#and PETE JUST WANTS TO SEE VEGAS SMILE

[veliseraptor]

Pete was hungry.

Of course he was hungry; he hadn’t had any blood for days. He wasn’t even sure exactly how long it had been, without the reference of regular sleep. All he knew was that it’d been a while, long enough that consciousness was starting to get blurry and he was having a hard time thinking of anything else past the need, the hunger. 

He hadn’t been this hungry in a long time. Definitely not since he’d started working for the Theerapanyakuls. It took him back, in a bad way. 

He was supposed to be dead. He’d expected to be dead. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t.

Pete’s eyesight was sharp enough to see the door move before it opened and he closed his eyes and went limp, hoping to look unconscious. Footsteps on the floor and he could sense it even from here: fresh blood. Living flesh. His mouth watered and his fangs lengthened involuntarily, all his thoughts washing out to a red, desperate haze of want. All his control burning away like he would in sunlight.

“Hello again,” said Vegas’s voice. “How’s my pet?”

Pete tried not to move. Tried not to twitch. He imagined getting free and sinking his fangs into Vegas’s neck and even now flinched away from the idea of hurting, biting, one of the family. 

“Stop pretending,” Vegas said. “I know you’re awake.”

Pete pressed his cracking lips together and opened his eyes a sliver. Vegas was lounging on the bed, leaning back on his hands. His shirt was unbuttoned as usual, and Pete’s gaze zeroed in on his exposed throat, the motion as his heart pumped hot blood through the artery there. He could hear Vegas’s heart beating, or maybe that was just the roaring of hunger in his own ears.

Vegas just looked at him, lips curling into a mocking smile. He didn’t seem scared, or concerned, or any of the things most humans might feel in a small room with a hungry vampire on the verge of losing control. 

Vegas stood and moved closer. Pete tensed, body bracing for pain even as it screamed at him to attack. 

Vegas clicked his tongue. “You’re thirsty, aren’t you,” he said. He leaned forward and Pete clamped his mouth shut before he could lick his lips. “Poor boy,” Vegas went on. “So deprived.”

Just kill me already, Pete thought, but he didn’t say it. He’d started to wonder if Vegas was planning on starving him to death. It would take a long time. 

That’d be a good thing if he’d been hoping for rescue, but nobody was coming for him. 

Vegas reached out (the fine veins in his wrist, right there) and caught Pete’s chin, grasping it almost gently and turning his head back and forth like he was trying to find his best angle. 

“I could fix that,” Vegas said. 

Please, howled the increasingly animal part of Pete, but he had enough of himself left to recognize that anything Vegas offered him was going to be poison somehow. It was just so hard to think, to remember that in the face of the wanting.

“Not interested?” Vegas said. “Let’s see if I can change your mind.”

He left the room again and came back with a glass, a towel, and a knife. He sat down on the floor leaning against the bed, set the glass down next to him, held out one arm, and clenched his hand into a fist a few times. 

Then he took the knife and sliced into his own arm at the elbow. 

Shallow, but the veins ran close enough to the surface that it started bleeding fast; Vegas grabbed for the glass and tipped his arm so the blood started to dribble into it. His eyes stayed on Pete and Pete’s eyes zeroed in on the blood. He could smell it from here, sharp and tantalizing, and Pete jerked involuntarily against his bonds.

“Oh,” Vegas said, smile filled with vicious satisfaction. “You are interested.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Blood dripped into the glass, spattering the sides. It welled up bright, fresh red in the crook of Vegas’s arm. Pete was so hungry.

“Should I ask what you’ll give me for it?” Vegas asked. His voice was casual, just the slightest edge of mockery on it. 

“Nothing,” Pete croaked. 

“Mm,” Vegas said. “Stubborn.” There was a finger’s width of blood in the glass now. Vegas’s eyes were fixed on Pete, nailing him to the floor. 

“I don’t want it,” Pete lied. Vegas laughed.

“That’s weak,” he said. “You don’t really expect me to believe it, do you? I know you’re hungry. I can see it. If you got loose right now would you even be able to stop yourself from draining me?”

Maybe. Pete had good self control. It felt shaky right now, though. 

Vegas bent and straightened his arm, refreshing the flow of blood. The smell was stronger now, brighter. Pete wondered how it would taste. He’d never had blood like this, almost straight from the vein. And Vegas just watched him with that smug, vicious little smile. 

“Look at you,” he said. “Good Pete, Tankhun’s loyal little dog, and when it comes down to it you’re just another blood-addicted animal.”

Shame washed through Pete but it couldn’t get much of a purchase when it was set against the hunger, mindless and terrible. He could feel himself starting to tremble with it.

Vegas set down the glass and picked up the towel, pressing it to the wound he’d made. He held it there, eyes still on Pete. Pete’s hands curled into fists and he had to focus to relax them. 

When Vegas pulled the towel away the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. He picked up the glass and swirled the blood inside around like it was wine, then pushed himself to his feet and sauntered over to Pete. The smell of blood got even stronger and Pete just managed to keep himself from lunging toward it. 

“Here,” Vegas said, voice low. “Let me give you a taste.”

Pete should have said no. Should have tried to resist. It was almost a relief that there wasn’t much he could do to stop Vegas from putting the glass to his mouth and tipping it, blood lapping at his dry, cracked lips, still warm. Pete’s eyes rolled back in his head at the first taste, and he didn’t know if the intensity was for how long he’d gone without or because of how fresh the blood was. 

Then blood filled his mouth too fast and he was choking, his head jerking back so it spilled down his chin and over his chest, dripping onto the floor. The glass pulled away and Pete let out an involuntary sound of loss before he could bite it back, his mouth and nose still full of the smell of taste and smell. 

There was a strange mix of expressions on Vegas’s face: satisfaction and scorn and a touch of disgust. 

“What a mess,” he said. “Look at all that wasted blood.” Pete stared at him, dizzy and embarrassed and furious. And still hungry, appetite barely touched by the little he’d managed to swallow.

“Still,” Vegas said after a couple seconds of silence. “Maybe we’ll do this again later. If you’re good.”

Then Pete was alone again. The blood itched as it dried.

[mitchellpete]

Dating Maverick (Headcanons)

summary: What dating Mav is like. (In ‘86 and in TG:M)

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x gn!reader

genre: fluff, a bit of angst

word count: 1278

A/N: if anybody wants a drabble/one-shot or for me to expand on any one of these (or if you wanna just talk about or exchange hcs), drop me an inbox! 

-

1986 (and a few years after-ish)

Maverick is a very gentle lover. It didn’t seem so at first, with how cocky and flirty he might’ve been to catch your attention, but after the second date? So vulnerable and soft with you.

He can sing! Like actually super well. You noticed one day and now you ask him to sing when you can’t sleep. He was kind of self-conscious at first, used to singing with Goose in a playful, rowdy manner, as opposed to softly to you. He grew more comfortable as time passed, and now he likes to sing you his mother’s favorite songs.

But also gets incredibly obnoxious sometimes and will loudly impersonate Elvis while you’re trying to get something done.

Spontaneous road trips on his motorcycle (when he’s able). Dinner in Oceanside. Lunch in Palm Springs. A pick up in Vegas. A day in Phoenix. When? Now! Now?!

Knows the Southwest like the back of his hand, actually. It’s not as fun as flying, but driving through the wide, open stretch of desert with you clinging behind him is one of his absolute favorite pastimes.

Is from somewhere in the Southwest, therefore he absolutely hates the cold. Will have the heater on in the winter time and is not opposed to getting wrapped up in blankets by you. You tease him on how easily cold he gets, and he’ll playfully go “Whatever.”

You frequently find random candid photos of you. Taped to his wall, to his fridge, suddenly framed on his bedside table. He almost never mentions them until you laugh and point them out, to which he responds, “I thought you looked pretty there.” (With a shit-eating grin.)

Definitely has one in his F-14, by the way.

Is very stubborn about his attire. Very insistent on dressing like a cowboy at all times. You had to buy him his first pair of beach shorts.

Loves seeing you in his clothes; he’s crazy about it, actually.

Very cute lunch dates. He knows the best diners.

He likes taking you out for ice cream. Sometimes you share a cone and watch the sunset and the planes soaring through the sky. 

He’s the best kisser. He prefers soft, sensual kissing and it definitely has its effect on you.

He has a habit of leaving paper planes everywhere. Some with love notes in them, others with funny doodles. Sometimes it’s just both of your names written, a little heart in between. 

He rambles a lot. He’s very, very passionate about flying, and about his plane. Though you might not know what he’s talking about, nodding along with a simple smile and asking him a few questions makes him so happy. “Well, no, you see..” And then he goes on and on again. 

At the same time, Maverick can be difficult sometimes. Especially after Goose. Sometimes he feels he needs to be alone, but don’t take it personally. He appreciates your support, but he’s been conditioned to “suck it up and move on.” It weighs on him to have to try, so expect him to be a bit quieter at times, a bit slower. You can sit around with him as he sulks, your head on his shoulder to let him know you need him, and that he’s loved. That he doesn’t have to isolate.

You get to watch him visibly becoming Bradley’s father figure. 

“Hey, about tomorrow’s date. Can I bring the kid?” 

Melting when he’s got Bradley in his lap in front of you, making airplane noises with a french fry to watch Bradley giggle and clap. Your heart swells at how good he is with him.

“Pete.. You can’t take him to watch that movie; it’s not for kids.” His signature grin. “Carole won’t mind.”

-

TG:M

Still sings to you. Or, in general, really. He likes to hum while making you breakfast.

He writes all your dates on his calendar. 

He’s very playful with you. Likes making you double over in laughter because it usually results in you wrapping your arms around him and kissing him.

But he also enjoys when you tease him. Tell him there’s something he can’t do as well as he used to and boy, he will prove you wrong. He insists he’s getting better with age.

He’s still as flirty as ever. Except, you’re already dating, so he does it to watch how flustered you get. He loves making you blush.

He likes pet names. Sweetheart and honey are the ones he calls you the most.

He still does not like proper beach attire. Will roll up his jeans and call it a day.

He loves beach days with you, though. He likes laying back on the sand and watching you sunbathe, or play in the water.

You’re almost scared of phone calls now, with the way you’ve been called and informed of the accidents he’s been in while testing his planes. Though most are minor, you can’t help but worry that the next one might not be.

You’ve cried to him a couple times, making him promise he’ll be careful.

He’s a bigger cuddler at his older age, with the habit of pulling you from where you stand, from whatever you’re doing, and tugging you into bed with him.

He likes it when you play with his hair. It’ll lull him to sleep sometimes. Especially when you gently massage at his scalp, and bonus if you’re giving him kisses too. The fastest way to get him asleep, truly.

Alternatively, he also likes playing with yours. He’ll randomly twirl a strand when you’re in front of him, will tuck another behind your ear, will softly intertwine his fingers in it while you lay on him. 

When he’s able, sleeping in together. As often as he can. 

He notices you so well. If something is bothering you, he’ll make sure to find out what it is. He’s also a very good problem solver (duh, but with mundane things too). You feel like he deals with a lot, so you don’t always take every single one of your problems to him, but boy, when he figures out something is wrong? Expect him to walk you through the simplest of things if that’s what you need. He has an unbelievable amount of patience with you. And if it’s something he can’t help with, he’ll at least want to be there with you as you deal with it. He can be the best listener if you need him to be.

Is a lot more domestic and able to settle down. Likes the idea of having a “home” with you. (Not that he didn’t when he was younger, but he feels more grounded now. More grown up. Able to breathe a bit better.)

He makes your coffee just the way you like it. If he’s up before you, he always wakes you up with it, and a kiss on the forehead.

The days spent in his hangar. 

Sometimes, in the summer, a late night thunderstorm will pass through, and there’s nothing more thrilling than cuddling up to him in the trailer, the both of you giggling at the sound of the rain pattering and the loud cracks of thunder. 

But also the days! Though he’ll be occupied with something, you’re always a mere 10 feet away, reading or sketching or entertaining yourself in whatever way you can. Other times you just watch him work. Other times you ask him to tell you his infamous stories, or about his dad. He’ll have sort of a sad smile as he talks, but you know that he loves talking about the past. You make sure to always make room for it in the tranquility of the desert.

[peachym00]

"No pools."

kpanniversary2024 - prompt: haunting

(post-canon, post-hospital)

When the smell hit his nose, it stopped Pete in his tracks. It was enough to tear him away from the present and take him back to the dark and painful memory that hid in the shadows of his very being—lurking there, waiting.

Haunting him.

He was only there for a favour. It wasn’t like he needed the money; for once in his life, he had more of the stuff than he knew what to do with. But he wanted to get out of the house, to feel like he had more of a purpose, to feel like he still had a friend. Porsche needed help. That much was clear to anyone within six feet of him and his attempts at being the new head of the minor family. And Pete, being Pete, couldn’t help but hold onto the hand that reached out for him.

They weren’t even in the minor family compound. Pete didn’t make a habit of returning there very often, and Vegas and Macau even less. For obvious reasons, it wasn’t somewhere that any of them wanted to spend their time.

But Pete hadn’t smelt that smell since it happened. And when it hit him as he walked past the outdoor pool in the gentle warmth of the late afternoon sun, his body went cold with immediate dread.  

One whiff of chlorine and he was back to that night, the pain shooting through his knees as he dropped to the floor, the sight of Vegas’s skin losing its colour as the life drained from his body—the sound of his own screams as he mourned what was in front of him.

It was…visceral. The image of the scene of his worst living nightmare playing before him like he had a front seat at the theatre. And it wouldn’t stop. Why was there a ringing in his ears? Just playing over and over and over and over–

Pete.

and over and over and over and over–

“Pete!”

The ringing stopped, and he was wrenched out of the past and back into the present.

“Huh?” He asked dumbly, emotionally distraught and hoping desperately no one had noticed.

“You okay, man?” Porsche looked concerned as he pulled down his sunglasses and perched them on the end of his nose so he could peer down at him.

He blinked. “I’m fine,” he plastered on a smile, breathing in and out slowly in a bid to stave off the ever-building panic.

Porsche frowned, though he slowly pushed his glasses back up his nose, maintaining his immaculate play-pretend persona. “All right, man, if you say so. Anyway, so if I send over those files–”

Most things after that fly straight over his head. His body goes on autopilot, almost as if he blacks out. It's not until he somehow drives back home and sits in the driveway of his new house, tucked deep into a fancy gated neighbourhood, that he comes back to his senses. His hands shake as he takes the keys out of the ignition, stiffly getting out of the car and making his way into the house.

It’s quiet when he walks inside, yet his mind is anything but. The sudden need to find Vegas, to see him with his own eyes just to prove he’s still alive, takes over him. He barely remembers to take off his shoes before he rushes further inside, searching through every room until he finds who he’s looking for.

By the time he finds Vegas, who is tucked into the corner of the couch in the spare room, his heart is palpitating out of his chest. The window was perfectly positioned to let in the afternoon sun, so he could frequently be found napping there. Fatigue plagued him in his recovery, and it was not uncommon to come across him asleep. But today, the sight of him passed out does not make him smile. It makes Pete want to scream and howl and wish he would never close his eyes again (for as long as he lives).

He hardly makes a sound as he tiptoes across the room, but he manages to disturb Vegas anyway, his eyes squinting open before Pete has a chance to sit down. “You’re back,” he croaks, eyes brightening as his gaze lands on him. “how’d it go?” He yawns as Pete sits down next to him.

The answer to the question escapes him; in fact, most thoughts escape him. The black cloud of the past still looms over his brain, flooding his memories.

“Pete?” A hand on his knee makes him jump slightly, “what’s wrong?”

“Let’s not get a pool,” he manages, forcing down the need to scream.

“What?” Vegas laughs incredulously, pulling Pete’s arm so he sinks into his side.

“I don’t want to get a pool; let’s not build one,” he repeats, closing his eyes in relief when he can hear the beat of Vegas’s heart underneath his ear.

“Okay. Whatever you want,” Vegas speaks quietly, confused, almost as if trying not to scare away a spooked animal.

A kiss is pressed to his forehead, and the need to scream dissipates.

“No pools.”

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Jeff x Alan & Kenta x Pete Colors Ep. 11

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here.

Disclaimer: I've been listening to Drake's "You Broke My Heart (Fuck My Ex)" on repeat for over two hours, so I'm *in* my feels, and all of them are salty.

Jeffrey, the red? Really?! Is it because you are looking at Barbie suffering and know the truth?! YOU KNOW, MOTHERF*CKER!

Love that Pete's side starts with the blue-est drink because he is a GOOD MAN, while Waymond's side begins with the non-blue side since he cannot pick a side in this color war!

Peter, I know you were a red, but I also notice you in that blue blazer, and the way you look at Waymond. I wish Waymond could see that no matter how much the red may linger, he NEEDS to make a choice. Be blue. Commit to it, Way Way.

Babe is back in black, Alan is blue, and Jeffrey is a LIAR!

"You broke my heart. I had my doubts about you from the start! I swear you're dead to me. Does Mercedes make a hearse? FUCK MY EX!"

All I'm getting out of this is Jeffrey and Charles have a dad and Decanus was the fall guy for this very-dumb-plan. I am not a Dean apologist, but I am very much on his side, without a doubt, no hesitation.

Alan Scale - 12/10. Why?! WHY?! It's not even the damn outfits. IT'S THE RED TUBE OF PRODUCT PLACEMENT Y'ALL ARE SHARING! Are y'all secret agents?! Do y'all have superpowers? What in the hell is y'alls deal?!

KIMBERLY! Not wearing red. I wouldn't either. Fuck them hoes. You're a free man now. I love you and I like you.

Alan, you have never done anything wrong (expect apologize to lying Jeffrey), and you using the blue tube of product placement is healing my soul. I love you. I like you. I respect you.

Pete in the blue shirt too! My holy trinity is coming through. Kimberly, Alan, and Peter, you are good men, and I have never doubted you. You three will save the day like the PowerPuff Girls. Sugar, Spice, and Chemical-X. Beat the hell out of Mojo Jojo Big Red. And in case it's not clear: Alan = Buttercup, Kim = Blossom, Pete = Bubbles

Kentana, why do you have spies at Bubbles' place?! You were spying on him in the woods, and y'all had that moment. Why are you so obsessed with him?

Jeffrey, in the blue. Better be telling Buttercup you're sorry for LYING and that you love him. You will never find a better man. NEVER!

Oh, are you telling him that?!

I think you are! There is pink!

Buttercup, these was cheesy af, and I'm disgusted at myself for smiling when the hearts connected.

POP OFF, SIR! Sex on the blue bed!

Sex in the blue shower!

Cuddles in the blue bathroom! Jeffrey is gonna be blue one way or another, even if Alan has to -redacted- it into him.

Big Red did wear red once?! Color me shocked, but who are these kids in the past? A blue kid and red kid? Which one are you, Kentana?

I love that the blue is *right* there next to Kentana, yet he stays in the black. He is a Black Brooder, but he is blue-adjacent, and I just do not understand why he can't be loyal to the blue instead of the red.

Oh, wait! Was that them as kids?! Pete, in his red pants, emerged from the blue (because he has always been a GOOD MAN!), but . . . that means Kentana was the little blue kid? Kentana, what made you go black? The abuse? The manipulation? You and Barbara are the same text, but different font, and I just need you to be better. Kiss Peter and let him heal you because this is the second time you have pushed him against a wall, and I think you want any excuse to be on him.

Waymond, I'm stressed over your ass. Color-coded boys in love get happy endings, and unlike Kentana who is color coded black and Southwest Airlines and Vegas' Hedgehog who are just pure color chaos, you refuse to pick a damn color. And do you know what that means? No happy endings. You are paired with Peter, and he is trying with you, but it's episode 11 and you haven't solidified your color. Are you black? Are you blue? Are you red? Are you gonna kiss Peter because if not, Kentana sure looks like he will? ARE YOU GOING TO GET A HAPPY ENDING?!

Peter, always in the blue! ALWAYS! Give that blue to Waymond. Give that blue to Kentana. And kiss them! I cannot support Waymond and Kentana's wrongs if they don't kiss a boy (with consent, Waymond!)

KENTANA! In the dark, again. Pete is always coming from the blue, and you are always in the dark. SEE THE LIGHT, KENTANA!

Oh my god! The dark versus light. Y'all were best buddies since childhood. Quit your shit, Kentana. You are a good guy in there. I saw it in the beginning when you looked sad that Barbie was being hit, but I need you to act! I need you to do something, and I'm hoping it won't be sacrificing yourself. Kiss a man! Kiss Kimberly already! You and Waymond are scaring me!

OH SHIT!

Pete. Liked. It.

Waymond. Waymundo. Way. I thought you were supposed to be with Peter and Kimberly and Kentana would be the new Kardashians, but . . . are you going to be the sacrifice? You cannot settle on a color. You haven't kissed a man (with consent). You are drinking all the time. You were taking pills to cope with life. Kiss any man so I can know you are safe.

FUCK!

Way, please touch Whiny Winifred and convince him not to do shoot. Way, please do not take a bullet for Barbara to atone for your sins. Barbie can fix himself if he is shot. Way, please do not do this to me. Please. I'm begging you.

Don't. Fucking. Do. It.

[lu-sn]

if you're still taking prompts, I'd love to hear you talk about Macau seeing through Pete at times when no one else does

PETE AND MACAU MY BELOVEDS!!!

the nice thing about macau is that he's in the mafia and related to vegas and therefore very accustomed to weird mafia shenanigans -- but he's also, like, normal. (relatively speaking.) so he sees pete get up to just-deranged-mafia!things and none of it even registers, but that also means he can cut through all of that mess to pick up on some of the more, ah, normal problems that pete has.

(vegas is not nearly as good at this as macau, because vegas is not normal in the slightest.)

for example. pete doesn't... make choices? he does when he really needs to (e.g. when the alternative is literally killing himself) but he's generally content to be handed things instead of choosing them. for instance, i don't think we ever saw him choose an item of food to eat in canon.

vegas knows this and has probably decided it will be his life mission to deduce exactly what food pete wants at every moment in pete's day without so much as a peep from pete. he will make pete taste-test everything under the sun and will analyze the most minute of pete's microexpressions to death, and then he'll add a pinch of lemongrass and try again. it's a point of pride for him to guess what pete wants correctly and then provide it.

macau, on the other hand, listens to pete go "we can go eat wherever you want, macau," and "i'm happy with whatever you order" for the fifteenth time and goes "dude. you're allowed to say you want something, you know."

(pete immediately bluescreens.)

macau examines him for a bit and then goes, much slower this time, "you're allowed to want things. it's, like, healthy, bro."

idk! i just have the feeling that macau has an uncanny ability to point at a particularly funky peteism and go "phi why are you like this. you really don't gotta be like this." and pete has Never Considered These Things Before, Ever.

macau is going to catch pete deflecting and retort with a "we're talking about you right now, not me." and he's going to watch pete bow and fake-smile at a bitchy authority figure and say "you can just tell him to fuck off, you know. you don't have to put up with that shit."

other people see pete doing these things and it doesn't even process for them as something odd. vegas knows it's odd, and sometimes can't figure out exactly why, and will definitely waffle about getting pete to talk about it. but macau is going to spotlight pete's issues with no remorse. he's gonna look pete in the eye like the blunt teenager he is and say, do you know you're human, too?

[analisegrey]

from a WIP-

This happens after the events of both I Want Your Touches to Scar Me (So I'll Know Where You've Been) and I Want You to Know the Wounds Are Self-Inflicted

They’re in bed curled up together, Pete draped partway across his chest, warm, relaxed, and delightfully naked. Vegas is running a hand up and down the smooth expanse of his back, and he's pretty sure if Pete had the capacity to purr, he’d be doing it. “Hey Pete?” “Hmm?” “You know you didn’t have to kill the guy in the cell with us, right?” There’s quiet for a moment, then Pete shifts, moving back, though not going far. He comes to rest again on his side, propped up on an elbow, head leaning on his hand. “How do you mean?” Pete’s voice is neutral, edging toward curiosity. Vegas turns as well so he can face Pete, see his expression more clearly. “You escalated the use of force; they could have killed you, Pete, and it wouldn’t have accomplished anything.” “It kept them from hurting you.” Pete says it like he’s stating an obvious fact. ‘The sky is blue’, ‘water is wet’, ‘it kept them from hurting you’. “It-” Vegas looks at him, searching Pete’s face, but all he finds is Pete looking placidly back at him, “Pete.” “Vegas?” He raises an eyebrow, like he thinks Vegas is being especially thick about something. “You do understand that in those sorts of situations, we’re equal targets? You’re not my bodyguard; it’s not your job to take hits for me. I’m perfectly capable of taking them myself, I’ve had counter-interrogation training, too.” Vegas reaches out and runs a hand down Pete’s arm, grasping his wrist and giving it a squeeze. “Please tell me you understand that?” Pete smiles at him, dimples popping into being on his cheeks. “Of course, Vegas. I know it’s not my job.” Vegas’s eyes narrow; he knows that smile of Pete’s. It’s the smile that Pete uses when he wants to placate, when what he's saying is technically true, but not the whole truth. Vegas sighs, and reaches to get an arm around Pete’s middle, dragging him close and delighting in the surprised yelp it pulls out of him. “Just so long as you do.” Pete cuddles closer, pressing kisses to Vegas’s chest, and Vegas finds himself quickly and thoroughly distracted.

[babybatscreationsv2]

Neighborhood Entertainment

Marvel | Peter/Everybody

With little to do in suburbia, gatherings at the Stark household are a regular thing. The wives gather to gossip around plates of food while the husbands slip into the basement to catch the game. Or at least, that's what their wives think.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings and tags below

Warnings/tags: cheating, gangbang, phone sex, rough sex, double penetration, spit roasting

His phone lit up where it rested on the kitchen counter. Tony Stark with a groofy grin on his face under the too bright lights of the Vegas casino from his bachelor party greeted him. Steve swiped to answer the call and put the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Tony! What's up?"

"Stevie! Hope it's not too early for ya," Tony answered.

"Not at all. Me and the wife were just making breakfast." Steve smiled at Peggy as she looked over her shoulder at him. He inhaled the savory scent of thick cut bacon as she dropped it onto the hot pan.

"Perfect," Tony said. Steve frowned.

"Are you okay? You sound-" he stopped as he heard an unmistakable wet, gagging noise. Then a slurping sound.

"Hey Steve!" Peter's voice called, not far away, but not close enough to the phone either. Then the wet noises continued.

"H-hey, Pete..." Steve answered. He swallowed the flood of saliva in his mouth.

"Is everything okay?" Peggy asked.

"Yeah, of course." Steve gave her another smile. "Tony says Peter has a bit of a cold, that's all."

Tony snickered into the phone. "He certainly has something in his throat." He moaned luxuriously. Steve could just imagine them, Tony's hand combing through Peter's hair, but he never needed to pull the boy closer, not when Peter loved to gag on it. He bet his chin was soaked with spit and his back was arched and he's probably wearing nothing but Tony's T-shirt.

"Anyway," Tony sighed. "We called to invite you and the missus over this weekend. We're having one of our barbecues."

"We'll be there," Steve said quickly. Peter stopped his sucking to give a 'yay' only to get his mouth stuffed full again. Steve turned toward the kitchen counter to hide himself.

"Fantastic," Tony agreed. "Don't forget to bring a dish or at least something to throw on the grill."

"Who's grilling this time?"

"Oh, another barbecue?" Peggy asked. "That sounds lovely. The weather is supposed to be perfect this weekend."

"What did she say?" Tony asked, cruel little bastard that he was.

"She said the weather should be perfect," Steve said quickly. He tried not to flinch when his wife came closer. She brought her face right up to the phone.

"I can't wait to see you boys again! We'll bring that cod Peter liked the last time," she said.

Steve's heart beat in his ears. He assumed that was the reason the obscene noises stopped until he realized Tony must have noticed she was by the phone.

"That sounds great, Peg! I'll tell him."

"See you soon!"

"Can't wait!"

Peggy went back to the stove and Steve took a slow, deep breath. "You're grilling this time right?"

Tony laughed. "Yeah yeah, I've got these holes all to myself right now. Saturday, he's all yours."

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he thought he heard Peter moan.

"Well, if that's all, we have preparations to make," Tony said coyly.

"Who else is coming?" Steve asked, refusing to let him hang up. Not while he could hear Peter's throat getting flossed. That boy was made for cock.

"Oh the usual gang. Bucky and Nat, Sam and Sharon. Happy said he might stop by."

"May's coming?"

"Definitely."

Steve closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. It was so much better when Peter's aunt was there. That wet squishing sound was already gonna make him come like a teenager. Thinking about Peter's mother figure in the next room was really making his head spin.

"Good boy," Tony purred. "You want Stevie to hear what a good job you do? What a good little cock sucker you are? Aw, that's so sweet, baby. He's looking at me with those eyes, Steve. He wants me to cum down his throat.

"Do it," Steve growled.

Tony chuckled. "Careful, big guy. You'll burn your flapjacks." Then he gasped and Steve knew too well what Tony sounds like when he cums. The way his breathing gets heavy, then stutters, that growling moan, and a sigh like he just sipped a cool drink on a hot day.

"What a good boy," Tony praised.

"Thank you, sir." Peter's voice, so ragged and cracking, the way he coughed a little after he spoke... Steve held it together but only just. He could wait for the weekend.

Peggy's hand touched his shoulder. Steve hoped he didn't look as horny as he really was as he looked at her. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled. "May's coming for the barbecue."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" She gave him a quick kiss that had him gripping the counter for support. He watched her turn away to tend to the bacon.

"Let me help you finish up. I'll just wash my hands." He hurried to the bathroom and turned on the sink. He splashed cold water on his face until his body cooled and dried off before returning to the kitchen.

Peggy stood there, arms crossed, watching him with a scowl.

"What's wrong?"

She pointed to the kitchen sink. "What's gotten into you this morning?"

Steve laughed. "Sorry, I'm just thinking about Peter's potato salad."

"I don't know what he does, but it's addictive isn't it?"

Steve grabbed the eggs from the fridge and joined his wife at the stove. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, but in his mind he was replaying the phone call.

Smoke drifted up from the grill making the bright afternoon hazy. Tony picked up his tongs and turned over the chicken breasts, enjoying how they sizzled. He closed the grill and set the tongs aside just as two new faces came through the back fence.

"Hey! Steve, Peggy, you made it!" Tony greeted the couple. He crossed the grass to give Peggy a hug and Steve a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Thank you for inviting us," Peggy said politely. She offered him a plate wrapped in tin foil. Tony took it with a smile.

"Perfect! I'll pop this on the grill. It won't be long before we eat."

"I can't wait," Peggy said before interrupting herself. "Oh, Sharon and Natasha are already here!" She wandered away to join the other ladies as they sipped fresh lemonade under a canopy set up in the yard. A folding table was set up beneath, surrounded by chairs.

"Where's Peter?" Steve asked once she was gone.

"In between Bucky and Sam last I saw. Better go on before he gets tired."

Steve scoffed. "He's passed out before. He doesn't mind it."

Tony laughed. He started walking toward the house with Steve close to his side. "Are you kidding? We watch that one back all the time."

"You really gotta send me the footage."

"Nope. We've got one rule."

He opened the door to the basement. They passed the lounge where the TV blared the sports network in case the women came poking around. Through the door that only Tony had a key to, they found Peter.

His pretty little husband was caught in the middle of what looked like a fight to the death. Bucky pounded his ass, hands squeezing his thighs, pinning his legs to Bucky's chest. While Sam violated his throat, making it bulge big enough to be seen from the doorway. Peter's own dick was hard, but his orgasm was mercilessly trapped by the expertly tied rope that pulled his balls down and away from his body then came up to squeeze the base of his cock. His hands were pinned to the mattress beneath Sam's. The sounds he was making could make a monk cum in his robes. Tony was certainly struggling to hold it together, at least.

"Fuck," Steve swore.

Tony joined them on the bed. He pet Peter's chest, then he slid his hand down his belly, pressing down until he could feel Bucky's cock. Peter squealed, gurgling as he choked on Sam.

"That's my good boy," Tony cooed. "You're doing perfect, baby."

"One of you better move over," Steve snapped. He slipped off his belt and let it drop to the floor. He approached the bed, already taking himself out.

"Or what?" Bucky grinned. He stopped his furious fucking, to instead pound the boy with thrusts that shoved him up the bed and made him moan and grab at Sam's wrists for support.

"Move over," Steve growled.

"No fighting," Tony warned. "There's plenty of room for everybody. You two will just have to cuddle."

"Excuse me?" Steve snapped.

Bucky laughed. He bent Peter's knees to put his legs around him and leaned forward hands up by Peter's head.

"There's room for two."

"You sure?" Steve looked at Peter, then at Tony.

"Hey, Pete?" Sam let go of one of Peter's hands as he wiggled his fingers in answer. "Steve and Bucky want to DP you. How's that sound?" Peter gave a thumbs up.

Tony grinned. "See, he wants it."

"Hell," Steve swore. He climbed onto the bed behind Bucky, between both his and Peter's legs. He shoved Bucky forward to get better leverage, but he didn't complain. It took some maneuvering, but he had no trouble stuffing the head of his cock into Peter's already stuffed hole.

Peter whined beautifully, the sound growing whimpery like a puppy the more Steve pushed his way inside him. Sam stopped his throat fucking to let him breathe and to watch what Steve was doing.

"Fuck- shit," Peter gasped. Tony bent down and kissed his neck. "Please please please-" he started to beg.

"Not yet," Tony said. His hand stroked Peter's chest again. "Be a good toy."

Peter nodded weakly, voice gone like Steve was pushing into his throat. "Yes," he gasped.

"That's my good boy."

Steve reached around Bucky with one hand to hold Peter's hip. The other hand held Bucky's shoulder.

"You ready, sweetheart?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah, please," Peter gasped. He moaned as Steve started to move, the sound turning into pathetic whimpers and gasped pleas. He looked entirely lost and helpless, hanging limply off of both of their cocks.

"Better quiet him down before we're interrupted," Sam said. He stuffed Peter's mouth full of cock again while everyone laughed.

"I better check on the food," Tony said "I'll be back in a bit. Take care of my boy."

"Oh yeah, there's a barbecue happening," Bucky laughed.

"Won't be long before it's time to eat," Tony said from the doorway. He shut the door and locked it behind him. He checked to make sure he was presentable before heading back outside.

He took his place at the grill. The wives were still chatting away. Up until Sharon tapped his shoulder.

"Hey, we're out of lemonade. You don't mind if I run inside for a second do you?"

"Uh," Tony hesitated, thinking it through as fast as he could. "Why don't you man the grill and I'll grab it?"

"Sorry, but the last grill I touched burst into flames," she laughed.

Natasha stepped in behind him. "I've got it. Go get us drinks, big guy." He nudged him out of the way with her hip. Tony looked at her for a moment. He could see it in her eyes. That son of a bitch, what did Bucky tell her?

Tony went inside, admittedly sweating. He grabbed another cold pitcher of lemonade from the fridge, barely stopping to enjoy the sweet sounds coming from the basement. She wouldn't say anything to the others would she?

He went back outside and brought the pitcher to the table, beneath the shade of the canopy. "Pretty day, huh?" he said.

"It's beautiful," Peggy agreed.

"Thanks, Tony." Sharon poured herself another glass.

Tony went back to the grill. Natasha just smiled and shook her head. She patted his shoulder. "Boys will be boys, right?"

Tony raised his eyebrows, completely speechless.

"They're happy. They have good relationships." She pointed at the house. "That keeps them where I know where they are. They go anywhere else-" she snapped the tongs at Tony's crotch and he jumped. She laughed.

Tony swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're kinda cute when you're nervous."

"I'm flattered, but I'm married."

She laughed again. "Keep it that way."

She went back to the table, leaving Tony stunned. At least she knew her way around a grill.

It wasn't long before Bucky came outside. He stretched and breathed in the fresh air looking like he'd just left a spa. Nat gave him a kiss and pulled him down to sit beside her. He rested his arm along the back of her chair, the pair of them the portrait of a happy marriage. Sam followed right after, greeting the group with an 'evening ladies.'

Then Happy entered the gate. Tony took his plate of very much store bought cookies and set them with the rest of the food.

"Is May here, yet?" he asked, eyes searching the yard.

"Nope, you've still got time. Come on." Tony led him up to the house.

"Oh, good good. How's Peter?"

"He's great. He's really gotten into gardening lately."

"I noticed that!" Happy said as they entered the locked room. "Those tulips are stunning by the way," he said to Peter.

Peter smiled, looking up at him with head hanging off the bed. Steve was taking his time, riding his ass with deep, lazy thrusts.

Happy pulled his cock from his pants and joined the party. "Let's make it quick, kid. Your aunt's gonna be here any minute."

Peter opened his mouth and obediently sucked as Happy put his cock inside. He didn't have a lot of leverage, but he never lacked enthusiasm. Happy stood over him, letting Peter do the work, while he toyed with his nipples to make him whine, playing him like an instrument.

"God," Steve sighed.

"He's pretty isn't he?" Happy agreed. "Fuck, I never last long in this kid's mouth."

Peter reached up to play with Happy's balls, getting him worked up and on the edge in no time.

"He fucking squeezes when you pinch them like that," Steve groaned.

"Yeah, like this?" Happy pinched Peter's nipples until he whimpered. Steve moaned. "What a good boy. Let's get another load in you, kid. You know you need it."

Peter moaned. Steve fucked him faster, the week of build up finally catching him to him as he listened to suck that cock. He squeezed his waist, putting bruises above the ones Bucky had left on his nips, and came as deep as he could get, adding to the mess already inside him. He could see Peter's cock jump against his belly, desperately trying to cum with him. It almost had him going back for another round.

Happy took his cock from his mouth to jack off over his face. Peter laid still, mouth open and tongue out. He moaned along with Happy as he came all over his face. Then he sucked the tip clean for him.

"Good boy," Tony praised. "Get dressed, I'll grab the guys for the finale." He hurried back outside, eager to let go of what had been building since that morning. Especially since Peter spent the morning between his legs like the persuasive little brat he was. He just couldn't wait to have cock in his mouth even though he knew neither of them would be getting off for hours.

"Hey, fellas! The game's almost over!" He called to the group. They immediately disengaged from their wives and started up the lawn, making half baked excuses about not wanting to miss the final play. The women rolled their eyes and laughed fondly as they watched them go back inside the house.

Tony all but ran back inside. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, leaving both hanging. Everyone gathered around the bed and watched as Tony stuck his cock inside his husband, feeling the cum already inside him.

"Please," Peter moaned.

"Begging already, baby? You know you're not done yet." Tony fucked him hard and deep, lost in the perfect squeeze of his ass. Peter's cock was turning sore and red. He couldn't resist giving it a stroke. Peter screamed and clawed at the bed. Bucky was the quickest to jump forward and cover his mouth.

"Shh, sweetheart. They'll think we're torturing you."

"Might as well be," Steve said. "Look how much he loves it, though."

"He's such a good toy," Tony agreed. "Just a chew toy for all the men in the neighborhood, aren't you?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy." Tony stroked his cock again, before beginning to unwrap him.

"Please please please," Peter gasped.

"Use your big boy words," Tony mocked. He pulled the rope free. It was a visible change as blood rushed to further fill out his election. It must have hurt.

"Please, sir," Peter moaned. "Please can I cum, can I cum for you sir, please-"

"Cum."

Bucky's hand nearly covered his whole face as it clamped around his mouth. The rest of the room clapped and cheered. Peter screamed, back arching, cum spraying like a hose, making a mess of himself from his head down to his thighs. And he kept cumming while Tony kept fucking him, far longer than it should be possible.

"That's our boy," Sam praised.

"Fuck, Peter. That was gorgeous," Steve said.

Bucky took his hand away. Peter's face was red and sweaty. He whimpered as Tony continued to fuck him. His hands searched the bed and ended up with one hand holding Tony's and the other holding Bucky's.

"He's already getting hard again," Happy commented.

Tony was beyond words, merely panting as he fucked him, chasing his orgasm while Peter mewled beneath him. He wrapped a hand around Peter's spent cock and found it still half swollen. Peter whined pitifully at the touch, it was clearly painful but no less pleasurable for it at this point.

"Please please please please," he begged again.

Tony waited until he was on the edge. "Cum," he growled, filling Peter's ass himself, cumming hard and so much that he felt the mixture of fluids squishing out onto his jeans. He swore and bent his head to give Peter a kiss as the boy tried to keep quiet and still helplessly whimpered. The room burst into further applause.

Everyone filtered out only for Steve to return a moment later. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, Pete. Your aunt's here," he announced.

Peter blinked at him with wet eyes. "Can you tell her I'm sick?"

Steve laughed. "No, I was thinking of telling her that her nephew got gangbanged by the whole town."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "Don't you upset May."

"He's just teasing," Tony laughed. "We'll have a quick shower and we'll be right out."

"You got it." Steve shut the door and left them alone.

Tony kissed him and held him in his arms. "How are you feeling?"

Peter smiled and rubbed his face against Tony's shirt. Tony feigned disgust.

"You're the cum bucket, not me," he complained.

Peter smiled. "You're gonna have to carry me. I don't think I can walk."

[ae-azile]

The Non-Newtonian Newborn: Chapter 12 Preview

Vegas has grown used to hearing the sound of Venice’s fussy cries through the baby monitor. Sometimes the cries happen earlier than he would like, but overall, they are almost reassuring. He is starting to hone in on whenever the cries sound like they're off. If he's sick, he will sound more hysterical or hoarse. If it is just a temporary, attention-seeking cry, it varies in volume and usually dies down more quickly than if it is due to being hungry or having a dirty diaper. He didn't necessarily want to take in his half brother. He was just left by his father’s ex-fling, a woman who wanted child support to raise a newborn in the home of a drug kingpin who had technically been an ally, but always obnoxious. The thought of his relative being raised by him left a sour taste in his mouth, but he was going to let it go. It had been Pete that couldn't. Pete stressed about it for days non-stop until Vegas made the arrangements for a DNA test. When that came back positive a few days later, he paid the woman enough money to happily give up her son without a second thought.

And now, Venice is their son. It isn't as though Vegas has never thought about having children. He just figured he would never find someone who loved him enough to want that with him. For some reason, Pete loves him in a way that sometimes overwhelms Vegas in the best way possible. But prior to adopting Venice, Vegas would have fleeting but fantastical thoughts of a baby with Pete’s dimples and smile. He thought that maybe - if they did find someone willing to be a surrogate who they could highly compensate - they could maybe use Pete’s sperm.

Instead, they have a miniature version of Vegas. Despite only being half-siblings genetically, Venice somehow looks more like him than Macau does. At first, Vegas was put off by it. He knew it stemmed from self-loathing and intrusive thoughts about how Pete likely felt forced to do this.

Despite it being Pete’s idea.

But he worked those issues into his already ongoing therapy. He's doing a lot better, and he sees Venice as his child, rather than his brother. In fact, raising him with Pete has been so worthwhile that he figures he may bring up surrogacy or adoption in a few years. Vegas enjoys being an older brother, and Pete always wanted siblings. It's only fair Venice gets a sibling too.

But for now, Vegas is good with one baby. So he is incredibly confused when he stops making lunch to look at the monitor’s display screen and sees a second baby in Venice’s crib.

“Pete?” Vegas calls out, peeking his head out of the kitchen to say his name again in the direction of the hallway, “Pete!”

It takes Pete a moment, but he comes out with Venice’s laundry basket that is filled with nearly folded clothes, “What? Do you need help with something?”

“Come here,” Vegas says. How is he supposed to explain something when he doesn't even know where to start? The image on the screen explains the situation anyway, even though the situation is nonsensical.

“What exactly am I looking at?” Pete asks, squinting at the monitor as Venice’s cries turn into tearful giggles as the other baby babbles happily.

“I don't know, but we should go upstairs,” Vegas says. He quickly turns off the burners, then goes upstairs with Pete to Venice’s nursery. Venice has rolled himself into his stomach and is lifting his head up the best he can to look at the other baby. When Vegas stands over the crib, he sees that she is wearing an emerald green dress. She is smaller than Venice and looks no more than a week or two old, yet is continuing to happily babble to their child. Her engagement for what looks to be her age seems highly advanced.

“What…” Pete starts, looking around, “Do you think someone just…broke in and dropped her off?”

“Ah!” the baby shouts as she lies on her back. Then she looks at Venice.

“Ah Ah Ooh.”

Venice smiles and turns to look at Vegas, “Ah Ah Ooh!”

“Okay,” Vegas says, then reluctantly bends down to pick up Venice. He immediately gets fussy over it, which is strange for him. Normally, getting picked up makes him happier.

“Take him,” Vegas says, handing him to Pete, “I'm checking her for a wire. Or a bomb.”

Pete looks alarmed at that, “Who would plant a bomb on a baby?!”

Vegas doesn't know. He doesn't even think Uncle Korn would pull that, and he's the most evil fucker Vegas has ever met. He might plant a wire on a baby though. So he gives her a quick apology, checks under her dress, and reluctantly checks her diaper before deciding she has no devices on her.

It just makes this even more confusing.

“Ooh?” the baby says, then lifts her arms, as if she wants to be picked up too. And because she is just a baby, Vegas goes ahead and does it. They can't leave her in their son’s crib. Vegas supposes they can call the police. He’d rather not. He still has connections despite his lack of involvement with his family's business dealings, but contacting them may lead to word getting back to Kinn and Porsche. While he is fine with Porsche, he doesn’t want Kinn’s help.

“What should we do?” Pete asks, “I…Did you hear anyone come in? She definitely wasn't there when I put him down for a nap. I can call Porsche. Or…Or Arm-”

Vegas cuts Pete off with a scoff, “What the hell are they going to do about this?”

“I don't know,” Pete says, “Porsche could maybe let us know if weird things have been happening. Arm could see if our security system was interfered with-”

“Ah!” the baby says, cutting Pete off. As Vegas continues to study her, he doesn't come up with any other answers. The thing is, she looks familiar. He feels some weird connection to her, and he would sound crazy if he said it out loud.

Instead, he decides to just ask her.

“Who are you?” Vegas says as the baby looks up at him, “Who brought you here?”

The baby’s eyes are twinkling as she stares up at him with a strangely large amount of love. Then, she breaks into a huge grin as she says three words.

“Ah Ah Ooh!”

And suddenly, Vegas finds himself questioning reality altogether.

[hawkshadowwrites]

🩸 worshiping the altar of your hips 🩸

Vegaspete; 2k

Tags: thigh biting, blood play, vampire Vegas, human Pete

///

Pete has proven to be the most delightful pet. More than anything else, Pete responds to Vegas as if Vegas is a god, not a monster.

Vegas knows what he is. Has always known what he is. He has never been ashamed of this, or felt the need to justify his urges or desires; Vegas is not nice, or kind, or generous. He is cruel and callous and cavalier with the people around him, has lied and stolen and cheated to get what he wants.

He doesn’t know how to be given something, freely, without condition. He doesn’t know how to accept a gift or an offering simply because that person saw the need or desire to do so.

But that’s all that Pete does. All that Pete is.

Since that moment in the dungeon, since Pete came apart with just the feel of Vegas’s fangs in his neck, he has been insatiable. Obsessive. Fervent.

Pete craves Vegas almost as much as Vegas craves Pete; eager and willing to offer his neck for Vegas to sink his teeth into, dipping under a haze of submission to be nothing more than what Vegas wants from him.

Pete… is everything Vegas could possibly have ever imagined, or wanted, or desired. And Pete is all his.

Pete offers his body to Vegas for his own pleasure, sex, or violence, or hunger, all one and the same between them, inextricable from the other. Vegas delights in making Pete come all over himself from just the act of feeding on him, making his body with bruises and bite marks and bloodstains, from his neck all the way down to his stomach.

However, one thing that Vegas has recently discovered, is how sensitive Pete’s thighs are. How responsive he is, how quickly he comes when Vegas gets anywhere near them.

So tonight he is going to have some fun with this.

“Hold still.” Vegas leans over Pete on the bed and tightens the rope wrapped around his wrists, tugging on it to make sure it is secure to the bedpost. His arms are extended out over his head, the rope crisscrossing his shoulders and down his torso to emulate a harness. Vegas leans forward and ghosts his lips along Pete’s, smiling when Pete tries to press himself into the kiss.

“I told you to be still,” Vegas scolds, and Pete just whines.

Vegas trails his lips down Pete’s neck, licking at the half healed cuts from this morning. Pete has enough of Vegas’s blood in him on a consistent basis that none of the marks or abrasions Vegas gives him lasts long at all, but it’s fun enough to see how far he can push it, how much Pete will bleed out before Vegas gives him more blood.

At this point the two of them are continuously linked, Vegas is comprised of Pete’s blood and Pete is comprised up of Vegas’s blood; the only thing left that Vegas can do is cut open Pete’s chest and hold his still beating heart in his hands.

He just might, Pete begs for it enough, after all.

Vegas settles himself down between Pete’s spread legs and traces his finger along the script of his tattoo, moving sideways to where Pete’s cock rests, dark red and weeping at the tip. Vegas looks up and holds Pete’s gaze and then brings his palm down, hard.

Pete spasms, the pain reverberating through him as his orgasm overtakes him, his cock spurting over his thighs and abdomen.

“I think this is the most fun when you’re still sensitive,” Vegas teases before leaning down and licking a long stripe of Pete’s come up off his skin. Pete just moans, body writhing away from the touch but also arching into it, always a duality of desire.

Vegas slides his hand down the soft skin of Pete’s inner thigh, squeezing his fingers into the tender skin and watching the color bloom under the pressure of his fingers. There are several places to draw blood in the thighs and some are detrimental — those Vegas will save for last, just to make things really fun.

He starts small. A gentle kiss on the inside of Pete’s left knee, tongue flicking along the crease and tasting the tang of Pete’s perspiration. He nips, just barely, and grins when Pete’s leg jolts in his grip.

“Easy,” Vegas chides. “Behave.”

Pete makes another noise of assent before relaxing in his grip, eyes wide and hazy as he watches Vegas. Vegas loves it when Pete goes nonverbal like this, not because he enjoys it when Pete doesn’t talk, but more-so for the fact that he is blissed out and flying high and desperate for every morsel of attention Vegas gives him.

He kisses the inside of Pete’s thigh, right alongside the crease of his knee, and takes time to make the smallest bite. He doesn’t even fully draw blood, just enough to break the skin and turn it a blooming pink. He wants to build up to the good stuff.

He moves up, this time nipping the tender skin until he feels the salty tang of blood, barely holding back his own moan at the intoxicating taste of it.

Everything about Pete is addictive, from his smell to his sweat to the taste of his skin, all of this which he willingly offers to Vegas. A lamb in the den of a lion, on the alter of sacrifice. Adoration met with temptation, purpose met with divine deliverance.

Vegas never truly had anything to believe in before this, but Pete is everything kept from him and more. A manifestation and embodiment of the desires of his soul, his own beating heart made into flesh and blood, ripe for the taking. And the tasting.

Vegas hides his smile in the skin of Pete’s thigh and moves further up, creating a small crescent moon with his incisors. Pete’s skin is warm now, the flush dark along the surface, blood working overtime as it spreads to his open wounds.

There have been times where Vegas has cut Pete open with his teeth, watched as crimson rain fell across the canvas of his skin, waiting until the beat of his heart was a faint little thing before cutting open his own wrist and holding it to Pete’s lips. Sacrilegious in the way he would then stroke his own cock as Pete drinks the blood of his keeper, ingests the divine force working to keep him living.

The way his hunger is unmatched, eyes feral and blazing with the heat of a hundred dying suns, a brand and a missive of expectation of belonging. This is usually enough to push Vegas over the edge, spilling his release in his palm only to remove his wrist from Pete’s mouth, only to have Pete lick up his come.

But for now, Pete is bound to the bed, arousal pulsing through him with each beat of his heart, a fragile breakable human that entrusts his existence to the creature that wants to devour him.

Vegas makes a deeper cut this time, a sharp slice of his teeth that has Pete gasping, the hot rush of blood trickling down the inside of his thigh getting perilously close to the bed before he licks it up, grin causing him to smear it along his cheek. He suckles at this one for a few moments, working a bruise that will turn purple and blue in the matching rays of the dawn light, a kaleidoscope of color in mirroring of nature and nurture. Or at least something to that effect.

He holds Pete down to the bed and kisses up the top of his quad, nipping at each mole to remark his own claim. He moves over to the other side and repeats the process, growing more impatient with himself as he tries to drag this out.

Really, he could have hours of fun with Pete, except that he gets to a point where he aches for it, he burns with the desire to consume, to ignite himself in the flames of revelation, licking up the sides of his enclosure as he dives deeper and deeper into hell. Temptation is one of the greatest sins, after all, but Vegas will suffer a million times for the taste of Pete on his lips.

Pete can’t hold back his moans now, cock hard again, thick and heavy hanging on his hip. He squirms under Vegas’s mouth and Vegas knows that he is just as eager as Vegas is.

Vegas moves up to where his pulse beats the loudest, the place where he carries his life force under such delicate conditions. Humans are fragile; fragile bones and skin and muscle and sinew, breakable from every facet and angle to be given a new purpose.

And this is Pete’s.

Vegas licks the skin right over the femoral artery, savoring the way Pete’s pulse throbs under his tongue. He aches for it, aches to sink his teeth into the tender skin and feel the flow of blood over his chin and lips, drinking until he can’t anymore. Pete twitches his thigh, pushing himself closer to Vegas’s mouth, tugging at the rope with a whine.

Vegas moves away and settles his urge by marking up a handful of new bite marks along the inside of his thighs, until he can feel the aching need from Pete. He settles himself back between Pete’s thighs and hooks his leg up over his shoulder, kissing down the line.

“We’ll only have a few minutes baby,” Vegas warns, placing a gentle kiss over the thrum of Pete’s life point. His other hand reaches between the cleft of Pete’s ass to push two fingers inside, twisting up until he pushes into his prostate. Pete spasms on the bed and makes a punched out sound, cock leaking on his stomach.

He is already stretched open from earlier, when Vegas spent an hour licking up inside of him with no other purpose than to just taste him. Vegas himself is on the edge, his own desire riding the delicate knife tip, needing to both be inside of Pete and to feel the beat of his heart on his tongue.

He curls his fingers again, massaging into Pete’s prostate until his second orgasm hits, causing him to go boneless on the bed above him.

Vegas sinks his teeth into the artery, and rips.

The rush of blood is immediate, covering Vegas’s lips and chin, soaking through the bedsheet underneath them. Vegas closes his eyes and drinks, allowing himself five seconds, ten, twenty, before ripping himself back. Pete is already going hazy, eyes fluttering as his body shuts down. Vegas hooks his other leg over his shoulder and slides him across the bed, the blood coating his skin as much as a lubricant as anything.

Vegas pushes his cock inside of Pete and sinks inside, Pete crying out as he bottoms inside. He knows he is close — being inside of Pete is like coming home — and he has a few minutes before his heart will stop working.

They’ve played this game before, racing the clock for their own carnality, and this time Vegas is determined to win. Just like always.

He bends Pete nearly in half and fucks into him with sharp snaps of his hips, the warmth of Pete’s blood covering his groin and easing the way. He leans in and slides his lips against Pete’s grinning when Pete realizes that Vegas’s mouth is still full of his own blood.

“That’s it baby,” Vegas praises, “just like that.”

He kisses Pete with the intensity of a thousand lifetimes, each second passing a threat against the eternity he plans to spend with Pete. With his heart and soul, spread before him like a gift.

Vegas groans when he comes, filling Pete with hot pulses of his own release, kissing Pete again with fervent delight as the wound on his thigh slowly stops bleeding.

Vampire blood has healing properties, but so does Vampire semen. No one knows, because no one has played around long enough to find out.

It’s not nearly as powerful as blood, so it’s a moderate fix, but Vegas knows with his own seed inside of Pete that he doesn’t have to worry about Pete bleeding out on him, as much of a feast as that would be.

Pete makes a noise and tugs again at the ropes and Vegas sighs, reaching up and slicing through them. Pete flexes his hands and looks at them for the briefest moment before sinking them in Vegas’s hair, dragging him in for another kiss.

Vegas will never get over the intensity in which Pete longs for him, in which after everything Vegas does, he still needs him.

[veliseraptor]

going to be on a plane on sunday so guess what time it is, it's 150 words meme time

send me up to three numbers and I'll write 150 words in the wip of your choosing! excerpts/options under the cut

1. :You were trying to grow things?: Song Lan said, picturing the dismal courtyard of the coffin house as he’d seen it. The faintest touch of a flush colored Xingchen’s cheeks. 

“I wanted a garden,” he said, almost defensively.

“And you did get one,” Xue Yang said. “Sort of. But only you could get anything to come up out of that ground, Daozhang.” There was a kind of forced cheer in his voice that didn’t quite disguise the wistfulness.

There was, briefly, just the flicker of a smile on Xingchen’s face. It vanished quickly, but it’d been there. “I suppose it’s gone now,” he said.

“I tried keeping it up,” Xue Yang said, “but I’m about as good at gardening as you are at cooking.” There was a strange gentleness to his voice, though, belying the insult. Xingchen’s face still fell, though. Song Lan winced.

“No,” Xingchen said, his voice colder. “You had no skill with living things.”

Xue Yang’s face fell, too. “I tried,” he said again, but Xingchen turned his face away and fell silent, closed off once again. (Life After Death)

2. “Don’t fucking–” 

“Vegas,” Pete said. 

“Do that,” Vegas snapped, fingernails digging into his palms. 

“You’re still healing,” Pete said. “The doctor said–” 

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctor said,” Vegas said, his voice starting to rise. “I should be able to–” 

Should be able to what? You can’t do anything. Useless, pathetic, waste of space.

He wanted to scream. He wasn’t going to scream. 

Pete didn’t deserve Vegas ripping into him about something that wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was going to walk away eventually but Vegas didn’t have to give him reasons to make it sooner. (post canon vegaspete long fic)

3. The first time, Vegas died next to the pool. Pete didn’t see the shooter coming; by the time he emptied an entire clip into him it was already too late. He sobbed into Vegas’s chest, clutching at his shirt like he could pull him back somehow. His thoughts were a jumble of no, not now, you can’t do this to me now, do you hear me–

But Vegas was still dead and there was nothing he could do, and so he didn’t do anything until somebody came and pulled him away. He fought, struggled and screamed, but it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t enough, and no amount of fighting would bring Vegas back from the dead anyway. He thought of Vegas touching his face and saying if I die today can you be the one who kills me? and sort of wished he had been, that he could have that much at least before turning the gun on himself and following after. (reduce, reuse, recycle)

4. “Dreams can be meaningful,” Xiao Xingchen said. Xue Yang laughed, but it was an ugly sound.

“You really think so?” Xue Yang said. “God, Xingchen, I knew you were into some new age bullshit but I didn’t know you were this deep in it.” 

Xiao Xingchen drew back, hurt. “That’s mean,” he said. Xue Yang’s mouth twisted. 

“Still true,” he said. “Come on. I thought you were smarter than to fall for that kind of woo-woo shit.”

“It’s not about being stupid,” Xiao Xingchen said, anger starting to break through the hurt. “You could stand to have a little bit more of an open mind.”

“An open mind,” Xue Yang sneered. “Maybe you could stand to be a little less gullible.”

“I’m not gullible!” Xiao Xingchen said. “Why are you being so, so…”

“So what does it mean that I dreamed I made you kill yourself?” Xue Yang snapped, his voice rising. “Or do you think that actually happened in this past life we’re supposed to’ve had?”

Xiao Xingchen blinked.

“Yeah,” Xue Yang said savagely. “Thought maybe you hadn’t considered that.”

“I don’t think you actually…” Xiao Xingchen cleared his throat. “When I saw dreams can be meaningful I don’t mean they have to be…literally true.”

“That’s not what you fucking said,” Xue Yang said. “You’re saying that dreams are memories of who we were. What’s that supposed to say about who I was, then?”

Xiao Xingchen opened his mouth, then closed it. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten about Xue Yang’s dreams. But he did think of his own nightmares, of darkness, nothingness, suffocating grief. And wondered, suddenly, if he had a past life that he was remembering, whether he really wanted to. (Redux)

5. “Turns out I’m sort of notorious,” Anders said, his grin hideously strained. “One or two people looking for me. The likeness isn’t great but…nobody told me I had to go but they…I’d’ve been putting all of them in more danger staying. I didn’t want that, so…”

“You’re not concerned about putting me in danger, I take it,” Fenris said, an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something tickling at the back of his mind, about the Fog Warriors, months on the run, every person he met a potential threat or a potential casualty. 

“Guess not,” Anders said airily, but a moment later he added, “it’s not the same for you. You’re not a mage.” 

“That much is certainly true,” Fenris said. Anders laughed, even though he hadn’t really meant it as a joke. 

“Are you really planning on going to Denerim?” Anders asked. “Or were you just saying that?” 

“I’ll need to find work somewhere,” Fenris said. “It seems as good a place to look as anywhere else.” He hadn’t been planning on it, but he hadn’t really been planning on anything else, either. He didn’t want to admit that, though; something about it seemed pathetic in a way he didn’t relish sharing with the mage. “Where were you thinking of going?” 

“Nowhere in particular,” Anders said. “Free as a bird, me. It’s been a while since I was in Denerim, could be fun to drop in.” 

Fenris eyed him, but decided to let it go. (the best all lack conviction)

6. It just fucking figured, didn’t it, that Vegas only realized how attached he’d gotten to Pete when he might’ve killed him. (Pyrexia)

7. His father wanted a demonic cultivator, so it fell to Jin Guangyao to find one. 

It was not exactly an easy task. If you listened to rumor, there were plenty of people in the jianghu who dabbled, but rumor was hardly accurate and it wasn’t as though he could approach its subjects – excuse me, I hear you practice a forbidden art, is that so – without at best arousing uncomfortable questions. (jgy teaches xy to read)

8. “Why does this bother you so much?” Song Lan asked instead of answering. “I wouldn’t expect you to care.”

“I don’t care about the people,” Xue Yang said. “What’re they to me? It’s the hypocrisy that bothers me. You talk a big game but you’re no different than the cultivation sects: only doing something when it’s convenient for you.” 

“It’s not a matter of convenience,” Song Lan said, stung. “What would you have me do?” Even before Xue Yang spoke he regretted the question. “Don’t answer that.”

“If you were going to be fair,” Xue Yang said, apparently ignoring him, “wipe the whole fucking town off the map.” 

“How is that fair,” Song Lan snapped. “Half of these people – more – are probably innocent. They might well have been entirely ignorant.”

“They still benefited,” Xue Yang said. “Still got good lives out of it. And never asked questions about how come fortune favored them, or where the disappearing people went, or – but sure, call them innocent.” His lip curled, and Song Lan had the sudden, odd feeling that Xue Yang was thinking about something else. “Funny, how you decide what’s your business and what isn’t. What’s worth seeking justice and what isn’t.”

“It’s not a matter of what’s worthwhile,” Song Lan said. “It’s a matter of what’s possible. I won’t kill these people. I’m not even certain what sect territory we’re in that I would report it to – and do you think they would do anything?”

“They never do,” Xue Yang said. “That’s why you have to do it yourself.”

Song Lan had that odd feeling again, like Xue Yang and he were talking about different things. “I’m not going to take the law into my own hands.” 

“Isn’t that how you work? Fix the problems the sects won’t solve?”

“Not to kill human beings!” (Walking Far From Home)

9. “Did I get your name?” He asked as they walked into the street. 

“Cassandra Pentaghast,” she said, her eyes straight ahead. Cullen couldn’t help turning to stare at her. 

“The Dragonslayer?” 

Oddly, she didn’t seem pleased. “I have been called that, yes.” 

He couldn’t decide if it was a good sign or a bad one that the Seekers had sent the Dragonslayer herself to talk to him. Considering the trend of his life so far, probably a bad one. But that was rank self-pity, and he shouldn’t indulge in it. 

As they walked to the docks to take a boat across to the Gallows, Cullen was acutely aware of the condition of the city. The scorch marks and destroyed houses, the makeshift shelters of people with nowhere else to go. He could practically feel the Seeker’s eyes weighing, assessing, judging. 

“We’ve been doing our best to handle the…aftermath,” Cullen said defensively. “But considering the suspicion and mistrust of – well, pretty much everyone – and the lack of any clear leadership, it isn’t easy.” 

“You haven’t taken that role?” 

Cullen tried not to hunch his shoulders. “I haven’t.” He could feel her staring at him, waiting for more explanation, but he didn’t offer one. (Salvage)

10. Time passed. Without benefit of light, she didn’t know how much, so she wasn’t certain how long it had been when she woke to someone standing in the doorway of her room, leaning against the frame and watching her with bright, intense eyes.

Wen Qing stared at him. He smiled at her.

“Hey, Wen-guniang,” said Xue Yang. “Fancy seeing you again! I heard they burned you alive.” 

She stood up, careful to keep her face calm and unaffected. She didn’t know him well, not personally. Their interactions had been fairly limited, by design. She’d found him once sitting with Wen Ning, apparently telling him a story, and for all his laughter and smiles there was something sharp in the way he’d looked at her brother. Curious in the way a cat was curious about a bug.

Wen-guniang! he’d said when he’d seen her. This is your brother, right? He’s so much fun to talk to.

“I’m not supposed to know you’re here,” Xue Yang said. “Technically. Course, technically you’re not supposed to be alive, either, but Lianfang-zun’s got an eye for talent.” He laughed. The way he said it, Wen Qing suspected he was quoting. 

She stayed silent. Perhaps it was beneath her to be just a little bit gratified by the flicker of irritation that crossed Xue Yang’s face, but she’d allow it. 

“What,” he said. “They didn’t cut out your tongue, did they?”

“No.”

Xue Yang grinned. “Good! That would’ve been pretty disappointing. I have so many questions for you.” (fall apart, destroy, release)

11. Xiao Xingchen groped after understanding. His head hurt so badly and kept spinning and he was so confused, knowing things were missing but not knowing what he knew was missing. “I don’t know,” he said, distressed. “I…something wrong. Something…bad?” 

There was a brief, terrifying pause and then a laugh that sounded genuinely amused. “What? You, Daozhang?”

Xiao Xingchen could feel his face warming but he shook his head. “It was something important,” he said. “That I should have…or shouldn’t have…but I can’t remember. Did I…” He took a careful breath and said, “did I hurt you, friend?” 

“Pff,” his friend said. “No. Don’t be stupid. Come on. You won’t let me kill spiders in the house.” A flash of memory at that image, legs tickling his palm and he could feel someone’s amusement even though no one was laughing. It must be his friend. But it seemed like someone else. 

He didn’t know who. 

“Oh,” he said vaguely. “That’s good. I’m glad it wasn’t you.” 

“It wasn’t me what?” 

“That I hurt,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I…” He was seeking in the dark, and he didn’t even know what he was seeking for. “I think I hurt someone very badly,” he said, his voice fading to a shamed whisper. For a long moment his friend was silent and Xiao Xingchen wanted to cringe. (xiao xingchen + concussion)

[blackwatervial]

The Pete Show.

For my rewatch of The Pete Show (sometimes and more uncommonly known as KinnPorsche The Series La Forte), I will be noting down time stamps in which the main character Pete (from the Pete Show) makes an appearance. I will also, as a little bonus, add appearances of his romantic interest “Vegas”. Today:

Episode 7

Rejoice, Pete enthusiasts, for episode 7 is here to remedy what episode 6 lacked. I mean, there's still not enough Pete in this one, but at least it's more than one, and those we meet are absolutely exquisit. We don't have to wait for long for our boy to appear. At minute 2, we see croupier Pete who inspired many a casino AU

Is it just me or is this the bowliest his bowl cut has ever been? So straight. So shiny.

At 12:30, a local idiot who should get his eyes checked for short-sightedness, called Vegas, forces Pete into the background again for yet another appearance of blurry Pete.

Look at that sunshine smile. Vegas you absolute and utter buffoon, stop looking at Porsche!

There's a very brief blurry Pete at 37:00, but he looks delicious so I'm showing him to you. You're welcome

At 39, we first meet Master Spy Pete, who is very bad at his job if the description was "try to stay unnoticed" and very good at his job if it was "attract the attention of the attractive apex predator"

Finally, no blurry Pete when Vegas looks at him. Then again, there is a distinct lack of alternatives.

At 47:40 we have a brief glimpse of Gun (not to be confused with Gun) Pete, which is a very good look on him

49:40 has Spy Pete once more - this time as an observer. Since the scene happens during a party of sorts, he's wearing something black and white, and also hoop earings! It pleases me greatly.

Love-Interest solo appreance counter

At 21:30 Vegas is making a fool of himself again and tries to flirt with Porsche by showing him his bike. Jfc, Vegas, his name is already Porsche! What does he need a Ducati for? Read the room.

53:08 gives us another attempt at getting a seat in the Porsche, yet again ending in failure. Absolute cringefail of a man

Bonus Episode alert!

Here, we have an EXTREMELY GOOD and EXTREMELY RELATABLE Pete. He just wants one day of peace. Just one day of not having to deal with this bullshit. One day of not having to work for complete dumbasses. I am this Pete, this Pete is me.

And oh, look! Of course Vegas is also back with more second hand embarrassment, trying to gift Porsche roses right in front of Kinn's hospital-issued salad. Dude you're such a manwhore manslaughter manfailure

Previous Pete Show Posts

[lu-sn]

what do you see as the most likely thing pete does post canon? is he involved in the family business? does he have a job outside the mafia? are he and vegas both retired?

let's assume vegas has recovered as much as he can from the shooting and that he's done whatever he needs to do to get himself and his family out from under korn's thumb. so we're talking deep post-canon.

if vegas is still in the mafia somehow — in any capacity — i have no doubt that pete will function as his right hand. (or left hand. hell, both.) he's definitely got the skill set for it, and i think he would really enjoy it! it's a perfect outlet for his brand of undying loyalty, and he gets to bestow that loyalty upon someone who is equally insane about him and who will let him beat up as many people as he wants ❤️

but i don't want that for them. i think vegas in particular deserves that soft epilogue — a chance at the life he could have had all along without his father hovering behind him. so let's imagine vegas has found something to do with his time that hits that perfect balance of high stakes and high fulfillment and very very high odds of survival. pete is very happy for him, and also the tiniest bit bereft. unlike vegas, pete needs something physical.

so pete is ambling back from the grocery store, idly wondering whether he needs to be trying to do something with all of his free time, when he stumbles upon some sort of scuffle just waiting to break out in a dank alleyway. and pete manages to spot a kid in there, far too young, definitely biting off more he can chew, definitely about to get his ass beat, and — well. pete's been itching for a fight anyway.

pete hikes up his pha khao ma and lays everyone in that alley flat, and once most everyone has scampered away with their tails between their legs, the kid stares at pete, and scowls at him, and sneers out a "didn't think i asked, old man."

here's the thing. i don't think pete has any sort of affinity or good hand with kids. he's probably the type to get walked over by most teenagers (exhibit A: macau during canon). but there's a particular category of kid that i think pete would immediately have the upper hand on; surly, prone to anger, snippy, sad underneath all of that. in short, kids who are a mini-vegas 😂

(somewhere not so far away, vegas is crouched in front of his vegetable patch, suddenly feeling very annoyed, and has no idea why 😌)

so pete smiles pleasantly, says "better work on your stance then," picks up his groceries and starts walking away — only for this kid to catch up to him and go "i guess you're good enough, so you might as well teach me."

this post is already long 😅 basically, this kid will not stop pestering pete, and pete somehow ends up training the kid on a daily basis in their backyard, and happens to unleash a lot of life advice that this kid is very desperately in need of (e.g. "knowing how to fight isn't worth anything if you don't know which fights you shouldn't pick"). and he notices some other kids peeking through the fencing watching them, so he sighs a deep sigh and tells them they might as well come in.

some of these kids remind him too much of vegas — or of himself. he finds himself wanting good things for them, wanting to help them be just a little bit happier — which is the kind of help neither he nor vegas received when they were younger.

he ends up being pretty damn good at it.

so pete is giving a bunch of kids a safe space and a healthy outlet for their anger, totally by accident. to answer your question, anon, i guess that makes him a community youth counselor 😂

vegas finds this all kind of bemusing, and is more than a little tilted that pete seems to be attracting all of the little vegases in a 30km radius, but hey! he gets to shovel his cooking into more mouths now! he's totally in denial about how much he enjoys that.

(much later, pete abruptly sits up from where he's resting his head in vegas's lap, and he exclaims, "did i accidentally start a gang???"

vegas considers this for a long moment, shrugs, goes "maybe we should have stayed in the mafia after all.")

[yannig]

Favorite kiss tag game

Rules: create a poll with five of your all time favorite onscreen kisses, setting any standard for qualification you choose. Then tag more friends to join in!

Tagged by @negrowhat, thanks a lot, I always love to play!

I love these games because they force me to have opinions. I did not have favorite kisses starting these. Now I do. Took me a while and a whole evening of re-watching scenes but here we are. I'm probably a bit too ace for this one but I had fun scratching my brain.

Vegas & Pete (KinnPorsche)

This one? Yes, for a few reasons. Because I'm a sucker for a happy ending, for one. Because it's the first time they kiss as equals, also. And because I love this scene as a whole, the way it ties so many things together.

Also hands. I'm a sucker for kisses with hands on faces and napes, and we absolutely get that here.

And bonus Macau, because his inclusion is half of why I love this scene. You cannot have Vegas without Macau and Pete knows and understand that. And because I love this shot so fucking much but couldn't find a gif of the kiss that included it.

Nicky & Joe (The Old Guard)

Is The Old Guard a QL? Nope. But Nicky and Joe were the first that came to my mind when trying to come up with favorite kisses of mine, and it's still queer so.

It's a great kiss punctuating what I consider to be one of the greatest love declarations of cinema as a whole, and also maybe the scene that convinced me to watch the movie. I love it, I love them, and I much as I love that movie as a whole, this is still my favorite scene.

No hands this time because, well, they're handcuffed.

Zo & Joke (Hidden Agenda)

I did not finish Hidden Agenda. I was either bored or cringing, and decided that Joong's smile and the promises of a good kiss were not enough reasons to inflict this show on myself.

But this is the kiss that made me want to watch the show in the first place, so I thought it deserved its place here.

Also: that hand. Perfect.

Sky & Prapai (Love In The Air)

This is the "when you're ready i'll propose to you" kiss. I love it, it's so soft and tender, the lightning is perfect.

Prapai and Sky had quite a few heated kisses, but this one is my favorite for how settled it is. There is no rush, no stress, no urgency; just love and tenderness. They're progressively getting settled into their relationship, getting more secure in their love for each other, and I think this kiss reflects that perfectly.

LITA was also my first Thai BL and the show that actively got me into QLs. I have a lot of affection for these two.

And I love the way Sky is holding Pai's face.

Ai Di & Chen Yi (Kiseki: Dear To Me)

Choosing my favorite kiss for these two was a conundrum. They have so many significant moments! I ended up going for the moment they actually get together.

In part because I love narrative parallels, and the whole scene leading up to this is a replica of interactions they've already had, but going differently, for Chen Yi to show that he's changed, that he sees Ai Di now.

In part because these fucking lights. This show loves vibrant artificial lights for this couple and this is certainly a moment.

In part because once again, I appreciate the dept, the slowness, the time to savor finally getting what you've been waiting for for years.

I just love this kiss.

I don't know who to tag, who hasn't done it already. No pressure tags: @bengiyo, @befuddledcinnamonroll, @heretherebedork, @absolutebl, @bl-bracket

If you haven't been tagged and want to play, take this as a free tag!

[analisegrey]

Another Nightclub AU snippet

Eventually, though, he licks his fingertips and pinches out the wick on the candle, setting it down on the tray to cool before moving back up front again, leaning down to see Pete’s face. “How are we doing, Pet?” Pete’s breathing hard, though it’s starting to slow a little. He turns his head, one eye glinting up at Vegas through the curtain of his hair, and Vegas can just make out the smile again, just as crazed as earlier. “I thought you said this was supposed to hurt, Vegas.”

He has a split second of intense surprise before his eyes narrow, his hand reaching to grab Pete by the hair, roughly yanking up until Pete face is more visible, his neck bent at what has to be an uncomfortable angle. The motion pulls a gasped out cry from Pete, and it makes something in Vegas’s gut thrill a little. “I’m sorry, perhaps I misheard you- what did you say, Pet?” “I said-” Pete tries turning his head further, seemingly heedless of the extra pull on his hair. “That I thought you said it was supposed to hurt.” Pete’s making steady eye contact with him now, eyes bright but clear, and after a second’s consideration, Vegas tightens his grip in Pete’s hair. “What are your safe words- tell them to me now, before we go further.” Pete doesn’t roll his eyes, but Vegas has a feeling it’s a very near thing. “Green for good, yellow for pause, red for hard stop, I know them, Vegas-” “Mmhm. And what color are you now?” “Green! Damnit, Vegas-” He lets himself smile, and it’s not a kind smile. “Just keep those in mind, hm?” Releasing Pete’s hair, Vegas stands and turns on his heel, heading back past the tray and to the cabinets again. He hadn’t intended on doing much more than what they’ve already done, tonight, but apparently Pete is more of a pain slut than either of them had realized. He grabs a few more items from the cabinet and heads back, dropping one of them on the tray, pocketing a few of the others, and holding the third in his hand. He kneels in front of the bench, his smile growing to match Pete’s. “You know, when I saw how sensitive your nipples were last time, I had wanted to try this, but I thought it would be a while before I had the chance. Lucky me, huh?” He briefly holds up the set of connected nipple clamps he’s grabbed, just long enough to see Pete’s eyes widen before he’s crawling under the bench to get at Pete’s chest.

[peachym00]

A crack of thunder interrupted Pete’s thoughts, making him jump out of his skin.

“Fuck me, that was loud,” Pete flinched, his heart nearly beating out of his ribcage.

“Not out here; the pavement will be far too uncomfortable,” Vegas quipped, getting up from the floor and holding out a hand for Pete to take.

“You’re hilarious, you know that,” Pete said sarcastically, holding onto Vegas’s hand, which helped him up with far more force than Pete expected, pulling him straight into his chest.

“So I’ve been told.”

Vegas looked at Pete like he wanted to crack him open and see what was inside. It made him feel good and wanted. Brave.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Pete questioned quietly, not wanting to disturb the charged atmosphere that had built up around them.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about you, Pete,” Vegas says unhurriedly, his eyes gazing all over Pete’s face like he’s searching for something, anything that will give him an answer, “every time I think I’ve figured you out, you do something else to surprise me.”

Vegas brings his hand up to the side of Pete’s cheek, the tips of his fingers grazing it just so, not bearing any weight but somehow burning their mark onto Pete’s skin.  

It was then, as he was wondering what it would be like to feel Vegas’s lips upon his own, that an extraordinarily untimely and out-of-place thought came to mind, blurting out of his mouth as he couldn’t believe he didn’t catch on at the time.

“Oh my god,” Pete exclaims, horrified, “Porsche and Kinn are fucking; they’re one hundred per cent fucking.”

That would explain everything that Pete had been so far confused about. The reason Porsche was so coy about answering questions about working for the main family, the reason he had nothing wrong to say about him. It would also explain the reason why Porsche wasn’t shot onsite for injuring Macau, why out of every single gun pointed at him, Kinn chose to choke Porsche into unconsciousness instead.

“You’ve only just figured it out?” Vegas asks incredulously, dropping his hand from Pete’s face.

“He didn’t tell me anything!” Pete was slightly miffed that he had been interrogated so brutally on life at the minor compound when they could have talked about how Porsche was hooking up with his boss.

Unbelievable.

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now, Pete, about Kinn and Porsche and their sex life?”

“Yes, it is,” Pete says, his thoughts coming to a standstill as he realises the moment he has deprived himself of, the sinking feeling of coming to the realisation that he is his own cock-block, “why, what should I be thinking about?”

Vegas’s gaze darkens, the corners of his mouth turning up into a brilliantly evil smile, the sharp edges of it leaving no room for mercy. They’re still standing close together, yet he tries to bring Pete even closer, their proximity giving him no choice but to rest his hand on Vegas’s chest. His other hand is still enclosed in Vegas’s own, getting increasingly sweaty the more nervous he gets.

“Me,” he whispers, turning his head to the side to speak directly into Pete’s ear, his voice hot and tingly, “You should be thinking about me.”

Pete gulps.

They didn’t cover this in training.

[yujeong]

I remember stumbling upon a couple of comments about Vegas' "You're the most important person in my life" line, saying that it's a bad thing to say because Macau exists and I have thoughts about it.

Pete is the most important person in Vegas' life. He's the man who saved him twice - both from his enemies and from himself - , he's the man who opened his eyes about his father's abuse, he's the man who showed empathy and love to him despite being tortured within an inch of his life by him. Sure, Macau loves him too and without him, Vegas wouldn't have the capability of love at all (shout-out to Lusn's brilliant line in smog lights, it's still stuck in my head) but let's also keep in mind that he's his brother and younger brother at that. He can only offer so much to him, there are limits to what he can do.

People had said the same thing when Vegas was going to commit suicide too.

"What does he mean he has nothing? He has Macau. Why isn't he thinking about him? He's going to leave him alone, that's so cruel"

Well...I have never had suicidal thoughts in my life but I can assume that when a person gets to that point, they're 1. not thinking rationally and 2. not thinking of themselves as valuable. I'm sure if Vegas thought of Macau while pointing the gun to his chin, he'd think he'd be doing Macau a favour by dying.

Back to the original point, the same is true for Pete. Vegas is Pete's most important person in his life too. Vegas unlocked a part of Pete he kept hidden and was in deep denial about, letting him be a person with wants and needs and a voice, instead of background decor in his own life. But fans don't really think about that because Pete never said it and Pete's grandma was only mentioned throughout the show, only having two phone call cameos in which we didn't even hear what she said. What applies to Macau though, applies to her too.

I understand why it sounded off to some people. I think it's the innate belief most people have about family and it being the most important thing in someone's life, everything else coming in second place, including friendships and romantic/sexual partners. I need them to understand though that in the case of VP, it isn't just a sexual/romantic relationship. They're basically soulmates; they were two broken pieces that fit together. They bonded under such hard circumstances and came on top despite everything being against them. One would not be able to live without the other.

And in my honest opinion, I think Macau knows this. There's a reason he's smiling like the cute little gremlin that he is, while watching them kissing, having heard everything Vegas said. He knows Pete is the most important person in Vegas' life and he's extremely happy about it. Someone else finally sees Vegas like he sees him. Someone finally loves him with all his heart, so much so that they left their whole previous life behind for him. Vegas finally has a family that he loves and loves him back, Macau included. And I think that's beautiful.