#replies;antonio

[elysiumxii]

cont from here w/ @depayse-flaneuse ft antonio & nia 

As soon as he had the attention of the lovely thing, Antonio’s grin only widens, the frame of his glasses slipping down his high arched Roman nose as he watches her. He can almost sense the inaudible eyerolls of his men beside him - they never saw their boss as animated as when he saw a pretty woman. Like a dog with a wagging tail his excitement was almost palpable. They like this café, the owner was good to them, not everyone in the city treats mafiosos to the best, but here? They got good service! Did Antonio really have to ruin it by chasing skirt?  

The young boss in question’s gaze also shifts from the pretty face, to the woman who took her attention, his lips having parted, ready to quip some line no doubt, before his dark gaze watches her as she moves away. But could a the eldest Benedetti son be so easily dissuaded? Not a chance. 

“Antonio-” he hears grizzly Tommaso by his side, saying his name as a mixture of warning, but also to get his attention. The old-timer more than had enough of Antonio’s games, but it falls on deaf ears. Once that stallion has something, or someone, in his sights he was very difficult to be dissuaded. Instead, seeing it as a game, his grin only widens and he pulls in his feet to sit up. Reaching into his breast pocket he pulls out a full packet of cigarettes and throws them down onto the small round table as he stands. Eyes on the door into the shadows of the café. 

Next his sunglasses, slipped by the arm into the open top buttons of his shirt as his long legs take him towards the door of the café and he stoops a little to step inside. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, tugging the lapels of his blazer to straighten it before he jogs down a few terracotta tiled steps and towards the bar where he’d spotted the slim back of the woman in question. “Do you sell cigarettes?” He calls out, moving towards the bar to lean against it, hand slipping into his trouser pocket to pull out his wallet and a few rolled Euro. 

[elysiumxii]

At the first motion of his father for him to be quiet, Antonio became silent. His head turns away a little, eyes downcast and chin lowered, as the old man moved towards him. His movements are slow and laboured, but that did not make him any less intimidating. Antonio remembers the large, powerful man he had been when he was younger and would look up at him with such adoration... now to hear the disappointment in his scolding tone was like knives.

His eyes wince as Alessandro continues, stabbing at him where he is most vulnerable and though Antonio's fists ball by his sides, he does not even raise his head to defend himself. His father was enraged enough already, he did not want to make it worse with back talk.

"Tulio?" He finally snaps as his head lifts, his father could lament his disappointment in him and his failings, but to praise his cousin with the same breath was too much for his pride to take. "what does Tulio say he will do? Kill her? Is that what you all find so easy? Just like the way you had me kill Salvatore? Take the easy way out and kill... a street thug can kill and that is all Tulio is-!" He lifts a hand to wave over at the door.

"She is not my trophy, she is my plan-" he tries to explain, simmering a little because he was not going to have his father understand with pure anger alone. "She is the only one who knows who the mole is in the FBI... they will kill for that, papa don't you see? They want her dead so bad keeping her alive is the only thing we can do!" He frowns as he looks back at the man he so idolised as a child, begging him to see.

Alessandro watched the tender exchange between a mother and her son with a composed expression, not hinting at how his heart swelled with affection for the two. They were everything to him: his family, his world, which also meant they were his biggest weakness and a danger to his well-being. So, when Antonio spoke to him, his words tumbling out of his mouth like a jumbled mess, the capo dei capi couldn't help but feel disappointed. Antonio was supposed to be the new face of their clan, the pillar of strength everyone looked to, but here in front of him, in private, he was cracking. The ‘Ndrangheta would usurp his son the same day Alessandro retired or died, whichever came first.

The elderly man reclined in his chair, losing interest in Antonio's rambling as he began to question his son's ability to inherit and uphold the organization. Then, without warning, he raised his hand to silence him and said, "If only there was someone who could persuade her to defect, because it's not you, is it? Why else would you bring her here and show the entire family that you are weak and incapable of doing things on your own?" His eyes narrowed to an angry glare, as he stood up from the wicker armchair. Alessandro limped towards his son, his movements slow and stiff due to age and injury, as he pinched his fingers and shook them at Antonio. “That woman has more strength and conviction than you! She gave up her life to become a spy! She married into our family! She fucked our family! Everything she did was to bring us down, and you couldn't kill her even after you killed Salvatore?! Your own flesh and blood!”

Spittle flew from him as he shouted. "Now, you're bringing her here as what? A trophy? No, no, no. That's not how they see it. They see it as a sign of weakness on your part as a member of the 'Ndrangheta and as a man. They say you can't be relied on to follow through on anything and to cast you aside so you can keep playing Casanova around the world! Some are here to make a play for your inheritance, while most are rallying behind Tullio to take your place. What am I supposed to do? What do you expect me to do when they accuse my son of weak character and your cousin already comes up with a plan to deal with your woman?”

[mcmorare]

@m0reno14 sent: maybe i'm not as cool and collected as i put on.

"Yeah, because when I hear people describe you, cool and collected are some of the first words to come up," Katrina says with a tone and expression dripping with sarcasm. "I'm actually really cool and collected too. Super calm." Okay, lay off it. Arms cross loosely, she shifts, taking a short glance around. "What, don't tell me you're going to start meditating or something."

[conduitandconjurer]

@twicecut cotinued from X

--------------------

...shit. Get a grip, Rambo....!

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Klaus stumbles backwards in a circle, like a dazed dog, touching his neck, touching his chest, with violently shaking fingers.

What took him back, just now, to all the times family has lain hands on him and reminded him that trust costs more than love?

But DIego was never one of the real threats. Diego never even used emotional coercion on Klaus; it's why their relationship has withstood so many mistakes and missteps.

Now the shame of ancient history rushes through him worse than the crash that follows an ecstatic high (on snow chased by roofies, that's the one this feels like). He squats and puts his spinning head between his knees. Gradually the ghosts dissipate, dragged by a supernatural current from the sighted world, like bubbles in an IV flush (Klaus would know).

"I'm sorry fer...so much shit. All the times you came to see me when all the others stopped, in rehabm n' I still disappointed you. The Vietnam Vets bar. The.....just. So much shit.. Forget this. I'm just...I dunno. I want you to know I'm more than a lookout...not that that''s why I just now got all...I don't even...know...."

[mismess]

Okay I loooooove ur Chase art first of all!! Secondly, I think about Antonio/El Topo all the time do u have any headcanons??? One of mine is that he was v close with Carmen on VILE Island I have a whole post about it :^]

Thank yooouu !! very kind :-) For Antonio? I do not personally have many, tho I may garner more as I continue the show, I always love when he and Jean-Paul are on screen! He seems sweet tho and he always came off as gentle to me, he just has that kind of face that makes me go "what a sweet young lad" and thus I'll forgive any and all of his evil acts like they never even happened. And I could totally see him being close to Carmen back then! I imagined he was easy to get along with at the academy.

Also I love his :3 mouth. Peak design when characters have a :3 mouth I will have to draw him at some point

[elysiumxii]

As she turns to him, Antonio's smile is broad and charming, slowly sitting up as the waitress makes her way to him and now he has her fully in his sights, all lovely brunette hair and pretty eyes - there was something almost familiar about her face. He can't quite put his finger on it. Still, his smile doesn't falter as he sets his elbow on the table and looks up at her, humming gently as his eyes take a very obvious roam across features, decolletage, chest..

"Have you worked here for long, you seem familiar" he purrs, momentarily worrying that he may have had her before, but no. That he would usually remember. He wasn't that much of a scoundrel. Half of the men around the table currently lamenting at their bosses penchant for women, however, might disagree.

"Do you like wine? You should have a glass with me-" his grin widens, knowing he's being cheeky and very forward. Cafes in Italy usually serve wine, he does so hope they do here as well. "Come on, a deep red, in reward for a busy day no doubt?" The mafioso's head tilts as his cheeky smile remains in place.

Aaralyn had reluctantly taken up a part time job in a local cafe after being caught one too many times lifting wallets. She needed to find a way to make a living a bit more honestly, not that that she was the worse thing out there by any means. It was just how she’d learned to survive for the longest time. So the whole customer service thing when she was the most peopley person out there was becoming difficult. She needed some stress relief and soon. Thankfully she was off in the next five minutes. 

She’d just finished cleaning off one of the outside table and was making a line toward the cafe to clock out when she heard his voice. The accent is what caught her attention the most, it was a bit out of place in New York, but then again there were travelers all the time around here it seemed. She took a moment to take in his appearance, and the first thought looking at the expensive clothes he was wearing that was if she was still stealing he absolutely would have been a target for her. However, she was turning over a new leaf or some shit like that. The second thought was he was absolutely too hot to not be a model or something similar. So why was he at the cafe? 

Aara walked toward him, giving her best attempt at a smile. God dont let him be a deuce, she was running out of fake enthusiasm for the day and it was time to get off the clock. “Hey there. Something I can get you?” 

[seudxnimx]

Continued from here - @the-raven-dhampir

Antonio was with a client when his phone rang but Raven paid better so he answered it, besides the other was cleaning herself up anyways and so he had a moment - but a moment wasn’t even needed with the quick one sided conversation. He truly didn’t think anything of it other than Raven must certainly be in a mood and maybe wanted an easy meal, even if Antonio made him pay a hefty amount for that.

Usually he would let the woman linger around but he made a quick goodbye with her and he has no issue with it or with telling her another client is on his way and he needs a moment himself. Despite the job he has where it’s constant people and appeasing them, its conversation and small talk and acting interested when more often than not he’d rather cut off his own ears but he’s paid well for his time and as his clientele grows so do his prices but Antonio is introverted when it comes down to it and he doesn’t know how far Raven is but he take what time he has to take a hot shower and makes himself a small meal just in case he does want to drink from him. He has a decent amount of time to do all this before Raven comes and when the door is opened it’s not what he’s expecting at all.

Before he can see the blood he sees his face, wrecked in a way Antonio is not used to. Despite being paid by this man for his time and body he has grown to like Raven more than most. His time and conversation and his overall being is something Antonio sees as an enjoyment at times and not just a job but he still wasn’t expecting Raven to come to him like this. It’s only once he has stepped in that he sees the blood and there is a steady look of concern as he grabs hold of Raven and doesn’t mind the blood so much, instead he holds him close and Antonios brows pinch as the other sobs against him. A hand at the back of his head, petting him almost as he nods to the question and hums a melody - Italian floods with it in an attempt to calm Raven down, just enough to get the sobbing to stop so he can figure out the rest, “I’m alone, but what happened, baby?” He doesn’t try and move him far, just in and to the floor and set up against the wall so Antonio can pull back enough and start ridding of his clothing to see the source.

He keeps a soft hum going but it’s nothing that would hold Raven hostage, it’s enough to give him peace though. Just a bit of it compared to whatever turmoil is going on through him, “Will you heal from this? Do you need blood?” Soft knuckles wipe at Ravens tear stained cheek, Antonio is far more worried than he thought he’d ever be about this man but all he can think about is making sure he comes back from whatever happened tonight. Antonio is not vengeful though, he isn’t seeking or wanting to know who did this but he is wanting to know what happened so he can take care of Raven the appropriate way. He doesn’t know all of the Dhampir abilities but something has to help, even if it’s just time.

[pier-carlo-universe]

Assemblea Generale di Unione Industriali Torino: Focus sull’Intelligenza Industriale il 28 Ottobre 2024

Lunedì 28 ottobre 2024, presso il Centro Congressi in via Vela 17, si terrà l’annuale Assemblea Generale dell’Unione Industriali Torino con importanti interventi sul futuro dell’industria.

Lunedì 28 ottobre 2024, presso il Centro Congressi in via Vela 17, si terrà l’annuale Assemblea Generale dell’Unione Industriali Torino con importanti interventi sul futuro dell’industria. Lunedì 28 ottobre 2024, presso il Centro Congressi in via Vela 17, si terrà l’annuale Assemblea Generale dell’Unione Industriali Torino con importanti interventi sul futuro dell’industria. Lunedì 28 ottobre…

[fadinglights]

continued from here, @spicecbinet

ivy  looks  away  as  she  searches  for  the  right  words  to  explain  herself.  it  feels  foolish  to  admit  that  watching  him  interact  with  an  ex  has  gotten  her  jealous,  knowing  that  deep  down  she  doesn’t  want  to  watch  anyone  stay  close  to  him  that  way.  she  cannot  pinpoint  when  she’s  stopped  seeing  him  as  just  a  friend,  but  she  is  aware  of  the  returned  affection  now  and  can’t  keep  her  mind  off  it  even  if  she’s  tried.  “i  just...”  she  trails  off,  uncharacteristically  flustered  as  she  struggles  to  give  him  an  answer  that  doesn’t  embarrass  her.  “i’ve  changed  my  mind.”  she  settles  for  the  non-answer  instead,  glossed  lips  turning  into  a  half-smile  that  almost  looks  too  timid  to  be  hers.  “have  you  changed  yours?”

[tonibeltran]

It’s unfortunate, really, that they’re talking about Elijah at all — not that Antonio thinks they shouldn’t be, because he’d rather not leave that elephant in the room for longer than it needs to be, but there’s a realization happening within him simultaneously that doesn’t sit well at all with the topic of conversation at hand. It more so happens because he finds he and Roman have somehow shifted closer to each other — maybe unconsciously so, after Antonio had leaned in to pick the lint off Rome’s hair — and suddenly no amount of alcohol in the fucking world seems sufficient enough to dull the green of Roman’s eyes. 

He shouldn’t be discounting this conversation so easily — for all intents and purposes, they should be giving Elijah shit. Antonio would be the first to admit his disappearance from their lives fucked him up in unimaginable, nearly-irreparable ways, and maybe they are better off without him, in the long run. Maybe the Elijah Falvey they’d known for two decades died with Harrison Morrey, and what a wasteful death that would be. But even as he wants to follow the thread of this conversation to its conclusion, whatever barrier his bloodstream has so meticulously built out of alcohol and drugs is suddenly vanished, unceremoniously disintegrated by something as simple as Roman Daniels’s fucking eyes.   

Antonio tries to focus on his friend’s words, hoping whatever epiphany happening within him isn’t written plain as day on his expression. He tries to hide his face behind another pull of his whiskey, but there’s only so much left of it, and he ends up having to put it back down before he knows it. Clearing his throat, he nods, knowing full well he’s missed ninety percent of what Roman’s said to him in favor of losing his goddamn mind, apparently. But Christ, he thinks, eyeing the delicate lines of Rome’s jaw — has he always been this pretty?

“I’m surprised I haven’t run into him again,” he admits, catching the tail-end of Rome’s grievances. Volleying insults back and forth — not abnormal by any means, though it used to be all in jest, back in the day. Antonio guesses it makes sense for that dynamic to exacerbate itself the way it apparently has, with enough anger to fuel it. “Not that big a place, Blue Harbor.” He waits for the bartender to refill his whiskey before adding, “So long as he doesn’t step on my toes, I don’t really care to step on his.” 

Does that sound weird? He feels like his tongue is too big for his mouth, suddenly. And is that sweat on his palms? “Fuck,” he mutters out loud, without meaning to. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” he says, because he doesn’t. In fact, a part of him thinks he’d do better to disappear from this moment entirely, but even the hypothetical loss of Roman’s presence feels worse than the cacophony of insanity inside him with Roman in front of him. Fresh air, he thinks suddenly. Fresh air should help. “I need a smoke,” he announces, grabbing at the pack in his jacket pocket. He meets Roman’s gaze, and feels his smile soften stupidly. “Join me?”

That was the difference between Roman and Antonio. It seemed like the latter never let it escalate, whereas Roman let his anger take the helm, to be taunted in response to his own jabs directed at the former keyboardist. There was not an ounce of self control when it came to their exchanges, and he found himself mildly envious that Toni could just hold his tongue. “Well, fuck him.” Roman held up his glass of water to sardonically toast their former friend, but it didn’t seem right, motioning the bartender over and ordering a beer. Less risky than the whiskey.

His lips twitched involuntarily at that thought, of the accidental rhyme.

“From the sounds of it, he’s dragged her into their fucking avalanche of shit to wade through. I’d almost feel sorry for her, but her family could afford to buy their own fucking town if they wanted,” Roman muttered, recalling what Nilay had told him when she confronted him, the accompanying scoff a reflex at this point, recounting the information he found when he had searched about the hotel and her family. “So she could easily buy a new Eli. I fucking would, but he must be happy in his cosy little ivory tower.” Maybe that was why he picked her after all.  Someone rich who could fight his battles and kiss his wounds better for him.

But soon, his thoughts were rid of Eli altogether. Antonio reached out to brush through Roman’s hair and he simply froze in place — though the touch was far from unwelcome, even leaning in towards Toni as an invitation of sorts. The whole exchange took about five seconds but in the bassist’s head it was a dragged out exchange, breathing feeling heavy and scalp feeling like it had been set alight. “Hm?” His focus was on Toni’s finger and thumb flicking away what looked like a speck of lint or dust, and he was soon inspecting his friend’s hands; admiring that they seemed strong and warm, and probably had good reflexes what with his continued playing…

The question registered, and Roman’s entire being soured at the thought of Eli interrupting his tipsy thoughts. “We haven’t said much to each other except volley insults back and forth.” He then admitted, seeing no point in painting himself as the victim to Toni. He knew Roman too well. “But it’s clear where he fucking stands mate, and honestly fuck him.” He took a sip of his pint. “We’re better off without him.”

[covenofagatha]

can you do something like a mafia au where Agatha is a mob boss and reader is her girlfriend and Agatha is in her office working and reader comes in saying that she misses her and things slowly escalate... ?🙏🏼thank you so much if you do

I had to do so much research about the mafia lol

Taking care of business

Word count: 3000

Warnings: public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, strap-ons, degradation, praise, mentions of illegal activity and (implied?) murder, slight cockwarming, mommy kink

“Knock knock,” you say lamely, walking into the back of the pizza shop your girlfriend, Agatha, owned. 

She’s sitting at a desk, right finger between her teeth, while she scribbles down notes in her book. She glances up and raises an eyebrow delightfully when she sees it’s you. The man at the door nods and lets you in. 

“What are you doing here, hot stuff?” Agatha asks as she leans back in her chair and watches you walk over. You perch against her desk and eye the bodyguard and the two goons that work for her in the corner of the room. 

Agatha Harkness is the leader of the Harkness family mafia, inherited from her dad, Vincenzo Harkness. The pizza shop, The Dough Don, is a cover for their illegal activities and a front for money laundering. 

You had first met Agatha when you had first moved to New York City, looking for a fresh start at the ripe age of 23, and you had wandered into the first pizza restaurant you could find. 

There had been no one else in there except for the dark-haired beauty and a pack of four men. They had been huddled around a table in the back, their hushed voices barely carrying throughout the building. 

When you had walked in and the bell rang on the door, they jumped up and scrambled to put whatever they were working on away. You hadn’t thought too much about it, had been too hungry to care, but the pizza was really good so you had kept coming back. 

Each time though, there was no other customer inside, just Agatha and a few workers. 

After a while, you had worked up the courage to ask why you were the only one who ever seemed to be here. 

“This isn’t a real restaurant,” Agatha had told you conspiratorially, eyes twinkling. “I’m a mob boss and this is our cover.” 

You had laughed. “Then why is the pizza so good?” 

“Our associates just happen to be good cooks, among other things,” she had said with a shrug. 

But you had never imagined that she was serious. 

Things did start to change after that, though. You would walk in and ask how the mafia business was treating her, if they had extorted or blackmailed anyone lately. She always smirked back, winked, and made a witty comment, like she was pleased that you were playing along. It seemed like she was seeing you in a whole different light for the first time. 

But she wasn’t the only one who noticed you. 

One of the cooks started to take a liking to you. One day, you were enjoying your pizza alone as usual when he walked up and introduced himself. His name was Antonio, but you could call him Tony, and he had a thick New York accent. He had slid into the booth right next to you, one arm stretching around it behind you, his other hand drumming on the table. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by yourself? Surely you’ve got yourself a handsome fella by now,” he had said, trying to make his voice all smooth. 

Before you could reply and tell him that you weren’t actually into ‘fellas’ at all, a knife shot down in between his fingers and into the table. You let out a little scream and Tony jumped. 

It was Agatha holding the blade. 

“Shut your tongue before I cut it out,” she hissed, a completely different tone in her voice, and you started to think that maybe she wasn’t joking about everything. Tony, white from fear, got up and quickly scampered out of sight. You swallowed hard as Agatha’s glare had turned to you and she motioned for you to come to the back with her. 

That was the first time she had fucked you, just bent you over against her desk and took what she want, with you all too willing to give it to her. 

You hadn’t seen Tony since, but you learned early on to not ask questions you didn't want the answers to, especially around Agatha, who was actually, in fact, a mafia boss. 

And now you’re seven months into a relationship with her and she would still constantly tease you about not believing her. 

“Sorry I didn’t want to believe someone as hot as you was capable of murder,” you would mutter while entangled in her body after sex and she would toss her head back and laugh. 

“Oh, hon, I’m not the one killing people. That’s what I have the Soldatos for.” She had taught you all the positions in the mafia: she was the Don, the boss, and she had her Consigliere, the advisor, the Underboss, the second-in-command, the Capos, who oversaw the Soldatos, the soldiers required to carry out the violent acts (you wonder if she had sent them after Tony), and the Associates, who weren’t necessarily part of the family yet, but still helped out. 

It was a lot to remember, and one time, she had eaten you out while she made you recite all the members of her crime family. 

You were a liability, sure, but Agatha loved you and would protect you no matter what. And you knew that, as long as you stayed on her good side, you’d be alright. 

It was tricky business to get wrapped up like this with a notorious mafia boss, but you didn’t care. 

You’re happier than you've ever been in your life.

And maybe, just maybe, not that you would ever admit it out loud, you like when she tells you about the dangerous stuff she’s up to. When she comes to your apartment after work and, with a glint in her eye, tells you about the drugs she trafficked into the city and the money laundering and how she ordered one of her Soldatos to scare a loose cannon. 

It almost always ended up with you on her lap and her fingers buried in your wet and needy cunt. 

But one of the other crime families in New York, the Vidal Family, was making major moves, and Agatha was stressed. She didn’t tell you outright, but you could see it in her clenched jaw and faraway look in her eyes. 

She didn’t get home as early as she used to, and when she was there, she spent a lot of time drinking. 

And you started to miss her. 

So you decided to pay her a visit at work, just to spend some time with her. You didn’t care if she made you sit on the floor at her feet as long as you were next to her. 

“Thought I’d come see you,” you say quietly, fingers reaching but pausing an inch away from her hand holding the pen. She spins in her chair so she’s able to get a better look at you. Her eyes rake up and down your body. You put on a short black skirt and purple crop top, hoping for this exact reaction. 

“Oh yeah?” Agatha hums. 

You nod and begin to stroke your fingertips up and down her forearm. She’s wearing a pinstripe suit but the sleeves of her blazer are rolled up to her elbows. “I’ve been missing you,” you pout, trying to make your voice sound as small as possible. 

She smirks. “So my baby girl thought she’d come visit Mommy at work so she could get what she’s been wanting, hm?” 

You blush, shrugging noncommittally, and your eyes drop to the ground, feeling a little embarrassed with the three other men in the room pretending not to hear. 

Agatha reaches a hand up to grip your chin and tilt it roughly so you’re looking at her. “Tell me what you want, hon. Use your words like a good girl.” 

One thing you had noticed about her was how much she liked the fact that you were “good.” You weren’t involved in any shady business, other than her, and you hadn’t done as much as smoke a cigarette. It seemed to turn her on, almost as much as the fact that she had her hands dirty turned you on. 

There was no denying you two made a good pair. 

Hesitantly, you glance around to the other people and she smirks. “What’s wrong, baby? Don’t want Gio, Sal, and Emilio to know how desperate you are for me?” You bite your lip, shaking your head. She leans in closer. “Don’t worry. They know better than to pay attention to us. Now, tell me, what do you want?” 

You take a shaky breath as her fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to fuck me,” you say and she smiles like she’s a cat that got the cream. 

“Right here? In front of them?” She asks. “Are you that desperate for me that you need me right now?” 

Before you met her, you would’ve never even considered it. 

But Agatha has changed you in so many ways. So you throw caution to the wind. 

“Yes,” you say and before you can add anything else, she shoots up out of her chair, grabs the backs of your thighs, and lifts you up so you’re sitting on her desk. A thrill runs through you and you gasp. 

Her hands hike up your skirt and her fingers rub your slit over your lacy underwear and she chuckles deeply. 

“You really need this, don’t you? You’re dripping,” she taunts and you weakly move your hips against her to try and get her to touch your clit. 

“Fuck,” a man’s voice whispers from the corner and both of your heads whip to the side to see both of the Soldatos staring at you. You blanch at him ogling you and Agatha so obviously and the one on the right clamps his hand over his mouth. 

“Boys, if you don’t want this to be the last thing you ever see, I would suggest turning around,” Agatha warns cooly, the threat obvious in her voice, and they instantly obey. That only makes you ache more for her, the way she just takes control like that, the way that she is so powerful no one has a choice but to do as she says. 

Power exudes from her, and you have her wrapped around your fingers. 

Well, not yet, at least. 

Agatha turns back to you, giving you a wicked grin. “Now that that’s settled, where were we?” Her hand finds its way back to your clothed pussy before you can make a smart retort, shutting you up. Your head falls back and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, but she tugs your bottom lip out from your teeth with a thumb. “I want to hear you.” 

“But–” 

She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about them, hon. Focus on me.” And then she finally slides your underwear to the side and collects your wetness from your leaking hole and swirls it around your clit. You whimper louder this time, and she nods, seemingly satisfied. 

You begin to get more needy, the stimulation to your clit not enough, and you start grinding when she moves her fingers down to get them inside. 

Agatha knows what you want and puts her lips right next to your ear. “Beg for it, baby girl. Let them hear how desperate you are for me.” 

“Mommy, please, I need you to fuck me,” you say immediately, aching too much to care anymore. She chuckles and slides one finger into you, your walls clenching down on it. She curls it roughly and you gasp loudly. 

“Show them how good Mommy is fucking you right now,” she demands, fitting another finger into you and you groan. You can see how stiff the guys in the corner have become, and you can’t see the bodyguard behind you at the door, but you imagine he’s in a similar position. 

You don’t know why having them in the same room as you while Agatha is pounding into you with her fingers is making you more wet, but it is. 

Her thumb comes up to swipe at your clit and you whine, needing more than that. You roll your hips to meet every thrust and you can feel yourself getting closer when Agatha starts sucking harshly on your neck. 

Noises are falling out of your mouth left and right and you’re climbing closer, feeling so good because it’s been so long since she’s touched you, when all of a sudden, someone clears their throat behind you. 

Agatha sighs against your skin and you jerk around, trying to close your legs, but your girlfriend holds them open and lazily fucks you, slowing down her pace. 

The bodyguard has moved to block the person from view, but Agatha tells Gio to step aside. You recognize the interrupter to be Wanda Maximoff, the Consigliere. 

You don’t think you could blush any more when she begins to walk over to the desk, Agatha’s fingers still inside you, every thrust making a squelching sound. 

Wanda drops three black notebooks onto the desk, about a foot from your ass. It’s like she doesn’t even see you. 

“We need to go through some things, make sure the bookkeeper has been on it,” Wanda says disinterestedly. Agatha rolls her eyes and twists her fingers particularly rough and you can’t help but moan. Both women ignore you. 

“I swear, if Marco messed something up,” Agatha grumbles and pulls out of you, making you whine. You stare at her with wide eyes, pleading to not leave you hanging like that. She gently pats your face with her wet hand. “Don’t worry, doll, I didn’t forget about you. No, Mommy’s got something else for you.” 

You hear Wanda snicker behind you and you’re too humiliated to turn around. And yet, when you stand up, you can feel how slick you are on your inner thighs. Agatha sits down in her chair, unzips her pants, and you lose the ability to breathe when she pulls out your favorite purple strap-on. 

You forget that anyone else is in the room. 

“Come sit on Mommy while she works,” Agatha says, stroking the hand that was inside you up and down the length a few times. She doesn’t have to tell you twice, you straddle her lap and sink down on her, whimpering at the stretch while you put your arms around her neck. “Good girl. Now hold still,” she whispers to you and scooches the chair back to the desk so she can grab a hold of the books. You feel so full just having her in you like this, and the urge to move is almost overpowering. 

But you’re not going to break her rule. So you hold still, like the good girl that you are. 

Wanda begins to talk about numbers and inputs and outputs, but you don’t have an ounce of focus to actually listen. Each time Agatha leans forward to see what the Consigliere is talking about or to sign something, the toy shifts inside you and you have to gasp. Eventually, you get so worked up that you begin to roll your hips ever the slightest. Your muffled moans get louder and you’re just trying to grind enough so that your clit can get the pressure it so desperately needs. 

“Give me one second, Wanda,” Agatha remarks, finally making eye contact with you. “I have a desperate little slut I need to take care of.” 

Hearing her degrade you like that, like you’re not writhing around in her lap for everyone to see, makes your walls flutter around the toy. 

Agatha’s hand comes around your throat to gently squeeze and she puts her lips against your ear. “Take whatever you need, and don’t even dream of being quiet.” 

Given permission, you slowly lift yourself up her cock and drop back down once you get to the tip. The slow drag of her against your grooves makes your head drop back with a loud moan. 

“What were you saying?” Agatha asks, having taken care of the minor inconvenience. Wanda launches back into talking about the books, but you can’t hear her over your as you begin bouncing faster in Agatha’s lap. One hand comes down to rub at your clit furiously, the tightening in your body coming back in no time. 

“You know, that’s quite a pretty girl you’ve got there,” Wanda remarks and it takes you a minute to realize that she’s talking about you. Agatha smirks, looking appreciatively at you riding her. You can’t see Wanda’s face but you imagine she’s wearing a similar expression. 

You don’t hate the image as much as you thought you would. 

In fact, it only makes you try harder to show off, rolling your hips when you get to the bottom so you force Agatha’s tip deep against the spot where you so desperately need it. Your finger circles your clit so hard that it almost hurts but it’s so good. 

“She is such a perfect whore for me, isn’t she?” Agatha agrees fondly, and you preen, the praise making you tighten up even more around her. You can tell you’re getting closer, so close you can taste it. 

“Look at her, about to cum all over your cock in front of me,” Wanda says, and for some reason, that’s what does it. 

You let out a long whine as your orgasm explodes over you and you continue shakily fucking yourself on Agatha as the two women laugh at you. 

Agatha brushes a piece of your hair off your sweaty forehead while you breathe hard from the exertion. “Did you get what you wanted?” 

You nod, too worn out to answer. 

“If you can be a good girl for real this time, and you behave for the rest of this meeting, I promise you’ll get a reward,” Agatha says, raising an eyebrow promisingly. “Sounds good?” 

“Yes, Mommy. You’re the boss,” you say, voice trembling, and she looks positively delighted to hear you call her that. She gives you a playful thrust that makes you keen. 

“Yes I am.” 

[sophrosynesworld]

Summer Softness

Katsuki’s always had that fierce, protective streak—everyone knows it. But what happens when the paparazzi go too far?

The gala is… unexpectedly pleasant. The air inside is filled with low, refined chatter, the clink of glasses, and the soft melodies of classical music drifting through the space. For a while, it’s easy to forget about the pressures outside.

Katsuki seems more relaxed than usual, in his own way. He’s never fully off duty—there’s always an edge to him—but tonight, he’s actually engaged in the conversation, smiling down at me as we move from one painting to the next. His crimson eyes scan the pieces before he offers a comment about the colors or techniques, terms he’s learned from watching me paint in our living room.

"I’ll be right back," Katsuki murmurs, his soft lips brushing against my ear as his hand rests gently on my waist. I hum in acknowledgment, leaning into his chest and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. As he steps away, I wander toward another sculpture, drawn in by the intricate twists of her hair, each curve and detail mesmerizing.

I glance down at the plaque beneath it.

Antonio Mardie, Summer Softness.

I step closer to the sculpture, tracing the air just above her delicate features, careful not to touch. The marble feels alive under the gallery’s soft lighting, shadows dancing over her form as if she might move at any moment.

"Beautiful, isn’t she?" A quiet voice pulls me from my thoughts. An older man, dressed in a dark coat, stands beside me, his eyes fixed on the sculpture. His expression is curious, like someone who’s seen countless works of art and yet still finds wonder in them.

I nod, glancing at him. “Yeah… I think she’s waiting for someone.”

He smiles faintly, a knowing look in his eyes. “Antonio Mardie was known for capturing fleeting moments—the softness of summer love, the quiet before a storm. It’s said this piece was inspired by a lost love, the woman he could never quite forget.”

I would go crazy without him too.

“It’s amazing,” I say softly. “Did he ever show it to her?”

“No.” The man’s voice is soft, eyes fixed on the sculpture as though lost in his own memories. “She died before it was finished… cancer.” He pauses, his voice faltering slightly before he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, unsure if I’m apologizing for his loss or simply for prying too much.

He nods, a faint, melancholic smile gracing his lips. “It’s all right. She’s here, in a way.” He taps the plaque lightly, the metal clinking softly under his touch. “I like to think she’d be proud.”

I smile back. “I’m sure she would be.”

As the man turns and drifts back into the crowd, I feel that familiar sensation of being watched. Scanning the room, my eyes catch on a figure with platinum hair, sitting at the bar and sipping his drink. Katsuki’s gaze is locked onto me, as if he’s been waiting the entire time.

“You’re staring,” I tease. Katsuki's eyes track my every movement, but he doesn’t respond immediately, just extends a glass of wine as I reach him.

“Couldn’t help it,” he replies, his voice low. “You were stealing the spotlight.”

I chuckle softly, accepting the wine, brushing my fingers against his. “I guess I just found something worth looking at.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he leans back against the bar. "Me too.”

I take a sip of the wine, letting its warmth wash over me, and smile at him, feeling a little lighter.

The night flows like that, with a steady rhythm of quiet moments and his sharp, witty remarks keeping things light. Katsuki's hand rests on the small of my back, guiding us toward the entrance. We finally step outside, the colder winter weather enveloping us, and the next thing I know, they’re on us—paparazzi swarming from every direction. The blinding lights, the rapid clicking of cameras, and the overwhelming noise—it’s all too much. I blink, trying to make sense of it when suddenly, someone shoves past me. Hard.

My breath catches in my throat as I stumble forward, feet catching on the concrete. My heart stops in that split second—until a strong arm wraps around me, pulling me upright. It’s Katsuki who catches me mid-fall, his grip firm but careful, instantly shifting me behind him like the first time we met.

The second he pushes me behind his back, I feel his whole body tense. He’s furious—I can see it in the tightness of his jaw, the fire burning in his eyes. Katsuki’s glare cuts through the crowd, searing into the faces of the people around us. The once-shouting paparazzi shrink back, their aggressive pursuit turning hesitant under his gaze. My arms wrap around his waist, attempting to calm him, but it’s pointless.

His voice is low, a growl barely restrained. “Who the hell touched her?”

No one dares respond. The air around us feels heavy, almost crackling with his anger. He takes a step forward, towering over them.

“I said, who did it? Step forward, or I swear to god, I’ll give you something to report about.”

The crowd of photographers seems to freeze, like they’re deciding whether getting the next big story is worth Dynamight’s wrath. There’s a moment of eerie silence, then a few of them start backing away, realizing that whatever shot they were hoping for isn’t worth the risk.

He turns back to me, his crimson eyes searching my face with a sharp, almost frantic focus. His hands lift to rest on the sides of my face, and despite everything, his touch is gentle, almost delicate.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice rough but quieter now.

I nod, even though my heart’s still racing, the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good,” he mutters, his jaw still clenched, though his grip loosens slightly. "If anyone tries something like that again, I’ll handle it.” He glances back at the remaining paparazzi, eyes narrowing into slits. “I'll fucking kill you. Put that on the record.”

With that, he guides me forward, his arm firmly around my waist, shielding me from any more intrusions. As we walk away from the crowd, I glance up at him, noticing the way he stays on high alert, even as the commotion begins to die down.

“Thanks, katsuki,” I whisper, but he just grunts in response, his eyes still scanning for any threats. But in this moment, walking beside him, I don’t mind the danger. Because I know, without a doubt, that he’s got me.

Author's note: I was giggling and kicking my feet this entire chapter. We are so back baby.

[themultifandomgal]

Could you do an established relationship jay halstead x petite reader? She’s in the fbi, has a PhD, and is quite young. (She’s like 25-27) She’s shy and pretty innocent. Jay introduces her to the unit. When they meet her they don’t see how she’s an fbi agent. Then the fbi takes over a scene and she’s a total badass. Jay is proud and he’s like that’s my girl.

Jay Halstead- My Girl

I absolutely loved this idea! I had so much fun writing this one. I hope you enjoy!

No one knew about Jays girlfriend, in fact everyone thought he was single. So when Jay arrived at Molly’s with a petite woman on his arm, everyone was shocked to say the least, even more so when Will gave her a hug and the pair looked like they have known each other for a while. The noise of conversation and clinking of glasses filled the air as they made their way to a table in the corner. It was a Friday night, a rare occasion for Jay and his colleagues to be out all together.

As they sat down, Erin, his partner, was the first of Jays coworkers to greet the couple

“Im so happy you could come. Who is this lovely lady, Jay?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

Jay smiled proudly and replied, "This is YN. My girlfriend. She works for the FBI." YN, who was naturally shy and reserved, gave a polite nod but said nothing. Erin's eyes widened in surprise, she looks over to Jay shock written all over her face

“Oh wow you’ve kept her quiet Jay” Jay just shrugs in response.

Through the evening the drinks flow, but YN continues to stay quiet, just observing the space around her

“So FBI huh? You seem too quiet and innocent for that line of work”

YN simply smiled and shrugged, used to this reaction from people who underestimated her based on her demeanor. She was well aware of her ability to blend in and appear unassuming, a skill that served her well in her line of work. She knew that her quiet nature was one of her greatest assets, allowing her observer others and gather crucial information for her cases. As the night went on YN and Jay finished up the evening and headed off back home.

YN sat in her car, staring at the building in front of her. It’s been 2 weeks since she met Jays coworkers and now she’s been asked to help the intelligence unit with a tough case. She steps out of the car and strode confidently towards the entrance, her gun hidden securely in its holster.

As she entered the building, she was greeted by the sight of her boyfriend Jay and his boss Voight, both standing in the lobby, waiting for her

“YN thank you so much for coming” Voight says holding out his hand. Immediately YN takes his hand in hers, shaking his hand

“No problem, happy to help”

“Please follow us” Voight takes YN to the bullpen where the rest of their coworkers are standing around a bulletin board

“You all remember YN” Jay says first

“She’s joining us on this case” voight tells everyone who greets the girl

“So what do you know so far?” YN says getting straight into the case

“We know that Doms father owned a huge farm down state. When she died Dom inherited 30 million” Antonio hands over the case file to YN who takes a look at all the information at hand “he took out 10 million 2 days before he went missing” YN looks up at the team

“Did anyone actually see him though?”

“Taking the money out?” Jay asks

“At all”

“What are you saying?” Erin frowns

“I dont think he’s missing. Did you get the autopsy report on the mum?”

“No, she died of natural causes” Antonio crosses his arms

“Are you positive on that? I want to see an autopsy report somethings just not adding up”

unwavering, her determination driving her to catch the criminal at any cost.

YN got what she needed, the autopsy report showed that Doms mum did not die of natural causes, in fact she was poisoned slowly over time. YNs theory of dom not being missing made him their first suspect.

As they neared the location where Dom was believed to be hiding, YN's instincts kicked in. With a nod to Jay, she signaled that it was time to make their move.

They burst into the building, guns drawn. YN's training kicked in

“On the floor, now!” YN shouts pointing her gun at Dom “keep your hands where we can see them”

In a matter of moments, Dom was apprehended. Jay and the rest of his team watch the girl they once thought of as quiet become this confident woman. Jay watches on, feeling a sense of pride and love. That’s his girl who he’s extremely proud of.

[seudxnimx]

Continued from here - @the-raven-dhampir

His job came with many perks… some given, most taken. It was an habit he had early on and not being all that far in his career, it was not broken and was just part of his survival. He also saw it and being owed to him and sometimes, he just couldn’t help himself.

Raven wasn’t safe from Antonio’s thievery, it was a small rush in a way that wasn’t dangerous for him. If anything it was a calm excitement that rushed through him each and every time he stole something - and Raven had expensive and beautiful things. Antonio has stolen articles of clothing, trimmed and made them his own and wore them again. Sometimes even in front of Raven. Shameless, but Antonio didn’t exactly care and he hadn’t been caught yet either.

Until now, the threat doesn’t feel empty and it’s not the first time Antonio has had a knife drawn on him. It really wouldn’t be the first time he was stabbed - his siren blood healed him nicely though. Although, Raven seems to want to make it fatal. So, Antonio narrows his eyes, Raven is different, he’s been paying Antonio for months upon months now and he wasn’t a stranger as much as others were. Nude as when they laid down, he steps closer, pulling the elegant ring off his finger and holding it in his fist while his other hand grabs Ravens wrist and brings the knife to Antonio’s throat, a soft hum leaving his lips. His siren song is nothing strong being a hybrid, it’s enough to calm a mortal, a human, it’s enough to draw them in but to Raven… it’s just a sound.

“Over a ring… Hm?” Antonio tilts his head a bit just to press his own skin against the blade of Ravens knife, “Is it your wife’s?” Married, widowed, neither are new to him but it would be new information about this man, this creature, his hand with the ring opens and he offers it back to Raven. One rings wasn’t worth his life, not even close. His hand had dropped from Ravens wrists once the knife was against his throat, it had been at Antonio’s side until Raven has the ring back and it simply runs down the others chest. “Hungry?” Willing to put it easily behind them, offering more of himself if Raven would bite - literally or not, was up to him. It wouldn’t be the last time Antonio steals from him, but he would at least leave the ring alone in the future.

[tanadrin]

I liked this video from Jamelle Bouie a lot, and I liked it even more because he delivered it as a floating eyes and mouth over an apple.

I'm going to respond to this comment as an apple because I kind of like doing it. It's fun. And I'm gonna respond to this comment by way of a story.

So, all Americans know about the anti-slavery movement, the abolitionist movement. And the way we're taught about the abolitionist movement or the anti-slavery movement, whatever you want to call it, is kind of that this was inevitable--that obviously slavery is terrible and obviously there are people against it and it was gonna end. We teach it as a thing that was bound to happen. So the Civil War comes and slavery is ended, and it's sort of a very neat story.

But I'm gonna ask you to put yourself in the perspective of an abolitionist or an anti-slavery politician in, say, 1840 or 1848; and if you are one of these people, you have a deep-seated opposition to slavery. If you're an abolitionist, you may have spent the previous 10 or 20 years traveling the country, giving speeches, rallying people, doing everything you can to stir up moral outrage at slavery. If you're a politician, you have been working, doing a grind of politics--somewhat dangerous, because people may not like slavery, but they're not super thrilled about black people either--but you are in legislatures, you are filing petitions, you are building coalitions, you are trying to make whatever headway you can to, if not challenge slavery, then at least challenge some of the racist and anti-black laws that are on the books. Both--whether you're an anti-slavery politician or ablitionist--you do not think in 1848 that slavery is gonna be over in your lifetime. You hope that it might be; but you have no particular expectation that it will be. You are not optimistic about the end of slavery. You may not even be optimistic about the world as it exists, because you look around and you see human bondage and horrible brutality that's been there for hundreds of years, and for all you know will be there when you're long dead.

So the question to ask is, why do these things? Why did these people bother? Why did they continue struggling against slavery, despite not really having any optimism about the end of the institution? And the answer--beyond a deep-seated sense of moral commitment--is that these people didn't need to be optimistic in the ultimate outcome, they just needed to be optimistic in the ability of humans, of people to make change; they needed to be hopeful about human agency. That's what they needed, and that's what they had. And so they did not know how far they would be able to take the baton, but they worked and hoped that when the end of their lives came, they'd be able to hand it off to people who could take it even further than they could.

The abolitionists and the anti-slavery politicians were essentially living out what Antonio Gramsci called the pessimism of the intellect and the optimism of the will. I think the exact quote is, "I'm a pessimist because of my intelligence, but I am an optimist because of my will." What this is is recognizing the reality of the world around you, not looking at the world as if it's any better--or any worse--but any better than it is; but not pinning your hopes for a better world on some sort of linear change, linear move towards something better; but pinning your hopes on one of the true constants of human society, which is the ability of human beings to work their will on the world, and the ability of humans to push and persevere.

So, this is all to say that I am not asking anyone to be optimistic about the world. That's very silly; the world's a very terrible place right now--not the worst it could be, but pretty bad--and I do not contest that. But I do think that people should have a bit of this optimism of the will, and this optimism about human agency, and our ability to build a better world. And this is sort of where my very strong distaste for doomerism comes from, because the sense that it is the worst, and nothing can be better, is just fundamentally incompatible with any kind of optimism of the will, any kind of belief in human agency and belief in our ability to change the world around us. And it's also why you will find me on this account often pushing back against the most negative renderings of what is happening in our society, for example. Not because I think everything is great--I do not--but because I do think that the path towards change requires one to have clear eyes about the situation in which you find yourself; and clear eyes both means recognizing the bad, but it also means recognizing those areas where you can make gains, and where you can find success; and where you can win minor victories.

And you may say, well, what's the point of a minor victory? But I think what the anti-slavery struggle demonstrates, what the civil rights struggle demonstrates, what the labor struggle demonstrates in this country, is that minor victories become fuel for modest victories, become fuel for major victories, and major victories can be the things that fundamentally change the entire field of play. So. Pessimism of the intellect, my friend, optimism of the will.

[elysiumxii]

Antonio's chest heaves with deep breaths, both from the exertion of subduing the wriggling woman but also a little hot-blooded enjoyment from the sport of it. He didn't like hurting women, of course, but the longer he was in Milana's company the less he saw her as a helpless woman, more a dangerous, cunning pain in his ass. Gender be damned.

With the knife out of her hand, his hold softens a little. Seeing the pain on her pretty face and knowing his squeezing hold would only worsen the bruising, he instead transfers both of her twists to one of his large hands, pinned above her head, whilst the other hand turns her face by the chin back towards him. He couldn't have that expression hidden from him. Not when it was so enjoyable to have finally won something over her. Even if it was done by sheer size and force because she had a quicker, more cutting tongue that his own. Brains vs brawn.

/"Trust me, bella, I would enjoy nothing more than to rid myself of you/" he threatens, but his voice had calmed, more breathy from the run, and instead of squeezing her neck he just runs his fingers slowly down her throat from where he'd been holding her chin. He scoffs softly at her second query, finding the idea preposterous. She was an federal agent! That would never happen. "/You? As my wife? Please... you're so skinny, you're barely good for breeding/" he mocks. Though the truth of the matter was he knows after a few weeks of being fed by his mother, she would be so deliciously plump even he would struggle to keep his hands to himself. Besides, there was an enjoyably cruel side to treating her like livestock.

"/If I let you up now, do you plan to behave? Or do I need to tie you to the bed and have someone watch you 24 hours of the day?/" He asks with a tilt of his head. More than happy to follow through with tying her to something. @svndri​