#easy! patronize the fuck outta them

[birdyverdie]

Just caught one of my mom's party guests yelling at Avalon

I have the patience of a SAINT for not immediately losing it

[honeyshiddendesire]

Pet Name Headcanon List

Smoker x Female Reader - Love

Warnings: Vaginal penetration, praise kink, Strangers meeting in a bar, going back to your place, belly bulge, size kink/difference, mating press, overstimulation, mentions of pussy eating 

*totally got carried away lol but here you go @trxshpandax *

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Smoker watched you on the other side of the bar denying patron after patron that flirted with you and couldn’t help the smirk that started to paint his face. He wondered if you were high maintenance or just super picky, the idea of a challenge that didn’t involve pirates piqued his interest and quickly he found himself smoothly making his way over to you. Sitting beside you calmly without even glancing at you just to see if you’d look first, and being the wise older man he was he was right. Your eyes sneakily taking a peek only to widen as you shyly scanned his physique, face going darker and pupils blowing with obvious desire at the mystery man that sat beside you. 

“Need a drink, love?” Smoker asked, finally turning to look at you with a charming smirk, loving how you couldn’t even form a word and just cutely nodded. Bingo! After a couple drinks you became more open even accidentally spilling how you came to find some fun but no one caught your eye till he came along. It might not be known but Smoker did love pleasing pretty girls like you, so after downing his drink and slamming the glass he leaned toward your ear with a smirk. 

“Tell me love…want to get outta here so I can give you that fun you were looking for.” Smiling all pretty at him he took that as a yes and escorted you out. 

Quickly you made it back to your place and found yourself naked in a second, Smoker, you learned his name was had you taken care of like never before. Pussy slick from round after round of making you cum on his tongue and fingers alone all the while spilling sweet praises to you.

“Dammit love you taste so good, too bad those other guys in the bar couldn’t get their hands on ya.” Smoker grunted as he licked his lips of your essence, your chest rising and falling at a rapid rate as you stared at him with half lidded eyes. Your hands above you from gripping the sheets and he only grinned as he undid the belt of his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his cock that made you gasp. 

He was hung like a fucking horse, thick and veiny, with a length that made your mouth drool but brain panic. He already stretched you with three of his amazingly thick calloused fingers like no one's business but you still wondered if he would even fit. Smoker only worsened your panic as he stroked his cock and laid it on your stomach, the tip barely an inch below your belly button. “Oh don’t you worry love I’ll take it nice and slow for ya.” 

Slowly entering his fat tip causing you to gasp and hiss, nails clawing at his shoulders as he held your legs back and open for him. “Take a breath for me love and just relax. I’ll have you feeling good in no time princess, just you wait.” Smoker’s deep groan made you shiver and unintentionally tighten around him, “Oh fuck love. Careful squeezing me so tight or I won’t take it easy on you.” 

With every slow inch that he pushed inside of you your mind went numb and quickly you found yourself begging for more, “Please! Please Smoker, I can take it!”  Smoker only raised a brow at your begging but he lived to serve, he was a marine after all. So sliding into your cunt with a forceful thrust that knocked the wind out of you he couldn’t help but curse, “Fuck ~ that’s it love. Knew just by looking at you that you could take some dick.” Shaking your head in agreement you only clawed at his broad shoulders more as you felt him deep in your stomach, something no one else has managed to do for you. 

Giving a loud whistle Smoker couldn’t help himself as he placed one of your legs on his shoulder so he could push down on the bulge in your tummy. “Would you look at the love~so far inside ya your stomachs poking out. Damn that’s a good look on you girl.” He couldn’t take waiting after seeing something like that and found his hips moving like they had a mind of their own. Pulling all the way out till your stomach dropped only to slam back in filling you all the way up with a raspy moan leaving him. “Ah fuck love that’s it.” 

“AH! Yesyesyes! Fuck that feels so~ goood~!” Your screams were loud and high pitched making his ego grow by each thrust he gave you.

His cock stretching you so full you found yourself gushing the fastest you ever have, arms falling above your head and he only smirked at the way you gripped the sheets. Each powerful thrust making your tits bounce and he leaned down practically bending you in half so his greedy mouth could lick and swirl around your sensitive nipple. A moan leaves him as he pushes your legs further back to make room for his wide shoulders, mouth never removing from your breast. Licking and sucking marks to remember him bye. 

“O~oh fuck yes! S-Smoker!” You whined as he nipped at your nipple, sucking at your skin till he reached your neck. “What’s up love? You gonna soak my cock again. Such a good pussy taking me all the way. You’re doing so good for me ya know that?” His words made you shiver but a gasp left you as you felt him sneak a hand to your aching clit, whimpers of his name leaving your drool glistened lips. “Go ahead, love I know you want to. Get my cock all nice and wet love so I can keep on fucking you till you pass out.”

[littlemisslol-fic]

Okay anyways varigo makes me fucking deranged and I'm too insane to articulate why properly so here's a long ramble I posted to discord that makes about zero sense unless you're me:

HUGO:

Hugo fucking LOVES that varian is so damn assertive, and unafraid to know/be EXACTLY what varian wants to be. He's so used to wishy washy shit, where EVERYONE has a secret motive and everyones trying to play each other. So to just be allowed to be himself, and to be with varian, is something that's frighteningly new to him and he loves the experience of it. It's having the space in their relationship to work together and build something that neither of them fully know what's going to be the end product, but that's okay, because they'll have built it together.

He loves that varian is SCARY smart, and not really one to hide that fact, but also there's no like... huge ego to it, because that's another thing Hugo's dealt a lot with, is EGO. Like varian will kinda think he's more capable than he is sometimes, but its never out of pure blind egoism, its out of lack of experience. He loves that varian can and WILL stand up for what he thinks is right, that strong moral compass built up from a long time of suffering. It would have been so easy for varian to be bitter, and jaded, but he's not, and Hugo think's its something amazing that varian is willing to help pull hugo of all people, out of the gutter with him. Idk I think hugo's VERY attracted to someone who has a strong sense of self, and an unwillingness to HIDE said self

VARIAN:

Not to be morbid but I think varian kinda... stopped laughing, after the shit with his dad and getting a job and Growing Up (TM) so he still had a few fun times but for the most part no one could really make him like WHOLE SEND laugh his ass of... until Hugo skdfsjkdf like I think that Hugo's sense of dry humor just gets him EVERY TIME and makes him nearly screech with laughter. Even when he's had a rough day, and feels like everything's crumbling, hugo can at least pull a giggle outta him!!!

ALSO I think he likes kinda knowing that under that sassy boy is a soft heart, and knowing that it's something to cherish and take care of is important to varian, like he knows that it's a part of hugo that doesn't get shared often, so to know that he's been trusted with this piece of hugo is something precious to varian.

He likes that hugos willing to let varian fumble, to let him discover how to be in a relationship without judging varian for lack of experience, while also not holding his hand. I think Varian’s used to being kinda talked over/slightllllyyy patronized since all his Corona friends are like a decade older than him. Its not malicious, just the age gap thing showing, but Varian never really gets that from Hugo in terms of their relationship status. Hugo's patient with a lot of things, but never a doormat, and varian appreciates that hugos willing to make it a more even playing field between them.

LONG STORY SHORT:

Varian loves hugo for his patience, and his humor, and his willingness to trust even after all this time.

Hugo loves Varian because Varian is self assured without being egotistical, and because he's genuine in everything he does

I CARE THEM VERY MUCH OKAY BYE

[llycaons]

ep38 (1/3): that which resembles a romance but is in fact a horror short film

lsz is eager to help ofc, but wwx doesn't know who he is yet

wwx asking for jl and the jiang bell matters - his connection to his old home and family. and apparently the jiang bells are powerful? they were more described in the book. I actually forgot they were even in the show since they're barely talked about

THERE SHE IS!!!!!!!! I love a-qing, such a strong personality, her own goals and motivations, curious and intelligent and out for herself and brave. it is shitty to pretend to be disabled, but I'm going to blame the author for that instead of a 16 yr old orphan girl living on the streets. it's not like it doesn't backfire on her anyway

also she's so funny. 'why do men dress nice when they're poor, this is an attack on me specifically'

FIRST MEETING!!! that blindfold is alarming but the blood looks a little pale (fake)

ohh I could swoon. saints and heroes don't really exist in this world, it's too complicated and brutal for them to survive. but xxc was as close as anyone else ever got and I think a-qing knew she'd never meet someone as special as him again

not to say he doesn't have flaws - his naivete is disastrous for all of them and he overlooks her concerns out of a patronizing dismisiveness when he should be respecting her instincts, which helped her survive all her life on the streets. also, it's admirable of him to be nonjudgemental but xy just has odious vibes and it's a tragedy he was so charmed by him that he didn't pick up on that. sort of a xxc jgy situation except xy was fully in love with him or whatever approximates love for him and I still think jgy was mostly using lxc to survive. so another dark foil to wx just as songxiao are a lighter (but still tragic) parallel

anyway he thinks a-qing is funny and is clearly endeared by her, and she clearly likes him a lot despite lying to him. their dynamic has so much chemistry and potential for being great family, it's a shame they're not more popular to write about. this is probably one of the only reasons he's had to smile since he and SL parted ways

smart girl! this guys sounds like bad news, so get outta there

ah! curse the hyperdeveloped senses of a cultivator!

unlike the tragedy of wwx, this could literally have all been avoided if not for a single person - there are many ways to rewrite this and just have them never cross paths. of course, that misses out on the richness of this story and the themes at play, not to mention their significance for the wider narrative, so I don't particularly like yi city fix-its before the fact. but they're definitely easy

christ he's bleeding like craxy. what did they do to him. and why didn't they do it better

of course as soon as he sees xxc he's like FUCK

yeah and if xy lets xxc touch his hand he'll know he's missing his pinky

...not that I like to think about them having a relationship but IF they had sex I wonder how he managed that

god this is so kind 😭 why couldn't it have been wwx that xxc found and they just had a nice little family time (they're cousins or something) for a decade or so before wwx was comfortable enough to leave. MAN

a-qing sleeping in that coffin then hopping out is so cute I love her

it's only been a day and already he looks perfectly groomed clean robes clear skin fully hydrated etc. the man knows how to look good I gotta say

and he starts right off by being a piece of shit to a-qing. I think the siblings dynamic can be really funny but lbr in canon he terrorized her and she hated him for it

I thought this was kind of dumb. like even if she was blind anyone would feel a SWORD. and if he learns she's not really blind, what, xxc is disappointed? I suppose it means he's less careful around her. bc she was able to witness a lot of his crimes bc he wasn't as watchful, assuming she couldn't see (and therefore could never understand what was happening? ableist of him)

a-qing: please don't leave me alone with this scary stranger we picked up by the side of the road, he's really aggressive and he's lying about who he is and I think he's dangerous

xxc: oh you silly girl. he'll be leaving soon *immediately starts flirting with him*

actually xy comes at this with a very specific angle. it's almost like he's emulating wwx - he presents himself as someone hardworking, uncomplaining, and good-hearted despite the hardships he's clearly gone through. of course xxc was taken in

haha no big deal! I'll just casually drop this little fact! it's definitely not something I want you to know about me so you can sympathize with me while admiring how blase I am about it! MAN

on the one hand I can see why xxc is being so open-minded and I appreciate his kindness. on the other hand he IS misled by his own feelings and she is also literally right. she gives him good reasons not to trust him and he's like *pats her on the head* we'll be fine

the head-pats are sweet when coming from adults to their kids (or jyl to wwx) but it just feels patronizing here

literally this is blatant flirting. a-qing off to the side going 😭 he has a crush what I am supposed to do now!!

and THIS??? I was so shocked the first time I saw this I was like THIS is allowed but wwx and lwj can't hug??? huh??? idk the exact specifications of the censorship but in some ways xy/xxc hits you harder with the gay subtext than any other couple including wx which is so wild to me. and also deeply tragic obviously

I think it helps that the writers have a very solid idea of what this relationship is and exactly how each character felt at every moment of it. meanwhile for wx interactions can be very inconsistent and confusing. anyway GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM YOU FREAK

so yeah overall super eerie and frightening to see xxc fall so readily in love with someone you KNOW is cruel and sadistic and lying to him and deceiving him. like this could have been a cute second-love kind of deal with a new family in a new city. fresh start. but then again, no it couldn't have

[breedaboyd]

Cathouse Tragedy ~ Vic Owen

Pairing: Vic Owen ☓ Samuel Adams.

Word Count: 4.1k+

CW: Anal sex, biting, cross-dressing, dom/sub, face-fucking, fisting, oral sex, period-accurate homophobia, period-accurate transphobia, prostitution.

A/N: Title from Voltaire's album, 'Riding a Black Unicorn...'.

The dusty haze hangs low over the town, a fitting backdrop to the weary souls that wander its dirt-ridden streets. The local cathouse, a ramshackle refuge of shadows and whispers, stands as a beacon for those seeking solace in the arms of paid companionship.

Within its dimly-lit confines, the air carries the scent of stale whiskey and sweat, mingling with the soft notes of a mournful piano in the corner. Samuel Adams, garbed in silk and lace, moves with a practiced grace among the patrons. Each step is measured, a dance of survival in a world where debts can cost far more than coin.

John Bishop, a man of cunning eyes and a grip that squeezes hope from the desperate, presides over this domain. Sam owes him a debt, a promise etched in blood, and so he performs this charade night after night.

Sam's gaze follows the entrance of a steady stream of cowboys and drifters, each one a reminder of the compromises made to keep afloat in this unforgiving life. He serves their wants, bearing the weight of their gazes, in this place there's no room for pride.

And then there's Vic Owen. A name that curls Sam's lip in a silent snarl because Vic is the embodiment of everything vile and loathsome. He strides in with an air of entitlement, his spurs jingling a discordant tune against the worn floorboards. His eyes gleam with a predatory hunger and Sam shudders under the weight of that gaze. With that being the case, why is this awful, cruel, disgusting man his favourite customer?

Shame colours his cheeks. Shame and something else he refuses to put a name to because Sam's want for Vic brings chaos and mayhem into his semi-ordered world. His gaze always returns to Vic with every move and gentle smile given. Vic, with his eyes that linger too long on silk and satin. Sam takes a steadying breath, his mind drifting over a myriad of possibilities at every tilt of that predatory grin.

Will Vic seek him out again tonight? God, he hopes so.

The night air is thick with a blend of sweat, whiskey and the distant promise of rain. Inside the cathouse, the atmosphere hums with a strange mix of allure and desperation. Sam — or Sammy to his clientèle — glides from table to table, his practiced smile unassuming and easy on the eyes.

"Evenin', handsome." He purrs, voice dipped in honey, as he leans in to brush a kiss against a grizzled cowboy's cheek. The man grins back, eyes gleaming with a mixture of appreciation and expectation. At another table, a young rancher clinks his glass against Sam's, the sound punctuated by a low chuckle.

Suddenly, the swing of the doors announces the arrival of two newcomers. Their boots echo loudly on the wooden floor. Sam's eyes flicker towards them, his heart sinking as he senses the trouble that they carry in with them.

"We heard they had a tranny slut in this joint." One of them sneers, eyes looking over each of the girls before stopping at Sam. "That must be you, bitch." They swarm him, hands pulling wandering, groping, intruding. The other patrons are quick to turn their gazes back to their drinks, useless bastards. It all happens so quickly.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll teach ya how t'behave like a real lady soon enough." One of them grins. Sam chokes down a scream. Desperately, he squeezes his eyes shut as he's bent over the bar roughly, his nose crushed into the wood. He smells blood and he can already tell his nose is broken. Then, there's a gunshot and Sam squeezes his eyes shut.

"Reckon you gentlemen outta be leavin' 'fore I put the next slug 'tween y'ears." The warning comes with a soft tone, rich with malice. The bruising grip on his shoulders slacken and suddenly Sam's yanked up to his feet by one of the men and, God, Vic's a sight for sore eyes; all dark eyes and sinful, smirking mouth. Sam aches for him. Hates him. But would eagerly present his back for the honour of taking a fuck from him. Just not right now. All he wants to do is leave. Go home and wash off the feeling of unwanted hands on his skin.

"Shouldn't come 'tween a whore an' 'er customers, friend." One of the men says and there's a vicious edge to his words now. Sam notes the tension in Vic's jaw at the use of that word: whore.

"Sure but that there's my whore. An' y'see, I don't much like sharin'. Never learned ta. Now, I suggest you boys take y'leave." He smiles, a wolf baring its teeth. There's the click-click of the hammer pulled back on his Colt. "So get the fuck out." The air pulses with unspoken violence. Sam feels his pulse quicken, like the low hum of a storm heralded by heat. Then, suddenly, the one that grabbed him tosses him away like a ragged toy. Sam hits the ground with a thud.

"C'mon, Joel. Ain't worth it." The other man grabs his companion, dragging him towards the door. Then they leave, cursing their way out.

Vic stands there, watching, until the doors have swung shut before stowing his pistol and turning to Sam. The younger man stares up at him from the floor, hating the heat that coils in his belly at the sight. Slowly, he raises a trembling hand and brushes it against his mangled nose. Hurts something fierce.

He wobbles to his feet as the tempo of the cathouse picks up again, filled with music and cheers. He aches to taste the sweat on Vic's bronzed skin. To bite his chest and taste the tang of his seed on his tongue. Sam's knuckles go white around the shot glass placed before him, mouth dry at the thought. He downs the shot and braces his hands on either side of his nose, clicking it back into place with a pained groan.

"'Thank you, Vic. I'm fine' is what you're s'posed to say, princess. 'I'm forever in y'favour'. Like in the books an' shit, y'know?" His voice curls around Sam like cigar smoke. Yet, all the younger man can do is press a cold rag to his throbbing nose and scowl in Vic's general direction. But he's fine...mostly. Still, the words 'thank you' are lost among thoughts of tangled sheets and half-swallowed moans. Sam hates that look in Vic's eyes, like he knows exactly what the younger man's thinking. Hates that his thoughts always drift back to Vic and his rough, warm hands.

Sam tears himself from the hypnotic draw of that shit-eating grin and fights his way past drunken patrons to his backroom, where he sees his clients. He doesn't think about Vic's strong, sturdy hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. He doesn't think about Vic's burning gaze eating him alive with an intensity that scares him. He doesn't think about laying beneath him, fucked wide open, screaming his name as Vic fills him again and again with his cock. Vic, Vic, Vic.

Instead, he chooses to lose himself in the monotony of undressing, tearing at laces and silk until he's nude. He's not seeing anyone else tonight, damn John Bishop. Sam catches his reflection in the mirror. His face is painted with powder but beneath the paint and the rouge, he can see the ghost of a little boy he once knew, eyes haunted, skin soft. The sight brings bile to his throat. Beneath that is a man, tall and thin and angry at the world. His clothes feel like a prison. There are days where he'd sell his soul for a pair of breeches and a button-down shirt. Anything but satin and lace and cotton.

And then Vic's at his door, just watching him, drinking him in.

"Ain't the striptease half the fun?" He drawls, every bit the predator. Sam watches him in the mirror, eyes wary. Vic ducks inside and shuts the door. It locks with a click. That grin tugs at his lips again as Vic prowls forwards, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Sam's neck. Then, he's kissing him, hard and demanding, shoving his tongue between the younger man's teeth. He tastes like blood and whiskey and cigars. "Y'smell so good, princess. Like honey an' flowers...an' cock." Vic pants against his lips. Sam opens his mouth for him, giving himself over to the sensation of it all. His mind sings with the glorious brutality of it, every nerve aches, every movement setting him on fire. God, this fucking man. If Sam could be his personal slave, he wouldn't bat an eye. "Such a pretty girl for me, ain'tcha?" Vic grins. Sam chokes out a pitiful whine at Vic's words, hating how easily Vic can coax his heart to pound so hard in his chest.

"'M a man, y'sick fuck." He breathes back, words trembling out between shaky exhales. Every scrap of self-preservation is dunked in a vat of molten want at the smug tilt of Vic's lips.

"Then show me."

And suddenly, Sam's on his knees, staring up at Vic, their gazes never breaking as he languidly pulls out his cock. It's a thick, weighty thing, oozing pre, and Sam's never been much of a swallower but all he wants is to sink his mouth onto it. He parts his lips, letting his mouth drool, letting the saliva build up around his tongue. And Vic thrusts in.

Instinctively, Sam gags on the intrusion, coughing around the base of Vic's cock. Immediately, the older man presses his palm to his temple, groaning at the wet warmth of his mouth. The head brushes the back of his throat. His world constricts into the feeling of his body refusing to give up his control. Breathe, Sammy, breathe. He inhales and Vic uses that brief second to his advantage. With a sharp, brutal thrust, he sheaths himself deep inside the tight heat of Sam's throat. The younger man can't suppress the whine that slips out and Vic echoes it, grinning wide and easy.

"Damn, y'must have been hungry, princess. Lookit that thing disappear." He hisses, tone reverent. The pressure in Sam's throat is making him weak and desperate. "That's it, darlin'. Nice an' easy." Vic groans, his voice drenched in an animal pleasure that sets Sam's own cock alight with need. His makeup's smearing across his face, dripping down his cheeks with tears, but neither of them could care less. If Sam had to hazard a guess, he'd reckon Vic likes it this way, likes seeing him debased and filthy. When Sam lets his eyes shut, drool dribbles down his chin. "That's a good, li'l' slut." Vic sighs, his breath coming harder and harder. "Good girl." When he says it, it's a term of endearment. A reward. Sam wants to sob.

Instead, Sam's tongue moves, slipping along the veiny underside and taking in the masculine salt of sweat and pre and everything that's just Vic. The older man doesn't let him up, not until Sam's so light-headed that the world tilts and shifts beneath him. And even then, Vic keeps him close, lets him breathe in the musk at the base of his cock. "Breathe, boy." He huffs out as Sam pants and gasps against him. If there's one thing he knows about the man, it's that Vic takes what he wants and damn the consequences.

And then, Vic's cumming down his throat, shooting deep into the back of Sam's throat, hunching over, growling as he fucks the younger man's face through it all. "Don't ya waste a single Goddamn drop, y'hear? Wanna see you swallow it all, princess." He snarls. Sam obeys. A thread of spit connects Vic's cockhead to Sam's reddened lips as he pulls out. Sam thinks he can hear Vic's grin, broad and cocky and cruel. "Good girl. Open up, let ol' Vic see what a good job y'did." He cups Sam's face, tracing his thumb along the younger man's swollen lips. Obediently, the younger man opens his mouth and presents his tongue, where the pearlescent strings of cum glisten. He waits for Vic's verdict. "God— Fuck, princess. Fuckin' perfect." Those words, spoken with such careless adoration, do more than any seduction could.

Sam leans forward, wrapping a hand around Vic's wrist, eyes shut, as his lips wrap around the older man's thumb. He's sure he looks quite the sight: face stained with tears and make-up, cock hard and leaking against his thigh, lips forming a seal around the digit. He swallows the load, all while paying his dues and lavishing Vic's thumb with attention. Their eyes gleam with want. "Mmmnn... Bet ya'd take anything I'd give ya, wouldn'tcha, darlin'? Precious, li'l' princess slut." He presses his thumb down against Sam's tongue, purring at the submission before drawing his now wet digit away. Vic sucks the cum-soaked digit into his mouth, tongue running over it with a low moan.

Vic pulls Sam up from the floor, nipping at his throat and marking him. The younger man whines, reaching down to stroke himself when Vic slaps his hand away, gaze firm.

"Did I say y'could do that, sweetheart?" He leers. Sam shakes his head, biting back a whimper. Vic bends him over the bed, planting a firm slap on his ass with a wicked grin. Sam bucks in the air, cock dripping onto the blankets. God, the bastard knows just how to push his buttons. Fingers dig into Sam's hair, tugging him back up so Vic can lean in close. "Get on that bed and spread y'self open. Don't wanna hurt ya when I tear that fine ass'a yours apart." Sam scrambles onto the bed, spreading his legs and reaching for the mineral oil on the nightstand, as Vic wanders to the foot of the bed, slowly stripping off his shirt. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, tugging them lower and lower, until they drop to the ground. Then he pulls up a chair, eager for the show.

Sam slicks up his fingers with the oil and begins to spread his hole open, letting out soft, little gasps as he pushes deeper into himself. Vic's gaze is sharp as a knife, lips curved up and slightly parted in enjoyment. "Tha's it, princess. Lemme see my girl get good an' ready to take my cock." Vic grins and Sam feels himself bloom open, feels the slick clench of his inner walls clenching around his fingers. God, this is good. Good girls obey. He's heard that enough to know it's true. Sam is a good girl... Right?

He pushes his fingers right back in, two then three... Three fingers is still barely touching the sides. He's so loose from all the cocks he's taken, the fingers, fists. He's so loose and hot and slutty. "Mhm, that hits the spot, don't it?" Vic presses his thumb to his cock, stroking himself as he watches with a dark, heavy-lidded gaze. Four fingers now, and Sam moans at the delicious feeling of too much, too little, just fucking enough. He's putting on a show for Vic and his steady, approving gaze. Just for Vic. Nobody else.

And then he finds it, that sweet, little bundle of nerves, catching it with his fingertips and making his body flush with heat. He's in so deep, well over the swell of his knuckles, so he can reach it, pinch it, press it. That lovely, little button that just goes so well with the stretch of his hole, with the heavy throb of his cock, so thick between his legs, begging for release. But he can't, not before the older man fucks him first. He doesn't want the heat of Vic's gaze turned into scorn and he doesn't want to be punished because, if Vic punishes him, it means the sex'll be better but damn it'll be painful.

"'M-M so close, Vic. Can I cum? Please, please can I—" Sam doesn't want to make Vic angry, he wants to be a good girl, he wants it so bad. His body arches as he squirms against the bed.

"Nah, open up that pretty, li'l' fuckhole for me, princess." He runs a hand down his cock, ready to go again. Sam's voice cracks with his reply and his cock twitches against his stomach. He pants, reaching down to hook his fingers into his rim, pulling himself open, putting himself on display. His insides are red-raw, slick with the spend of the dozens of men he's seen over the last twenty-four hours. He's a disgusting, little whore, guts pouring out of his destroyed hole. Doesn't matter because he wants to be Vic's personal cumdump and he'll gladly take everything Vic has to give, up to and including his life. If only. "Shit, Sammy... Sweet, lil'l rosebud you got there. How many johns've you seen while you been here? I remember when y'was a virgin, all tight 'n' shy 'n' sweet. How many guys've you taken in that cum-hungry cunt'a yours over the two years we've had ya? Y'remember?"

"Over... O-Over a thousand." He chokes out the number, one he's long since memorised. He has the number in a little, black book in his nightstand; 1,567. Sam's had them all; big men, small men, rich men, poor men, young, old — he takes every cent, every cock, without complaint or hesitation. As long as they have cash because he's a whore. Because, as it turns out, plenty of guys like pretty, young men in panties with smooth chests, doll faces and a hard, slutty cock. And Vic is his favourite out of all of them.

"'S a lotta dicks, ain't it, Sammy? Lotta cum." He pauses, thinking as he pulls his head to the side, still toying with his cock. "Mm. I wonder how many'a them got ta see m'pretty girl cum..." Sam sucks at his bottom lip. And he's got a point. Johns don't give a shit about the whores, don't care for their pleasure. As long as the doll can put on a good sing-song while they're fucking, most of them just don't give a shit. But Vic? Vic makes him cum over and over and over until he's boneless, blissed out and drenched in his own sweat and tears, ears ringing, throat numb. And Vic's still tugging at his cock, licking his lips as he drinks in the sight of Sam's loose, gaping, slutty hole.

"Only you make me cum, Vic. Nobody else."

"Y'want me to make you cum, princess?"

"Please."

Then the tip of his cock pushes against his lax rim, the swollen head breaching him in one brutal thrust. The older man gives him no time to adjust, fucking into him hard, hands curled against his hips. Every thrust has Sam slamming against the headboard, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh deafening in the warm night. Sam can't help but cry out, every thrust hitting his prostate dead-on, tearing him apart.

"That's it, C'mon, darlin', take it. Lemme make ya squirt." He growls, thrusting into the slippery, sloppy clutch of Sam's guts. Desperately, Sam goes for his cock, his shaft aching for stimulation as Vic fucks up his insides. The older man slaps his hand away. "Don't need that, darlin'. Just need m'cock, don'cha?" His voice is saccharine sweet. His words pull Sam under, deep enough he can barely breathe. He's close to suffocating, drowning in heat and bliss. He hates it. Hates how Vic can give him everything he wants and more, while never being enough.

And then the trusts are deep, pounding rhythmically, undoing all that hard word, fucking the guts back into him. Vic wraps a sturdy arm around Sam's waist and props his leg against the headboard and his angle changes. He hammers his hips against Sam's lax body, driving his cock deep inside the younger man's fucked-loose hole with bruising precision. Vic's wetting his lips, sweaty and flushed, grinning and happy as he chases that little death.

His cock throbs insistently inside the tight clench of his princess's sweet, little, used-up cunt.  "Tha's my girl!" He snarls, his body shaking as he fucks into that tight warmth. The older man groans out a litany of half-formed words, the effort of speech long gone from his mind as he grinds deeper, deeper, deeper.

"V-Vic... Oh, God, f-f-fuck— Ngh— Vic! Gonna—" Sam's whines turn to screams as Vic leans down, sinking his teeth into the crook of his neck, breaking skin, tasting blood. The younger man just pants, head spinning with the pain and the heat and the fucking blinding bliss of Vic's cock pushing into him over and over. The older man's teeth are still buried in his neck when they both cum. They're animals; snarling, vicious, starving.

Heat floods Sam's guts and Vic lifts his mouth from Sam's neck with a bitten-back yell, the air thick with blood and sex. Sam can feel the wet slick of cum on his stomach, painting, staining. Vic thrusts lazily a couple of times before going still, buried deep. There's a bloody, toothy smile on his face, eyes filled with the ghost of lust. Sam smiles at the sight, body exhausted, blood smearing across his neck.

He pats a cold hand against Vic's nape, stroking idly as the aftershocks work through them, muscles jumping beneath his skin. He's leaking, a deep, rich crimson. He never feels safer than in Vic's arms, pinned beneath him, unable to move. If Sam could cut his heart out and stuff it in Vic's palm, he would. He fucking hates him but, in his arms, he feels everything at once and he doesn't have to think about tomorrow, about the masks he has to wear, about the lies he has to tell. He never has to think about anything because Vic will always be there.

And that's the greatest joke there is.

"Good girl, Sammy." The older man says softly and the younger man just shuts his eyes and soaks up the praise.

Vic never stays long but he stays longer than most johns, leaving right before dawn, after a final, biting kiss and a promise of 'next time'. Sam wonders if it's just because he and Vic have a mutual taste for rough, filthy, bloody sex. Or maybe Vic's like him deep down, lonely, desperate for physical affection. Sam falls into bed, unable to think straight. Head swimming, legs weak, whole body trembling.

After what feels like an eternity, the haze lifts. He stumbles into the communal washroom. He examines himself in the mirror, throat and neck splattered with dark, bluish-blackish bruises, and the bite mark is an angry, vivid red. The girls avoid him, eyeing him with a mixture of pity and distrust. Sam showers, washes off the grime, the semen, the sweat.

He steps back into his room, stares at himself in the mirror. Then he pulls on a chemise, slides his legs into a fresh pair of hose, re-laces a garter to his thigh, buttons himself up in a crisp, clean skirt, slips his feet into delicate, delicate slippers. Then he applies his war-paint. He dabs his bruised neck with rouge, hides his cheekbones in shadow, draws out his eyelashes with kohl. Each motion becomes a part of him.

When he's done, Sam leaves again, out on the prowl. Lures his prey into the shadows of the cathouse and hikes his skirts up. They'll fuck him but not like Vic does, not nearly as good. They'll fuck him and pay him, not enough to live on but enough to keep food in his belly and booze in his belly. They'll fuck him, john after john, until Sam's bone-tired and numb to his core and he passes out over the bar. Until next time.

In his dreams, it's a fairytale. A shit one but a fairytale nonetheless.

Vic slaps a ring in his palm, pulls him closer and kisses him rough. He'd take Sam out of the cathouse and into his bed. They'd steal kisses in behind the jailhouse, hands pawing at each other's bodies, hot and wanton. Faces close, breaths mingling, mouths seeking kisses, tasting of blood and whiskey and gunsmoke. They'd lay out under the stars and kiss and fuck. He wouldn't have to wear a dress anymore and, when he came, Vic would moan out Samuel. Everybody'd know. They'd be happy.

In his dreams, he's a good, little princess. In his dreams, he doesn't ache so bad. In his dreams, he makes Vic a better man, a man who's honest and loving but still a bit bloodthirsty. He's loved and he's happy and everything is so very good.

But it's only a dream. Maybe he's better for that.