“You think you can just walk away, don’t you?” Oswald whispered, his lips brushing tantalizingly close to Victor’s cheek, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of them.
I do request!!!
The Iceberg Lounge was bathed in low, flickering candlelight, casting long shadows that danced across the opulent room. Rich mahogany furniture gleamed against the muted hues of the walls, and the bar was lined with an impressive array of spirits, tempting anyone who dared to venture closer. Oswald Cobblepot stood near the bar, his fingers gracefully tracing the rim of a crystal glass filled with a deep amber liquid as he surveyed the empty room, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark gaze. It was late—late enough that the usual patrons had long since retreated into the night, leaving only the echoes of their raucous laughter and flirtatious whispers to linger in the air like a distant memory.
But it wasn’t the quiet that held Oswald’s attention captive. No, it was Victor.
Victor Aguilar had been distant lately, a silent defiance quietly brooding in the depths of the younger man’s eyes each time their gazes intersected. It was in the subtle, almost imperceptible way he sidestepped Oswald’s once-unchallenged commands, the air of rebellion that enveloped him like a shroud, making Oswald’s blood simmer with a mix of irritation and disbelief. Victor had always been obedient—at least that was the narrative Oswald had rehearsed in his mind. But now, it felt as if Victor was slipping through his fingers, like grains of sand in an hourglass, and Oswald could hardly bear the thought of losing his grasp.
And he couldn’t allow that to happen.
He turned sharply at the faint sound of footsteps approaching, his body tense with anticipation. Victor materialized at the doorway, his expression a carefully crafted mask of neutrality, but Oswald's keen eyes caught the flicker of uncertainty shining in those dark irises. The younger man had not braved this confrontation willingly; rather, the palpable tension between them crackled like electricity, a storm brewing on the horizon of their fraught relationship.
Victor had been evading him for days, perhaps even longer, darting around their usual encounters like a moth evading a flame.
“You’re late,” Oswald remarked smoothly, his voice laced with a quiet venom that only Victor could discern.
“I wasn’t aware I was on a schedule,” Victor replied coldly, a hint of defiance coloring his tone, and the dismissive flicker of his gaze told Oswald all he needed to know about Victor’s restless spirit.
Oswald’s lips curled into a knowing smile, one that barely reached his dispassionate eyes. He took a slow, deliberate sip from his glass, savoring the flavor and the moment, before setting it down on the bar with a soft click. His dark gaze remained fixated on Victor as he began to circle around the room with an air of predatory grace. There was a hunger within him, a need to reclaim what he felt was being taken away.
“I’ve let you get away with a lot, Victor,” Oswald said softly, his voice draped in an almost seductive gentleness. “But you seem to forget your place sometimes. You think you can walk away from me? Think you can slip from under my control?”
Victor’s lips parted to retort, but Oswald was faster, his instincts honed from years of navigating the treacherous waters of Gotham. Before Victor could respond, Oswald closed the distance between them, his movements fluid and deliberate.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Oswald said, his tone mingling amusement with something darker, something foreboding. His hand lifted, fingertip grazing Victor’s chin, tilting it gently yet insistently, forcing the younger man to meet his unwavering gaze.
Victor’s heart skipped a beat as he found himself ensnared in the depth of Oswald’s gaze, something profound and powerful coiling in the air between them. There was no escaping the grip Oswald had on him—physically, emotionally, psychologically—like a spider weaving its web. He had tried to break free; he had tried to resist. But Oswald was always there, a constant shadow lurking in the corners of his mind.
Victor’s breath hitched as he pulled back slightly, feeling nerves and frustration race through him in equal measures. “I’m not trying to get rid of you,” he managed to reply, though his voice lacked the confidence he intended to project.
Oswald smirked, the low, sultry chuckle that followed sending shivers down Victor's spine. “Oh, but I’m not trying to get rid of you either, Victor. Not at all.”
As the cool touch of Oswald’s fingers brushed against Victor’s skin, an involuntary shiver ran through him, igniting a spark deep within. Oswald leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from Victor’s ear, the warmth of his breath sending a jolt through Victor’s frazzled senses.
“I have other plans for you,” Oswald murmured, his voice low and possessive—a promise laden with implications. “Plans you won’t be able to escape. Not this time.”
Victor’s chest tightened as dread and anticipation collided violently within him, each pulse of his heart reminding him of the conflict raging inside. He had fought relentlessly to distance himself from the looming specter of Oswald’s power, but it was becoming painfully clear that the harder he struggled, the deeper he sank into the intricate web the Penguin had spun around him.
“I told you,” Oswald continued, his voice dropping even lower, each word dripping with silken menace. “You belong to me. And you will always belong to me. Don’t ever forget that.”
Victor’s heart hammered against his ribs as Oswald’s grip tightened on his chin, forcing him to look up and confront the unwavering intensity of the older man's gaze. There was no escape, no turning back now. Oswald had expertly cornered him, ensnaring him right where he wanted him. And despite the hate that simmered within him for allowing such power over his life, a part of Victor yearned for it—a dizzying need that drove him mad.
“You think you can just walk away, don’t you?” Oswald whispered, his lips brushing tantalizingly close to Victor’s cheek, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of them. “But no, you’re mine, Victor. You’re never going anywhere. And if you try? I’ll make sure you stay exactly where I want you.”
Victor swallowed hard, the weight of Oswald’s promises sinking deep into the recesses of his mind. Each syllable wrapped around him like chains forged of desire and fear, solidifying the walls he had tried to fortify. He had attempted to distance himself, to build barriers, but Oswald’s power, his control—it was an unrelenting force. Oswald was an overwhelming tide, indifferent to Victor's attempts to retreat.
Oswald’s fingers trailed down Victor’s jawline, ghosting across his skin with a sensitivity that made Victor shudder, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. The Penguin’s smirk deepened, an intoxicating cocktail of confidence and satisfaction as he reveled in the effects he had on Victor.
“I can see it in your eyes, Victor,” Oswald declared, his smile knowing and smug. “You crave this, don’t you? You crave my control. And you’ll never escape me.”
Victor’s lips parted, but no words came forth. His body betrayed him, the tension that enveloped them thick and electric, making it hard to breathe. Oswald was right. While a part of him fought against the rising tide, there was an undeniable allure in surrender, a tantalizing draw that whispered of submission and loyalty. He was already caught in Oswald’s web, woven with complex threads of affection and fear. There was no escape—and even more confounding, he realized he didn’t want one.
“Good,” Oswald whispered, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Because you’re mine. And you always will be.”
Victor closed his eyes, the overwhelming weight of Oswald’s words cascading over him. He had tried to break free, to walk away. But Oswald had always been one step ahead, and now, there was no turning back.
Notes:
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, feel free to leave a comment or share your thoughts. I’m always open to taking requests for any ship or prompt, so don’t hesitate to reach out with your ideas. I love creating more dark, twisted, and romantic tales for you all!
Frank and Beth were cute, but it seemed to be awkward and forced. He tries to open up, but it doesn’t quite work out as he still has to lie about what he’s done. He also seems to think about his wife quite a bit, which is understandable she’s probably the first woman he’s been with since Maria. Also, the one liner he delivers about Karen’s speech about loneliness, was just the cherry on the cake. Like, come on bro, that’s not how this works. It’s not that I disliked Frank being with someone, it's just that it made little sense when they placed him with Karen the prior season, and made a huge deal about it. And I get it was him trying to see if a relationship would actually work, and move on with his life, but it seemed too out of character for him to do something like a ONS. Although Beth is beyond gorgeous, she looks too much like Maria, and that is just disconcerting. The man didn’t even pay attention to her until she asked him over for a night cap, too much, too soon. Get your shit together Marvel. P.S.S. Frank is obviously not a ladies man, he’s a one and done. Too cute! It’s a ONS, Frankie Boy, you don’t have to adopt the whole fam bam.
P.S.S.S Can’t lie the sex scenes were hot. I had a feeling Frank got down, but damn! 🙀
