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Fix Fuck Make Worse- Part III
Tony Caito x Reader: 18+ only
Tags: explicit sexual content, kink heavy,foul language, recreational drug use, underage drinking, angst, hurt/comfort.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
FFMW 3-Preview #2
I swear to GOD it’s still coming guys! Here’s a little taste to tide you over. NSFW-ish. Note that this second preview, actually comes first chronologically. 💙💙💙
———
It's been eighteen days since you’d last spoken. Keeping your head down, you make your way to first period.
You’re flipping through the pages of The Divine Comedy, trying to find that day's reading, when in the bottom corner of one page, you find a familiar though indecipherable doodle. It might be a hand or a bird or a flower, or it might be none of those things, but you vividly recall defacing the book in a futile attempt to distract yourself from the throbbing Tony had beset on your bottom and thighs the night before.
He’d shown up at your house on a Wednesday night with mischief on his mind.
The sudden memory of his heavy hands burns hot across your skin in the same way the persistent throbbing beset on your bottom and thighs had just a short month ago.
~~~~
“Are you up for something a little different?” Tony husks, fingers gingerly sweeping your hair behind one ear. “I think you’ll like it. But I need you to trust me, and if I’m wrong you just say the word and we stop. Okay?”
His soft touch alone makes you melt, makes your senses malleable enough that you don’t even need him to explain himself, you’d agree to just about anything when promised so sweetly.
“Okay.”
He tuts, palming your cheek gently, but his expression urges you to make the appropriate amendment.
“Yes, Tony.”
Tony bares that brilliant dimpled grin, all too pleased with the surrender in your voice, then throws open the creaking drivers side door, and steps out into the street. “Head around back and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there in a second.”
The command comes without a second glance in your direction, his back turned firmly towards you while he checks that the coast is clear.
Tony sticks his neck out as he looks left, then right, then left again, scanning the vacant lot he’d parked you in as if his height weren’t already the best vantage point. It’s almost silly, the way he juts out his chin a bit. Still, the sharp angles of his jaw entrance you even under the paltry light of the flickering street lamp.
Tony straightens his spine and squares his shoulders, suddenly keenly aware that you haven’t budged.
“Hey sweetheart?”
It’s not a question you’re meant to answer.
“What did I just say…”
That one isn’t even a question.
Scrambling to comply, you climb out of the bin, open the bulky rear doors and arrange yourself neatly on the mattress in the back.
Your trepidation turns electric as it ripples through you. There’s no mistaking that as Tony’s desired intent, as he allows you to simmer in silence for a few agonizing minutes.
So you run the numbers in your head again for good measure, trying to piece together the little puzzle he’s presented you with.
Prior to meeting, he’d concluded his phone call curtly: make sure you’re outside and in your uniform when I pick you up.
Fucking in your school clothes isn’t exactly a novelty for the two of you at this point, so what’s the “something different”?
Tony steps around the corner to loom imposingly between the open doors of the Bin, meticulously tugging on the red leather of his driving gloves. His exceptional height means only the lower half of his face is visible, but his wicked intentions are immediately understood.
And your core is instantly dripping.
“Don’t think I didn’t catch how you ogled my hands in these gloves,” he goads. “I saw your breath catch in that pretty throat, and I haven’t forgotten about it for a second. Was it something filthy on your mind, sweetheart?”
You shudder and swallow hard; your silence likely damning you. Tony bites his lip and smirks.
“No answer? Suit yourself. You could tell me now baby, or—” One impossibly long leg steps up onto the back bumper and Tony ducks down, one arm folded over his knee, and the other palming the ceiling as he pulls himself in. He reaches out, grabbing your face in one cold, leather-clad hand. “— I could coax it out of you.”
Oh how dare he understand you so well. He smirks as you swallow thickly around an unbecoming whine.
The piteous sound escapes you regardless as Tony pulls you belly down across his lap while he claims your old spot on the mattress for himself.
With a chuckle, he flips up your skirt, delighted to find you utterly bare beneath; your underwear tightly balled up and hidden in your clenched fist.
“Oh, honey,” Tony purrs, “now you’re just asking for it.”
You’ve got a pretty clear idea of what it is.
His hand traverses the length of your leg from the bottom up. The leather drags over your ankle and calf, then up to the ticklish spot behind your knee, where he lets his fingers dance in feather-light strokes.
Thoroughly flustered, you proffer your flimsy defense, “You’re the one who told me to make myself comfortable…”
Tony imparts a firm squeeze to your thigh, a gesture of appreciation to precede a haughty, condescending response. “I love it when you listen. So…don’t think of this as punishment, try and think of it as a reward, alright sweetie?”
There's no time to process the words. There’s only a fleeting rush of air before the world blinks out around you; everything momentarily whited out by the searing impact of leather on skin.
Tony Caito wants for nothing in this world save the assurance that he’ll be loved consistently, constantly from one day to the next. You’ve never wanted to give him anything so badly as you want to give him that.
~~~
Tony and Reader (his little prize). A drop dead gorgeous commission by @artsy-moonwalker for an upcoming scene in FFMW Part 4.
UM HELLO? THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!
~Tomorrow~
Fix, Fuck, Make Worse: a Tony Caito x Reader fic in four parts (and an Epilogue)
Graphic by the incomparable @oh-bo
Explicit Sexual Content 18+ ONLY
Tony Caito x AFAB Reader, Tony Caito x Original Female Character, She/Her Pronouns.
A/N: Please see Ao3 tags for content warnings
Summary: Tony Caito is perpetually, preternaturally in the know. From trips to the nurses office to detention assignments, to who’s diddling who under the bleachers during lunch block, no student at Pinkerton Academy can so much as sneeze without the Student Liaison catching wind of it. Wondering how you scored on your standardized tests? He’s liable to know the answer to that before you do. It goes without saying then, that when a new student enrolls at the prestigious PA, Tony will be keeping tabs on them. If that new student happens to be a pretty girl, well- all the more reason for him to make it his business.
Part I
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Part II
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Part III
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Do you think Tony is short for Anthony? I can’t imagine snooty parents naming their child just ‘Tony’. Anyway, my head canon is that his full name is Anthony Caito
Personally, I think Anthony may also be his fathers name. And in that case I would say:
~~~~~
The Caitos detest the way Junior sounds no matter what given name precedes it. There’s no telling if it rings too pedestrian to their ears, or if it’s just a matter of protecting an inflated sense of pride in case the son falls short of the father.
So when he was born, their decision was firm: not Anthony Junior. Not Anthony at all, anywhere other than on the birth certificate.
They’d call him Tony. Just Tony.
Sensible, but not overly sentimental. His name would mirror the trajectory of his upbringing.
It’s just as well, really; Tony detests Anthony almost as much as he does his father.
In the spirit of Christmas here's a little gift, a slightly spoiler-y edit for FFMW part 2
I've been working on this edit for ages under the tutelage of @oh-bo (my beloved)
Fix Fuck Make Worse part one is coming this week
