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࣪𖤐 About – Arklay . 21 . She/her .
This blog may contain dark content, spoilers, and mature topics. Please read at your own risk.
࣪𖤐 Recent –
Sanctuary Beyond The Wall (18+)
The Quiet Thrill
Private Lessons (18+)
© All rights reserved to me. Please do not plagiarize. If you see anyone posting my works anywhere else please let me know!
Private Lessons 「 18+」
Pairing ⛤ Enzo Favara x fem! reader x Ceasre Massaro
Word count ⛤ 9.8k
Summary ⛤ Cesare shows Enzo exactly how to please you, and you're more than willing to be the lesson.
Tags ⛤ 18 +, Nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (m! receiving), creampie, threesome, spit roasting, I'm sleepy.
A/n ⛤ Sorry for the long wait! I was really busy with work.
Enzo guided the motorcar to a halt beside a crooked lamppost, its flame dancing in the night breeze. The sounds of the alley, laughter spilling from open windows, the clink of bottles, and somewhere close by, a woman singing in a voice honey-sweet tone.
“Here we are!” Cesare announced, throwing open his door with theatrical flourish. He stumbled slightly as his boots hit the cobblestones, but caught himself against the car’s hood, grinning like he’d meant to do it. “Welcome to paradise, Enzo!”
Leo climbed out of the back with considerably more grace, straightening his jacket. “About time. My ass was going numb in that backseat.”
Cesare started toward the maze of red lanterns and shadowed doorways, his steps uneven but enthusiastic. The wine had hit him harder than usual tonight. He’d made it perhaps ten paces before realizing he was walking with only one of his friends.
“Enzo!” Cesare called out, spinning around dramatically. “What the fuck are you doing? Paradise awaits!”
Enzo remained in the driver’s seat, hands still gripping the wheel. “Making sure the engine’s actually off. Some of us think before we act.”
“You think too much!” Cesare declared, swaying back toward the car. “Tonight’s about feeling! About living like the kings we are!”
Leo chuckled, already eyeing the doorways with practiced assessment. “Easy there, Your Majesty. Save some grandiosity for inside.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Enzo said, finally stepping out of the car. “His head’s already too big for most doorways.”
“My head is perfectly proportioned,” Cesare protested with amused wounded dignity. “It’s the doorways that are too small.”
“Right,” Enzo replied dryly. “And I suppose you’ll be running Sicily by festival time too?”
Cesare’s grin widened wickedly. “By next month, actually. I’ve got plans.”
Leo shook his head with amused exasperation. “Madonna mia (My God), listening to you two is like watching children argue over toys. Are we going in, or should I find somewhere else to spend my evening? The girls are waiting!”
“We’re going,” Cesare said, grabbing one of Enzo’s arms with wine-loosened enthusiasm.
Leo, not to be outdone, took hold of Enzo’s other arm. “Come on, fratello (brother). Night’s not getting any younger.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll keep you safe from your own good judgment.” Cesare said.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Enzo replied, but there was warmth in his voice as his friends guided him toward whatever adventure awaited.
The heavy wooden door swung open, and Cesare stepped through with the easy confidence of a man who owned the place. Leo followed close behind, nodding to the a bartender who clearly recognized them both.
“Evening, Bruno,” Leo said with familiar ease.
“Leo, Cesare,” the big man replied with a nod. “Good to see you.”
Enzo hesitated at the threshold, taking in the wave of warmth, smoke, and sound that spilled out to meet them. The interior was a revelation — red silk hangings caught the light from oil lamps, casting everything in warm gold and deep shadow. The air was thick with tobacco smoke, perfume, and the sweet scent of spilled wine.
“Oh” Enzo breathed, his eyes wide as he tried to process it all.
Cesare turned back with a knowing grin. “Not what you expected?”
“I don’t know what I expected,” Enzo admitted honestly.
“Cesare!” a woman’s voice called from across the room. A blonde in blue silk approached them with genuine warmth. “And Leo! You boys are early tonight.”
“Lucia, bella (beautiful),” Cesare said, kissing both her cheeks in greeting. “We brought someone special tonight.”
Her eyes shifted to Enzo with immediate understanding. “Ah, a first-timer. Welcome, caro (dear).”
Enzo felt heat rise in his cheeks but managed a polite nod. “Grazie (Thank you).”
Leo clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t look so nervous, fratello (brother). We’re all friends here.”
From your corner table, you watched the familiar ritual unfold, Cesare and Leo being greeted like old friends, the new man standing slightly apart, clearly out of his element. You’d seen it countless times before, but something about this particular new boy caught your attention.
Leo called to the bartender. “The usual for me and Cesare. And whatever our friend here wants.”
“Wine,” Enzo said quietly. “Just wine.”
“Wine for the nervous one,” Cesare announced loudly, earning a glare from Enzo and a laugh from Leo.
“Shut up, Cesare,” Enzo shot back, but there was affection in his exasperation.
You’d been wondering when Cesare would show up again - it had been nearly two weeks since his last visit, longer than usual for him.
Leo had already begun working his charm on two brunettes near the bar, his easy confidence drawing them in like moths to flame. The man had a gift for making women feel like they were the only ones in the room.
“Ladies,” Leo was saying to his companions, his voice carrying easily over the ambient noise, “why don’t we find somewhere more… private to continue our conversation?”
The brunettes giggled, clearly charmed by his suggestion. Within moments, Leo had guided them toward the stairs with his wine in hand, throwing a quick wink at Cesare as they disappeared from view.
Cesare caught your eye across the room and his grin widened into something predatory and pleased. He said something to his friend, who followed his gaze directly to you.
“Well,” Cesare announced loudly enough for you to hear, “looks like it’s just us, fratello (brother). Time to introduce you to the real reason we came here.”
He began walking toward your table and his friend trailing behind with considerably less enthusiasm but following nonetheless.
“Sweetheart!” Cesare called out as he approached, his arms spreading wide in theatrical greeting. “Look what I’ve brought you.”
You set down your wine glass with deliberate slowness, a smile playing at your lips. “Cesare. I was wondering when you’d show your face again.”
“Did you miss me?” he asked, dropping into the chair beside you with casual familiarity.
“Terribly,” you replied dryly. “I’ve had no one to overcharge for wine.”
Cesare laughed, genuinely delighted by your sharp tongue as always. “This,” he said, gesturing toward his companion who remained standing uncertainly nearby, “is Enzo. Enzo, meet the most dangerous woman in all of Sicily.”
Enzo’s eyebrows rose at that introduction. “Dangerous how?”
“She’s got a mind like a steel trap and a wit that could cut glass,” Cesare explained cheerfully. “Plus, she’s the only woman I know who can drink me under the table.”
“That’s not particularly impressive,” you said, looking directly at Enzo. “Cesare’s tolerance isn’t what he pretends it is.”
“Hey!” Cesare protested, though he was still grinning.
You gestured to the empty chair across from you. “Sit, Enzo. You’re making me nervous standing there like you’re planning to run.”
Enzo moved to the chair, settling into it with more grace than his earlier hesitation had suggested. “I wasn’t planning to run.”
“No?” you asked, studying his face in the lamplight. “Because you look like a man who’s regretting some recent decisions.”
“Just one,” Enzo replied, shooting a meaningful look at Cesare. “Trusting him to pick the evening’s entertainment.”
Cesare clutched his chest in mock offense. “I’m wounded! Here I bring you to the finest establishment in town-”
“The only establishment that still lets you through the door at this time,” you interrupted smoothly.
“-and this is the thanks I get,” Cesare finished, ignoring your comment entirely.
Bruno appeared at their table with practiced timing, setting down two glasses of deep red wine with the efficiency of a man who’d been serving drinks for decades.
“Your usual, Cesare,” he said with a nod. “And something decent for your friend here.”
“Grazie, Bruno,” Cesare said, immediately reaching for his glass. “You always know exactly what I need.”
“It’s my job,” Bruno replied with a slight smile before moving on to the next table.
Enzo lifted his wine, examining the color in the lamplight. “This is good.”
“Bruno doesn’t serve swill,” you said, watching him over the rim of your own glass. “He has a reputation to maintain.”
“Speaking of reputations,” Cesare said, settling back in his chair with renewed confidence, “our Enzo here has been far too concerned with his own lately.”
“Has he?” you asked, genuinely curious now. “What kind of reputation worries you, Enzo?”
Enzo shot Cesare a warning look. “The kind that keeps me employed and breathing.”
“Boring,” Cesare declared. “Safe, respectable, predictable. Where’s the life in that?”
“Where’s the sense in throwing it all away for one night of entertainment?” Enzo countered.
“The kind that makes a man forget why he was worried in the first place,” Cesare said smoothly.
“Would that be so terrible?” you asked quietly. “Forgetting, just for one night?”
Enzo’s eyes met yours across the table, and something passed between you - a moment of understanding, perhaps, or recognition.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never tried.”
“Never?” you asked, though your tone held no judgment.
“Some of us,” Enzo said with a glance at Cesare, “prefer to maintain control of ourselves.”
“I have control when it’s needed. But here I can let loose.” Cesare announced, taking a generous sip of his wine.
“Tell me, Enzo,” he said, swirling his wine with deliberate casualness, “when was the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Not because it was… required. Just because.”
Your eyes flicked briefly to the small cut on Enzo’s lip - fresh, deliberate, the kind of mark that meant something significant in certain circles. You’d seen such marks before, knew what they represented, but like always, you kept that knowledge to yourself.
Enzo’s jaw tightened slightly, his tongue unconsciously touching the cut. “I do plenty of things I want to do.”
“Reading poetry about passion and shit doesn’t count,” Cesare said with a dismissive wave. “I’m talking about really living. About celebrating properly when something important happens.”
“Not everyone celebrates the same way, Cesare,” Enzo replied, but there was less conviction in his voice now.
“What kind of celebration are you suggesting?” you asked, though you suspected you knew the answer.
Cesare’s grin turned knowing. “The kind that happens between people who trust each other completely. The kind that makes a man understand what he’s really capable of.”
“Merda (Shit), Cesare,” Enzo muttered, his cheeks flushing as he realized where this was heading.
“What?” Cesare spread his hands innocently. “I’m talking about friendship. About people who care enough to make sure someone doesn’t miss out on… important experiences.”
“Some experiences,” you said quietly, “are better shared with people you trust.”
Both men looked at you, and you felt the conversation shift into more serious territory.
“All three of us?” Enzo asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his fingers unconsciously touching the cut on his lip again.
“If that’s what feels right,” you said simply. “Nothing happens that we don’t all want.”
Cesare nodded, his usual tone replaced by genuine care for his friend. “On a night like tonight, after everything… maybe it’s time to stop being so careful about everything.”
“You know,” you said, setting down your glass and fixing Enzo with an amused look, “for someone who reads poetry about passion, you certainly took your time making up your mind.”
Enzo’s cheeks colored slightly. “I prefer to think things through.”
“Sometimes you just have to trust the moment.” Cesare declared, echoing his earlier sentiment.
“Easy for you to say,” Enzo replied. “You trust every moment. Most of them turn out badly.”
“But the ones that don’t…” Cesare grinned, spreading his hands. “Those are the ones worth remembering.”
You laughed, pushing back from the table with fluid grace. “Well, if we’re going to make this memorable, we should probably find somewhere more private than the middle of the common room.”
Both men looked up at you as you stood, and you felt the shift in energy as the evening moved from theoretical to real.
“Shall we?” you asked, extending your hand toward Enzo with a smile that was both invitation and gentle challenge.
Enzo stared at your offered hand for a moment, and you could practically see him wrestling with himself. The cut on his lip caught the lamplight as he pressed his lips together in thought.
“What have I gotten myself into?” he murmured, but he reached out and took your hand.
His palm was warm, slightly calloused from work, and his fingers closed around yours with more steadiness than his expression suggested. You helped pull him to his feet, noting how he moved with careful control despite the wine.
“Something good, I hope,” you said softly, loud enough for both men to hear.
Cesare was already on his feet, swaying slightly but grinning with obvious satisfaction. “Something very good,” he agreed, falling into step behind you both as you began moving toward the stairs.
“Merda (shit),” Enzo said, more to himself than anyone else.
“Having second thoughts?” you asked, though you kept walking.
“Third and fourth thoughts,” he admitted. “But I’m still walking, aren’t I?”
“Barely,” Cesare called from behind them, his voice carrying that familiar teasing edge. “You look like you’re being led to execution instead of pleasure.”
“The difference being?” Enzo shot back, earning a laugh from both you and Cesare.
“See?” Cesare said triumphantly. “He’s already loosening up. This is going to be perfect.”
As you reached the base of the narrow staircase, you paused to look back at Enzo. His free hand was unconsciously touching the cut on his lip again, a nervous habit you’d noticed throughout the evening.
“We can still change our minds,” you said quietly. “Any of us. At any time.”
Enzo met your eyes, and something passed between you - understanding, perhaps, or simply acknowledgment of what they were choosing.
“No,” he said, his voice steadier than before.
Behind him, Cesare’s grin widened to something almost predatory in its satisfaction. “That’s my fratello (brother).”
As they reached the second floor, Enzo glanced back at his friend, then at you, then at the hallway stretching before them.
The door opened to reveal a space that felt both intimate and welcoming. Oil lamps cast warm light across burgundy wallpaper, and a large bed dominated the room with its iron frame and patchwork red quilt. A washstand stood against one wall, and two worn velvet chairs sat near the window overlooking the alley below.
You stepped inside first, moving with the easy familiarity of someone who knew the space well. Cesare followed, his confidence undiminished as he took in the room.
Enzo hesitated in the doorway, his eyes taking in every detail - the way the lamplight played across the walls, the scent of lavender and old wood, the quiet intimacy of it all.
“Close the door, fratello (brother),” Cesare said, settling into one of the chairs with practiced ease. “We don’t need an audience.”
Enzo did as he was told, the soft click of the latch somehow making everything feel more real, more immediate.
“It’s a nice room,” he said, for lack of anything else to say.
“It serves its purpose,” you replied with a smile, moving to light another lamp on the bedside table. “Comfortable, private, quiet.”
“All the important things,” Cesare agreed, watching as Enzo remained standing near the door like he was still planning his escape route.
“Sit down,” Cesare said, gesturing toward the bed.
Enzo moved to perch on the edge of the mattress, his hands braced on either side of him against the quilt. He looked more settled now, though still clearly processing everything that had led to this moment.
“Better?” Cesare asked.
“Hm,” Enzo agreed.
You moved away from the bedside table where you’d been adjusting a lamp, and Cesare rose from his chair, the two of you naturally gravitating toward each other in the center of the room.
“Two weeks,” you said, stopping just in front of him with a slight shake of your head. “That’s the longest you’ve stayed away.”
“Business,” Cesare said simply, his hands coming up to rest lightly on your arms. “The kind that keeps a man running from dawn to midnight.”
From his position on the bed, Enzo watched this interaction with careful attention. There was clearly history between you two, a familiarity that spoke of more than just professional acquaintance.
“Busy enough to make you forget how to enjoy yourself?” you asked with a teasing smile.
“Never,” Cesare said, his grin returning as he glanced toward Enzo. “But some lessons are better taught by example. And our careful friend here needs to learn how to stop thinking so much.”
“I don’t think too much,” Enzo protested mildly.
“You calculate the risks of breathing,” Cesare shot back with affection. “Tonight, we’re going to teach you how to just please a woman. And how to let yourself want something without planning it to death first.”
Cesare slid his arm around your waist. “I know how to have fun, she knows how to make people feel good about themselves. Between us, we’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”
You nodded, your smile warm and encouraging.
You moved to stand directly in front of where Enzo sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that he had to tilt his head up slightly to meet your eyes. Behind you, Cesare positioned himself so he could see both of you clearly, his presence warm and encouraging.
Cesare brushed a lock of your hair aside, his tone turning instructional. “Lesson one. Pay attention. Not just to what you want, but to what she shows you. Every woman’s different. What makes one melt could make another freeze up.”
His fingers lingered at your jaw, then slid down your throat to your collarbone. “The little things matter more than you think.”
You stilled, breath just a little heavier now. Enzo’s grip on the sheets tightened, his gaze fixed on the trail of Cesare’s hand.
“Lesson two,” Cesare continued smoothly. “Don’t rush.”
“Patience,” he added with a flash of teeth. “That’s the difference between a man she remembers and one she forgets.”
The lamp hummed softly in the silence that followed. The tension between the three of you buzzed like static.
“Lesson three,” he said, voice firm. “Control. Not the rough kind. The steady kind. No fidgeting. No half-steps. Every touch should feel like you meant it.”
His fingers traced your shoulder, then down your arm, unhurried, deliberate. “See that? Calm. Certain. Confidence steadies her, not force.”
Enzo frowned slightly, though his eyes stayed locked on you. “And if I’m not sure?”
“Then you fake it until you are,” Cesare answered, though his tone softened. “Hesitation kills the moment. She’ll follow your lead if you give her one.”
He leaned closer to your back, voice lowering further. “Lesson four. Trust. You can guide her, but only if she feels safe with you. She has to know she can stop you at any moment. That’s not weakness, fratello.”
His hand hovered near your waist without touching, just proving the point. “You don’t take. You invite. You wait for her to give.”
Enzo swallowed, eyes flicking to yours. The air grew heavier, tighter.
“And the last?” he asked quietly.
Cesare’s grin sharpened. “Lesson five. Presence. When you’re with her, nothing else exists. She’s the center of your world.”
“Now, sweetheart, help him out of his clothes.” Cesare said.
You stepped closer, standing between Enzo’s knees. The lamplight kissed your dress, silk meant to flatter without baring too much. The hem brushed his leg as you leaned in, your perfume curling in the warmth of the room.
“I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”
Your voice was soft, steady, as your fingers undid his buttons one by one. The fabric loosened, revealing the broad plane of his chest, muscles hardened by labor, skin hot under your hands.
You slid the shirt back over his shoulders, letting it fall into the sheets. The sound of fabric against fabric was louder than it should have been in the quiet room.
You let your free hand trail down his chest past his Saint Barbara tattoo, gliding over the firm lines of his stomach. His breath hitched the moment your fingertips brushed lower, skimming the edge of his waistband.
The fabric shifted beneath your hand as you worked lower, slow and deliberate, until your fingers found the fastening of his trousers.
You undid the last button and slid down to the fastening. The fabric gave easily. You tugged gently, coaxing him to lift his hips, and he obeyed without opening his eyes, breath ragged as if even that small motion took effort.
In one smooth motion, you pushed his trousers down over his thighs. The heavy cloth slipped past his knees, pooling at the bed’s edge before you shoved it aside. Only his underwear remained, the thin cotton doing little to hide the strain that was building beneath.
Enzo’s chest rose and fell sharply, one hand still locked to the sheets. His knuckles blanched, tendons taut with restraint.
You leaned close, lips brushing his ear.
“Enzo,” you murmured, low and steady, “sit up for me. Lean back against the headboard.”
His eyes opened, glazed with heat. He blinked at you like the words hadn’t quite reached him. You squeezed his hand. “Trust me.”
Slowly, he obeyed, pushing himself back until his shoulders met the headboard. The old wood creaked under his weight. His chest rose and fell heavily, lamplight tracing the lines of his collarbone, sweat glinting at his temple.
“Better,” you whispered, smoothing your hands over his chest as you settled on his lap.
Then you closed the distance, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was sure, practiced, meant to guide. Enzo followed a heartbeat behind, careful at first, stiff, before softening under your lead. He kissed you like a man unaccustomed to tenderness but unwilling to waste the chance, cautious yet hungry to learn.
“Well, well,” Cesare drawled from where he leaned against the bedpost, his voice cutting through the charged silence. “So you do know how to kiss after all.”
Enzo’s lips stilled against yours, and you felt him tense.
“Don’t listen to him,” you whispered softly.
Cesare pushed off from the bedpost, settling onto the mattress beside you both. “Oh, don’t stop because of me, fratello (brother). Leo owes me fifty lire now.”
Enzo pulled back just enough to shoot a look over your shoulder. “You bet on this?”
“I bet on you,” Cesare said with a grin. “Leo thought you’d spend the whole evening staring at your wine glass.”
You turned to catch Cesare’s eye. “Are you planning to narratethe entire evening?”
“Only the parts Leo needs to hear about later,” Cesare said with mock innocence. “Though you might want to stop holding your breath, brother. She’s not going anywhere.”
You cupped Enzo’s face gently, drawing his attention back to you. “There’s no right way to do this. Just whatever feels good.”
“See?” Cesare’s voice was softer now, more encouraging than teasing. “Listen to her. She knows what she’s talking about.”
You kissed Enzo again, firmer this time, and he responded with growing confidence. When you shifted closer, he let out a low sound, almost a groan, and you felt the tension surge through him like a live wire.
Enzo stiffened, but Cesare only grinned. “Don’t hide it. That’s good. That’s honest. Means you’re finally letting go.”
You tilted your head, lips brushing just beneath Enzo’s ear before trailing lower. Each kiss was slow and deliberate, pressing heat into the tense line of his throat. Enzo’s breath stuttered, his chest rising unevenly as his hand clenched the sheets.
You dipped lower, your mouth against the column of his throat, teeth grazing lightly against the tender skin there.
Enzo’s cock stirred inside his underwear, leaking against the fabric until it left a sticky mess clinging to his skin. He tried to fight it, tried to steady his breath, but every kiss from your lips set him on fire.
You trailed your hands downwards, fingers brushing across the damp spot spreading over his boxers. He jolted when you squeezed lightly at the tip through the fabric, a shocked groan catching in his chest. His face flushed hot, jaw clenching, every muscle wound tight as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to feel this.
“Look at him,” Ceasre said from the chair, his grin slow and wicked. He leaned back, spreading his thighs wide, one hand rubbing lazy circles over the bulge in his trousers as he watched.
“Doesn’t even know what to do with himself.”
You slid his underwear down, freeing him at last. His cock slapped heavy against his stomach, flushed dark and leaking. He looked down at himself like he barely recognized his own body, his breath shuddering.
“Madonna…”
He sucked in another tight breath as your hand slid down to his base and your lips engulfed the head in one fell swoop. You’d be smiling if it didn’t distract you from your task of feeding as much of him into your mouth as you could.
Enzo gasped loud, hips twitching, his hand shooting to grab the sheets. “Madre di Dio—” His voice cracked, chest heaving.
Cesare’s chuckle was low, taunting. His hand worked himself slow through his trousers now, the fabric darkening with pre-come. “He’s already losing his damn mind. Careful, bella, you’ll break him.”
You let your tongue swirl gently across the head, doing your best to ignore the ache that was already settling in your jaw. You could feel his thighs trembling ever so slightly below you, trying to resist the urge to thrust up into your mouth. You cracked your eyes open and caught a glimpse of his fingers gripping the bedroll, knuckles white.
You reached up to give his hand a squeeze with a roguish glint in your eye that let him know it’s okay to feel this good.
He breached the back of your throat with almost too much ease.
He cried out, hand flying to your hair like he didn’t know whether to pull you off or keep you there. You hummed low around him, the vibration dragging another broken sound from his lips.
You grinded down onto his lower leg in search of friction, the obscenely fluid schlik- schlik noise of your mouth wetting his cock making your clit pulse. Your lips sealed tighter, cheeks hollowing to grant him the tightest suction possible as he began to feel that heat in his stomach.
“Madonna…” Enzo gasped, one hand fisting the sheets, the other tangled in your hair as if he’d lose his mind without the anchor. “So close—”
Before he could unravel, Cesare moved. He rose from the chair in one fluid step, hand shooting out to curl tight in your hair. He yanked your head back, pulling you off Enzo’s cock with a wet, messy pop that left you coughing for air. Strings of spit stretched from your lips to the flushed, leaking head.
Enzo groaned loud, hips jerking up helplessly into the air as if searching for you again. His dark eyes shot to Cesare, wide with frustration. “Stronzo (asshole) why would you-? Dio, I was-”
You whined too, trying to lean back toward him, tongue flicking across your swollen lips. “Please, I wasn’t done-”
Cesare’s grin was sharp and merciless as he held you there, keeping your hair tight in his fist.
Cesare’s grin was sharp and merciless as he held you there, keeping your hair tight in his fist. “That’s exactly the point, fratello. You don’t get to spill down her throat the first time she tastes you. We have the whole night still.”
“And you, bella… greedy little mouth.”
Enzo groaned again, head dropping back against the wall, muscles straining with restraint. “Cesare…” His voice cracked between a plea and a growl.
Cesare leaned down, his breath hot against Enzo’s ear, his smirk curling wider. “Patience. I promise I’ll let you have her again… but not until I say so.”
Cesare still had your hair twisted in his fist, your lips wet and swollen from Enzo’s cock. He looked down at you with that lazy, cutting grin of his, then shifted his gaze to Enzo - still flushed and aching, cock twitching untouched against his stomach.
“You see her, fratello?” he said, his voice steady, low enough to sink straight into your bones. “Not just a mouth to spill into. She knows how to be seen.” His thumb brushed over your swollen lip, smearing the shine of spit across your chin. “And I want you to see all of her.”
Your pulse quickened instantly, the heat between your legs tightening. His tone left no room for refusal, and the quiet confidence in it sent a shiver up your spine.
“Up,” he told you. The word alone made your knees weak. He helped you to your feet, not yanking, just guiding, but the authority behind the gesture made your stomach flip and your breath catch.
“Take it off.” His eyes didn’t waver from yours, dark and intent.
You tug the ties of your dress loose. The fabric falls heavy to the floor, leaving your chemise clinging to your body.
Enzo’s breath catches audibly, his eyes wide, lips parted.
You lift the hem of your chemise, teasing with glimpses of lace garters and stockings before peeling it over your chest. The straps slip from your shoulders and your breasts spill free, nipples already hard and tight from the cool air and the heat of their stares.
You stand in nothing but garters and stockings and panties, thighs trembling, cunt wet and shining.
Caesre’s hand strokes down your side, slow, deliberate. His tone is calm but firm. “Brava. Look at her, fratello. Her nipples are begging to be sucked. Look at how she aches for it.”
Enzo grips the mattress like he might tear it apart, eyes locked on your chest.
Ceasre settles at your side, one hand stroking slowly down your hip. His palm glides up your stomach, spreading warmth until it cups your breast. He squeezes just enough to make your nipple harden against his hand. “See this? You don’t rush. You roll it between your fingers, let her feel it build.”
You gasp softly, your pulse hammering, heat pooling low in your belly. The want twists sharper the more he toys with you, every tug on your nipple making your cunt clench with need.
Ceasre smirks at the sound, pinching harder just to draw another moan out of you.
You moan when Ceasre leans down, his mouth closing over your other nipple. He drags his tongue across the tight peak, sucking slow and deliberate until your back arches. The sound that leaves you is raw, broken, and Ceasre groans low in response, the vibration rumbling against your skin.
He pulls back with a wet pop, spit shining on your nipple. His voice drops rougher, like he can barely hold himself steady. “Dio, you always give me that sound. Every time. You feel it too, don’t you? The way you belong in my hands.”
Your thighs clench, your pulse racing, need twisting sharp inside you. “Yes,” you breathe, voice cracking. “I feel it.”
Ceasre smirks at the confession, his thumb flicking your nipple until you shiver again.
“Lean back against him, bella. Let your back press to his chest. Make him feel every inch of you.”
Your pulse kicks, your thighs squeezing together at the command. You step toward the bed, climbing up carefully until your knees sink into the mattress. Enzo’s eyes go wide, his chest heaving as he watches you settle back against him, your bare skin gliding over his as you lean into his warmth.
Enzo lets out a strangled groan when your ass brushes against his cock, slick and swollen from your mouth.
Enzo’s arms instinctively come around you, trembling hands resting at your waist. He hesitates, unsure if he should hold tighter, until Ceasre tilts his head with a knowing look. “Closer, fratello. Wrap her up. Don’t be shy with what’s already yours to touch.”
Enzo swallows hard, then tightens his hold, pulling you flush against him. His cock slides against the small of your back, slick and throbbing, smearing wetness across your skin. His breath is ragged at your ear, hot and uneven. “You… you feel incredible.”
Ceasre steps closer, eyes drinking in the sight, one hand brushing over your thigh, the other tracing lazily across your nipple.
“You’re burning up, aren’t you” Ceasre questions.
Your moan confirms it, head tipping back against Enzo’s shoulder as Ceasre and starts to undress himself.
He went to work on his vest, tugging it open with a practiced flick before tossing it carelessly over the chair. Next came his shirt, buttons slipping free one by one until the fabric gaped. He rolled his shoulders, letting it slide away, the muscles of his forearms flexing as he shook the sleeves off and dropped it to the floor.
“Better already,” he drawled, catching the flicker of Enzo’s gaze before it snapped back to you.
But Cesare wasn’t finished. He tugged his belt free with a sharp pull, the leather sliding with a hiss before he dropped it aside. His trousers followed, pushed down with slow confidence before he kicked them away. He stood in nothing but his white cotton underwear, the lamplight showing the lean strength of his body.
“Spread a little for me, bella,” he murmured.
You shifted, starting to obey, but Enzo’s hands left your waist before you could move further. His palms slid down your thighs, tentative at first, then firmer as they traced your shape.
You glanced back at him, surprised by the sudden confidence in his grip. His jaw was tight, his eyes dark and fixed on you, but this time there was no hesitation. He pressed your legs open gently yet decisively, holding you steady as you leaned back against his chest.
His breath was warm at your ear, uneven but steadying as he spoke low. “You wanted me to feel you,” he said.
“So I am.”
Cesare’s grin widened, sharp with satisfaction. “Finally,” he drawled, tilting his head to look between the two of you. “That’s it, fratello. No one had to tell you. You just did it. That’s how a man learns.”
You covered one of Enzo’s hands where it held your thigh, your voice soft but certain. “Good. Just like that. Don’t let go.”
Enzo tightened his hold slightly, his breathing heavier, his restraint fraying as confidence bled into action. His body was taut as he watched Cesare settle between your legs.
Cesare leaned in, his breath hot against your inner thigh. “Feel how she trembles when I get close?” His voice was pitched low, meant for Enzo as much as for you. “That’s anticipation. Pure need.” He pressed a firm kiss just above your knee and lingered there.
His hands glided higher, fingertips brushing up your thigh with deliberate slowness. “But see this? I’m not grabbing or squeezing. Just touching. Feeling.”
“Enzo,” you whispered, voice shaky but certain, “you see that? What he’s doing to me?”
Enzo’s grip tightened on your thighs, his dark eyes fixed on Cesare’s fingers as they traced your skin. His breath shuddered against your ear, hot and uneven, and when he finally spoke his voice was low, reverent.
“I see it,” he murmured. “I see what he’s doing to you… how your body reacts to him.” His jaw clenched, his lips brushing your temple.
Cesare chuckled, lifting his gaze briefly to Enzo before looking back down at you. “Good. You’re paying attention.” His grin sharpened as his hand lingered high on your thigh.
His fingers ghosted over the damp fabric clinging to your pussy. “Mhmm… see how wet her panties are getting? That’s her body begging. Now, watch closely…” His fingertip traced the outline of your slit through the cotton, slow and deliberate, pressing just enough to make you squirm.
Cesare slipped a finger beneath the edge of your panties, finding you soaked.
“She’s soaking through,” Enzo muttered, his eyes glazed, locked on the slick motion of Cesare’s hand.
Cesare hooked a finger under the edge of your panties and tugged, shaking his head with mock disapproval. “No, no… these are only in the way.”
With a sharp pull he stripped them down your legs, tossing the damp fabric aside. His hand lingered on your thigh, warm and steady, before sliding lower. “These too,” he murmured, fingers brushing the tops of your stockings. “I want nothing between us.”
He hooked his thumbs beneath the garters and peeled the stockings down one at a time. The silk clung stubbornly before sliding free, leaving your skin bare in the golden lamplight. He dropped them to the floor, his eyes gleaming with hunger.
You had undressed for men before, but it was always different when it came to Cesare. His were sharp and hungry, the gaze of a man who had claimed you countless times. Enzo’s were another story entirely. He wasn’t just looking. He was holding you open, keeping you steady, watching every detail with a raw hunger that made you feel exposed in ways no client ever had.
Cesare chuckled low between your legs, his eyes locked on your glistening folds. “That’s it. Hold her steady for me.” His grin spread as his fingers hovered over your slit, cruelly slow. “Keep her open. I’ll show you how to handle her.”
Cesare shifted, lowering himself onto the mattress with deliberate ease, stretching out so he was eye-level with your cunt. His head rested on his forearm as he made himself comfortable, his dark eyes never leaving you. From this angle, every twitch, every shiver, every drop of wetness was his to watch and he wanted Enzo to see him watching.
“Look at her, Enzo. ” Caesar said, his tone low and lazy, though his eyes were anything but casual. “Delicate. Don’t be afraid of it.”
Your gasp filled the room when his middle finger dragged slowly along the outside of your folds, tracing your lips without ever dipping inside. The teasing was maddening, each circle torturous.
Behind you, Enzo groaned, his grip flexing on your thighs. “Dio…” His voice cracked, caught between awe and hunger, his eyes locked on Caesar’s hand.
Your cheeks burned, your body betraying you with another rush of wetness.
“She’s trembling,” Enzo whispered, his thumb stroking your thigh without thought.
“Of course she is,” Caesar murmured, his lips hovering close enough for his breath to ghost over your cunt. His finger circled again, slower, cruel in its restraint. “That’s the point. All that heat, begging to be filled.”
You whimpered, thighs quivering against Enzo’s hold, and Caesar’s smirk widened.
“Hear that? Already whimpering.”
Still, his finger never slipped where you needed him most. The denial was unbearable, and when you bucked your hips up in protest, he only pulled back, brushing lightly over your folds. You whimpered louder, your thighs shaking as Enzo held you steady.
“Not like that, bella,” Caesar teased, voice low and husky. “Hips don’t speak. If you want it, you beg.”
You bit your lip, stubborn, refusing to give in until Enzo’s hand rose, cupping your jaw, turning your face toward his. His eyes burned, his voice wrecked. “It’s okay, tesoro (treasure). Just say it. Let us give you what you need.”
The word clawed its way out of you, soft at first. “…please.”
It wasn’t enough.
“Tsk.” Caesar’s smirk cut sharper. “Not good enough. Louder. Let him hear it. Let me hear it.”
Your eyes flicked helplessly between them, heat building until it broke you. “Please,” you gasped, louder now, raw. “I want you to touch me. I want to feel good.”
Enzo groaned instantly, the sound guttural, his hips rolling against you without control. “Madonna…” he whispered, almost reverent.
“Good girl,” Caesar praised, satisfaction dripping from every word. That praise always undid you, and he knew it.
Cesare smirked and pressed a fingertip to your entrance. It slid in with no resistance, your slick coating him instantly. The obscene sound filled the room as he eased deeper, knuckle by knuckle, until his finger was buried inside you.
Your pussy clamped around him, wetness dripping down his hand. “There we go,” he muttered, glancing up at Enzo with wicked satisfaction. “She’s soaked. You see that grip? She’s begging for more.”
Enzo groaned, his mouth brushing your ear, his words tumbling out wrecked. “I can hear it.“ His hips rolled helplessly against you, the thick press of his cock grinding into your ass with every moan you gave him.
Cesare curled his finger upward until he found the spot that made your thighs jolt. “Ah… there it is.” His tone was smug as his strokes slowed to a steady rhythm, precise and cruel. “Right there. That’s where she loses it.”
Then he slid in a second finger. The stretch burned perfectly, your walls fluttering as he began to pump with purpose. The wet slap of his hand mixed with the loud, needy cries ripping out of you, every sound raw and shameless.
“Good,” Caesre said, his grin wicked.
He dragged his thumb over your clit in slow circles, just enough to make you writhe, then lifted his gaze to Enzo. “Watch this. It’s not about shoving in and out like some desperate fool. You curl up. Always curl. That’s where she melts for you.”
He pressed his fingers deep, curling deliberately, making your back arch off Enzo’s chest. “Hear that? That’s her body begging. You don’t stop when she shakes you press harder, ride it out until she’s crying for you.”
Your breath caught, body jerking in Enzo’s hold as Cesare pressed harder against that spot.
Enzo’s hand rose to your jaw, tilting your face just enough for him to press his lips to yours, then drag them to your ear. His whisper was rough, needy, his breath scalding against your skin. “Tell me how good it feels. Don’t keep it from me. I need to hear it.”
“It feels… so good,” you gasped, your voice trembling and raw.
“Every time he touches me, I can’t think. It’s like he knows my body better than I do.”
Cesare’s chuckle was low and smug, his eyes locked on the way your thighs quivered around him. “That’s because I do, bella.”
He pulled his fingers free, dripping with your slick, then grabbed Enzo’s wrist and dragged his hand down between your legs.
Your whimper tore free the moment he withdrew, the emptiness clawing at you. “No-” you gasped, hips tilting forward, chasing his hand.
He didn’t give in. Instead, he lifted his fingers straight to his mouth, tongue curling around them slow and indulgent as he savored your taste. His gaze never left yours, sharp and devouring. When he finally pulled them free with a wet pop, his smirk deepened.
“Sweet as ever, bella.”
“Now you. Feel how soft she is, how wet she gets when you curl just right. Start slow, then give her more.”
Enzo’s hand trembled as he slid between your legs, his fingers brushing cautiously over your folds a his fingers slipped inside, curling uncertain at first, then firmer as he felt the way your walls clamped tight around him.
Cesare hummed his approval, eyes locked on the way you writhed in Enzo’s arms. “That’s it. Let her guide you.”
And you did. Your moans spilled harder, your thighs trembling as Enzo found the rhythm, each curl dragging another gasp from you. Cesare leaned back, smirking as he freed himself from the thin cotton.
“Look at you, a complete mess.” Cesare murmured, his voice low and pleased.
“Should’ve done this sooner” Cesare says quietly to himself.
Enzo groaned against your shoulder, his lips pressing hungrily into your skin as his fingers pushed deeper, learning every twitch and cry like a man starved.
Your thighs shook as he worked inside you, each curl pulling sharper gasps from your throat. His breath was ragged against your ear, his chest heavy against your back. “You feel unbelievable, tesoro,” he muttered, his voice rough with awe.
Cesare leaned closer, his grin sharp as he watched the way Enzo’s hand moved between your legs. “Good,” he said approvingly. “See it now? When you curl just right, she can’t hold still.” He laughed quietly when your hips bucked down onto Enzo’s hand, desperate for more.
Your nails dug into Enzo’s forearm as pleasure rolled through you, your head tipping back against his shoulder. He groaned at the way you clenched down, his cock twitching hard against your back.
But just as you were about to fall apart, Cesare caught Enzo’s wrist and stilled him. The sudden loss made you whimper, broken and needy.
“Not yet, bella,” Cesare teased, dragging Enzo’s fingers free.
Cesare tapped your hip, his tone commanding. “Up,” he said finally, voice low and firm. “She’s ready for more than fingers.”
Before you could protest the words slid through you like heat. Enzo steadied you instantly, helping you rise, his hands lingering on your hips as though he couldn’t let go. Your legs shook as you lifted yourself, your body still aching for release. Cesare’s smirk deepened as he stood, watching every move you made.
Enzo’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning into yours.
His cock swollen and aching.
Cesare stepped closer, his voice curling low at your ear. “Go on, bella. Show him how you take a cock. Show him why no one else compares.”
You reached back and guided him, pressing the thick head against your soaked folds. The wet slide made Enzo groan into your neck, his chest heaving as you teased him against your entrance.
Then you sank down, inch by inch, the stretch burning perfectly as he filled you. Your pussy gripped around him, greedy and desperate, sucking him in deeper until you were seated flush in his lap.
Enzo’s head dropped back against the headboard, his lips parting on a strangled moan. “Minchia, you’re squeezing me…”
Your walls fluttered around him, tight and slick, and you rolled your hips just to feel him drag deeper inside. The wet sound of your bodies echoed in the room, each grind drawing curses from Enzo and low, satisfied laughter from Cesare.
“Take it, bella” Cesare said, stroking himself slowly as he watched you ride. “Looks like she’s milking you already. Hungry little thing, taking you like she was made for it.”
Enzo groaned into your shoulder, his restraint unraveling as he gently thrust up into you, his cock going deeper with the extra help. Your cry filled the room as your nails clawed into his chest. He clutched you tighter, rutting harder, every word out of him rough and broken. “So tight. So perfect. Tesoro.”
Cesare smacked your ass, the sting sharp against the flood of pleasure. “You hear that? Start really riding him, bella.”
You obeyed, lifting and slamming back down, the filthy squelch of your pussy and the heavy slap of his balls echoing loud. Enzo composure snapped at the feeling, his arms locking around you as he fucked up into you hard, driving his cock so deep it made you scream.
Cesare pumped his cock faster, his eyes locked on the mess between your thighs. “You like that don’t you? Being filled over and over.”
“Y-yes” you moaned out.
Cesare moved closer, sliding onto the mattress in front of you, his cock already hard in his fist, slick with his own pre-come. His eyes stayed locked on yours, sharp and knowing, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
“Don’t leave me out, bella,” he murmured, his tone low and edged with arrogant ease. His hand caught your chin, tilting your face up even as you kept bouncing on Enzo’s cock. “You know what to do.”
Your lips parted automatically, instinct taking over. You moaned as your hand wrapped around his thick shaft, guiding him into your mouth. The taste hit instantly, bitter and familiar, his cock filling your throat as you gagged lightly.
“Yesss…” Cesare groaned, his arrogant grin slipping for a second as your tongue swirled his head. His grip in your hair tightened as he forced you deeper down his shaft.
At the same time, your other hand slid lower, cupping and rolling his balls just the way you knew he craved.
Cesare’s groan was immediate, sharp and guttural, his hips jerking at the touch. His smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a flash of pure pleasure, his fist tightening in your hair.
“She knows me too well, fratello. Always does this when she wants to make me lose my mind, isn’t that right?”
You moaned around him in answer, your tongue working his shaft while your fingers played with him just how he liked. His cock twitched hard against your tongue, his body shuddering at the perfect pressure, proof of how well you knew him.
Enzo’s voice was already breaking as he fucked up into you, his hips snapping so hard the wet clap of his balls echoed against your ass. “Fuck… she’s so tight, warm and dripping all over me.” His teeth scraped your shoulder as his chest crushed to your back.
“She’s squeezing like she doesn’t want me to leave.”
Cesare barked a filthy laugh.
“That’s because she doesn’t. Don’t you, bella? You love taking two cocks at once.”
Your eyes watered, spit running down your chin in messy strings, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not when Enzo was driving into you from below and Cesare was fucking your mouth like it was made for him, both of them using you because they knew you’d take it all.
Your throat stretched wide around Cesare, spit coating his cock in a slick sheen. His fist locked harder in your hair, keeping you steady while he looked over at Enzo with a grin that cut sharp. “Eyes up, fratello. Watch her choke on me. Look at how perfect she takes it.”
Through your tears and the mess dripping down your chin, you forced your gaze up. Enzo groaned loud, his grip crushing your hips as he dragged you down harder onto his cock, burying himself deep. “Tesoro,” he gasped, the word breaking in his throat, rough and reverent all at once. “I can’t… I can’t hold it.”
Cesare laughed low, pounding your throat deeper, his voice thick with pleasure. “Then stop fighting. She’s begging for it every time her cunt squeezes. Give her what she’s aching for.”
That broke him. Enzo snapped, hips slamming up as a guttural groan ripped out of him. Hot release flooded inside you, spilling down your thighs as his cock jerked hard. He clung to you like he’d drown without you, moaning your name into your shoulder as he emptied himself.
Cesare yanked your head back just long enough to let you catch a choking breath before shoving his cock back into your mouth, balls slapping your chin as he forced himself deeper. His voice dropped, sharp and commanding, dripping heat. “Don’t waste a drop. Swallow me while you’re stuffed full of him. That’s what you wanted, bella. Take it all.”
Your throat worked around him, swallowing greedily, milking his cock until he hissed. His hips jerked as he spilled hot down your throat, filling your mouth with every pulse. His hand tightened in your hair, holding you there until he was sure you’d taken every drop. Only then did he pull free, dragging his thumb over your spit-slick lips with a smirk, eyes burning with satisfaction. “Brava, bella.”
Enzo’s arms stayed wrapped around you even as his cock softened inside, like he couldn’t bear to let you go. His chest was still heaving against you, sweat-damp and hot, but his hands moved slower now, smoothing over your hips instead of gripping. “Piano, tesoro (slow, treasure),” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Don’t move. You’re shaking.”
Your throat was raw, your body weak, the taste of Cesare still lingering at the back of your tongue.
Ceasre seen you like this before, body wrung out, nerves fried from being stretched and filled until you could barely keep yourself upright.
He plucked a cloth from the table without looking, dipped it into the basin, and wrung it out with practiced ease. By the time he came back to the bed, the grin had faded into something quieter. He set one knee on the mattress, his hand catching your chin to lift your face. “Open,” he murmured, softer now. You obeyed without hesitation, letting him wipe your spit-slicked lips and the mess clinging to your chin. His thumb brushed over the corner of your mouth after, gentler than anything he’d done minutes ago.
“Good girl,” Cesare said low, his smirk only flickering back for a heartbeat before he dragged the cloth lower. He cleaned the mess between your thighs, slow and careful, not giving a damn about how filthy the sheet beneath was getting. He’d always been like this - arrogant when he had you open, but steady and thorough when it was done.
Enzo finally eased you off of him, careful and slow, laying you back against the sheets. His hands fussed over you immediately, pulling the blanket up, smoothing your hair from your face, his dark eyes soft and worried even as his chest still heaved.
Cesare sat at your side, one hand stroking your cheek, the other resting on your thigh, his touch steady and grounding.
For a while the room stayed quiet, your breathing evening out, the warmth of both men pressed close to you. Then Cesare spoke, voice low but still carrying his familiar edge.
“Well,” Cesare said, settling back with obvious satisfaction, “that went better than I expected.”
Enzo raised an eyebrow. “You had expectations?”
“I had hopes,” Cesare corrected with a grin. “But you exceeded them, fratello.”
You shifted slightly, getting more comfortable between them, but your voice is still rough. “He’s a natural learner.”
“Always was,” Cesare agreed. “Though he usually needs more convincing to try new things.”
“I told you this would be good for you,” Cesare exclaimed.
“You told me a lot of things tonight,” Enzo replied dryly. “Most of them while I was trying to concentrate.”
Caesre laughed. “That’s what friends are for - to keep you from overthinking.”
“Speaking of friends,” You said, a hint of amusement in your voice, “what was that about Leo owing you money?”
“Fifty lire,” Caesre said proudly. “He bet Enzo spend the whole evening talking himself out of it.”
Enzo shook his head with fond exasperation. “Of course you’d remember that part.”
“Money’s money,” Caesre shrugged, but his grin showed he was more pleased about being right than about winning the bet.
Okay so that little fanfic idea I posted a couple days ago got way more comments than I expected asking me to turn it into a full fic.
So naturally I’ve been completely obsessed and working on it for the past few days lol
Its almost done and honestly I’m kinda excited about how it’s turning out??
Anyway just wanted to give you guys a heads up that it’ll be posted soon! thanks for being so supportive!
One Last Appeal
Nines Rodriguez x Reader
Words: 426 Plot: Nines goes out looking for the fledgling after Ventrue Tower blows up. He’s worried he’s lost her forever. A/N: I got asked a while back to write more Nines and Vampire: The Masquerade stuff. And I did the thing! I hope you like it. I love the community for this and am happy to be here.
Nines felt the explosion in his bones before he saw it; a pillar of fire and smoke rising from Ventrue Tower, debris raining across downtown L.A. He’d known this would happen, of course; he’d had some idea that Jack would load up the sarcophagus with god knows whatever he had and blow LaCroix sky high.
There were only a few unknowns, and there was a fucking big one weighing on Nines’ mind as he limped down the high street, the scars on his face and body still fresh from that werewolf taking a chunk out of him.
Was she alive?
Damsel thought he’d gone soft, and maybe he had. But the kid was something special; she made him feel like he was somebody. He’d always been somebody, no two ways about that. His name - for better or worse - was all over the city. But with her, he felt like he mattered. He didn’t know if she felt the same; never had the time to ask. Business, then pleasure.
And now, the fire engulfing the tower, he wondered if she’d made it out. If she’d burned in there with LaCroix. He wondered if any of it would mean anything if she was gone.
He came to a stop down the street; listening as the sound of cop sirens got closer. He didn’t want to be around when they were looking for survivors and found he wasn’t quite alive. But he had to find her. “Kid!” he called out, collapsing against the brickwork of an alleyway. His throat ached in protest; his wounds were still healing and his body craved blood. But he could hardly think of that now. His head started to spin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this weak; this vulnerable. He knew dawn was coming soon and he’d have to make it back to The Last Round, with or without her.
“Nines!” Nines turned, his eyesight muddled and his head hazy. Despite that; he’d know that voice anywhere. He’d followed that voice all over L.A. He’d follow it anywhere. Anywhere at all. “(y/n)” he breathed, pressing a hand to his side. This must’ve been the first time he’d ever used her name. He liked the way it sounded on his lips as relief washed over him. “I thought-” “I know. But it’s over, Nines. We did it” she grinned, slumping down next to him in the dingy light of the alleyway. The sound of sirens was approaching; but they were out of sight. And if they weren’t, they just looked like two well-dressed drug addicts. Just another pair of ghosts.
“You look like shit” she mused, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Nines could smell her blood - copper and incense, all strange in his nose. “Been worse. Been better” Nines spat, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers “tell me you knew Jack would blow the fucking building”. (y/n) chuckled, pausing for a moment. “I…considered it a very big possibility. I legged it the hell out of there just in case. Turns out my instincts were pretty spot on”. “Jack and I are going to have words” Nines sighed, wincing slightly.
“Wait a minute-” she started, her hair falling over her shoulder as she turned to him “-you used my name.” Nines smiled slightly, his teeth pushing down on his lip. “Don’t get too used to it, kid. They’ll think I’m going soft.” (y/n) shrugged off her jacket, folding it in her lap as she looked back at the tower. He could smell the smoke on her hair; see the sharp curve of her cheekbone illuminated by the streetlamp. “What now?” she asked, her voice seemingly very distant and far away. Nines lifted a hand, brushing the backs of his fingers against her hairline. He swallowed, hard. His fangs stuck into his lip as he tensed his jaw. “Whatever you want to happen” he muttered, his eyes trailing to her lips. She turned to him, her eyes glinting.
“This” she breathed, pushing her lips to his.
***
When the sun rose and the police scoured the scene; the alley was empty. A new day dawned on Los Angeles, the sun shining brightly in the sky.
Black widow
Collab comm piece of the Coterie of Amare, Owen and Vesper for @swoomoo, @mcscrambled and @informaltorching
WOW I am pumping these out a ton today. Anyways idc this is canon to me and I’m coping. Nines beats up transphobes and idc what u think otherwise!!! <3
i'm fucking dying at some of nines' hostile dialogue
"you artist types bruise too easy" / "what are you gonna do if i hit you, sue me?" hot. also hilarious
"don't go bringing the movement into a grudge match because IF YOU DO, MOTHERFUCKER, every goddamn boot in the place is goin' straight up your ass" hilarious. also hot
enzo favara the man who has that sadness in his eyes that you only see in eastern european gay porn.
slashers | twt/X links:
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★ NSFW 18+ content | minors dni | no age in bio = blocked | must be logged into twt/X to access links | original captions do not apply
★ fem!reader x masc!slasher
★ characters: michael myers, jason voorhees, thomas hewitt, brahms heelshire
★ a/n: if you are uncomfortable watching 18+ content, then do not force yourself to watch these links. other than that, enjoy. <3
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michael myers -
★ he doesn't like to be touched, you won't keep your hands to yourself
★ soft moments are rare but he'll always have a hold on your throat
★ you have an attitude when all he wanted was some peace and quiet
★ you pissed him off when he was already having a bad day
★ he 'definitely' doesn't do it for his own pleasure
jason voorhees -
★ he's in love with the size difference
★ he agrees on taking you "hunting" on one condition 🤫
★ you decide to show how pretty his face really is
★ he marks his territory in more ways than one
★ he can't help that he's a headpusher
thomas hewitt -
★ he's obsessed with the way you taste
★ he uses his brute strength to his advantage
★ he bends you in half to breed you successfully
★ you're not married, but can't keep your hands to yourselves
★ you decide to take a break after a long day of chores
brahms heelshire -
★ he's refused to leave the walls all day and you tease him as a last resort
★ "yes, mommy~"
★ he loves when you take charge
★ he demands your attention even on your break
★ you're cooking dinner but he's hungry for something else
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Put these four in a room together, who’s walking out crying first?
In my opinion I think Donovan would be the last man standing. He would find a way to make the three of them cry using his words 😭
i’m sorry i have more to say LMAO im not gonna shut up abt this.
i knew realistically Torrisi was still a Don, still a criminal, still manipulative under the guise that “i love my family/i do this for my family”,
but… idk, his attractiveness to me VANISHED the moment it was revealed he buried + held Luca’s service while Enzo was gone. that was the breaking point for me. it was like the haze had cleared and fight or flight kicked in.
the alarm bells didn’t ring for anything else he said/did in the game, but this?
the way i mentally said “oh nah, we gotta get the fuck up out of here, we gotta GO” seeing Don Torrisi tell him abt Luca in the middle of his Ego Parade. fuck that. IMMEDIATE ick.
MAFIA: THE OLD COUNTRY SPOILERS
I fucking weep knowing Enzo vowed to never return to that sulfur mine only to die there in the end.
That he was never more than a Carusu to Don Torrisi. He was always just a dog, one day mining sulfur for one master and trading another to become a murderer. No matter how much Enzo wanted Torrisi's admiration and love, he was never "fit" for it since that day they saved him in the barn. He was never going to get it. Not really.
And the kicker? That it was Cesare who killed him there. Who dropped his dying body into the earth Enzo spent so much time suffering under. Almost like through Cesare, the Torrisi family were throwing Enzo right back where they found him. Like a discarded tool.
anyway, gonna do a little follower cleanse: please unfollow if you disagree with any of the following
fuck ICE
fuck donald trump
fuck the republican party
fuck elon musk
fuck jd vance
fuck israel
fuck russia
fuck jk rowling
fuck the whole “lgb without the t” bullshit
free palestine
free gaza
no illegals exist on stolen land
black lives matter
trans lives matter
!! SPOILERS !!
Vito when they tell him to kill the Don: So we're going to go into a hotel in broad daylight and start shooting? No, that's some fucking bullshit.
Enzo when they tell him to kill the Don (he doesn't know what awaits him):
Chapter one
Of a promised forbidden love/enemies to lovers fic with Cesare x reader.
(P.s.: If no one’s going to read it I’ll throw myself out of the window. But I live on the second floor so it won’t be deadly. I’m going to cry anyway though. So please read.)
(P.s.s.: I’m not very fond of “y/n” style of writing, so there’s just a nameless and faceless character instead.)
(P.s.s.s.: English is not my first language and I hope I didn’t make a lot of mistakes but I apologise in advance.)
~~~
This day felt like the whole island of Sicilia had died out. If you’d walk down all its dusty sand roads that were usually filled with horse carts, delivering parcels and transporting supplies, riders heading on their business, and sometimes even cars rattling their motors so loud you definitely wouldn’t miss them, today you would see nothing of these. All the farms were empty, villas silent, grape plantations left only for a warm summer breeze to watch them, running through tangled swirling vines. Not a living soul.
But if you keep walking down one of the main roads, tracking fresh traces and prints of boots and hooves, soon you’ll notice a growing noise turning into a whole ruckus as you approach San Celeste. The town was full of life, adorned and decorated with the colours of local flags, filled with flowers, ribbons and wreaths.
She was walking through the bustling fair, watching the crowd with curiosity. Women slowly paced around stalls choosing hand-made accessories and vivid clothes of all colours, while kids were tugging at their skirts and dresses pointing towards wooden toys. In one of the corners a small crowd stood around local cuntista listening to another of his epic tales, while in the other a group of drunken men loudly and lively discussed something in the most generous and diverse phrases. But the most eye-catching place was not far from the very middle of the fair. There was the biggest and the most lively pandemonium, full of arguments and chatter, because everyone had their own opinion on how the race would end and everyone wanted to make a bet of course, and here they could make one. She couldn’t help but feel elevated by this whole chaos, the motley crowd, diverse activities and goods and festive atmosphere that filled the air. She could nearly get the taste of that much-desired feeling of freedom, but sadly that sensation was no more than illusion and the girl knew that far too well.
She could feel the eyes from every corner of the fair watching carefully every step, sensed gazes on her back so tense and observant that it nearly choked her, chaining any intention and desire she could only think of. They would never appear close without any need, would never control her directly, but she knew that any wrong move would not go unseen. Sometimes her life reminded her of a cruel joke, of letting the bird fly a meter above the ground only to find itself attached to the soil by the leash on its leg. What kind of blessing it is to fly if you will never be allowed to reach the clouds?
She wasn’t angry of course. Most of the time. After all, that was the price of being safe, of being Don’s daughter. Apparently, it was not only Don Torrisi who had a child. Spadaro had a daughter as well around the same age as signorina Torrisi was. The difference was that everyone knew about Isabella, yet no one had any idea that Spadaro had a daughter except for him and his closest and most loyal men. Was he a good father? Well, how can you define and estimate good in terms of mafia business? But he was a loving one for sure. His daughter was getting almost anything she wanted, never knew trouble and was taken care of almost as if she was royalty. Don Spadaro wasn’t always there for her. He was distant most of the time, trying to keep her away from him and his business as much as he could. But he never forbade her anything, indulged even the silliest whims of hers and always made sure his daughter was safe and knew he loved her.
But Don Spadaro’s concern for her safety sometimes irritated signorina. Maybe because she could never understand the size of a danger being the Don’s daughter it represented for her, or maybe because of how spoiled she was and this freedom and independence were the only things she couldn’t get. One way or another, with time and practice she learned to escape the watchful eyes of her father’s guard dogs and the only trouble it caused was Don Spadaro’s fury crashing down on his men who lost sight of his daughter. So she did the same trick this time too.
Signorina rushed to an observation spot at the edge of the fair. There were barely any merchants, very few people and opened a breathtaking view to the Sicilian countryside diversified with green grape plantations, ribbons of roads weaving over the island and hills pointing to the skyline. That’s where she wanted to spend the time until the race would start. She moved closer to the edge of the deck and placed her hands onto the parapet, closing her eyes, feeling the warm wind and welcoming sun rays touching her skin gently and pleasantly.
— Such a nice day for a festival, isn’t it? — she heard a joyful voice next to her and opened her eyes to see who it belonged to.
To her left, with his elbows on the parapet, back turned to the valley, there was a young man. His dark hair, brushed back, shimmered like honey in the sun, an elegant and clearly expensive suit fit him perfectly, a light linen shirt was unbuttoned down the middle, showing tanned skin on his chest. He raised his bushy eyebrows, waiting for an answer, while twirling his wrist slightly toying with a wine bottle in his hand.
— It is, — she smiled at him politely, — no wonder there are so many people today.
— Of course there are many people, it’s the day of a cavalcade, what else did you expect? — he flung his hands upward, exclaiming.
— Alright, saputello, — she now turned with her whole body towards him, paying more attention to their conversation, — I don’t do all these celebrations and festivals often, so it’s always like the first time for me.
— Ahh, why not? — the young man frowned as if he understood the point and took a sip straight out the bottle. The sight of such a gesture, impudent and somehow arrogant, made her cringe, yet his tone, the way he talked to her, seemed quite harmless and so peaceful it really made her wish for their little chat to flow further.
— I have a strict father.
— Beh, è un vero peccato, — he grimaced sympathetically and offered signorina the wine, lifting his eyebrows with an innocent-like look on his face, — Why are you here then and not out there enjoying the fair and tasting out every entertainment it has to offer you?
— Same reason, — she shrugged, then leaned in a little and added, whispering conspiratorially with a playful note in her voice, — I’m hiding from him.
The man opened his mouth in a silent “Oh” on the insight. Then, just as silently nodding towards the bottle in his hand, he offered her wine one more time, trying to make an indifferent expression in the same playfully conspiratorial manner. Signorina looked down at the bottle for a moment, considering the offer, but then thought to herself that it wouldn’t hurt. Taking the wine, she repeated the gesture she found obscene and uncivilised earlier, drinking straight from the bottle neck. A tart sweet taste enveloped her mouth leaving unusual astringent notes lingering on the tip of her tongue. The man smiled approvingly, taking the wine back:
— Not bad, right? — he asked, taking another sip.
— You say it as if I’ve never had wine before.
— Bet you’ve never had one like this, — he assured, — it’s a special one. It’s not easy to get.
— How do you have it then? — she looked unimpressed, trying to find a lie in his words.
— I have my ways, — the man gave her a sly smile, then he too suddenly turned towards her with his whole body still leaving one of his elbows on the parapet, leaning on it kind of lazy like, looking laid back, — I’m Cesare.
This simple gesture caught her attention in a special way. She replied with a smile and gave her name in return, intentionally leaving her father’s name out of it.
— Bello, — Cesare gently took her hand and leaned down, leaving a careful nearly weightless kiss on her skin, keeping eye contact all the time, watchfully examining her reaction with his dark brown eyes, — A truly wonderful day it is since it brought me such a mesmerising and beautiful signorina to keep me company.
The young woman was lost for words for a moment or two, feeling her cheeks turn red. But that was really flattering.
— Thanks, — she smiled modestly and looked down, not being able to hold his bold piercing gaze.
She fell silent for a moment not knowing what to say. Cesare didn’t break this silence, but the girl felt like it needed to be filled with something, anything but this awkward nothing.
— So, why are you here, Cesare? I mean, not in the centre of the fair, where all the fuss and entertainment is.
— You won’t believe it, signorina, but I’m also hiding from someone.
— Why?
— I may have really annoyed someone, so it’s better they don’t see me today. But I couldn’t miss the cavalcata!
His tone and gestures made her laugh slightly. Placing the bottle on the parapet and stepping away from it, he went on:
— And the race will start any moment now, do you hear it? We need to hurry if we don’t want to miss it. You won’t leave me to watch it alone, will you? — Cesare held out his hand, inviting the young woman to go with him.
She nodded in agreement, taking his hand eagerly, and was immediately drawn towards where the race was to happen. As they made it there, it was already so dense and crowded, that they could barely make a sight of the racing track.
— Don’t worry, tesoro, just don’t let go of my hand, — Cesare said with confidence, tugging her straight into the pandemonium of spectators.
He squeezed through, not shying away to push and jostle, paying absolutely no attention to irritated shouts and swear words. The young woman couldn’t help but giggle, following in his steps. As Cesare made it to the front row, he tugged her in front of him, placing a hand over her waist, to keep the signorina further from the crowd and closer to him.
— Don’t you get lost on me, bellezza.
— I won’t, — she promised, not minding how close they were. It seemed normal in such a dense crowd, but she didn’t bother lying to herself that she didn’t enjoy Cesare’s company at that moment. She turned her attention to the riders.
— Who are you supporting? — the man asked, leaning closer to her ear to make himself heard in the chaotic racket of the mob.
— Why? Collezolfo of course.
— Oh, mio Dio, don’t break my heart like this! — Cesare closed his eyes in displeasure, — not these bifolchi.
— Why not? They won before and their jockeys are well prepared, — the girl looked at him frowning.
— That was simple luck. And they won’t be so lucky this time, I assure you.
— Alright, who are you supporting then? — she looked at the man daringly from under her brows.
— San Celeste, obviously. It’s my hometown and besides we have an unbeatable jockey today.
None of them changed their opinion, but both decided not to say the real reasons for their choices. The race began with thunderous applause and cheers, horses took off like bullets shot from a gun. As animals galloped past the young people, Cesare’s face changed:
— Merda, who’s that? Where’s this idiota Arnaldo? They changed our jockey!
— Seems like luck is on Collezolfo’s side again to me.
— Don’t jump to conclusions, tesoro, I think I know the guy on the horse and we might still have a chance. Only if this caruso won’t fall off a horse midway, — Cesare spat out in displeasure.
— Let’s hope he won’t, — signorina laughed arrogantly, but that didn’t bother the man at all.
— You know what? — sudden mischief in his voice made something shrink inside a young woman’s chest, — I think we should make a bet on who wins.
— Cesare, I don’t think they take bets anymore. The race has already started.
— I’m not talking about those bets. We should make our own. Let’s say, if San Celeste wins, I get a.., — he lifted his gaze up to the sky, thinking, — I get a kiss from one stunning ragazza.
The young woman rolled her eyes at his smug expression, but couldn’t hide a smile:
— You are so basic, — she said, mocking him, yet not saying no to his wish, — so be it. And if Collezolfo wins you owe me a date.
— Ooh, a date.. — Cesare theatrically frowned, — that’s serious. But how can I say no to you?
Cesare’s flirting was flat. Ridiculous. Arrogant. He was so simple with his expressions one could say it was hopeless. But that would mean that one surely never been under Cesare’s charm. Signorina Spadaro was never treated by a man like that. It was so easy for her to fall for this, yet she didn’t even fight back these frivolous, reckless feelings, taking them in willingly. She did not think seriously of them of course, but a small romantic story would be a nice addition for the day, she thought.
The young woman wanted Collezolfo to win, but it had never had the same importance to her that it had to her father with his endless attempts to prove everyone the power of Collezolfo and his own in any possible way. It is stupid and childish, she thought, when grown men are fighting and competing against each other like kids in a sandbox. So when San Celeste’s jockey crossed the finish line first it didn’t upset her. Cesare on the other hand seemed genuinely happy. He cheerfully exclaimed, emotionally jumped in place and almost mindlessly cupped the girl's face with his hands pressing his lips against her with childish excitement. It was so sudden and blunt, that signorina staggered back in astonishment but recovered in a moment.
— We won! — he exclaimed again eagerly with pure happiness and joy so big, that the young woman next to him shared it, finding herself so cheerful as she would probably never find herself if it had been Collezolfo that had won.
— Congratulations, — she said laughing and not expecting to find herself in his hands again, which tightened temptingly, insistently, tugging her into another kiss.
That kiss.. Oh, that kiss made her melt. The taste of fresh wine burned on their lips, like a fuel that met a burning match. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him even closer, as if he himself was this tart rich wine, an intoxicating drink that she couldn’t get enough of. Cesare smiled through the kiss, not fighting back, willingly giving in to her desires.
— I promised you one kiss only, — the girl said, pulling away and looking into the dark warmness of his eyes.
— And I got one kiss only, tesoro, — a mocking innocence played in his voice, — that one before was no more than a babyish smooch.
She laughed again for God knows what number of times today. It seemed so easy next to him. And Cesare found himself enjoying her laugh more and more each time he could hear it.
— Let’s go now, — he said, taking signorina’s hand and making their way out of the crowd.
— Where?
— I can’t stand seeing you sad, — he said, tugging her out of the pandemonium and meeting her lost gaze with a mischievous smile, — You were so upset about Collezolfo losing the race, so I decided to give you your prize anyway.
— What? — she laughed at his silly excuse, as Cesare led her toward the main gates which led out of the town.
— Come on, signorina, you know how to ride a horse, right? — he asked, untying two horses from the hitching post that was placed right in the way out of the town.
— I do, — she held back her laughter, — Whose horses are that?
— I don’t know, — Cesare shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
— Are we going to steal someone’s horses? — she asked, shocked, yet amused by how simple it was for him.
— Yes, hop on, — Cesare helped her onto the horse leaving her no space for hesitation but she just laughed once more in return, making him admire the girl in front of him even more.
They took off as soon as they both were on horses, laughing against the wind that warmly touched their faces as they galloped away from the town, leaving all the party behind just to enjoy each other’s company. They rode for a while, talking nonsense, joking and flirting, racing each other as if they were kids that escaped the stern gaze of their strict parents. And for one of them it was almost the truth.
Cesare came up to her so close, he wrapped his hands around the girl's body tugging her back with him. Not expecting some weird movement on their back, horses took off frightened, making their jockeys fall to the ground losing balance in their saddles.
— What are you doing? — signorina yelled, landing onto Cesare as he was still holding her firmly in his hands, taking the worst of their fall on himself, but laughing so loud he could barely breathe, — idiota!
The young woman, still locked securely in the grip of his strong hands, turned her head towards the horses, to find animals standing alerted not far from them with their nostrils wide from their hot breaths, but it was just a moment passed before they lowered their heads towards the dry grass, paying no attention to the people, who lay on the ground in each other’s hands, one laughing so hard as if he was out of his mind, and another instantly picking up his laughter, being infected by his reckless insanity.
~~~
As the night fell, they found themselves on the road again, Cesare keeping her company, taking the young signorina home.
— Wait, where are you going? — he asked, stopping his horse suddenly as the woman took an unexpected turn on a crossroad.
— What do you mean? I’m going home, — she answered simply, smiling at the silliness of his question.
— Ahh, merda.. I’m sorry, I can’t follow you there, tesoro, — Cesare sounded both irritated and concerned.
— Why not? — she lifted her eyebrow, being for a moment being completely lost in search of reasons for his words.
— I’m not allowed in this territory. It belongs to Spadaro.
— And you are a Torrisi’s man? — her eyes widened with a sudden realization. How come she had never thought of it throughout the day? How this obvious truth was hidden from her and she carelessly paid no attention?
— Don Torrisi is actually my uncle, tesoro, — he acknowledged.
This struck her as a lightning, piercing through every nerve in her body. She spent a whole day with her father’s enemy, with one of the hostile family. Cesare didn’t miss a sudden change in her face:
— But don’t get frightened, tesoro, I don’t know what you heard, but we are good men. I would never hurt such a beautiful woman like you, — he assured her, being blindly confident that he just solved the very problem.
She smiled politely at Cesare, muttering silent goodbyes and anxiously sending her horse away, getting a feeling she must get away as soon as possible. Suddenly all the fears layered in her buzzing mind: what if someone saw them, what if he knows who she really is, what if her father already knew?.. She couldn’t stop all these noisy disturbing thoughts that made her head hurt.
— Wait, bellezza, — Cesare called her, the panic of the thought of her leaving was way to obvious in his voice and he made no effort to hide it, — when will we meet again?
— I don’t know, — devastation crushed her voice, but she masked it with a soft rueful smile, — Let the Lord decide.
She urged her horse away, anxiety growing in her chest as a storm, coming in waves. Cesare called out to her again hopelessly, fighting the impulse to rush after the young signorina despite the restrictions, but he knew it could cost him too much. So he just prayed for the Lord to make his decision right.
~~~
The ones who made it here, thank you so much. Let me know what you think of it and whether I should go on.
I know I promised enemies to lovers and stuff, but it turned out to be some kind of a short summer-teenage-love-story. Trust me, it’s getting there, this is only the beginning. And I guess you can see already where I am going with it.
Anyway, thank you for readying,
Yours to the grave. 🖤
