#the best revenge is living and doing shit out of spite

[joelsdagger]

i’ve made and deleted this post quite a few times over the last couple of days. and at first, i wasn’t going to say anything because this doesn’t even cover what i wanted to say by even a little, but ultimately, seeing a few others make similar posts encouraged me, and i really just need to get this off my chest, and if it resonates with one person, then i’m happy. this is not coherent at all, but like many, my brain is mush, so forgive me, and here we go...

as a (closeted) queer palestinian american woman, a daughter to immigrant parents, living in a fairly conservative state, i’m fucking terrified. i don’t have faith my rights are protected here. i don’t have faith that my parents and my sisters will be safe every time they step out of the house (in true typical arab fashion; i am white passing, they are not). my family has been targeted and met with violence numerous times since october of last year, and it's only going to get worse. which brings me to my next point.

i also don’t have faith that the genocide in gaza (that has now expanded to south lebanon and syria) is coming to an end, an end where palestinians can live and thrive in their native land anytime soon. and seeing people turn on us — so fast, spewing hate in saying “fuck palestine”, “fuck boycotting” and “you don’t care about my rights, so i don’t care about yours,” is incredibly saddening, disappointing, and infuriating. my grief, anger, and anxiety are at their peak and have been at their peak for well over a year now. and i don't have the brain capacity to say what i really want to say about the hatred and misplaced anger being directed towards arabs, but for now i will say this: 

now is not the time to turn on one another. now is not the time for infighting within marginalized groups. now is not the time to be selfish. to care about yourselves and not others, makes you no better than them. that is why this country is so divisive in the first place. that is how we got here. having that mentality — that ideology is dangerous and destructive. you are doing the work for white supremacists. you are perpetuating white supremacy. and it isn’t going to serve any of us because essentially our struggles as oppressed groups are deeply interconnected. we need to look out for one another. take care of one another. it will get worse before it gets better. and we’re only at the tip of the iceberg.

the fight isn’t over; we’re just getting started. and i know you’re tired; i, for one, am at my breaking point. but we cannot let them win. so let yourself feel whatever it is you need to feel right now: grief, anger, sadness, hurt, whatever it is; it's all valid, and believe me, you are not alone. take the time to feel it. and then let it fuel you and your ambitions.

i also want to reiterate that this is a safe space for all. except anyone who believes trump is a good man and voted for that racist, fascist, rapist piece of shit. y’all can fuck right off. the rest of you: disabled people, chronically ill people, queer people, aro-ace people (i’m specifically pointing you out because i know how we're treated in queer spaces, and it is not fair nor is it right), trans people, women, people of color, sexual assault survivors — if you're reading this and you're unsure of your place, please stay. i need you. i care about you. this place and this world are better with you in it. you are welcome here. you are safe here.

i’ll be here for anyone who needs it, whether it’s to chat about silly little fandom things — it’s imperative we protect this space and continue to encourage the creation of art around here. it’s imperative we stop normalizing the censorship and policing of fandom spaces (because that's another reason how we got here). fandom spaces are communities, and very often they are the only spaces where people feel safe. for most (myself included), it’s all we have left — or whether you want to vent about how much you hate the state of the world — you'll always have a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on in this tiny little nook here. seriously. my inbox and dm's are always open. 

hold each other close. protect one another. the only way we’re going to get through this is if we stand together and continue putting in the work, because it’s times like this when the real work begins.

i’m sending you all so so much love. forever and always.

noelle xx

[born-to-lose]

I love being the always single person in my family, mad respect to my sister for constantly dating guys for the last 8 years, I would have shot myself

[deathbxnny]

HEHEHEHEH HELLO AGAIN BXXNY!!!

I am so obsessed with this man even if he doesn't do big pp DMG and I have no idea how to use him he's still on my team (with Yelan Klee and Zhongli)

ANYWAYS!! Kinich with a girlfriend that's like his childhood best friend, both pretty obsessed with each other tbh, but Ajaw is a little shit that loves making Kinich's life hell, so he acts all sweet with reader, always crying crocodile tears to her and just sucking up to her, basking in all the attention and cuddles she gives him while making sure to paint Kinich in a bad light.

Of course reader knows Ajaw's little plan... but she does love seeing Kinich so frustrated, so she always agrees with Ajaw... I'll leave the rest to you!

(I'm so happy to get this other idea out you have no idea)

Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. | Kinich x Fem!Reader feat. Ajaw

I want to kiss your brain, dear moot!! Your idea is so good, I could eat it for dinner rn!!<33

Content: Jealous Kinich, established relationship, Ajaw being a menace as usual, fluff, kinda unserious, sfw

Reader is asked to be fem/afab!

((Not proofread))

Ajaw was always determined to make Kinich's life a living hell out pure of spite. Nothing else brought him so much joy, and therefore, he used all his free times to scheme and plan his next evil shenanigans against him. It wasn't an easy thing to do by no means, though, since the man was often unbothered and indifferent by his presence, going so far as to banish the dragon lord at times to get rid of him momentarily.

But all of his hard work became a lot lighter when you and Kinich finally became a couple after years of being "just friends". The dragon lord saw his golden opportunity for the perfect revenge, one he achieved through your kind, unsuspecting heart and kindness towards him.

To you, Ajaw could do no wrong. No matter what it was, you often took his side when he whined and gave you those perfectly teary eyes whilst accusing Kinich of being mean to HIM. That produced much better results than anything the dragon lord could've ever planned, and it brought him indescribable joy to see his dear companions visible annoyance.

Now, you ofcourse were very much aware of Ajaw's silly, evil plans, but seeing your boyfriend so easily angered and jealous at the attention you gave the menace of a creature he was stuck with, was unfortunately too cute to pass up. Of course, you'd make it up to him with gentle kisses and cuddle sessions... but until then, you played along.

Whenever Ajaw came flying to you out of "fear", after Kinich "threatened" to put him in time-out again, you'd coo at his plight and pat him on the head, a playful and sympathetic pout in your lips that ticked your boyfriend off.

At times, he'd even interrupt your time together during dates, demanding attention in the most dramatic ways possible, knowing how jealous it made the man who was very much obsessed with you. He could never be angry at you, but Ajaw was not spared from his wrath. He tried to stay calm and remind himself that it was all just to get a reaction out of him, but it was hard when he was close to reaching over and strangling him.

You eventually had to stop your games to calm him down and remind him that it was all indeed just playful banter... especially after Ajaw received the darkest glare known to man, when he attempted to ruin another date with you.

The allmighty dragon lord miraculously stopped his plans for a while, mainly because he suddenly didn't feel like facing your loving boyfriend's wrath after all...

[m4vestu]

Gingerbread Man - C. Sturniolo

-blurb sortaᥫ᭡

a/n: I've had this little idea for days now and I kinda hate it now but I wanted to put something cute out soon so enjoy!!

warning: not proofread

You had spent many Christmas Eves in the Sturniolo household, but this year was the first as Chris's girlfriend.

"Ma, wake up." You'd been fast asleep in Chris's room for hours before he barged in. "if you don't get up I'm gonna get trev in here to... pee on you." Chris was joking but he at least thought it would be enough to trick his girlfriend into waking up.

"what do you want Christopher" you managed to giggle out, being half asleep and all.

"Matt, Nick, and I are doing a last-minute gingerbread house-making challenge, and I want my baby on my team," Chris said that last part in hopes of persuading you to get up. You opened your eyes a bit more to see him walking over with Trevor in hand. He placed the dog on the bed in front of you and gave him a little nudge. "on the count of three, trev, just like we practiced."

You looked at them both in confusion, unknowing to what was to come.

"three...two... ONE!" Chris and Trevor both sent kisses all around your face until you were a giggling mess. "OK OK, -I'M UP, GUYS -STOP IT."

Chris pulls away and twirls out of the bedroom happy his little plan worked. You get up, throw on one of Chris's hoodies that lied on the floor, fixed your hair a bit and the mirror, scooped up Trevor off the bed, and made your way into the kitchen with the boys.

____________

"Chris!! the roof is slipping oh my god!" It was a battle between you and Chris versus Matt and Nick to see who could make the best-looking gingerbread house while one member of each team was blindfolded.

"It a little hard to keep the roof up when I can't see, baby" Chris tried over and over to glue everything and keep it together without falling before the timer runs out.

"okay we wont have a lot of time, so let's just decorate the outside." you handed Chris the piping bag with the pink icing inside and guide his hand to start drawing windows on the side of the house.

"I just have a feeling yours and Chris's house looks like shit right now" Nick yelled from the other side of the counter.

"I actually CAN see and let me just say you and Matt aren't looking so hot right now" You were quick to throw an insult back as this was natural to you after all these years.

"Bro what are you talking about right now, chris got y'all house lookin' like something diseased."

Before you could respond back to Matt's remark, Chris slathered a large swipe of icing across your face. You stand there in utter shock at what Chris had just done. He and Matt burst out in uncontrollable laughter, not seeing it coming.

"STOP what did I miss guys, I cannot stand both of you" Nick shouts unaware as to what's happening.

"no fucking way." you grab the other piping bag off the table and get ready to pour it all over Chris. Just as you are about to get him back, Chris throws his blindfold off and runs down to the living room.

You start running after him "I'm gonna fucking kill you" you say, ready for revenge.

"cant catch me ma, I'm the gingerbread man," he says now running circles around the coffee table while you tried to nag him.

Just after saying this, he tripped over one of trevors toys and right onto the couch. You took this as your chance and straddled his waist to assure he doesn't get back up.

Now that you've got him right where you want him, you pour icing all over his face out of revenge and spite. he reaches out to your sides and starts tickling mercilessly. Unable to keep in your laughter, you surrender and Chris wipes the icing off his face with his shirt.

With you still on top of him, he can't help but pull you into a kiss. You grab his face and deepen into the kiss, still giggling into his lips.

"You're a shit gingerbread man Chris," you say before going right back into the kiss.

He pulls away ready to say his snark remark before a pillow hits you both. You both turn in the direction the pillow seemed to come, seeing Matt and Nick looking back in disgust

"Can you freaks get up so we can finish the video please"

────୨ৎ────

[do-you-ship-this-comic-ship]

propaganda:

THE canon comic book couple OF ALL TIME. They are SUPERVILLAINS. they are FRENCH. They are QUEER. They are a SUPER INTELLIGENT GORILLA and A LIVING BRAIN IN A JAR. They have both died multiple times, yet have inexplicably come back with zero explanation, thereby making them canonically immune to the burry your gays trope. They have historic beef with a group of ACTUAL TEENAGERS. Oh yeah, and did I mention they are A GORILLA AND A BRAIN. They are the embodiment of how batshit insane superhero comic book lore can get in the best way possible. 

Basically, their backstory is Brain was once a human scientist who took a wild silverback gorilla and raised his IQ to 178 with the power of mad science experiments, originally planning on implanting his own brain into Mallah’s body. But seeing how intelligent Mallah became and becoming attached to him, the scientist couldn’t bring himself to go through with the experiment, instead making Mallah his lab assistant. Then the scientist gets his body burnt to a crisp in a lab “accident”, which may or may not have been orchestrated by his rival, Niles Caulder (and tbh thats probably the case considering the other shady shit The Chief’s done but that’s another can of worms entirely), and Mallah saved him by transferring his brain to a jar-like life support vessel. Thus starting the scientist now known simply as The Brain’s mission to get revenge on Caulder and take over the world, becoming an arch villain to the Chief’s team the Doom Patrol and later the Teen Titans. Mallah and Brain would pretty much be your basic henchman and villain duo for most of thier existence… UNTIL Grant Morrison’s Doom Patrol run in the early 90s, where after stealing one of Doom Patrol member’s Robotman’s spare robot bodies, Brain and Mallah confesss thier love for eachother, sharing a kiss… before the robot body housing Brain explodes and kills them both.  

Don’t worry though, they got better.  

What I find most insane about Mallah and Brain, you know, apart from the fact one of them is a whole ass gorilla and the other is just a brain in a jar. And the fact Grant Morrison and other writers not only had the sheer audacity to make such a bonkers and strangely disturbing couple canon, but stick with it being so, is that fact that their relationship is… genuinely compelling??  

Like, there are so many stories where their motivation is just getting brain necessities like a new body. Because he longs to feel simple sensations again like being able to smell flowers or drink tea (and also fuck nasty with Mallah, as he deserves). And Mallah is 100% ride or die for Brain and does everything in his power to help him. From trying to break him out of a prison ship while fighting superheroes Apollo and Midnighter, to the aforementioned finding him a new body, to kidnapping an orchestra to play for Brain because the tickets to thier show were sold out and felt bad about not getting brain tickets. More often than not, especially with the body stuff, its foiled or tragically backfires, but Mallah never stops trying to give his partner a better life and make him happy. Even if it means them both being doomed in some way. It’s both bizarre yet compellingly tragic and oddly beautiful.  

Plus there are a ton of smaller moments between them, like their old married couple energy bickering, Brain venting to Mallah about how no-one in the hero or villain community takes them seriously, to them chillin’ in bed together having a philosophical debate over what kind of dancer god would be. 

 In spite of how bat shit insane their relationship is, and all the evil things they’ve done as villains, you can’t help but be endeared by them and low key kinda root for them. 

Even though in the main line comics, brain and Mallah are broken up as of the latest Unstoppable Doom Patrol run, with brain dead (thanks to Mallah betraying and murdering him) and Mallah going off to do his own thing by taking over a city with the other villainous DC apes in the Ape-ril Special one shot (which I mean tbh good for him), someone at DC seems to have as much of a soft spot for these two as much as I do. Since they’ve appeared as a couple in other recent DC continuities/adaptations, such as the Peacemaker Tires Hard miniseries and, of course, My Adventures With Superman. Which I am more than happy about.  

Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand why most people wouldn’t be a fan of Brain and Mallah and their ship for… several reasons. But come on man! It’s a French Gorilla and a Brain in a jar who are supervillains and madly in love! How can you stay mad at a canon queer ship that delightfully bonkers!? 

[vladdyissues]

hey speaking of giving them good things out of pure seething spite

assorted badger cereal AND cheese melt fluff?

-reveal gone wrong. Fentons are supportive, but reveal happened in front of GiW, which means government agents now have his identity linked to a ghost caught on camera causing mayhem and destruction. don't matter how ultimately ineffectual OR competent you make them, Danny Fenton's in deep shit now.

-but hey, Vlad's got himself some connections! Danny Fenton disappears. Daniel Masters appears. Big bro to Danielle Masters, yes he's always existed, of course he's not Danny Fenton, Phantom is still appearing in Amity Park, there'd have to be a portal in Wisconsin to pull that off.

-Danny expects to feel isolated. Instead? Gets to have extended ghost family like his new gremlin little sister, gets to have a home schooling experience that means he isn't pressured to keep a schedule broken by ghost attacks, gets to visit through the FentonWorks lab regularly.

-And Vlad seems to have chilled the entire fuck out with two half-ghost kids to Obsess over parenting.

-although if he's going to live in this house Danny is damn well going to learn to make his own ghost-tech and learn the value of an honest day's mad science.

-(Vlad didn't bust his ass learning to solder at a professional level for a field of technology so experimental no one credible believes it exists just so Danny could get desparate and use tech as a projectile)

-and it's really nice having lab safety respected so the food doesn't reanimate.

-and he can just use his powers whenever, however.

-huh. with homeschooling getting easier all the time, maybe he could take up a sport? you don't need to attend a school full time to do that, right...?

-best revenge is living well. Or in this case, enabling such for a kid who just says the saddest things about his home life without realizing

-seriously it makes Vlad go "mine nao" on a deep, irrevocable scale.

-also fucking no one believes Daniel Masters is Danny Fenton because they've a: met his little sister, and b: seen them interact. you're saying these two didn't have the same parents and grow up around each other? (And the fun thing is: technically, Dani being a clone means BOTH of those are true!)

-something something "what do you mean I qualify for scholarships?!" + realization he's actually smart he was just being forced to triple shift his life and it was the worst thing he could have possibly done

I am the biggest sucker for Danny unexpectedly thriving under Vlad's care due to having all of the opportunities and special attention that come with being filthy stinking rich. (That's basically what I'm doing in Familiar.) But having a place where he finally feels comfortable being himself and having people he can relate to? Priceless.

his new gremlin little sister

Can you imagine how awesome Danny is going to feel when it finally clicks that he's not the youngest child anymore? That he's a "big brother"? I think he'd be over the moon. (Mostly. I've heard stories of little sisters.)

an honest day's mad science

ALSKDJHFLAKJSHDFLAKJSDHF Vlad inadvertently switching on Danny's dormant mad scientist gene by demonstrating how to Science Correctly while observing proper safety protocol and making it look really fun and cool—something his parents always wanted but never managed to do—is delicious. Two helpings, please. Heap it on 🍽

[acepalindrome]

My shitty old Christmas tree that ive had for ages finally got too old and jacked up to justify hanging onto any longer, so I threw it out after last year. I’ve been meaning to buy a new one, but just haven’t gotten around to it.

After everything that happened, I was thinking I just wouldn’t bother. I don’t want to decorate. I live alone, so putting up a Christmas tree is for my own benefit only. And I feel like shit and don’t want to do anything.

But then I thought. I don’t want that motherfucker to stop me from doing anything. It feels like I’m letting him get one more thing over me. The best revenge is living, and living well. So fuck you, I’m buying that Christmas tree, and I’m going to decorate my fucking house and have a holly fucking jolly Christmas. I will enjoy myself, fueled by rage and spite.

[sapphire-weapon]

On the topic of Leon actually making it through the training and being something of an anomaly because of it, what do you think it is that makes him so "special" in that way? If it's luck, natural athleticism BS, or something else? Interested in hearing your thoughts

The answer is simple, Benedikta. He was fighting for something he believed in.

It really can't be understated that so much of human physical capability is born from mental focus/clarity/mastery. "Mind over matter" is a very real thing.

A vast majority of people who enlist in the armed services in the US do so because they're from a military family and they're expected to and/or because they can't afford college on their own and/or they're just from a poor family in general and living away from home on the government's dollar is the best option for them and/or because they've been kicked out of their parents' house and are facing down homelessness.

Leon is none of those.

Leon isn't using the military as a means to an end of providing for himself/his family. It's not a choice he made in an attempt to see if it'll work out and is just kind of hoping for the best.

Following the destruction of his innocence in Raccoon City, Leon no longer cares about institutions or hierarchies of power. Leon cares about people. Period. They're all that matter to him, they're the only things that are important.

And so Leon hangs in there and forces himself through the other side of years of literal physical torture because there's a little girl sitting in a blank room somewhere who will die if he doesn't.

Pile that on top of all of the trauma of not having been able to save literally anyone else in Raccoon City and the desperation to at least save this one life who is wholly dependent on him, and you have a really potent and powerful motivator to keep pushing through to the end.

Leon also hangs in there, to some degree, out of pure spite. After everything he's been through and all of the shit he's seen, there's some part of him that's determined to survive just to piss off the people who wanted him dead. Yes, yes, Leon is a soft boi who loves people and all that shit -- but he's also kind of an asshole who is absolutely not above petty revenge. It's not that he wants to win, it's that he wants Umbrella to lose.

The reality is that there's nothing special about Leon physically -- no more than any other top-performing soldier in the armed forces. Making it through to the end of his training is a testament not to his physical abilities, but rather to the strength of his character and the fixed position of his moral center.

This is why it's so important for Ada to see and point out in RE4make that the old Leon is still alive inside those thick, stone walls he's put up in the last six years -- and why it's so important that Ashley brings that gentle kindness in him back to the surface over the course of the game.

Leon is dangerous not because he possesses superhuman strength. Leon is dangerous because he possesses the capability to love more deeply than most anyone else to have ever stepped onto a battlefield, he has a truly self-sacrificing and altruistic nature, and he's got a lot of anger pent up inside of him that's sourced primarily from those two things. He was able to figure out a way to use and weaponize that anger to complement the physical combat training he went through.

Krauser thought that Leon's "softness" was a weakness -- but the truth is that Leon's softness is his greatest strength.

Alongside his pettiness.

Spite's a really powerful motivator, dude.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

"The best revenge..."

...is living and eating WELL while (and in spite of) living in poverty.

I actually had the gumption to try and have a cafe 30 or so years ago, and I live with a guy who had his own bakery: a Danish-trained Chef currently working as a Sous Chef at a big hotel in The City, and his 21 yr old son (who has literally been an assistant sous chef to his dad his whole life).

We're all barely afloat, his son is looking for his first real job-job "out there", and getting discouraged. Y'all hear regularly about my poverty status, and my roomie chef is doin' as much as he can, and we're all three freakin' broke.

Fuck it. We may be broke, but we are are gonna Eat as best we can with what we got. So to the current example.

Yes, I know how to cook Mexican Food like any native ex-south-texan worth his salt and lime. Yes I learned how mama/grandma did it, either mine or someone else's.

Roomie and I are carnivores, son is veg. We all agree that Mexican Food is good, so I'm always looking for how to spend my "old-fuck-on-food-stamps EBT the best way.

Behold, Example 1: 20 lb. bag of dried pinto beans.

20 lbs for $17. And lookee there: it's Fiesta, no stranger to this former Austinite. And anyone who knows knows that this boy knows how to make a pot o'pintos, with/without carnivorousness. Keep 'em on the stove long enough you got Refrieds.

Somebody at Groce-Out is from Texas, gotta be: They have Velveeta and Rotel (for QUESO!) at near-normal prices! I laughed today. Velveeta was 6.99 at Groce-Out, and I shit you not, $14.95 at Lucky.

Got that along with a couple 2-lb bags of their "Hollis Street" whole bean French Roast (Dark) for $11.95 ea. This is surprisingly good coffee beanage, freshly roasted right up the road in Emeryville, evidently. So good coffee for cheap. A similar brand at the 'non discount' grocery store I go to is $21 for a 2lb bag.

While they aren't the winner in the coffee bean competition, Lucky (the non-discount store) is great for meat, especially mid-week, when they have lots of specials. Their "megapaks" of chicken thighs (10/pkg) were buy one get one free. So for ten bucks, I got 20 thighs (over 7lbs), which, when roasted with lots of salt and pepper, and cooled and shredded and deboned become something like 4 pounds of Chicken Enchilada Meat. For ten bucks.

Tomorrow I go to another discount store closeby roomie told me about that has the best commercial Hatch Chile in a jar I have ever found. Tastes like mine, when we would get a case at a time at Central Market, get 'em roasted in the parking lot, and take 'em home and shuck most of the the skins/seeds, and saute onion and garlic and add. In. A. Fucking. Jar.

So you see where this is heading.

We will be having a TexMex Enchilada/taco Feast that can be repeated at will until we've eaten/given enough away. Freezer. Vacuum sealer. Oooooooom.

And yeah, we got the dessert thing covered. I buy flour, the three sugars, butter, real cream, good organic milk, good brown eggs. I bake everything from fucking scratch. I buy berries and grapes as my main fruit. I don't buy a lot of processed ANYTHING. I buy ingredients. And bread/tortillas, obvs. And I'm happy I have the "card" that gives me my eeked-out apportionment of "food funds".

So that old adage of "The Best Revenge" being "living well" means we may be fucking poor, but goddammit, we are gonna Eat, with a capital E if I have anything to say about it.

All three of us are pretty much clinging to the same leaky life-raft, this accursed but oh-so-necessary apartment, not much overlap in our lives/diets/schedules, but every once in awhile I get to go back into "restaurant mode" and do up a Massive Feed. Share with the neighbors and stock the freezer.

And a pot of beans on the stove in perpetuity.

[kariachi]

Random: Kwarrel’s religion has a sort of archetypal ‘jealously will doom you/avenging lost kin/wrath of the motherfather/gods helping mortals with revenge’ story.

The story of Jehir speaks of a proper husband and father- handsome, loyal, patient, humble, so on and so forth. Jehir is married to a bevy of sisters (how many varies) each of whom he has at least one child with, and lives with them and his in-laws.

Now Jehir’s household is sort’ve ‘the Joneses’ of ‘keeping up with’ fame for their herd. Jehir is a the handsomest and most proper of the men in the herd (with only his father-in-law coming close, but he’s far too humble to place himself above the man in anything), his wives are all beautiful, strong, and skilled in various areas, and his children are all the largest, healthiest, and best behaved among the herd. They have their flaws (one wife has a temper, one child is prone to forgetfulness, etc) but they seem just about perfect. As a result, as time goes on the rest of the herd becomes jealous and spiteful, eventually hateful towards the household, coming to a head when one of Jehir’s children accidentally shows up the herd matriarch’s favorite great-granddaughter.

That night, feeling a mite ill, Jehir goes to the house’s central courtyard to sleep (readers may remember that traditional pre-big-city style homes are one story with a courtyard only accessible via the men’s bedroom). This goes well, until he’s woken in the middle of the night by screaming and the smell of smoke. The small, unwitting insult was the final straw for the spiteful, jealous matriarch, and the rest of the herd had inflated the household’s ‘crimes’ enough by this point that when she had various women of the herd gather and march on their own cousins nobody really questioned it. Jehir finds the door is blocked or has been locked when he tries to rush in and help his family, and so is stuck trapped in the courtyard, forced to listen to the battle and try to shield himself from the heat and smoke of his burning home. With no other recourse, he prays to The Finest for guidance.

Now, The Finest is many things, but above all he’s the god over and paragon of husbands and fathers. Married life and parenthood are his Biggest Deal, and the only deity nearly as focused on family and healthy families is The Sun- whose whole part of the creation myth is being mother to the first goddesses and being their top supporter, advisor, and wingwoman in getting them happily married. So, the god of parenthood and family, unsurprisingly, is less than pleased when a desperate prayer reaches him about a man’s new herd killing his wives, in-laws, and children as he prayed.

Fun Fact: This is also one of only a few stories where The Finest shows any sort of temper, and the only one that doesn’t involve threat to his own loved ones.

The Finest, filled with the sort of fury you can only get from a deity whose realm is being fucked with who is also The Parent hearing about kids being murdered, storms directly to the first of his wives he can find- coincidentally the one who bore his first child/children, generally either the goddess of fire or the goddess of storms- and demands she do something about this.

The next morning, Jehir finds that he is, in fact, still alive. Not only is he still alive, but in the process of burning itself out the fire has done enough damage he can get to door into the house open again. He walks inside and is horrified to see the corpse of his father-in-law, then his mother-in-laws and wives, but it’s when he comes across the body of his youngest child that he loses his fucking shit. And this is when we learn that, at the behest of The Finest, Jehir has been granted a fragment of deific elemental power, so that he may avenge his household.

Which he does.

Very very well.

Not only does he wipe out the herd down to every last molecule of the jealous bastards, but The Finest sends three of his own daughters (goddesses over new growth, freshwater springs, and ‘weeds/pests’ (treated more as over hardy things and survivalism, very popular after disasters and such) respectively) to help him and keep him company until he can find a new home. In all takes of the story he eventually remarries- sometimes to the goddesses who helped him and sometimes to a family of mortal women- proceeding to name his children after his deceased in-laws and then deceased wives, with his daughters naming their children after their deceased siblings.

And that, children, is why we don’t commit familicide even if it’s as a family, why we try to head off jealousy before it can destroy us, and why many name their children after dead relatives and why it’s done in a vague order of priority.

[consciousgrowth]

I don't know what to do. I think my neighbor just retaliated jerked off. I just finished doing my nightly wank before bed, and I hear my neighbor through the walls, get out of bed and jerk off. For context, my bed is right against his wall, directly next to his computer. Is he doing it to spite me? Is it a revenge thing? Is it a call out like "dude we can always tell when you jerk off type of thing?

Bro I live alone. I should be able to jerk off whenever I want. Do you want me to start keeping tabs on my neighbors to schedule the best time to masturbate? Why are you listening so closely to me? I try to be as silent as I can be doing that. I'm not out here moaning and slapping my shit really loud not caring who hears. Other than not jerk off, what do you want me to do?

Do you want to knock on your door and confront you? Do you think I'm trying to instigate you? No dude, I'm just trying to deal with my sex addiction in as healthy a way I'm willing to do right now. I'm not out spending rent money fucking whores, I'm cumming by myself in the privacy of my own home as quiet as I can be. If that's not enough for you, I don't know what to say.

Maybe come over and we can do it together. I'd be down, hash it out like the Greeks and Romans.

[death-breeds-wisdom]

Alr buckle in this will get long

1. Family matters

Izzy lost contact with his family at age 13/14 and doesn't really miss them that much. He does miss his aunt, from who he ran away as to not danger her.

Hedry loves and misses her family every day. She calls them when she gets the chance and plans to go see them at one point.

Julia literally fucking faked his death to run away from his mother and brother. He never knew his dad. Safe to say he rejects them wholly

Roz is deeply disappointed in her dad and step mom, however she did wish to reconnect/reconcile with them until

Mika fucking killed their dad. He inherited their dad's anger and mother's need for revenge.

Cail was raised by their grandparents and loves them dearly

2. Beliefs

Julia is extremely religious, but does not show it publicly.

Izzy believes in fate because he does not want to admit that he is responsible for his own life.

Hedry's core belief system revolves around the strength in numbers.

Roz believes in loyalty as the best virtue.

Mika is also loyal, but only to certain few who have proven to be trustworthy. Aka pretty much only cail.

Cail doesn't give two shits about anything, they just like to fuck around and find out.

3. Motivation

Izzy just wants to belong and accepted as he is, due to being used and rejected so often

Julia wants to follow the teachings of his god, but his other, more selfish motivation is to own and be owned.

Hedry wants to belong, because she grew up in a tight-knit community and wants to rebuild her life the same way as a way to atone for her sins.

Roz wants loyalty and to be loyal. While Izzy hops from person to person, she wants to devote herself. However she also craves change, because the current world is not a world she can have a stable life in.

Mika's motivation is growing old and living a quiet life as a way to honour those like him who couldn't and to spite those who think he shouldn't.

Cail wants to have fun, because it's all temporary

4. Who were they meant to become vs who are they becoming

Julia was raised to be a pious man. He is becoming a sadomasochistic addict, who is also a religious maniac.

Izzy wasn't really parented. In a bittersweet irony he is becoming who he was meant to become, considering his homelife.

Hedry was raised to be a healthy and balanced working class woman. In the meanwhile she got lost and became invested with the Canines instead.

Roz was raised to be a mother, a homewife. She became an anarchist punk lesbian, who is devoted like a knight and who beats people up for a living

Mika was raised much like her sister. He became a resentful and quiet nerd.

Cail was meant to become a university student. They became a vessel for the 4th dimension.

5. Future plans

Izzy plans to kill himself in a double murder-suicide with Julia. Other than that he's just hanging around.

See above for Julia^

Hedry wants to either go back to Manfort Isle or stay with the people she's found.

Roz wants to help create a world where she can live a meaningful life in the city.

Mika plans to grow old by the sea and go insane about fish, hemingway style.

See above for Cail^ they'll go where Mika goes.

6. Self esteem

Julia views himself as above and lesser than everyone simultaneously. He thinks himself as a follower of his god, therefore holier and more worthy than the heathens around him, but also as a pitiful tar pit. This means there is a quiet arrogance in his attitude and a non chalant sadness in his words. He definitely pities himself

Izzy thinks he deserves everything that happened to him. So he let's it happen.

Hedry tries to forgive herself for her actions, but can't so she subconsciously decided, that they were justified. She may let people off the hook a bit too easy because of that, because she fears judgement for her past.

Roz believes she is a cog in the machine and thus willing to do her part. She has enough self respect to not stay with Hedry until the end.

Mika thinks he didn't deserve any of what happened to him, so he either gets revenge or ruminates on it, keeps the flame alive. He always has verbal ammo ready in fights.

Cail knows themself to be unique, but doesn't care about that. They reject responsibility so they hide from it.

7. How they feel about things they can't control

Julia- as if it were God's doing and therefore intentional

Izzy believes that everything is out of his control so he just suffers

Hedry tries to convince herself that it's fine and that there's nothing she could've done.

Roz refuses to accept such a fact.

Mika decided to control the things he can't, even just mentally.

Cail knows they can control it, but they won't.

basic things you should know about your main characters

how is their relationship with their family

what are their beliefs, if they have any

what is their motivation (preferably something unrelated to their love interest/romantic feelings)

who were they raised to be vs. who they became/are becoming

what are their plans for the future, if they have any

how they feel about themselves and how it affects their behaviour

how do they feel about things they cannot control

and last but not least: Why is This Character the Protagonist??

[agonycrossbow]

It really can't be understated that so much of human physical capability is born from mental focus/clarity/mastery. "Mind over matter" is a very real thing.

A vast majority of people who enlist in the armed services in the US do so because they're from a military family and they're expected to and/or because they can't afford college on their own and/or they're just from a poor family in general and living away from home on the government's dollar is the best option for them and/or because they've been kicked out of their parents' house and are facing down homelessness.

Leon is none of those.

Leon isn't using the military as a means to an end of providing for himself/his family. It's not a choice he made in an attempt to see if it'll work out and is just kind of hoping for the best.

Following the destruction of his innocence in Raccoon City, Leon no longer cares about institutions or hierarchies of power. Leon cares about people. Period. They're all that matter to him, they're the only things that are important.

And so Leon hangs in there and forces himself through the other side of years of literal physical torture because there's a little girl sitting in a blank room somewhere who will die if he doesn't.

Pile that on top of all of the trauma of not having been able to save literally anyone else in Raccoon City and the desperation to at least save this one life who is wholly dependent on him, and you have a really potent and powerful motivator to keep pushing through to the end.

Leon also hangs in there, to some degree, out of pure spite. After everything he's been through and all of the shit he's seen, there's some part of him that's determined to survive just to piss off the people who wanted him dead. Yes, yes, Leon is a soft boi who loves people and all that shit -- but he's also kind of an asshole who is absolutely not above petty revenge. It's not that he wants to win, it's that he wants Umbrella to lose.

The reality is that there's nothing special about Leon physically -- no more than any other top-performing soldier in the armed forces. Making it through to the end of his training is a testament not to his physical abilities, but rather to the strength of his character and the fixed position of his moral center.

This is why it's so important for Ada to see and point out in RE4make that the old Leon is still alive inside those thick, stone walls he's put up in the last six years -- and why it's so important that Ashley brings that gentle kindness in him back to the surface over the course of the game.

Leon is dangerous not because he possesses superhuman strength. Leon is dangerous because he possesses the capability to love more deeply than most anyone else to have ever stepped onto a battlefield, he has a truly self-sacrificing and altruistic nature, and he's got a lot of anger pent up inside of him that's sourced primarily from those two things. He was able to figure out a way to use and weaponize that anger to complement the physical combat training he went through.

Krauser thought that Leon's "softness" was a weakness -- but the truth is that Leon's softness is his greatest strength.

Alongside his pettiness.

Spite's a really powerful motivator, dude.

[aethesfaelibrarae]

So watching the Barbie movie and listening to the El Diablo remix of Fly Away by Teddyloid sparked an epiphany for Ann—

She could have been Panty. Now hear me out,

just as Panty had a mini-arc of not being as much of a hedonistic bitch (for better or worse), Ann could have had that. She's spiteful and pretty, and knows that she's pretty—she just hates when other people use that to justify mistreating her.

She doesn't give a shit about the other victims aside from her and Shiho. This might just be fanon but she definitely gives me the vibes of someone who knew Ryuji, knew him well, and still couldn't do anything for him during the initial Kamoshida incident (him breaking Ryuji's knee and team). She decided against killing Kamoshida not because it'd be right or wrong necessarily but because the only way he can atone, in her eyes, is to suffer.

She has a whip, for crying out loud. That soft, frightened Ann and the sadist who only cares about who she's loyal—who her friends are—they need to co-exist. And in Canon P5, they don't. Ann likes sugar and Shiho and after that, she barely likes modeling or has a want. And that sucks.

Her costume—the perfect embodiment of what makes you feel powerful and sleek—is immediately undercut by having the boys gawk at her while she desperately tries to cover herself. And that's gross. The problem isn't the costume. It's her interaction with the costume.

I wouldn't have as much of a problem with it or really any problem with it, if we leaned into it (also if she weren't pretty much a teenage girl being dropped in the deep end of sexuality) like Juliet from Lollipop Chainsaw or Bayonetta. Those two are peak powerful-sexy and camp as all hell. And I wish that scene felt like it was more about her retaking her narrative. She's not a sexy victim—she's a pissed off girl who happens to be really attractive and sick of it.

And honestly, same. The decision to make her half-Colombian and half-Japanese is because well, I find the "desirable white hafu" boring af and because I'm honestly a lot more familiar with the fetishized attractive person. Ann looks like a curvy gyaru girl (and while I appreciate gyaru girls for what they are and do, it's still kinda weird for racial undertones and whatnot) but isn't one. She's a darker Latina-Japanese woman with curves, family and wants. That is directly at odds with how Kamoshida (patriarchy) would like to have her—a pretty, exotic and rare trophy. Her having cellulite and actually having to get up early and have a routine to look good doesn't fit that. Her at healthiest actually being fat/plus-sized. Her being a human person and actually allowing herself to be seen as human again is part of her arc in my retelling. Her having to live without being Shiho's protector and best friend, without Kamoshida, without as tight a grip on routine sounds like a fun take.

Because as much as I like Ryuji as the heart of the team, Rin and Ann are the leader and second in command here—they're the ones who butt heads the most. They're the perfectionists who have two painfully parallel ideas about justice in the beginning: it's not for me and fuck everyone (except for these very specific people who are mine). Which for Ann broadens into justice is about taking action revenge for those who can't until Futaba's Palace. They butt heads over the type of perfectionism—Ann's about optics and not giving room for anyone to say somethings wrong with their plans, the style of the Thieves while Rin's about tactics, a way in and out, knowing the patrols like the back of their hand, preparing for any mistake. They're both rigid and it's really difficult to call either of them soft in the way that someone who didn't know Haru that well could call her soft and their dynamic is one that needs to be built in a way that truly does require Kindness because both of them are traumatized and have no one they really trust to talk about it with. They're outcasts who watch the warmth of the village through the windows and staunchly refuse to burn it down because hope against hope, maybe one day, someone will let them in.

But back to the Ann and Panty comparison, Panty is a hedonistic apathetic young woman who breaks hearts and kicks ass. Ann could have been a pretty, vain, apathetic, hedonistic, heart breaking ass kicker with a whip who holds grudges and some pretty black and white thinking. Every time someone mentions Kamoshida, she's there to spit on his name. Every Palace owner is evil. Every Palace owner is irredeemable. Everyone who isn't a Phantom Thief is the problem.

Let her get excited about trendy desserts and shoes. Let her love the camera and how she looks in it. If we're going to have Catwoma-sorry, Kittywoman as a comparison make it worth it. Let there be rumors about her being a slut. Let those linger after Kamoshida. Let it be hushed. Let her classmates be envious of the untouchable, inhuman Ann Takamaki and the one mortal she allows to be graced with her presence.

And that scene where she has the breakdown after the phone call with Kamoshida early on?

Not yet. We'll go slow.

I'd have those chips in her armor show after she's voluntarily taken off her mask. Day after day, he visits her and Shiho. Day after day, he calls. Day after day, they either make progress or they don't and no one seems to give a shit about this. No one.

So. She snaps. And this is where her Arcana shines—the Lovers: communication, intimate relationships, trust and the development of personal belief systems—because the Thieves, Ryuji and Rin, catch her. Morgana is Morgana which I'll espouse upon later. They become a team in vulnerability, in trust. Because to me, at the end of the day, mutual vulnerability builds the first bridge. Small victories, small tears, larger payback.

She doesn't kill him because she needs him to confess. She needs to watch the guilt eat at him, watch him ruin his life like he tried to do to hers. (sometimes she wonders if he'd succeeded) (it's a thought that as time goes on, she's able to push more and more out of her head and out of Shiho's too) She doesn't know what that says about her. She doesn't know if she likes it.

But she doesn't hate it.

And I don't know man, isn't that what being in your 20s is sometimes—figuring out what parts of yourself you don't 100% hate and figuring out how to be a person.

TLDR: Ann Takamaki and Barbie gave me more feelings than I expected when I first looked at them when I was younger. I thought I hated them but really with Ann, I felt betrayed by the narrative and this is how I'd fix it. And just like with Barbie, it was all patriarchy and an unfair narrative.

[sepublic]

            The resolution and tragedy of Depth Charge’s arc is so fucked up and sexy, actually… There’s the argument to be made that despite his efforts and attempts to let go of his hatred, to remember the others he fights for, Depth Charge ultimately still succumbs to his revenge in the end; Choosing to prioritize killing Rampage, even at the cost of his own life. How Depth Charge starts the battle explicitly trying to dismiss his arch-nemesis to focus on the greater good of stopping the Nemesis, to culminate his growth and maturity by simply letting go. Openly acknowledging he has greater priorities and little time.

        But it just takes a few taunts from Rampage to rile him up, and suddenly Depth Charge forgets the Maximal mission in favor of his own, killing the bastard. You see how he goes from composed and professionally focused, to angrily falling apart with a flustered and thoughtless “Shut up!!!” towards Rampage’s jeers, unable to think of a cool-headed retort. All of that progress undone after he worked so hard, from just one interaction that fed back into his bad habits and reawakened them. Depth Charge was finally beginning to distance himself from Rampage and find others to interact with, even other enemies... Only to relapse badly.

         Depth Charge’s final words are the most profane, spiteful curse you’ve ever heard, and it doesn’t even use ‘actual’ curse words. He clearly guesses that going in for the kill, instead of ditching Rampage when he’s knocked down and no longer fighting back, will kill him and allow the Nemesis to fly. But Depth Charge goes for it anyway, because what else does he have to live for? When so many have died because of his failure? And Rampage’s laughing triumph, it’s not just for the release of death. It’s the celebration that he’s corrupted his foe, this ‘hero’ seeking justice, and they both die hateful monsters together. Rampage won.

         And, not that he cared much for Megatron’s actions afterwards; But getting him and Depth Charge killed allowed Megatron to reactivate the Nemesis, and destroy Tigerhawk too! As well as Inferno and Quickstrike, and the ship’s later explosion also wiped out Dinobot’s clone. So that’s four, arguably five, more people Rampage took down with him, by appealing to Depth Charge’s rage. Amazing.

        The final cherry on top is the irony of Optimus thinking that explosion, the intimate death of Depth Charge and Rampage, is a sign that Depth Charge won. Not only that he stopped the Nemesis, but that he died a hero, and that his death wasn’t in vain. But in reality, not only is the Nemesis fully active, but all Depth Charge achieved was a pyrrhic victory, dying in hatred that prioritizes itself over others. His ultimate failure, both himself AND Rampage.

        At worst Optimus assumes Depth Charge tried his best and didn’t succeed, but in actuality... They took that secret last fall with each other to the grave. This shit is Shakespearean and not just because Dinobot’s clone was technically involved. Speaking of, you could argue that Depth Charge killing Rampage and freeing him was the right thing to do.

      But you could also argue that Depth Charge should’ve focused on his mission and saved killing Rampage for less pressing circumstances, that wouldn’t have endangered Dinobot 2.0 (or Tigerhawk), since he died anyway. Rampage truly saw Depth Charge and said “I can make him worse” and totally succeeded, even got Depth Charge to get others killed, just like he would!

[alpacinosgf]

MILK AND ROSES CH.7

ALSO ON A03

Rated: Explicit (Rough sex, dirty talk, dumbification???, posessiveness, corruption kink, innocence kink, violence, weapons in the bedroom, cum eating, nipple play (male receiving), bossy Oz hee hee, love confessions)

Word Count: 9.2k

Come Monday, you’re still thinking about that night at the Lounge. And the aftermath. You hadn’t stayed long after the incident in the private room of the 44 Below, Oz maintained he wanted to fuck you right in the luxury of his own bed which you weren’t going to oppose. You had been more than ready to leave the place behind. Oz had held your hand tightly in his own grip as you said quick goodbyes and goodnights to the regulars and staff. He hadn’t bothered to do so for Falcone out of spite, and you were positive he’d end up paying for it somehow. You had never expected the reality of the mafia and criminal underworld to be so…petty? It was like they had never mentally left school. It was an endless cycle of revenge tactics and humiliation mixed in with blood spilling and bone breaking.

You had never seen Oz like he was that night, mean and cruel at the thought of someone disrespecting you. You can still hear the rattle of that man’s skull as it hit the wall and the sight of Oz with a visible urge to cause him more harm than he deserved. Worst of all? You’d never been more turned on before. The whole car ride home you had played with his hand on your thigh, fingers still dancing over his bruised knuckles. You squeezed your thighs together when you saw the dried blood under a passing streetlight or blinking bar sign. You’d nearly asked him to finger you there and then at a red light but you thought against it. He’d never let you live it down. Maybe you’ll have car sex another time.

You’re daydreaming about the way he felt when you got into his place, you were both still fully clothed – minus a few buttons on his shirt before he got too desperate. You’d let out a squeak of laughter when he just sighed heavily and pulled you back in for a heated kiss instead of undressing. The blood spilt earlier was a turn on for him too. He couldn’t remember the last time he had two rounds in him on one night, a welcome surprise for the both of you. The texture of his dress trousers left an almost burn on the back of your thighs from how hard and fast he pounded into you. His hips had barely left yours, all the while he repeated over and over one thing as he cradled your face to his, nose to nose:

“Tell me you’re mine”

You could barely respond with the way he moved roughly against you, a total disconnect from the plea that left his mouth. Hot breath mixing together between moans and gasps as he touched your face. You complied best you could, nodding with fervency before you managed to huff out a strangled yes. You moved your own body against his thrusts, neither of you wanting to draw this out any further. You swear you felt a tear escape your eye when you finally came, the release almost painful in its catharsis. Almost as painful as you were now, still not fully recovered days later. That heat rash on the back of your legs still a nagging ache.

You are broken out of your reverie with a jolt when a hand waves in front of your glazed over eyes.

“Shit, sorry! You just looked a little lost there!” the voice apologised before you turned your head away from your computer to see your co-worker.

“No, no! I was just in my own world there, sorry” you quickly get out, hoping you weren’t red in the face at the memories.

“You’re fine, don’t worry! I was just coming over to see if you were going to the thing Friday?”

A beat passes and your brain still hasn’t caught up from being taken out of reminiscing.

“What thing?”

“The dinner?” she prompts, a small smile on her lips as she waits for the penny to drop.

Instant recognition lights up your face and you nod sheepishly, hoping you don’t look like a total idiot. The work dinner. Your department does a little get together twice a year, one at Christmas and in the middle of summer. You avoided the last one, a little too awkward without a spouse to bring. Nobody ever made you feel out of place for going alone, and you weren’t the only single person but still the others would bring someone.

“Sorry, I guess my brain hasn’t kicked back in after lunch” you apologise but she waves you off, one hand motioning the sorry away as she grips her mug with the other.

“Don’t be! Are you going to bring that guy you were telling me so little about?” she enquires with a lilt at the end of her question. She eyes your reaction while she takes a sip.

“Oh, I don’t know. He works a lot, and a Friday night is pretty busy for him” you try weasel out of it, but she’s onto you.

You try to glance away now. How do you explain your drug lord boyfriend is going to be doing his wheeling and dealings in his front of a club? Still, you don’t want to be difficult. She says nothing, and lets you come to the idea of asking him. She’s too good at that you think.

“I’ll ask him, but he mightn’t be able to come by” you tell her as you pick up your phone. There’s a message from him already asking how your day is. God. He’s sweet.

“You should still come with us anyways; we can go together!”

It snaps you out of your appreciation and you give a sincere nod and thank her before she heads back to her chair. You stare at the floor for a second, making little patterns in the aged carpet while you try formulate a way to ask him out. You start by thanking him and telling him how boring work’s been today – not that he hasn’t heard that everyday the last few months. He’s been hinting that you could always quit your job. God knows you’re making more off him than you do here. But you’ve always batted away his offers, he doesn’t take it personally. Oz just wants you to know you don’t have to stay where you’re unhappy. It’s a sweet gesture you’ve begun to grow accustomed to, but you do enjoy getting out and about and doing something with your day. Even if its mind numbing at times, you have decent co-workers. Most of them anyways.

Though the idea of being his trophy wife is very appealing, you aren’t going to deny the thought hasn’t crossed your mind at night when he’s working. You’d fantasised about it enough times when he brought you out to dinner or surprised you with gifts. It could be so easy. You’ve been trying to figure out your own feelings with Oz. It was initially just a little arrangement, but you think the both of you were using it as a cover. At least you hoped he was too. You take a deep breath to bring you back to reality, no point in stressing out over feelings this very second.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come to a work dinner thing Friday night? My department does this thing every few months and people bring their spouses so I was just curious? I know you’re probably busy with the club ofc so don’t feel you have to or anything!! Hope your day is going okay too btw ♡”

You leave the phone by your computer and try to get some work done in the meantime. Doesn’t stop you from glancing at the phone after every few words you type. You’re getting back into the swing of the workflow when he answers. The loud buzz vibrates the whole desk and you cringe a little. Should probably turn that off. You pick at a nail when you unlock the device, eyes consuming every pixel from his reply.

“Sounds great, doll. Don’t worry about the club, they can do without me for a few hours. Are you okay to get a car out there? I’ll meet you there and bring you home. That alright?”

You beam at the message you hadn’t expected him to say yes and it almost makes you feel giddy. It’s like real relationship stuff and before you text back he sends another.

“My day’s going better now, looking forward to Friday babe”

There’s a sigh of relief that leaves you. You’re excited for this dinner now – and are wondering what to wear when the phone buzzes again in your hand.

“♡”

You feel like laughing, and do your best to stifle it by biting your lip. Nobody’s looking at you, too focused on getting their own workload somewhat finished before clocking out. You’re pretty frivolous with emojis and were sure it annoyed Oz with how many you send unnecessarily but this is something else. There’s a little purple heart from him on your phone. Renowned thug and criminal Oz Cobblepot sent you a love heart. It’s the same as the one next to his name on your phone and it doesn’t leave your mind for the rest of the day. Maybe he does feel like things are a little more than an arrangement, you can hope anyways.

Unfortunately, you don’t get to bring it up to Oz over the next few days, Carmine had finally found suitable punishment for the other night. He’d been kept at the club (and doing other ‘odd jobs’ you’re sure) every night that week. It was ridiculously transparent to the both of you but Oz said nothing. He’d been able to sneak in a dinner video call with you Thursday night – he was sat in his office picking at whatever the chef had prepared for him while music blared in the background. You couldn’t hear each other too well but it was sweet nonetheless. It was short lived however when Carmine barked at Oz to come with him from off camera.

You smirked at the face on Oz, totally fed up with listening to the older man as he set down his knife and fork. You moved around your own food on the plate, not so hungry now at the sound of his boss appearing. You also knew that your ready-meal was hardly a fraction of the cost of Oz’s dinner. You gave him a wolf whistle when he stood up from his seat, giving you full display of his crotch and stomach. He grabbed at the phone and told you to shut up – failing miserably at hiding a grin as he moved through the room. You blew a kiss goodnight and said you’d see him tomorrow night. As always, he told you sweet dreams but there was a split second of hesitation in his eyes before he hung up. It made your heart flutter for the rest of the night. Even when you were watching tv before bed, you picked at your lip and wondered what he wanted to say. You think you already know.

For once in your life the Friday workday actually goes by smoothly. You were prepared for it to move at a snail’s pace, but there was a buzz in the air of your department. A lot of people were gathered around one computer to look over the large menu. There was some debate about the desserts from your colleagues, and you were inevitably brought in to give your verdict. You hadn’t heard from Oz yet, no morning text or anything. It struck you as odd, but you did your best to ignore it.

It wasn’t until you were heading home that you finally heard from him. He apologized profusely and said something had come up last night which you didn’t think of much of until he’d mentioned he was only awake now. What the fuck has Falcone got him doing? He tells you he has to shower and shave before he arrives for dinner. You would let him off for the night but it’s endearing that he still wants to come by.

One of the women in the office offers to swing by and pick you up and you jump at the chance. You won’t feel as awkward showing up alone. You’d met her husband a few times before and he was actually good fun at these kinds of things. He knew enough of the office drama to keep up with whatever inside jokes were making the rounds. She had turned in her seat to ask was Oz coming and let out a squeal when you said yes.

“What does he do?” her husband asks, as he takes a left turn towards the restaurant. The city’s packed already with plenty of people enjoying the longest day of the year. Well, with what little light Gotham ever got in the first place.

“He owns a nightclub” you answer, hoping he doesn’t ask anything more.

“Eh, not just a nightclub. He owns the Iceberg!” your friend chimes in, not having any of your vagueness.

"Shit! Really? He wanna pay for dinner tonight?” he laughs and glances at you in the back.

“Don’t ask him, ‘cos he will!” you laugh back and they both cheer excitedly as he starts to pull into a parking space. You can see most of the others already waiting outside the door for you three. You smooth over your dress once more before stepping out, another gift from Oz. You greet everyone sincerely but keep an eye for the sports car. Some of the others are starting to head inside while you keep looking around for him. You’re sure he’ll be here soon and follow suit inside to find your least favourite co-worker arguing with the manager. Something about your table not being ready on time, but you glance at your phone to see you’re technically early. Typical Ryan.

You join in a conversation with your friend and her husband again as they start to mumble about the pointless argument happening in front of you. If he keeps this up, you’re likely to all get kicked out. Your snickering is broken by the roar of an engine outside the front door, and you already know before you turn around. You give your friend a squeeze on the arm to tell her you’re just heading outside for a second.

“Give me a blow-by-blow replay, I don’t want to miss him getting punched” you whisper loudly, and the others turn to smirk your direction as you move away.

The doorman opens the front door with a smile as you step back into the warm air. Oz is giving the violet car one last lookover before he sees you. You feel butterflies again in your chest when he looks at you, and truth be told you had missed him the last few days. He’s dressed well in a fitted black suit and white dress shirt and he moves his arms out to give you a good look.

“You look really good, Ozzie” you grin and you can feel yourself blush a little bit. He does look hot. And he’s getting a little better at taking compliments since you got together you’ve noticed.

“Just for you, babe” he croons, bringing a hand to the back of your neck to give a deep kiss. It’s the kind you’re used to getting after a dinner date with him, a sure-fire sign he’s going to fuck you good later on. He feels your surprise at the heated kiss, and pulls back to give a cocky grin. Knowing full well what it does to you.

“I missed you, y’know” he mumbles as he offers you his arm. You hum a reply of acknowledgement and agreement just loud enough for him to hear. When you take his arm, he wraps his hand overtop like usual. What might look like a loving exchange at first glance is really just to help him up the steps without aggravation from his leg. He always gives your hand a firm squeeze afterwards as silent thanks. The scent of his aftershave only really hits you when you step inside, the air conditioning making it swirl inside your head as you go through to the reception area.

Your friend hears the door close and glances back, turning fully when she sees you both. You can see the wide-eyed response as she looks over Oz and subtly nudges her husband. He’s not as subtle and gives her a strange look before realising what she’d meant by it. You feel Oz breathe a little heavier before he speaks. You wonder if he’s as nervous as you are.

“How you doin’? I’m Oz!” he extends his hand out to your friend first, giving that same confident grin he’s known for. She’s a little taken aback, only noticing his face full of scars as she shakes his hand.

“Great to meet you! I’m Shauna and this is my husband, Elijah! I’d say we’ve heard so much about you – but someone likes to play their cards close to their chest” she teases while Oz shakes hands with Elijah. Oz just gives you a fond look and squeezes you at his side, you can see Shauna beam at the sight. You feel yourself doing the same.

“That’s partially my fault, I’m a pretty private guy” he responds, and catches Elijah giving a comically raised brow.

“Hey! I know! What’s a guy like that doin’ with a nightclub?” he laughs, his actual laugh booming around the small space. It’s not the fake polite one he’s done before when talking to some crooked cop or city official in the Lounge. It’s nice to see him like this, like your life together is somewhat normal.

Okay, maybe cool it a little with the ‘life together’ stuff. It’s a work dinner, come on.

The others hear his laugh and look over, quickly averting their eyes as they either recognise him or just know by looking at him that they shouldn’t be. Even the manager, who has ended up roping in a few servers into the argument pauses to see where the sound is coming from. There’s an instant look of recognition on his face as he calls Oz over to him at the door. Oz moves his head to see who’s calling to him and a large grin breaks the look of annoyance that he had.

“What the hell are you doin’ here! You workin’ the kitchens still or are you too good for that now?” he teases, bringing you through the small crowd of your colleagues to speak a little better.

The manager has to be in his late twenties, hell of a job to get so young.

“I’m sorry, doll. This is Paulie, used to work at the Lounge when he was a kid. Look at you, huh?” he explains with a wheezy laugh. He looks visibly more relaxed as he and Paul talk about work.

“Guess I got plenty experience working for you, sir” he admits a little coyly, but Oz claps him on the shoulders with a certain affection.

“More than enough, God knows you dealt with more shit than anyone else workin’ here, kid” he points a finger to his chest to reinforce the message.

“Are we going inside or not?” Ryan interjects, a certain whining tone that’s unmistakably him.

Oz gives a hard look at the man, who was obviously reared without manners.

“What’s your problem?” he grunts out, his eyes looking a little too long at Ryan’s quickly reddening face. You can tell by Oz’s face he’s trying to place him.

“He’s complaining that his group table wasn’t ready, when he’s early” Paul tells him, only infuriating Ryan more. He’s clenching and unclenching his fist, but truthfully he just looks like a dickhead. He doesn’t have it in him to do anything.

“Would you mind getting it ready, Paulie?” Oz asks politely with a shake of his hand, a couple hundred-dollar notes for his trouble. Paul just gives a slow nod and thanks Oz, whispering to the other servers to get the long table ready double time. Paul lets you and Oz go first into the dining room and you can hear Ryan grumbling from behind the group as he follows.

“That was nice, babe. Thank you” you whisper to him, but he just shakes his head a little and squeezes at your hip again. A non-verbal “no problem, doll”. You can practically hear it. As promised the table is set in record time and Oz pulls out your chair for you before he settles into the one at your left. You’re both at the far end of the long table but thankfully you don’t work in a large department. He begins to shuffle out of his blazer, and you help him take the garment off his broad shoulders to rest against the oak chair. You always tell him how handsome he looks in his braces and tonight is no different. He rests his right arm along the back of your chair, hand idly playing with the back of your necklace with the gentlest of touch you could have mistaken for a breeze.

Even in a somewhat casual setting he commands the attention of the room, there’s more than a few looks from other patrons of the restaurant. The low lighting only emphasises his scars you think but where others cower you are drawn in further. A server is over shortly, and begins taking drinks orders. Oz surprises you by getting a red wine rather than his usual scotch on the rocks. Is he trying to be a little more suave? You don’t mention anything you just give him a smile when you order your own drink. Once everyone is taken care of, Shauna is the first to thank him for getting them seated so quickly. The others begin to pipe in the same sentiment and you can see Ryan get visibly more irritated as they give thanks.

But Oz takes no notice of him, instead he blushes a little bit – only around the ears when he’s embarrassed as you’ve noticed. He tells them it’s nothing but you give his leg a squeeze like he does with you and he gives another warm smile. Your drinks show up at that moment, and he graciously thanks the young girl with a nod of his head as he hands you your drink. You see him eye Ryan again when he turns his head to the server. You lean in and ask if he’s alright.

“I know I fuckin’ know that guy” he mumbles into the glass, dark eyes not leaving the man across you. You brush it off, thinking it’s one of those times Oz swears he’s seen an actor before and it irritates him until he remembers where. To make matters worse, you aren’t allowed check the internet – because he’ll “get it eventually”. You’d been awoken several times to Oz shaking your arm to tell you the name of the guy in that movie you saw a week ago, as if you had any fucking clue what he was talking about at 2am.

The conversations throughout the dinner are light, and the drinks heavy. All in all it’s going pretty well, Oz has settled in nicely and is building a nice rapport with the other men of the group. You can tell that they’re all a little afraid of him, but are eager to know him better. Like that older kid and school that could easily beat the shit out of you, or invite you over for dinner at his house in the same breath. Shauna nudges you at one point while Oz is telling some reworked story he’d told you (now significantly more law abiding).

“Is it just me or has Ryan been somewhat okay?” she whispers in your ear.

You nod and think about it. He’s usually the messy drunk at these kinds of things, you had expected the fight earlier to turn into a screaming match like you’d seen before. You both freeze for a second when he abruptly stands from the table to go to the bathroom. You both look at each other.

“I mean I’m tipsy but I’m not that drunk that he could have heard that” she says a little puzzledly. You wave her off.

“He probably has to call his mother - she’s wondering why the basement is so quiet” you mutter back and join in her cackling response. Your laughter has barely died down when he’s back, a little too quickly. He’s much more lively now, trying to talk over Oz and the other guys. You internally cringe and wait for Oz to tell him off, but he’s just staring at him. Your eyes move from Oz to Ryan who’s currently talking a mile a minute before you see Oz’s jaw clench and the hand behind your neck stop it’s movements.

“What?” you lean into him again, the smell of his aftershave hitting you all over again. FOCUS. Something weird is going on.

“I know how I know him now. He’s a fuckin’ drophead. The worst kind at that, the kind that owes me fuckin’ money” he grits out between his teeth. Disdain is evident on his face and your glad the others are too interested in Ryan’s sudden new lease of life.

“Ozzie, I can’t have this guy go fuckin’ missing over dinner” you warn sternly and he turns his head quickly – almost bumping noses in the process.

“I’m not gonna kill the bastard” he says indignantly before realising what he’s said. You both glance around the table and are relieved to see nobody’s paying attention.

“I’m not goin’ to do that, besides I wouldn’t get my money that way” he sniffs and picks at a stray thread on his napkin. He knows to leave it now, and sort it out later. Well, that is if he’s not set off by some stupid shit Ryan says. And if you know him at all, he’s bound to do it.

Watching him now, it’s so obvious he was messing with drops. You all just presumed he was an asshole cos he was drunk, not completely out of his mind. He was paranoid at the best of times, spreading rumours that he’s being targeted by higher ups. You think he mustn’t recognise Oz, he’s far too cowardly to sit across from the man he owes a couple grand to. At least you think he is. It could just be sheer stupidity on his part.

Eventually, he starts getting louder. Other diners looking over at the commotion as he tells an exaggerated story you’re positive you heard on some Netflix special a while ago. You can feel Oz getting more tense beside you, fingers tapping at the chair behind you absentmindedly. You bring a hand to his thigh again when he realises. His large hand returns to your shoulder, cupping around to keep you close. Ryan spots the wordless exchange, wide eyes almost completely black in the light.

“Where are you from Oz?” he questions. You can tell by his tone he already knows the answer. Oz’s accent is unmistakably from the heart of the city. A Jersey boy through and through. He makes no bones about people knowing he grew up poor, but he takes a big issue with people looking down their nose at him for it. He’ll never be a fake.

“What do you mean ‘where I’m from’? What the fuck do you care where I’m from? It’s none of your business” he sneers back, and you feel your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets at the sound. You thought whiskey drunk Oz was the fighter, wine drunk Oz is far more incensed at things like this. The others stop their own laughter and stories at the other end.

“Oz…” you whisper, squeezing his thigh again but it’s pointless. He’s already talking before you can catch his attention. Ryan looks completely dazed now, not following what’s happening even when he’s the instigator.

“You wanna know things about me? Why don’t you write me a little email?” he continues, left hand making a typing motion as he speaks.

“I’ll write you back real quick. Where do you live?” He shoots back another sneer, relishing in Ryan’s embarrassment now. The drugs in his system give him a little boost of bravado however, and he tries to talk back.

“Why don’t you com-” he says, pointing a shaky finger at Oz before he’s interrupted.

“Where do you live actually? I can hand deliver a letter to you!” Oz barks out with a harsh laugh. One that the other guys are unsure if they can join. He notices it and raises his hand a little off the tablecloth.

“I’m just busting your balls, kid” he chuckles, and you can feel the relief in the air.

You know better than them though, that kid struck a nerve with Oz. He can play it off as smooth as he likes but you know most of his insecurities by now. You lean in to his ear again and he turns slightly to listen.

“Play nicely, or you’re not getting your dick wet tonight” you murmur quietly.

You feel his own smirk, and see the way the corner of his eyes crinkle with delight at your words. You pull away from him slowly, maintaining eye contact as you await his response. He holds your stare and bends his head to kiss your bare shoulder in acquiescence. It’s a rather intimate display and it catches you by surprise. It brings a smile to your face to see him reel himself back in under your guidance. He can always break Ryan’s legs another time he decides.

The arrival of the check removes the last of the tension at the table, well the uncomfortable kind anyways. Oz is a quicker draw than the rest, handing the credit card to the sever swiftly. There’s uproar from the table before Shauna shouts.

“I have the boss’ card!” she says, waving the card frantically for the server.

Oz raises his hands like he’s being interrogated and lets out another laugh. The table roars when he says he’d rather it be the boss’ money than his anyways. You roll your eyes at him when he returns the card to his slacks’ pocket. He’s in a better mood, you wonder if that anger from earlier could be repurposed for your benefit. You like your chances. You lay it on thick while the others grab their things. Hand moving dangerously close to the goal before falling short.

“Bring me home, Ozzie?” you ask coyly.

You watch him bite the inside of his cheek at that.

“I could listen to you say that for the rest of my life, sweetheart” he answers with a chaste kiss to your lips.

You know he means it. And you could say it for the rest of his life too. You consider the dreamlike life he would graciously give you, dinners like this every other night when he’s not cooking for you at home. He still maintains he has to give you a proper home cooked Italian meal at his place but you both get distracted. A lot.

You give him a hand getting the blazer back on and before you know it you’re both in the Maserati. You’d said goodbye to everyone, and gave thanks again to Shauna and Elijah as they headed back to their own car. Oz instinctively takes your hand once he’s pulled out of the spot into traffic. Running the wide thumb across the back of your hand. It feels normal again, like you hadn’t spent the majority of the week apart ‘cos of his shitty boss – or that he’d basically threatened a co-worker.

“Thanks for coming again, Ozzie. I appreciate it, y’know?” you speak over the radio. He takes a peek at you from his seat and the thumb on your hand digs in a little.

“Don’t have to thank me, babe. I needed the break from the club anyway”

“From Carmine?” you question and watch him nod as he takes a turn.

You don’t want to poke any further and you most definitely want to bring up Falcone of all people and ruin your night together. You want to steer the conversation and his mind away from that shithole.

“You looked real handsome tonight, babe” you say nonchalantly, watching his strong brow quirk upwards at your praise.

“You angling for somethin’, doll?” he replies. As good as he’s gotten with compliments he still shies away when he can.

“What do I need to butter you up for? You give me whatever I want, when I want – Remember?”

That wicked smile comes back tenfold now. You know exactly what to say to rile him up, and you see him shift in his leather seat a fraction. The digital speedometer starts to climb the closer he gets to the penthouse and you can’t hide the smugness anymore.

It’s still light outside when he pulls into the underground lot, the interior of the car lighting up a vibrant indigo at the sudden change. He parks up at his spot in record time and he makes no show of patience when he opens your door to give a deep kiss. It’s exactly like before dinner, but this time you don’t have to sit through other people’s presence. You head up to his apartment from the elevator, his fingers dancing along your spine as you stand next to him. You think of how out of all the times you’ve ridden in this elevator, you’ve never met anyone else. There’s plenty cars downstairs but you never actually see anyone. They’re probably as shady in their day-to-day life as Oz is and want an even lower profile. Not that a purple sports car is keeping a low profile.

You think you must have drunk a little too much with your food, because before you realise that you’re on your back on Oz’s obnoxious bed with him littering your neck with open mouthed kisses. He’s done it so often but it hasn’t ever gotten boring. Each time he brings his tongue to grace your skin you shudder at the feeling like it’s the first night all over again. Your hands are flat against his wide back and you can feel the muscle twitch as he presses himself to you. All the while grinding his hips between your legs. You feel your mouth fall open to speak without thinking.

“I thought you were gonna make that sad fuck cry at the table tonight” you mumble into his ear. A hearty laugh comes from him before he trails his mouth up to your jaw and then your lips.

“Would you have liked that? Seem to remember how wet you were when I split my knuckles last week” he grunts out as he grinds himself harsher against you now. You swallow and give a shaky moan at his words and it only spurs him on.

“Yes, Ozzie” you sigh as you try push your own hips down on him. Your face is beyond flushed you can practically feel the heat in the air. It begins to heat once more when you a thought enters your head.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmur again, Oz stops his ministrations to give you his attention. A hand comes to hold your face the way he likes, thumb brushing over your already swollen lips.

“Anything” he swears. You stare at him for a second, taking in his own flushed face. You can spot a bead of sweat already lining his forehead.

“Do you have like…brass knuckles?” you ask, head a little fuzzy.

He takes a moment to process what you’ve asked. Of course he does, why are you asking now?

“Yeah, doll. In a drawer somewhere, why?” he lets out a small laugh, almost nervous. Are you afraid because of what he said?

“I want you to wear ‘em when you fuck me” you tell him. The words coming out in a rush. The hand on your face goes flat against the side of your cheek. He’s admiring you, you realise. You’re a far cry from the person you used to be and it only hits you now. You shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be seeing this guy or accepting his blood money and you shouldn’t be asking him to fuck you while he has a weapon on him. But you are. You’re too far gone at this stage. What would have happened if you had cancelled that night of your friend’s party? You’d be innocent for sure. But you wouldn’t be this happy.

“You’re a dirty girl, ain’t you? Did I do this to you, baby?” he slurs a little.

Wine drunk Oz is far more provocative than normal, and you’re enjoying it. He’s got an almost painful hard on pressed against your clothed cunt. Worked up from dry humping and making out on his bed, but your request makes him see stars if he was honest. You can’t even make the effort to answer him, just nodding dumbly at the sentiment.

“Stay right there for me, sweetheart” he tells you with another searing kiss before he shuffles backwards off the bed. You throw a hand over your face, trying to get any relief from your heated skin but it’s useless. You can hear a drawer open in the far corner where his extensive wardrobe lies. A second later he’s back on top of you, spread legs straddling over you. You could squeeze his thick thighs forever you think and he’d gladly let you. You want to work out every knot in his body.

The spiral of thoughts are stopped in their tracks when you see them. Gold glittering from the light of the city below you. They fit his heavy hands perfectly you realise, obviously moulded to his taste. You can feel your heart stutter a little at the sight of him, shirt undone almost all the way and hands at his side. He’s breathing heavily like he did when he had that guy against the wall of the 44 and you feel adrenaline pump through every vein in your body.

You rise up on your elbows as much as they can support you. You’re definitely tipsier than you thought, but this has to be the best idea drunk you has ever had. He brings his right-hand to your face slowly, so not to freak you out at the contact of the metal. It feels electric on your skin, the cool relief your flushed face was searching for is finally found. He can’t touch you as well as he’d like but you don’t care. You can only imagine how wet you must be and you let out a groan as he caresses your face with the jewellery.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asks you so gently as he turns his hand over, enjoying the view.

It’s so soft you’re amazed you heard him at all. You lick your lips and give another nod. In return he offers you an almost proud smile. Of your request, or his ability to indulge you you’re not sure. Not that it matters.

“Take off your dress for me, honey” he murmurs, like you’d refuse him.

Without a second thought you do your best to pull it off your clammy body and he can’t help much with his hands in his defence. You’d kill him if he ruined that outfit. Once it’s off and hits the floor you grab either side of his hips and he almost recoils in surprise. You look him in the eye before licking a long stripe up the middle of his dark chest. You can taste his cologne that he put on hours ago, mixed in with his own scent. You’d wanted to do this for a while but he’s still hesitant with you near his chest. You don’t understand it but praise him when he lets you get this close. You want to continue this little game of him being in charge, however.

“I love how you taste, Ozzie” you tell him, delighting in his gasps.

You move your head slightly to the swell of his chest and suck a deep mark into the plump flesh. He actually moans at that, bringing his hand to the back of your head to keep you there. He lets his own head roll back a little as you continue to lap at the hot skin. You bring a hand up to join the fun, giving his pec a firm pinch between your fingers before you take his nipple into your hot mouth.

A hearty groan comes from his throat at the feeling and he opens his eyes to see you enjoying yourself at his pleasure. His breaths are deeper and laboured now, he pulls you back from his chest. The cooler air of the apartment rushing around the abused flesh as you leave it. You look entirely fucked out of it now, and he’s barely touched you so far. It’s driving him insane.

“Lie back down for me, doll” he coos and you do so without question.

It’s fun letting him be in charge for once. You sink into the cool sheets and watch him undo the hook and eye of his trousers. It’s so much hotter when he keeps the thick braces on his broad shoulders. You open your legs as wide as they’ll go, that initial burn of resistance from the first night long forgotten now. It’s all muscle memory with him and it’s a comfort.

His dick is already beginning to leak profusely it’s almost cute in a way how much he’s enjoying this game. He brings his left hand to run down your chest, watching the skin goosebump in reaction to the cool metal adorning his fist. You twitch involuntarily as you watch it travel your body until he gets to your lower stomach. He’s slightly rougher there, knowing it gets you wetter as he externally massages your g-spot. Your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly at his touch and you think you can see him smile a little as you watch him pump himself in hand. He’s enjoying the feeling of the brass knuckles on himself as well. After a few seconds, the hand on your stomach goes lower to rest on top of your mound. He digs the heel of his palm in to expose your clit to the air and to him. You feel like you’ve been waiting forever but that’s not true. Oz is never a tease, he likes to spoil you too much. He’s said it himself plenty of times.

He shuffles a little closer now, rubbing the head of his reddening cock against your swollen clit. A simultaneous gasp comes from both of you before he drags his dick lower through your folds. He can feel exactly how much you’re enjoying this and it’s just spurring him on. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, not even when he was younger fucking anything with a pulse. He doesn’t want to waste anymore time for either of you, and starts to sink into you as much as you allow. There’s practically no resistance however as your insides welcome the intrusion quickly. The hand that was guiding him in goes back to the side of your face, making sure you watch his expression as he bottoms out. That intensity he gets whenever he first enters you is back in his dark eyes, and it’s the same look he gives before he snaps at someone or tells them off physically. He’s a passionate man, but you don’t think he’s ever admitted it to anyone.

He starts to move his hips slower than you’d like. You want him rougher tonight, but he’s too gentle in the beginning as always. It’s another endearing detail about him. He has no qualms about hurting anyone but you, even involuntarily. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders tense as he tries to start of slow and you know just what to say to make him lose any self-restraint. You pull his head down to kiss you before you move to his ear and moan deep and long. You can feel his slow rhythm falter and you know you’ve got him.

“I love your cock, Ozzie” you sigh dreamily and you mean it. You think about it all the time, you know for a fact your work productivity has plummeted since meeting him and you have an inkling he’s the same. Hovering around his phone during meetings with Carmine, waiting to hear from you about the things you’ve spent his hard-earned cash on.

You get exactly what you wanted when your words hit him, a deep grunt coming from his chest before he takes one of your thighs in hand and pushes it against your torso. The roughness of his calloused palms and fingers is broken by the rigid metal pushing his fingers apart and you push your own hips down against him as much as you can from this position.

“That all you can fuckin’ think about? You’re here in bed with a guy like me and you can only say you love my cock? You think your friends at dinner know who I am?” he grits out. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was pissed off, but it’s just how he gets when he’s turned on you’ve come to notice. He gets a little prouder, a little more possessive.

You play along and nod again, mouth falling open when he starts to slam his hips against you. You can feel him almost pull out the entire way before he pushes back in. The slap of your skin together is filling your ears along with his words.

“You saw me nearly hit that guy earlier, and all you could think about was me fuckin’ you like this?” he sneers again, but it’s not malicious. Not with the way he kisses across your face, any bit he can get to. It’s the same rough and tender way he is in everything.

“Say it” he grunts out, left hand now digging in painfully into your thigh as he pumps into you faster. His other hand cups your face entirely, thumb pressed into the dip of your chin to keep you where he wants you.

“It’s all I think about” you confess in a hushed whisper and you see the way he has to close his eyes to focus on not finishing there and then.

He pulls out of you in the next second and you think you’ve done something wrong before he gasps at you to get on your stomach. Your brain is blank at this point from being so close to finishing. He grabs a silk pillow and slots it under your hips like it’s not going to be ruined. Like it costs nothing. One hand spreads the cheek of your ass, and you feel his blunt fingernails scratch the raised flesh. The sting is cooled by the presence of the warming metal but it still gives you a shiver when he pulls it to expose your wet pussy. Your face down in the covers now, feeling completely overheated and exposed the way you wanted.

He pushes back in and he hisses behind you at the angle, you’re taking him deeper now than in missionary. And he knows you enjoy the way his stomach pushes you into the sheets, even if he can’t quite understand it himself. He resumes his punishing pace, right hand cupping your shoulder to push you back onto his cock. His index finger brushes against the back of your ear softly, still wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. As if you aren’t close to crying from how close you are grinding into the plush pillow underneath you.

“I’m gonna have to fuck you like this in Carmine’s office one of these days, y’know that?” he spits out as he moves to cover your body with his. His mouth is hot at your ear now, one hand slipping underneath you to rub roughly at your clit. You almost jump out of his arms when the metal glides over the slick skin but he keeps you there. You always try to shy away from his touch when it’s overwhelming but you love it when he makes you face it head on.

“When it’s your office, Ozzie?” you pant out and you feel his dick twitch a little inside you. He loves when you talk to him like that, remind him that he’s going to be in control one day. His teeth graze your ear at that and he fucks you even deeper somehow.

“Will you fuck me like this on that pool-table, baby? Please?” you cry out with a little smile and you can feel him start to bite and kiss at the flesh of your neck. That chain of his hitting at your shoulder blade with his harsh movements. His free hand holds your head between his thumb and forefinger, but it nearly covers your entire face with the way he’s moving so frantically. You’d mentioned it to him before in passing at a late-night game with Falcone and his thugs. Oz had to pretend he was getting a call when you went to the private bathroom to wait for him. You knew it’d rile him up to no end to picture you bent over it, but he had to make to with the marble countertop of Carmine’s personal en-suite in the upstairs office.

“I’ll fuck wherever you want, sweetheart. Just say the word, and I’ll do it” he grins and you can feel from his thrusts he’s getting sloppy the closer he gets to finishing. You do your best to grind down on his palm and back against him to get yourself there. You would try to quieten down but you can’t help yourself this late in the game. It’s all too much. You bring your hand to cup the back of his own head, turning as much as you can to catch his dark eyes.

“I’m yours, sweetie” you get out between moans, eyes almost fluttering shut as you grind against his now sopping hand between your legs one last time.

You feel the way you involuntarily grip his cock as you cum that he’s losing it entirely. He pushes you down against the sheets harder now after telling him you’re his and his alone. He’s still fucking you through it that you almost go into a daze before he pulls out again. To be honest, you hadn’t thought he had it in him to stop again. He rolls you onto your back once more, relishing in how dishevelled you look lying there for him. He takes himself in hand again and finishes on your chest when your eyes meet. His head rolls back again, and you bring your shaky hands to rub soothingly into his stomach and hips as he cools down. The sight of him touching himself with the brass knuckles on is something you hope you never forget. You want every detail seared into your brain.

You’re both panting heavily after that and you expect Oz to get a rag to clean you up. He’d never finished on you before, always deep inside. It was unusual but with what you had asked of him, it was fair. Instead of fetching a facecloth from his sink, he bends down once more to lick the cum off you. Wide tongue leaving patches of spit on your chest as he cleaned you. He hums loudly to himself as he does so and you feel as though you could die happy at the sight of him. When you’re sufficiently cleaned, he rises up to give you an open-mouthed kiss, you moan heartily at the taste of him while your tongues slide over each other. He pulls back a fraction, eyes boring into yours while staying half-lidded somehow before he says it.

“I love you” he murmurs unconsciously almost to himself. Your own eyes widen a little, too drunk and too tired to believe what you just heard. He hears what he said a few seconds too late and before he can pull away and apologise you wrap your arms around his neck and return his deep kiss. You whisper your own confession and he looks more flushed than he had a few moments ago. You don’t say anything else, there’s no need to. Not right now anyways. He just watches you for a second, hand gently caressing your cheek once more. You lean into it now, and kiss along the inside of his palm. He lets out a small hum at the feeling before leaving you with a chaste kiss as he gets fully undressed for bed.

Your legs feel like jelly as you crawl up to the headboard and under the covers. You see him place the brass knuckles on his bedside table before he knocks the soaked pillow off the bed entirely. There’s a soft smile on your face when he joins you and pulls you close to him. You can still get that scent of his cologne when you cuddle into his chest. He gives one last little peck to the top of your head as you start to doze off.

It's unfortunately one of those sleeps where you close your eyes and open them to the bright morning, feeling no rest or comfort in slumber. You groan a little at the light, Oz had forgotten to close the curtains before he’d left to get you. You roll slowly onto your back, not without its difficulty and realise you can hear him in the kitchen again. By the look of the outside, it must be afternoon. The city looks busier than ever from up here you think. You rub a hand over your face and swallow a deep yawn before you try find your phone and confirm the time. Shauna had sent you a few pictures from the night that you can’t remember taking in the bathroom but they’re cute. You send her back a message of thanks and look through your other texts. There’s nothing out of the ordinary you find and you go onto twitter. You know it’s not good to open social media like a newspaper when you wake up, but it’s a habit.

You see a dm from one of your friends and expect to see a meme about Gotham but your jaw drops at what you see. She sent a “??????????????????????” message with a screenshot of some tabloid page. It’s two pictures of you and Oz from last night at the restaurant. You frantically click into it, and see tons of traction on the pictures. One is of you whispering in his ear, his heavy arm slung over the back of your chair with a smirk on his face. The other is when he kissed your shoulder.

“OZ!” you shout from the bedroom.