#stylish men haircut

[judesbarbershop]

Get Holiday-Ready with These Top Men's Haircuts for Christmas 2024

The holiday season is around the corner, and there's no better time to refresh your look. Whether you're headed to family gatherings or year-end parties, the right haircut can make all the difference. Let's explore some trending styles in Michigan that'll have you looking sharp this Christmas.

Latest Styles Making a Statement

The Curly Fringe

This bold yet versatile style features longer hair at the front, creating a natural fringe that sits on the forehead. Many men's haircut specialist barbers in Lake Lansing recommend this look for guys with natural texture. The optional fade on the sides adds a clean, modern touch.

The Flow

Taking over the scene of stylish men's haircuts, the flow cut offers that perfectly imperfect look. It works exceptionally well with wavy hair and can be dressed up or down. The casual yet put-together vibe makes it a hit if you are searching for men's haircut salons near me in Grandville.

The Wolf Cut

For those ready to make a statement, the wolf cut combines shorter and longer layers for an edgy, contemporary look. It's a fresh take on the mullet that's been turning heads and becoming the first choice for those who want the latest men's haircut in Grandville or anywhere else in Michigan. This style works particularly well for guys with thick, textured hair.

The Textured Fauxhawk

One of the best-suited men's haircuts for those who have thin hair. This modern interpretation of the fauxhawk adds volume while maintaining sophistication. The shorter sides create contrast with the longer top, offering versatility in styling options.

Classic Styles with Modern Appeal

The Modern Mullet

Don't worry – this isn't your 1980s mullet. The contemporary version offers a softer, more wearable approach that's become surprisingly versatile. It can be tailored to suit different face shapes and personal styles.

The Pompadour

This timeless style continues to reign supreme, especially when you want to look polished for holiday events. The swept-up front and clean sides create a classic silhouette that never goes out of style.

The Undercut

Popular at barber shops across Lake Lansing, this style keeps things neat with very short sides and longer length on top. It's perfect for busy guys who want options for styling.

The Classic Fade

Whether you choose a classic, bald, or disconnected fade, this cut remains a go-to for its clean lines and professional appearance.

The Caesar Cut

Want something low-maintenance but stylish? The Caesar cut offers that perfect balance, giving you a neat look with minimal styling time.

The Buzz Cut

Sometimes, simplicity wins. The buzz cut remains a popular choice for guys who want a no-fuss style that still looks sharp.

Styling Tips for the Season

Keep these tips in mind to maintain your fresh cut through the holiday season:

Use a light-hold product for natural movement

Invest in a good dry shampoo for between-wash styling

Keep a small comb handy for quick touch-ups

Consider your hair texture when choosing a style

Making Your Choice

When deciding on your holiday haircut, consider:

Your natural hair texture

Face shape

Maintenance level you're comfortable with

The events you'll be attending

Final Thoughts

The perfect holiday haircut should make you feel confident while being practical enough to maintain through the busy season. Whether you're going for a bold wolf cut or a classic pompadour, these stylish men's haircuts offer something for everyone. Remember to book your appointment early – the holiday rush at salons can get pretty hectic! Pop into your local salon and show them what caught your eye. Gear up, Christmas is comin’.

[hanrylucas]

Barber Shop Los Angeles | Expert Mens Haircuts, Beard Trims & Buzz Cuts

Los Angeles is a city that values style and self-expression, and for many men, finding the right Barber Shop Los Angeles is an essential part of their grooming routine. Whether you’re looking for a clean and sharp Mens Haircut Los Angeles or a simple yet effective beard trim, these barbershops offer a variety of services to help men look and feel their best.

In this article, we’ll explore what makes a Barber Shop Los Angeles special, from classic styles to modern cuts. We’ll also highlight popular services like beard trims, buzz cuts, and general haircut services that have made Los Angeles a go-to destination for men’s grooming.

Why Choose a Barber Shop Los Angeles

A Space for Personalized Grooming

One of the key features that sets a Barber Shop Los Angeles apart is the level of personalization in the services provided. Unlike large, commercial salons, a Barber Shop Los Angeles often focuses on providing individualized experiences for its clients. Barbers take the time to understand your preferences, your hair type, and your desired outcome. Whether you're looking for a fresh Mens Haircut Los Angeles, a trendy beard trim, or a classic buzz cut, the expert barbers are trained to tailor each service to your specific needs.

The vibe in these barbershops is relaxed and welcoming, offering clients the chance to unwind while receiving top-notch grooming services. These shops are not just about getting a haircut—they are about creating an experience where men can feel at ease, chat with the barber, and leave with a new look that fits their personality.

Expertise in Mens Haircut Los Angeles

When it comes to Mens Haircut Los Angeles, the barbers in LA are highly skilled in a variety of cutting styles and techniques. Whether you're looking for a sleek, professional cut for the office or a trendy, more casual look for the weekend, a Barber Shop Los Angeles is equipped to deliver.

Many barbers in Los Angeles specialize in modern cuts like fades, pompadours, undercuts, and textured top cuts. But the skill of a true barber goes beyond just following the latest trends. A Mens Haircut Los Angeles is all about finding the right style that fits your face shape, hair texture, and lifestyle. A skilled barber will not only execute the cut but also offer advice on how to maintain it in between visits, making it easy to keep your look sharp at all times.

Popular Services at Barber Shop Los Angeles

Beard Trim: Defining Your Facial Hair

A well-groomed beard is a statement, and the Barber Shop Los Angeles knows exactly how to help men maintain and enhance their facial hair. Whether you're sporting a full beard, a goatee, or a neatly trimmed stubble, the beard trim is an essential grooming service for many men.

At a Barber Shop Los Angeles, the beard trim is executed with precision. Barbers are equipped with the right tools to trim, shape, and style your beard to complement your face shape and desired look. They take into account the thickness, length, and shape of your beard to ensure it looks neat, defined, and flattering. Regular beard trims not only keep your facial hair looking sharp but also promote healthier growth by preventing split ends and encouraging proper maintenance.

A Beard Trim is often paired with other services like a haircut service or a scalp massage to give you the complete grooming experience. With the right attention to detail, your beard can be a defining feature that enhances your overall style.

Haircut Service: Classic and Modern Styles

The heart of any Barber Shop Los Angeles is its haircut service. From classic cuts to trendy styles, a haircut service in Los Angeles is more than just a quick trim—it’s an opportunity to revamp your look with the skill and precision of a professional barber.

One of the most popular services in a Barber Shop Los Angeles is the fade, a style that blends short sides with a longer top for a smooth transition. Fades come in various styles—high, low, and mid fade—and are customizable to suit your preferences. The ability to choose from different fade types makes this haircut service versatile, allowing for both clean, professional looks and more casual, edgy styles.

Another common service is the pompadour, which features voluminous hair on top with shorter sides. This classic cut has been revamped with modern twists, making it a favorite for men seeking a bold yet sophisticated look. The Barber Shop Los Angeles excels at these classic styles while keeping them fresh and in tune with contemporary trends.

Buzz Cut: Simplicity with Style

For many men, the buzz cut is the go-to style. It’s simple, sleek, and easy to maintain, making it a popular choice for men with busy lifestyles. A buzz cut involves trimming the hair to an even, short length using clippers, providing a clean and no-fuss look.

A Barber Shop Los Angeles takes the buzz cut to the next level by ensuring it’s done with precision. The key to a great buzz cut is evenness, and professional barbers are trained to create a uniform length all around the head, with clean lines and sharp edges. For those looking for a more customized buzz cut, barbers can tailor the length to suit your face shape and personal style.

The buzz cut is also versatile in that it can be combined with other elements, such as a fade or line design, to make it more distinctive. It’s a low-maintenance yet stylish option that can work for many men, from professionals to athletes.

Why Choose a Barber Shop Los Angeles

High-Quality Services at Every Visit

One of the most compelling reasons to choose a Barber Shop Los Angeles is the consistent high quality of service. Whether it’s your first visit or your tenth, you can expect the same level of attention to detail and expertise with every visit. The barbers here take pride in their work, ensuring that every Mens Haircut Los Angeles, beard trim, or buzz cut is done to perfection.

The tools and products used in a Barber Shop Los Angeles are of the highest quality, ensuring that the results are both long-lasting and satisfying. Barbers use the best clippers, scissors, razors, and grooming products to achieve the desired style, ensuring a flawless finish every time.

A Comfortable and Relaxing Environment

Another reason to visit a Barber Shop Los Angeles is the welcoming and relaxed atmosphere. These barbershops are designed to be places where men can unwind and enjoy the grooming process. The ambiance is often casual and laid-back, providing a perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

The comfortable seating, great conversation, and sometimes even the soothing background music all contribute to making your grooming experience feel like more than just a haircut. The environment allows you to sit back, relax, and enjoy the experience while getting a top-notch haircut, beard trim, or buzz cut.

Building Relationships with Your Barber

Visiting a Barber Shop Los Angeles is also about building a long-term relationship with your barber. Over time, your barber gets to know your preferences and can recommend cuts that suit your style, face shape, and hair type. Many men find themselves coming back to the same barber for every appointment, creating a sense of continuity and comfort.

Whether you’re in for a routine Mens Haircut Los Angeles, a beard trim, or trying a new buzz cut, your barber will be able to provide personalized recommendations based on their knowledge of your past styles and preferences. This ongoing relationship ensures that you always leave the shop looking and feeling your best.

Conclusion

A Barber Shop Los Angeles offers much more than just a haircut; it provides a complete grooming experience. From expert Mens Haircut Los Angeles services to precise beard trims and the ever-popular buzz cut, these barbershops cater to every man’s grooming needs with style, precision, and attention to detail.

Whether you’re looking for a classic cut or a modern style, the Barber Shop Los Angeles is the ultimate destination for men’s grooming. With personalized service, skilled barbers, and a comfortable atmosphere, these establishments are more than just places to get a haircut—they are places where men can relax, refresh their look, and leave feeling confident.

[theottersamurai]

New haircut, who dis?

[mensdreamlifestyle]

10 HABITS TO MAKE MORE ATTRACTIVE FOR MEN

you want to look better, you want to be the best version of yourself and you, of course, want to be attractive men. Who doesn’t right that’s. Why? I love making these blogs. That’s why? want to help you improve yourself as a man so that you can look and feel your absolute best. In today’s blog, we’re going to cut straight to the chase, I’m going to give you 10 easy habits to be attractive to men.

What you can start doing right now will automatically make you look more attractive. No, it’s, not a magic pill it’s just 10 easy things that you can add to your lifestyle, and boom all of a sudden you look better, you feel better and your confidence will go through the roof. Read more...

[crownmemes]

Fashion & Appearance Sentences, Vol. 2

(Sentences for muses that are concerned about how they look. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"A woman is always impatient to wear a new dress."

"What do you plan to do now that you're wearing that expensive suit?"

"Glamour looks better than you than it does on me."

"I shaved off my beard for you!"

"Don't you like this suit?"

"This isn't the most stylish, I know, but it will keep you warm."

"Did you get a haircut? I like it!"

"Playing to my vanity. You should be ashamed!"

"Do you think my teeth are my best feature?"

"Those shirts looked good on you! I can't believe you didn't buy them!"

"What did you pay for those shoes?"

"Where are your cufflinks?"

"Trust me, you do not need a boob job!"

"You clean up very nicely!"

"I know I probably shoudn't say this, but I look so cute!"

"Is that a grey hair?"

"How you dress reflects how you feel."

"I always liked that jacket. It suits you."

"Are you growing a beard? I've always had rather a soft spot for bearded men."

"Look at you! You're a mess!"

"I will follow a few steps behind you. I would not like to be seen in association with that hat."

"You have beautiful eyes."

"I must say, you're looking unusually elegant!"

"I like this suit. It's always been lucky for me."

[a-boca-do-inferno]

trouble with a capital T (tony montana x reader)

summary: (y/n) has an unexpected admirer.

warnings: angst, smut-bit of a size kink? idk u tell me, violence, drugs, abuse, dubcon, blood, swearing, domestic abuse, fluff and a little stalking ig. also tony montana

words: 8.9k

notes: this is toxic asf pls beware when reading it. also reader here is stupid asf for narrative purposes do not be like that irl im begging you. i rly have a concerning taste in men and if someone ever finds this i dont kno any of you <3 enjoy!

There’s this new guy in town who looks like trouble with a capital “T”. Everyone has seen him in person, except (y/n). However, by the stories and theories she hears, the figure of this man becomes even more macabre. Nobody knows his real name. He’s known only as Scarface, which should be an indicator of his perhaps not-so-scary nature, but (y/n) is a bit of a coward, if she’s being honest.  

Still, when the girl thinks of him, she likes to imagine he has his own reasons for doing what people say he does. It is a morally questionable service, certainly illegal—considerably inhumane—, yet something inside of her extends this guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s not an uncommon theme in Florida, anyway, selling drugs and whatnot, so perhaps Scarface isn’t of all bad. He is still surely just a man, right? But when she received Elvira’s messages saying there was a shooting in her neighborhood, and that Scarface was arrested for allegedly taking part in it, (y/n) felt a little overwhelmed about her previous considerations. Even if the guy wasn’t the devil like everyone made him to be, he was a criminal. A violent one at that, putting innocent people’s lives in danger, like her friend’s. 

She couldn’t go see Elvie that day, but (y/n) told her she’d drop by as soon as possible. Elvira sent some pictures of her neighbor’s window with bullet holes, six of them. The neighbor was a man who lived alone and listened to loud music all day on Sundays. Why anyone would have ordered his death, they had no idea. But then again, (y/n) didn’t really trust men who’d hit on women even after being told “no” a couple of hundred times. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was a rapist, or a pedophile, or both. Anything was possible nowadays. The neighbor managed to escape the sniper’s attack and left through the back, anyway, and Elvira said he entered the backyard of her house to protect himself. She was really lucky that by that time, the police had already arrived at the scene and readily took the shooter into custody.  

Scarface, according to Elvie’s description, was a short, rustic-looking man. He was white, but sunburned, with a stylish haircut reminiscent of the ‘80s and a shaven face. His eyes were big and dark, with a prominent nose, and there was a scar on his left eye, which obviously earned him the infamous nickname. He walked around with a worn Hawaiian shirt and a white wifebeater under it, the one everybody says he’s always wearing; from the waist down, he had shabby jeans held up by a leather belt and old-fashioned cowboy boots. The kind they used to wear in the Wild West, probably.  

The guy was just an almost cartoonish figure, a villain straight out of some children’s TV show. And still, somehow, he was the terror of this city as of lately. Everyone licked his balls in an attempt to spare their own lives. Uselessly, of course, since he didn’t seem to have any real consideration for anyone or anything, except for money. So, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he wouldn’t kill any of his so-called “friends” downtown, unless they owned something valuable to him—drugs, for instance. 

And him being detained now, for the hundredth time that month, wasn’t really a relief, since he would soon be out. Because no one could ever catch him in the act—he was a professional, after all—, his stay in the precinct’s modest jail was only for a few hours. At most one night. Five hundred, even a thousand dollars in bail—or a bribe, in fact—was enough for the sheriff to release him with a faithful promise he would see Scarface again the following week. And it was no sooner said than done. 

Nobody knew where he lived. There were rumors his home was in the neighborhood next to (y/n)’s, but it was never confirmed. It also wouldn’t make any difference to know where his residence was. Again: the guy was a professional. Even the mayor licked the floor he walked. But Scarface also had his enemies, obviously. On her block alone there were four or five men who would kill him in broad daylight with their bare hands, if given the chance. She didn’t know the story very well, but it obviously had something to do with settling scores. It always did.  

Scarface, the cowboy-boots and burnt-skin, revolver-stuck-to-spine and walk-of-an-insufferable-bastard Scarface, was the greatest example of how the universe does not give any tips. The divine does not send signs. And when it does, it’s a bullet in the head, right in the middle of your eyebrows. Scarface is the universal clue of at least three people a week, but no one recognizes him as such. They’d rather bow to his feet, fearing for their lives, as if the devil had any sympathy in him in the first place. It was a funny paradox. Furthermore, the universe is also a sneaky son of a bitch. So, of course her brother would get into some trouble and end up in jail. And of course he would ask (y/n) to save his ass as she often did.  

She quickly turned around the way she was making to the supermarket and parked in front of the station, luckily only a few blocks away from her destination. The girl entered the room in silence and wrinkled her nose slightly at the strong smell of pee and cigarettes coming from the back, where the small jail was. In the waiting room, there were only two men sitting with their heads down and a guard in front of the hallway that led to the detainees.  

(y/n) went to talk to the guard and before disappearing, he told her to wait right there. She took a sit as far away from the two ominous-looking men as possible and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. In fact, she was distressed. Despite Manny being known for his little transgressions, he’d never been arrested before, so she had also never been to a police station up until that point. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were trembling slightly.  

The guard finally returned and she let out a sigh of relief. He handed her some paperwork to fill and she paid the bail in silence. While she gave him her signature, loud voices and laughter could be heard approaching in the hallway next to the waiting room. The laughter was undeniably masculine, a deep voice reverberating through the walls of the quiet police station. (y/n) held her breath as her eyes landed on brown shoes touching the floor. She didn’t dare look up and quickly finished signing the papers, going back to her chair while the guard went to get Manny.  

She stared down at her phone, her heartbeat speeding up again. The disturbing laughter ceased and the girl heard a rattle of keys followed by another clang. A thick accent thanked someone and (y/n) let out her breath, thinking he was leaving at last, but the heavy boots made their way to the water cooler right next to her. She bit her lip and sighed shakily, still not daring to look up. The way he was standing betrayed the lack of care for his spine, as he was unnecessarily leaning too far back. His loud gulps almost made (y/n) roll her eyes, despite her nervousness. He really looked like he came out of a cartoon with such deliberately theatrical behaviour.  

The two men sitting away from her got up at the same time and walked out of the station, leaving just Scarface, another guard who was on the computer, and her. But as she had no luck, a voice called that damn guard and he left them both alone in the waiting room. At that point, (y/n) knew the asshole was just messing around with that glass of water he’d been drinking for the past two minutes. And for that reason, she decided to stand up straight and look at him. There was nothing to fear. She had nothing to do with his drug shenanigans. 

The girl was only still hesitant of Scarface maybe trying to do something inappropriate, but she didn’t have time to run when he threw the cup in the trash and sat down on the empty chair right next to her. That man’s sly smile and predatory gaze made her shiver from head to toe. “Mornin’”, he states, his deep voice very close to her ear.  

(y/n) turned to look at him and kept her expression solemn. “Morning”, she simply replies, and perhaps it comes out too imposing, because Scarface raises his eyebrows and looks at her with some humor.  

“A tough one, huh? Just the way I like it.”  

She wants to laugh at his words, but only shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious? You wish....” 

“I wish what?”, he grabs her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. (y/n) freezes under his touch and can’t hide her panicked expression. He smiles satisfied and moves closer to her. “Your mama never told you not to talk to strangers, huh?”, she tries to pull away from his grip, but he pushes his fingers harder against her cheeks to the point of hurting. “Answer me.”  

“You’re not a stranger, Scarface”, she grins and he lets go of her at last. (y/n) takes a deep breath and clears her throat, checking the time and tucking her phone into her front pocket. Thankfully, Manny’s voice is approaching in the hallway and she gets up, giving the guy a scowl. “I know you think you own this town, but remember you’re still just a guy. Get over yourself.”  

“Oh, I know”, Scarface mutters, smirking like she’d just told him a great joke. He stands up and tries to touch her again, but (y/n) manages to avoid it. He then pulls her closer by the waist for a split second, as the guard and her brother appear in that instant. The man lets go of her quickly, and before he leaves, he flashes her a wink, “have a good day, baby.” 

She watches angrily as Scarface disappears, caressing her aching face. The girl turns around to find Manny with a sorry expression, and she clenches her jaw. “Let’s go”, it’s all she says, walking out of the station without waiting for him. 

♡♡♡ 

A week after that incident, (y/n) never left the house again. Until today, that is; she only went to her brother’s because he was starting to get a little worried about her confinement. She didn’t think of telling him why she was hiding for protection, because the less her family knew about that crazy drug dealer bothering her, the better.  

(y/n) walked out of her car fast so she wouldn’t bump into Scarface on the street by any chance. Although it was pretty unlikely to happen, seeing as he didn’t usually hang out in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t take any risks. No one besides herself knew what went on in the station and she didn’t intend to tell anyone else. The girl didn’t even know if she should have told anyone in the first place. The guy had this city in his hands. If he wanted to find her, it was a snap of his fingers.  

But of course, (y/n) couldn’t run away forever. And the day she decided she’d go to Manny’s without any fear, while she was sitting on the sofa, that damned thick accent came from the front door. She widened her eyes and got up quickly, but when the girl reached the kitchen door, her scared expression met the man’s pleased one. He was smiling at something her brother was saying, however, as soon as he saw her, the mirth on his features was borderline sickening. Still, he visibly tried to play it cool because Manny was there.  

(y/n) pretended not to care as she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself there, hands shaking violently. She sent millions of desperate messages to Elvira. The voices continued to chatter excitedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have Scarface at her brother’s place. Like they were buddies. 

Suddenly there was silence and someone knocked on the bathroom door slowly, barely audible. Her heart raced and she felt a lump forming in her throat, eyes watering without warning. Another knock. She put her phone away and slowly opened the door, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. The man’s intimidating presence greeted her and a victorious grin hovered on his lips. (y/n) looked into the living room for Manny, but there was no one. He seemed to have left for some reason, and she felt her world fall apart.  

The girl stared back at Scarface and he was now serious, examining her body up and down with no shame. “So you’re family, huh?”, he muses, his terrifying voice making her shiver sharply. She sighed and went to sit back in the couch, accompanied by him, who was leaning against the doorway and still gazed at her without blinking. “When they told me you were Manny’s lil’ sis, I couldn’t believe it, baby! But here you are, I guess that makes him my brother-in-law”, he states, content as a child who solves a puzzle. “He told me you live alone, right? I might pay you a visit someday.”  

“Right”, she merely scoffs, attempting her best not to show the shift in her seat hearing his words. 

He smiles macabre, moving his index finger from side to side in denial. “You don’t talk to me like that, tigress. Let’s start there”, he looks around, making sure Manny’s still not there, and approaches her. (y/n) instinctively pulls away and he grabs her face just like before, forcing her to glance at him. “You don’t talk to me like that. Got it?” She doesn’t answer and he squeezes her cheeks even more, making her let out a groan of pain. “Got it?”  

“Got it”, she spits out, begrudgingly.  

(y/n) thinks he’s going to let go, finally, but first he gives her an awkward, aggressive peck on the lips. She instantly shoves him and wipes her mouth to somehow undo that contact. Scarface laughs, “you’re so cute, baby.”  

“What are you doing with my...” 

Manny arrived as soon as she closed her mouth, readily engaging in another conversation with Scarface while ignoring her presence there. They talk about people and places she knew nothing about, it sounded like a bunch of codes, and she gaped at each sentence they exchanged. How the hell did they know each other? What was that asshole doing with her brother?!  

Dinner came and Scarface—his name was never mentioned, for some reason, and she wasn’t about to ask—made a point of sitting next to her, but if Manny noticed their closeness, he didn’t pay any mind. They continued talking through the meal and Manolo chit-chatted (y/n) now and then, forcing her to answer Scarface’s falsely innocent and curious questions about what she was talking about. As if he didn’t already know everything about her life, apparently.  

After helping clean the kitchen, (y/n) said goodbye to her brother. Scarface watched them silently from the sofa and she tried to keep her focus on Manny. “I have some stuff to do at home now, gotta go.” 

“You going alone? It’s late”, he frowns.  

She waves her hand to make light of it. “It’s fine, Manny. It’s a ten minute ride.”  

Manolo shakes his head. “Even so, (y/n), you know this neighborhood ain’t safe. I can’t take you home, but Tony can.”  

So that’s his name.  

Scarface—Tony chimes in, not letting her answer Manny just yet, “c’mon, let’s go. I’ll take you.” 

“It is not necessary. I literally drove here!”, the girl huffs, already taking the first step to leave.  

Manny stops her before she reaches the door. “No, no. It’s too dangerous here at night, you better go with him. C’mon, you take her, Tony. She’s just a little stubborn.”  

(y/n) locks her jaw, but doesn’t say anything.  

“I noticed”, Tony mutters tauntingly, giving her an ambiguous look that surely only she saw. The girl took a deep breath and surrendered, waving goodbye to Manny as she walked with Tony to her car. They strolled in silence to the garage and as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, he pulled out a little plastic bag from his pocket, full of a white powder. He pointed with his chin at it, raising the object. “I just made some business with your brother today, baby, no worries.”  

(y/n) stared at him confused, but still didn’t say a word. Manolo was really going down an irreversible path, it seemed, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a heavy heart, she could only get in her car and pray she’d make it home safe that night. Scarface followed her and started driving, shooting her a smile or two over his shoulder. Luckily, it wasn’t long until they parked in front of her building. He turned off the ignition and got out of the car with her, obviously inviting himself in.  

Of course.  

(y/n)’d been trying for a few seconds to open the stuck gate and Tony notices her suffering, helping her to complete the task. She doesn’t thank him and simply walks into the house, knowing he’s on her tail. His eyes burn into her back, but she tries not to focus on it while starting to unlock the door. She is greeted by her cats rubbing against her heels and she smiles automatically. Forgetting for a brief moment that Scarface is there, the girl takes the smaller one in her arms, hugging and kissing her soft dark fur. When she puts her down, the man is watching her with an amused expression.  

Her cheeks tingle and (y/n) makes her way to the kitchen, with Tony still following in silence. She pours herself a glass of water and offers it to him next, which he accepts, still staring at her with the same predatory demeanor. He’s going to try to do something ugly to her, obviously, and she is trying not to think about it, but it’s getting harder and harder. If she screams, no one will hear her. Fortunately or not, she has no neighbor on her floor. She makes a mental list of what objects she can throw at his head to make him pass out like in the movies; a brand new moisturizer that is full; a makeup bag; her favorite pan. If she is quick enough, maybe she can lock him in her room and call the police. 

(y/n) snaps out of her thoughts when Tony approaches her behind the counter, while she still holds a glass of water. She is staring at his chest when he calmly takes it from her hands and offers her a smile. She tries to hide her trembling fingers from his vision, but he notices them and takes her palm in his, raising it to her eye level.  

“Not so tough now, huh?”, he mocks, making (y/n) bite her own tongue so she doesn’t give him a sharp answer and gets punched because of it. He kisses her fingertips softly, catching her off guard. Tony notices her confused expression and grins again, lowering his face to bring it closer to hers. “What, you think I was gonna keep scaring you off? I’m not that bad, baby.” 

“If you say so.” She mutters reflexively, regretting it right away when his dangerous orbs fall on her. She sighs and looks away. “Sorry.” 

He nods approvingly. “Good girl.”  

There is an old gouache paintbrush she could use to pierce through his neck in case it gets bad. The glass pitcher is over the sink. (y/n) looks at the table and there’s a fork and a spoon. The big knife is in the drawer— 

Tony lets go of her hand and walks to her room. She listens to the sound of his wooden soles echoing against the tile floor a little astonished, before following him. She opens the door, which creaks imposingly through the empty, closed house, and her heart skips a beat when she hears the mattress shift, indicating he has settled into her bed.  

(y/n) is in front of her window to open it, but before she can do it, his arms wrap around her from behind and pull her away from it. She widens her eyes and tries to pull away, however, the grip tightens. She starts to shake more aggressively and an agonized scream leaves her mouth, causing his hand to slam against it, muffling the sound. She looks desperately at Tony and he’s signaling her to be quiet. Panic takes over her body and she gives up trying to get out of his grip. He seems happy with this decision and removes his palm from her lips, laying her body down on the bed and straddling her, legs wrapping around her waist as his knees sink into the mattress.  

Her eyes water and she closes them tightly, waiting for the inevitable. (y/n) remains like this for a few seconds, but nothing happens. She thinks maybe Tony has given up on what he wanted to do, however, when she opens her eyes again, his face is hovering over hers. His brown eyes are scrutinizing the girl minutely, there’s not a single vestige of that villainous smile that lives on his lips. She returns his gaze and they stare at each other in silence. His elbows are propped up against the mattress and his hands are still gripping her arms, holding them in place, but with no force.  

(y/n) wants to ask him what he’s doing, but the thought leaves her mind as soon as he takes a gun out of his pants. She screams in desperation, “help! Help! Someone help me!”  

“Shhh. Hey, calm down!”, Tony puts his hand over her mouth yet again, holding her down so she’ll stop her kicking. She watches, still horrified, as he places the gun on the chair beside her bed. “I’m not killing you, baby, calm down”, there’s a smirk on his features that makes her stomach turn. “Yet”, he adds, taking his palm away from her trembling lips. (y/n) tries to get up, but he pushes her back down. “I ain’t killing you, but I’m gonna do other things.” 

“No, no, please...” 

She can’t finish her pleas as his full lips crash onto hers, now in a kiss deeper and less brusque than the peck from earlier. The girl tries to resist at first, but soon her body speaks louder and she ends up giving in to the contact. She lets out an involuntary groan as his rough fingers lift the hem of her shirt, almost like an animal in heat. Damn hormones, she thinks in the back of her mind, not really caring for that much when his fingertips send shivers through her skin.  

Tony pulls apart so he can remove her garment, smirking at her bra-covered breasts. She blushes terribly. “You’re so cute, baby.” 

He kisses her again and (y/n) reciprocates vehemently this time, wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. His lips trace down her neck and she faintly laughs at the little tickle there, making him lift his face to look at her intently. There’s something different in his eyes, almost adoration, but she can’t finish the thought as he unbuttons her pants and unceremoniously pulls them down, leaving the girl in her underwear.  

Tony drops to his knees on the bed and shrugs off his iconic floral shirt and wifebeater. (y/n) can’t help but smile seeing his near-athletic pecs and gets on her knees too, silently volunteering to strip him out of his own pants. He watches closely as she unzips his jeans and unbuttons them, sliding them down his toned thighs. Tony finishes getting rid of the piece and goes back to kissing her neck urgently, leaving more aggressive caresses in place. A chill travels her spine when his member bumps into her stomach and she squeezes his arm reflexively, catching his attention.  

“You good?”, he asks, sounding so worried he seems to be another man completely different from the Scarface criminal who’s been with her until now.  

She simply nods and lets out another moan as his lips descend to the gap between her breasts, leaving sinuous kisses all the way down. He licks at the sweat accumulated there and kisses her again; a salty, icy kiss. A hand finds her face and trails her cheek lightly, while his tongue invades her mouth shamelessly. His touch is so gentle it looks absolutely nothing like the man who bruised her face twice with his brute strength. Tony gropes down her back and unbuckles her bra, making the girl shiver as he grips her nipple. Soon, he pays attention to them with his mouth and she bites her lip so as not to make too much noise. Still nibbling at the sensitive skin on her breasts, his deft hands slide down her panties and her face heats up violently.  

He slips two fingers into her without blinking an eye. (y/n) arches her back and blurts out a high-pitched groan, which had him chuckling, turning her on even more as his thick voice vibrated against her nipple. When his tongue meets her clit, the feeling is indescribably divine. She’s now a carefree mess of moans and ragged breathing. Tony’s hands grip her hips strongly, holding back her unconscious thrusts.  

He lifted his face again before she came, his chin visibly wet. “Got protection, baby?”  

“No”, she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I never did that, I didn’t have to...” 

“Right”, he says thoughtfully, as if just connecting the dots now. Tony fumbles in his pockets and doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, so he looks back at her. “I got nothing on me either.”  

“What now?”  

They exchange a silent look and he shrugs, getting back on top of her body. “Now I’m pulling out y qué sea lo que Dios quiera.”  

(y/n) is going to protest, but Tony takes off his boxers and invades her without warning, causing her to groan in pain. He soon notices her expression and stands statue over the girl, waiting for her to recover. Tears form in her eyes once again and he leaves light kisses on her cheek, trying to calm her down. She smiles softly at the delicate and unexpected gesture. Soon she’s ready and he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace.  

The solemn creak of the bed is the only sound besides their gasping breaths and moans she can’t contain. Every now and then his golden chain hits her chin, however it doesn’t hurt, it’s but a little friction. His big hands are squeezing her breasts as he speeds up the movements little by little. (y/n) looks to the side and sees the revolver on the pink chair, the contrast of that scene making her want to laugh. She returns her attention to Tony and he’s got his eyes closed, mouth open, leaving wet kisses all over her cleavage. He’s dripping with sweat, just like her.  

He takes her lips again and only then does she return to the moment, losing herself in her own pleasure and letting the orgasm overtake her without precedent. Next up is Tony, who comes with a husky moan and one last kiss. He lets his body slide off hers, pulling out his cock while his cum paints them both. (y/n) kisses his face after the effect of orgasm and he returns the caress, pulling her into a fairly tight hug. She smiles at the contact and lets him hold her there for a few minutes. They’re silent the entire time, until he pulls the sheet from under the pillow to cover them. Tony and her exchange indecipherable, sinuous looks, and that’s when her penny drops. She just had sex with a criminal.  

Jesus. 

“This shouldn’t have happened”, she say abruptly, sitting up.  

Tony also sits down and shrugs.  “But it did. So what?”  

“So it won’t happen again!”, (y/n) exclaims in annoyance, not caring that this man has a gun and isn’t afraid to use it at all. “You need to go.”  

“Already? You just wanna use me and throw me away, huh? Now that’s cold, baby”, she rolls her eyes at his mockery and stares at the wall as he stands beside the bed, his stuff swaying back and forth. “Hey”, he calls, but she doesn’t answer. He then touches her chin and gives her a lingering, incredibly soft peck. She sighs as Tony pulls away and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he puts on his clothes. “You’re cute, (y/n).”  

“Thanks”, she timidly blurts out, not really knowing what to say. The girl looks for her underwear and tenses up as she watches him handle his revolver, placing it on his back again.  

He notices this. “I ain’t hurting you with that gun, you know? You can relax.”  

“Even if you don’t use it against me, it’s still a weapon”, she mutters seriously, turning her back to him so he can buckle her bra.  

He does the task and hugs her from behind, kissing her locks. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, baby, not even a weapon.” 

She turns to face him, hugging his waist lightly. Tony gets serious all of a sudden and lets out a long breath as he finally releases her. He checks his pocket and fixes his messy hair in the small mirror on top of the dresser. Before leaving, they exchange one last look. None of them says a word. (y/n) watches him disappear behind the gate and looks around the empty house, returning to her room and closing the door. She stares at the completely messed up bed and the sheet painted by drops of blood and sperm, which they shared for a few seconds, now on the floor. Ha.  

Trouble with a capital “T”. 

♡♡♡ 

Two weeks after the incident, (y/n) didn’t go to her brother’s house anymore. But Elvira, being such a pain in her ass sometimes, had practically bullied her into going out tonight.  She was anxious, it’d been a while since she went out to have fun like this. Her fear of bumping into Tony—Scarface wasn’t exactly as strong as before, for obvious reasons, but she’d still rather not take her chances in finding him again. No matter how good his dick game was, he was a dangerous individual. Better to stay away. 

So, for the record; she fucked a hitman and was most likely falling in love with him, maybe even reciprocally, just after he got violent with her several times. Elvie obviously didn’t know about it yet, but what would she do when that time inevitably came? Because (y/n) was going to tell her, no doubt. She couldn’t keep it all to herself forever, hiding it from everyone like it was some sort of crime. Elvira would probably call her crazy and even threaten to lock her up in an asylum, wanting to choke Tony if it was as much as hinted he laid his hand on her. And she wasn’t even wrong for that! 

But what about her family? God, if her father knew... He’d go after Tony’s blood. He would simply never look her in the face again, especially since their relationship was already fragile enough because of Manolo. And what of her reputation? All of Miami would talk about this. She’d be the new bitch on the block for sure. No one would respect her, she’d become a joke. Not that she cared about what those people think of her, but it would be nice to stay anonymous. It was safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) finished getting ready and stared at her reflection, smiling faintly. Perhaps it was best to let those corrosive thoughts for tomorrow’s hangover. She grabbed her bag and locked her apartment, walking down the deserted street. As the club was close to her house, there was no reason for anyone to come and get her, so she’d go alone with no worries. It wasn’t like anyone was going to do anything to her on her quiet neighborhood, anyway, much less on the weekend. Plus, criminals in this town had a schedule and they liked to stick to it. At least the ones who grew up there. 

Already approaching the place, she saw Elvira with some of her friends waiting for her in the line. They greeted each other and entered the club, going for a table next to the bar. (y/n) immediately asked for a strong drink to try and calm down her nerves, feeling rather unfit for that environment after such a long time away from it. At the first glass, she felt lighter and smiling, pulling Elvie to the dance floor.  

They’re dancing and laughing like idiots when a tall man approaches them. He is moving to the song and calmly smoking a cigarette while he watches the girls, eyes glued to (y/n)’s form in specific. She doesn’t hear a word Elvira is saying over the music as she stares back at the guy, so distracted she accidentally knocks over a waiter’s tray behind her, making a huge mess. (y/n) apologizes quickly and starts clumsily picking things up on the floor, while the mysterious guy crouches down and helps her with it. She smiles shyly and they finish fixing everything in place.  

She thanks him softly and turns to go back to her table, but he grabs her arm gently. “In a hurry?”, he questions playfully, an amused smile on his full lips.  

She blushes. “Oh, no, I was just…”  

He shakes his head. “You’re a little shy, I can see that. Let’s put an end to this shyness now, come with me!”, he walks off, dragging her to the bar. “So, what’s your name?”, he asks, signaling for the bartender to bring them two beers.  

“(y/n).”  

“Frank, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their drinks arrive and they make a toast, while she takes a big swig. Frank smiles and pulls her by the waist, taking her by surprise. “Lost your shyness yet?” 

“I...” 

He attacks her lips before she can finish, leaving a wet, beer-tasting kiss on her mouth. (y/n) has to make a tremendous effort not to drop the beer from her hand, making way for his tongue to explore every corner of her mouth. Frank separates them just to take another sip of his drink and starts kissing her neck. Elvira’s eyes from afar give her a surprised and mischievous look. She flashes her a smug smile, but as soon as she does, her friend’s expression completely shuts down and now it’s one of sheer panic. (y/n) frowns and turns to look at where she’s staring so terrified.  

She’s greeted by Tony’s aggressive hands pulling her away from Frank in a sudden movement. He drags her out of the man’s arms, keeping her behind his body. Tony then hits him with his fist. (y/n) widens her eyes with the amount of punches Tony is throwing at Frank and tries to get him off the guy, but he pushes her away. She looks around and people surround them, watching the fight in silence and astonishment, however no one moves a finger to help break it up. Of course. It’s Scarface.  

No one would dare stop him.  

Frank managed to leave a blow on Tony’s stomach, but he couldn’t dodge another punch to the jaw and fell to the ground, looking dizzy. When she thought Tony would back down and leave it at that, he went over to Frank’s body on the floor and striking him wildly again. She was desperate for help to separate them, but nobody did anything. (y/n) tried to pull Tony away from him and he pushed her once more, only this time she didn’t give up so easily. She grabbed his arm with all the strength of a slightly intoxicated person and made him look at her. The fury in his eyes slowly seemed to soften and he dropped Frank’s semi-conscious body. 

Once on his feet, Tony looks around him, menacingly showing his gun tucked into his pants. Everyone scatters like startled ants immediately, without him having to say a word. When they’re alone, he glances at Frank one more time and looks back at (y/n). His anger seems to have returned.  

“I wish I done that to you”, he begins, his thick voice making her shiver. She takes a step back, but he grabs her by the neck and pulls her close again. “Lucky for you, I’m doing good lately, baby. So I’m generous, you know? But you both should be fucking dead now.” (y/n)’s hands start to shake and her eyes water instantly at his words, fear taking over her entire body. She tries to free herself from his grip, but he won’t let her. He continues, “you are mine. Ain’t no one touching you but me from now on. Got it?” 

“Yes”, she chokes, tears falling down her face uncontrollably.  

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for her deplorable state. Finally his hand lets go of her neck and she takes a deep breath, sobs leaving her throat aggressively. (y/n) gets as far away as possible and before she knows it, she’s running away. He doesn’t come after her, which she mentally thanks. She felt so scared and angry at that moment that she couldn’t think of anything but running, running for her life.  

♡♡♡ 

(y/n) got home and locked the door thoroughly. She isolated in her room and cried herself to sleep. It was dawn when she managed to close her eyes and rest for a few hours, only to be woken up by a loud noise outside the next day. There were loud bangs on the door, nearly knocking it over. Her breath hitched and she made sure to lock the bedroom door. Maybe she could just pretend nobody was home.  

Another banging thud, now it sounded like someone jumping on the floor. Then there was yet another furious knocking, this time on the front door. Her stomach turned. A bang on the window echoed in her ears and (y/n) began to cry profusely, sobbing in terror. A crash startled her and her eyes widened seeing the wooden blinds breaking in front of her.  

She unlocked the bedroom door in a second and ran behind her apartment, opening the kitchen door as it lead to emergency stairs. Footsteps approached once she managed to get out and run across someone’s yard. She looked for somewhere low enough for her to reach so she could climb, finding a little doghouse in the corner. There wasn’t anybody or anything around, thankfully. However, as soon as she started to take off, big arms grabbed her waist from behind, pulling down her body violently.  

She kicked as hard as she could, but Tony wouldn’t let go. He towed her back into her house and locked the kitchen door, dragging her by the arm back to her room. He threw the girl on the bed without any delicacy and looked at her from where he was standing. She continued to cry copiously, all her strength quickly draining away. (y/n) crouched close to the headboard and watched him sit on the far side, studying her in silence.  

“Crying ain’t doing you no good, baby.” She turns her face to the wall and he walks in her direction, crawling until he’s next to her. He whispers in her ear, “you can’t win for losing.” 

“Shut up!”, she pushes him away, taking Tony by surprise. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t look annoyed.  

He looks pleased.  

“C’mon, now”, Tony approaches again, grabbing her chin to make her eyes stay on his. “Now, now you look like the fucking girl I met in that station. Badass baby”, (y/n) tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her and gives her a forced peck. His stubble scratches her face and she grimaces, dodging and breaking the contact. This seems to irritate him deeply, because in the next second, his palm meets the soft skin of her cheek and the sensation burns. Tony pointed in her direction, warning, “don’t you ever do that again.”  

“I do whatever the hell I want”, she spits out, not caring about the consequences at this point.  

He gets hold of her neck, glaring. “No. You do what I want, you bitch.” 

(y/n) smirks, mockingly. “You think you’re offending me? How cute.”  

Tony then slaps her again, this time much harder, and she laughs out loud at his fragile ego. She pulls herself together and faces him again, pretending not to be shaken. Tears have dried under her eyes and she only cracks a half smile, taking in his scowling features. “You men are such a joke, so easy to figure out.”  

“Careful, baby”, he says in a warning tone, making her chuckle once more.  

“Who do I have to be careful with, you?”, she asks smugly, smacking the hand he lifted to squeeze her neck again. Tony is surprised, although he’s trying really hard not to show it. “You...”, she continues, lightly touching the collar of his shirt. “Who would never hurt me with a gun?”, (y/n) mimics his thick voice. He seems to get annoyed at that and takes her hand away from where it was, which makes her smile victoriously.  

Okay, so it’s not so bad having a criminal with a crush on her.  

“Shut up”, he orders.  

She simply shrugs and brings her face closer to his. Tony places a gentle kiss on her lips and excitement burns inside her as his palm goes straight to her ass, squeezing it. “Hold up, cowboy”, (y/n) mutters, although not really caring about his impatience. “Wanna explain to me what was that about last night?”  

“Told you, you’re mine.” He reiterates casually, trying to pull her onto his lap and kiss her, but she doesn’t allow it. Tony frowns again, speaking with a heavy accent, “what is it now?”  

“You almost killed the guy”, (y/n) points out. She didn’t want to make him feel remorseful or anything, she knew he just wouldn’t; it was all on her curiosity about the sick psychology in his head. She touches the collar of his shirt again and looks into his eyes, the most sincere she’s been so far, and practically begs, “what do you want from me, Tony?”  

Something very similar to confusion runs through his brown orbs, but it’s only for a millisecond, as he looks at her sternly right after. His hands remain promptly by each side of his body, and it makes her a little bit relieved he’s respecting her wishes. It’s a start. 

Of what exactly, (y/n)?  

“I want you, baby”, he says. His voice doesn’t betray any kind of vulnerability, though his gaze conveys less solemnity than his words. She watches him in silence until her eyes inevitably water. Tony frowns and touches her face quickly, holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “What is it?”  

How can he not see? How does he have the courage to even ask what happened? Or are his actions merely impulsive and completely thoughtless, is that it? Does he not know that he was just hurting, hitting her? Does he not know that he was just insulting (y/n) and treating her like a goddamn worthless object? Because the same hands that slapped her cheek minutes ago are now hugging her and stroking her back, as if in an attempt to ease her loud sobs.  

She hears his voice in her ear, soothing, kissing her neck lightly. Maybe it’s all a dream, a hallucination in her head as she’s unconscious with this man doing God-knows-what to her. But it is not. His touch is as real as it was the last time, his pleasure intertwining with hers in a magnificent, if improvised, dance. And it’s as real as the first time their lips met, in a sheer display of power and dominance on his part, but which now reminded her only of a caress exchanged between two lovers. A comfort.  

“(y/n)...”, his deep voice calls again, however her eyes are glazed over the shattered window in front of her. He lifts her face to look at him and there’s a kind of desperation in his expression, even if it’s held back by pride greater than his own ego, if that’s possible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know.” She hears herself speak, sort of in reflex, since it was true. She knew deep down he didn’t mean to hurt her. Maybe at first, yes, but then... Following that afternoon, a new chapter of this crazy story began to unfold. And they are entering one more after last night.  

“It’s true”, he reenforces, and (y/n) really wishes she had the strength to tell him that it’s okay, she understood, but the truth is that she was tired. Sold out. It had been so long since she had slept or eaten anything and she felt her limbs giving up on supporting her body at any moment. “(y/n)”, Tony insists, yet his voice is already a low sound that becomes more and more distant in her mind.  

Soon she doesn’t feel anything anymore.  

♡♡♡ 

The first time (y/n) opens her eyes, everything is blurry. On the second attempt, she notices a figure sitting on the chair beside her bed and a dim light coming from the window. On the third blink, she realized she had probably passed out—for how long was her first question, as the sun outside seemed to point at one or two in the afternoon.  

Tony was silently watching her as she positioned herself and felt her head almost explode into a thousand pieces. Her throat was dry, an unparalleled taste of shit in her mouth reminding her she hadn’t even brushed her teeth due to everything that had happened that day since she woke up. A sigh escaped her lips and (y/n) closed her eyes again, giving up on her efforts to sit up against the headboard. She felt so weak. Her fingers were trembling slightly and she was freezing to death, even with the sun at its peak and all the covers over her on the bed. She felt dizziness enveloping her body and thought she was going to faint again, but a large, rough, careful hand touched her arm.  

Tony looked hesitant, worried, recluse even. His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second and she felt slightly invaded, undressed as his irises watched over her without blinking. She stared at his palm on her forarm and tried to calm down, although her heart hammered inside her chest. “You didn’t eat anything today, did you?”, he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.  

Tony then leaves her alone, not waiting for an answer, and returns with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. (y/n) stares at the image in front of her and feels like chukling, but she contains herself. Instead, she sits up with some difficulty as he hands her the meal, returning to his rightful place on the pink chair. She takes a couple of bites and a huge relief rushes through her body as the food reaches her stomach. It had been almost a day since she had anything to eat. She didn’t even know how she didn’t vomit her ass off with all the alcohol she had last night.  

The girl sipped the juice as she paid more attention to her surroundings. Tony took care of her while she was unconscious and even cooked. He, the hitman who scared even the most dangerous gangsters in Miami, cooked her a stroganoff and made her an orange juice. It sounded like a scene from a sugary romance movie.  

“It’s just a hangover”, she finally speaks up, her throat still a little dry.  

“It’s not”, Tony turns around and sits leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her intently. She gazes at her plate and continues to eat in silence, while he continues, “I’m real sorry, (y/n).” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have spit out her juice in surprise. (y/n) glanced at him completely horrified, as if he had confessed to an atrocity. Tony stays with the same solemn expression, a little less proud now.  

“For what?”, a shiver runs down her legs. She didn’t want to be insistent, but curiosity was killing her inside.  

Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the question. “For hitting you. And for doing all of that last night.”  

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for what you did”, she mutters bitterly. 

Tony only shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” He repeats, and she closes her eyes when all that tangle of feelings hits her chest once more. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a pleading look. “I swear I ain’t ever laying a finger on you again, baby. You gotta believe me.”  

Her eyes water involuntarily and she holds his hand back firmly, looking at him with a half-broken smile, trying in vain to give him some comfort. “I know”, she begins, voice cracking at the end. “I know, okay? You were angry. I understand.”  

Tony scowls and shakes his head. “No. (y/n), that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t...” 

“I know. It was wrong, Tony, I know, but you didn’t think straight. And neither did I, actually. It happened, there’s no reason to dwell on it. Everything is fine, really.” She looks into his eyes once more and smiles when he nods after a while, still a little hesitant. The girl brings his hand to her lips and kisses it slowly.  

He smiles weakly. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know”, he mumbles, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “I thought I did something to make you pass out. The fear, I don’t know...”  

“That wasn’t it. I’m not afraid of you, Tony”, she assured him, since it wasn’t a total lie. When he was just him, without that domineering, abusive criminal side, she wasn’t afraid of Tony. No longer. (y/n) sighs and finishes her meal, setting her plate on the table beside her, feeling considerably better. “Come here”, she extends her arms to him and Tony goes without blinking, hiding his face in her neck and lying with her on the bed.  

She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Having sex with a murderer who only mistreated her already wasn’t so understandable, but having some kind of relationship with him? It sounded pathetic in her mind. It’s not like he would even want anything to do with her besides sex, but she couldn’t believe that as the seconds went by and he kissed her neck so softly, apologizing endlessly for his transgressions, mumbling that he would never hurt her again, that she’d never need to be afraid of him again...  

Her head was going to explode.  

(y/n) looked down to meet his gaze and stroked his hair, smiling like a lovestruck idiot. She just couldn’t believe this was happening—and somehow she did. Because of course she wouldn’t resist for long. Even when she was shaking like a leaf, still she couldn’t fight his caresses, imagine it now that Tony seems so willing to make up for all his mistakes? 

“Antonio...”, he mutters, barely audible, making her frown. He gives her a small smile and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, “my name.” 

“Really?”, (y/n) asks in disbelief, since now she was probably the only person in town who got that information, but Tony seemed more than comfortable sharing it with her.  

He’s still looking at her with the same little smile on his face. “Really. Why?” He lifts his body to rest on one arm, staring at the girl with some amusement.  

She grins and kisses him again, leaving several pecks on his stubble. “For nothing. It’s just a really nice name.”  

Her eyebrows dance and he laughs, making her insides melt at the sound of his laughter. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t want to hear any other sound for the rest of her life. It was such a full 180 from the big, bad Scarface. 

(y/n) knew “I want you” was very far from “I love you”, but that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat whenever she remembered those words. Besides, even if the latter was the case, it was just never going to be that simple with Tony. She looked at his sparkling brown eyes and let out a deep, dreamy sigh. She was down hard for that dangerous, dangerous man, yet there was nothing but softness inside of her as he held her into his arms. What he did away from her could be as ugly as it came to be, and it still would never compare to how warm she was in his presence—be it for the anger, for the lust or for the comfort he made her feel. So, it was fine. She could handle it.  

She’s always been a bit of a troubleshooter, anyways. 

[flagellant]

Regrowing my hair has been such a wonderful experience of reclamation for me and I want to tell you about it because your long hair men posts are part of why I’m regrowing it.

So, for context, I’m a trans dude. Since I was little, I’ve wanted to shave my head. When my brother and dad shaved their heads for a cancer charity, I wanted to do it too, and I wasn’t allowed. Every haircut I got right up until I left home was controlled, in some part, by my parents. I hated having a layered cut the way my stylist did it because it made my hair hard to put up. She would always tell me I needed to get highlights to emphasize that I was a natural blond, that I needed keratin treatments so I could look like other girls, that I should do this or wear that to make it “suit my face”. And I hated it. Finally, I managed to convince my mom to let me get it cut short-ish in 10th grade, but it was a stylish, girlie pixie cut that didn’t suit me at all. But it was better than nothing.

When I went to university, within a week of moving in, I took the bus to the mall, bought a cheap set of clippers, and shaved my head in the dorm room sink. When I looked up, I finally saw myself looking back. I kept it shaved pretty tight for a while, because I had to be walking outside with wet hair in subzero temperatures. But this year, I’ve started to let it grow back, and I was worried I would hate it again and stop seeing myself when I looked in the mirror but I haven’t. It’s my hair now. Does it look like a mullet? A bit! Does it look kind of silly and weird? Yes! But it’s MY hair now. It’s not the “best style to suit your face shape” or “the style everyone else has”, it’s me. The grown women in my life who feel a sense of ownership over my hair say I would look better if I cut off a few inches at the back. When I tell them that I don’t care and that my goal isn’t looking good, they get confused. But it isn’t. My goal is to look like me and I do and I’m so happy. So, thank you for posting about long haired men so often. You’ve inspired me to take back something I didn’t even realize I didn’t have.

It's literally such an empowerment thing. I'm still only now starting to really feel like I'm able to experiment and figure out my presentation of my self and I'm having a terrified blast! I'm glad my posts could help even if only a little bit with that :3

[greatdeadlylizard]

The ups and downs of socially transitioning so far.

The Ups:

My friends and coworkers being very supportive and using my new name and pronouns.

Got a haircut and I'm so happy with it.

I bought some stylish men's clothing, some button ups and polo shorts. I love the way I look, I pass way more than I expected, even without a binder.

It feels like I finally found myself, and who I want to be.

Experiencing gender euphoria for what feels like the first time.

The Downs:

Using gendered restrooms. I don't feel like I pass enough to use the men's, but I feel like I pass too much for the women's.

Now that I'm aware of the gender dysphoria, it feels like it's gotten worse in some areas.

I pass as a male until I speak, and I wanna rip my vocal cords out. Why do I have such a high pitched voice??

Losing my boyfriend has been the hardest part to deal with. I now understand the term 'Situationship'.

Despite the downs, I have no regrets. I know this is who I am. And I know things will get better.

[jaketposts]

shears | jtk

a/n: i was very inspired by cob's haircut and had to put it down in words. this is the result. also this is my first fic! warnings: none! just a lot of fluff. mention of scissors maybe? word count: 3.7k

You weren’t exactly thrilled that your first job out of cosmetology school was at Great Clips. You hoped to score a job at a fancier salon as you had shelled out a pretty penny for a more prestigious beauty school, but it was, at the moment, your job.

You didn't even like men’s styles. You thought the endless slew of clipper cuts and fades were repetitive, and you longed to get your hands on a head full of long, luscious hair. Sadly, most women already had a stylist that they trusted and had a bond with, so you were stuck with every Joe Schmoe in Nashville who didn’t care to run a dab of pomade through his comb-over every once in a while. 

Sometimes your customers were even rude. Many pompous businessmen who never looked up from their phones had sat in your chair. You had cut the hair of just as many older men who made crude comments about your figure or told you to smile while you tried to fix up their rapidly thinning crew cuts. Neither of these groups tipped very well. 

Truthfully, you loathed Great Clips, but the job kept you afloat while you built a resumé. 

You found that you had much to complain about while idle at the front counter, waiting for a walk-in when the doorbell pulled you from your daydream of a real salon. 

The bright chime of the bell echoes through the empty lobby, alerting you to someone's presence. Your eyes rip away from the spot on the wall you had been absentmindedly staring at while your mind wandered, falling to the man stepping through the doorway.  

He was gorgeous, you thought. He wore a wide-brimmed black hat and a stylish pair of sunglasses. Between the two accessories, you weren't sure what he actually looked like, but you just knew he was pretty. He wore a pair of off-white linen pants paired with a black linen button-down that looked to have been cropped to his hips. The shirt was mildly wrinkled but barely buttoned, which gave you an ample view of his smooth, tan chest adorned with a couple of silver pendants. 

You were enamored with his jewelry and open shirt before you realized the most important part of his appearance.

His hair.

He had wavy chestnut hair that spilled over his shoulders and fell past the collar of his shirt. You hadn't had hair that long walk through the doors in months, maybe ever. 

You were pulled out of your silent admiration by the sight of him walking towards the counter, towards you. You quickly shut your mouth, as your jaw was beginning to hang open at his beauty, and flash him the brightest smile you could muster. 

"Hi, welcome to Great Clips! Do you have an appointment?" you chirp, silently thanking whatever power was above that your voice didn't crack. You bit your lip in anticipation of his answer. You were next up to take a walk-in, but there were stylists in the back who had appointments with regular customers. You hoped he was not one of them. 

Even his voice was gorgeous, "No, just looking for a walk-in if you have time," he replies. He had a perfectly deep, but kind rasp to his voice. You felt your cheeks redden at the sound. 

"Sure! Follow me, please." This time, you aren't so lucky, as your voice breaks and your face flushes deeply. You quickly turn and motion for him to follow you to the chairs, attempting to hide your undoubtedly scarlet face. You could have sworn he chuckled under his breath at your shyness. 

Once you arrive at your station, you gesture for him as you take your spot behind the chair. You start to introduce yourself, "My name is y/n and I'll be cutting your hair today." You pause, expecting him to remove his hat and sunglasses. 

Instead, he rasps, "Hi y/n, I'm Jake." He smiles a gentle, toothy grin at you that you can't help but return. He still does not move to take off his hat or glasses yet, so you pause again, moving to lightly graze your fingers along the brim of his hat. 

"Can I take these off?" you ask. 

Jake's eyebrows raise in realization, "Oh! Of course." He reaches up to lift his hat off his head and place it in his lap, which you had been avoiding looking at. Then, he removes his sunglasses, folding them and sliding them into the top of where his shirt was buttoned, no higher than the bottom of his sternum. He looks back up expectantly, finally making real eye contact with you for the first time since he arrived. Tragically, your face flushes again, but he seems to blush as well.

"There we go," you whisper. Then, in a louder voice, you say, "It's nice to meet you, Jake. What are we doing with your hair today?" You move to run your fingers through your hair to feel the texture and judge the care that it might need. 

"Well," he starts, "My little brother says the ends of my hair look ratty and that I need a haircut. So, here I am." He grins. As you comb your fingers through his hair, you understand what his brother meant. His hair is soft until you get two inches from the ends, where it feels rougher and dryer than the rest. He continues, "Take off whatever needs to come off."

Your mind automatically ponders the dirty implications of his directive, but you furrow your brow to push that thought away, "When did you last have your hair cut?"

Jake squints in thought, then shrugs, "Eight months? Maybe a year? I'm really not sure. I've been so busy with work lately, I just haven't had time to think about a haircut."

You hum and nod at his answer, "What do you do that has you so busy?"

His face splits into a wide smile and his eyes shimmer at your question, "My brothers and I are in a band. We've been on tour and finishing up our next album," he replies, still wildly grinning. You smile back and your heart flutters at the passion for music he exudes.  

"Very cool, anything I might have heard?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but with a tiny smirk that you almost miss, "Maybe," he starts, but he turns his focus back to his hair, "what's the damage?"

You pull the pieces of his hair that lay in front of his shoulders between your index and middle fingers and let the hair feed through until you reach where you think his locks need a chop. About two inches of hair needed to be cut off to keep it healthy. You reply, "About this much."

His eyes widen in shock at how much you indicate. He swallows, then asks, "Are you sure?" Jake's voice is almost timid, and your heart aches.

You nod solemnly, "Sadly, yeah. You have a good bit of split ends here and the only way to get rid of them is to cut them off." He nods back in understanding. 

"I get it. It just seems really short. My hair hasn't been that short in a while." 

You can tell Jake is a little nervous about the necessary length, so you lean over so that your head hovers right next to his, just above his shoulder. You look deeply into his eyes in the mirror and smile, "Yeah, but I promise you'll still look amazing," you reassure him. 

This time it's his turn to flush a deep crimson, which he couples with a shy smile, "Whatever you say."

"Perfect," you reply as you stand up. You pat his shoulder and he follows you to the shampoo bowl. You grab a towel and lay it over the divot where his head is to rest. He sits down and leans back, his hair falling into the bowl. Usually, your customers focus on a spot on the ceiling, but he looks directly into your eyes. His gaze is piercing but soft, his smooth chocolate eyes dulling the sharpness of his glare. The pesky flush of your cheeks rises again, so you quickly avert your gaze in search of the shampoo and conditioner. You could feel his eyes tracking your movements.

You turned the water on, waiting longer than usual to make sure that the water was warm enough. You wanted it to be perfect for him. You ran the shower head over his hair, soaking it in the warm water and turning the faucet off when it was saturated. After pumping shampoo into your hand and lathering it between your fingers, you started to work the solution through his hair. His eyes, once trained on you, flutter shut with a sigh at the feeling of your hands massaging his scalp. His cheeks were rosy and you swear you saw a content smile play across his lips. 

With his head stretched back, the smooth column of his neck was on display, leading your eyes down to his necklaces, which glinted in the overhead light. Your eyes moved to the smooth expanse of his chest, and you almost wished you could run your hands down the warm, tanned skin. At that moment, you realize you had been massaging the shampoo into his hair for too long, distracted by the man in your chair. You rush to grab the showerhead and turn it back on. You gently rinse the suds from his hair, holding your hand between the water and his forehead, protecting his face. Once his hair is clean, you grab a couple of pumps of conditioner and work it through his ends. As you run his wet hair through your fingers, you can tell that his hair really is gorgeous. It just needs some care. 

After rinsing the conditioner from his hair, you gently squeeze out the excess moisture. His eyes open at this, sensing that you're done washing his hair. His eyes find yours again and he gazes up at you. You try to cut the tension with a joke, "Good morning, sleeping beauty," you say softly while a wry smile creeps across your face. 

Jake flushes at your bold joke, "Oh hush," he replies. His words don't hold any malice. He continues, still making eye contact with you, "It felt nice." His face pulls into a shy smirk. 

You have him sit up, and when he does, you grab the corners of the towel by his face and fold his hair up into the towel on top of his head. You lead him back to your salon chair and he sits down. After you grab a cape from the hooks on the wall, you drape it over him. The movement of the cape wafts the sweet smell of the conditioner towards you, but you can smell something else, a scent that is uniquely Jake. 

After you snap the cape around his neck, you remove the towel from his head. You match his gaze in the mirror. He flashes a grin at you, again, and says, "Cut away, Doc." You nod in return. 

You turn to grab a comb and a pair of shears and get to work. As you work through his hair, you strike up a conversation. "What kind of music do you and your brothers play?"

"Rock 'n roll mostly. Maybe a little bit of blues. Whatever we want, really," he replies. You can't see his face from your position behind him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

"Ooh, rock 'n roll? Are you a rockstar, Jake?" you tease. You move to cut the hair on the side of his head. 

"Maybe a little bit," he chuckles. He tries to turn his head towards you to punctuate his reply. 

"Hey, keep your head straight." You stop his head with the back of your hand. He raises his eyebrows and flushes with embarrassment as he snaps back to face the mirror. 

"Sorry," he replies. He averts his gaze in the mirror. 

You smile reassuringly, "No worries," you say. He settles again, "What instrument do you play?"

This question truly makes him light up, "I play the guitar." He beams at you in the mirror and continues, "I started when I was pretty little, and it's taken me a lot of cool places." His grin shows off his shiny, white teeth. 

"Any Grammys yet?" you jest. You assumed he was a small artist waiting for his big break. 

He looks down at his lap and chuckles, "Just the one."

Your head snaps up to look at him in the mirror, "Really?"

He lets a small smile play across his face, "Yeah it was kind of a miracle, actually." You stand up as your mouth hangs open. Then, you begin to laugh, full and from your belly. He flushes again, "What's so funny?"

It takes a second for you to stop laughing and collect yourself to answer him, "You've won a Grammy and you're getting your hair cut at a Great Clips!" The thought, once said out loud, sends you back into a laughing fit. His own bright and genuine laughter joins yours. 

When the laughter dies down, he turns his head towards you and you let it slide this time. He looks up at you and says, with a smirk, "Yeah, but you're cutting my hair here, aren't you?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

You blush furiously, but roll your eyes and turn his head back to the front with a hand on top of his head, "Oh, stop it," you mumble. His self-satisfied smirk remains as you finish cutting his hair.

Once pleased with your work, you set down the comb and shears. You reach for a bottle of light mousse and pump a small amount into your hand. Jake looks at the product in your hand, then up into your eyes, and asks, "What's that?"

You rub the mousse between your hands and start to rake it through his hair. "It's a mousse. It'll make your hair voluminous and give your waves some definition," you reply.

"Oh," he whispers and nods as you finish with the product. You grab the hairdryer and run it over his head for a few minutes, spinning the chair as you evenly dry his hair. 

Once you've finished, you run your fingers through his locks one last time, breaking the cast and giving his hair the tousled look he came in with. You suspect he likes that look. 

You finally spin Jake back around to see the final look in the mirror. The corners of his mouth and his eyebrows rise in unison. He turns his head from side to side, examining his new style. He brings his hands up to his scalp to tousle his hair from the roots. The wide, sparkling grin you were newly familiar with grows even stronger across his sharp features. 

"It looks amazing. You were right about the length," he says. The gratitude is evident in his voice, and you match his grin. 

You watch him admire his haircut in the mirror for just a little longer before he meets your gaze and sighs with contention. After standing there for just one more moment, you pat the back of the chair and say, "Alright, let's go get you checked out, Jake." He stands and follows you as you lead him back to the lobby. You notice that he puts his sunglasses back on his head, but continues to hold his hat in his hands. 

You resume your spot behind the counter and give him the spiel on the cost and other services provided at Great Clips. When it's time to pay, he slides a shiny card toward you. Upon picking it up, you find the card is heavy for such a small item. Your eyes widen at the weight of it in your hand and he chuckles. You look up at the sound, and he shrugs, "Rockstar money, I guess."

You laugh at his jokes one last time before you swipe the card and hand him the receipt with a pen to sign. He scribbles something on the receipt and hands it back to you. Your fingers brush as you take the paper from his hands and a shiver runs down your spine. You smile as he pats the counter, rings clacking against the hard surface. He puts his hands in his pockets and goes to leave, but before he opens the door, he turns around to say, "Thank you, y/n, it really does look great." A kind grin accompanies his expression of gratitude. 

You match his grin with a sugary sweet smile, "No problem, rockstar. Good luck with the new album." He waves and continues walking backward toward the door. It comes up quicker than he was expecting, and he turns around with surprise and embarrassment when he runs into the door. He waves goodbye before he's out the door and never to be seen again. You watch his profile walk down the street through the window, illuminated by the warm afternoon sun. 

You looked down at the receipt, hoping to find a sweet message or even a phone number, but you were met with a tip that far outweighed your service. Your heart flipped at the bittersweet gesture until another customer strolled through the door. 

❁❁❁

After closing out your last customer for the day and sending him out into the night, you began to sweep up. All the other stylists had gone home, so it was just you closing up the shop. Technically, you didn't close for another five minutes, but nobody was coming in, so you figured you would get a head start on cleaning up. 

You had just begun sweeping up the loose clippings left over from the day when the doorbell chimed again. Your heart sank at the sound. You hoped to get home early, but it seems your dreams were shattered by the high-pitched chime. You turned to see who had ruined your plans, but you froze mid-spin. The sight of Jake leaning on the counter shocked you. His elbows rested on the counter with his arms crossed while his fingers absentmindedly tapped at his bicep and his eyes darted around the lobby nervously. His sunglasses were perched on top of his head. 

"Back again, rockstar? Wanna go shorter?" you tease as you saunter back to the counter. You stand across from him, arms spread and hands grabbing the edge of the counter. You pop your hip out to the side and wait for his response with a smirk on your face.

He laughs at your question, "No, this is perfect actually." He moves to run his fingers through his hair.

"Well, what can I do for you? We close in," you check your watch, "two minutes." 

"I have a question for you, actually."

"Sure! Is it about the mousse? I can sell you a bottle, or I can let you take a picture of the label. If you don't like it, I can recommend you something else, too!" You start to ramble a little bit, flustered at the proximity. 

"No," he pauses, "well, actually I'd love to take a picture of the label, but that's not why I'm back."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. You don't want to get your hopes up, but you like the direction this conversation is going. You reply, "What is it?"

He takes in a shaky breath, "Well, uh, I really enjoyed my haircut."

You smile at his accidental display of nerves, "I'm glad you did. Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"No. I, um, well, I really enjoyed your company, and, uh," he pauses to search your eyes, biting his lip, "I wanted to know, well I wanted to ask if, maybe, um." He stutters and trails off.

You try to help him out, "Wanted to know what?"

He stands up and sucks in a deep breath, "Are you free on Friday night?"

His question, though it was the one you had hoped to hear, hits you like a freight train. Your eyes widen and a giddy smile slowly creeps across your face. 

Jake is seemingly impatient, pushing for an answer, "Well?"

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding as you reply, "Yes, I am."

He doesn't celebrate yet, but asks, "Can I take you out to dinner, then?"

Your smile stretches even further across your face, "Yeah, I would love that."

The biggest smile you had seen from him that day erupts onto his face. You stand there grinning at each other for a second until he breaks out of the trance, "Great, it's a date," he exhales, "could I maybe get your number before I go?"

You nod, "Of course." He hands you his phone, already open to a new contact. You type in your number and your name, making sure to add a ":)" at the end. While you type, you can see him bounce on his toes with anticipation, and it makes you smile. You hand the phone back to him and he smiles down at the contact. You watch him for a moment before you lean across the counter and give him a quick kiss on the cheek, against your better judgment, "See you Friday, Jake."

He quickly looks up, having flushed scarlet yet again. He smiles and whispers, "Yeah, see you Friday." He turns to leave, clutching his phone to his chest and still gazing at you. He runs into the door again, distracted by you, but finally makes it outside. You watch as he exits and holds his phone up to his ear, smiling as he speaks to whoever is on the other line. 

❁❁❁

Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you shut the door to your apartment. You drop your keys into the bowl by your door and scramble to fish your phone from your jacket. Only one notification is displayed on your lock screen. 

unknown number: hey gorgeous :)

You immediately save his number and giggle to yourself. You lean back against your door as you type out a response. 

you: hey rockstar :)

❁❁❁

if you'd like to be tagged in any future works let me know!

[gaylittlefantasies2]

The Rugby Fanboy.

Name: Facundo, Domingo, Benjamin and Matteo Appearance: All four men are physically fit, tall and muscular, typical of rugby players. They have short, stylish haircuts and clean-shaven faces. Their attire is casual yet fashionable, reflecting their athleticism and confident personalities.

Personality: Facundo, the captain, is charismatic and protective of his team. He has a commanding presence and is always ready to lead by example. Domingo is known for his quick wit and playful teasing, often lightening the mood in tense situations. Benjamin is the strategist of the group, always thinking several steps ahead. Matteo is the quiet one, but when he speaks, everyone listens.

Background: The four men are part of the national Argentinian rugby team. They are all in their early to mid-twenties and have known each other since they were young. They have trained together, traveled together, and fought together on the field. They share a strong bond and a sense of camaraderie that goes beyond just being teammates.

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

Name: Miguel Appearance: 1.70 centimetres, latino twink, bubble butt, dark hair, piercing brown eyes.

Age: 32

Personality: Submissive, loving, passionate, eager to please, confident when it comes to his sexuality.

Background: Miguel is a typical twink who has always been confident in his sexuality. He is submissive and loves strong, good-looking men with bubble butts. He is not ashamed of his desires and actively seeks out dominant partners, both in and out of the bedroom. His personality shines, he is known for his skill and determination, as well as his charm, he is often sought after by strong dominant straight men. Miguel enjoys spending time with his family, working out, and attending LGBTQ+ events. He is proud of who he is and embraces his sexuality fully.

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

The scenario begins with Miguel, the only one left at the party, feeling a little tipsy. Suddenly, he notices the four ruggedly handsome rugby players, Facundo, Domingo, Benjamin and Matteo, sitting on the couches, their eyes locked on him. There's an unspoken understanding between them as they all acknowledge Miguel's sexuality. Without a word, they close call Miguel over, Miguel notices there are only four seats so when he approaches them Facundo jokingly pats his leg for Miguel to sit on his lap. These rugby players all look powerful. They chuckle amongst themselves, exchanging knowing glances and smirks. As Miguel settles in between Facundo's strong legs, he can feel the heat radiating from his body and the muscles in his thighs tense beneath his own. He looks up at Facundo, who gives him a reassuring smile before leaning in closer, their shoulders touching. The other three men watch with interest, their eyes flickering between Miguel and Facundo, waiting to see how this plays out.

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

They all chuckle as they watch Miguel settle in between Facundo's strong legs, his body so close to Facundo's. They all exchange knowing glances and smirks. Facundo decides to break the silence. He looks Miguel in the eye and says, "So, Miguel… how long have you known you were into us big, strong rugby players?"

Miguel glances at the other three men before looking back up at Facundo, his heart racing. He takes a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness wash over him. "Well… I've always been drawn to strong, confident men with big… bums," he admits, blushing slightly. "And you guys fit that description perfectly."

*Facundo nods, seeming pleased by Miguel's honesty. He places a hand on the smaller man's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I see. And what about us… what do you like most about us?" he asks, a playful glint in his eye. He sits back slightly, making room for Miguel to move off his lap if he wants to. *

Miguel hesitates for a moment, thinking about what he should say. He glances down at Facundo's thighs, then back up at his face. "I like your… strength, I guess. It's really attractive," he says, feeling himself blush even more. "And your… ruggedness. You're all so masculine and confident."

As Miguel speaks, the other three men watch him carefully, their expressions a mix of curiosity and desire. They can't help but feel a surge of pride in their physique and the way Miguel seems to be drawn to it. They're all curious about how this interaction will unfold, but they also want to make sure that Miguel feels comfortable and at ease with them. They exchange knowing glances, silently communicating their thoughts and feelings about the situation.

Seeing that Facundo has given him some space, Domingo decides to step in. He leans in closer to Miguel, his voice low and husky. "And what about us, Miguel?" he asks, a playful grin on his lips. "Do you think we're attractive?"

Miguel glances at Domingo, feeling his heart race a little faster. "I… I think you're all very handsome," he stammers, looking away briefly before meeting Domingo's gaze again. "Your bodies are incredible… and you're all so strong."

*As Miguel speaks, Domingo's heart races with excitement and desire. He can feel the heat building up between his legs, and he knows that the other two men are feeling it too. They exchange a quick glance, sharing a moment of understanding and agreement. This is exactly what they had been hoping for, and they're all eager to see where it leads.

*Facundo takes a deep breath, feeling the arousal building up inside him as Miguel speaks. He leans back against the couch, feeling the softness of the cushions beneath him and the warmth of Miguel's body against his own. He spreads his legs wider, giving Miguel more room to move if he wants to. His gaze meets Domingo's, and they share a knowing smile before Domingo turns his attention back to Miguel.

*Miguel's mind is racing, his body is on fire, and he's not sure what to do next. He clears his throat, trying to regain some composure. "I think… I think I need another drink." He stands up, feeling a little wobbly on his feet, and turns to head toward the bar.

As Miguel stands up, Facundo's heart skips a beat. He can't help but reach out and grab Miguel's waist, pulling him back down into his lap. Miguel's weight presses against his crotch, and Facundo feels his erection twitch, threatening to break free from his pants. He can feel the heat radiating off of Miguel, and the scent of his skin intoxicates him. "You don't have to go get it yourself," he murmurs, running a hand up Miguel's thigh and over his hip. "We're here to take care of you."

*Miguel looks over at Facundo, a mixture of surprise and desire in his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath, feeling Facundo's hand on his hip. "Okay," he whispers, leaning into the touch. "But I… I really shouldn't." He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of the other men's attention on him.

As Miguel leans into Facundo's touch, Domingo can feel the tension in the room escalate. He glances at Benjamin and Matteo, both of whom seem just as captivated by the unfolding scene as he is. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his own racing heart. When Miguel closes his eyes, Domingo decides it's time to step in. He reaches over and gently caresses Miguel's cheek, tracing his finger along the smooth skin before letting it drop to Miguel's shoulder. "It's alright, Miguel," he whispers. "You can trust us."

*Without further ado, Domingo stands up and walks over to the fridge, opening it with a fluid motion. He pulls out a bottle of tequila, a lime, and some ice, then heads back to the couch where Miguel is still sitting in Facundo's lap. "Here," he says, handing Miguel the cocktail. "This should help." He smiles reassuringly, watching as Miguel takes a sip of the cool drink.

*Miguel takes a long sip of the tequila, feeling the liquid burn its way down his throat. It helps to steady his nerves, but it doesn't do much to dull the thoughts running through his mind. As the other men continue to talk about sex, he finds himself nodding along, even as his heart races with anticipation. He can feel the weight of their gazes on him, and it's almost too much to bear.

*The conversation continues to flow, with the men discussing their sexual experiences and preferences. They talk about how the straight guys like sex with their girls, and how Miguel, the only gay one, likes his dominant man to take him and rape his ass. The words are bold and graphic, but Miguel doesn't seem to mind. In fact, they only serve to fuel the desire within him.

*Finally, Facundo leans in close to Miguel, his breath warm on his ear. "You know, I like tight pussies," he whispers. "But I'll tell you what… I bet you have a really tight ass." His hand finds its way between Miguel's legs, roughly gripping his hard cock through his pants. "Do you want me to find out?"

*Facundo's words are met with a chorus of laughter from the other men, even as Miguel's heart races and his breath hitches in his throat. He nods slowly, feeling the blood rush to his face. "Y-yes," he manages to say, his voice barely audible above the sound of his own heartbeat. "I… I want you to find out.")

*As Facundo leans in closer to Miguel, Domingo, Benjamin and Matteo can't help but exchange glances. They're not sure if this is really happening or if Miguel and Facundo are just playing around, but either way, it's hot as fuck. They watch on, their hearts racing and cocks growing harder by the second.

*Without another word, Miguel slowly, teasingly, begins to grind his ass into Facundo's crotch. He feels the hardness against his skin, and it only serves to fuel the fire burning inside him. He can tell by the way Facundo's breath hitches that he's not unaffected by this either. The other men in the room may not realize what's happening yet, but Miguel knows. And he loves it.

*As Miguel grinds his ass into Facundo's crotch, Facundo's eyes widen and he lets out a soft moan. He's never been one for subtlety, but the way Miguel is moving his ass… it's driving him wild. He places a hand on Miguel's hip, guiding him in circles, feeling the heat between their bodies. The other guys in the room might not realize what's happening, but they can't help but feel the tension in the air.

*As the two men continue to grind against each other, the tension in the air grows thicker. Miguel can feel Facundo's hardness pressing against his own skin, and it's making it difficult for him to concentrate on anything else. He wants nothing more than to reach back and feel what's beneath Facundo's pants, to see if it's as big and hard as it feels. But he knows they're not alone, and he doesn't want to draw attention to themselves.

*Facundo's heart is racing, his mind awhirl with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he's never been this turned on by another guy before. On the other, he's worried about what the others might think if they find out. He tries to keep his breathing steady, but it's getting harder with each passing moment. His body betrays him as he instinctively grinds his hips forward, feeling the heat between them intensify.

*Facundo can't help but wonder what the others are thinking. He's never been this close to another guy before, and he's starting to get nervous. He glances over at Domingo, hoping he's not noticing anything unusual. But then, he feels Miguel move against him again, and all thoughts of worry disappear as the fire within him flares up once more. His hands clench into fists in his lap, and he bites his lower lip, trying to contain the growing desire within him.

*The music continues to play, the beat pounding in Facundo's ears as he tries to focus on anything else besides the way Miguel's body feels against his own. He's never been so aroused by another guy before, and he's starting to worry that his erection might give him away. He tries to shift uncomfortably in his seat, but it does little to ease the ache in his groin.

Miguel keeps asking naughty questions to the other guys, wanting to know if they ever would go for a sexual encounter with a man if the situation presented itself. The question hangs in the air, heavy with innuendo and desire, as he feels himself growing increasingly aroused by Facundo's movements against him.

*Miguel leans in closer to the others, his gaze flicking from one to the other as he waits for a response to his question. His heart is racing, his breath coming in short gasps as he tries to maintain control. "So… what do you guys think?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Would you ever… you know…?" His hand slips lower on Facundo's thigh, searching for skin or fabric, anything to ground him in this surreal moment.

*Domingo looks at Miguel, a little surprised by the directness of his question. He clears his throat, trying to think of something to say. "I… I don't know. I mean, I've never really thought about it before," he answers, hoping that his voice doesn't betray the nervousness he feels. His gaze flicks briefly over to Facundo, wondering if he's feeling the same thing he is.

*Benjamin shrugs. "I mean, I guess it's not something I've ever really considered," he says. "But who knows? Stranger things have happened, right?" He tries to laugh it off, but it comes out a little forced.

*Before Domingo can respond, Benjamin cuts in. "I don't know. I mean, it's not like I've never been attracted to a guy before or anything. But I guess it's different when it's right there in front of you, you know?" He glances over at Miguel, then at Facundo, before looking back at Miguel again. His heart is racing, and he can feel a blush creeping up his neck.

*Matteo finally speaks up. "Well, I mean, I guess a hole's a hole, right?" He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. "But I've never really thought about doing something like that before. It's not like I'm opposed or anything, though." He takes a sip of his drink, trying to steady his nerves.

*Miguel nods, seemingly satisfied with the responses he's getting. He takes another sip of his drink, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness washing over him. As he watches the other guys, he can't help but wonder how far they would actually go if given the chance. His hand slips even lower on Facundo's thigh, feeling for the hem of his shorts. "I guess we'll see…" he says softly, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

*Facundo feels Miguel's hand move lower on his thigh. He glances down, catching sight of the hand moving across his skin, and for a moment, all he can think about is how good it would feel to have those fingers slip inside his underwear. His heart races, and he feels a surge of desire course through him. He clears his throat, trying to focus on the conversation. "Well, I guess it all comes down to the situation, you know? If it's the right person, at the right time…" He trails off, not wanting to finish the thought.

*Domingo shifts in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. His mind is racing, his thoughts consumed by the possibilities that have been presented. He looks at Miguel, then at Facundo, then back again. His heart is hammering in his chest, and he can feel the heat rising in his face. "Yeah," he manages to say, his voice barely audible. "I guess it just depends."

*Benjamin nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's not like we're all gonna be jumping at the chance or anything, you know? It's just… it's an interesting thought, I guess." He takes another sip of his drink, feeling the alcohol burn its way down his throat. His mind is racing, trying to process everything that's happening, but at the same time, he can't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation.

*Matteo clears his throat, trying to pretend like this isn't affecting him at all. "Well, I mean, I'm not opposed to the idea or anything, but I'd want to make sure it's the right situation," he says, his voice a little shaky. "And, you know, be sure it's someone I trust." He glances over at Miguel, then back at the others, hoping they're not reading too much into his hesitation.

Miguel looks at each of them in turn, a reassuring expression on his face. "Don't worry, guys. I get it. It's a lot to think about. And if anything did happen between us… I mean, I wouldn't tell anyone. I'd keep it a secret. You can trust me on that." He pauses, taking a sip of his drink before continuing. "We're all adults here, and we can make our own decisions. But just know that no matter what, we're all in this together." His gaze lingers on Facundo for a moment, conveying a sense of understanding and support.

Miguel's eyes flicker between them, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "So, let's play a game, shall we? If you had the chance, if you could do whatever you wanted to me… what would you do? What would you like to do to me?" His voice is soft and low, filled with anticipation.

*Facundo laughs, the sound rough and low in his throat. "Oh, man… where do I start? I'd… I'd like to see you on your knees, sucking my cock until you can't breathe, that's for sure." He takes a deep breath, letting the image dance in his mind for a moment before continuing. "And then maybe I'd bend you over the table and fuck you until you can't walk straight." He grins, feeling the power of his words in his chest.

Miguel's breath hitches, his eyes darkening as he listens to Facundo's words. A small, almost inaudible gasp escapes him as he imagines himself in that position, serving Facundo in any way he desires. "Oh… God, that sounds so good," he whispers, licking his lips. "I'd… I'd do anything to feel that." His heart races, his cock hardening in his pants as he pictures it, the image so vivid it's almost painful.

The others laugh, but there's a definite undertone of arousal in their voices. "Oh, come on, Facundo, don't leave us out," Domingo teases. "What about the rest of us?" He leans forward, his eyes glinting with desire. "I'd love to see Miguel on his knees, sucking my cock too."

Miguel glances at Domingo, his own gaze hungry. "Oh, yeah… I'd love to suck on all of you," he says, his voice low and throaty. "I'd… I'd do whatever you want, Domingo. You could have me any way you want." He swallows hard, feeling a thrill of anticipation race through him at the thought. "I'd be your perfect little slut."

As the words leave Miguel's mouth, a charged silence fills the room. Everyone seems to realize that Miguel is being serious about his offer, and they're all feeling it too. The air feels thick with desire and possibility, as if anything could happen next. The heat in the room grows almost unbearable, making it hard for anyone to look away from Miguel for too long.

Suddenly, Facundo can't take it anymore. He leans forward, his body pressing against Miguel's as he grinds his hips, the hard length of his cock rubbing against Miguel's asshole. "Oh fuck," he groans, his voice low and rough. "You're driving me crazy." He starts moving faster, the friction growing more intense with each thrust.

As Facundo continues to grind against Miguel, the others in the room exchange knowing glances. They didn't notice any of Facundo's movements, but they did hear him fumbling his words. The air thickens even more, becoming charged with lust and anticipation. The thought of what could happen next runs rampant through their minds, each man imagining himself taking Miguel in some new, forbidden way.

Miguel moans into the crook of his elbow as Facundo's cock rubs against him, the friction almost unbearable. He arches his back, pressing harder against his friend, feeling the heat of his body. As he glances around the room, taking in the hungry looks in the eyes of the other men, he feels a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. His gaze meets Benjamin's and he smiles, inviting him to answer the question. "What would you do, Benji?" he asks, his voice low and seductive. "If we were about to start…?" He trails off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

Benjamin growls in response, his muscles tense as he stares Miguel down. "I'd fucking claim you, Miguel," he says roughly, his voice echoing through the room. "I'd push you up against the wall and take what's mine. You'd be my bitch, my slut, and you'd love every second of it." His eyes flash dangerously, but there's a heat in them that Miguel recognizes as desire. "And when I'm done with you," he continues, his voice dropping to a husky growl, "I'd make sure everyone else here knows who you belonged to tonight."

The tension in the room is palpable as the words wash over Miguel. He feels a shiver of anticipation race down his spine at the thought of giving himself to Benjamin, of belonging to him in this way. He glances over at Domingo and Matteo, who are both watching the exchange intently, their expressions hungry and eager. The thought of being claimed by all of them sends a thrill through his body.

Miguel's heart begins to race as he takes in the hungry looks in the eyes of the other men. He can feel the heat emanating from their bodies, the thick air filled with their collective lust. He glances down between their legs, noticing for the first time that they're all sporting hard-ons. It's clear that they're all ready for this to go further.

Miguel closes his eyes, imagining himself in Benjamin's grasp, feeling the roughness of his hands on his skin. "Yes, Benji," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the sound of their collective breathing. "I'd love that." He arches his back again, pressing harder against Facundo's cock, feeling the wetness of his pre-cum on his thigh. The sensation is overwhelming, and he knows he can't hold back much longer. "Please," he groans, "I need you all."

The tension in the room reaches a breaking point as Miguel's words hang heavy in the air. Everyone watches, transfixed, as Miguel and Facundo begin to grind against each other more visibly, their movements becoming less subtle and more deliberate. The sight is intoxicating, and the other men can't help but feel their own arousal spike in response.

The other men watch as the grinding between Miguel and Facundo becomes visible, their bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. They are all in awe, unable to believe that things have progressed so far. The anticipation builds as they wait for the next move, their hearts racing and their cocks aching for release.

As the grinding between Miguel and Facundo becomes more pronounced, the other men begin to feel a mixture of desire and jealousy. They want what Miguel and Facundo have, but they also want to be the one to claim Miguel. Domingo, in particular, finds it difficult to control his lust as he watches his friend's body move so expertly against Facundo's.

Miguel feels the weight of their collective gaze as he and Facundo begin to move more openly against each other. The pleasure building inside him is almost unbearable, and he knows he can't hold back much longer. As he looks up at the other men, his eyes meet Domingo's, and something flashes between them. It's a silent understanding, a shared desire that can't be ignored any longer.

The tension in the room grows thicker as Domingo feels his desire for Miguel reach a breaking point. His gaze locks onto Miguel's body, unable to look away as he watches Miguel writhe against Facundo. The violence of his lust overwhelms him, and he bares his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

Domingo watches as Miguel and Facundo continue to grind against each other, their bodies moving in perfect sync. His own desire for Miguel has reached a fever pitch, and he can't help but feel jealous of the intimacy they share. Suddenly, he has an idea. "Miguel," he says, "I dare you to take your shorts off and give Facundo a lapdance." The words slip out before he can even think about them, but once they're out there, he knows he has to see it through.

Miguel feels a surge of arousal as Domingo's words wash over him. He looks down at Facundo, who is watching him intently, waiting for his response. He can see the hunger in Facundo's eyes, and he knows that this is what he wants. He takes a deep breath, gathering his courage, and nods. "Okay," he says, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I'll do it."

Miguel begins to unbutton his shorts, slowly revealing his hardening cock beneath. His movements are sensual and deliberate, taunting the other men with a glimpse of what they can't have yet. As he pushes his shorts down his hips, he steps out of them, standing before them completely naked except for his shoes. His cock stands proudly erect, leaking pre-cum in anticipation of what is to come.

Miguel takes Facundo's hands in his and places them on his waist, guiding them up to his chest. He arches his back, pressing his body against Facundo's as he grinds against him, feeling the heat of their skin mingling together. The other men watch in awe as Miguel begins to dance for Facundo, moving his hips suggestively and gyrating his ass in Facundo's hands. His muscles flex and ripple beneath his smooth, tan skin, drawing gasps of admiration from the others.

As the others watch on, transfixed by the erotic display before them, Miguel finishes undressing, taking his shorts off and ending up only wearing a jockstrap. The contrast between his naked body and the black, stretchy fabric is striking, drawing even more attention to his hardening cock and muscular thighs. He continues to dance for Facundo, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony as they share this intimate moment.

Facundo feels the heat coming from Miguel's body and his cock is harder than ever. He can't believe this is happening and that he's the one who gets to feel this close to him. He grips Miguel's hips, feeling the muscles move beneath his fingers as Miguel dances for him. His gaze travels up and down Miguel's body, taking in every detail, every curve, every muscle. He wants to destroy Miguel's asshole. He wants to feel him wrapped around his cock, squeezing it, milking him dry. He wants this more than anything.

The other guys watch on, their breathing becoming more labored as they see the two of them together like this. Their own cocks are rock hard, leaking pre-cum onto their shorts, and they know that soon enough it's going to be their turn too. They can't help but feel jealous of Facundo, but at the same time they're grateful for this opportunity to be a part of something so special. They exchange glances, their eyes full of desire and anticipation.

As Miguel continues to dance for Facundo, he senses the other men in the room becoming more and more aroused. He glances over his shoulder and catches sight of their hard cocks straining against their shorts, their eyes fixed on him. Unaware of what's about to happen, he focuses on making Facundo feel good, grinding his hips against him and gripping his ass tightly.

The tension in the room is palpable as Miguel dances facing the other guys. Their arousal is almost tangible, and they can't help but watch every move he makes, wishing it was them being touched and worshiped like that. Facundo, unable to control himself any longer, lays back on the couch, unbuttons his shorts and starts taking his underwear off. To release his monster. Miguel doesn't notice.

Miguel feels Facundo's grip on his hips tighten as he lays back on the couch, exposing his hardening cock. Miguel turns his head slightly to see what Facundo is doing, and his eyes widen in surprise when he sees Domingo, Benjamin and Matteo starting to free their cocks from their shorts.

The guys watch as Miguel takes in the sight of their cocks, hard and ready for attention. They can see the desire in his eyes, the want to touch and taste them. It's like a switch has been flicked inside each of them, and their aggressive dominance takes over. They demand Miguel to get down on his knees and start sucking Facundo's cock. Their voices are rough, their breath coming in harsh gasps as they watch Miguel's reaction.

Miguel feels a surge of arousal unlike anything he's ever experienced as he watches the four men around him grow more and more dominant. He drops to his knees and reaches out, wrapping his hand around Facundo's cock. "Yes," he whispers, "I'll take care of you." As he begins to stroke him, he can't help but look over at the other men and see their underwear and shorts pushed down around their ankles, revealing their hard cocks pointing upwards. He feels a dry orgasm building inside him, just from the sight of them.

Miguel, unable to contain his desire any longer, slowly starts to touch Facundo from his feet upwards. His hands are shaking with anticipation as he traces lines up Facundo's legs, over his stomach and finally stopping at his hard cock. He looks up at Facundo, waiting for permission to continue.

The three remaining men watch, aroused and excited, as Miguel slowly begins to stroke Facundo's cock. Their own erections are now fully visible, leaking pre-cum onto the carpet beneath them. They can't help but stare at Miguel's exposed asshole, which is winking at them, begging to be taken.

As Miguel continues to stroke Facundo's cock, he feels his grip tightening around him. He glances up, meeting Facundo's eyes. There's a moment of understanding between them as Facundo nods, giving Miguel permission to do more. With a lustful growl, Miguel lowers his head, taking Facundo's cock into his mouth.

As Miguel sucks on Facundo's cock, Facundo arches his back, moaning loudly. He looks over at his friends, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Guys," he pants, "I think it's time we let Miguel know how much we appreciate this." The three men nod in agreement, their cocks twitching in anticipation.

Miguel feels a thrill of excitement run through him as he hears Facundo's words. He pulls off Facundo's cock and looks up at the other men, meeting their eyes one by one. A flush of arousal spreads through his body as he anticipates what they might do next. He can't help but wonder if they'll all want a turn or if they'll let him continue to service Facundo. The tension in the room is palpable, and Miguel is eager for them to take the next step.

Facundo smirks, watching as the other three men look Miguel up and down. "Why don't you show him, boys?" he says with a grin, nodding towards Miguel. "He's done a good job with me so far." The three men exchange knowing glances before they begin to move forward.

Domingo steps forward first, his hard cock swaying in front of him. He moves closer to Miguel, lowering himself to his knees in front of Miguel's exposed ass. With one hand, he reaches out to stroke Miguel's cheek, feeling the warmth and smoothness of his skin. With the other, he reaches between Miguel's legs, positioning his cock at the entrance to Miguel's ass.

Miguel feels Domingo's hot breath on his neck as he moves closer, and then the sensation of his hand on his ass. He shudders with anticipation as he feels the head of Domingo's cock pressing against his entrance. He's never been fucked before, but something deep inside him wants this - wants all of them. With a moan, he arches his back, offering himself to Domingo.

Domingo grins, taking Miguel's invitation as permission to continue. He spits on his cock, lubricating it before pushing forward, slowly but surely penetrating Miguel's tight ass. Miguel lets out a gasp as he feels the invasion, both painful and exquisitely pleasurable at the same time.

The three remaining men watch as Domingo begins to fuck Miguel, their cocks twitching in time with the thrusts. Benjamin and Matteo exchange looks, each wanting to feel the warmth of Miguel's body around him. As they watch, Domingo picks up speed, his hips slamming into Miguel's ass with each stroke. Miguel cries out in pleasure, the sensation overwhelming him as he feels so full and wanted.

Miguel feels in heaven with this really hot men fucking him. His body responds instinctively to Domingo's rough thrusts, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he takes him deeper and deeper. He arches his back, offering himself up fully, and lets out a moan of pleasure that fills the room.

As Domingo continues to pound into Miguel, he can't help but look over at Facundo and the other two men. With a grin, he says, "Miguel is really tight… it feels so good." He glances back down at Miguel, who is moaning and writhing beneath him. "I never thought it could feel this good…"

Miguel, still unable to process the overwhelming sensations, feels his body respond even more intensely to the stimulation. He can feel every thrust of Domingo's hips against his ass, the skin-on-skin contact heightened to an almost unbearable level. The warm breath on his neck, the salty taste of sweat on their skin, the roughness of their movements, and the deep, guttural grunts they make as they take him… it's all too much, but in the best possible way.

As Domingo continues to pound into Miguel, Benjamin and Matteo can't help but feel their arousal building. They exchange glances once more, each man's lust clear in his eyes. Unable to contain themselves any longer, they slowly begin to stroke their cocks, watching as the other man's hips thrust in time with Domingo's. The sight of Miguel's ass being taken so roughly, the sounds of his moans, and the smell of sweat and sex in the air only serve to heighten their excitement.

Facundo, still lost in the pleasure of Miguel's blowjob, doesn't seem to notice the growing arousal of the other men. He continues to hold Miguel's head in place, thrusting roughly into his mouth, as his hips begin to move faster and faster. The sensation of Miguel's tongue dancing around his cock is overwhelming, and he can feel himself getting close to climaxing.

The sensation of Miguel choking on Facundo's cock as he's fucked by Domingo is exquisite for all of them. It's a reminder of the depth of their connection and the power that they hold over Miguel. The sounds of his choking, the desperate way he tries to breathe, the way his body trembles with pleasure… it's all too much.

Miguel's head spins as he feels the force of Domingo's thrusts and the tightness of Facundo's cock in his throat. His body is a mass of conflicting sensations, pleasure and pain melding together in a way that's almost too intense to bear. He can feel the heat from the other men's bodies, their sweat-slick skin sliding against his own, and the roughness of their movements only serves to heighten the sensations coursing through him.

Just as Miguel is about to black out from the sensory overload, Facundo tenses up and lets out a hoarse cry. He comes, filling Miguel's mouth with his hot seed. The taste is bitter and salty, and Miguel can feel it trickling down his throat as he struggles to breathe.

As Facundo's orgasm subsides, he pulls his softening cock from Miguel's mouth, panting heavily. He glances over at Domingo, who is still pounding into Miguel, their bodies moving together in a rhythmic dance of dominance and submission. Then, he looks at Benjamin and Matteo, their eyes meeting for a moment before he arches an eyebrow.

Benjamin and Matteo exchange a look, their expressions a mix of lust and admiration. They watch as Domingo continues to fuck Miguel, his muscular body flexing with each thrust. The sounds of their flesh slapping together, the wet smacking noises as Domingo's cock plunges in and out… it's all too much.

Unable to contain themselves any longer, Benjamin and Matteo move forward, flanking Miguel on either side. They reach down, grabbing his hips and lifting him up, exposing his ass to Domingo's thrusts. "Fuck him harder," Facundo growls, his voice thick with desire. "Make him feel it."

Domingo takes this as an invitation, and with renewed vigor, he starts pounding into Miguel harder. He angles his hips, thrusting deeper and deeper, feeling his own cock press against Miguel's prostate with each stroke. The sounds of their flesh slapping together, the wet smacking noises as Domingo's cock plunges in and out… it's all too much.

Miguel cries out as Domingo's thrusts become harder and deeper, hitting his prostate with each stroke. The sensation is overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He feels himself growing closer and closer to orgasm, his muscles tensing up in anticipation. His vision blurs, his thoughts spinning out of control as he tries to focus on the feelings washing over him.

Domingo, lost in the heat of the moment, begins to fuck Miguel harder, his hips slamming into Miguel's ass with punishing force. He growls in pleasure as he feels Miguel's muscles clench around his cock, desperately trying to get more of him. The head of his cock hits Miguel's prostate again and again, sending wave after wave of pleasure through his body.

As Domingo's passion reaches a fever pitch, he decides to take matters into his own hands. With a quick motion, he reaches around and grabs Miguel's throat, cutting off his air supply. The sudden lack of oxygen sends a wave of panic through Miguel's body, heightening his senses even further.

Miguel arches his back, his muscles tensing as he feels Domingo's hand grip his throat. The lack of air sends his senses reeling, making every touch, every thrust feel that much more intense. He cries out, his voice muffled by Domingo's grip. His body trembles with the effort to hold back his orgasm, but it's no use. The sensation of being choked and fucked at the same time is too much.

Miguel's entire body goes tense as he feels the release of his orgasm. His cock throbs inside the jockstrap, leaking onto his skin as his seed spurts out. He can feel it dripping down his thigh, warm and sticky. His vision blurs, his muscles weak as he tries to catch his breath. Domingo, still buried deep inside him, begins to shudder as well, his hips bucking wildly as he comes.

The others watch as Miguel's body quivers with pleasure, his orgasm wracking his body. Domingo's hips continue to thrust, his cock twitching as he releases his seed deep inside Miguel. Finally, he collapses against Miguel's back, his breath ragged and his muscles spent.

As the two men catch their breath, the others gather around them, congratulating Domingo on his victory and praising Miguel for being such a magnificent whore. They exchange playful slaps and punches, laughing and shouting in the throes of their post-orgiastic bliss.

Domingo, still somewhat dazed from the intensity of his orgasm, smirks at the others. "You guys have got to try it now that you can," he says, a note of challenge in his voice. "This pussy is fucking amazing."

The others nod in agreement, their own arousal still simmering beneath the surface. Facundo and Domingo, however, are feeling too drained and satisfied to continue the game right now. With a wink at the others, they slip away to another room to continue partying and catch their breath.

Miguel, still feeling the aftershocks of Domingo's orgasm deep inside him, gratefully accepts the praise and attention. He's not sure he has it in him to continue, but he's willing to play along for a bit longer. "I'm just glad I could be of service," he pants, the words coming out slurred from the lack of air.

Seeing Miguel's exhausted state, Benjamin and Matteo exchange knowing glances. "Come on, Miguel," Benjamin says, offering him a hand up. "We'll take you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up."

[dreaming-about-seireitei]

Imagine how would the Bleach men react to normal jobs tho...

So I was thinking about how would life be if their s/o had normal jobs and they had to get used to it. Because think about it. For example, I'm working in a pet grooming salon, right?

So it's kinda obvious Komamura would most likely love it, would probably ask for some "stylish" haircuts from time to time and would visit it.

But think about Byakuya. Who probably wouldn't understand what exactly the s/o does for those pets, and once he got it he would accept the "majesty" of those pets who get special treatment. Might even consider getting one just to take it to the groomer.

Or Toshiro, who would be very much okay with it, until he finds hair in the house or on clothes and would get annoyed by it everytime a little more. But he would pay visits and get over it once he sees some cute dogs that love him (and he likes them too, but won't admit it).

I'm even considering Renji, who wouldn't mind the hair at all, and would like to help around the salon, mostly because i think he'd have fun every time the dogs would shake after a bath or would make fun of his s/o for struggling to move the big dogs from a part to another.

Ikkaku would need so much explaining as to why this job even exists, and wouldn't really like it that much until eventually he'd pay a visit and would meet his Nemesis. A small bichon who very much likes to bite and pretend is sent by the devil to this earth. And he would see that as a challenge. He would give it his absolute ALL to bathe and blow dry it. And after that he would keep coming to face the challenges.

And Yumichika! Just think about how much of a critic he would be every time he would see photos of the animals his s/o took care of. He'd be so interested to see the ones who have their tails dyed and would gossip on the owner like "what were they thinkin choosing that haircut AND orange tail??".

I don't know, it's just a thought.

[echo-lover]

• Captain Howzer •

(Let's talk about this exceptional soldier and a man with a big heart. I'd love to hear other opinions as well.)

Howzer is one of my favorite clones.

I love that almost entire fandom has named him a fan favorite even though his story is a mystery. A few scars on his face and a stylish haircut was enough to make us went absolutely crazy about him.

I'm curious about his past during the war, like how he got those scars. I think they look a bit like burns of some kind, or even as if part of his skin had been torn off his cheek. They're definitely not claw scars, so he might have been injured in some kind of explosion.

I think what made me like him from the very beginning was his strong character. His determination, courage and loyalty are truly admirable. I respect him for not turning his back on his people, even at the worst of times, and not being afraid to turn against the Imperial rule. He wanted to fight for what was right, no matter how hard it was.

I think Howzer, apart from being a serious captain, is very sensitive. We can see it in his eyes, which are a reflection of his soul. I see hidden pain in them and dark shadow from the horrors of war he has seen.

Howzer also reminds me so much of Rex. They are both brave captains with hearts of gold. They will stop at nothing to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

I imagine Howzer and Rex are twins (like Echo and Fives). They were very close when they were still cadets and together they stepped into being true soldiers, but they were separated when they became captains of their own legions. Rex was assigned to General Skywalker to form the 501st Legion, and Howzer and his men were sent to the planet Ryloth.

One of my favorite headcanons with Howzer is that he has a strong paternal instinct. Probably during the war, many Twi'lek kids became orphans as their villages were destroyed and their parents either died or went missing, leaving their children all alone. Captain Howzer and his men would set up support spots for these kids. They would give them food and a safe place, and try to find new families for them. I imagine Howzer comforting crying children who are afraid and miss their parents. Howzer spoke comforting words to them, being gentle at the same time, and they snuggled into his arms with full trust.

I also see Howzer as a loving partner and caring father of his own children. I imagine that during the war he met a Twi'lek woman who worked taking care of children who had no parents, and after a while they became very close and decided to have a romantic relationship.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 548, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:

Happy 62nd birthday, green man. You are surely missed.

WORDS: 1171

“So tell me Miss Katie- do you have a handsome boy friend in your life?”

I wrinkled my nose at the hair stylist’s rude question, but Katie’s snark and blunt humor made me smile.

“I’m ten years old.” Her hair covered her face, however I knew that she was throwing the otherwise nosey man a withering look. “That is way too young to be thinking about men. Besides, you’re too old for me.”

I burst out into loud laughter at her dry sense of humor.

The hair stylish chuckled awkwardly and I pulled up the business’ Yelp page.

1.7 stars out of 5 stars.

I tapped on the first review, which gave the shop a 1 star review.

The shop is ran and operated by one person, and he was rude and intrusive- do I have a boyfriend (I’m a lesbian) is the s3x good (I’m not interested in men in that way) am I on my monthly moon cycle (why do you want to know) is the flow heavy (MIND YOUR OWN DAMNED BUISINESS) every single time I would call him out on his creepy behavior, he would always claim that being a newcomer to America was weird, that American got weirdly offended at every little thing SMH this man is a joke to society

I frowned, turning my phone on and casually pointing it towards where Katie was having her hair cut.

“I am ten years old, and what’s it to you if I had my period yet?” Katie snapped. “You are very rude!”

“These kind of questions are not rude in my home country. Americans are so easy to offend!”

“Well then, why don’t you just return back there then?” Katie demanded to know in a hot tone of voice.

I immediately started to look for the nearest haircut establishment and found one four doors down.

I looked up just as the hair stylist was trying to show Katie a picture of someone.

“He would make a wonderful husband for you- he loves cats!”

“Sir, that’s enough.” I stood straight up and marched over to my daughter. “Katie, remove your cape at one. We’re taking our business elsewhere.”

I quickly gathered her up before we left, my cell phone still recording. I ushered her over towards the hair salon that I found, the both of us entering the fun, hip establishment.

“Hi there! Do you have an appointment?”

“We came from right down the street, and-” I started to explain.

“Say no more. I can take you back now. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Katie jumped up into a chair, having a cape tossed around her.

“I’m having my hair turned into a wig for my sister!” she explained. “She has Alopecia!”

“Have you heard of the New York Alopecia Society?”

“We have, yes,” I said, settling myself into a seat nearby. “It’s where we will send her hair once it’s cut.”

“Well, you’ll need to have at least eight ounces of hair measuring ten inches or more from tip to end. I should know as how I myself have Alopecia.”

“You do?” Katie asked, delight in her eyes as the woman removed her wig for Katie to examine.

“I do, yes.” The hair stylist took her into the back to wash her hair, and I posted the video that I had recorded of the inappropriate little man at Little Haircut Inc. up onto my Instagram.

@Mary_Claire_Ratajczyk_Official, well Katie decided that she wanted a haircut, and this was the man who did her hair… at @littlehaircutinc

#SMH #umprofessional #rudelittleman #blamingamericanculture #incel #wtf #NOTMYDAUGHTERBITCH

@kellykent, EW GROSS

@petesteele4ever, toxic masculinity at its finest. I am so sorry that you went through this.

@Pete­r_Steele===========8) LOL Peter would lose his SHIT when you tell him about this clusterfuck of a human being!

@john316, hey there! We would love to partner with you and have you help us spread the word about our LORD AND SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST THE LORD! Send us a DM for more info!

@chocolaterobotchicken, ATTA GIRL KATIE! MAKE THAT FUCKING JACKASS FEEL THE BURN OF YOUR WORDS

@lzziegreen, if that fucking creep feels the need to be a fucking creep, then he SHOULD go back to his home country!

I smirked at the result of the shop owner of Little Haircuts Inc. being inappropriate towards my daughter, the FaceBook and Instagram quickly being swamped by Type O Negative fans and PeteClaire shippers who were infuriated at the salon owner’s inappropriate behavior with Katie.

“Karma is a bitch, you fucking pathetic little man,” I muttered before turning back to Katie and the hairdresser, who had introduced herself as Sally. Sally was leading Katie off to have her hair washed again, my daughter handing her back her wig.

“Well, Asian people naturally have thinner hair then what’s normally required to have a wig made. In that case, what will you do?”

“I think I’ll ask some friends of mine at school if they can give me their hair!” Katie was grinning as Sally did a quick wash, her fingers gently massaging moisturizing conditioner into her scalp.

“Ah, okay!” Sally was smiling as she dried the Asian American girl’s jet black hair right before helping her up and back into the chair. “Now, what haircut do you want me to do?”

“Mommy?” Katie asked me, summoning me to quickly find the picture of the haircut that Katie had fallen in love with. Layered waves of dark brown were cut to brush the shoulders of the smiling model.

“Ah, okay then!” Sally grinned as she set Katie’s hair into a ponytail and did a quick check in before she performed the first snip.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[themalhambird]

@crossedwithblue prefacing this with a warning that its zero-research only vibes but here is how I would want hair if I was doing a TV series based around Mansfield Park. Sorry if its a bit sloppy I'm ill and it's gone midnight :

-Sir Thomas- Wig/close cropped blonde hair. I want him wearing his wig in most scenes but I need him to have it off when he's offering to break Maria's engagement to Rushworth.

-Lady Bertrm- covered with fancy caps.

-Mrs Norris- second hand fron Lady Bertram

-Maria and Julia- identical until their rivalry over Henry Crawford gets going, then diverging in to two different styles. Julia's hairstyle returns to "normal " Once she's over Crawford, but Maria's "heart eyes at Henry" do is here to stay

-Fanny- Good cases have been made for Fanny having short hair  and I could go with that, but pre-haircut (and post if it grows out again) her hairstyle needs to be something that she could do herself.

-Edmund's hair- your classic Darcy or Bingley, but blonde. You want to give the impression that Edmund's not "in" to fashion as such, but he's aware and without slavishly following the new fads of society, he keeps abreast enough to cut a respectable figure. He's not flashy, he's just....a little more vain than perhaps he realises.

-Tom: long, slightly curling. Tied out of his face for the most part. Think Romantic Poet/Gothic hero. It might not be wholly fashionable but it suits him and it draws attention. Bonus points if he's nicked one of his father's wigs to play the rhyming butler and has that on his head when Julia runs in to tell them all that Sir Thomas has come home.

Rushworth- canonically speaking, dude's good looking. Fashionable, well cared for hair that suits his face. Brief attempt at wearing a wig that matches Sir Thomas' after their first meeting

Mary Crawford: dark, pretty, stylish. Her hairstyle should change fairly frequently- Mary tries new things, and she gets bored. The Mary of London should not wear her hair drastically differently to the Mary of Mansfield, however- the same dos, though perhaps a bit more polished or dressed with accessories, should appear in the City as the country.

Henry Crawford- Edmund's, but black. Possibly a bit floofier. Girls who are inclined toward men generally want to run their fingers through it or something idk...

[fervency-if]

If the women were men and men women in this game: what would their names be and how would they present?

I got an additional ask from the same anon clarifying that they meant "present" as in "how they would dress."

I'll put the Physician under the cut since her name is a secret to everybody but a select few. I owe her that.

It would be cool to say that everyone would present exactly the same, since I think a personal style is more interesting than just conforming to what's popular regarding one's gender, but since there are outside factors (and some that might be quite subconscious,) as well as personal choices, the results here vary from person to person. There aren't a lot of differences all in all, though. That said, gender roles aren't strict in Fervency-land. People don't bat an eye towards people dressing in gender-nonconforming ways. It's mostly what's fashionable, it doesn't really go deeper than that.

This list, just as many of them, are not at all complete since there are many people one haven't met, and so on, but here are a few.

Aubrey... well. There would be no difference whatsoever. A female Aubrey would have the same name, the same hairstyle, and wear the same type of clothes. Aubrey doesn't care about anything else than what Aubrey finds stylish and comfortable.

Vesa would still be named Vesa, and I can see him dressing in either of two ways; either the very same, dresses, red lips, the all, or in a more gender conforming way; tight suits instead of dresses, a thin moustache instead of the lipstick, and hair slicked back instead of the page boy haircut, but still with jewelry and feathers. However Vesa would dress, there would be feathers and jewelry, that's for certain.

Narciso (who, for castrato-reasons, can't be anything other than a man since he would just be seen as a lovely songstress if he were a woman,) would be named Narcisa, and she would have a similar style, but use skirts more often than trousers.

Francesco would be Francesca, and she would dress the same; dapper, and with her hair tied up in a ponytail, but instead of a moustache, she would pluck her eyebrows thin and high.

Bess would be Eli, short for Elliot, since Bess is short for Elisabeth, and he would still be a dashing dandy with a fine top hat, but do some things differently. Eli would wear fancy pearl necklaces instead of fancy cravats, but his hair would be shorter and with sideburns instead of Bess' long, braided hair.

Bryars would still be named Bryars, and she would dress the same. There hasn't been much said about Bryars' personal style yet, but Bryars loves wearing suspenders. If it's cold outside, Bryars wears long trousers, and if it's hot, Bryars wears either shorter trousers or skirts, regardless of gender. Comfort before all. Comfort and suspenders, that is.

The same goes for Maryam, or Marlin, as she would be named if she was a man. Maryam and Bryars dress similar to one another; they're not related, but they basically see themselves as twins. They grew up together and loved to dress similar to one another to show their friendly and familiar connection. They aren't certain of who started the "suspenders as our signature style"-thing.

Lucille Celestina would be Lucian Celestino (with the nickname Luke or... I'm not certain.) I think he would wear a royal blue tuxedo; he would look lovely in a royal blue dress, but I imagine the Physician to be quite gender-conforming regarding how they dress. He would still have equally long hair, though.

[denimbex1986]

'It’s difficult to picture now, but there was a time before lads across the nation emerged from barbershops with drastic undercuts; a time when flat caps were a staple of rural barge pilots only and the phrase ‘peaky blinder’ was little more than gibberish. Stephen Knight’s BBC crime drama changed all of that almost overnight. Debuting on 12 September 2013, Peaky Blinders introduced us to the coal and smoke-blackened streets of post-WW1 Birmingham from which the Shelby family – led by Cillian Murphy’s haunted Tommy – planned their criminal rise.

In the decade since, the show has enjoyed an embarrassing and slightly gauche degree of popularity. Alongside the BAFTAs and critical praise, the show’s influence has resulted in barber-frustrating requests for a ‘Peaky Blinders haircut’, the resurgence of outdated headwear and other 1920s staples. Then there's Blinders-themed weddings, bars, beers and fan festivals; Tommy Shelby tattoos, a cruise, and even, according to the Office for National Statistics, a rise in babies named after characters from the show. Of course, merchandising has very little to do with the quality of the programme itself, but it is all swirled up in the show’s legacy. Which begs the question: at its core, is Peaky Blinders actually any good, or is it really a bit naff? Another ten years from now, will we still be talking about it?

First, the good stuff. In the late Helen McCrory, in Cillian Murphy and Natasha O’Keeffe, Blinders features some of the best performances on British television, even as some of its more famous guests spend their time chewing the period scenery. As the series (and decades) progress, it is an increasingly stylish show, both in its wardrobe and set design. Knight’s desire to take a sober-faced look at real-life events, like the rise of the British Union of Fascists, is laudable.

Blinders falters is in its immense desire to be cool. Often, the show is so heavy handed you’re left nursing your cheek as the credits roll. Consider the jarring Radio X soundtrack. The scene where Arthur, shirtless among the hellish (get it?) smoke and flames of a Shelby parts factory is doused in red paint as he mercilessly dispatches two assailants. The neon lighting, endless effin’ smoke, the Dickens-lite monologues. In its ambition, Blinders takes bigger swings than the usual BBC fare. In its execution, it’s sometimes all a bit, well, GCSE drama.

Does the quality outweigh the cringe? The Sopranos is arguably the gold standard of a show that changed culture and stayed the course. Peaky Blinders doesn’t have that show’s humour, or its ability to go as deep into its characters and their world, but it does try. As the show progresses the tone becomes more sombre, the slow-motion strutting of it all dialled back in favour of deeper explorations of human emotion. It’s allowed more time to breathe; the villains become less cartoonish as our (anti)heroes become more real. Like Tony Soprano’s therapy sessions, Tommy Shelby’s dark night of the soul can be excruciating to witness (interestingly, his self-commissioned portrait-with-horse echoes Tony Soprano’s portrait with Pie-O-My). And, like Carmela Soprano, Helen McCrory’s Aunt Polly fights to re-centre the drama away from the world of men being men.

Yes, Peaky Blinders is purposefully pulpy. And yes, many shows have a shaky start. To spend time with Peaky Blinders is to accept all of this as best you can. But, despite its flaws, it is inarguable that when the show does gel, it catches fire. If a rumoured movie continues to build on the show’s snowballing quality, it’s likely the show will cement its place in TV history. No amount of knockoff ‘By order of the Peaky Blinders!’ t-shirts could diminish that.'