorway.
You give him points for creativity; getting you nice and relaxed in the tub before making his move is more interesting than just insisting you take your clothes off to avoid catching cold.Â
When he calls for you to join him, you expect to find him already in the tub. Instead heâs still fully clothed, one hand dipping into the water of an immense Jacuzzi tub thatâs at risk of overflowing with bubbles.Â
âYouâre not joining me?â Your fingers hesitate on the hem of your blouse.Â
âNo. Although Iâd very much like it if you permitted me to keep you company from out here.â
âBe my guest.â You start undressing, curious about what heâll do. The answer is: examine the ceiling until he hears you enter the water.Â
You moan happily and he quickly drags a small chair in from the other room and sits so heâs facing you. Some small part of you still braces for him to tell you that your wet clothes mean youâll have to spend the rest of the night naked. Or that he wants you to slip your hand between your thighs and give him a show.Â
A much larger part of you wants to suggest it yourself.Â
But you talk like you always do as the room fills with orange blossom steam. Until you idly lift your leg from the suds to stretch and Ozâs train of thought loses its track mid-description of a boyhood trip to the botanical gardens.Â
His gaze follows the water down your leg. You take your time lowering it as you say, âCanât remember the last time I took a bubble bath.âÂ
âI find theyâre a must after a long day.â Â
You shift in the water so that your arms rest on the edge of the tub nearest him. Youâre pretty sure the bubbles hide the swell of your ass. Youâre also well past caring if he sees.Â
âWhen I was a kid Iâd try to make a tower out of the bubbles. I think my little-kid logic told me I could reach the shower head if I stacked them high enough.â You mound a handful of suds on top of another.Â
Oz moves from his chair to kneel on the floor, pushing up his sleeves and sweeping a hand through the bubbles. Itâs awkward, so unlike his usual dapper bearing, that you canât help but smile.Â
âWere you happy as a child?â He draws a circle in the foam. Heâs never asked about that part of your life. You assume itâs to keep the conversation from steering into his own past.Â
âYeah. I mean, my parents werenât perfect, but they love me.â You hazard being honest, âthe next time they visit, you should meet us for dinner.âÂ
âI would like that.â He rests his hand on your arm. His sleeves arenât up quite high enough and a damp spot forms on the white fabric.Â
Before you can ask what else heâd like, he pats your skin, âI have a few things to attend to. Iâve left you a towel for when youâre through, my pretty peacock.â
You linger a few minutes more, then wrap yourself in the large, fluffy black towel.Â
âI hope youâre not planning to make me take a cab in just this?â You tease as you wander back toward the fireplace.
âNever.â Oz walks into view with a garment bag on a hanger, âI intended this to be a gift for a future date, but needs must.â
You unzip the bag. Waiting inside is a sweater dress, black with swirls of white sequins forming a snowstorm at the bottom.Â
âItâs so soft.â
âCashmere. Here, here, try it on.â He eagerly hands the bag to you, once again regarding the ceiling until you say itâs safe to look.Â
âCan you do this last button on the back?â
âOf course, my pet.âÂ
He doesnât step away once heâs through. When you turn to face him, youâre practically chest to chest.
âItâs wonderful, Oz. Thank you.â You gingerly set your hands on his chest and place a single, innocent kiss on his lips. His face moves from surprised to delighted, then lands on something you canât parse. You donât want to rush him, so you lower your hands to gently hold his.Â
Oz looks down, then lifts your hands to his lips and kisses each in turn before meeting your eyes, âI think itâs best if you head home. This storm is only getting worse, and Iâd never forgive myself if you ended up in a wreck because you dawdled with me.â
It wrong-foots you so completely that you say âof courseâ without pausing to argue. You spend the cab ride home regretting this decision, and the time you spend getting ready for bed sorting through reasons why Oz made it.Â
The best you come up with is this: Oz prides himself on being calculating and classy. Maybe you jumped the gun, while heâs waiting to create the perfect evening to confess his feelings. The thought is so adorable it lessens the sting of rejection.Â
It also makes you slightly less annoyed when, two nights later, you feel a figure behind you during a stake out.Â
âHas my little bird finally come home to roost?âÂ
You reach back with your right hand and set it on his belly, claws out.Â
âStay there, Cobblepot. And donât flatter yourself; the Iceberg Lounge just happens to be the best vantage spot for this.â
âYouâre on my private balcony. One might call that trespassing.â The very tip of the umbrella slowly drags up the back of your right thigh.Â
âOne might. One might also want to stay the hell out of my way if he wants his liver in one piece.â You keep your eyes on the street below, âIâve been on these five for months. Members of the fucking vice squad.â
âA noble profession.â He muses dryly.Â
You snicker, bitter, âThese ones like to assault the kids theyâre âsavingâ from turning tricks before taking them in. Since most end up locked up anyway for their âprotectionâ these fuckers have easy access to them to do it again. Gordon probably knows and is trying to nail them on it, but Iâm sick of waiting.â
Voices from a half-open door on the street. You brace, ready to jump, breaking contact with Oz in the process.Â
âCareful, my bloodthirsty beauty. Iâd hate to see you in a cage.â
âThatâs a lie and we both know it.âÂ
Heâs much closer now, one hand resting on your waist as he whispers, âYouâre right. Iâd keep you nice and warm in a golden one, if I could.â
You make the mistake of turning your head to look at him. His eyes glitter in the city lights and for a moment you forget who you are.Â
Oz makes his move in that moment, grips your chin and kisses you hard. You donât embrace him, but you canât bring yourself to push him away and lose the taste of him. You do manage to bite his lip as he pulls back, but the heat fueling the movement isnât anger.Â
He touches the bruise on his lip, âI wonât wait forever, my dear.â
You think about bubbles, about cashmere on your skin and hesitance in his eyes.Â
âIâll believe that when I see it.â You wink before jumping out into the cold, waiting air.
â-------------------------------------------------------------------
So help you god, if Oz doesnât make a move tonight, youâre going to talk to Batman about giving you a course remedial investigation skills.Â
Itâs December 23rd. Oz knows youâre not doing anything for Christmas. His invitation tonight was to his penthouse for a âcandle-lit dinner for two.â He suggested you pack spare clothes, âjust in case the weather is too frightful to travel and it's safer to stay in our cozy nest.âÂ
If all that doesnât add up to, âplease spend the next several days under me in bedâ you donât know what does.Â
You arrive in the dress he gave you, complete with a lacy surprise underneath. Thereâs a bounce in his step as he takes your coat and as he guides you to the dining room. There are only two chairs, one at the head and one at its right, a bottle of champagne in an ice-bucket, and glasses that are genuine crystal.Â
âIâm nearly done setting the mood. Let me just fetch the centerpiece and then we can begin the courses in earnest.â He pulls out one of the chairs and you sit with a smile.
âYou really know how to make a girl feel special.âÂ
âIâve anticipated tonight with an eagerness I cannot fully convey. I want it to be perfect. Here, my dove, take a look at this charming plant I found for the table.âÂ
He passes you a small pot. The plant within it resembles a bird of paradise on psychedelics, greens and purples on the leaves giving way to a pink flower with pollen so yellow it hurts your eyes.Â
Your brain puts all the features together into an identification. Thatâs when interest gives way to alarm; this is Cupids Arrow. A plant that produces what can be best described as âsex pollen.â Youâve read up on the effects and theyâre nothing to sneeze at.Â
Maybe Oz really doesnât know. Maybe heâs not trying to trick you into getting so horny you beg the nearest warm body for relief.Â
âIt has a fascinating scent. I canât place what it reminds me of, can you?â
Motherfucker.Â
You put the pot on the table and push yourself out of the chair like itâs on fire, âYou have five fucking seconds to explain yourself.â
âMy dove-â
âNo, donât even try it, not after trying to give me the worlds strongest aphrodisiac and lying to me about it!â
âI only meant toâ that is, darling, you must understand that youâre in no danger-â
âRight, yeah, sure, this is exactly the kind of stunt safe men pull.â Youâre already moving for the front door, ânight, Oz. Been nice knowing you.â
A frantic âwaitâ darts out the door as you close it. You donât stop.Â
Is that why he wouldn't kiss you back before? Itâs no fun for him if you offer yourself happily, only if youâre tricked into it and helpless to resist?Â
You thought he cared about you.Â
That you were birds of a feather.Â
By the time youâre home, all you can do is lay face-down on your bed while anger and hurt jockey for control inside you.Â
You want to know why he did it. You want to get him back for it.Â
(You want to continue the night as planned, kiss him until heâs breathless and youâre desperate, see how handsome he looks naked in the firelight).
Getting an answer out of him, let alone payback, while still wanting him so intensely it hurts, feels impossible for you.Â
For the Shrike, howeverâŚ..
â----------------------------------------------------------------------------
At 8:06 pm, Christmas Eve, you set your plan in motion.Â
You slip a remote-controlled micro-dart through the keyhole of the penthouse and steer it from outside until you find your target. The thud five seconds after it makes contact with Ozâs neck tells you itâs all clear.Â
Youâre glad for the enhanced strength from the accident; youâre not small, but Oz still outweighs you. Your powers mean youâre not just dragging him like a sack of soil from the living room into his bedroom.
You prop him up in the cushy, black chair by his desk and get to work. His jacket, tie, and vest come off first. You debate removing his burgundy, silk dress shirt too, but the way it stretches over his belly makes you purr. You leave it be for now.Â
Next come the pants. The black boxers underneath arenât a surprise, although you chuckle when you see theyâre designer. Your Oz; classy to last stitch.Â
Your initial plan was to use the rope you brought to tie him up. Then you spot a spool of thick, red ribbon on his dresser. Heâs been wrapping presents.Â
Perfect.
You tie his arms, hand atop elbow, behind him. Secure a loop around either thigh to keep them open, then string those strands back and knot them to his wrists.Â
He comes-to just as you finish collaring his neck with the red satin, tying it off in a nice, neat bow.Â
âFinally deemed my bower worthy of a visit, little bird?â He smiles
âYou could say that.â You step back. He tries to follow you, reach for you, and notices his predicament.Â
His face changes instantly and he snarls, âRelease me at once.â
You shake your head with a smile.Â
âOne of my men is bound to notice if I donât give orders for a while. And when they find and untie me I am going to wring your pretty little neck!â
âNo, youâre not. For starters, your entire staff has the next two days offâ when he blinks, confused, you tilt your head at his phone, âyou sit by the window when checking your emails. Or entering your passwords. And I have very good eyesight.â
Oz narrows his eyes, âWhat do you want?â
âCurrently Iâm just enjoying the view.â You slide your gaze from his chest to his thighs, with a long pause at his crotch, then back up again.Â
He squirms, turning his head and trying to tuck in on himself. When the ribbons prevent it, he sucks his stomach in, âYou mean youâre enjoying humiliating me.â
âI said what I said, Cobblepot. Speaking of humiliationâŚâ you lift the Cupids Arrow from the windowsill, keeping it a safe distance from your face, âa little bird told me this plant has some very interesting effects.âÂ
Oz freezes, brown eyes wide and pleading, âPlease donât, whatever point youâre making youâve made it, Iâll give you anything you want, information, money, anything to keep that plant over there.â
You cock your head, âWhy should I? I know of at least one woman youâve tried it on.â venom floods your voice, âhow many others did you use it on before her?â
âOnly her! Iâm not a monster!â
âDebatable overall but at the moment I agree, seeing as youâre rather helpless. I think I prefer you this way.â
 You gather pollen into your hand and smear it across his nose and mouth. Heâs moaning before your glove even leaves his skin. As you peel off your gloves and set them aside, you watch his cock tent his boxers, the wet spot near-instantaneous.Â
âNow, what to doâŚâÂ
âLeave me be, youâve humiliated me enough-â he moans helplessly as you hook a finger under the collar.
âReally,? You want me to just leave you like this?â You brace your free hand on the back of the chair, graze the other down his chest. You donât even have to touch his cock through his boxers; just the heat of your palm being close to it makes him buck at the air and whine.Â
âAw, Oz, do you like me?â
âNo.â He grits his teeth, then groans as you let his cock grind against your hand, âand you have, have no right to address me so informally, ohgodâÂ
You press your hand more firmly against his cock, âJesus, is this why you kept the plant around? Because you need help getting enough blood heading south to fill this fucking beast out?â
âIt wasnât for me and you know it.â
âThen why do you have it?â
He looks at you, pupils dilated and expression pathetic, âPlease donât make me say it.â
âFine. Iâll say it for you. You wanted someone to be desperate for you.â You straighten and he pouts at the loss of your touch, âwhy use an aphrodisiac instead of just asking her? Youâve never had any issues flirting with me.â
âThatâs different. Weâre enemies, my buxom butcherbird-â
You laugh and he does his best to glare at you.Â
âDonât mock me, every turn of phrase is an effort when Iâm in this state.â He keeps his eyes defiantly on yours, âI wouldnât expect you to understand. Some of us need all the help we can get wooing our mates.â
Genuine insecurity flashes across his face. For as frustrated as you are with him, thatâs all it takes for your affection to claw its way(temporarily) to the surface.Â
Your voice softens as you say, âYou should really pay less attention to what the tabloids say. Or your âco-workersâ for that matter. You have your charms, Oz.â You scritch under his chin and his eyes flutter closed.Â
âSuch sweet torment.â He sighs, keeping his chin tilted up, smiling as the touches continue.
âHereâs how this is going to go. Youâre going to tell me what you planned to do with the person you tried to use the plant on. As long as you do, Iâll help relieve you, uh, predicamentâ you set your hand against his clothed cock âyou stop, I stop, we clear?â
âI was never going to harm her!â To his credit, he looks horrified at the thought. But thatâs not what you asked.
You pull your hand away, âI also stop if you dodge the question.â
âNo!â He gasps, pushing his hips forward, âno please, you must believe me. I wanted to make her feel good. To show her why she should choose me. I, I wanted to kiss herâŚâ
âNo one uses a plant like that to get a fucking kiss.â You place your hand back, Oz rutting against it like his life depends on it.Â
âI, I wanted to take her to bed. To undress her and map her body with my hands, make love to her, hear her beg for my touch, my cock, for me. Bring her pleasure in whatever way she asked until she agreed to be mine, to stayâ his next words catch, more sob than anything else, âmy dove, ahhn, sheâd have been wrapped around my finger as tightly as I am hers.â
âNone of that explains why you tried to drug her instead of just asking her. Frankly, youâre far more convincing like this.â You kiss his nose and he shudders happily. When you peck him on the lips, it turns to him inelegantly mouthing at your cheek and jaw as he cums with a groan.Â
His cock is still hard in your palm as he pants, âAm I convincing enough for you to end this charade?â
âWhy should I? I'm enjoying myself. Not to mention if I let you go now you'll be waddling around Gotham with a hard-on that can be seen from space.â
The silk shirt is soaked in sweat. He rests his head against the back of the chair, eyes squeezed shut, âYouâre merciless, my songbird.â
You kneel between his thighs, flick the knife from the side of your boot and gingerly slice one leg of the boxers, then the other. Pulling the tatters apart reveals a deliciously thick cock, pre-cum sporadically dripping from the head as Oz mindlessly rolls his hips against the air.Â
âGorgeous.â You murmur.Â
âDonât patronize me-â He jolts hard enough to move the chair as you flick your tongue over the head of his cock.Â
âRight, patronizing.â You lick a stripe down to the root, kiss his left ball for the fun of it, âthatâs definitely what Iâm doing here.â You kiss his inner thigh, certain youâre learning what heaven is like.Â
âYou are amusing yourself by seeing me in a ruined state. And showing a cruelty I did not think you capable of.â
âOh?â You look up to find his expression painfully crestfallen.Â
âYouâre pretending you want this for what it is. Want me for what I am.â
All the heat and excitement boiling in you hardens in a heartbeat and sinks into your stomach.
âYou really thought Iâd reject you at dinner.â You set your hand on his belly and feel him inhale, âI thought I had âplease fuck meâ written in neon above my headâŚâ
He looks at you, and as you watch the gears turn behind those coffee-brown eyes, you grip your mask and say, âPlease donât make me regret this.â
You set the black mask on the rug, Oz staring as you do. Heâs still staring, face implacable, when you look up again.Â
âIsâŚis this a deal breaker?â You gesture to your suit, âif you donât want me anymore I get it-â
âNo! I mean yes! I meanâ Oz shakes his head with a frustrated grunt, âuntie me this instant!â
You cross your arms, âSo you can throttle me?â
âSo I can spend the rest of the night in your arms instead of trussed up like a turkey!â
You grin, âI could untie you. OrâŚâ you trail a fingernail under the ribbon on his left thigh, âyou could be patient for me just a liiiitle longer.â You look up through your lashes, âwonât you let me really savor unwrapping my present?âÂ
Oz smiles back, âWhy should I?â
You activate the invisible zip on the top of your suit, drawing it down to the base of your cleavage, âPretty please?â
âMy devious little dove, however am I supposed to say no to that?â He rolls his hips more pointedly, âcome finish what you started.â
You let a squeal of delight escape up your throat as you dive back in. His cock feels perfect in your mouth, like he was made to fit you. If the weight of him gliding along your tongue is an indicator, itâs going to feel amazing when he finally presses into your cunt.Â
If your mouth is eager, then your hands are greedy. They grope for every inch of him you can get, play with his balls and grip his thighs like theyâre shiny new toys for you and you alone. Oz moans and gasps with every touch. When you pull off his cock to kiss his belly, he whines your name.Â
When you bite down, he simply squawks. The sound makes you laugh and, to your relief, he laughs too as you rest your cheek on his stomach and look up at him.Â
âSensitive, baby?â
âItâs been a, a AH!â he laughs as you pepper his stomach with kisses, one hand on his waist and the other pumping his cock, âa long time since anyone saw under my clothes, let alone touched there.â
âThatâs a shame.â You drag a kiss up to his pecs, âthereâs so much to love.â
âDarlingâŚâ he moans as you lap at one nipple and run your thumb over the other, âoh youâre going to be the death of me.â
âI hope not. Kind of getting attached.â You continue nipping and kissing at his chest as his thrusts into your fist turn frantic, âthatâs it, baby, all the way, you can cum, I wanna hear you-â
âFuck!â He drops his head, resting his lips against your hair as cum spatters up your suit all the way to your chest.Â
âSuch languageâ you coo.
âYou bring it out in me.â He pants, fighting to catch his breath as you straddle his lap.Â
âIf I undo these, will you be a good boy and clean up the mess?â
He nods and you reach around the chair to cut the ribbons. The instant they snap, he embraces you, one hand in your hair while an arm loops around your waist. He kisses playfully down your neck, moves the material of the suit aside with his teeth to kiss and lick the droplets from your skin.Â
âAh!â You giggle at the sensation, hold his head with both hands and nuzzle his brow, âOz. You donât need that plant, youâre amazINGohâ you smile as he releases your ear from his teeth. When he kisses you, this time you relax into his arms, kissing back with six months worth of pent up affection.Â
âI asked Ms. Isley for it specifically so IâŚI knew I had a chance with you. I want you so terribly and I knew that if you gave me a chance I could show you it was worth being close to me.â
âOz, sweetheart, I wore my sexy underwear that night. I was 100% hoping to fuck you.â
âI see that now.â He takes your hands from his shoulders to hold them, âcan you forgive me? I let troublesome thoughts cloud my judgement. I ought to have been brave enough to risk rejection, for your sake.â
You squeeze his hands, âIâm sorry too. I donât get a lot of chances to be mean in my line of work. Think I got overzealous.â
âIâll forgive it if you promise to let me bind your pretty wings some evening.â
âDone.â You kiss his nose, then nip the end of it, ânever try to drug me again.â
âDone.â He runs his hands hungrily along your sides, âdid you really wear lingerie last night?â
âYep. Black and white lace, bought with you in mind.â His cock presses against your thigh, âthat perks you up, hm?â
âMy dear, that state re-started ten seconds after I made such a mess of you. And it will no doubt continue for some time.â
You rest a hand to his forehead, âJesus, Oz, youâre burning up. How long does the pollen last?â
âTwelve hours.â He growls, scooping you into a bridal carry as he stands.Â
âYou were planning to fuck me for twelve hours last night??â
âYes. With mechanical assistance if necessary. Iâm not one to arouse a ladies desire and then leave her wanting. No matter the length of the task.â He lays you down on the bed, âare you going to be good and grant me the same attention?â
You fully unzip your top and toss it aside, then start on your boots and pants. He takes that for the assent it is, pulling his shirt free and dropping it in a hamper. When he reaches for the ribbon around his neck, you shake your head.Â
âI like it on you. Itâs cute.â
The blush on his face deepens. He hovers by the edge of the bed, âDo we need anything to, ah, prevent an unexpected visit from the stork?â
âNo. The incident that turned me into the Shrike gave me a fucking chemical hysterectomy in the process.â You rest your head on the pillows and spread your legs, âall the same, you should come over here and let your mate take care of you. Since you brought her to such a nice nest.â
He climbs on the bed only to hesitate again, âAre you sure about this position? I donât want to crush you.â
âTrust me, I can handle it.â You flash him a smile, âI like my men big. And if I didnât want to see you naked, I wouldnât have undressed for you. Now come here and do what youâve clearly been imagining doing for months.â
Oz is on you with a playful growl. He hurriedly presses his cock into you and you moan.
âMy, my, you really were enjoying having me at your mercy. Youâre beautifully wet.â
âUhmhmâ you hook your legs around his, âOz.â
âRight here, my darling.â He shifts so you're face to face, kissing his way down one cheek.Â
You hook your finger under the ribbon and tug him into a proper kiss.Â
âMm, just what every girl wants under the tree. A handsome, charming man all for her.â
He coos bashfully and you kiss him again. His thrusts are hard, almost demanding, but his pace is slow and his words are sweet.Â
âMy gorgeous, gorgeous girl.â He gives a sharper thrust and you moan in reply. Oz braces on one arm so he can use his other hand to play with your tits.Â
âYou've a rapturous form my dear, my angelâ he squeezes the left side possessively, âI cannot wait to dress it in silk and fur.â
âNot feathers?â You tease, pushing his dark hair from his forehead.
âWe shall see. Currentlyâ his hips speed up, âI donât want to see you in a scrap of clothing until new years.â
âGonna keep me warm in the meantime?â
âMy dove, youâll be lucky if I move from inside you, let alone atop you.â
âPerfect. Oh, ohâ you buck your hips against him, âOz, right thereâ the shape of him means your clit rubs against his body as he fucks you, and you feel your orgasm tightening your muscles.Â
âThatâs it my darling.â His hand moves from your chest to your hip, pinning you so all you can do is take him as deep and hard as he pleases, âthatâs it, take everything I give, take all of me, oh, ohgodâ his hips speed up and you yelp, âsuch lovely cries, do you think youâll still have a voice by morning?â
You whimper, shaking your head, and only manage to gasp his name before your orgasm tears through you. Oz hooks one arm under your lower back and the other beneath your arm to grip your shoulder, fucks into you so roughly you kick at the sheets as you moan. When he cums he buries his face into your neck, panting your name as he spills into you.Â
âJesus.â You hold him, stroking his back fondly, âfuck, Oz, youâre amazing. Youâre so hot and amazing.â You laugh, âand apparently you fucked the rest of my vocabulary out of me.â
He chuckles, raising his head to kiss you sweetly. You have to tense the smallest bit to notice heâs still hard.Â
âShall we see what I can accomplish after another round?â
You kiss his cheek, beaming, âGo for it.â
â----------------------------------------------------------------------------
A bell somewhere in Gotham informs you itâs now ten on Christmas morning. You lift your head from Ozâs chest to confirm, then nestle right back down in his arms.Â
âYouâve presents, you knowâ he points an elbow in the direction of the living room.Â
âDang it. I left mine for you at my place. I can-â
Oz hugs you to him, smiling up at you like youâre a miracle, âLater, my dove. Right now I have exactly what I wished for.â
ADVENT CALENDAR 2025 - DAY 3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
âNicest man ever. Ethan worked with him at the Geffen.â -A commenter
â¨Supportive boyfriendâ¨
Protection (Otto Octavius/Reader)
Prompt for the 19th was: Mafia. This fill is NSFW and mentions blood. Thanks to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord.
Youâve been expecting this knock at your door ever since you signed the papers for the Sundance Theater. When you made the choice to buy it, you knew it was a neighborhood under the âprotectionâ of The Octopus.Â
Far too charming a name for a mob boss, not that anyone asked you.Â
Still, you thought you had more time before the knock. You havenât even set up your office; your ankles and knees bang into boxes when you go to answer.Â
Otto Octavius is more intimidating in person than in the papers. And itâs not like he comes across as a pussycat in the pictures youâve seen.Â
His frame is wide enough that you almost miss the four âemployeesâ behind him in the hallway. Dark glasses cover his eyesâyouâve heard rumors about an explosion in one of his venuesâand his suit is a deep grey, long coat swaying as he steps toward you.Â
âGood afternoon, my dear.â He doffs his fedora. The movement would be polite were it not for the glance he casts up your body.
âAfternoon. Iâm afraid weâre not open yet. Iâm aiming for Friday, if you all would like to come back then.â
Octavius walks past you, dropping his hat on your desk and leaning back against it to study you, âIâm not here for a show. Iâm here to talk business.â
âBy which you mean how much of a cut you want from my box office?â
A tight-lipped, insincere smile, âExactly. Ten percent of whatever you make goes to me.â
Fuck, youâll barely scrape by at that rate. Youâve already run the numbers.
âSix.â
He raises a brow, amused, âItâs not usually a negotiation, sweetheart.â
You bristle at his tone, âkeep calling me that and I'll go down to four.â
He pushes off from the desk. You flinch but hold your ground, âMy folks ran a movie house back home. I know what my monthly takeâll be, times being what they are. You shake me down for ten percent, youâll have an empty theater and zero money from it in four months.â
Octavius is close enough that you feel his body heat as his aftershave tickles your nose. When he holds out his hand you flinch again and he laughs.Â
âNo need to be jumpy. I never discipline a first offense. Seven is my final offer.â
âDone.â You put your hand out and try not to think about how it practically disappears when he shakes it.Â
âIâll send someone around at the end of each month to collect.â He pulls you closer by your wrist, âhave your books ready for a peek. Think Iâll need to keep an eye on you.â His thumb and forefinger grip your chin, âdonât try anything smart. This face will only get you out of so much with me.â
You step back, severing the touch, âIâll keep that in mind.â
â----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first month you're open, Octavius sends a heavy to come pick up his protection money. On month two, youâre sorting the reels in storage when a body blocks the light from the hallway.Â
âWhat did I say about cooking your books?â
Your stomach twists, but you turn with a calm smile, âWhat makes you think I am?â
âThe envelope you left for me on your desk. Thatâs not seven percent of-â
âIt is when plenty of people are pinching pennies and donât want to pay for the films Iâm able to show.âÂ
He furrows his brow, âWhatâs wrong with them?â
You sigh, âNothing, but most of the theaters in the city show the same films. Itâs hard to compete, and hard to build variety if you donât have any cash to spare. This place even came with theseâ you tap the older reels, âtheyâre pre-code, theyâd be a real draw. Until someone on the city council got wind.â
âLeave them to me.â He smiles. You give him a business-like one in return.Â
âThanks, Mr. Octavius. If theyâre not breathing down my neck I can maybe show a few pictures out of Germany or France, too.â
âA woman of culture, I see.â
âDonât patronize me. Please.â You barely remember to add that last word, and your tone is flat.
âIâd never talk down to you, little ray of sunshineâ Heâs much closer now, his eyes dangerously charming.
You snicker, âThatâs a new one.â
âReally? Iâm surprised; your decoration isnât subtle.â He gestures a black-gloved hand toward the lobby, with its murals of bright skies over deserts and light fixtures curved like rising suns.Â
You shrug, âI didnât choose it. The previous owner must have been into the Egyptian craze. Sun gods and all that. It could really use a touch up. I might be able to pay for one if I made, say, seven percent more a month.â
That same, tight smile, âNice try, spitfire.â Heâs fully blocking your ability to leave the room, to do any of the million tasks needed to keep the Sundance running.Â
âLook, weâre done here, will you let me-â You cut off with a gasp as your back hits the wall.
âYou donât give the orders. Understood?â His finger jabs into your chest, and all you can think of is what else those hands could do to you. How easily your blouse would rip under them, how much of your throat they could grip, how roughly they could pull your hair as he gave you orders-
Now is not the time for that.Â
You fix him with a withering look, âYes, sir.â
âGood girl.â He punctuates the words by brushing his finger briefly over your cheek, âYouâll be showing those older movies in a week.â Octavius moves to the door, then smirks back at you, âsave me a seat.â
â------------------------------------------------------------------
You show The Mummy first; thereâs some old ballyhoo in storage along with the film, meaning itâs easier to draw guests in from the street. You sell out the whole weekend.
When youâre running the projector Saturday night, you peer down and see Octavius in the very center of the back row. He glances up, sees you, and crooks to fingers, indicating you should come down.Â
You shake your head, pointing at the projector. He nods, understanding, and gives you a little salute.Â
The next weekend, youâre loading Frankestein into place, brushing dust off your slacks, when your foot catches the power cord. You bend to fix it, facing the doorway, straighten to find Octavius watching you. He doesnât bother looking away from where your white blouse has popped a button; the damn thing never stays closed across your chest, which is why you only wear it on days when youâll be hidden away up here.Â
âQuite the show.â
âIâm glad you liked it.â You roll up your sleeves, continue prepping for the next showing.Â
âYouâve got great taste, sunshine.â He removes a cigar from his coat pocket, âif Rosie was around Iâd be bringing her here every week to catch the imported stuff. Probably appreciate it more than I do.â
When he pulls the matchbook, you reach out and pluck it from his fingers without thinking.Â
âNo smoking in my projector room.â
The cigar is still in his mouth when he quirks a brow at you.Â
âHalf of the stuff here will go up in smoke if you so much as say âfire.â
He tucks the cigar away, âGood point.â
You set the matchbook in his waiting palm, âCâmon, you were a science professor once upon a time right? You have to remember chemistry; nitrate plus too much heat equals a lost investment.âÂ
Octavius chuckles a little, coming to stand at your elbow as you finish aligning the reel, âHowâd you know that?â
âI read the papers. When I started shopping around for a theater, I read everything I could find about who controlled the areas I was looking in.â
âPragmatic.â
âI try.â You smile, pleased at the compliment. Feel the expression go shyer than you mean when he meets your eyes over his glasses. Thereâs a softness in his gaze, the lines and curves of his face becoming all the more striking in the low light of the booth.
âIs that why you keep showing movies about mad scientists? To get under my skin?â He teases.Â
âIs it working?â
âI donât know. Iâll have to catch a few more, see how I feel.â He steps away from you, sits in one of the chairs against the wall of the room, âThink Iâll see how the show looks from this angel tonight.â
His gaze rolls over you again, but it feels different this time. Like heâs trying to see rather than just look. So you let him, turning back to the projector as the room below begins to fill so he can enjoy the view.Â
â----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Octavius becomes a fixture in your projection room. At first you assume itâs because thatâs the last place someone will look for a mob boss, so he can relax. But when you ask the kid who shares projection duties with you if Octavius ever sits in he shakes his head, confused
Your next hypothesis is that heâs hoping youâll put out. Except he never moves beyond banter and hungry looks, no matter how empty the theater below you is. The closest he ever got was patting his lap, musing that you looked so tired, kitten, how about curling up here to keep warm.Â
You jokingly hissed at him and he laughed. You thought about taking him up on the offer the rest of the night. And for at least two nights after that.Â
All of that is to say that when Octavius doesn't appear for a whole week, youâre worried something happened. You check the papers every day, bracing for a headline about how The Octopus was found in pieces, or how some joke about how not even he can swim with cement shoes.Â
August nights in this city are miserable, and living above the theater means being in the direct line of the rising heat. Which is why youâre still awake at 11pm on a Tuesday, urging the breeze from your bedroom down the front of your white slip.Â
A bang from the window in the front room startles you. Your mood is not improved when you hurry in and find a large figure slumped against your wall.Â
âArenât you a sight for sore eyes?â
âJesus! Fuck, Octavius you scared the hell out of me. Oh Christ, is that blood?â
âNothing escapes you, sunshine.â Red drips hit the hardwood as he leers at you, âgonna faint on me?â
âNo, but you will if you donât sit down.â You haul him to the sofa and he lets you, his legs barely supporting him long enough to make the short distance.Â
Heâs so pale. When you push his jacket away, blood staining your hand, you see why. His white dress shirt is so wet it oozes when you try peeling the fabric away to see the wound.
âWe need to get this off.â You begin unbuttoning his shirt.Â
He chuckles, woozy, âGonna let me make some time?â
âI need this open so I can clean up the blood and stop the flow.â You carefully peel the shirt away from his sweat and blood soaked skin. Your stomach roils at the copper smell and the fact thereâs a literal hole in his side. That means the bullet passed through and didnât hit anything important. You think.Â
âYâknowâ his head lolls to one side, glasses slipping down his nose as you ease him onto his back, âMâa married man. Was a married man. My RosieâŚâ
You let him talk, itâll keep him awake, âIâm going to get some hot water. Stay. Still.â
You fill a dish with water, grab every towel you have, and grab the alcohol you use to treat cuts from your bathroom cabinet. Kneeling by the couch, you carefully dab at the wound; once itâs covered youâll call for help, thereâs no way heâs getting out of this without stitches, but all thatâll be moot if he fucking bleeds out in your apartment first.Â
Heâs still babbling, something about the sun in his hands, when you press the alcohol to torn skin. He snarls in pain and contorts, grabbing your hair at the root.
âOw, ow, Otto please that hurts-â
âHurts? Hurts?! You think this hurts? You donât know the first goddamn thing about hurt!â
Heâs pulling you closer, blood and cologne flood your nose and tears prick your eyes from how roughly heâs yanking your hair.Â
âPleaseâ you say again, with all the calm you can manage, âIâm not trying to hurt you. I want to help.â
âMy RosieâŚit hurts so muchâ his growl gives way to a sob, grip loosening enough for you to pull your head free.Â
âI know. I know.â You touch his cheek with your left hand as you keep cleaning the injury with your right. He grits his teeth, tears rolling down to his chin, and presses his face into your touch. He doesnât open his eyes until the bandages are in place and the bleeding has stopped.Â
When he looks at you his expression is the gentlest itâs been all night, âYou donât have to look so worried, sunshine. If itâs my time, itâs my time.â
I donât want it to be
You shake the thought away, âThatâs all well and good, but I am not having a mob boss dying in my apartment.â
âNot like anyone will think you did it.â He frowns as you stand, âDonât go. Please come backâ he tears up the longer he looks at you, âyour dress, your lovely dress.â
You look down. Your slip is so wet with blood and water it may as well be painted on.
âItâs just a nightgown. I can replace it.â
His fingers catch the hem, âThe blood on it, itâs likeâŚlike when sheâŚâ
He nearly topples you when he clutches the fabric, shoving his face against it as he sobs, âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry. Iâm so sorry.â
You know heâs not addressing you. Â
Itâd be safest to push him away, tell him to get a hold of himself. That weeping into your skirt wonât bring Rosie back, no more than keeping this neighborhood in a choke hold will.Â
You bend, carefully unpeeling his fingers from the slip so you can kneel. Pushing his hair from his face, you see itâs now smeared with blood.Â
âShhh, shhhâ you soothe, âitâs okay, Otto. It hurts but itâll be okay.â
He whimpers, weakly rubs his cheek into your hand. You smile at the tickle of his stubble, keep up a string of comforting words until his breathing evens out and he slumps further into the cushions.
Once heâs asleep you pick up the phone, dialing the number for what he refers to as his âcampus location.â
âOctavius office. This is Larry.â
Thank god, thatâs one of his main heavies. You explain the situation. The henchman doesnât sound surprised that Octavius ended up in your apartment and he promises to send someone over right away.Â
After hanging up, you fill a bowl with fresh, warm water and settle on the floor by Octavius. Gingerly, you remove his glasses and begin cleaning the remaining blood from his face. The shape of his lips, and lines of his nose, every facet of him begs to be admired. You wonder how long Rosie was able to hold out before kissing him; youâre not sure youâd have made it more than a day.Â
Brown eyes flutter open and a large hand catches your cheek. Then heâs kissing you, softly but oh-so-insistently. You return it, too startled to be anything but honest, until the hand slides from your face into your hair to urge you onto the couch.Â
You pull back, scramble to your feet âIâm not your wife, Octavius.â
âI know.â He blinks, woozy and confused, âso?â
âSo donât kiss me.âÂ
Donât make me think this means anything. Donât make me think you really see me
With some effort, he sits up, âI wonât do it again, I swear. Please stay.â
âOf course Iâll stay. Youâre in my apartment.â
He nods, eyes a thousand miles away, and pats the (non-bloody) spot next to him. Your self-control only extends so far.
As soon as you sit, he rests against you. Heâs so big, so warm, even with the heat you canât think of anything nicer than curling up with him some quiet night. But you canât simply close your eyes and pretend; the smell of blood is too strong.Â
So you rub his arm comfortingly, set your other hand on his thigh only for him to gather it in his own. He stares at it for a beat, then raises it to his face, cradling it there as his lips move.Â
When the quiet words croon out, theyâre barely a melody. It takes you a moment to place what heâs singing.Â
âMy sunshine, my only sunshineâŚâ
A small tug is all it takes to get your head resting on his chest.Â
âYou make me happy, when skies are grey.â
He interrupts the song with a short, pained hiss as he shifts to put both arms around you.Â
âYouâll never know dear, how much I love youâŚâ
Youâre practically in his lap, letting him kiss your knuckles as he half-mumbles the song against them, âPlease donât take my sunshine away.â
For one, beautiful breath, you believe it. Then reality digs its claws into your chest.
âOtto, donât.â
âYou never called me that until tonight. I like when you do.â Heâs still kissing your hand, âdonât what?â
Tears burn the corners of your eyes, âDonât, donât sing to me or kiss me or act like Iâm anything other than one more piece on the chess board.â You jerk your head toward the window and the city beyond.Â
âYou are. Youâre so much more.â
âIâm not. You come to my theater, watch a movie, flirt with me a little if youâre bored. Thatâs what we are to each other; a distraction.â
You meet his eyes; theyâre back to the same level of pained as when you found him bleeding out.Â
âYouâre wrong. Let me take you to dinner and Iâll prove it.â
He probably wonât remember any of this come morning.
The knock from the side door of the theater saves you from having to answer him right away.Â
âMy rides hereâ He murmurs, moving his arms from you at the speed of molasses.Â
How long has it been since someone wanted to stay?
You manage a tiny, playful smile, âIf youâre still alive tomorrow, give me a call.â
â---------------------------------------------------------------------
A week and a half later, youâre counting out the money in the ticket booth before opening when the stem of a half-dozen roses slips through the opening.Â
âHey, sunshine.â Otto smiles at you from under the brim of his hat.Â
âGlad youâre in one piece. And thanks for sending Flo by to let me know you were out of the woods. I was worried.â You step out of the booth, âare they red because theyâre an apology for bleeding on my floor?â
He picks the bouquet up, offering it to you, âI promised you a night out. I intend to do it right.â
Your cheeks match the petals, âI didnât think you meant it.âÂ
âEvery word.â His smile brightens when you take the flowers, âPick you up at eight?â
âGonna make it worth my while to scramble to get someone to cover me tonight?â You bat your lashes.Â
Otto steps closer, hands behind his back but chest almost touching yours, âMore like Iâm gonna make up for all the trouble Iâve caused.â
You kiss his cheek, âIâll see you at eight.â
â------------------------------------------------------------
The dark green dress is modest in hemline and nothing else; it stops below your knees, but the fabric hugs your curves and the pearl buttons can be undone to your belly button. You leave the top three open and watch Otto's gaze flick to the fourth as you come down the stairs.Â
âIâm lucky you donât wear that to work, sunshine; be a line of guys down the block to muscle past just to see you.â He loops his arm around your lower back.
âLooking pretty sharp yourself.â
The restaurant is close enough to walk, and you catch Otto up on the goings on around the theater as you do. As the sign for the Sirens Lounge comes into view, Otto loops his arm through yours.Â
âIâm sorry.â
âIn general or for something specific?âÂ
âBleeding on you, blubbering like a helpless kid, getting freshâ he swallows, bashful, âsinging.â
âThat part I didnât mind. You have a lovely voice.â
âYou should hear it when Iâm not half-dead. Rosie used to tease me, Iâd always sing along with the songs when we danced.â
You laugh, delighted, as he holds the lounge door for you, âLucky girl.â
A nice thing about being on the arm of the Octopus is that no one rushes you through dinner. You and Otto spend two hours getting closer by candlelight. The booth is in the far back corner, may as well be walled off from how little attention he pays to anything but you; by the time youâre feeding him chocolate cake from your fork, youâre practically in his lap and he pants like a dog any time you kiss his cheek. Youâre dying to drag him home by his tie, unbutton his shirt and chase the trail of chest hair peeking out with your kisses.Â
Your nerves still pick up when he summons the car and takes you back to his place. Youâd bet the deed to the Sundance that he wants you in bed. You want to be there, too. Thereâs just the small matter of not being ready to risk getting knocked up by someone with so many enemies.Â
The first thing that wrongfoots you is the apartment itself. Youâre fully expecting intimidating luxury. The space Otto guides you into is paneled with warm wood, the furniture comfy and well-loved, the shelves lined with books and the odd piece of art. It feels inviting, homey, and Otto is clearly proud of it as he gives you a little tour.Â
Your two return to the living room, Otto sitting on the deep green couch, arms and legs in a contented sprawl.Â
âDim the lights, sunshine. That switch.â
You do as he asks, turn back to find him with his glasses off and a wolfish expression.Â
âIs this where you tell me to get on my knees?â
âIs that what you want?â
You think, then shake your head.Â
âCâmere a minute.â He extends his hand and you take it, straddling his lap when he coaxes you down, âWhat do you want, sunshine?â
âI want you, Otto. Iâm not ashamed to say it, but Iâm scared of what might happen if you fuck me full-on and Iâm so wound up Iâm desperate for some way to get off that doesnât involve thisâ you drop one hand to ghost over his fly, âand doesnât leave you out to dry.â
He groans, smiling at you, âMy pragmatist. Always thinking ahead.â He loops his left arm around your lower back, caresses your face with his right hand, âthereâs all kinds of things we can do. My mouthâs good for more than just sweet talking, and my handsâŚâ he chuckles when you turn your face to kiss his palm, âI know you like them. Think you like how big they are.â
You laugh as he gropes your tits through your dress. The firm, possessive touches make you moan, âIs it that obvious?â
âYou watch them. Used to be out of fear, but nowâŚâ the hand drags down the front of your dress, âbet itâs because youâre thinking about what I can do with them. Right?â
âAs rain.â You nestle your face in his neck, nuzzle his cheek and feel him smile.Â
He lifts the hem of your dress, âMay I?â
âPleaseâ you sigh as he slides his hand under the fabric and up your thigh.Â
âOhâ he growls, âyou werenât kidding, you have been thinking about this all night. Almost soaking out of theseâ he snaps the band of your underwear âand onto my pants.â
You purr as he lazily strokes you through the black fabric, âIâll pay the dry cleaning.â
âNo chance. Been dying to feel you lose control, my pragmatist. Plus itâs nice to know you were getting hot at dinner along with me.â He kisses your brow, muttering against it, âthank god for long table cloths.â
You kiss his neck, tease your fingers along his covered cock, âMmm, thatâs very flattering. You could have any girl in this city but youâre getting harder than steel for little old me.â
âI donât want just any girl. I want you.â
âCharmer.â
âItâs trueâ he presses more firmly against your folds, âthink Iâve wanted you from the moment you tried bargaining down your protection percentage.â
âWhat do you mean âtried?â You nip his ear and he moans, âI did bargain you down.â
He smiles and kisses you. Itâs so much better than before, because heâs all here, seeing you and not a ghost from his past. You lick the memories of champagne from between his lips, wrap your arms around his shoulders and dig your fingers against the muscles of his back.Â
âTell me what you want.â You murmur when he lets you breathe.Â
âOh, sunshineâŚ.â he coos, collecting his thoughts, âI wanna corner you in the projection room, cover your mouth and fuck you while the picture runs, leave you with the taste of leather on your tongue and my cum dripping down your thighs. I want to take you to bedâ he jerks his head down the hall, âspend all night under covers, remind myself what it feels like to be a living man instead of a walking corpse.âÂ
You moan, fumble your hand down to join his and shove your underwear to the side.Â
He takes the hint.
âAh! Ohfuck, what, what else do you want?â
âThis.â He curls the two, thick fingers inside you and you yelp in pleasure, the sound making him grin âthat, too. Youâre beautiful like this, oh, oh hello girls.â He growls as you finish unbuttoning the top of your dress.Â
You giggle as he presses his face to your tits, kissing them hungrily as his fingers draw slick, filthy sounds from between your legs. Itâs divine, having all his attention on you. You wrap your arms around his back again, resting one hand in his hair, and hold on tight.Â
Your thighs shake, a tell that youâre close. Youâd be in heaven riding it out on his fingers. But a glance at where his cock is seriously straining his zipper gives you a better idea.Â
âOtto?â
He lifts his head. Your chest is shiny from his kisses, and he looks like heâd jump of the Empire State Building if you asked.Â
âPut your arms around me.â
âYou sure?â He obeys in spite of the question, âDonât have to stop for my sake, Iâd keep doing that until my hands fall off.â
âThatâd be a shame. I only like them because theyâre attached to you.â You adjust, lower yourself down to grind against his cock, moaning at the size as you rub against the trapped shaft, âsame with this.â
âFuck! Fuck,â he tips his head back with a laugh, âthank you, sunshine, fuck, the day you let me fuck that cute little pussy Iâm a goner, wonât wanna do anything else.â
âHmm, thatâs too bad, since I have to run the theater. Youâll have to control yourself.â You run a nail down his neck.Â
He tips his head forward, kissing you messily, âI could do that. Or I could start demanding your protection pay in the form of this.â He gropes your ass with both hands, forcing you into a faster pace, âmake you bounce in my lip or let me ruin your lipstick once a day, keep my head under your skirt while youâre trying to do your books. Oh you like that, donât you sweetheart?â
âUh huh, fuck, Ottoâ
âThatâs it, sunshine, thatâs it. All the way. Gonna make you feel like this every day, because youâre my girl and my girl deserves the best.â
You hide your face against him as you cum. He rubs small, gentle circles on your back as you shudder.
âAm I really your girl?â You look up and find him smiling hopefully.Â
âIf youâll have me.â
âOf course.â You peck his lips, âalthough right now, think itâs more a matter of you having me.â
You only get halfway through rolling your sensitive folds against him when a hand clamps down on either hip.
âGood point.â He ruts demandingly up against you, âthatâs it, câmon, câmon-â
âAh! Holy god youâre strong.â You laugh as you try to wiggle in his lap and find you canât.Â
âWant me to hold you down sometime?â
âDesperately.â You kiss him as his hips jerk and his breath catches. When he cums itâs with a satisfied groan. Better still is how he holds you to him afterwards, like a man searching the dark for something lost and cherished that heâs finally found.Â
âOtto? Cozy as this is, I think we better clean up.â
He nods, âCome take a bath with me. Promise Iâll only get a little handsy.â
âOnly a little?â You pout and flutter your eyelashes.Â
He laughs, scoops you into his arms, and carries you further into the warm, welcoming house.
Fred and his stunt double
Coloring studyđ¨đď¸


