#Vic doesn’t even have fucking legs

[frogaroundandfindout]

Dick receives the news about Jason Todd. New Titans issue 55

[gunnerfc]

Victoria Pelova NSFW Alphabet (18+, minors DNI!)

A: Aftercare

Vic is very needy after sex and will whine whenever you get up to get her water or something else

B: Body Part (their favorite body part of themselves and their partner)

Vic’s favorite body part is her hands, she loves holding onto your body or tangling them in your hair as you go down on her

Her favorite body part of yours is your mouth and she doesn’t care how obvious that is, she just loves how good you make her feel

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

She loves tasting herself on your fingers or mouth after you made her cum multiple times

D: Dirty Secret 

She might be good at controlling how loud she can be but she actually doesn’t care if someone hears how good you make her feel

E: Experience (Are they experienced? Do they know what they are doing?) 

Vic is experienced but she learned a lot about what she liked when the two of you started dating and having sex

F: Favorite Position 

She loves when you go down on her and how you hold her body while you do so

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

Vic can be very giggly during sex which makes you giggle as well

I: Intimacy (How intimate are they during the moment?)

Sex with Vic is very intimate

J: Jack off (Masturbation HC) 

She’s a fan of mutual masturbation, especially over the phone if you are apart

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks) 

She loves being told how good she’s being for you

L: Location (Favorite place to have sex)

She prefers your shared apartment most times but there are times when you will have a quickie in the showers after a game or bribe one of your teammates to switch rooms with you during away games

M: Motivation (What turns them on?) 

Hearing you praise her, even if it is the littlest thing

N: No (Something they wouldn't do)

She doesn’t want to do anything that might hurt either of you

O: Oral (Preference on giving or receiving)

Receiving, she loves having you between her legs

P: Pace (Fast & Rough? Slow & Sensual?) 

It changes depending on your moods, if you lost a game sex is a bit rougher but if you won, it’ll be on the slower, sensual side

Q: Quickie (Thoughts on quickies) 

Vic loves them, she loves having your hands on her making her feel good so any chance for that to happen she’s going to take

R: Risk (Are they open to experimenting) 

Vic is open to some experimenting but not much

S: Stamina (How many rounds) 

You two can go for shorter rounds but there are more of them

T: Toys 

Vic loves when you use a strap but she also loves you just using your fingers or mouth

U: Unfair (Do they like the tease)

She’ll tease you to make you fuck her harder/faster

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make) 

She can be a bit loud but she’s good at controlling her volume when you’re not at home

W: Wild Card (Random HC)

The first time you asked a teammate to switch rooms with you during an away game, they listened and the next morning the two of you were teased endlessly and Vic’s neck being covered in hickies didn’t help at all

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s in the middle but does lean a bit higher some days, especially watching you on the pitch

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Vic falls asleep pretty quickly after sex

[runninriot]

another one for the @steddieholidaydrabbles

Day 12

prompt: only one bed | rated: t | word count: 998 | tags: sleepover, finding comfort, coming to conclusions, soft boys cuddling, open ending

🌙

Steve can’t sleep.

He’s been tossing and turning for god knows how long but nothing seems to work. The air in the room is stuffy, the light from the street lamp outside shines too bright through the open blinds, and the fucking noise...

    Ugh!

He hates himself for ending up here in the first place. Squished between the wall and Eddie fucking Munson who’s dead asleep on his back, happily snoring, legs and arms splayed out like he owns the fucking place.

Okay, maybe because he does. It's his bed after all.

They’ve been hanging out at the trailer – Eddie, Steve, Robin, and Vickie. And they really had a great time, that’s not the problem. The problem is, that Steve let himself be talked into having ‘just one beer’ and one turned into three which would’ve been fine, really. He could’ve sobered up enough to drive them home by the end of the night. But then Eddie had to bring out the good stuff and- Well.

Him and the girls decided to stay overnight. But unfortunately, Rob and Vic called dibs on the folding couch and while Steve would’ve been fine to sleep on the floor (‘Just hand me a blanket, I really don’t mind.’) Eddie insisted that his bed was big enough for two.

So, here he is now. Lying awake next to the loudest snorer in history, unable to get some much-needed sleep.

Steve turns again, facing Eddie now. He looks at the mess of tangled hair, the starfish-like display of limbs, the half-parted lips, and despite his annoyance he can’t bite back a quiet chuckle.

Eddie looks adorable.

I mean... like a dork!

The sound of his snoring has turned into a muffled sound, almost like he’s talking in his sleep but Steve can’t really make out the words. And then Eddie moves, turns to his side and-

    You have got to be kidding me!

One of Eddie's hands sneaks around his middle the same time he hooks one leg over Steve’s. Eddie shuffles closer, pressing his nose into coarse hair - inhaling deeply, sighing contently in his sleep.

Steve feels trapped, doesn’t know what to do. He can't just push Eddie away, doesn’t want to startle him awake by wiggling out of his grasp because Eddie looks so... comfortable. So cosy, all curled up against Steve’s body.

And it kinda feels nice because Eddie is warm and his skin is soft and the snoring has stopped, which is a big plus.

Surely, he’ll let go and turn back around if Steve just waits a little while. There’s no need to make a big deal out of it.

“Hmm, 's nice," Eddie mumbles.

Steve can feel his lips moving against his chest and it sends a hot blush to his face.

   “Eddie? You awake?” Steve tries but gets no verbal response from the other man. Eddie just tightens his grip, moves even closer to Steve.

The digits on the alarm clock tell him it’s 02:23. He should be asleep by now. He’s so tired, can barely keep his eyes open. Eddie’s skin is so soft and warm and Steve tries to keep his own body from sinking further into the embrace but it feels nice to be held like that. To feel someone else's skin on his own. It should be weird - because that someone is Eddie - but somehow, it's not.

The monotonous sound of Eddie’s now calm breathing works like magic, makes him drift deeper and deeper into a peaceful sleep.

☀️

   “Good morning, sunshine.”

Steve blinks and forces one eye open. He's greeted by a blinding smile that competes with the light of the sun shining through the window.

   “M’rning,” Steve mumbles sleepily in return.

He doesn’t want to get up, wants to sleep a little longer. He wants to stay hidden from the world just a couple more minutes.

Steve ducks his head back down, scoots closer, crawls back into the comfort of Eddie’s arms where it’s warm and safe and-

    Oh.

He freezes when he realises the position they're in – an arm wrapped around his shoulder, his own draped over Eddie's waist. Tangled legs. Steve’s face tucked into the space between Eddie’s shoulder and neck.

    Oh fuck.

Eddie doesn’t seem to mind though. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push him away. Just lets Steve hold him and even starts drawing circles to the skin on his back.

It feels so fucking nice.

   “Hmmm.” Steve hums, nearly moans when he feels Eddie's nails scraping along his neck and into his hair line, sending a tingling sensation through his body.

   “You like that?” Steve feels Eddie’s hoarse, sleepy voice vibrating on his lips where they’re connected to his throat - feather light, barely touching.

  “Feels good,” Steve answers, lips grazing Eddie's skin almost like a tender kiss. Almost.

Beside him Eddie shivers, inhales shakily as he pulls Steve closer into his arms.

They stay like that for a while in comfortable silence, gentle hands stroking long lines up and down Steve's back in steady motion. They're holding each other closer than they should be allowed to. Because they’re friends and that’s not usually what friends do.

   “I could stay like this forever,” Eddie whispers and Steve secretly agrees. Thinks he could live in Eddie’s arms, wouldn’t mind if he held him like this, always.

But forever is a dream and always an illusion.

They both know the moment is over when they can hear the girls talking in the living room. They’ll have to let each other go and get up. Forget about this and pretend it never happened.

Steve peels himself off reluctantly, keeps one hand placed on Eddie’s side. He's not quite ready to leave.

Their eyes meet and there’s a sad smile on Eddie’s face. Steve wants to kiss it better, knows he can't.

He shouldn’t want this but Eddie is right there; hesitating, like he doesn't want to let go either and maybe...

"Stevie?"

Yeah, maybe.

[exhuastedpigeon]

wet your lips (and smile to the camera)

Mature Words: 6,884 Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz

Buck has a problem and that problem is that Eddie Diaz is going to ruin his life. OR Eddie starts modeling on the side and Buck can't stop looking at his pictures, mostly because Eddie's ads are everywhere.

It all started on a call. 

Well, more accurately, it had to have started well before The Call™. But honestly, The Call™ ruined Buck’s entire life. He’s started viewing his life as before The Call™ and after it. But by the time they’re on The Call™, it’s too late for Buck to save himself. Buck has no idea how he’s going to survive this, and no he isn’t being dramatic. 

The Call™ in question happened on a pretty average Thursday. They’re responding to a call at the Four Seasons in West Hollywood, Buck is pretty sure the victim is a hotshot young producer, but he’s not exactly tuned in with the Hollywood crowd. The vic has a broken leg from falling out of the shower and a possible concussion so Buck and Eddie help get him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where there’s more space before Hen and Chim do their initial assessment. 

“Give them some room to work,” Bobby tells the team as Hen and Chim get started with stabilizing the patient for transport. Buck wanders out of the bedroom into the open concept living room/kitchen and looks down at a copy of this month’s Vogue that’s sitting on the kitchen island, Margot Robbie smiling up from the extremely pink cover. 

Buck flips the magazine open, wondering if he’ll have enough time to read her interview, when he drops the magazine. It doesn’t close, instead it lands open on the island, still on the page he had stopped on, a black and white Calvin Klein ad staring up at him. Buck is pretty sure he’s hallucinating, almost positive that his fantasies are making him see things. 

He rubs his eyes before looking back at the ad again, but that’s still Eddie fucking Diaz looking up from the glossy pages of the magazine. The long line of Eddie’s bare thighs on display as he lounges on a bed, half propped up on a pillow. The white tank top Eddie is wearing is pushed up to his chest, his abs look so good that Buck wants to lick them. 

“Uh,” Buck looks down at the magazine, unable to tear his eyes away from where Eddie’s happy trail disappears into the tight, white boxer briefs that Eddie is wearing in the photo, his thumb tucked into the waistband in a way that’s making Buck a little tight in his pants.  

“Is that the latest Vogue,” Buck jumps, he forgot that Ravi was even with them. He forgot basically everything he’d ever known after seeing Eddie’s fucking bedroom eyes in that magazine. “I want to read Margot Robbie’s article, hand it over.”

“No,” Buck could hear how off he sounded as he spoke, his voice breaking. “It’s nothing.”

“Wait,” Lucy appeared behind him like some kind of witch, “is that Diaz ?”

“Is what Diaz?” Eddie looked up at them from where he was leaning against the fridge. He looked like sex, all functional muscles and a little scruff. 

Lucy grabbed the magazine and held it up, showing Ravi and Eddie the ad. “This you?”

“Oh,” Eddie looked down and Buck could see a soft pink blush on Eddie’s cheeks. “Yeah, that’s uh, that’s me.”

Continue on ao3

[buglord-isaac]

Price Gaz fic

(Gift for @vic-draws-sometimes based off his recent art)

The private 141 celebratory dinner that Lazwell had organised was going even better than Gaz had imagined. The combination of many glasses genuinely good wine, the suits that everyone was wearing, and the relaxed and happy conversations they were having over food was proving to make them all forget about their recent missions.

Soap was patched up from his beating, but appeared to be enjoying himself as he chatted to Ghost, who had a full black suit and a simple black mask on. Alejandro and Rodolfo had been invited too, and were busy singing whatever song would come on in loud and obnoxious voices that would make everyone laugh. Price and Gaz had spent most of the night bantering with Lazwell, who seemed to genuinely be enjoying herself. However, when her wife finally arrived, her focus shifted away from Price and Gaz.

John had been complimenting Kyle on how he handled the mission since they got back, but alcohol turned his praise into overdrive. While Kyle didn’t much enjoy being praised by others, John’s praise always made him soft and filled him with a certain type of ecstasy. They were both into each other. They both knew it. But John had always seemed uncomfortable with the power imbalance they had with Kyle being a Sergeant and John being a Captain. Kyle didn’t care. He enjoyed it. He wanted his captain to take control, but whenever they would get close to kissing, Kyle would make the mistake of calling him ‘sir’ and messing everything up.

They had been dancing around each other like this for months now. Getting painfully close to each other and not being able to follow through. They were close to that part of the cycle again, where they were insanely close. John was speaking his praises about Kyle’s sniper skills close to his ear, in his deep raspy voice that sent tingles down his spine. Their legs were pressed against each other, Kyle looking down at John’s hand as the fingers tapped against the wine glass he was holding.

It was insane, the amount he wanted his captain. As the whispering continued in his ear, his mind wandered to thinking about how good it would be for him to whisper that to him in bed, their bodies touching, John holding him down as he used him how he wanted. No self doubt. No power imbalance. Just them.

“You say all this praise to me, and yet you fail to remember that you survived a helicopter crash.” His voice was soft, betraying his feelings. His chest was so very tight. “Big strong man…”

He had to remember not to say Captain… don’t say it… don’t say ‘sir’. No matter how much he wanted to. It would ruin the mood. He was so close.

“You’re walking a fine line, Kyle.”

“And what is that line?”

John leaned more into Kyle, his hand moving down to his lower back and slipping his fingers ever so slightly under his suit jacket.

“A line I am far too tipsy to care about… a line I wouldn’t want to cross without your permission…”

“And what if I want to break that line? Demolish it. Make it so that line doesn’t exist at all anymore?”

“Don’t tempt me, Kyle…”

Kyle could feel his breath down the back of his neck. He was so close that he could feel the hairs on his face tickling his neck and cheek.

Don’t call him sir…

“I’ll tempt you all I want, John.”

He moved his head so he could speak more into his ear. “And I want you.”

He heard a click as John gritted his teeth, and a little guttural groan. That must’ve done it.

“Fucking hell, Kyle…”

“How about we get some air? Outside. Somewhere where no one can see us?”

John groaned again, but sat up properly and sighed through his gritted teeth.

“Fine. I need a cigar anyways.”

“I’ll join you in a few minutes. Go enjoy that cigar.”

John looked him up and down for half a second, then stood. Kyle watched him leave the room and shuddered, his heart racing beyond comprehension. He wanted him so badly…

Kyle waited exactly three minutes before going to join John outside. He was down the side of the building, well away from the main thoroughfare of the walkways. He was sucking the end of his cigar with his eyes closed, taking in every molecule of smoke. It seemed to relax him. When he touched his captain’s arm, he whipped around and grabbed his wrists, the cigar still between two of his fingers.

This took Kyle by surprise, but it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise by any stretch of the imagination. He looked up at John, who had a soft, thoughtful expression on his face.

“Open your mouth, Kyle. Tongue out.”

Kyle obeyed, and watched as John came close, breathing the smoke currently in his lungs into his mouth in a thin but powerful stream. He could see it escaping his mouth and floating up, clouding his vision slightly, but he didn’t care. He felt the moustache brushing against his lips, then felt John’s lips on his, pushing his tongue back into his mouth and following it with his own. The taste of smoke and wine mixed so perfectly in their mouths.

He was so professional with his kisses. His body pressed Kyle’s against the wall just as his legs started to falter, catching him. When he separated from the kiss, they both breathed out smoke and watched it dissipate in the air. John took another breath of the cigar, then put out the fire by pressing it into the wall near Kyle’s ear. He heard the sizzle on the brick. Somehow it just added to the tightness in his chest and stomach. He was so enamoured with his captain… the kiss put him on cloud nine.

John breathed out the smoke again and watched it dissipate again, then his eyes focussed back onto Kyle. One hand made its way around Kyle’s waist once more, and he saw absolute adoration in the older man’s eyes. He was just as in love with him. He knew it. His hands moved up and rested gently on the fabric on John’s chest. He could feel his heartbeat under the fabric, very faintly, but he could feel it.

“Are you sure about this, Kyle?”

So caring… that’s one of the reasons he loved him so much.

“As sure as I’ll ever be.”

John didn’t seem to need any more reassurance. He kissed Kyle again with even more force than last time, grabbing hard onto his waist as if he’d try to get away. Finally, Kyle let himself relax and revel in the moment. He wrapped his arms around John’s neck, feeling the lifting of his arms lift up his suit jacket. John took this opportunity to untuck his undershirt and slip his hands fully up underneath it, making his back tingle with the skin-to-skin touch. He was in heaven.

John’s lips left Kyle’s own, moving to the side and kissing from his cheeks to his jaw to his neck, making him groan a little “sir~”. He wanted to hit himself for that… it just slipped out. But his Captain didn’t stop. He kissed his neck, bit it, sucked it. The whole time, his hands were running up and down Kyle’s back, grabbing his waist. He seemed to be losing himself.

“Tell me…” John kissed his neck again, not even able to finish a full sentence. “Tell me to stop…”

Kyle closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Don’t! Don’t even think about stopping.”

Price growled and bit down on his neck, taking the skin between his teeth and leaving a mark there when he released it. He moved up next to Kyle’s ear and bit his earlobe before whispering in a raspy, growling voice.

“I want you too, Kyle.”

[justplainwhump]

Shifting

Under the hands of rogue WRU handlers - and her best friend - Angel falls apart.

Written with @wildfaewhump, and part of the very fun (for us) AU where rogue handles Fin and Piers make themselves at home in Angel's house to teach the runaways their place. Lourdes and Fin are their characters. This complements this piece from Lourdes' pov, written by Vic; the AU is kicked of by this and this piece.

Cw BBU, recapture scenario, (re)conditioning, dubcon, referenced past and implied future noncon, past beating, dissociation home invasion, pet whump. Whumper POV in the beginning (whumpee POV later).

"Alright, Piers. I’ll bite." His boss has been rummaging through Freckles' freezer. When he turns around to face Piers, there's a bag of frozen edamame in his hand, pressed firmly to his bloody chin. 

Piers smirks. Fin looks like an idiot. Getting himself punched by that pet, as she was almost getting away - there’s not much more humiliating for a seasoned handler like him.

Fin grimaces. "Ten bucks says Freckles is just as much of a bitch when your Doe-eyes is done with her. She almost broke my skull with that fucking bolt cutter. She would've pulled through, if we hadn't fucked that dumb stubborn strength right out of her." 

Shrugging, Piers reaches for his beer and takes a swig. "She looked hot doing it though. And you got all your punches in in return. Trust me. Her body is worn down. Some... softer persuasion now, and her mind will follow suit."

"Bitch was about to sacrifice herself for Doe-Eyes."

"And Doe-Eyes is about to sacrifice her to us." Piers grins, remembering the little talk with his own pet before. Oh, they were devoted. They wanted to be a good pet - and they wanted Freckles to be a good pet with an adorable, naive despair. As if it'd do any of them any good. "Who's suited better to wipe out all the idiot beliefs she clings to, than the sweet little pet she claims to love?" He points at the dossiers on the pets' training they've gotten from the WRU servers. "All she needs to be is hardwired in her stupid head already. Let Doe-Eyes push her buttons, and Freckles will be as good as a factory reset."

Fin clicks his tongue. "And just how are they going to do this?"

"Sharing a bath." Piers points upstairs. "Freckles is pretty much out of it, but Doe-Eyes is pulling all the stops. It's fucking hot. You might want to go watch, I'll hold the fort. My gift to you."

Fin scoffs. "It needs to be a lot more than a sexy bath to earn you those ten bucks. I want my pet sweet, stupid and docile; and if she ever gets her hands on a fucking bolt cutter again I want her dumb little brain to know that the only way she's going to use it is to fuck herself with it, while I watch."

"Mhhh." Piers just smiles, as he raises his beer. "Bet."

- 

"Please," Angel whimpers in the bathtub, as Lourdes’ expert fingers wander between her legs. Her friend’s touch is soft on her torn body. Gentle. Loving. 

Relentless.

They don’t hear her. They just go on. Kissing her. Touching her. Soothing, promising, arguing. 

She’s loved them, she thinks. They’ve loved her, too, differently. 

Do they, still? 

Does she, still?

Does it matter?

"It doesn’t matter," Lourdes whispers, as their fingers circle her clit. "You can keep making it hard, and keep hating it, and it's still going to happen. Why not let it be good? You know it could be so good."

Angel lets her head sink back against the side of the bathtub. There’s a bath cushion mounted there, softening the edge. She’s bought it, for them both, after they moved in, when they established their tradition of bath day, entire evenings spend in the warm bathroom and each other’s company, talking, drinking, listening.

Bath days are over.

It was an interlude.

Lourdes’ lips are on hers, tender and unrelenting. Their fingers slip into her, just as their tongue slips into her mouth.

Why not let it be good?

It’s up to her. 

She can make it good. She knows. She’s been made to be good. Just as they have.

She just has to let go. Of the past, of the pain, of the lie she’s lived. Let go of Angel Harris. Let go. 

Just be good.

Angel lets go.

The pet kisses back. 

She still kisses back, when the face in front of her is pulled away, pressed down, replaced by someone else, a man, a handler with a deep gash on his chin and a cruel smile. The pet - 238, Freckles, Angel, it doesn't really matter, as long as she's being good, as long as she's feeling good - doesn’t even flinch.

She's still good.

Good pets don't remember.

They don't, they shouldn't remember being in this very same room, being a person, being assaulted by that same man in their own bathroom. Good pets don’t remember the dread, the struggle, the resistance.

Good pets don't care about anything but their owner's pleasure. Good pets don't care about other pets. Good pets don't have friends, who they need to worry about, drowning or hurting or dying. Friends are for people. Pets only have owners.

Handler Fin is the centre of her world, and he's kissing her, he's making her feel good, and she's kissing him back, with desperate passion.

Her hips shift as she spreads her legs wider for the attention of the other pet, a tool in her owner's hand, she doesn't know how to worry. She knows how to fuck and to kiss and to be good.

The other pet, the one kept under water, the one she doesn't worry about, is keeping their mouth over her clit, gently sucking at it.

"Good girl" he whispers in her ear. "But Freckles may only come if she persuades me that she wants it. Tell me how badly Freckles needs this."

Underwater, the other pet twitches, the handler’s hand pressing keeps them down. 

The pet kisses him like she's she one drowning, desperate, needy, letting the warmth in her lower body simmer, wait, hold back for him. "Sir," she whispers, voice husky, just as she's learned. "I... I want this, I need this, but... I need you more. I... My pleasure is yours, Sir, please, allow me be good, let me finish, please." 

Let the pet finish, please, let them go, let me stop caring, please, let me be good. 

His free hand rests on her throat, squeezes lightly, almost loving. "Freckles has forgotten that I and me are no longer terms for her," he says mildly. "Freckles is not being very good. Why should a bad pet be allowed any pleasure?" 

Under the surface, a hand digs into her thigh painfully. 

The pet closes her eyes. She doesn't care. Please. 

That's what pets are for.

That’s what the one under the water is for. The one whose mouth has lost its former expertise, whose tongue is just twitching desperately. Who still sends ripples of pleasure through her body, because she's made for pleasure, for giving and receiving, always, whenever.

That's what she's for. Her. Freckles. 

"Freckles," she breathes. "Freckles is sorry, Freckles' learned other words for herself in training. Freckles mind is slow, because she's so confused, she has to learn so much, but... But she... She'll be better, she... Freckles is yours, Sir."

"Yes, Freckles is slow," he says. He tilts her head back against the tub, pulls her body by the neck until her back arches. "But Freckles will learn eventually. She has the rest of her life to learn." 

She feels him shove the other pet’s head firmly against her cunt. "Come, Freckles," he commands. 

The sound of his voice almost tips her over the edge almost as much as the pet's mouth, desperately sucking at her clit. 

Waves of pleasure wash over her, make her forget the ache lingering deep in her body, as she lets her back arch even further, gives him everything she has to offer. 

She's his. She knows. She's always been.

Her owner hauls the other pet out of the water by their hair, choking and fighting for breath, but Freckles has only eyes for him, and the affection she sees in his eyes. She is still trembling in the afterglow of her orgasm, the smile on her face all perfect, natural instinct. 

"Good girl, Freckles," he praises. "Freckles is beautiful when she comes for me."  

There's blood on her owner's chin, still. He's been hurt, by someone who didn't understand. Her fr-, Lou-, the other pet, they had always known. 

It's stupid to fight. Pets are meant to lose. Made to lose. But if they accept that, if they do lose in just the right way, if they do what pets do and they are pretty and desirable and fuckable, they can be rewarded still. And she wants to. She wants to be good and loved, and safe, she wants his hands on her like just now, not like - not like on the previous her. The before. The bad pet.

He reaches into the water, lifting her out with ease. It's a short shock, when he lets go of his hold. She finds footing, but the muscles in her legs aren't prepared, are too weak to hold her upright.  Her legs give in, and she yelps, as she collapses on the tiles at his feet, almost forgotten aches flaring up again all over her, echoes of him, her resistance, his anger. "I'm sorry," she whispers, gaze cast down in instant submission, "Sir, Freckles is so sorry, she's... You've had to punish her, and she's still hurting, still learning. It’s her fault."

"It’s alright." He smiles and strokes her head. "Freckles can crawl, if she can't stand." The affection in his touch makes the pet feel warm, in a way she hasn't felt warm for a long time. She nods, grateful for his guidance. Pets should always be grateful.

"Yes, Sir."

She can crawl, she can be on her knees, or on all fours, like a good pet. 

"Dry yourself first," he commands, settling himself on the side of the bathtub.  

She smiles at him, as she gets on her knees and lifts the towel to dry herself, careful and sensual, making sure the movements of the towel emphasizes every part of her body. She knows he likes her breasts, she's seen him leer at them so often, and thus she starts there, working through the pain when the towel runs over welts and bruises. 

She knows he likes her pain, too. She’s known before, she knows now, as he palms himself lazily through his pants, watching her.

By her side, she knows the other pet is drying themself as well. She doesn’t look over. She doesn't care about them, because it would only hurt them. Which doesn't make sense, because not wanting them to get hurt is caring, and she does not care. She bites her lips. It's okay to not understand. Pets are stupid. And she's nothing more than a pet. 

"Let's go to your room," her owner orders. "Get you ready."

She tries to push herself up to her feet once again. Her legs still can't make it. And he's leaving, steps out on the corridor expecting her to follow. She lets herself sink down on all fours and crawls after him, fighting through the burning sting of the soft carpet on her chafed knees.

 "Gonna find you something cute and fuckable to wear, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. The pet name soothes her pain, and she lets the warmth of her own affection for him wash over the strange feeling of wrongness. This is not his house, but she is his - and so it's natural for him to move around like he's a ruler, and for her to follow. 

He stops in front of the bedrooms, as if waiting for her to show him which door to open, and she glances at the one he's looking for, crawls into the room when he opens it.

The bedroom is large, all oriented towards the big windows, decorated with soft colours and light wood. The pet remembers being happy about this room, about it catching the vibes of the sky on a spring day. A bouquet of fresh flowers stands on a desk in the corner, next to a computer and headphones and a half finished glass of water. The bed isn't made, the blue duvet crumpled next to a stripped off set of clothes. The person who lived here has just left to take a shower.

The pet knows she won't come back.

[another-corpo-rat]

❛ do you really think you’re in a position to give orders? ❜ - for vic and adam please <3

ty so much for the prompt Bunny 💕 prompt list is here for anyone who wants to do this themselves <3

and oml im so sorry for how long this one took me to get to - i was fumbling for ideas for a lot longer than i care to admit, until the want for Vic to bully Adam a lil came about

❛ do you really think you’re in a position to give orders? ❜ Adam Smasher/OC Set during the '20s

It’s quite the sight; Adam Smasher bound and snarling. Synthetic muscle straining against rope – industrial strength, more a sturdy cabling truthfully: the sort used to secure minotaurs and tow basilisks, because she’s not an idiot.

Gemini frame or not, Victoria doesn’t doubt he’d have pulled himself free from any other sort, no matter how expertly tied the knots or quality the thread. Nothing organic could restrain the man and even synthetics were questionable, no, it had to be metal for him and that feels more than fitting.

“You just gonna fucking stare at me all night?”

She could, and would be more than happy to, even in the Gemini he was worth admiring. Especially now with his arms bounds behind him, working with the straight back of the chair to push his chest forward and the thick cabling pressing just below his pectorals, drawing her eye and the urge to bite.

Her eyes follow the needless flex of his muscle downwards to where his thighs tremble minutely, almost subtle as he tries to work against her efforts. The rope holds, but the legs of the chair groan in protest. She’d think he be comfortable there at least, with his habit of spreading his knees as wide as he can.

Standing between those spread legs, her fingers thread through thick locks of blonde hair. Soft, natural feeling to have fooled her once before. “You do make a pretty picture.”

“Aw, you’re making me blush. But if you don’t ride my dick—” Her fingers tighten into a curl, yanking his head back. It quietens him, slackens his jaw as surprise catches his tongue between its teeth.

“Do you really think,” she says soft and low, a gentle croon as she nips against the exposed column of his throat, “you’re in a position to give orders?”

His chest heaves with a needless breath, tongue swiping across his lips to wet them while a muscle twitches at their corner. The smile splits his face, a teeth-baring grin that wouldn’t look amiss with a splattering of blood. “I think I’m gonna fuck you hollow then throw you to the gutter.”

She hums and barely spares a thought towards the apparent threat. It was mild in the grand scheme of things, hardly even worth noting beyond the pleasant bite in that southern drawl and the needy twitch of his neglected cock. Pinching a nipple between the sharp point of nails, she’s much more interested in that; the sharp hiss of a breath, how his body arches into the sting. He raises his chin a little higher, the bob of his Adam’s apple prominent and tempting. An invitation she readily accepts, sinking her teeth into his neck.

The texture was familiar, disappointingly perfect in the imitation of skin. No tell of the metal frame beneath, no bitter tang waiting to greet her and sit on her tongue for days after, making every meal taste like him.

No sweat, no musk. Nothing beyond the days old lingering of a vaguely spiced, certainly cheap cologne and the smoky air of cigars. Nothing distinctly him. She never thought she’d find Adam lacking in any capacity, and she’ll continue with that; placing the blame solely at the feet of the Gemini’s manufacturers instead.

“Buttercup,” he tries, voice a little raspier than usual. Needier.

She eases, tongue lathering over where she had bit, thumb ghosting over where she nipped, and waits. It’s a tenderness he’s never extended to her; always keener to press his handprint into bruising skin, and she doubts he sees it as anything more than mockery veiled in affection now.

“Fine.” A bite of a word, sharper than her teeth because she won’t allow it to be otherwise. A hand braces against his shoulder, fingers curling, nails digging in as she finally straddles him.

A shared sound of relief as his cock slides into her is caught between their lips, soundly silenced.

[filthforfriends]

Familiar and Sweet

Vic x Tommy

Word count: 6k

Another installment of friends helping friends when they need to get railed properly.

She held the key card up to the light, testing if the plastic was at all translucent. It looked the exact same as her own, except this one opened Thomas’ hotel room. So many considerations that Victoria literally examined the tangible representation from different angles. They were friends with benefits when she occasionally ran out of other coping mechanisms. Thomas thoroughly enjoyed himself and it’d always been their normal. You can only put adolescents alone  in a soundproof practice room for so many hours, before they come up with alternative ways to amuse themselves.

It made Ethan and Damiano nervous. They cited Fleetwood Mac, one of Victoria’s favorite bands, and that couldn’t be playing fair. Thomas had sat in the corner staring at his hands and not speaking for the duration of the 20 minute argument. So they minimized hookups and Damiano stopped complaining when he realized the miracles Tom could perform on Vic’s mood during the occasional triste. 

Tonight, Victoria wasn’t out of coping mechanisms. She wasn’t on the verge of any sort of emotional implosion, besides being pretty damn homesick. Or maybe familiarity sickness was a better descriptor. After enough nights out, enough travel, even Victoria got tired of the energy it took to be experiencing everything for the first time, everyday. Humans are built for familiarity and her little piece of sweet-tempered familiarity was one keycard swipe away. 

She’d tried cuddling up to all the boys since they worked constantly, and work necessitated them being together. It was comforting, but Vic wanted a little more than leaning against Damiano’s chest while they shared a joint, or going for a piggyback ride on Ethan. Her last two hookups with Thomas had been too brief for either of them to do the deed properly. In general, getting dick was far from challenging, but after a couple crappy hookups that novelty exhaustion made it impossible to get off with new people. Vic wanted someone who knew what they were doing, whom she didn't have to explain her preferences ad nauseum. Vic wanted Thomas, and supplementation had proven futile.

He’d set his second keycard down on an end table at breakfast and forgotten about it. Hypothetically, Victoria really had meant to give it to him. She decided on this course of actions, plus some quality time with her travel toys. On the other side of the wall, she could feel Thomas rehearsing softly. Even without an amp the vibration of the steel strings carried through the insulation. She could text Tom to come get his key card, but going over there herself would make more sense. Then what? 

In the shower, Victoria bargained with herself. It’d be really comforting to share those very not casual cuddles she and Tom couldn’t do in front of the others. It’d been so long since they’d made out and Tom had a gentle mouth and soft lips. When they were broke and had to share a hotel room, her and Thomas always bunked together. In hindsight, being held every night had made those rough, early years doable. Fuck it. 

Victoria puts on a shirt and underwear before grabbing both key cards. She looked down the hall before slipping out of her room and into Tommy’s. The door beeps loudly when it opens and he is mostly asleep.

“Huh?” Thomas groaned, shielding his eyes from the light of the hall.

“Shit! Sorry Tommy.”

“What’s up?” he yawned as she let the door fall shut behind her.  

“Can I sleep here?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs. He doesn’t even bother asking questions as Victoria climbs in behind him. She pulls on his shoulder so Thomas flips on his back and Victoria lays on his chest. There's that familiar smell she loved last time, plus a soothing hand stroking under her t-shirt. Tom isn’t surprised when he feels neither bra nor pants on Vic, because he knows her well enough not to expect either. Her leg is slotted between his, resting on his boxers. The pressure makes Thomas partially erect. Neither pay any mind. If he wants something, Thomas knows he can ask, and Vic hopes he will too.

Everything about him is calming and soon she’s getting sleepy, even though Victoria intended to do a great deal more than be held.

“Want me to scratch your back?” she whispers, knowing the answer. He hums in enthusiastic agreement, removing his hand from under her shirt. Thomas turns over and Victoria straddles his glutes after giving his cute little butt a light smack. He snorts at the gesture, but melts into the mattress as soon as Victoria’s blunt nails run along his freckled back. Because she missed this, Vic is generous enough to massage Tom’s shoulders too. 

“You’re gonna be a hunch back if you don’t fix your posture,” she comments. By the light from the bathroom, she can already see the red lines her nails are leaving. Thomas is so pale that anything shows up on his skin. Victoria moves to his lower back, pressing her hands into the muscle then scratching lightly. Thomas shivers in delight at the sensation. She rolls down the elastic waistband on his boxers and he’s sweaty underneath. Victoria grins at getting Thomas a little worked up. She gives him another playful smack, this time on the other cheek, before getting off.

Tom doesn’t flip onto his back right away, expression sheepish, which is how she knows he’s got a boner. She scoots towards him, leaning in carefully for several seconds. Tom looks at her, her lips, and then his eyes close for a chaste kiss. Victoria keeps their mouths pressed together for a couple moments, before pulling away and gazing at Thomas amorously. Realizing that he needn’t be self-conscious about his arousal, Tom flips over to his side and does the thing that Vic keeps trying to explain to people. Along the side of her head, Thomas pushes all four fingers into Vic’s hair and runs his hand all the way to the back of her skull. He makes a fist, then gently tugs backward. It's the feeling a hairbrush gives, but intensified, with no sensation of pulling.

It’s such a relief to get what she’s been craving that Victoria outright moans. She’d even tried doing it to herself, but it didn’t quite work. Tom does the same motion behind her ear, warm palm cupping her neck. She completely relaxes in his hand, so his lips against hers are a wonderful surprise. Victoria almost doesn’t have time to reciprocate when he pulls away. She gives chase, finding Thomas’ mouth again, and this time the kiss has some substance to it. Even so, she opens her eyes and pulls away, scanning Thomas’ suitcase.

“Lube?” He reaches behind himself and onto the table for an opened single-use packet. He probably had it to make jerking off a little more pleasant 

“Mm, why don’t we masturabate together?” she wonders out loud, grabbing the packet. “Boxers off,” she orders, squeezing a bit of gel into her hand and letting it warm.

“I don’t know. That's a good ahh,” he moans, when Vic gets his cock in a fist.

“You still like it this way?” she asks, full strokes from base to tip, thumb swiping along the slit. Tom’s head falls backward and his lips part. Apparently he’s been missing the ease of hooking up with someone who knows exactly what he likes, too.

“Christ Vic, yeah that’s — that, mhm.” He shifts his hips to get more comfortable. “And if at the very top, just tighten?” She applies pressure as she approaches the ridge of Thomas’ cock, and his face twists. “Little less, just a little, fuck yeah, okay.” His eyes fall closed and once Victoria is confident in the rhythm, she resumes the kiss. Thomas doesn’t even try biting or french kissing when he’s distracted, just these passionate touches with a hint of tongue, where his lips are plush and relaxed. It's a lovely way to kiss.

Thomas' hand pushes up the back of Vic’s underwear, caressing and kneading her ass. She tries to shimmy in a way that might bring his hand between her legs, but Tom isn’t getting it. However, he is falling out of time and his cheeks are bright pink. Not wanting this to be the conclusion of the evening, she lets go of his cock. Thomas whines in betrayal and Victoria feels guilty.

“I know Tommy, I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll make you cum, but I want to do more,” she pleads. Still pouting, Tom opens his eyes and Victoria bumps their noses together affectionately.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, again. Of course, sweet Tommy doesn’t hold it against her for a second longer. He pushes a hand down the front of her underwear and feels how wet Victoria is, and has been.

“Couldn’t stand fucking another stranger?” Thomas asks. Victoria whines and nods, peeling her underwear down and kicking them off. Meanwhile, he carefully pushes a finger halfway inside.

“Thomas I just touched myself. Go faster.” He turns one finger into two, both taken without strain. Victoria searches for where she set down the lube packet, meanwhile Tom moves at lightning speed. He extracts his hand, jumps off the end of the bed, grabs Vic under the knees, and hauls her down to meet him.

“What the fuck are you – oh my fucking god,” she moans. Tom presses his face between Vic’s legs, tongue tracing her hymen. She gets a handful of his hair and falls against the mattress, chest heaving.

“Thomas, you are my favorite person in the whole world.” He hums between her legs, shaking his head back and forth. His pointed tongue finds her clit almost immediately, and Vic is spasming in pleasure. It’s so much better than a vibrator. Thomas’ mouth is hot, wet, and attentive.

“Can you – with your nose, you remember?” Tom resituated so his nose was sitting against Victoria’s clit while his tongue found its way between her labia. “Of fucking course you do,” Vic moans, pulling his hair. He nods against her, throwing both her thighs over his shoulders. Tom gets a tight grip with his hands and uses it to press his face against her cunt securely. Vic mewls, back arching. His tongue laps at the area in the center of her folds, right above her opening. Every time he shifts position, Thomas’ nose delivers a little extra friction. It's substantial enough that a ball of pressure is tightening in her core, and the prospect of actual release makes Victoria a little more desperate than she’d like to be.

“Tommy, I think I can cum. Oh my god, Tommy please make me cum. I’ll do…I’ll do anything. Fuck!” He inserts two digits forcefully, curling them upward to locate her g-spot. When he finds it Tom rubs back and forth with the pads of his fingers gently. He preferred very intentionally applying light force to erogenous zones. It prompted more blood flow to the area, and thereby more sensation Patience was key. So few people understood that you couldn’t rush someone's body towards orgasam. 

Upon finding Victoria’s clitorous with his mouth, Thomas holds the little cluster of nerves between his lips and applies suction. The contrast had Vic seeing stars as her toes curled.

“You’re so amazing,” she panted, the tension inside her increasing. “I’m so close Tommy, just please, please, ah!” The tip of Tom’s tongue flicked against her clit. He made his hand movements a little rougher and Victoria’s heels began pounding on his back. This is always how she acted before a good orgasam: undulating her cunt against his face while kicking him, both accidental.

“Please! Tommy, thank you,” she whined, finding the edge. With no situational constraints it was easy to prompt Vic’s orgasam. Nothing was hotter to Thomas than the woman he just got off thanking him as she came. He didn’t mind the taste of Vic’s pussy which meant she got stimulation all the way through her climax. When Victoria squirmed, he had to hold down her hips with his forearm. She squealed thanks as he pushed his tongue inside her cunt, feeling each contraction of pleasure.

As soon as the aftershocks began, Tom pushed Victoria’s legs apart to get a breath of air. He stood up, towering over her as she twitched on his hotel bed, smiling drunkenly. As soon as Vic got her wits about her, she sat up and took Tom’s cock in her mouth. He was looking around for more lube in case they needed it, when suddenly his tip was against Vic’s soft palette. It knocked the wind out of him, so much so that Thomas had a hand on Victoria’s shoulder for balance's sake.

His head fell back, eyes closed as Tom enjoyed the sensation of Victoria’s mouth, then throat. Because of variation in gag reflexes, it wasn’t fair to expect every girl to know how to deep throat. Secretly however, it was Thomas’ absolute favorite sex act. His cock was long enough to where he could really enjoy it, but not so girthy that Victoria’s jaw locked up.

“I forgot,” pant, “how good,” huff, “your blow jobs were.” Victoria hummed in gratitude, prompting Thomas to let out a groan of intense pleasure, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck’s sake,” he grunted as she sucked down harder, one hand grasping his hip. She moaned around his cock, like the taste was pleasant or she enjoyed the sensation. It was for Tom’s benefit, since his biggest turn-on was his partner getting off. His cock twitched in Victoria’s mouth when she tightened her free hand around the base of Tom’s shaft. He stops her ministrations before he gets too close to finishing. 

“Okay, okay, condom,” he huffs. Vic kisses Tom’s hip and walks over to his suitcase. He’s still recovering, trying to make himself last for Victoria’s sake. She’d been horny enough to wake him up in the middle of the night.

“They’re – they’re on the side.” She stands up, condom in hand. “Which you know already,” he grins, catching his breath. Victoria resumes her previous position, rolling the rubber onto Tommy’s shaft herself with care. She takes him into her mouth once more before Thomas pulls her into a standing position. Wordlessly, Vic turns around and her hands have barely hit the mattress by the time Thomas enters her from behind. After a couple awkward thrusts he pulls out.

“Bed’s too short,” he grunts.

“Yeah. Bathroom?”

“Mhm.” She stumbles into the adjoining room and props her forearms on the counter. The dimmer set of lights is on, because Tom could never sleep in complete darkness. Iit takes Victoria’s pupils a second to adjust, squinting.  He’s right behind her, pillow in hand.

“Elbows,” he instructs, having Vic’s arms rest on the cushion rather than the hard edge of the bathroom counter.

“God love you Thomas.” He thrusts in again and this time everything makes sense anatomically. Instead of rapidly pistoning up and down, Tom applies pressure thrusting forward first, then up. The movement isn’t frenzied, making sure he’s actually approximating the location of Vic’s g-spot correctly. He is, and she falls forward while crying out in satiation. It’s a disproportionate reaction, but Vic had been laboriously searching for this stimulation and finally finding someone who could give it to her was heavenly.

“That desperate, are we amica?” he chuckles.

“Shut up and fuck me,” she quips. Thomas does exactly that, increasing his pace. Usually Victoria loves rapid thrusting. However, it’d been too long since she’d been penetrated deep and slow and Tommy knew how to do it properly.    

“Wait, wait, can we go slow this time?” she pants.

“That sounds really good,” he agrees, also a little breathless. He kisses the back of Victoria’s head and meticulously inserts his entire shaft into her pussy, grinding a bit at the end just to be sure. In this position it's a straight shot all the way to the back of her vaginal canal. When she clenches, he knows he’s hit that special spot tucked right up against her cervix. She moans pornographically, muffled in the pillow.

“Good?”

“Mm, mhm. That – you told me about, uh.” Victoria interrupts herself with a mewl. “I read about it. A-spot?” Vic had mentioned after their last hookup that it felt like her g-spot changed positions, only to have Thomas inform her that there were two completely different erogenous zones internally. He’d been surprised she didn’t know, but once he saw how insecure that made her, he assured that it wasn’t common knowledge.

“Yeah this, fucking hell,” he groaned. Thomas tried adding a little speed for the last couple inches and Vic collapsed on the counter-top instantly. She started releasing these really desperate whines from the back of her throat.

“You close?” he panted, unsure what to make of the sound.

“No, just feels really fucking good,” she moaned, stamping her foot to externalize some of the sensation. Vic had started sweating from arousal herself and Tom ran a hand up from the base of her skull, tugging her hair as he had earlier. She outright wailed in a way he hadn’t heard in months, pushing Thomas’ hand between her legs to her clit. He felt kinda bad for teasing her for being so pent up.

Blindly, he searched for her clit, but Victoria was there to help him. She guides his index and middle finger to the sensitive bud, showing Tom exactly how she wanted to be touched, and not releasing his hand until she was sure he got it right. Victoria tried to sink into sensation, giving the clitoral stimulation time to work its magic. While she was absolutely getting wetter, she wasn’t getting closer to orgasam. Maybe letting Thomas choose how he rubbed her would have been better, because her own instructions weren’t yielding results. Meanwhile her pussy was literally throbbing, certain places growing so sensitive that it was no longer enjoyable. Touching herself first may not have been the excellent idea she thought it was.

Tom could recognize Victoria’s noises of frustration, when she got in her head. It happened regularly during sex and made Vic absolutely furious with herself. With other partners she’d fake an orgasam to get it over with, but Thomas was patient. Maybe that's why she craved these interactions: no performance anxiety.

“That was fun for me. Let’s do something you like,” he announces, pulling her off the counter. Victoria stumbles over to the bed, scooting up. Thomas grabs a new packet of lube, ripping it open with his teeth and squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. He knelt between Victoria’s parted legs, massaging some onto her clit. Her eyes rolled back and she murmured something encouraging that he couldn’t quite understand. When Tom went to lubricate his shaft, he realized he’d grabbed way too much product and wiped it on the sheets.

“Kneel with my calves on your shoulders,” she instructs. 

“Okay, okay,” he pants, knowing exactly the position Victoria was requesting from experience. Thomas sits back on his heels, pulling Vic down the mattress to meet him as he had earlier. After putting her legs up, actually getting inside involves some effort. She holds her pelvis up while Tom angles his cock down. It’s an awkward position to transition into, but once the tip is inserted, he hauls Victoria onto his lap and thereby down on his cock. Her right hand is gripping his flank while the left is twisted in the sheets. Wanting to make the position more secure, Thomas pulls Vic so tightly against him that the backs of her thighs rest on his stomach and his sack is nestled under her ass. She can feel the soft, fragile skin, warmer than everything else and is careful with her weight distribution.

Tommy thrusts forward and back, hitting Victoria’s g-spot on every stroke. Having her abdomen curled like this made that erogenous zone much more accessible, and he can see her enjoying it. Her entire face reddened and saliva collected in the corners of her mouth. Victoria arched everywhere, all the way down to her feet. Even though sex always involved skin to skin, this was a lot of physical contact for a stranger. It’s not the kind of position you whip out during a first hookup, and they were never anywhere long enough for a second date. 

It was intimate, forcing you to look at the other person’s face, which meant you were constantly worried about your expression. Thomas knew he had a double chin from this angle, and Victoria was the only person with whom he didn’t give a fuck. She was equally grateful no matter how ragged he looked. Right now, the majority of Vic’s body was on his lap. The hand that had been strangling the bedding relaxed and her head lulled. He held her up with one hand and the other found her clit, but she flinched at the direct contact.

“Too much,” she groaned. Tommy applied his lightest touch, barely there and wondered why Victoria was oversensitive already. Then he remembered she’d already masturbated tonight. Sex following the amount of time she’d likely spent with a vibrator would make anyone uncomftorable.

“Next time ask me first,” he panted. Her hips were still jolting from minimal stimulation, nails digging into Tom’s thigh. He stilled his hand and tried to remember the location of the ice machine, because lube was definitely not the issue. Impeding Tommy's thinking abilities was the amount of time he’d been sporting this boner. He needed Vic to cum so he could cum, but that required clitoral stimulation. Watching her breasts jiggle every time she took a heaving breath was not helping the situation. The giant t-shirt had fallen around her neck in a rumple of fabric, leaving her essentially naked.

Thomas looked down to where their bodies met. Each out stroke his shaft glistened with Vic’s natural lubrication. When he pushed his hips towards her, not all of the discharge made it back inside. She was so wet that it dripped beyond the pink rim of her cunt, stretched around Tommy’s girth. The pale skin of her taint began glistening too. Eventually, a milky white drop, likely a mixture of lubrication and pre-cum ran down her body and fell on Thomas’ thigh. Their skin began sticking together, and the flower of Vic’s vulva was wetted with her arousal too. He could smell her cunt: tangy and alluring.  

She started hysterically whining again, both hands strangling the bedding and Tom heard stitches rip. Meanwhile, Victoria was trying to understand why g-spot stimulation was radiating so deeply inside her core. She anticipated a surprisingly intense orgasam, but the pressure kept building, like a tightening knot. Her mind wasn’t clouded as in the moments before climax, but there was certainly some pent up facet of her sexuality that was demanding attention right the fuck now.

Tom knew Victoria was about to cum hard when her hand went searching for his. Even though her physicality isn’t what he’d come to expect of her orgasams, desperate hand-holding was a tell-tale sign. Sometimes Victoria got intimidated by her own pleasure, and needed Thomas to make her brave, because she couldn’t do it alone. Knowing it was the home stretch, Tommy stopped holding back his orgasam so they could cum together. He let it rise inside him, just as inevitable as the tide rolling in. 

Internally, Vic was screaming at herself to just have whatever this weird orgasam was, so the pressure could release. Tommy pouted his lower lip, making quiet, guttural grunts. His abdominal muscles flexed and his cock twitched. He’d been so patient, waiting for Vic to finish. They’d been at it so long that despite using the bathroom right before showering, she already had to pee again. Victoria finally realized what this sensation was, and sprinted towards it at full tilt. This wasn’t orgasam, not yet at least. She was on the edge of something much more powerful.

“Tommy, tommy, please just a little bit more,” she cried out. “I’m so close. I’m so fucking close, just fucking PLEASE!” Thomas was startled by how desperate Victoria’s voice sounded and tried to hold on. Very quickly it became impossible because of Vic’s natural reaction to nearing climax. She tensed everything and moaned freely, like there wasn’t a soul for miles. Even as he came, Tommy tapped into the perpetual motion of his body, moving against Vic’s while his mind went blank. 

Victoria felt herself release two seconds before the evidence appeared. Thomas was nearing the end of his orgasam when she squirted on his stomach, chest, and neck, rabidly rubbing the ridge of Tom’s cock along her g-spot as she did so. She humped him like she’d never known shame in her life, mouth wide open as the pleasure coursed through her. More ejaculate landed on the base of his cock. Tommy wrapped his free arm under her back as support, letting himself be used. It was the best part of the entire evening by far.

When her hips finally slowed, Tom couldn’t help his curiosity. He lent down and gently licked Victoria’s pussy with the tip of his tongue. Her ejaculate was tangy as well, and mildly sweet. It was a pleasant flavor, something he’d like to taste again. Thomas looked at himself and between Victoria’s legs. Her orgasam had been explosive. Squirt was everywhere, a clear liquid that clung to Tom’s chest hair. His pubic hair was soaked, as were the inside of her thighs. The dimpled tissue of Victoria’s cellulite was soft and malleable in Thomas’ grip. He held her appreciatively, running his hands along her legs.

“That was so fucking sexy, Vic. I can’t believe how much you squirted,” Tommy exclaimed in admiration. Vic felt giggly, enjoying the fact that Tom’s cock hadn’t softened much. She was appreciating how endearing the soft spot under Tommy’s chin was, when she noticed it was wet. He followed her eyes and felt a little pang of insecurity. 

“It got under your chin,” she clarifies, following his train of thought. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh!” Tommy laughed, wiping away. 

“God I needed that so bad,” she hums. 

“Yeah, you did,” Thomas agrees. “You’ve got to teach people how to make you squirt because it's not that hard, amica.” She groans dramatically.

“But I always get in my own head!”

“I’ve noticed,” he responds, kindly. Thomas pulls out by backing up, placing Victoria on the bed. She notices that he’s still mostly hard as he ties off the condom. Thomas was usually a one and done type of guy, but if he was aroused enough he could do a round two. Deciding on at least trying, Victoria slides onto the carpet and crawls so she's knelt in front of Thomas. He sits on the edge of the bed, experimentally giving his cock a couple pulls. Instead of administering a normal blowjob, she calibrates way down. Victoria uses only her tongue, licking up his shaft, around the ridge, into the slit. Tom tastes like silicone, which isn’t awesome, but dicks generally taste unpleasant anyways.

“You wanna try to go again?” Victoria grins and nods adamantly. “Okay,” Thomas huffs. “Suck just the head, really gentle. Like really gentle.” Vic starts by simply closing her mouth and sealing her lips around Tom’s shaft. She presses her tongue against his frenulum and applies the tiniest bit of suction. He bites his lip, eyes fluttering, a hand to Victoria’s cheek. She’s absolutely thrilled to feel his cock perking up inside her mouth, and hums happily.

“Alright, can we do something boring?” he murmurs. Victoria nods again. She bobs her head slightly, hell bent on getting Thomas all the way hard. He was already erect enough to enter her, and a couple thrusts would do the rest. He holds her chin between his index finger and thumb, lifting her mouth off of his shaft.

“Could we maybe just do missionary?” Victoria suggests. “Or is that too boring?” 

“Mm-mm,” he affirms, helping Victoria onto the bed. She crawls up to his pillows, finding an open lube packet on her way. Vic holds it up victorious, after laying down. Tommy takes it from her, squeezing the remaining gel directly onto his cock and slicking himself up.

“Can we – not like, normal missionary, but how you do it,” Victoria tries. “The way you sort of –”

“I know how you like missionary, Vic,” Tommy reminds her with a wink. She always got anxious that he would forget. Maybe it’d been too long or there’d been too many other lovers in between. It was irrational, because she didn’t have this fear with literally any other position. Maybe because missionary was so universal, that after enough repetitive, mediocre sex she started to wonder if her memory was just imagination. 

Tommy crawled between her generously spread legs, entering her cunt with ease. This was the part where Vic held her breath, in fear he’d just start thrusting like everyone else. Instead, Thomas walked his hands forward, bringing his body higher and his cock against her g-spot. Once his collar bones were eye level, Tommy rested the full weight of his pelvis against Victoria’s clit. Instead of moving in and out, he rocked up and down. The down stroke stimulated her clitorous externally, and the up stroke stimulated it internally. This motion, as opposed to thrusting, would make Thomas last longer. It didn’t get him the heavenly friction that deep strokes did, but considering this was round two, that was a good thing.

Victoria sought out a grip that could intensify the sensation, but Tommy’s entire back was slippery with sweat. Curling forward, she was able to reach the round muscle of his glutes. It might scandalize a new boyfriend, but resting both hands on Tommy’s ass, Vic could make the movement of his hips more severe, pulling his cock deeper inside her pussy.

The g-spot stimulation was simply unmatched. Everytime he rocked up, Thomas surged forward so far that only the top half of his cock was penetrating, the lower half brushing her clit. With a grip on his ass, Vic could make sure that every pulsating inch possible remained inside her. On the way down, she followed with her own hips to keep Tommy close and found that made the grinding so delicious she could barely stand it. Organically, her hips took to mirroring Tom’s. They both set into a rhythm that allowed Vic to let go with her hands, and wrap her legs around Thomas’ back instead. The same glorious friction was achieved by Victoria resting her heels on Tommy’s tailbone. They undulated forwards and backwards, Vic’s legs keeping Tom tightly against her. 

It was so precisely what she’d been craving for weeks that Vic began to cry in satiation. Fucking finally. After squirting and now with her favorite stimulation on the planet, of course she found orgasam. 

“I’m gonna cum, but please don’t change anything,” her voice wobbled. “Don’t change anything,” she whispered, tearing running down her cheek. For Thomas this stimulation was decent, but he could feel Vic shaking underneath him. Not just her legs, but her entire body trembled, all the way to her finger tips. He wondered, nay hoped, that she might squirt again. Tom had met few people who were even capable of squirting twice in a row. He’d never been the cause personally. 

At first he thought Vic was humming in pleasure, but he soon realized that the noise was whimpering. Looking down, he saw her eyes screwed shut, and her face wet with tears. Her heels dug into his lower back painfully, trying to bring his groin closer so Vic could rub herself against him more thoroughly. Tommy wanted to stop and check in, but she’d literally begged him not to change anything. Still, the sound bordered on wounded. It was these unsettling, repetitive high pitched sounds.

Her climax might have snuck up on Thomas, but Vic was waiting in glorious rapture for all these sensations to reach a peak. The anticipation was almost deadly, but Tommy was so effective in his movement that she was cumming in no time. Vic took a sharp breath, a couple more tears falling, and moaned low and husky.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she chanted, until her voice broke. Victoria’s mouth fell open and she cried out three times, while avidly grinding against Tom. Her heels pounded against his back. No one had the guts to just blatantly use his body like Victoria did. She didn’t even ask and always milked climaxes for every bit of pleasure she could glean. In the most intense moments, Thomas was a very willing surface from which she could attain friction. It turned him on so violently that his heart pounded in his ears.

He could feel the necessity of his own orgasam, but Victoria was still cumming. True to form, she was using Thomas’ body to extend her own pleasure as much as possible. Brow furrowed in focus, breathing deep, she’d managed to milk her orgasam for at least a minute. He couldn’t interrupt, forcing himself not to. She’d begged him not to. Thomas extended all his focus to not cumming, to the point that it ached and his body cried out in descent. They should have taken the extra 30 seconds to put on a condom. It was a stupid, amateur move.

As soon as Victoria’s eyes tried to flutter open, Tommy tried to back up. Problem was she had maintained an iron grip on his waist with both her legs for the better part of 15 minutes. That grip had been the source of her pleasure and Vic’s critical thinking skills hadn’t returned yet. Thomas had a look of urgency on his face that made Victoria’s eyes go wide. He struggled for speech. When he managed, Tommy’s voice was high pitched and desperate.

“Pull out! Let go! Let go!”

“Oh, shit!” Vic relaxed her legs and Tom wrenched backwards. He took a heaving breath, wincing at how cold the air was without her warmth. The second their bodies parted Victoria pulled Tommy against her, so he wasn’t alone in his climax. That would be so unfair. 

He fell forward into her arms, warm again, surrounded by Victoria’s feminine softness. As soon as his cock brushes her stomach he’s cumming. It was close, too close. Less than a couple seconds. Tommy makes a choking sound, then collapses. His cock twitches painfully as ropes of semen are ejaculated between their bodies. Vic is already looking forward to a shower, but for now Tommy needed her attention. She rocks them side to side. The soothing rhythm is a distraction from how long Tom’s been incapacitated by pleasure, and how vulnerable being guided through his climax like this feels.

Victoria pushes his hair from his face to help with this disorientation. There's a significant lag between when the ejaculation stops and when Tommy comes back into his body. He freezes, then sits up hastily upon realizing how long Vic’s been stuck with him splayed out on top of her. Thankfully, her expression is one of amusement, not annoyance. 

He fingers combs the back of his hair compulsively, glancing at Vic. She’s wearing that cocky, wry grin that she’d mastered years ago. Her expression said I know I just rocked your world and she was right. It's enough to have Thomas bashfully avert his eyes downward. Of course, on the way he runs into the evidence of a collective five climaxes and checks on her expression again, before bursting into squeaky laughter. It breaks the silence and Tom is smiling so wide his gums show. The huge spike in oxytocin is whats got him giggling, he’d never laugh at her after sex. 

With another partner, Victoria might apologize for squirting on them without warning, but Tommy is a little bit nasty and they both know he’s into it. He liked being used by his partner for their pleasure to the point that it bordered on a degradation kink in Vic’s opinion. One of the many perks of their unique friendship.

Notes: Whipped this one out in three days so excuse any errors! I've written two other one shots with these two, but never anything in depth *wink* Thanks for reading!

-XOXO, Eden

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[dumbass-extraordinaire]

Hips Don’t Lie

Cassie schemes.  Bart wears a skirt.  Jaime has a crisis.

      The skirt is red and falls to his mid-thigh.  It swishes and flares as Bart turns to inspect his reflection in the changing room mirror.  What had Cassie called it?  An “anime girl” skirt?  It’s a pretty apt description from what little anime Bart’s watched with Jaime.  He grins, enjoying the way the pleats flare as he moves.

      Bart was skeptical when Cassie suggested they go shopping together, but he’s glad he took her up on the offer.  This is really fun!

      He calls over his shoulder, “Alright, I’m ready for you to see!”

      “Hit me,” Cassie replies.

      He steps out of the changing room, “What do you think?”

     Cassie grins at him and claps her hands together, “Damn, boy!  You’re rocking that skirt!”  Her eyes light up, and Bart can practically see the lightbulb go off, “Ooh, I’m gonna get one too!  That way we can match.”

      He grins back at her, “Crash!”

...

      It is a well-known fact that Cassie Sandsmark is a menace.  In fact, she prides herself on it.  So when she’d seen the way Jaime and Bart look at each other, she couldn’t not get involved.  Of course, she also really does enjoy hanging out with Kid Flash Two: Electric Boogaloo.  The kid’s a hoot, and smart as hell.  They are deffo going shopping together again, no question.

      “Wait here,” she tells him, “I’m gonna give you a rock and roll entrance.”

      Bart grins wickedly at her, “Oooh, are you gonna do your radio announcer voice.”

      “Hell yeah I am, homie,” she says returning his grin with equal fire.  She marches into the living room, where the Outsiders are all lounging on various pieces of furniture.

      “Attention!  Can I get a drumroll please?!” she shouts.  Then, in her best approximation of a 1940′s radio dj, she says, “Please welcome the hottest bitch in town, our very own Bart Allen!”

      Bart jumps out of the doorway, starfishing his arms and legs and jazzing his hands, a sunny grin stretched across his face and his skirt fluttering around his legs.  God he’s adorable, like a fucking puppy this one is.  She just wants to pinch his cheeks, and wow she is turning into her grandma.

      The team’s reactions are all positive, as she’d known they would be.  None of them are assholes, and if they were she’d kick their asses into next week.

      Ed wolf-whistles good-naturedly and Gar gives a big thumbs up, while Virgil nods appreciatively.  Tim shakes his head at their dramatics and Vic raises an eyebrow and quirks his lips, but doesn’t say anything.

      Dr. Jace looks up from her computer, “You both look very nice,” she says, her voice warm.  

      Violet beams at them as well, “Yes, and you are both matching!  That is very nice!”

      Jaime’s reaction is the most satisfying.  He takes one look at Bart and his eyes go wide.  If Cassie’s not mistaken, and she rarely is, then his brown skin is flushed at the cheeks.  She mentally pumps her fist.  Score one for Sandsmark!  We have a blush, people!

      Bart bounds over to his best friend, beaming, “Check it out, her-man-oh!  Cassie took me shopping yesterday!”  He does a little spin, making the skirt flare out around him.  “Isn’t it totally crash?”

      Jaime’s stares at Bart and actually bites his lip.  Cassie doesn’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.  “Oh, wow.  Uh, si, yes, very crash,” he stutters, his accent thickening slightly.

      Cassie smirks.  Her plan is working.

...

      Jaime feels like his brain is melting.  Bart in a skirt.  Bart in a skirt.  He doesn’t know how to handle this.  The skirt is red and pleated and only reaches Bart’s mid-thigh.  And, ay dios mio, the fucking socks!  They squeeze Bart’s thighs slightly, and Jaime feels like he’s going to overheat.

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da begins.

      “Shut up,” he hisses at the scarab, “I am so not dealing with you right now!”

      Bart beams at him.  He’s gotten taller in the years he’s been here, tall enough that Jaime has to look up at him.  Dios en el cielo, Jaime thinks, he’s fucking cute.  Then his brain short circuits again because fuck, he thinks Bart is cute.  Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck.

     And because the universe hates him personally, Khaji Da chooses that moment to report, “Your vitals indicate that you are experiencing sexual attraction, Jaime Reyes.”

      “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” he thinks desperately.  His ears are burning, and he knows his face is probably beet-red.

      Khaji Da continues, “Reccomended course of action: copulate with the Bart Allen.”

      Jaime makes a strangled, high-pitched noise, his brain coming to a screeching to a halt.  “What the fuck?  No!” he splutters at the scarab, “Gah, shut up, just no!”

      “It is the logical course of action,” it insists.

      He can feel his eye start to twitch, “In what world?!”

     “I do not see why you are so opposed to this.”

     “Because it’s literally the worst possible suggestion ever!”

     “Your hormone levels indicate otherwise.”

     Jaime snaps.  “I am not having sex with Bart!” he shouts.

     “Holy shit,” Gar whispers, and Jaime feels all the blood drain from his face.

     Fuck, he said that out loud.  He said that out loud, with Bart in the room.  This is the worst possible timeline.

     Bart is staring at him, wide-eyed and red-faced.  “What,” the speedster squeaks.

     Nope.  Jaime is not dealing with this.  He is going to find a hole to hide in for the next one hundred years.  He turns around and flees the common room.

     Bart is following him, and Jaime absolutely cannot deal with that conversation right now (or ever), so he throws open the nearest door.  It’s a storage closet, and the irony of that is not lost on Jaime, but beggars can’t be choosers.  Unfortunately, Bart just zips up to him and grabs his arm before he can get the door closed.

      Bart’s cheeks are still bright red, and when they lock eyes Jaime freezes.  Bart opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything Cassie shoves them backwards into the closet and shuts the door.  As they tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs, the click of the lock is a funeral knell to Jaime’s ears.

      Jaime lands on his back with Bart on top of him, warm and solid against his legs.  Bart stares at him.  Jaime stares back.

      “Uh,” he says intelligently.  Bart is practically sitting on his lap, and Jaime silently wills his body not to react.  He’s had enough embarrassement for one day.

      “Hi,” Bart says.  Then, “Your hands are on my waist, Blue.”

     Bart is right.  Jaime had grabbed Bart out of pure reflex when Cassie pushed them and his hands are still clutching Bart’s waist.

     He recoils, “Shit, lo siento, Bart.”

     Bart shrugs, “It’s all crash,” he says easily, like any of this is normal.

     They sit in silence for a few seconds.  “So, ese, you gonna move or what?” Jaime asks, forcing lightness into his voice.

     Bart quirks his lips and rolls off of Jaime’s legs.  The skirt bunches up as Bart moves, and Jaime catches a glimpse of pale thigh.  His face burns, heat rushing down his spine.  He leans against the wall, trying to think of anything other than Bart’s weight in his lap.  Bart’s eyes flicker to him, then away.  Neither of them speak.  Jaime stares determinedly at the ceiling.  The silence is oppressive, and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

     Bart coughs, breaking the silence, “So, uh... Y’wanna tell me what’s going on in that big blue noggin of yours?”

     “No,” Jaime replies curtly.

    “Oh,” Bart says.  He drums his fingers on his thigh, fidgeting.  After a minute, “But, Jaime... What happened with you back there?”

    “Hijo de puta,” Jaime curses.  He should’ve known Bart wouldn’t leave well enough alone.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

    Bart frowns, “Hey, you’re the one that freaked out and ran.”

    “Yeah, because I didn’t want things to be awkward!” he snaps.

    Bart stares at him, “You didn’t want things to be awkward.  You’re the one that said you wanted to, y’know, with me.  I didn’t do anything!”

    “Ugghh, I did not say that,” he groans, burying his face in his hands, “Madre de dios, that stupid bug.”

     Khaji beeps affrontedly, “I simply stated the obvious.”

    “I am NOT talking to you right now,” he snaps.

    Bart’s horrorified yelp is almost funny, “The scarab wants to do it with me?!”

    Khaji hisses, puffing up in Jaime’s mind like an angry cat, “Organic copulation disgusts me.”

    “Again, not talking to you!” he repeats.  Then, “No, Bart,” he says aloud, “that’s not what it said.”  He grits his teeth, “The scarab thinks I’m attracted to you,” he mumbles from behind his hands.

    Silence.  Complete silence.  Jaime risks a look and sees that Bart’s mouth has fallen open in shock and his eyes are roughly the size of dinner plates.

    “Bart?” he says nervously.  His chest feels funny and he’s panicking, because he does not want to lose his best friend over something as stupid as this.

    Bart blinks at him.  His cheeks are flushed again, and he says, “Would that,” he licks his lips, “Would that really be such a bad thing?”  He looks down, not meeting Jaime’s eyes.

     It’s Jaime’s turn to stare.  “What,” he says flatly.

     Bart’s shoulders hunch, “I just mean,” he starts, then presses his lips together.  “Would that really be so awful?  If you liked me?”

     Jaime’s head is spinning.  This entire day has been one mindfuck after another and he doesn’t know how to handle any of it.  He’s so confused and his insides are twisting themselves into knots.

      “Mierda, Bart, I don’t know,” he says, “I don’t know how I feel about any of it.”  It feels like a confession, though he’s not sure what he’s confessing to.

     Bart bites his lip, brow creased.  His fingers are drumming so fast they’re a blur and in this moment he looks very small.  Jaime wants to reach out, but he doesn’t know how and that scares him.

     Finally, Bart meets his gaze.  His expression is strange, several different emotions clashing behind his eyes.  He crawls up to Jaime, so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose.  His hand comes up to cup Jaime’s cheek, and Jaime stills at the contact. 

     Bart’s words blur together, “CanIjusttrysomething?”  He takes a breath, “Can I just try something?”

     Sparks dance along Jaime’s spine.  Bart’s breath is warm on his face and his hazel eyes are wide and vulnerable.  Jaime doesn’t know what he wants, but Bart is so close and he feels fragile all of a sudden.  He nods, swallowing, and Bart leans in.  Jaime inhales, eyelids fluttering.  Bart’s lips are warm against his own, and he instinctively tilts his head to get a better angle.  Bart makes a soft noise in the back of his throat that does funny things to Jaime’s chest.  

      Khaji Da retreats, skittering deep into his mind and hissing with disgust; Jaime huffs a laugh.

      This is good.  This is really fucking good and he doesn’t want to stop.  His hands settle on Bart’s thighs as the hand cradling his cheek slides up to tangle into his hair.  Bart sucks at his bottom lip, sending jolts of electricity through him.  

      Oh, he thinks, Oh wow.  He gasps, and then Bart’s tongue is in his mouth and both his hands are in his hair and Jaime stops thinking at all.  He growls, pulling Bart into his lap, and the speedster hums approvingly as he slides their tongues together.  Bart’s blunt nails rasp over his scalp as he kisses Jaime with all the wild ferocity of a hurricane.  He’s vibrating in Jaime’s lap and his hands have moved to his waist, sliding up Jaime’s shirt as he mouths at his jaw.

      Jaime pulls back, breaking the kiss with a choked-off moan, “Espera, Bart wait, slow down, por favor chiquito.”  Bart stills, his hands burning like a brand against the skin of his chest.  

      He pulls away and blinks up at Jaime, cheeks flushed and mouth red.  “Totally crash,” he breathes, sounding dazed.  

      Jaime laughs, fondness fizzing in his chest like champagne.  He’s drunk on this, on Bart’s hands on his skin and his smile and the high spots of color on his cheeks; he’s drunk on Bart.  

      Bart grins at him, hazel eyes lighting up, and in that moment he’s brighter than the sun.  “If I’d known this is what would happen, I’d’ve asked Cassie to take me shopping a long time ago,” he teases.

      “Madre de dios,” Jaime mutters and buries his face in his hands, flustered.  Then, “Wait,” he says, hit with a sudden realization, “Cassie fucking planned this,” he hisses and untangles himself from Bart, heading for the closet door.

      “You planned this, didn’t you!” he shouts, banging his fist on the closet door.  “Chica, I swear if you don’t open this door right now-!”  The door swings open to reveal a smug Wonder Girl.

       “I can neither confirm nor deny those accusations, my friend,” Cassie says solemnly.  She peers over his shoulder at Bart and then back at him, takes in Jaime’s rumpled appearance, and smirks, “Hey it worked, didn’t it?”

      Jaime tears at his hair, “That’s not the point!  There were a million different ways you could’ve done this, ones that didn’t involve me embarrassing myself in front of the entire goddamn team!”

      It’s only just now sinking in that Bart’s not the only one who heard his outburst.  Fuck, he’s never gonna live this down, is he?

      “Jaime Reyes,” Khaji Da intones, emerging from its self-imposed exile, “Have you finished your copulation?”

      “Aghhhh!” he shouts, “Que se joda esto, que se joda usted y que se joda su madre, I am leaving!”  He turns to Bart, “You coming, hermano?”

      Bart blinks at him again, “Wait, you want me to come with you this time?”  He’s on his feet and in front of Jaime before he can blink, looking hopeful.

      “Definitely.  I’m not leaving you at the mercy of this menace,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder at Cassie.  Swallowing his sudden nerves, he continues, “And I was thinking we could maybe go back to my place and...continue where we left off?”

      Bart’s eyes light up, “Oh, absolutely!”  His grin is wicked, promising things that make heat flare in Jaime’s gut.  “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing Jaime’s wrist.

      Jaime doesn’t think he’s ever flown so fast in his entire life.

[house-of-slayterr]

Hello Mx. Writer! It's me again:)

How do you think Maggie and Basil and even V would react to see a Riddler v.s. Victor showdown? Aka how they react to the love triangle?

Hello Anon 🥰 how are you my dear?

Oh god, ok. Victor Vs Ed would be a walking nightmare- but god would I want to watch! Also I know we’re talking our Gotham boys right now, but I can’t help but think about what would happen if Birds of Prey Zsasz tried to fight The Batman’s Ed Nashton… terrifying!

Ed’s love for Y/N is very respect base. She’s a little older then the man and he knows there’s a lot he can learn from her. So perhaps one day when Oswald is really getting on his nerves, Ed goes to Y/N for help with revenge. I mean it’s obvious he’s in love with the boy. Y/N can see it plain as day, so of course she’s going to help the younger villain.

He sees Y/N and Vic fight all the time. Yet they’re still madly in love. Besides he enjoys the thrill of his little feud with her boss. Is Gotham, normal relationships don’t exist. If you haven’t tried to kill each other even once, are you really even a couple? Them spending more time together is totally innocent. Riddler slips in from time to time and tries to crack little jokes and puns at Y/N. He’s not blind, the women is very attractive, but he doesn’t have a death sentence. He knows she’s Victor’s, but a little friendly flirty never hurt anyone right? Besides, he loves to watch her laugh.

And boy is she laughing! You know that classic cackle where you lean back in your chair so far you almost fall, and the other person puts a hand on their shoulder to steady you. That sort of full belly laugh that has a minor insanity behind it. Of course neither of them are sober during these little midnight plotting sessions. That would be no fun. Between the shitty riddles, the booze and plotting to make Oswald so furious the idiot throws a week long tantrum, Y/N feels totally free and giddy. There’s a certain high she gets from strategising a war that’s not serious for once. One where there’s no high stakes, and nobody’s going home having lost something they’d rather not go without.

VICTOR DOES NOT LIKE THIS!! That attention should be his. Her laugh should be from him. Not this low level, criminal wanna be. He looks like a damn leprechaun who sprouted real people legs. And when Victor comes home after a long day, looking for his Wife and finds Nygma with his hand around her. He’s seeing RED!!!!

Despite what everyone thinks, Vic does have impulse control. It’s very little but he does know how to show some self restraint. So he pulls himself away in the moment. Course, he does go out and make it EVERYONE else’s problem. Jimbo better hope he doesn’t run into the assassin on his little rampage. Cause Victor is not afraid to cut anyone down to size who gets in his way. He’s furious, and even if this little friendship was totally innocent, that wouldn’t change fuck all to him. Little does Victor know Y/N planned this. She could help Nygma, while playing the side game to rile her lover up. I mean Vic is way more fun when he’s bloodthirsty. Can’t blame a woman for wanting some excitement, or to be dominated every once in a while.

And Victor is playing right into her plan. If Oswald called a meeting because he’s growing suspicious of this sudden friendship, everyone would have to be there. If there’s one thing Oswald likes, it’s humiliating people. Why do in private what you can do in public instead? Needless to say Maggie and Basil have no clue why they’re being summoned that morning. Oswald’s pretty much locks them all in the room and just glares until someone tells him what he wants to hear. Nobody says anything at first, I mean poor Maggie and Basil have no idea what’s going on. But Victor would be the first to make a move. No words, just a punch straight to Ed’s nose.

He’d pull his gun as the man stumbled back and point it right between his eyes. A challenge to try anything, wether that be making a physical move, or attempting to even speak. Nothing Ed could say would make Victor any less trigger happy.

Maggie is the first to recognise this, and would instantly jump up from here chair.

“Woah, Victor, what the hell are you doing?” She’d ask bewildered.

Victor doesn’t move the gun, just turns his head to look at her and smirks.

“Taking out the trash.”

She’s roll her eyes.

“Nygma, what did you do?” She’s demand.

Maggie might be fairly soft spoken, but everyone could tell there was an urgency in her voice. It was gentle but commanding.

“What makes you think I did anything? The bastards crazy!” Ed defends.

Of course, Basil takes note to the fact that Y/N hasn’t had much of a response to any of this. She never attempted to rise from her seat, and there was no readable emotion on her face. It was suspicious, like she was trying to play innocent. Basil just raises a questioning brow at the woman, who gives no indication she’s going to be revealing anything anytime soon. She just sips from her cup while she watches.

Maggie pinches her brow in annoyance.

“Oswald?”

Despite him very clearly taking a more dominant role in the relationship that they have, Oswald steps forward as if his own mother just called him forward. No hesitation at all. She’d look down at the man.

“Why are we here?”

“They’re plotting something against me, I just know it.” He says, anger in his town.

Maggie hand help the exasperated sigh that leaves her mouth. She’s grown used to playing therapist.

“You’re all hopeless.” She scoffs. “Ok Oz, you’re being paranoid. Nobody in this room is trying to hurt you. Edward, you need to wipe that smug grin off your face, Victor put the damn gun down. And you-“

She’d pause when she gets to Y/N. I mean what can she say, she’s not exactly doing anything. Besides, it would be a weighty punishment if she talked back to the woman. Y/N would raise a challenging brow at the girl, smirking a little.

“Stop being so quiet, it’s creeping me out.” Maggie said, shuddering.

Nothing good ever happened when Y/N was quiet for too long. Quiet meant she was thinking, and hard. Y/N certainly amused by Maggie’s lame attempt at diffusing this situation.

“How can I stop a non-action dear?” Y/N would smirk.

Maggie would just look to Basil for help. He’d just nod his head at Edward, showing he’s the weakest link in the group right now. Maggie would clear her throat and approach.

“Look, Edward, sweetie-“ Riddler does not enjoy her tone right now. “You’re going to have to fess up to what you did sooner or later. Or else none of us are leaving this room. And I swear to you, if I have to miss going to the bookstore with Jim to pick out Bruce a book for his birthday, I am going to rip out your spleen and make you crawl across hot coals to get it back.”

She wasn’t fucking around. If anyone hated plans being interrupted more than Y/N, it’s was Maggie. And plans with Jim none the less, she was currently wanting to scream.

“Wait you’re going book shopping with Jim?” Oswald asks.

Everyone can hear the slight jealousy in his voice. Despite him not sharing affection for the girl in that way, didn’t mean he had to enjoy anyone else showing her said affection.

“Yeah, Bruce has been talking about this specific book for months, only place I can find it is down in the offered. Jim offered to go with me, probably cause he has no idea what to get the kid and wants to leach off my gift. But whatever.”

Not true. Everyone in that room new it’s because Jim didn’t want her alone in the narrows. Always the gentleman, that man. She tried back to Riddler.

“So you’re going to sit down and start talking, or so help me god I’ll just let Victor shoot you.”

Nobody really knew if the girl was being serious.

“I’m serious, I didn’t do anything wrong. Is having friends illegal now?” He questioned.

“Now I get it.” Basil chimed in. “Victor you jealous bastard, you do know your wife is allowed to talk to people right? That’s a basic human right.”

Victor would growl, wanting to shoot the younger man as well.

“Ed, apologise to Victor for making him insecure. Y/N apologise to Oswald for making him paranoid. And Victor, put the fucking gun down before I shove it up your scrawny ass. I’m not fucking around today guys, I don’t have time for this shit.”

“That time of the month?” Victor asked.

Yeah that would be the last straw. Screw an actual showdown between Victor and Edward, right now this was about to be between Victor and God. Of course Victor is going to be holding a grudge on Edward for a long time. Messing up the man’s plans and trying to shoot him at practically any opportunity they have when Maggie’s out of sight. Victor thinks Maggie’s and innocent little kitty cat, and frequently makes fun of the girl for being so soft. But, he’s also seen her shot Sofia with no hesitation because Jim was involved. Honestly he was pretty proud of her for that.

Maggie would turn back to him bewildered.

“What did you just say?”

Oh, she’s bold with it. To talk to the Victor Zsasz like he wasn’t gripping a fully loaded gun right now. Basil would be quick to step in, stepping between his big sis and Victor. Of course he’d love to watch her throw a punch at the guy, but he also knows it’s a fight she can’t win. And nobody in that room is thinking straight. He’d pull her backward into a hug, trapping her against him so she can’t move. She’d put up a valiant effort, kicking and grumbling to try to get out of his arms. Even going so far as to bite him, but he’s undeterred.

“Fine, the two do you kill each other for all I care. And Y/N, I hope whatever you’re planning is worth it.”

She’d convince Basil to let her go.

“I’m getting out of here, Basil you’re on family therapy duty today. Whatever blood is spilt, they’re cleaning it up. If I come back and see a maid doing that shit, I’m setting this entire house on fire with both of them inside.”

She’d walk over to Oswald and kiss him on the cheek. As she does so she swipes the keys from his pocket and walks toward the door. Everyone watches as she goes.

“Be back later, love you all!” She’d say, a clear attempt to try and push down any anger she was feeling.

She didn’t want her mood to be sour when she met up with Jim. As the door shut behind her, everyone just turns to look back at Y/N.

“Oh she’s definitely on her period.” Y/N concluded with a smile. “You heard what the lady said, she wants blood she’d and carnage.” She would sip her drink, even further amused as it dawns on everyone they’ve been used.

“Unbelievable.” Basil says, shaking his head.

But sitting down to watch as Y/N just hands him the full bottle of wine she’d been nursing.

“You’re insane.” Oswald grumbles as he also goes to leave the room.

Victor and Edward just stand there dumbfounded, not sure what to do next. Victor cracks his knuckles.

“I’m going to give you a five minuet head start.” He tells the man in green.

“One- Two-“

Yeah, Edwards supposed to be a genius, so he doesn’t even wait for three before he’s sprinting for the door. He’d have to think of a good way to shake Zsasz. They’d watch after him until he was out of sight. Victor just turns back to his wife.

“You’re not going after him are you?” She asks amused.

“No, that idiot can die tomorrow, you on the other hand-“

And Basil takes that as his que to leave. He knows where all that pent up rage is going to leave. And frankly he doesn’t want to see them hate fuck each other.

An; lol I love sassy Maggie in this chapter. I was just in a silly goofy mood today guys, so so is she. We all know Edward ran to the Sirens club to hide.

@keffirinne @flaysthings @howl-fantasies

[more-thoughts-than-money]

okay but that one episode in House where Cuddy is in the hospital and House couldn’t get himself to be there by her side to comfort her without reaching for Vicodin always makes me tear up so bad

when she finds out she gets pretty pissed

and it was always so fucking sad to me because they both knew that House wasn’t cut out for the relationship, and knew damn well he has a lot of emotional baggage

and it’s okay to hesitate when going into a relationship with such person, you have to be prepared for everything. and it’s hard to be prepared for anything with someone like House [and Cuddy is a perfectionist, she NEEDS to be prepared for anything in order to survive]

anyways, what makes me so upset when thinking of this is:

she knew he’s an addict and yet expected him to *just stop* taking pills cold turkey.

truth is that in my experience this medication allowed his brain to function and shut down his emotion.

i mean

i genuinely hc that he has ADHD

and it’s a very personal HC but i have nowhere to talk about this so yeah

but there was a couple of months in my life when i abused medication. in a pretty dumb way, so i can’t ever say i was an addict, because it was psychiatric medication, if i filled my prescription too soon doctor would know and as a 14-15 yo kid i wasn’t going to explain to my family that i’m abusing medication because my antidepressants never work and the doctor doesn’t bother to listen to me saying that i genuinely think i have ADHD

anyways thing is, when i ran out of the anxiety medication i abused that calmed my brain down (so that i could focus, and not be “dumb” in school)

i didn’t know what to do

so i went for my insomnia medication, since i didn’t have anything else, it wasn’t exactly helping me focus, but it would severely sedate me so that i wouldn’t be able to think about anything and then i could just skip school by sleeping for 13 hours or more

the only reason i stopped was because i was still underage and it’s my obligation to go to school. and i didn’t have an excuse for feeling dizzy other than “i feel bad, i don’t want to go to school” and then i would just sleep

anyways my point is i think it was my way of coping with ADHD, i think very quickly and am all over the place, careless and make mistakes when i need to actually apply the concept i’m thinking of

and it feels similar to why not taking Vicodin would freak him out and make him “a bad doctor”

for me having ADHD is like having a lot of energy that you have to put SOMEWHERE!! whether it be literal physical activity (hyperactive), brain activity (distraction), or both

losing the use of his leg only because nobody would believe him felt unfair, he had no control over it. and the anger (energy) and the lack of ability to let it out (through sports) made him 3 times as bitter, miserable and fucking unbearable (/lh)

also the need to pick up a hobby and putting your everything into learning it but dropping it once you “succeeded” and looking for something else to do hits close home

i mean yes it’s more of a head-cannon but he knows a bunch of languages (at least spanish, hindi and mandarin, the last two of which he is fluent enough in to read and carry out conversations) and its not even that he plans on using them, he just does it for fun, to keep his brain moving; and nothing else

he picks up physics because suddenly he has so much time to spare when he can’t do his work properly and hey, physics is hella interesting, why not learn it as well?

and that’s what i find myself struggling with, when i’m trying to stop emotional eating for example, or when i’m trying to stop overachieving at school for the sake of focusing on what i actually want to do

and that’s why i’m very depressed because i want to do so many different things! but i’m bound to waste 8 hours at school not learning anything because i either don’t care about it or care too much and the teacher can’t do their class without me talking with them all the time

on top of that; Vicodin clears out all the “useless things” including some the fear and distrust he has towards everything and everyone

when he’s sober and realises Cuddy, someone he tried so hard to break down all the mental walls for, could possibly die

it overwhelmed him, because he hasn’t been in a proper relationship in years

and that’s why it was so infuriating to see this

and i’m not defending House, because i know i hated him a lot of times during the time i watched the entire show

but he’s relatable in ways no other character ever was to me

[the-world-is-spinning-round]

This Grave I Call My Home - Palaye Royale fan fiction (Spooktober Writing Challenge)

He’s still going at it, still ignoring everyone. Can you get here any quicker?

Vic slammed the car door shut, shouldering her rucksack as she headed towards the football pitch.

Across the car park, her younger sister watched her with wide eyes - but Josie didn’t move away from her boyfriend’s side to come and talk to Vic. It wasn’t just because Andrew had an arm wrapped around Josie’s waist; Josie was one of the ‘cool kids’ now, and Vic most definitely was not.

Neither was the reason Josie had texted her.

Remington was in the middle of the football pitch, shovel in hand, dressed only in a cheap (and thin) looking black slip, digging what looked disturbingly like a grave.

It was no wonder Josie had asked her to come talk to Remington. Despite their separation, Sebastian and Emerson - two of Josie’s friends, who happened to be the leaders of their little clique, and Remington’s brothers - still cared about Remington…at least in their own weird, shallow kind of way. And what they cared about, the rest of the group cared about, in their even weirder, even shallower kind of way.

Hence why Josie had text Vic. As Remington’s…sort-of friend, Vic was probably the only one who might be able to talk to Remington when he was in his current state.

Not that she was overly hopeful.

Still, she made her way over to where Remington was clambering down into his makeshift ‘grave’, disappearing from view entirely when he lay down inside it, and plonked herself down on the edge, legs dangling into the hole.

A hand shot up to grab her ankle, but Remington didn’t shove her foot away or pull her leg any further into his grave, he just…grabbed her ankle, and then seemed to freeze.

“So, I’d ask if you’re okay…but I have a feeling the answer is no.” Vic announced, knowing that she was unlikely to get a response.

Remington was capable of speaking, but he didn’t do it often. He was quiet by nature, and even more so when he was in this kind of headspace.

Fortunately, Vic could speak enough for both of them: “I’m pretty sure if nothing else you most be fucking freezing. It’s cold as shit out here, even for October. Not that the dress doesn’t look amazing by the way, it’s great, but it just seems like more of a summer night kind of dress than an autumn-winter night dress, you know?”

Still nothing, but Vic could tell Remington was listening to her - if only because he was starting to frown at her like he was talking absolute nonsense.

Which, to be fair, she was.

Because she knew it would eventually get a response.

She just had to be weird enough.

“Do you think I’d look good in a slip like yours?” Vic asked, saying a quick prayer no-one would remember this part tomorrow morning, before she reached up to push her tits together and up, like she was wearing a push-up bra: “I think my tits are too big. Or not big enough. I think they’re kind of an awkward size, you know? Like, too big to be small, but too small to be big.”

Remington was frowning even deeper now: “Too…big to be small?”

“Yeah! Like, mid-sized, but…also not, you know? Maybe if I got some interesting tattoos, like a treasure map with some dragons and flamingos, it would be a distraction? Or maybe I could get a desert scene with a cow’s skull…”

Eventually, Remington laughed: “You’re…you’re just so fucking weird.”

Vic grinned: “You say weird, I say interesting.”

“Interesting?” Remington repeated, still laughing: “Okay, let’s go with ‘interesting’.”

Vic nodded in agreement, but let the conversation drop.

She could tell Remington was more present now; his grip on her ankle had moved so he could tug absently at her laces, wrapping them around his fingers before unwrapping them, flicking at them before catching them again. Vic was kind of reminded of her cat, Walter…and honestly, Remington probably wouldn’t mind that comparison. He’d be the first to say he was cat-like - although he’d probably like Vic to say it was because he was graceful and mysterious, rather than because he was sometimes weirdly obsessed with odd bits and pieces shoelaces.

In truth, it was a bit of both.

Remington could be extremely self-confident and could carry himself with all the grace and self-assurance in the world…and then other times he could be her dork of a friend who just wanted to be near someone. Vic wished he had more options than just her for times like that, not because she didn’t want to hang out with him, but because she wanted him to be happy…

…but as it was just her, Vic would try and do her best to make sure her friend was okay.

So she sat on the edge of this grave Remington had dug, lightly swinging the foot Remington wasn’t holding onto back and forth, until Remington was ready to speak.

Eventually, he sighed, and leant up on his elbows: “Are they all watching?”

Vic didn’t turn and look, but given that she had been ignoring the feeling of eyes digging into her back the whole time she’d been sitting here: “Probably, yeah.”

“I…I don’t know why I did this.” Remington admitted with a weak voice: “I just sort of…did what I felt like I had to do.”

“Fair enough.” Vic nodded, knowing it was best not to question Remington when he was feeling a bit fragile: “Want me to get rid of them?”

“If you think you could…”

Vic pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her texts with Josie.

Can you get everyone to go somewhere else? He doesn’t need everyone staring at him.

Yeah, give me five minutes.

“Five minutes.” Vic told Remington: “Then I’ll check.”

“Thank you.” Remington sighed, clearly relieved: “And thank you for, you know, coming down here.”

“Remington,” Vic said softly: “You don’t have to say thank you for that. If you need me, then I’ll be here.”

Despite the stragglers of the group behind them still being in view of the pitch, Remington carefully clambered to his feet so he could stand in front of Vic and throw his arms around her hips, burying his face in her shoulder.

Vic didn’t hesitate in hugging him back, wrapping her around his neck, holding him close.

They held onto each other in silence, waiting for the last of the group in the parking lot to leave and for Remington’s shivering became too noticeable to ignore before eventually separating - maily so Vic could open up the rucksack she’d brought with her.

Remington smiled when he saw the blanket she pulled from her bag, and dutifully allowed her to wrap it around his shoulders.

“You kept it?” he asked, running a hand over the faded chequered pattern.

“Of course I did.” Vic responded, getting to her feet and reaching down to help pull her friend out of the pit: “You gave it to me for sake-keeping.”

“Like five years ago.”

“Yeah?”

Remington accepted her hand and clambered up out of his pit, and hanging onto Vic’s hand as they headed towards her car - the only one left in the parking lot. Josie had been as good as her word, and gotten rid of everyone, but Vic didn’t doubt that she’d be grilled about what happened later.

She couldn’t bring herself to care - it was a problem for another time.

Perhaps after she worked out how Remington could not get caught for digging a fucking grave in the middle of the school’s football pitch if they were caught by the groundskeeper locking up for the night.

As if sensing her thoughts, Remington looked over his shoulder to the pile of mud and hole n the ground he’d left in his wake, and then looked back at Vic: “I’m a little bit fucked, aren’t I?”

“Not if we get out of here quickly.”

[bitches-who-write]

Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty. 

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.”

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

[ethan-torchio-angelo]

Yesterday

Summary: A moment alone on a balcony and being grateful that today is a new day

Warnings: A few swears, a kiss, not much tbh

Word Count: 1500

A/N: So, I took a break. But I'm back. Life has been hell and the only time I can find myself happy is when I'm writing. As always, likes, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated!

“I love you”

She knows that if she had heard those words yesterday, she would have been thrilled, and would have deemed it the best day ever. She would have been happy and smiling because he finally, finally said them. But today is not yesterday and things have changed.

“I wish you were saying those words because you mean them, and not because you're scared of me leaving.”

She grabs her bag from the chair beside her and makes her way to the door, refusing to turn back and look at him as he yells out her name. She makes it half way down the street before the tears start falling. She’s not necessarily sad at the circumstance, more angry that she let this go on for as long as it did. She’s caught him cheating more times than she can count, been stood up for dates and before today, never heard those three words leave his mouth in the almost year they’ve been together.

But none of that matters now, she’s left him for good and she won’t be going back.

The first thing she does when she gets home is grab everything that belonged to or reminded her of him and throws it into a box. Then, she grabs a bottle of wine and plops herself down on the couch to drink away her sorrows. She pulls out her phone and dials the only number worth remembering. It rings once, then twice, and she’s afraid he won’t answer, but halfway through the third ring the call connects.

She doesn’t leave him anytime to greet her, jumping straight to the point, “I finally fucking did it!”

He chuckles into the phone, “Finally had sex, did you?” He jokes.

“I’ll have you know that I am far past that milestone, Dami. I finally dumped my duche of a boyfriend!”

She hears him let out a string of yells, very enthusiastically telling her how happy he is to finally hear that. He, and even the rest of the band, have been telling her to do it for months now. Not that they didn’t like the guy in the beginning, but after he stood her up on her birthday and she came home to him in bed with someone else, they’d had enough.

“Well, this deserves a celebration. Dinner tonight, Vic will bring wine, Ethan and I can cook, Thomas can pick up a cake!”

She laughs at his enthusiasm, but agrees nonetheless.

After hanging up the phone she heads into her room to get ready. It’s just dinner with her friends, but she’s in the mood to look good tonight, so she grabs out one of her favourite dresses and a pair of flats. She’s ready and out the door in under an hour, stopping to pick up some fresh flowers before making her way to Damiano’s apartment.

It’s a nice evening, not too hot and not too cold, the sun at that perfect spot in the sky. She feels good, not at all like how she thought she’d feel. She loved him, but she’s not sure she was in love with him, and she’s glad that she feels no sorrow for closing that chapter in her life.

She arrives at his apartment, shooting him a text to buzz her in and when she enters she’s immediately wrapped in Victoria's arms. “Ah, amore! So good to see you! Come in, let’s drink!”

She giggles at the greeting, always loving how enthusiastic Victoria is when they see each other. She graciously accepts a glass from Thomas, downing the sweet wine in almost one sip. He chuckles at her actions and refills her glass before she has a chance to put it down. She hears the sound of dishes in the kitchen and makes her way over to the two boys cooking. “Buonasera. It smells wonderful in here.”

She hops up on one of the counters, placing her glass beside her, and is met with a round of protests, “Counters are for glasses, not asses miss!” Ethan yells at her.

She giggles but stays put, pointing to her glass beside her, “Ah, but my glass is on the counter.”

He shoots her a glare, but she can see the laugh he’s trying to hide as he turns to continue cooking. Damiano comes to stand in between her legs, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting hug. “How are you mi amore? You okay?”

His voice has a hint of worry laced in it, but she nods her head. “It was a long time coming. I’d mentally done it, just hadn’t physically done it yet. I’ve felt single for months now, and he’s sure been acting like it for longer.”

Damiano moves so he’s standing beside her, keeping an arm wrapped around her shoulder, “Well, good riddance!”

She lets out a snort and the two boys begin to laugh, drawing the attention of the other two who walk into the kitchen a moment later.

The night flies by in a flurry of wine and laughter. They enjoy a lovely meal of pasta and chicken, the best salad she’s ever had and an array of cheeses and fruits. They catch each other up on all of the things that’s been going on in their personal lives, and a toast to new beginnings. Thomas brings out a lovely cake with the words “fuck romance” inscribed on top and they forgo dishing it out, everyone grabbing a fork and digging in.

It quickly turns into a drunken mess, Victoria tripping over Ethans legs and dropping cake into his hair. He in turn picks up some frosting and wipes it on her face. Thomas laughs and is met with a glob thrown at him. It’s utter chaos. She turns to get away before she can be brought into the food fight, but Damiano is quick to grab her around the waist and pull her back to the group, shoving a handful of the sweet dessert in her face.

Soon, they are all covered in frosting, giggling like mad men. The dining room is a mess and somehow there is pasta sticking to the walls, and when it’s pointed out they all burst into another fit of laughter. Ethan is quick to take on the roll of housekeeper, moving to the kitchen to collect the cleaning supplies. Victoria and Thomas follow him, clearing dishes and whipping down the walls. Damiano lets them be, knowing they’ll return his apartment to its previous state.

She watches for a moment, before disappearing down the hall to steal a quick shower, not wanting to walk home with frosting crusted in her hair. When she immerges, everything is back to the way it was when she arrived, but the rest of the band is missing. Damiano is lounging out on the balcony, a cigarette between his lips and a coffee beside him.

“Hey,” she says quietly.

“Hey. Wondered where you snuck off to.”

She smiles shyly, taking a seat beside him. “Wanted to rinse the cake out of my hair before I walked home.”

He nods at her, returning to taking small drags from his cigarette. He offers it to her and she graciously accepts it, letting the smoke envelope her lungs in a warm hug. She sighs into the night, knowing she should go home but not wanting to leave. He turns to look at her and it’s like he’s seeing her in a new light.

He’s always felt something towards the young girl, ever since they met back in school, but now it feels different. There’s a feeling brewing in his chest, something he can’t quite place. She turns to look at him then, catching him in his staring act. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Dami?”

“Too many things.”

She nods, knowing exactly what he means. Her head is filled with thoughts, too. There’s a cool breeze that floats around them, raising goosebumps on her arms. Damiano notices and moves to wrap his arms around her, rubbing his hands along her bare arms. They stand like that for a moment, his head buried in her neck, arms wrapped around her.

She’s sure he can hear the beating of her heart, a rapid thumping in her chest. She hasn’t been this close to him in a while, not with the freedom she has now. Ever so slowly, she turns around in his arms until she’s face-to-face with him. Their eyes lock and he leans his forehead down to be touching hers.It would only take a breath for her to be kissing him. Before the thought has even fully crossed her mind, he’s leaning in.

A soft brush of lips, a shot of electricity shooting through her at the contact. He pulls away first, one hand tangled in her hair, the other resting on her hip.

“I love you,” He whispers, and she’s never been more thankful that today isn’t yesterday.

[marlena-immortale]

Movie Nights

Summary: You and Thomas both have a crush on each other but are too nervous to make a move, until one day he finally works up the courage. (Based on these requests ⬇️) 

- Hi! Could you maybe write something about being roommates with Thomas, and you both have kind of fallen for each other, but don’t want to ruin the friendship so youre both too nervous to say anything? (Until of course, one of you can’t take it anymore and confesses). Thanks regardless!

- Would I please be able to request a Thomas fic where he and reader have been best friends forever and always secretly had a crush on each other, then finally confess their feelings? Then maybe it turns smutty 👀

CW: Not super smutty but a little spicy, just some titty touching and making out, mostly just cute fluff and mutual pining

Word Count: 1.5k

You and Thomas have been close friends for years now and, after you graduated college, you decided to move to Italy and Thomas offered to let you move in with him to the extra room in his apartment. And now, the two of you are inseparable. You’re always tagging along with him and the band when they go out, when you’re welcomed by all of them of course, and you and Thomas are joined at the hip the whole time. Strangers are always confusing you two for a couple and you both just laugh it off but you secretly don’t mind. In fact, you would absolutely love for it to be true. 

One night, you’re out at a party with Thomas and the rest of the band and you’re talking to Vic by the wall, watching Thomas dance out of the corner of your eye. 

“Honey, we can all see it,” Vic says when she sees you staring off yet again. Your attention is brought back to her, cheeks heating up. 

“See what?” you sheepishly respond. 

“We see you and Thomas always flirting with each other but both of you are too afraid to make a move,” Vic says with a smirk, leaning in close so no one else hears. 

You feel your cheeks heat up even more, realizing that everyone knows your little secret. You cross your arms in a vain attempt to protect yourself. “I- I do not flirt with Thomas. And he certainly does not flirt with me,” you stutter through. 

Just as you attempt to compose yourself again, you see Vic smiling at someone and look over to the direction of her gaze to see a smiley Thomas barrelling his way over to you two. Once he gets to his destination, he immediately wraps his one arm around your shoulder and the other around your waist. He was always super comfortable and affectionate with you so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. 

“Hey ladies, having fun?” Thomas says.

“Tons. I think I’ll leave you two alone now though,” Vic responds while already starting to walk off.

Thomas quickly stops her. “Wait Vic, stay! Don’t worry, we won’t do anything you wouldn’t wanna see,” he says with a wink in your direction. Vic raises her eyebrows and looks to you as if to say see I told you. You roll your eyes at both of them and watch as Vic shakes her head and smiles, walking away from you. 

You’re suddenly very aware of your surroundings, you get a little nervous. That’s not to say you mind being encased in Thomas’s arms, but he does get your heart beating a little too fast sometimes. Thomas notices you staring at him and pipes up, “you wanna ditch this place babe?”

He just called you babe. Your heartbeat now comes to a complete halt. But, he calls everyone babe right? You’ve definitely heard him call Damiano babe before, and maybe even Vic too if you think back. So this can’t mean anything. Right?

Thomas takes you out of your thoughts by holding you closer and asking, “well, is that a yes?” 

“Oh. Yes-uh- yeah let’s get out of here,” you somehow get out of your mouth. You don’t know why you’re so nervous all of the sudden, you’re not usually like this with Thomas. You try to shake it off as you walk together to your car. This party was interrupting one of your weekly movie nights so you spent the car ride discussing what movie you should watch instead. 

As soon as you make it home, you order delivery from your favorite pizza place and open a bottle of wine. You pour two glasses as he sets the pizza box down on the coffee table in the living room and turns on the movie you’ve selected. 

You bring the (way too full) glasses of wine and hand one to Thomas as you get under the soft, warm blanket with him. You immediately cuddle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder with your arm resting around his neck and his around your waist. You scooch back so your side is against his chest, halfway in his lap. He smiles and blushes when you snuggle closer and cheers your glasses.   

A few hours later, you’re both a little wine drunk and somehow have cuddled up even closer to each other under the blanket on the couch and you can feel each other's heartbeats racing. You look up at him and see that he’s already staring down at you, you ask, “Why aren’t you watching the movie?”    

Feeling incredibly bold from the wine, he says, “because you’re more interesting to look at”. You can feel the warmth in your cheeks rise and a smile appear on your face, but your nerves are still present. He could mean it in a friendly way, or it could just be a joke, you thought. 

You realize he’s being serious when you see a blush reach his cheeks as well and start to shift under you, trying to escape your grasp, thinking you don’t feel the same. 

“No, wait. What do you mean?” you say as you stop him from shifting away. 

“I-Uh-I  well… I mean I think you’re really pretty y/n,” he stutters. The tension between you two is suddenly palpable and you both are just sitting there not saying anything, staring at each other. 

You decide to say ‘fuck it’ and quickly finish your third glass of wine, pouring what’s left of it into your mouth, and grab Thomas’s glass from his hands before setting them both down on the table. You lightly grab his face, pulling him into a gentle kiss. He’s not kissing you back so you pull away to see his slightly stunned face. Thinking you’ve fucked up, you try to come up with words to apologize before he finally comes to his senses and goes back in for another kiss, this time filled with much more passion and intensity. His long fingers end up tangled in your hair at the back of your neck.

After a few seconds, you both pull back, breathless with dumb smiles on your faces.You start laughing all blushy and happy and Thomas join in, confessing, “I’ve wanted to do that since I first met you”. You’re both so relieved and you realize you could’ve told him a while ago and could’ve been kissing him long ago. You decide to make up for lost time and go back in for another kiss. Your hands find their home in his hair as you pull him in even closer. His plush lips massage your own as your tongue darts out to softly brush against his bottom lip. His hands make their way to your waist, and while you're both distracted by each other's lips and tongues, he fidgets his long fingers around the hem of your shirt, pulling and rubbing at it. 

“You want me to take it off baby?” you offer, noticing the nice feeling of his fingertips on your skin and wanting more. 

He gets somehow even more shy and cute, not even realizing where his hands were, and stares at you blankly for a moment before remembering to answer with a, “yes...please” and a nod. 

His puppy-dog eyes combined with his begging goes straight to your core and your breathing instantly gets heavier, not realizing how much you’d enjoy that. You smirk, keeping eye contact with him while slowly pull your top over your head and throw it to the floor. Your eye contact breaks as he shifts his eyes down to your bare chest. You get a little bashful when you see him staring and attempt to cover yourself with your arms before he grabs your wrists and says, “don’t cover yourself, you’re so beautiful”. 

You smile, feeling slightly more confident in your body seeing the lust in Thomas’s eyes. You lift yourself onto your knees and swing one leg around his hips to straddle him, sitting in his lap. You go back to kissing his lips before trailing them down to his neck, feeling his stubble scratching against your lips. His hands are hesitant and he doesn’t quite know where to place them so you help him decide. You take his big hands into your own and bring them to your newly revealed breasts, pressing them down and encouraging him to explore and play with them however he wants. He likes the little whimper he hears when his nimble fingers brush against your nipples so he does it again. Your lips make their way to the base of his neck and graze your teeth over the sensitive spot, hearing Thomas moan in your ear. 

You raise your head to look him in the eyes and see how flushed he’s become and just how pretty he looks in your arms. “Do you want to take this to my bedroom?” you ask. He nods his head and you both smile, getting up to walk together hand in hand. You can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face as you realize you finally get to spend every night in bed with Thomas now.

[aghostpost]

The Hard-J (Victor Creed x Reader)

A/N: I know I said it would be ready by the weekend but... it wasn’t! Excuses only work for those that make them, so I won’t bother lmao~ This one is for @queengiuliettafirstlady and everyone else that loves a little Victor Creed intensity. ♥

“Can we not do this today, please?”

“What the hell was that about?” He slammed the door after him as I went to my kitchen to put groceries away. 

“He saw me walking back from the store, that’s it.”

“That’s it, huh? What did I say about hangin’ out with him?”

“We weren’t hanging out! I told you, he saw me walking and he was helping me carry a few things. That. Is it.”

“You see how he talks to me? How he’s always talked to me-“

“-I see two brothers who, for whatever reason, can’t seem to hack it.”

“We aren’t brothers.”

I rolled my eyes, shoving my peanut butter and fudge swirl ice cream into the freezer. “Brothers in arms.”

“Because there’s no damn respect! Always lookin’ down at me like he’s some kinda fuckin’ superior.”

“Vic…”

“I don’t want you around him. You hear me?”

I let out an exasperated sigh as I rolled my eyes. “It’s too hot to argue about this shit.”

“You’re the one arguing instead of just agreeing, Y/N.”

“Your relationship with Logan is just that: yours. I have no problem with the guy.”

“If I see you two together again-“

“- Do not end that sentence with a threat, Victor-“

“- I’ll do you one better and end it with a guaran-fucking-tee!”

“We live in the same city, I’m bound to run into him sometimes!”

“Y/N look at me… Hey!” He shouted, making me jump out of my skin as I gave him my undivided attention. Clearly he was serious, which he tended to be. But this time, more serious than normal.

He was always so very dead serious whenever we talked about Logan.

“I don’t care if you’re next door neighbors with him. If I see you two with each other again, it will not end well.”

“For him? Or for me?”

“Both o’ you.”

I stared him down and watched him do the same, his face cold hard steel, not even a muscle flexing as he spoke to me. “What the hell happened between you two, anyway?” I asked. “What did he do that’s so damn bad you’re forbidding me to even say hi? He kill your cat or somethin’?”

He smirked and let out a huff of a chuckle, his left fang peeking from behind his lips. “You think I’m kiddin’?”

I rolled my eyes and pushed him away from me to continue putting the food away. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I’ll stay away from him, Victor. Whatever the hell makes-” I couldn’t finish my sentence before I heard the loud crash of glass breaking. I whipped around and saw a wet puddle dripping on my wall, the floor beneath it decorated with broken glass and what was a very nice bouquet of assorted flowers. “Are you shitting me?!”

“Oh, I got your attention now?”

“You had it! You’re throwing a temper tantrum, breaking my shit, all because you’re jealous of someone I’m not even interested in?”

“Jealous?” he questioned as he slowly stalked towards me, like a predator carefully eyeing its prey. I was no stranger to Victor's temper; under the right circumstances, he could go from settled to up in flames with the snap of a finger. Maybe it’s because he was never really at ease, always ready to pounce at any moment’s notice if necessary. Yeah, I know he has little patience and is kinda trigger happy to get into a fight, his own source of entertainment. But that was with other people, strangers. With me, he exercised a lot more restraint. We’d have arguments, he’d yell, maybe hurt a wall and then storm off.

But whenever Logan was involved, it was a different story...

“You need to relax,” I warned as I slowly backed away from him, ready to defend myself if necessary, even if I knew it was a losing battle. 

“Did you just say I was jealous of him?”

“Are you?”

“What reason do I have to be jealous?”

“You tell me. What is it, Vic? You think I’m gonna run off with him into the sunset? You come over here one day to see me, all my shit is packed up and I leave a note behind? I doubt he’d throw my shit around like you just did.”

“I bought you those damn flowers,” he growled.

“You gonna buy the replacements too?” I asked playfully, trying to diffuse the tension but failing. It was painfully obvious, literally, he wasn’t in the mood to play when I felt his fist grip me like a boa constrictor. He forced my head against the kitchen cabinet behind me and got close to my face. If he moved any closer he’d be able to taste the chive cream cheese bagel I had on the way over here. 

“Now that all depends…”

“Victor, let go of me. Now.”

“What’s the matter, hm? I thought you liked it rough?” he spoke with a tone of warning before a lecherous grin spread across his face. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t release a flutter deep in my belly, my incessant desire for him threatening to surface. It was embarrassing and admittedly disgusting to me, how even in moments as such, there was always going to be some shred of me that could neither ignore nor deny my constant thirst for him to satisfy me in ways only Victor knew how.

“You’ve made your point.” I tried to remain calm while fighting for air. I was willing to bet money that he could feel my pulse quickening beneath his grip. If even one of his claws came out I’d be bleeding out all over the linoleum.

“Have I?”

“You have five seconds to get the fuck off of me... or I walk.” He stared me in the eye only a few seconds longer before relinquishing his grip. If there was anything I caught on to in the seven months we’ve been seeing each other, if that’s even what you wanna call him dropping by for food, sex and quality conversation with a solid night’s rest, it’s that he actually greatly enjoyed having me in his life. He would never admit it, of course, being the poster boy for hypermasculinity; no way he’d display the level of emotion required to confess he liked me. But I picked up on it in subtle ways he probably doesn’t even notice. The way he throws his arm over me in his sleep, subconsciously keeping me in place with him. The way he came over and pretended it was just for sex, when we wouldn’t wind up having sex at all. The flowers he bought me, before throwing them to the wall in a rage. Most importantly, the way he wouldn’t stay gone long after a fight and would come back with his tail tucked in ready to apologize, afraid that would be the fight that finally scared me off and into the arms of someone else. I wasn’t using that to my advantage here, but I was letting him know what we both knew but never spoke of:

He wanted me around. He liked me.

I took a moment to allow oxygen to return to my lungs before I addressed him. “I pushed a button o’ yours with that little J-word?”

“What on Earth gave you that idea?” he asked sarcastically.

I nodded. “Fine. Noted. But I promise you, next time you use your words, because if you ever think about putting your hands on me again-”

“-Now you’re ending sentences with threats?”

“Guarantees, right?” I stalked to the corner of the kitchen and grabbed the broom that was wedged between the wall and my fridge then slammed it into his chest. “Dust pan behind the fridge,” was all I said before making my way to the bedroom.

“We’re not done-”

“-I am.” The moment I turned the corner out of the kitchen he was following me, the broom loudly clapping against the kitchen floor. The same hand that was just wrapped tightly around my throat was now finding its way around my waist along with his other one, pressing me to the wall. “Victor-“

“-I’ll getcha new flowers.”

“Fuck the flowers and fuck you.” He wasn’t hearing any of it. He grabbed my wrists and began making his way to the couch, my legs clumsily bumping into any and everything I walked towards. 

“I’m not gonna pour my heart out an’ tell you all the fucked up things about me, if that’s what you’re waitin’ for me to do.”

“Mutant in human world. It’s not hard to figure out.”

“And I’m not tellin’ you the textbook of reasons I’m not holdin’ hands with him either.”

“And I’m not agreeing to stay away from him for your reasons and personal grudges unknown.”

“So maybe I didn’t make myself as clear as I thought.” Before I was aware the back of my legs bumped into the arm of my couch. I was desperate to create some sort of distance between us, so I fell backwards and wiggled away to the far opposite end of the couch. He stood at my feet and without breaking eye contact, lifted the loose black henley from his chest. He was possibly the only person I knew that could wear black and long sleeves in the peak of a summer in the city without breaking a sweat. But now wasn’t the time to be impressed by minor things.

“It’s too hot for this, too.”

“You tellin’ me no?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” he asked as he continued advancing in my direction, fumbling with the belt on his jeans as he kicked his shoes off.

“Because I don’t feel like it. You’re not about to makeup sex your way out of putting your hands on me, dick.”

He shrugged to himself. “You never turned it down before.”

“Well, you know what they say the definition of insanity is, right…”

“Doin’ the same shit, expecting different results.”

“And I want different results, Victor.”

“Fine. So let’s try somethin’ different.” Without a word or warning he bent down and scooped me up, a hand firmly resting under each of my thighs, my legs snaked around his waist. I thought he was headed towards the bedroom, but he took a surprising left turn to the apartment balcony, gripping me tightly before using a hand to open the sliding glass door. The humidity instantly smothered me, my glasses fogging from the shock of being exposed to the summer heat after leaving my air conditioned living room. He sat in one of the wicker seats of my patio set and placed me in his lap, lifting my sundress so I could straddle him free of obstruction. He placed me directly onto his cock and was not gentle about it; my head instantly fell back as a rush of air escaped my chest, my hands finding his neck. 

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Exactly.”

“Shut the hell up.” There was no time for playful banter. The sun had only just started to set, meaning there was still plenty daylight for us to be seen; this had to be quick. And quiet. Quiet would be the hard part without a doubt. With his help, I lifted my body up and down, his fingertips digging into my hips as he held tightly to my waist. “Holy shit, Vic.”

“Still think I’m jealous?”

I grinned to myself. “I dunno; you’re fuckin’ me like you got somethin’ to prove,” I teased. Clearly there was jealousy but I knew better than to answer him with a yes. But if jealousy is this good a sexual motivator, I’d be happy with this silver lining to our fight. He lifted my dress up more, enough for him to expose my tits and seize my right one with his mouth. My head fell back, a cry escaping me when I felt the sharp stab of his teeth on the mound of flesh. “Fuck!” He growled, his mouth vibrating slightly around my nipple. 

“Ya still gonna run away and leave a note?” he asked, the heat from his mouth making toes curl.

“Never.” Unless he pushed me to it, of course. 

I felt the pads of his fingertips press my scalp, my hair tightly intertwined in his digits as he pulled my head back and forced me to make eye contact. “Don’t threaten to walk again.”

I rolled my eyes. “Or else?” I mocked.

He shook his head, his pelvis ceasing, the rapid rise and fall of our chests the only movement remaining between us. “No. Just don’t.”

I stared at him a moment longer and simply nodded before standing and turning around, lifting my dress over my head, then taking the rusty balcony rail in my hands to steady myself. I turned to look at him; to my surprise he was already stroking himself in the absence of something else warm wrapped around his cock. “Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“Can’t enjoy the view?”

“Enjoy it any longer and I’m gonna melt.”

“Someone other than me hungry for it?” he said with a hard slap to my right cheek before roughly re-entering from behind, making me jerk forward into the hot metal rail. I grunted at the pain in effort not to be too loud and settled comfortably on him, my body fitting him like a glove. He was in no way gentle as he thrust himself in and out of me, primal grunts escaping his chest every time his hips rammed into my ass. My tits would surely be bruised the way I was uncomfortably pressed into the railing. I stared at the rusted and flaking metal coating of the bars beneath my arms and fought to keep my legs from collapsing beneath me, every bone in my limbs turning to apple sauce, my muscles sore and aching. If only this kind of workout kept me in shape and was doctor recommended. And quiet as I was, there was nothing I could do to muffle the loud smack that echoed in the air when Victor got slap happy, or the sound that came from my mouth as a result. The funny thing was, the more I tried to shush him, the more intensely he fucked me, and the more sound we both ended up making. 

“Sss, holy fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, Vic! Shit!” I cried out, the restraint I had for my volume loosening. On a slower day I would have had a bit more self control, but I never lasted long, or quietly, when he was in a more animalistic mood.

“Mm, that’s right,” he grunted, digging his fingers into my hip bones. “Lemme have it, baby.” And before I knew it I did exactly that. My legs gave out beneath me and I fell to my knees, failing to hold myself up on the balcony railing any longer as I came. My moans were beyond stifling, and I felt nothing else, not even the pools of sweat pouring out of me. For just a moment I’d fallen into a deep well of ecstasy, my head throbbing from the mix of summer heat and pleasure, before I regained some composure to return the favor. 

I grabbed the thin cushion from my patio chair and placed it at his feet and knelt before him, taking him into my mouth as deep as I could. As hungrily as I could. Without hesitation his hands flew to my head, cradling the back of my skull and maneuvering me to a pace of his pleasure. “Atta girl,” he encouraged. He knew I was a sucker for praise, and after being a complete asshole I was expecting him to lay it on with the ass kissing for the rest of the evening. Now he had me working like I was the jealous one, when really I was only in competition with myself; I wanted to see if I could make him cum quicker than any of the other times I did this. I worked my head in a swivel and both of my hands in opposing twisting motion, pulling him into me as far as I could without biting off more than I could chew. It was useless, however, since Victor was determined to push my head down way past my limits. His hips undulated as he thrust his dick deeper and deeper into my throat. He’d momentarily pause and hold his place before pulling out to allow me to draw air, all before repeating the process. “Look at me,” he demanded, which was all he needed to say for me to know what time it was. I stared upwards at him with his cock still in my mouth, my eyes glassy with tears, and he pushed himself deep into my throat one final time and pumped the tip of his dick at the back of my throat. He held eye contact for as long as he could before his head fell backwards, eyes slamming shut as I felt the muscles of his thighs tighten. He grunted a low, beastlike growl before I felt him release all he had to offer in my throat, the sensation slightly tickling. I slowly jerked his dick off for good measure to ensure I got him for every drop before swallowing the thick, sticky fluid, swirling my tongue around his tip before he removed himself from my mouth. 

“Ah, Jesus fuck,” he sighed, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover.

“I think I missed that Sunday school lesson.” He rolled his eyes and looked down at me, head still resting in his lap, before rising and extending a hand. I grabbed and he pulled me up, coming face to face with him and the wild grin plastered on his face. “Back inside before my ass gets covered in bug bites.”

“I could scratch it for ya,” he offered, running a claw harmlessly up my spine. I shivered and pushed away from him before round two threatened to begin, sliding the balcony door open, relieved once the ice cold air conditioning hit my chest.

“No thanks. But you absolutely can buy me another bouquet of flowers. And a vase, while you’re at it.”