#diego jimenez imagine

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 3

Day Two | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Four

Pairing: Diego Jimenez x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Reader is the monster; vampirism; mention of drug use; mention of alcohol consumption; blood drinking (because vampires); vaginal sex

You’ve got the itch. It’s not that you’re hungry to feed, it’s that you’re looking to turn. You’re lonely—and you’re young. You’ve only been a vampire for half a century. There aren’t many of your kind that you know. Your maker disappeared just as soon as you’d wet your fangs and gotten your bloodlust under control. You’ve been rudderless ever since—drifting and desolate in New York’s thriving night scene.

The only thrills that you feel these days come from the odd chase—when someone that you’re feeding on wants to make a game of it and runs. That happens when they don't truly understand what you are, the powers that you possess: your speed, your senses, your strength. But besides that, well...Not much brings you joy. Months pass like minutes. You’ve only been a vampire for fifty-eight years.

It was much more fun in the 80s—busier, more colorful, almost. Everyone was just as hungry as you were, in quite different ways. 

The next time you have the need to feed, you find yourself seeking out familiar territory. You’re not starving, mind, you just want a little nibble. You find your way to a club, one that you’ve used a feeding ground before. It’s always full of drunks and coke-heads, and busy enough that you won’t have trouble finding anyone to nip from. You like finding someone coked-out to drink from, sometimes. You’ll get their consent, have them snort, and then drink from them once it hits. It gives you a buzz, too. Unless you drink too much, you don’t get a hangover like you used to when you were human.

Oh, hangovers aren’t as bad now that you’re a vampire; you can sleep them off for a week, burrow yourself in your coffin in your apartment (you’ve rigged it up so that it lowers from the wall like a Murphy bed). 

You swan into the club and look around, gathering your bearings. It’s surprisingly busy for a Tuesday night. You take in a deep breath, catching the muddling scents of alcohol and sweat and colognes and perfume; heartbeats pound along with the thudding of the bass. You take a few more steps inside. You’ll get a drink, first. It has no effect on you, but you still like the taste. You lean against the bar and raise your finger to the glass, swirling your finger around the glass’ rim.

There are a few prospects that you’ve spotted already, a few people that you’ve drunk from before. They’ve eyed you; one has grinned, and is looking quite interested. You enjoyed yourself last time—the blood was good, the sex was fine. But...It would be fleeting.

And at the tip of your gums, you still have that itch.

Your ears twitch as you hear someone coming up behind you. You smell something sharp, an expensive cologne, and you feel someone watching you. And in an instant—or perhaps it’s several minutes, but you never can accurately mark how time passes anymore—someone’s hand rests on your hip.

“I’ve seen you around,” A man purrs in your ear. You consider for a moment as you glance at the two of you in the mirrored backing of the bar. You recognize him. You know that he’s the one of the owners.

“Congratulations,” You offer him in turn.

He curls his hand around your hip and turns you to face him.

You’ve only seen him from afar before. Now, in this close proximity, you see that he’s quite handsome. The glint in his eye is enticing; his grin looks as predatory as you feel. When he cages you against the bar, something riles up in you, something mean and sharp. Well, you never did like being boxed in this way. So you open your mouth in a toothy grin, and flash him your fangs.

The man’s eyes drop to your teeth, and his eyes widen marginally before he meets your eyes again. You can hear his heartbeat kicking up, and you don’t know if it’s excitement or fear—until his lips widen in a bigger smile, and he says, “Oh—I’ve heard about you.”

-- 

By the time you realize that it's a bad idea, it's too late.

You know it the second you sink your teeth into his neck, as he bites into your wrist—

You don’t know how you let him talk you into this, but this man—this Diego Jimenez—is too much of a silvertongue for his own good. And as he drinks from you and you drink from him—as he groans and laps at your vein and writhes against you as your mouths stain red—Some little bit of you knows for certain that turning this man is a mistake.

-- 

Despite this swirling worry, the next morning is sort of fun.

It’s amusing, watching this man learn to be—or at least, to watch him learn to be again. He runs to your mirror, drops his fangs, pokes at them, and then frowns, turning to you and pointing at his reflection.

“Why can I see myself?”

You smile.

“Old mirrors were backed with silver, which we can’t touch. New ones are backed with aluminum, so. They’re harmless.”

The man pouts a little before he shrugs, nods, and turns back to the mirror, poking at his fangs again. He’s stark-naked, hasn’t bothered to dress. You’d learned quickly the night before that Diego is...Very confident in himself. You’d assumed that that confidence was misplaced until the two of you had gotten into bed, but he had been one of the best lovers that you’d ever had (of course, you don’t want to limit yourself. You’ve got eternity stretched in front of you—as long as you play your cards right).

You see him look down at his chest and abdomen.

“What is it?” You ask.

“My scars are gone.”

You push yourself off of your bed. You can wander around the apartment freely; you’ve already pulled the blackout curtain to keep out the sun. You curl up behind Diego, peering over his shoulder in the mirror and allowing your eyes and hands to wander his chest. 

“It’s like you’re brand new,” You murmur. His eyes shift to yours in the mirror, his smile flashing wide, revealing his fangs. You grin in turn, cupping his pecs and giving them a squeeze as he rolls his hips back against you. 

“You’re such a little show-off,” You laugh. “Are you going to get worse with time?” 

He turns, grasping your hips and holding you tightly. “Maybe you should’ve considered that before you made me this.” 

“Maybe I should’ve,” You mumble, almost regretful. Before you can sink into the upset, Diego nuzzles into your neck, giving your neck a harsh nip. You suck in at the sharp pressure, then at the sweeping heat as he laps across the pinpricks of blood. 

“You have no way to back out now,” He rumbles against your skin, his hands wandering your body. 

“No,” You agree. “You’re as I am now—damned.” 

“Preciosa,” He turns his head, lips brushing against yours. “I was damned long before I met you.” 

You don’t have the chance to argue as his tongue delves between yours. You hardly mind the metallic tang as you take your fill of one another. You don't have the chance to get your bearings as he shoves you back. You stumble to the floor without a mind for the pain. Any bruising will be gone in minutes, if not hours. He’s over you without seconds, briefly stunned at the speed with which he moved. It makes you grin as it seems to puff him up, making him seem larger as he bows over you and captures your lips with his. 

Your groan is punched out of you as he grips your thigh, drawing it up around his hip as he thrusts into you harshly. You let your head fall back, nails raking through his hair as he sinks his teeth into your neck again, drawing from you as he did just hours before. You’ve never had a lover feed off of you this way before, and it makes your whole body tingle. Between his speed and the way he draws your life from your weakening form, your head begins to spin. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this. It’s been a long time—not since you were human. 

Diego’s pace is frantic, his tongue and teeth making a mess of your neck. When he draws back to get a look at you, his mouth is a mess of red, his eyes obscured with black. You grasp his slick cheeks, grinning as you feel yourself tipping closer and closer to the edge. You cum sharply, whining as you feel Diego’s hips pound against yours. You let yourself sag back onto the floor, sighing heavily as he melts on top of you. You loop your arms around his neck, sliding a hand up into his hair and drawing in a deep, satisfied breath. Your chests rise and fall together, and you comb your fingers tenderly over the strands at the nape of his neck, letting your eyes slide closed. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve thought about death, but you feel that if you died like this, sweating and sated and boneless, you could die happily. You giggle almost girlishly as Diego tips his head up to nip at your jaw. He draws away at the sound, face twisted with a pout at the sound. 

“What?” He demands. You shake your head, raising your hand to swipe from of your blood from his kiss-plumped lips. 

“Nothing,” You reassure, but you know that it’s more than that. 

That itch is gone—for now, at least.

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021

[stedefxckingbonnet]

requests info/intro!

hi, everyone!

i thought i'd take a quick second to introduce myself and to also formally open up requests. i'm already working on a few things, but requests really do always help and feel free to submit them at any point--but, we'll get to all of that in a moment!

my name is lavinia, and i am a uni student studying both theatre (dramaturgy specifically) and creative writing! i love to sing, act, write (obviously haha), read (i am a huge fan of classic literature, as well as donna tartt, mona awad, sally rooney, elif bautman, and ottessa moshfegh's works), go to concerts, go to the movies, style/design clothing, paint, collect records/cds, and so much more! this barely scratches the surface really but, if any of you share these interests, always feel free to reach out!

anyhow, as i said, i will officially be opening requests, and at the moment here is the media and the characters i will write for:

Our Flag Means Death

Izzy Hands (my BELOVED)

Ed Teach

Stede Bonnet

Lucius Spriggs

Jim Jimenez

Oluwande

Mary Bonnet

(more available upon request! these were just sort of my first instincts.)

Gilmore Girls

honestly, i'm pretty open to anything unless it's dean. just request and i'll see what i can do!

Gossip Girl

Blair Waldorf

Serena Van der Woodsen

Dan Humphrey

Nate Archibald

Chuck Bass (like sometimes)

Rufus Humphrey

more available upon request.

The Fosters/The Good Trouble

Callie Adams Foster

Mariana Adams Foster

Brandon Foster

Jamie Hunter

Gael Martinez

Dennis Cooper

Malika Williams

more available upon request.

Select Wes Anderson and Tim Burton characters. just ask!

Enola Holmes

Enola Holmes

Tewkesbury

Sherlock Holmes

Little Women (2019)

Jo March

Amy March

Beth March

Meg March

Laurie

Friedrich Bhaer

Star Wars

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Anakin Skywalker

Padmé Amidala

Luke Skywalker

Han Solo

Leia Organa

Kylo Ren

Finn

Poe Dameron

Ahsoka Tano

more available upon request!

Pride & Prejudice (2005)

Basically me just saying I'll write Mr. Darcy. but more characters available upon request, of course.

Community

Abed Nadir

Troy Barnes

Annie Edison

Jeff and Britta I'm a little iffy on but with the right request, maybe. don't hesitate to ask!

The OC

Seth Cohen

Ryan Atwood

Summer Roberts

Marissa Cooper

The Umbrella Academy

Klaus

Viktor

Ben

Five

Diego

Allison

Luther is like, not preferred for me but if you feel strongly about him and have a good request, i’ll consider it but don’t get your hopes up too high!

Once Upon a Time

Emma Swan

Regina Mills

Killian Jones

Neal Cassidy

August Booth

Jefferson (The Mad Hatter)

Mulan

Ruby Lucas (Red Riding Hood)

Belle French

Mary Margaret Blanchard (Snow White)

David Nolan (Prince Charming)

Peter Pan

Robin Hood

Any others, feel free to ask! I know I left Mr. Gold (Rumple) off, but that's only because it depends with each request. Also, please specify if you want it to take place in Storybrooke pre or post curse, or in The Enchanted Forest.

Merlin

Merlin

Arthur

Gwen

Morgana

Nimueh

Lancelot

any others, feel free to ask. i am just starting S2, keep that in mind.

The Holdovers

Angus Tully

Dead Poets Society

Todd Anderson

Neil Perry

Knox Overstreet

Charlie Dalton

Steven Meeks

Love Lies Bleeding

Lou Langston

Jackie Cleaver

i'll just start there for now, as honestly it's been a bit since i've written an x reader and i don't want to overwhelm myself much! but please, feel free to request at any time! I will update this frequently, as I am always either getting into new things or remembering things I already love. I am mostly dedicated to OFMD right now, but you may also leave requests for other fandoms and I will keep them on file, or who knows, perhaps even get to them sooner than you may imagine! Have a wonderful day (or night!), and don't forget to request!

yours truly,

lavinia

me filing through all of your requests (hopefully!)

[chelsfic]

Princess (for @1zashreena1) - Diego Jimenez x Reader - Starz Power Fanfic

I wrote this fic for @1zashreena1, my spirit guide in all things Maurice Compte. Happy months-early birthday, dear! Hope this *very* explicit fic isn’t too weird between friends!? 

Warning: Pure Smut.

“How much did he just charge us?!?”

You stare at your friend, agog at the figure the bartender just charged her for two drinks. You are definitely a long way from home, that’s for sure.

“Relax,” she waves you off and hands you your glass, “It’s your birthday!”

“But you realize we could buy like...four pitchers at Margarita’s for the price of these two tiny drinks, right?” Yeah, the whole idea had been to come into the city and pretend to be rich and glamorous for one night--but you know Lisa’s job doesn’t pay her much and you don’t want to bankrupt her for your birthday...at least not this early in the evening. “Well, I’m getting the next round!”

She nods and turns back to the dance floor, eyes glittering like a predatory cat as she watches the dancers sway, gyrate and generally commit public indecencies. You smirk and let your eyes roam as well. You might be letting your natural sass make you a little contrary, but you have to admit you love this. The music--so loud you can feel it pulsing in your bones, the contagious energy of the crowd...you don’t even care that you stick out like a sore thumb among all these supermodel thin girls and--frankly--out of this world hot guys. You have no clue how Lisa managed to get you into the most elite club in New York for your birthday but...you’re going to make the most of it.

“Should we show these skinny bitches how to dance?”

Here’s the thing: when it comes to confidence? You outshine everyone else on this dance floor. This is your night! You take Lisa’s hand and lead her out into the throng and the two of you move with the music like you were born with silver spoons and not a care in the world other than having a good time. Monday you’ll go back to work, back to daydreams and deadlines, but tonight is yours and you’re not going to waste it.

You’re working up a sweat, rolling your hips with the music and not giving a damn if you look silly, just losing yourself in the dance. 

“Hey!” Lisa leans close and has to yell into your ear to be heard, “There’s a Latino sex god checking you out right now!”

You roll your eyes at her and scoff, “What are you talking about, Lisa?”

“Look! Casually!” she nods her chin over your shoulder and you do a little not-so-casual spin to glance behind you. Okay, yes, there is a staggeringly beautiful man a few feet away who’s currently being worshiped by three female dance partners. Your mouth actually drops open in shock as you look at him and you have to consciously close it while your eyes rake over his body. He is a well-built man. Tall, broad, muscles straining against his black button-down shirt and suit jacket. He’s digging his fingers into one of the girl’s hips and his hands are absolutely huge. You slowly raise your gaze to take in his stubbled jaw, full, smirking lips, wide cheekbones and bottomless, brown eyes. Brown eyes that--yup--are staring right back at you.

You spin back around and collide into Lisa’s arms. 

“Okay!” you yell. “He’s definitely looking over here.”

This guy has three supermodels hanging off of him and he’s staring at you like he wants to eat you up.

“Okay, okay, girl,” Lisa launches into her life coach voice and you groan. “This is your night, remember? You need to go fucking get down on that dick.”

“Jesus!” you laugh and shake your head at her, but you’re already glancing back over your shoulder. He’s still staring and now his lips are curled up in a grin. He raises a hand and crooks his finger at you. Oh, he thinks you’re at his beck and call, huh? You turn back to Lisa and dip down low, jutting out your ass and throwing your wild curls over your shoulder as you slowly, slowly roll upright. 

“He’s gonna have to earn it!” you yell and Lisa is shaking her head in disbelief. 

“You’re something else!” she exclaims.

You throw yourself back into the dance in earnest, but this time it’s different. This time you’re putting on a show. You dip, roll, gyrate and sway, all the while locking eyes with the dark haired stranger across the dance floor. He tries beckoning you over again and you shake your head with a smug grin, crooking your finger back at him. You’re setting the rules tonight. He actually breaks into a full smile at your boldness and you nearly swoon over the dimples in his cheeks.

He finally breaks away from his gaggle of admirers and makes his way toward you. You play it cool, like you couldn’t care less if he wants to dance with you, but inside you’ve got some serious butterflies. The butterflies only ramp up when you notice the two stern, bodyguard-types who break away from the wall and seem to track his movements as he walks over to you. Shit. Who is this guy?

He strolls up to you, inserting himself into your dance space and planting his greedy hands on your hips. His fingers dig into your flesh and the touch sets you on fire. He’s a good head taller than you and he has to lean down to rumble into your ear, “Bonita! You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?”

You smirk up at him and tilt your chin past his shoulder, indicating the dejected groupies still lingering behind him, “I don’t like to share!”

He laughs, letting his hands wander to your backside, squeezing your ass as he grinds his hips against yours. 

“You think you can handle me all by yourself?” he asks with a cocky head tilt. 

You reach up your hands and thread them through his hair, dragging your manicured nails over his scalp, his neck, his chest, lower still. 

“I’m a big girl,” you quip. “I’ll manage. What’s your name?”

“Diego,” he answers and his dark eyes are fixed on the contour of your bust in the tight dress you’re wearing. It takes him a minute to formulate his next words, “What’s your name, bonita?”

You grab him by the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling his face down to yours and whispering your name in his ear. When you draw back he takes the opportunity to grab your face, locking his lips on yours and capturing you in a searing, intense kiss. His hands reach down to cup your butt and lift you onto your tiptoes as he deepens the kiss. The rest of the club falls away and it’s just you and Diego. You let your hands wander over his body, running down his chest, teasing the waistband of his tailored pants and trailing back to make your way up to his strong, muscled shoulders. But you stop short when your hand brushes against the cold metal handgun sticking out of the back of his pants under the jacket. 

Your breath catches and you pull away from the kiss. You feel a warning creep down your spine as you lock eyes with him and he grins, amused at your sudden qualms.

He leans his forehead against yours and growls against your lips, “You don’t know who I am, little girl?”

Your eyes shift to the two body guards lurking nearby and then back to Diego. You shake your head slowly and answer, “Somebody dangerous, I bet.”

Diego’s eyes glint with unhinged humor. He nods his head, running his hands firmly up and down your sides, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your dress. He’s bold. And used to taking what he wants. 

“Si, bonita. I’m dangerous. You still think you can handle me?”

What the fuck. It’s your birthday.

You drag your own firm hands over his body, lingering over his abdomen and then plunging downward to hold him through his pants.

“Diego,” you hiss, giving him the faintest squeeze, “do you think you can handle me?”

***

You feel a little guilty ditching Lisa but in the end she’s the one urging you to seize the night.

“I’ll be fine, girl! My friend just texted me she’s at another club--we’re gonna meet up. Go get that dick! Happy birthday!” she practically shouts the last part and you slap her arm.

You glance over your shoulder where Diego is looking less than patient waiting with his entourage. 

“Okay, but listen. Here’s the address I’ll be. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow--”

“I’ll bust in the place myself, I got you!”

****

Diego leaves the guards behind as you enter the elevator. If you hadn’t already been clued in by his style, clothes, bodyguards and vehicle--well, the outlandishly high class penthouse he lives in really solidifies how out of your element you are. Diego isn’t just wealthy. He’s wealthy and powerful... and used to getting what he wants when he wants it. You’re feeling a little overwhelmed in your knock-off dress, comparing what he has to your own modest apartment back in Pennsylvania...and feeling just the tiniest bit inferior. But you hold your head up as you stride across the marble floor, entering the penthouse like visiting royalty. Something tells you Diego’s attracted to your confidence and you’ll be damned if you’ll let him intimidate you.

“Nice place,” you comment dryly, affecting disinterest while your eyes widen at the view from the floor to ceiling windows.

“Thanks,” he remarks casually before practically jumping you. His hands are everywhere he’s kissing every inch of your face like he can’t get enough. You let out a breathy moan as he inches his fingers under the short hem of your skirt and brushes your inner thighs. His beard rasps against your cheek as he growls, “I’m going to fuck you on every surface.”

He works his fingers between your thighs, rubbing you through your panties with firm, punishing strokes as he grinds his erection against your stomach. For a moment you want to surrender entirely and let this man do whatever the fuck he wants with you. You think about the cool metal of his gun and wonder what it would feel like ground against your clit. This man is doing things to your brain.

But you come to your senses and place a calming hand on his wrist, cursing yourself mentally but instinctively knowing that you need to assert yourself here.

“That sounds like fun,” you say in a firm voice, removing his hand from between your thighs and straightening your dress. “But when I sleep with a man for the first time I expect to be treated like a princess. That means you’ll be taking me to your bed.”

Diego growls in frustration, wrapping his arms around you and molding you against his body. But you can see the look of respect in his eyes even as filthy words fall from his mouth, “Of course, Princess. But after I’ve fucked you to your satisfaction you’re gonna get on your knees for me and beg me to put my cock in your mouth.”

Rather than answer him you simply cup his cheeks in your hands and drag another kiss from his lips. The burn of his stubble on your face is delicious as your tongues clash. Diego pulls away first, his eyes are almost black with lust and his lips are swollen from kissing. This cocky, dangerous, powerful man is coming completely undone for you.

He takes your hand in his and leads you up the stairs to his bedroom. It’s a huge room with minimal decor, which is what you expected based on the rest of the penthouse. His bed is gigantic and covered in a silky black coverlet that probably costs as much as your whole bedroom set. You run your hand over the soft fabric and perch on the edge of the mattress, legs crossed daintily. Diego stalks toward you like a predator. You can see the calculations running behind his gaze. He’s not used to women like you. Assertive, strong, no nonsense. For once he’s the one feeling as if he needs to make an impression.

He drops to his knees before you and wraps his hands around your high-heeled foot. 

“Well, Cinderella,” he smirks up at you, slowly removing the shoe and letting it drop to the floor. He wraps his hands around your little foot and drags his fingers up your calf. “Are you ready for your prince?”

Your breath is coming hot and heavy as his hands inch further up your legs. You try for a smug smirk but when he delves his fingers between your thighs again you let out an undignified moan.

“N-never saw a Prince Charming like you before, Diego,” you pant, falling back on your elbows as his long fingers creep under the fabric of your panties and slip between your folds. 

“No, Princess,” he smirks, dipping one finger inside you without warning. “I think I’m more like the villain.”

He’s on his knees for you but his touch is a reminder of the man he is. He is not gentle. He pumps his fingers into you with brutal force, delighting in the little squeaks and mewls that fall from your lips whenever he slams your pussy especially hard. And his words. His voice. You’ve never been more turned on.

“You like that, Princess? Huh? You like when I fuck you with my fingers? Oh, bonita, you are tight, girl. You don’t know what's coming for you, huh? Are you gonna take my cock like a good girl, huh?”

You’re writhing on the edge of the bed, desperately trying to grind your clit against the heel of his palm and making needy, pitiful noises that are entirely embarrassing, but you don’t give a fuck. 

You try to wrest back control, sitting up suddenly and grabbing the hem of your dress, pulling it off in one motion and (thank god) not getting stuck with it half-way up your body.

You look down at Diego kneeling at your feet, still fully dressed and his expression rabid with desire. You smile and stroke your fingers through his hair. You let your hand cup the back of his head and pull him forward until his face is hovering over your pussy and you can feel his hot breath ghosting against you. 

“I want to take your cock, Diego. But first show me how much you want me.”

He flashes a crooked grin up at you before dipping down between your legs and drawing his wicked tongue through your folds. You let out a hoarse whimper but Diego is relentless. He presses his flattened tongue to your clit, licking and circling the sensitive bundle while dragging the rough stubble on his chin over your sensitive skin. You fist your fingers in his short hair and cry out for him no to stop. Keep going. Keep going. But just as your thighs are starting to clamp down around his head with the force of your coming orgasm, Diego rips himself away and stands up to stalk around the side of the bed. You scramble back towards the headboard, eyes fixed on him as he removes his shirt, revealing his sculpted chest and shoulder muscles. 

He comes up to the side of the bed, looming over you with a wild look in his eyes.

“I’m in control now, baby,” he hisses, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants and underwear fall to the floor. 

Your eyes fall to the massive erection jutting between his legs and you actually whimper in anticipation. 

He stands there staring at you, waiting. When you don’t get it he reaches out and smacks the side of your thigh with his open palm, “Who’s in control now, baby girl?”

You know you’re out of your depth now and everything about this man screams danger, but you find yourself nodding and panting with need, “You’re in control, Diego!”

He turns to his nightstand, grabbing a condom from the drawer and deftly slipping it over his cock. He climbs up on the bed, crawling between your open legs and rubbing himself through your folds. He catches your eyes and leans down to press a surprisingly soft kiss to your lips as he plunges inside you. He wasn’t boasting before. You’ve never had anyone this big, he stretches you to your limit. When he finally seats himself fully you cry out at the pleasant, burning pain of being so thoroughly filled.

He brings his hands up to your face and runs his fingers through your hair. You look up at him and see the muscles in his jaw clenching and his eyelids fluttering as he holds himself back.

“You good, Princess?” he asks with a grunt that sends twinges straight to your core. Watching this man lose his self possession for you, because of you...it’s something you could see yourself becoming addicted to very quickly.

You nod up at him, “I’m good, Diego. I’m good.”

You are. You want to experience this man unleashed and unhinged. You want to know what he means when he says he’ll fuck you to your satisfaction. You don’t have to wait long. At your words he lets out a moan and starts brutally pounding into you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lays sloppy kisses along your tender skin as his cock grinds into you over and over again. His hands are everywhere--but mostly your tits and ass, let’s be honest. 

He rears back his head and looks down at you with those dark, unreadable eyes and he orders, “Come, Princess. Come like a good girl for Diego.”

You want to hold out just to spite him, but he’s already edged you so close with his lips and tongue that his words are all it takes to crash you into your orgasm. You tremble and clench around his rigid cock as you ride the waves of your pleasure. All the while Diego is grunting and slamming into you with abandon, taking what he wants. When his orgasm follows shortly after he goes rigid for a second, clenching his fingers on your hips to hold you still as he presses into you with bruising force.

“Ahh,” he cries, falling forward and nearly smothering you with his solid body. His skin is slick with sweat and he’s sticky against you. You can feel his cock softening inside you, sending fluttering sensations through your core. He pulls out rather abruptly and you give a little cry of protest. You watch him remove the condom and drop it over the side of the bed before he crawls back over to you and collapses at your side.

“You did well, Princess,” he praises you, cupping his massive hand around the side of your head and threading his fingers through your curls.

“So did you, Mr. Villain,” you laugh, still a little out of breath.

He pulls back and lays flat on his back, breathing heavily, “Now. I think there was something mentioned about you on your knees?”

[needleworkreve]

The Jimenez Family

@madebycoffee They’re a family of magic users, using the definitions from your casting call, Miguel is a wizard and Louisa is a witch. Their daughter Milagros could be a wizard or a warlock, it’s up to you. Son, Diego, hasn’t fully come into his powers yet so is “just” a mage. They’re members of the court so I imagined that there was some sort of dress-code in effect requiring hats. Milagros is a bit rebellious so she’s wearing a headdress to see what counts as a hat. If you’d like to add them in, I can get you a cc list and the tray files.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day One

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Diego Jimenez x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Exhibitionism; gun play; grinding; one light slap

He’s seen you look at it—but in your defense, everyone has. Diego’s golden gun is one of the flashiest, most ostentatious things that he owns—and that’s saying something. Diego likes to make a statement—with his apartments, his clothes, his cars; with who he fucks, how he fucks them, where he fucks them. He’s a show off. He likes having all eyes on him, for right or for wrong. 

Now’s no different. He teases you, taunts you openly to his bodyguards. He grasps your jaw with one hand, and the grip of his golden gun with the other. 

“See how she takes it?” He crows. He grins as he levers the barrel deeper into your mouth. The metallic taste coats your mouth. Your teeth scrape and clack against the metal. Your jaw aches; your throat itches from the stretch, the repeated near-contact. Diego coos as you sniffle, and for a moment, he seems to let up. 

It’s a momentary reprieve before he shoves the gun deeper into your mouth. 

You gag roughly, fingers scrabbling at the fabric of his Armani jeans. Your eyes well with messy tears, muddying your sight and turning Diego into a swirling kaleidoscope. He finally draws the gun from between your lips, eyeing the shining, dripping piece as you cough and wheeze. He looks from it again, a cruel smile curling his lips. He tips your chin up with the heated, slick barrel, then leans in.

You think he’ll give you a kiss. You foolishly think he’ll cuddle in close. You think he’ll reward you—and maybe he does, a little. 

Feeling the barrel of the gun press against your puffy, flushed cunt makes you jump just a bit. You suck in a shaky breath as Diego pushes out a laugh. 

“Better?” He purrs, slipping the barrel back and forth. You shiver, curling your fingers in the fabric of his jeans and pressing your hips down against the metal. 

“Careful,” Diego warns, tipping his head to the side and searching your face. “You make a mess of that now, you’ll have to clean it up later.” 

You shake your head a touch dumbly, and Diego mimics the movement, pushing his lips out as he tuts. You take it for disapproval, and you push your hips more harshly against the barrel. He chuckles softly as you whimper weakly. The barrel is warm from your mouth, and slides thickly against your cunt. You gasp as the tip catches against your opening.

“Diego,” You breathe out, straining your neck up for a kiss. Diego chuckles, poking his tongue out to tease over your spit-slicked lips. “Almost?” He asks, brows tipping up. You nod hurriedly, digging your nails into his thighs. 

“Go on—Lookit me,” He urges. You suck in a breath as he gives your cheek a light slap, then gives your jaw another rough squeeze. You do your best, but your eyelids flutter as your cunt twitches and clutches at nothing. You shudder, bowing over his lap as your hips rabbit against the gun. Diego presses his barrel against your pussy one more time before he slides the gun away again. 

He holds it up as he did before, turning it back and forth as he eyes the soiled barrel. 

“You know what you do now, mm?” He hums, eyes drifting down to you. You nod, face heated, chest heaving, mouth falling open obediently. Diego grins, raising the barrel to your lips again. 

“That’s my girl.” 

Tag list: @leaveinthelurk ; @missredherring ; @fangirlfreakingout ; @stevie25 ; @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @karie-me-home ; @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly ; @guyfieriii ; @moonlightburned ; @amneris21 ; @shiftingsands14 ; @cloudohell

[lagilliland]

PRESS RELEASE: “LOVE IS LOVE” BENEFIT COMIC RAISES MORE THAN $165K FOR VICTIMS OF THE PULSE NIGHTCLUB MASSACRE IN ORLANDO

San Diego, CA (March 28, 2017) – Last December, IDW Publishing, with support from DC Entertainment, created LOVE IS LOVE, an anthology graphic novel that united the comic book community in support of the victims and families affected by the tragedy at Pulse nightclub. Now The New York Times best-selling graphic novel has raised more than $165K from digital and print sales. Through Equality Florida, the proceeds have been donated to the OneOrlando Fund to assist the victims and families impacted.

LOVE IS LOVE was conceived and curated by comic book writer Marc Andreyko, under the editorial guidance of IDW Publishing’s Sarah Gaydos and DC Entertainment’s Jamie S. Rich, who called upon his industry colleagues to lend their talents to a benefit comic book. The overwhelming response he received in support of the project resulted in contributions from comic and entertainment luminaries including Grant Morrison, Gail Simone, Jim Lee, Paul Dini, Amanda Conner, Scott Snyder, Tom King, Brian Michael Bendis, Steve Orlando, Cat Staggs, Kieron Gillen, Mark Millar, Marguerite Bennett, Phil Jimenez, David Mack, Brad Meltzer, Taran Killam, Patton Oswalt, Damon Lindelof, Morgan Spurlock and Matt Bomer, among many others. “Words cannot express how grateful we are for the outpouring of generosity our community has received,” said Orlando Mayor Buddy Dyer. “People from around the globe continue to contribute funds to OneOrlando to deliver the critical help and healing the victims’ families and survivors need to aid in their recovery.” “I am overwhelmed by the response to LOVE IS LOVE,” said Marc Andreyko. “Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that this project would not only raise so much money, but touch so many lives around the globe. In these divisive and difficult times, seeing the outpouring of love and support for victims of hate by people of every race, creed, orientation and nationality shows me that there is much good in the world. We just need to keep fighting the good fight and love will win." Anticipation for LOVE IS LOVE ran so high that retailers could barely keep up with demand. The graphic novel is currently in its fourth printing, and the remaining copies will be donated to Equality Florida and sold as fundraising items. “Equality Florida is so grateful for this project – it has been such an inspiring and powerful way to respond in the face of tragedy,” said Nadine Smith, CEO of Equality Florida. “We must uproot the hatred that breeds discrimination and violence, and having top storytellers and illustrators combine their talents makes LOVE IS LOVE a potent and accessible tool.” A fifth printing is forthcoming, with all proceeds from this and future editions of LOVE IS LOVE being donated to LGBTQA charities.

About IDW IDW Media Holdings, Inc. (OTCQX: IDWM) is a fully integrated media company, which includes publishing, games, entertainment, and the San Diego Comic Art Gallery. IDW Publishing’s comic book and graphic novel catalog includes some of the world’s most popular entertainment brands, including Transformers, My Little Pony, Star Trek, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Ghostbusters, and Disney’s classic characters. At IDW’s core is its commitment to creator-owned comics including 30 Days of Night, Locke & Key, Wormwood, Ragnarök, V-Wars, and Archangel by bestselling sci-fi author William Gibson. IDW Publishing is also home to the acclaimed and award-winning imprints; Top Shelf, The Library of American Comics, Yoe! Books, and Artist Editions, showcasing the greatest original art ever published in American comic books. IDW Games’ diverse line-up includes the international phenomenon Machi Koro, as well as hit licensed games such as X-Files, Back to the Future, The Godfather, and TMNT. IDW Entertainment serves as the worldwide distributor of Wynonna Earp airing on the Syfy Channel in the U.S. and is producing BBC America’s Dirk Gently, based on the best seller by Douglas Adams starring Elijah Wood and Sam Barnett. About DC Entertainment: DC Entertainment, home to the iconic brands DC (Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, The Flash), Vertigo (Sandman, Fables) and MAD, is the creative division charged with strategically integrating its content across Warner Bros. Entertainment and Time Warner. DC Entertainment works in concert with many key Warner Bros. divisions to unleash its stories and characters across all media, including but not limited to film, television, consumer products, home entertainment and interactive games. Publishing thousands of comic books, graphic novels and magazines each year, DC Entertainment is one of the largest English-language publishers of comics in the world.

[awesometheauthor]

Juan Ponce de Leon, The Missing Years. Rationalizing the Historical Documentation By Way of Archival Documentation

Copyright 2018, John J. Browne Ayes, Author of Juan Ponce de Leon His New And Revised Genealogy. All Rights Reserved, National, And International

Life for Juan Ponce de Leon was full of frustration. He would have liked to have governed freely but he was always beneath the constraining orders of his king and queen. He was also battling his political enemies. He was also bound to his religion. He must have thought heavily about the hypocrisy of the priests who were all too willing to enslave the Indians who were supposed to have been under their charge delivering their immortal souls. Anytime it seemed that he was making a positive headway in building up and populating Isla de San Juan a royal decree would be delivered demanding that he divide up Indians among the new settlers who had immigrated to the island from Spain. He must have hated that task because it was despicable to him having to separate families, seeing their agony and pain and hearing their cries. They were people, innocent in their ways like children. They were close to nature. He knew that their enslavement would embitter them. Harden them. Life for them would become evil and dark.

Even more frustrating was the adversarial political situation around him. He had arrested two of Diego Colon's cronies. He must have been tempted to have them garroted but in his wisdom, he didn't want to make the same mistakes that Columbus did. Instead, Ponce de Leon sent them off to Spain in chains to be judged and tried for their contemptuous behavior against his governance. Instead of stripping them of their titles and holdings and incarcerating them. One can imagine the anger and frustration Juan Ponce had to bear after the king sent them back to the island imploring, Juan Ponce reinstate them to their offices. Juan Ponce knew his days as governor were numbered.

That day finally came after Diego Colon had petitioned the Supreme Council in Spain to get them to enact and ratify the tenets of his father's contract with the king. They concurred and Diego Colon was made Viceroy of the Caribbean islands his father had discovered. Juan Ponce must have been enraged because the Council included Puerto Rico which Colon never really discovered and formally claimed on behalf of the king. Ponce must have sworn that he would get even with Colon someday. He would bide his time when it was right to do so when. Colon and his cronies would make a fatal mistake.

After Diego Colon became a viceroy, Juan Ponce de Leon was sent to smash another rebellion initiated by a family member of Agueybana II of the same name. A large number of the rebellious Taino had fled to one of the islands. Juan Ponce set out with a boatload of his heavily armed troops on board his ship. The confrontation got intense. It would be wise to say that the Taino had set a well-coordinated gorilla style trap that took the troops by surprise. Juan Ponce must have seen that he was heavily outnumbered and he ordered a retreat. In the process, many of his troops were killed and captured. It is said that the Indians had also captured two women. To this date, there are no archival documents naming them, but I suspect that the women must have been crew member's wives. Who initiated the legal process that forced Ponce to set out on a suicidal mission? The King? Or Ponce's political enemy the viceroy? In any case, Ponce was not going to sacrifice his men or himself on behalf of the viceroy, Colon.

Sometime before then, Juan Ponce's legitimate wife died. She might have succumbed to one of the many tropical diseases that struck down so many Spanish women during that era. It must have been a devastating blow to the governor and his family. Again, there are no archival records that would indicate when his wife died or where she was interred. Was she buried in Caparra or Isla Espanola or was she sent back to Spain?

Juan Ponce retired to his home in Caparra. During this time period until 1520 – 1521 the historical records become mute. We can infer from the records before that time, that Ponce carried on with selling produce from his farm. Shipping foodstuffs to Spain and probably selling the same to ship owners who traveled by sea around the empire. The Spanish in Mexico probably enjoyed the fruits, vegetables, pigs, lambs and even rode Juan Ponce's horses. It was written within Melchior Troche's petition that Ponce and the family had lost horses and a bar of gold after the 1521 incident when the settlers had to flee Florida. Those horses were destined to be sold to people in Mexico. Juan Ponce settled in Cappara developing trade, growing crops, fruits, and vegetables, selling horses, pigs, cows as well as commune with his children. During that quiet time, Ponce busied himself with finding suitable husbands for his three daughters. Two of them he married off to the Troche brothers and the last one married Antonio de la Gama. A year later, Ponce married de la Gama's daughter. Ponce de Leon may have been active politically because all of a sudden his future son in law shows up in Puerto Rico in the powerful position of a royal judge. The plot against Diego Colon and his cohorts at the Royal Hacienda at Toa begins to unfold after de la Gama's arrival. What was left of the Taino Royal family of Agueybana I had been placed there to serve as slaves in the mines, the church and on farms. They had suffered cruelties that caused the deaths of many of them.

De la Gama came to Puerto Rico to specifically investigate, prosecute and jail those who were in charge at the Royal Hacienda for unbridled cruelty and murder. As a result, a royal decree was issued freeing all the Taino people from the yoke of slavery in Puerto Rico. Unfortunately, that judicial victory came after Ponce's death, It must have hurt Diego Colon and his cronies as well as all those slave owners on the island. Those people, in the end, had to go out and purchase slaves from Africa to replace the Indigenous people who had been freed. I have a copy of the judicial proceedings that lists the names of the members of the Royal Taino family who were mistreated. Guyabana, Agueybana, Dona Ines, and many other variations of the Agueybana name appeared on that list. They were also listed by what position they held in their society. Nitaino, and naboria. I suspect that the naboria might have been the slaves that the Taino themselves used to own. My maternal Guanahatabey ancestor might have been among them.

Earlier in this essay, I wrote about Juan Ponce de Leon's business dealings during the time he retired to his home in Caparra. For a long time after I wrote my book, Juan Ponce de Leon His New And Revised Genealogy, I asked myself the question, where did Ponce de Leon learn to become a businessman? Historians have painted him as a soldier who served in the war of Granada as a squire. True, but how did the man learn about business an government as well as building?

After I published the book I took the time to review all the resource documents and copies of original documents I had gathered from the Archives of Spain. The answer came slowly to me.

Juan Ponce's grandfather and family members had owned a very successful soap factory in Seville, Spain. No doubt they imported and exported all manner of things to and from the rest of the world outside of Spain. They owned the port of Cadiz which was later given to the king of Spain in exchange for all kinds of graces and mercies from that king. This image of businessmen, traders, exporters, and importers breaks the mold of preconceived images of lazy noblemen, and in reality, sets the stage for Juan Ponce's uncanny and sudden rise to political power in the Caribbean. It is quite obvious that Ponce de Leon acquired his business knowledge as well as his extensive knowledge of military tactics from his family. His uncle, Rodrigo Ponce de Leon was dubbed the second El Cid during the conflict at Granada. Archival documents inform us that Rodrigo considered Juan Ponce his favorite nephew and Rodrigo supported Juan Ponce during a dispute over water and land monies against his brother, Pedro Ponce de Leon. In fact, since the earliest days of the Moorish-Spanish conflicts, the Ponce de Leon were active participants throughout their family history beginning with Ponce de Minerva their ancestor. With this information, I put forward that Juan Ponce de Leon spent his days in retirement conducting business from his home in Caparra.

1513

During Juan Ponce de Leon's journey of discovery and exploration of Florida, the main characters were:

Anton de Alaminos was the navigator.

Juan Gonzalez Ponce de Leon who was the legitimate son of Juan Ponce de Leon. Juan Gonzalez was employed as a spy for the king in the Caribbean as well as Mexico.

A Free-never had been enslaved friend and associate of Juan Gonzalez Ponce de Leon, Juan Garrido who was the first free African to set foot in the new land of Florida.

The Jimenez sisters. What were two women doing aboard that ship? Some historians try to assume that one of the sisters was a mistress of Juan Ponce. I refuse to believe that assumption based on the possibility that Ponce's wife was still alive during that time and the documented fact that the Jimenez sisters were close relatives and family members.

They both came from a very rich family that had land, titles and material holdings in Spain. There is a possibility that the Jimenez sisters were the first women in history to have partly financed that important expedition. That reason would gain them the unique privilege to tag along this voyage of discovery and exploration. I also feel that it is important to point out that Juan Garrido wasn't your ordinary sidekick. The man was very intelligent. He is credited with finagling around with wheat DNA to produce a new strain that was purposely adapted to the harsh desert-like environment of Mexico. He, in essence, is the first real DNA researcher in this hemisphere before that humble priest that studied another type of farm produce in Europe. Garrido became a successful landowner and exporter of his new wheat in Mexico. No doubt he gained his business knowledge from his close association with Juan Ponce de Leon.

The End.

Everyone who has studied Juan Ponce de Leon knows that he sent out two important letters. One to his king informing that he was going to create a settlement in Florida and the other letter of a more personal nature was sent to an important member of the church also informing him that he was going to settle la Florida. He added that he had married off his daughters and now he was free to pursue his dream of building and running a successful settlement according to the contract that was drawn up in between King Ferdinand and himself. This decision according to historians came suddenly, but in reality, this decision to settle Florida must have come out of the necessity to move his business ventures to Florida so that it would be more convenient in dealing with Mexico. Florida was to become a new port of his export and import enterprise. As I pointed out before in this essay, Melchior Troche his grandson was petitioning the House of Contracts in an attempt to claim everything that ended up in Cuba that belonged to his grandfather. Historians of that era would have you believe that Juan Ponce retired to Caparra licking his political wounds and wallowing in a deep depression. He was not that kind of man. He was an astute businessman who had built, populated and fortified Isla de San Juan Bautista de Puerto Rico at his own expense. Had he lived to finish that settlement in la Pasqua Florida the peninsula would have developed much earlier than it had.

Sources, resource material and copies of original documents derived from the book, Juan Ponce De Leon His New And Revised Genealogy.

[heresathreebee]

Garrote part 9

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez x Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Word count: 3k words

Warning(s): Explicit (+18) | sibling angst, mention of past drug use, roleplay sex!, UNPROTECTED sex (wrap your willy before you get silly), clothed sex, dirty talk, oh uh minor voyeurism. Previous Masterlist Next

AN: No beta, all mistakes are my own. Why is it so goddamn difficult to apply gifs to a post. I promise I’ll sort the masterlist tonight! Also tags will be moved to the bottom under the cut. Let me know if you’d like to be added

Gif creator @padfootwantsatummyrub​ thank you!

Alicia agreed to meet him that same night, and he tried to be presentable, and though he couldn't hide the alcohol on his breath, he was miraculously clean. That was thanks to the girls, of course, he hadn't had a second to snort coke with all their attention and literal begging. His sister was out on a job– Healy had given them the name of the low level thug who stole Porsche. Kennedy belonged to Jason Micic's organization, but Alicia discovered the boy usually did his own jobs. Diego met her just a few miles from his place and watched her work. His presence seemed to make Jason's Right Hand man nervous. 

"Look miss," he had been calling her 'lady' sarcastically before he noticed Diego lurking around in the shadows, "I hear what you're saying and I promise we're gonna fix it. By this time tomorrow, nobody's ever gonna know that kid's name." 

"Good." Alicia took a drag from her cigarette and held out a hand. The man reached out to shake it, but she snatched his wrist and put the cherry out on his forearm. He screamed, lurching his arm out of her grasp and gaining a few claw marks in the process. "Make sure it never happens again, claro?" 

They left him cradling his arm and stalked over to the alleyway of a greasy midnight diner. Diego held the door open for her, instructing her guard with a look to wait outside (his guard did the same). Alicia picked a booth in the back and ordered whiskey and fries– the very mention of which made Diego's stomach growl. 

"What do you want, Diego?" Alicia was stoic, already a note of disappointment fell from her voice as if she expected something childish. 

He took a deep breath to collect himself. 

"I'm sorry, sister," he said. She raised an eyebrow, but he continued, "I've been reckless and stupid and I almost got us caught because of it. You said those fucking pigs wouldn't have had anything on us except for my gun, and I can't let that happen again. So until we cross the border… no more coke." 

Alicia was, understandably, surprised. "No more coke? You think you can handle that, Diego?" 

His eyes were hard as stone– determined. "For us? Yes." 

His sister relaxed into the red cushions of the booth. Her eyes searched his– for mockery, for tricks, for falsehoods– until her jaw tightened and some raw expression flashed that Diego didn't know how to read. 

"On our mother's grave," he vowed. The trust Alicia was giving him now could not be squandered. It filled him with determination and a desire to be redeemed in her head. On our mother's grave. 

She hugged him. After sitting in perfect, tense silence while he ate all the fries and took a sip of her whiskey, as they were walking back out the door, she hugged him. He felt like a kid again. He felt like he had when their mother had passed away. Those were the only times she had hugged her brother, and it left him feeling raw and exposed like a nerve ending. His head drifted as he drove home and he swiped a tear from his cheek. 

I can do this, he decided. For us. 

It was nearly dawn by the time he got back to the penthouse. The cityscape was always bright at night, but there were a few precious hours in the evening and the morning when enough lights went out that made the city feel truly peaceful. Diego slipped into bed, barely managing to kick off his shoes before falling asleep watching the flurries of driven snow fly past his window. 

~

Someone was jiggling the doorknob. Diego had just enough strength to turn his head and look at the clock to read the time was 5:40 AM. The door to his bedroom opened violently as someone fell in. He lifted his head groggily and recognized the pretty kitten heels hanging from the brown arm with a death grip on the door knob. Jazmine pulled herself up with great difficulty, swaying on her feet like a drunk and slowly maneuvering the door to close behind her. Her half lidded eyes landed on Diego and she smiled. 

"Hey." She sounded hoarse and slurred. "I didn't think you'd actually be here…" 

Diego groaned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to sit up just a bit. "You asked me to be here. What do you want?" 

Something like sickness flashed over her face but only for a second. Her brow smoothed with determination and she sauntered with purpose to the side of his bed. Jazmine pulled his hair lightly and elicited a grunt from him. 

"I saw Haagen last night," she sighed. "When I left, I got a cab and got drunk and… well, here I am." 

Diego had a hard time focusing on her words, what with the gentle petting of his hair causing distraction, but he understood the unspoken story hidden between the lines. He rested a hand on top of her thigh and felt her twitch under his touch but not away from it. 

"If you're not too tired…" Her soft hand slid down, down, down. Stroking over the side of his neck and the open collar of his shirt, caressing his chest and pressing into the plain of his stomach until it mirrored his own touch on her thigh. She even gave him a squeeze which caused him to twitch as she had. "I could use a nice massage." 

Diego felt himself smirk involuntarily. She had his blood pumping now and pushing out the grogginess of a near sleepless night. He squeezed her back in answer but made no move to sit up or do anything else. 

On Jazmine's part, she couldn't take her eyes off of the man. There was something about the calmness and the plain white shirt that made him seem altogether a different man. He didn't look like a drug lord right now– he looked like somebody's husband. Maybe even somebody's dad. She could put that thought to good use…

"You like roleplaying, Diego?" His eyes had drifted shut but one opened curiously. "I can start." 

"Every girl likes doctor and nurse," he mumbled almost to himself. 

Jazmine shook her head. "I've got something else in mind." 

She stood up and tossed her shoes to the side. Only as she was taking it off did Diego notice she was wearing a t-shirt over her dress (in his defense, they were the same color). What she wore beneath was modest, something she could pass off in a church, which was a far cry from the little number she had worn to the club. Jazmine started her story by removing his belt with an agonizingly slow pace. 

"You," she said, tapping the buckle, "are a 9 to 5 office jockey who loves his parents and makes a decent living wage." 

"So sexy," he drawled sarcastically. 

"And I–" she ripped the belt from the loops of his pants eagerly and in one motion, "– am your wife." 

Diego's voice dropped. "Keep going." 

"I take care of the kids and our three story suburban house." She unbuttoned his pants with one hand, struggling and constantly bumping into his junk just to drive him crazy. "And we're so busy with everything we haven't had time to ourselves since our second kid. But guess what?" 

The button finally popping forced air out of Diego's lung, and he pulled his pants down himself as he became impatient. Jazmine was intent on keeping control and straddled his hips with force. His hands found their way up her skirt with ease and he fingered the strap of her panties as he waited for the other shoe to drop. "It's their first day of kindergarten." 

Diego's lust addled brain took a second to catch up. It was harder to do with her warm core putting pressure on his hardening cock, but he managed, and when he did he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying we haven't had sex in five years?" 

Jazmine hummed. She ground down on his hips, and he couldn't help but buck into her, feeling rock hard and ready. The woman slipped into her role like she was born to it, donning a face of longing with just a pouting lip. 

"I've missed you so much, baby..." 

God, he could not wait to get naked– this would just have to do. Diego sat up until he was chest to chest with 'his wife' and slipped his hands into his boxers to free his cock from its confines. Jazmine wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held onto him for dear life as he pushed her panties to the side and slipped a finger in. 

"So wet, baby," he groaned, "estas listo?" 

American girls loved hearing his Spanish and Jazmine was no different judging by the way she shuddered. He had to do everything by feeling since she refused to let go of him. She slid onto his cock like she belonged there, and although it was truthfully the first time, it felt like the first in a long time. 

Jazmine gasped when he finally bottomed out. Without a condom, she could feel every single vein and ridge of his thick length wedged into her pussy, and just the slightest movement caused the greatest sensations. Diego's warm breath fanned over her chest and she wished she could reach the zipper on the back of the dress to offer her nipples to him. He was content, it seemed, to try and taste them from the outside, and she squeezed his cock as a reward. 

"Oh fuck me." 

It wasn't meant as a request but Diego obliged her nonetheless. He gripped the soft curves between her hips and her waist and used them to bounce her in his lap, not too fast and not too deep, limited by the position but also like he wanted to keep her close to him. His watering mouth soaked through her dress and her lacy bra and when he pulled away to attack the other it left the last cold. 

The sweet burn of Diego's ministrations allowed Haagen's to wash away like footprints on a sandy beach. All that mattered now was Diego, and the unexpectedly tender way he fucked her like she really was the mother of his children. It made her ache where it shouldn't have, deep in her chest, but she didn't fight it and soon the tightening coil in her core won over her attention. 

Diego moaned with his mouth still on her and Jazmine keened in response, wrapping her fingers in his hair and dragging his head up to look at her. His pupils were blown wide but the light from the window still illuminated the deep brown ring of his eyes in a way that was so hypnotic she couldn't look away. 

His lip curled (of course) and the unhinged mischief of his former self shone through. "Want another..." 

She couldn't tell if it was a question for her or a statement from him. He kept her bouncing on his cock as his eyes drifted down to her mouth and back up again. Every time she came down it was harder and deeper than before as she let her whole weight crash into him. "Put another baby in you, huh, muñeca? Make it three…" 

That should not have been as hot as it was. Jazmine whined involuntarily and put both of her hands on his chest to push him onto his back, stalling their impeccable rhythm for a second as she basked in how deep his dick really went. 

He could do it. For real– his cock was naked in her pussy and he had the length to do it better than most. Oh fuck, it's curved, she thought, wishing she was fucking him the other way around. Can't stop now. Can't wait. 

Jazmine began to ride Diego and listened to all the filthy things that fell from his lips. No wonder I married you. 

"Yeah, querida? You like this dick? Want me to cum inside and paint a pretty picture?" 

"Yesss," she hissed. "Oh god. Fuck…" 

"That's it, mama, keep fucking yourself. Don't need my help, do you? Got it all figured out. Put a baby in you and watch you grow again…" 

Jazmine gasped, she was so close, hanging right on the edge. "Fuck, daddy…" 

She didn't even know she'd said the magic word, but the pair came together, and hard. Diego's grip on her waist was bruising and merciless, he filled her up with all he had and then some, and just to make it extraordinary, he made her hips grind into him for good measure. Jazmine's mouth dropped low and saliva dribbled out and dripped into his shirt, her hands tearing a button off as her pussy clenched down on his pulsating cock for a true flood. She was seeing stars when the torrent of endorphins finally drew back, and she collapsed onto his chest, boneless and gasping for air. 

When their breathing had finally slowed down, Jazmine moved just enough of her weight to make them both comfortable without adding distance– for her sake as much as his. There was sweat cooling in the small of her back, Diego’s chest rose and fell beneath her head, and the memory of Haagen faded away like static on a television set. 

“So,” Diego hummed, “I take it that was a bit of a fantasy of yours, eh?” 

Jazmine’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Three kids, a house, and a spouse?” She thought about it for a moment and shrugged, “doesn’t everyone, in their own way?” 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

"I will admit it was probably most definitely brought on by this," she plucked at his white shirt, smirking with pride at the missing button and pocketing it in her drenched bra. "You look like… well I don't know exactly but this shirt screams normal and I figured you couldn't possibly own something like that." 

Diego hummed but offered no explanation for the unusual attire. He could probably go incognito through a crowd and never be seen with that thing. Now uncomfortable, Jazmine sat up and flung off her dress, admiring the red handprints on her sides. She lay back down into his embrace and chuckled. 

"What?" 

She started drawing circles on his chest with a finger. “I wasn’t sure you could get off without, you know, an audience.” 

Diego shrugged his shoulders (jostling her head in the process) and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “of course I can come without an audience. It’s a preference, not a medical condition.” 

“Oh right, sure. Sure.” The warm hand on her back began to slide, tracing up her sides and just short of cupping her face, she felt his fingers graze her earlobe. A groan of irritation ripped through her throat. “I guess you did get an audience after all.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean exactly?” 

Jazmine took her sweet time answering him as she rolled up and over top of him to get to the other side of the bed and to touch the room light remote on the nightstand. Now brighter in the slick black design of Diego’s bedroom, she leaned over him on her elbow and pointed. 

Directly at her fake hearing aid. 

Diego stared for a moment before his cheeks puffed and he blew a raspberry trying to hold his laugh. It exploded from his chest like a bark and his entire body curled into it, which in turn warmed Jazmine to join in. For as cool and unbothered as Agent Healy portrayed himself, there was no way he could have been able to ignore the sounds on the other end of the listening device by the sheer volume of the activities on the receiver. 

Ever the exhibitionist, Jazmine was not surprised to find Diego’s hand pressing into the back of her neck to draw her closer. She rolled her eyes when he leaned forward to speak directly into the microphone, “like what you heard, Healy?” 

The answer came in an instant. Just as Jazmine was debating whether to settle back into the bed or to get up, Diego’s phone rang. The man was having far too much fun as he pushed her under him and reached for the nightstand even though she was closer. His knee fell between her sensitive thighs as he checked the screen. Despite everything, he still looks at her with disbelief as Healy’s contact glares back at him. 

Healy’s voice sounded somehow right coming from a speaker. It matched the sometimes robotic way he delivered them lines about his purpose or his plan. “Yes, Mr. Jimenez, I am always on the edge of my seat when you make a pass at my informant.” 

The expression only flashes for a second across his face, but for a moment Diego looked as uncomfortable as Jazmine felt. It was strange, knowing the name and the face of the person who was surveilling you. Knowing they hear everything all of the time and forgetting, only to remember and wonder if you’ve done something to warrant the shame and embarrassment that floods through you upon recollection. Jazmine was more often than not completely unaware of the thing until it beeped its death notes. She would have to remember to set a schedule for charging it every night, as Healy had suggested before. 

“It’s fascinating the things people get up to when they think they’re alone,” Healy continued, “but if it is any consolation to you, Miss. Mann, I am accustomed to turning a blind eye– or ear, I suppose– to your nonessential activities.” 

Well at least that was something. Diego hung up (or Healy did, she wasn’t paying attention), then turned to look her in the eye with a mischievous glint. 

“What?” 

“Jazz Mann.” 

“Shut the– I’m going to fucking strangle you.”

~~~~~

Alrighty, I think this was pretty successful! But know that it’s all downhill from here (OK, mostly downhill from here). 

@1zashreena1​ @kid-from-new-zealand​ @nicke0115​ @girlpornparadise​ @mental-bycatch​ 

[chelsfic]

Part Two - Wish You Weren’t Here - Diego Jiménez x Reader - Starz Power fanfic

Part One

A/N: I think this spun out of my control when the angst train left the station. Oh well???

Warnings: Same as before with the smut, exhibitionism, forced audience to exhibitionism. Only this time we’ve got some angst!! and also the reader has a panic attack due to her phobia of heights. Oh yeah and there’s a mention of murder?

***

When you step off the elevator the first thing you’re aware of is the noise coming from the living room. Whining, mewling female cries underlaid with Diego’s strained, masculine grunts and the obscene, wet sound of his dick slamming into his latest conquest. You take a little breath and square your shoulders. This is your new normal and you’re determined to face it. And the little stab of jealousy that cuts you from inside is barely even there anyway.

The penthouse’s open floor plan means you have an immediate line of sight on the activities as soon as you step out of the elevator alcove. Diego’s back is toward you, his muscles taught with effort as he buries himself inside the woman from behind. She’s pressed up against the window wall, her skin making loud squeaks against the glass each time he thrusts roughly into her. Damnit, Diego. Are you going to have to clean those windows every single day?

Diego hears the elevator chime as you arrive and he’s craning his neck to watch you over his shoulder, his teeth bared in a lustful grimace. You avoid his eyes and move into the kitchen, determined to start your work day as if your boss isn’t putting on an exhibitionist show in the next room. But Diego won’t let you get away that easy.

He calls your name in a voice that’s broken with lust and you close your eyes for a second, trying to master your body’s reaction to this man. Diego isn’t having it, “Come here, little girl! Now!”

The last word is an order barked out in the forceful tone he reserves for subordinates and you have no other option but to obey. Still, you drag your feet, making your way slowly toward the writhing couple and keeping your gaze fixed on the floor. 

Diego groans and whines at you, “Get your ass over here.”

“Diego,” you sigh, finally stopping a couple feet away and still determinedly averting your gaze. Your voice shakes, “You know I don’t like being so close to the windows…”

Yeah. Sure. That’s the problem here. But you’re not lying. In addition to the jealousy, arousal, embarrassment, and confusion, you also feel that telltale shaky panic you always get when you’re too close to a high ledge. 

Diego doesn’t stop frantically thrusting his hips as he responds, “I’ll keep you safe. Come here.”

He removes a hand from the woman’s ass and reaches out to you. God, you can not be swooning over this man telling you he’ll keep you safe while he’s fucking another woman. Right? RIGHT?

You slide cautiously forward and Diego hooks his arm around you, hugging you to his side even as he continues burying himself in this woman who still moans and writhes with abandon. He doesn’t try to cop a feel, he’s just holding you against his naked body. Your cheek presses against his muscled chest and you feel the instinctual urge to wrap your arms around him but you hold back. You need to stay detached. Your nascent attraction to your boss is already a problem without being drawn into his sex life as some...pitiful observer. With nothing to look at except the woman’s back and the perilous view from the windows you simply turn and bury your face into the crook of Diego’s arm. He threads his fingers through your hair gently even as his other hand digs bruisingly into the woman’s hip as he slams into her, grunting with his release. 

Once it’s over he pulls away from both of you with a disorienting alacrity. You’re standing there stupidly, not sure what to do with yourself (and aching with discomfort at the moisture between your legs). The girl tries to pull Diego into a kiss but he presses a stack of bills into her hands and pushes her towards the elevator. She’s still nude, holding the money and her dress in her hands as she walks out. 

Diego pulls on a pair of tight jeans and collapses onto the couch, grabbing the remote control and flicking on the giant television inlaid into the wall opposite the couch, looking casual as ever. 

You take a deep breath, hand to your chest, trying to get a hold of yourself. You glance around and notice the obscene streaks on the window where the woman’s body had pressed against the glass. You let out a sigh and go to fetch the glass cleaner. 

Diego snakes out a hand and grabs the bottom of your t-shirt as you pass by the couch. 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the TV as he speaks, “Sit with me for a little while.”

For a second you’re at a loss for words as your brain tries to keep up with Diego’s rapid mood changes. Lust...dismissal...neediness. You’re also working through your own tumult of emotions. You’re still--ahem--worked up about what just happened. And confused about feeling jealous. And humiliated at being the third wheel to this man to whom you’re growing increasingly more attached despite your best efforts. 

“I was going to clean the window? It’s all...smudged. Again. Maybe--maybe you could do that someplace else next time?” You can’t look at him. In fact you’d really like to hide in a little nook for a while or possibly the rest of eternity.

He just pats the seat next to him and dismisses your concern, “It can wait.”

You let out a shaky sigh and settle stiffly beside him on the couch. Diego is lying stretched out on the cushions and as soon as you sit he scoots up to rest his head in your lap, giving a little contented sigh as he flips through the channels. Your face is stricken with indecision, your hands hovering in the air over him. What is he doing? And why? And...oh god the wetness between your legs is a damning sign of your lingering arousal--can he? You might die.

You finally rest your hand on his bare shoulder, fingers tentatively rubbing gentle circles into his skin. Diego purrs in satisfaction and nuzzles his face against your thigh. Yeah, you’re dead now. But he just lays there, head in your lap, one hand wrapped around your knee, and watches a soccer match on TV. Questions swirl through your mind and you start talking before your brain has a chance to do anything about it.

“Diego, why do you--I mean...,” you flounder and grasp for words to voice questions you’re afraid to ask. Why did you do that? Why did you pick me? Why do you...like me? What do you want? But--even after being forced to watch him in his most unguarded, intimate moments--you can’t bring yourself to voice these questions that are too personal to be asking your boss.

It doesn’t matter because--yet again--Diego reads your mind. His voice holds a tone of amused condescension as he speaks, “You seem so...innocent. And good. It’s funny! I like to watch you get all embarrassed and flustered.”

You narrow your eyes at the back of his head, annoyed to have your fears confirmed: that he’s just been toying with you for his own amusement. But when you remove your hand from his shoulder to card your fingers through his hair and he gives another contented purr you start to question if he’s being straight forward with you. He clings to you like someone starved for affection--which--that can’t be true considering what you’ve just witnessed, right? But this is different, isn’t it? Diego is soft and comfortable. He’s not putting on a show. He’s seeking comfort from someone...what? Different? Someone who doesn’t know shit about his business. Someone who’s afraid of getting high off cocaine by accidentally breathing it in? Someone he calls...innocent? And good?

The elevator doors ping and all at once Diego stiffens in your lap, sitting up and roughly pushing your hand away. It’s beyond stupid that you feel hurt at his sudden withdrawal. But you do. His whole demeanor changes before your eyes, face closing off, guards coming up. One of his guys strides forward and you see him eyeing you sitting on the couch with little invisible question marks in the air around his head. Diego does too.

“Get back to work,” he orders, voice cold and hard once more. You nod and get up, scurrying away to get started on your chores and determinedly suppressing the hurt feelings that he’d only see as another sign of your weakness.

***

Diego’s been enjoying toying with you for a few weeks before he starts to question if he’s let you get too close. It’s the night of the roof top party when Ángel starts asking insolent questions that he should no better to keep to himself.

“Yo, Diego! That new maid you have is cute as hell, huh?”

Diego is lounging on the rooftop patio, an amazonian beauty currently worshiping him on her knees. His face darkens and he regards the other man with narrowed eyes.

He addresses him between gasps of pleasure, his words rushed, “I told you before she’s not for you, Ángel.”

Ángel laughs and claps Diego on the shoulder, “It’s like that? Never thought Diego Jiménez would catch feelings...”

Diego’s orgasm interrupts the conversation. He grabs the girl by the hair and holds her head still as he fucks into her mouth, grunting with aggressive passion as he finishes. Ángel looks away, backs off. He misses the murderous gleam in Diego’s eye.

***

It’s hard to call it a routine since Diego’s life is so chaotic and unpredictable--but you get used to the flow of events that surround your employer. Most days you arrive at the penthouse to find a massive mess from the party the night before. You grumble and sigh and shoot annoyed glances at him when he deigns to wake up, but you remind yourself that the money is enough to pay off your car loan sooner and maybe (finally) move into a better apartment--so you deal with it. 

The other stuff is more... difficult. Sometimes all you have to endure is watching a gorgeous woman’s walk of shame as she leaves the apartment. But other times it’s...more. Diego definitely loves an audience. And you seem to be his favorite. He always wants you touching him in some way while he takes his pleasure from the nameless women who line up to sleep with him. You’re disgusted with yourself that you keep letting him play with you like this. But a part of you wants to be near to him anyway you can, delighting that he lets you this close, even if it’s downright insulting. What if this is all he ever offers you?

You shake those morose thoughts from your head as you enter the penthouse and do a double take at the pristine rooms. Nothing out of place, no half-dressed bodies passed out on the furniture? You practically skip into the living room thinking how much easier your day will be because Diego--apparently--spent a single night not partying. 

You should have known better.

Diego’s bent over the coffee table as you walk in, snorting a line of coke off the glass. You freeze in place, feeling like you’ve disturbed a private moment. Which is beyond dumb, girl--how many of Diego’s “private moments” have you witnessed? But you’ve never seen him getting high before…

He wipes his nose and looks up at you with bright eyes, cracking his neck with pent up energy. He has a look on his face that’s positively feral and you take a step back, feeling fear you haven’t felt in weeks. 

“Diego. Are you...okay?” you ask. Are you okay? He’s probably feeling just fine--what is the matter with you?

He smirks cruelly up at you, “Sweet, innocent, Y/N. You’re scandalized? Really? You know what I am.”

You try to sound casual and non-judgmental as you reply. Of course you know what he does for business. It’s just...

“It’s just...I’ve never seen you--”

“You want me to fuck you so bad but you can’t handle all of me, can you? Little girl,” derision drips from his words. Okay, what the fuck?

You feel tears stinging your eyes at his words. So this is what he’s like when he’s high. Charming. You turn from him and walk over to the closet to grab your cleaning supplies.

“Hey,” he calls after you, “You need to go up to the patio and clean up. We were up on the roof last night.”

You freeze with your back to him, feeling the creeping sensation of panic on the back of your neck. Is he kidding?

“Diego...I--I can’t do that…”

He stands and looms over you, his eyes are mean.

“What the fuck am I paying you for? There’s a mess up there that needs cleaning.” 

“But--”

He puts his hand on the back of your neck and squeezes. Just as he did that first day. You don’t understand why he’s being like this. He’s been so soft with you lately. You try a different tactic, bringing your hand up to cup his stubbled jaw as you look into his eyes. His eyes melt a little at your touch.

“You know how I’m afraid of heights. Isn’t there someone else…”

But his eyes harden again almost immediately and he rips away from you. You barely catch a panicked look on his face as he turns away. He’s let himself be too vulnerable with you. He can’t afford that. Not if people are starting to notice.

“I pay you to clean,” he says in a monotone, with his back on you. “Go do that.”

***

The biblical mess that awaits you on the rooftop patio is actually a blessing in disguise. It’s so bad that you’re too busy to acknowledge your crippling fear for a little while. It’s only after the first hour of bagging, scrubbing and disinfecting--when things are starting to look more civilized--that you feel the fear return. It’s about time to head down and toss the trash anyways, so you make your way to the door, lugging three full garbage bags. 

A painful knot in your throat forms when you see the door sealed shut. You’d left a chair propping it open so you wouldn’t get locked out, but the chair is on its side and the door stands shut, like a stone locking you inside a tomb. 

Okay, wow--that was really melodramatic. Maybe it’s not locked. You try the knob. Definitely not moving. Calm, deep breaths. You set the bags down and try the door knob again, turning it in all directions, pulling, pressing and tugging with increased energy as the panic takes hold. You’re stuck. You’re stuck up here. The wind blew the chair over. What if. What if...oh my god.

No. You’re not getting blown away with the wind. There is a--very inadequate--fence around the roof to protect you. You’ll be fine. You’ll just...send a text Diego and he’ll come let you inside and it will all be…

Fine.

To: Beefy Boss Boi

Hey I’m stuck up on the roof. Can you come let me back inside? Thanks.

You force yourself to sound cool and collected in the text, even as you’re getting down on your hands and knees and starting to shake. Diego will get the message and be here before you know it.

***

Nothing like an unexpected visit from his sister to completely destroy Diego’s fucking high. Not like he was really enjoying himself, he admits. Sitting around thinking about how hurt you looked when he was mean to you earlier. Fuck. It’s worth it, though. He can’t keep letting you get under his skin. If Alicia even suspected there was someone he-- nope. Fuck that train of thought. Diego does not catch feelings. He fucks. And parties. And occasionally hurts people for fun. That’s it.

He thinks about fucking Ángel asking questions about you last night. Insinuating. Had he really been so transparent? That motherfucker won’t be talking again...ever. But he needs to end this anyway.

And now he’s got the queen of all buzzkills to help him get yo off his mind. Fucking hooray.

She swans through his penthouse, looking around critically as if she’s inspecting the housekeeping. Diego feels a flare of anger on your behalf. But when she finally gets around to the purpose of her visit it’s a familiar criticism.

“You’re having too many parties, Diego. You need to fucking calm down for a while. Too many people in and out of this place. Who screens these people? Who knows who they go and talk to afterwards? Do you understand me?”

Diego’s phone vibrates from inside his pocket but he ignores it. 

“I screen them, Alicia,” he responds stonily. She has no faith in him. 

“Diego, I’m not asking. I’m telling. Cool it for a while.”

She leaves and Diego stalks into his bedroom like a sullen teen. Fucking bitch.

***

You’ve sent Diego about twenty text messages and he’s still not here. It’s been about an hour since you realized you were trapped and you’re just curled up on the ground clutching your phone to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut. Imagine you’re someplace safe. Ugh! Your mind decides to supply you with an image of Diego’s stupid face. Diego who is ignoring your texts because he’s mad at you for no reason?

Finally, the door slams open and you hear his voice call your name. You’re too far gone to even look up. He rushes over and wraps his arms around you, holding you to his chest and pressing soft kisses into your hair. A faint voice inside pipes up and says you should try to enjoy this feeling while it lasts. A louder voice is still wailing, Danger! Danger! Danger!

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers, tucking his arms underneath you and picking you up in one swift motion. Ugh, first time in your life getting carried bridal-style by a guy strong enough to lift your dead weight ass and you’re basically incoherent. You cling to his shoulders with bruising force until you’re back in the safety of the stairwell. 

When he finally gets you back into the penthouse you nearly sob with relief. You never thought you’d feel so safe in this place. He tucks you into the leather couch and leaves to dash up to his bedroom, returning with the massive coverlet stripped from his bed. He wraps you in it, cocooning you in the rich fabric until you feel like a safe little burrito. He’s so attentive and considerate. So...not Diego. He tucks the blanket around you and then just kneels there next to you, watching your tear streaked face as you take everything in.

How are you supposed to deal with this? Earlier he was so cruel and now he’s acting all...sweet and caring. You have whiplash from his mood swings. You decide you don’t need to deal with anything right now except calming down and feeling better. You lay your head back against the armrest and close your eyes, steadying your breathing.

Diego stares down at you. He’s still feeling the aftereffects of the fear that had gripped him when he finally glanced at his phone and saw all of your increasingly panicked text messages. How could he ask you to go up there when he knows how scared you are of heights? He’d been selfish and juvenile. Everything Alicia thinks of him is true. He scowls in self disgust and clenches his fists in his hair. So stupid!

You open your eyes to see Diego’s anguished expression and you feel every ounce of anger and betrayal bleed out of your system. You lift a hand to cup his cheek and whisper, “Thanks for coming to get me.”

Diego frowns and answers, “The next time I ask you to do something like that. Tell me no. Okay? You...you don’t have to do whatever I tell you. You’re…”

Different...special...beautiful...innocent...good…

But he can’t say the words. Of course he can’t. Instead he leans down and presses his lips to yours, kissing you with all of the grace and gentleness you’ve never seen him give to any of his lovers. 

When he pulls away you can already see the seed of regret and denial in his eyes but you choose to ignore it for now.

Tags (message or ask to be added/removed):

@1zashreena1​ @lannister-slings-and-arrows @glowingpena​ @flower-petal-blooming​ @symbiont13​ @pullthedamnlever​ @sparrows-books​ @joalsglasses​ @ishqinbbc​ @pre-schoolervengance​ @skys-luce-stellare​

[girlpornparadise]

The Caged Bird Moans (pt 6)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~ 1700

Warnings:  It’s a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that’s not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren’t your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I’ve set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn’t offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don’t hate on me for my bullsh*t.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

You know you’re betraying your family name, and you don’t care. They’re the reason you’re in this mess to begin with. You wonder why you are still his prisoner but don’t really mind at this point. The families must be in some kind of pissing contest, full of machismo fueled exchanges and threat filled arguments.

No matter. You have run of the condo with no real desire to leave. He provides you only with his shirts from now on figuring you won’t try to escape with so little clothing and no shoes. He loves to see you in his shirts because you are cloaked in him and are unmistakably his. He leaves a plush blanket on the couch if you get cold and when you wrap it around you, you imagine his embrace.

When it’s time for business to be conducted you hide in the guest room. You turn the TV loud to drown out the arguments. You occasionally hear Diego’s aggressive demeanor above the din and it sends a bit of a thrill through you to be chosen by a man who commands so much respect.

A few more days pass and you swim in the ecstasy of being with him. The demands to take you over and over, on any surface, at any time. The beauty you find in every detail of his body. The genuine affection you have for him, but that he can’t reciprocate.

He comes into your room in the evening as you read a trashy mystery novel he had brought to you. You put the book down and perk up, excited to see him. You feel your body begin to buzz at the thought of him claiming you again.

His demeanor lacks its usual bravado though, and you find yourself filled with concern. His posture is slightly slumped and his arms fall at his sides without their usual forced tension.

He sits down next to you on the bed and puts his hand over yours, both now resting on your thigh.

“Oh my good girl.” he sighs. “I go to finalize your release tonight.” He looks genuinely saddened behind his usually stone-faced facade. 

You can’t help your sadness as tears threaten to well. He cups your face more gently than he ever has and looks deep into your eyes. 

“I could never keep you, my caged little bird.” His voice as soft as his gaze.

He plants a kiss on your lips, wet but almost chaste. He caresses your cheek and as a tear rolls down it, his thumb firmly brushes it away.

When you open your eyes, he smooths his hand over your hair, and crooks a small smile at you.

You reach out to his chest as he leans in to kiss you again. You scrape your hands across the soft fabric covering his broad surface and his lips seek yours, hungrily massaging them. You smile into his mouth as you feel his gruff facial hair brush against your chin.

He tenses and relaxes beneath your roving touch, his heavy breathing betraying the desperation he feels for you and you feel his chest rise and fall beneath your hands.

He cups your breasts through your shirt, feeling their warmth and weight in his hands and kisses you once more.

He shifts his weight and he lays you down gently on your back. And for the first time, he makes love to you. It’s not his usual aggressive, lust fueled peepshow. This time it isn’t a conquest, but a goodbye letter in physical form.

His hands are gentle as he caresses your skin. The bare inside of your forearm, the nape of your neck, the ridge of your collarbone. He pecks gentle kisses along your neck and jaw, and you close your eyes in a waking dream.

He unbuttons the shirt you’re wearing slowly as he watches your movements. The heave of your breasts under his strong hands makes his cock twitch inside of his pants. He opens your shirt and takes your breasts in his palms as he rubs them, circling his thumbs slowly across the sensitive skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth and swirls his tongue as it hardens beneath his heat. You sigh heavily.

As he pushes himself up off of the bed, you reach for the buttons on his shirt and work them open to release him from its confines. You drag your hands slowly down his chest, his abs, to his pants. You remove the belt and undo his fly.

As you release his straining cock he reaches down and discards his remaining clothing. You feel the warmth of the skin on his legs brushing against yours and his erection grazing against you as he positions himself over top of you.

He slides his hand between your wet folds and pushes two of his fingers past your threshold. As he drags them along your walls you roll your hips to his rhythm.

He’s watching your face this time, reading your twitches and whimpers, trying to decipher the key to your ecstasy.

He removes his hand and licks the slick off of his fingers. He holds his cock firmly and glides it into you slowly, agonizingly slowly so you feel every inch settling into you.

He rocks slowly and deliberately this time, savouring every moment inside of you. You grab desperately at him, never wanting to let him go. You are clinging to the moment and all of the heat, sweat, fire and passion passing between you. This brief eternity being precious to you both.

As he presses his hips more firmly against you, lingering in your depths, your pleasure crests and you exhale his name. This sends him over the edge and he empties his body into yours with a gentle final push.

You reluctantly release your grasp on him and let him fall to your side. Your eyes study him, trying to memorize him in this moment. He’s unguarded and radiates a peacefulness his lifestyle so rarely affords him. You both lay still for a moment, lost in each other’s breathing.

“You’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.” You gently say as you reach over and stroke his jaw.

“That’s our little secret.” He replies, those cheeky dimples melting your heart.

He kisses your forehead and gets up off the bed. He pulls on his boxers and pants. You watch him zip them up then he retrieves his shirt, which he buttons up and smooths down until he decides himself presentable.

As he leaves, he doesn’t speak, but he pauses at the door and looks at you longingly. With the slightest of nods, he takes his leave. You lay back looking at the ceiling as you try to untangle what you’re feeling from what is rational and true. The impossible knot has manifested itself in your stomach as a mangled ache. You try to breathe steadily and drift in and out of a dreamless sleep for a few hours.

When you wake, you sit on the bed, waiting anxiously for the next move. You picture Diego and his henchmen taking you blindfolded to an alley for some kind of hand-off. You decide you watch too many movies.

Suddenly an uneasy feeling hits the pit of your stomach, and your heart beats faster. Intuition is telling you that something is about to happen and it isn’t what you’d just been picturing.

The elevator dings and you hear a major commotion as several men trample into the penthouse.

“Find her!” Says a commanding and somehow familiar voice.

In a panic, you back yourself into the corner of the room, next to the window and pull your knees up to your chest, hugging yourself into a ball.

The room’s door swings open and crashes into the wall as 3 men with guns enter. You tense at their sight, but when they see you and that the room is clear, they lower their weapons. 

“She’s in here.” One of them shouts. 

In rushes their boss, your grandfather. He sees you shaking and barely clothed and pulls the duvet off the bed to wrap you in it. He crouches down beside you as you’re swaddled by its warmth.

You’re relieved that it’s him, but still in shock. 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. You’re safe now."  He reassures you.

You take deep, gasping breaths, still shaking.

"He can’t hurt you now. We’ve made sure of that.” In your addled state you look at him, confused.

“Diego Jimenez is dead sweetheart. He’ll never lay a finger on you again.”

Your heart stops and your body goes cold and suddenly you can’t hold back and the floodgates open. You sob uncontrollably into your grandfather’s arms.

He mistakes your tears for the tears of trauma, assuming your fear found its resolution. They are tears of relief he tells himself. The tears that will begin your healing from the whole ordeal.

You sob and heave and struggle to catch your breath and it continues for what feels like hours. He lets you wear yourself out, and when the sobbing subsides and your body stops shaking you are handed some warm clothes.You dress yourself and are escorted to the elevator.

Your grandfather wants a doctor to examine you, but you persuade him to let you go home instead. You’ve never felt so old or exhausted in your life.

“You are free now little bird.” You tell yourself sadly.

***

You return to your family and they coddle you for a while. There are big celebrations and intimate dinners, and you eat and try to laugh when you’re expected to. There are therapists to help you process the trauma, but despite the promise of confidentiality, you make up most of your harrowing ordeal. Anyone could be on the family payroll. Anyone.

You must conceal the sadness in your heart. At the loss of a man you were falling for, but could never be yours. You keep him as a secret, locked away from everyone you know, lest your family disown you. 

You eventually leave the city and your life returns to normal. But when you’re alone, late at night, the intense passion seared in your memory and in the fibers of your body makes you wistfully smile and your heart longs to be caged once more.

[bedlamfoundry]

Tony McGuinness from Above & Beyond: 5 hour deep livestream set - June 14, 2020 [@Anjunadeep ]

Subscribe to our channel: https://aboveandbeyond.ffm.to/ytsub Stream us on Spotify: https://Anjunabeats.lnk.to/AboveBeyondSpotifyYo Tony from Above & Beyond with an epic Sunday deep set, livestreamed from his home in London. Broadcast June 14, 2020. Buy Above & Beyond merchandise and music: https://anjunastore.com More Above & Beyond live sets: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6RLee9oArCCFkbSmURt8xV3aVKRGCDKj 1. Wuachuma - Iréne (Original Mix) 2. M.O.S. & Bona Fide - Bengali 3. Ronfoller - Along 4. Gorje Hewek, Izhevski - Zakkat (Original Mix) 5. I.D. - I.D. 6. Kora - Kanjira 7. Gorje Hewek, Izhevski - Calinerie (Original Mix) 8. Nutia - Papo (Lake People Remix) 9. Paul2Paul - Brain Loved (Original Mix) 10. BLANCAh - Learning to Fly [Kris Davis Groove Remix] 11. Volen Sentir - C.a.m. (Original Mix) 12. Travertia - Vetka (Original Mix) 13. Modd - Ruskeala 14. GIOKA - Noa (Original Mix) 15. Valdovinos - C Moon (Original Mix) 16. GMJ & Matter - Gauntlet (Alex O'Rion Alternative Mix) 17. Agata', Vlad Che - Liar Bird (Sunchain Remix) 18. Wood Drift - Stronger Now (Original Mix) 19. Garance, QLONS - Rama (Original Mix) 20. Alex O'Rion & Antrim - Imagine (Original Mix) 21. Jamie Stevens, Joe Miller - Wanderjahr (Original Mix) 22. Marino Canal - The Endless Fall (Khen Remix) 23. I.D. - I.D. 24. Juan Pablo Torrez - Rome (Rauschhaus Remix) 25. Maxxim - Lagoona (Original Mix) 26. Kamilo Sanclemente - From The Sky (Original Mix) 27. I.D. - I.D. 28. Shmuel Flash - Chilling Moments (Golan Zocher, Choopie melodic version) 29. Dmitry Molosh, Quivver - Forest Moon (Dmitry Molosh Remix) 30. Lee Burridge, Lost Desert - Moogami (Original Mix) 31. WhoMadeWho, Rampa - Tell Me Are We 32. Carl Craig, Dubfire, Kate Elsworth - Lotus 33. Hermanez - Bullish Divergence (Original Mix) 34. DSF - Acacia (Original Mix) 35. Roy Rosenfeld - Eastern Love (Sebastien Leger Remix) 36. Twice As Nice - Overture (Guy J Mix) 37. Onur Ozman, Rumex - Out Of Distance (Just Her's 1am Mix) 38. Gux Jimenez - El Fin (Giovanny Aparicio Remix) 39. Julian Nates - Wild Side (Fabri Lopez Remix) 40. Underwater - Yotto Dawn Mix 41. Modulo, Monotribe - Panacea (Original Mix) 42. Diego Poblets - Waves (Matias Chilano Remix) 43. Franky Rizardo - I'm Feelin (Original Mix) 44. I.D. - I.D. 45. Parallel Universe - Trip 46. Sam Paganini - Polyester (Original Mix) 47. Andre Sobota & Felipe Novaes Prescience (Alex O'Rion Remix) 48. Juan Pablo Torrez - Nia (Original MIx) 49. Henry Saiz, Guy J - Meridian (Pryda Remix) 50. Walsh & Coutre & Darin Epsilon - Detour On 44 [Dousk Remix] 51. DJ Zombi - Octopus (Cid Inc. & Orsen Remix) 52. Guy J - Candyland Live dates: https://aboveandbeyond.nu/tour Website: https://aboveandbeyond.nu Facebook: https://facebook.com/aboveandbeyond Twitter: https://twitter.com/aboveandbeyond Instagram: https://instagram.com/aboveandbeyond #Anjunabeats #DeepHouse #LiveStream #BeFree #BeBeautiful #BeYOU #BeLOVE #BedlamFoundry #IAmBedlam #EDM #Above&Beyond #Paavo #Jono #Tony #A&B #Anjunabeats #Anjuna #ABGT #GroupTherapy #Anjunadeep #deephouse #livestream

[torentialtribute]

Nuno Espirito Santo vindicated for shelving cautious approach ahead of historic FA Cup semi-final

Published: 21:44 BST, April 2, 2019 | With a FA Cup semi-final on the horizon, and a chance to silverware to lift for the first Since 1980, Wolves' manager must have felt some temptation to take a break from Joao Moutinho, Diogo Jota or Conor Coady, three players who had also played the full 90 in Burnley on Saturday

But the only Jonny Otto, replaced by Ruben Vinagre, himself an exciting young prospect.

Nuno knows what he is doing, his team, and considering the majority were with him during the routine of winning the championship, he also knows that they can perform consistently during the cycle of midweek and weekend races. Only 18 different players have started the Premier League match this season.

So Moutinho, Jota and Coady were all chosen, just like Ruben Neves, Leander Dendoncker and Raul Jimenez to form the main attack unit of Nuno. You can imagine that Unai Emery, Mauricio Pochettino and Maurizio Sarri are watching with satisfaction.

It meant that while Wolves started frayed, grateful to Rui Patricio for two very good rescues on both sides of Scott McTominay's opening goal, they

Vinegar did an excellent job left over a to force an opening for Willy Boly to find Jimenez, who had thrown wide.

And from David De Gea's goal-kick, Wolves won the match, Moutinho, the midfielder as tenacious as he is technical, smothered on Fred & # 39; s poor touch, Dendoncker gave him to Jimenez and his pass to Jota was Perfection Ashley Young kept Jota on-side and the finish was infallible.

Jimenez and Jota have struck a wonderful partnership and this was the fourth goal of the last six for Wolves that one helped the other to

Nuno roared m he particular cruelty, possibly in response to McTominay & # 39; s earlier celebration that strangely came close to the wolf dugout, but probably because there are no better assets than forms of attack.

Jota will respond with confidence to the meeting with Watford. That adrenaline is much more effective for the next game than a night with your legs up.

<img id = "i-b2d258983646d681" src = "https://ift.tt/2UvaMm0 image-a-10_1554238052234.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-b2d258983646d681" src = "https://ift.tt/2OCv8EB /02/21/11782368-6879103-image-a-10_1554238052234.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" Iota and Chris Smalling's own goal helped Wolves with a new win over Manchester United Manchester United "

Jota and Chris Smalling's own goal helped Wolves with a new win over Manchester United

Jota came off in the 73rd minute, battered by Young, the United captain had it lucky to escape booking in the first half to retreat

When Wolves scrambled their way forward in the 77th minute, Nuno's selection was fully justified United was beaten again, 17 days after the quarterfinals from the FA Cup, causing the Wolves supporters to lose seven sets of house and car keys in the dormitory.

The sound of & # 39; sera sera & # 39; echoed around Molineux, with 34,000 looking ahead to Wembley. This moving result will feed their faith.

Share or comment on this article:

Source link

[piti2]

http://humanresourcesla.com/event/terror-en-lo-profundo/

Opening Saturday 12/8 7—10pm

On view through 12/21

Artistas / Artists: Rosalee Bernabe, Wendy Cabrera Rubio, Juan Caloca, Christian Camacho, Paloma Contreras Lomas, El Pelele, Elsoldelrac, Julieta Gil, Sebastián Gonzales de Gortari, Abraham Gonzáles Pacheco, Cristobal Gracia, Madeline Jimenez, Enrique López Llamas, Morgan Mandalay, Richard Mendtorr, Irak Morales, Jazael Olguín Zapata, Diego Ramírez, Marisa Raygoza, SANGREE, Israel Urmeer, Lucía Vidales, Tatyana Zambrano

El Popocatépetl solloza: enfurecido explosiona sus hirvientes y humeantes líquidas garras sobre tus largos campos de petróleo, silicio y maíz. Ruge a tu montañoso rostro exigiendo una respuesta, pero tus lánguidos labios de barro apenas pueden abandonar el llanto. Su cuerpo, roto y abnegado, estalla una última vez para abrir camino hacia lo profundo de tu propio terror colonial.

Deslave se complace de presentar “Terror en lo Profundo” para Human Resources LA, una exhibición conformada por el trabajo de 23 artistas que desde el humor, el horror y la ficción enuncian estrategias que analizan críticamente los estragos de los mecanismos de colonización, tanto del pasado como actuales, blandos o violentos, de sumisión o seducción.

La exposición se compone de pinturas y dibujos que dialogan, o se oponen, a los legados del arte occidental; objetos escultóricos que transitan entre la simulación y lo documental en relación con eventos prehispánicos o religiosos; trabajos de video que utilizan la puesta en escena para recrear, reimaginar o deconstruir eventos históricos o mitológicos; y una serie de prácticas conceptuales que analizan la encrucijada política entre tradición cultural y territorialidad.

Deslave es un proyecto curatorial y espacio para la producción, exhibición y discusión de arte contemporáneo. Actualmente dirigido por Mauricio Muñoz y Andrew Roberts, se encuentra ubicado en Tijuana desde la primavera de 2017.

www.deslave.art

The Popocatépetl mourns: enraged explodes its boiling and smoking liquid claws on your long fields of oil, silicon and corn. Demanding an answer, it roars to your mountainous face, but your languid lips made of mud can scarcely leave your profound weeping. His body, broken and self- sacrificing, bursts one last time to open a way to the depths of your own colonial terror.

Deslave is pleased to present Terror en lo Profundo for Human Resources LA, an exhibition comprised of the work of 23 artists who, from humor, horror and fiction, formulate strategies that critically analyze the ravages of colonizing mechanisms, both in the past and in the present, soft or violent, of submission or seduction.

The exhibition is composed of paintings and drawings that dialogue —or oppose— to the legacies of Western art; sculptural objects that transit between the simulation and the document in relation to pre-Hispanic or religious events; video works that use staging to recreate, re-imagine or deconstruct historical or mythological events; and a series of conceptual practices that analyze the political crossroads between cultural tradition and territoriality.

Deslave is a curatorial project and space for the production, exhibition and discussion of contemporary art. Currently run by Mauricio Muñoz and Andrew Roberts, it is located in Tijuana since the spring of 2017.

[cleopatrarps]

'Imagine the joy:' Father, four-year-old son reunite in U.S. immigration crisis

SAN BENITO, Texas (Reuters) – With tears and smiles, Salvadoran asylum seeker Walter Armando Jimenez Melendez reunited with his 4-year-old son Jeremy on Tuesday after six weeks of anguished separation.

“(I went) without knowing where he was – if he was eating, how they were treating him,” said Jimenez, 29, as he shared a meal with his child for the first time since May. “Imagine the joy I felt.”

The father said that he and his son were overcome with emotion when they set eyes on each other. The boy cried, he said. Asked if he was happy to see his dad, Jeremy shyly smiled and nodded.

Jimenez, who was held in two different facilities in Texas, said he did not learn he would rejoin Jeremy until four hours before and did not believe it until he saw the boy.

Jeremy was among 63 children under the age of five whom Judge Dana Sabraw in U.S. District Court in San Diego ordered the U.S. government to reunite with their parents by Tuesday. They were separated by immigration officials when they crossed into the United States from Mexico.

On Tuesday, Sabraw told government attorneys he would not extend that deadlines set two weeks ago for the children under five or for 2,000 other children to be reunited by July 26.

The government had asked Sabraw to extend the deadlines because it needed time to test DNA to confirm family relationships, run background checks, find parents who were released from custody and review parental fitness.

“We’ve saved kids’ lives by keeping them from being with some really evil people some of them,” Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar told CNN, adding that 38 children were to be reunited on Tuesday.

U.S. President Donald Trump, who took his hardline policy on immigration to the White House from the 2016 election campaign, was dismissive of reporters’ questions about the missed deadline.

“Tell people not to come to our country illegally,” he said. “That’s the solution.”

Walter Armando Jimenez Melendez, an asylum seeker from El Salvador, arrives with his four year-old son Jeremy at La Posada Providencia shelter in San Benito, Texas, U.S., shortly after he said they were reunited following separation since late May while in detention July 10, 2018. REUTERS/Loren Elliott

Not all of those separated from their children, however, had crossed the border illegally. Some, like Jimenez, walked up to a border crossing point and asked for asylum.

Trump stopped separating families last month following public outrage and court challenges.

More than 2,300 children were separated from their parents after the Trump’s administration announced its “zero tolerance” policy in early May. The government is seeking to prosecute all adults who crossed the border illegally. While parents are held in jail to await trial by a judge, children are moved into various centers across the country.

After U.S. immigration officials brought Jimenez and his son together on Tuesday afternoon, the pair went to La Posada Providencia, an emergency shelter for refugees in San Benito, Texas near the Mexican border.

Over a dinner of rice, bread, meat, ice cream and cookies at the shelter, one of the center’s nuns said a prayer of thanks for the reunion of the boy and his father. Jeremy, dressed in a denim jacket, smiled broadly at hearing his name mentioned.

The two left San Salvador on May 12 after Jimenez was extorted by a gang member at his home and later accused by police of being a gangster, the father said.

They gave themselves up at the Texas border on May 24 and they remained together for five days, Jimenez said. The two were separated on May 29 when border patrol agents said Jimenez had to attend a court hearing. Jimenez waited for two hours until they told him he would not be reunited with his child.

“They separated us with lies,” Jeremy said in Spanish. “More than mad, I was sad because I couldn’t say bye. I couldn’t give him a few words and tell him that everything would be all right.”

The father and son will move on by bus to Rock Hill, South Carolina, on Wednesday morning where they will be reunited with Jimenez’s wife and his stepson, the father said.

“Sometimes I try to be strong so as to not show him sadness,” said Jimenez, wearing a red polo and sporting short black hair and a light beard.

“I hope that from here on everything is pure joy for him and that he can quickly forget about all of this.”

Slideshow (7 Images)

Reporting by Salvador Rodriguez; Additional reporting by Marty Graham in San Diego; Sofia Menchu in Guatemala City; Tom Hals in Wilmington, Delaware; Kristina Cooke in San Francisco; and Jan Wolfe and Jonathan Allen in New York; Editing by Alistair Bell, Grant McCool and Lisa Shumaker

The post 'Imagine the joy:' Father, four-year-old son reunite in U.S. immigration crisis appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2JczzBY via News of World

[newestbalance]

'Imagine the joy:' Father, four-year-old son reunite in U.S. immigration crisis

SAN BENITO, Texas (Reuters) – With tears and smiles, Salvadoran asylum seeker Walter Armando Jimenez Melendez reunited with his 4-year-old son Jeremy on Tuesday after six weeks of anguished separation.

“(I went) without knowing where he was – if he was eating, how they were treating him,” said Jimenez, 29, as he shared a meal with his child for the first time since May. “Imagine the joy I felt.”

The father said that he and his son were overcome with emotion when they set eyes on each other. The boy cried, he said. Asked if he was happy to see his dad, Jeremy shyly smiled and nodded.

Jimenez, who was held in two different facilities in Texas, said he did not learn he would rejoin Jeremy until four hours before and did not believe it until he saw the boy.

Jeremy was among 63 children under the age of five whom Judge Dana Sabraw in U.S. District Court in San Diego ordered the U.S. government to reunite with their parents by Tuesday. They were separated by immigration officials when they crossed into the United States from Mexico.

On Tuesday, Sabraw told government attorneys he would not extend that deadlines set two weeks ago for the children under five or for 2,000 other children to be reunited by July 26.

The government had asked Sabraw to extend the deadlines because it needed time to test DNA to confirm family relationships, run background checks, find parents who were released from custody and review parental fitness.

“We’ve saved kids’ lives by keeping them from being with some really evil people some of them,” Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar told CNN, adding that 38 children were to be reunited on Tuesday.

U.S. President Donald Trump, who took his hardline policy on immigration to the White House from the 2016 election campaign, was dismissive of reporters’ questions about the missed deadline.

“Tell people not to come to our country illegally,” he said. “That’s the solution.”

Walter Armando Jimenez Melendez, an asylum seeker from El Salvador, arrives with his four year-old son Jeremy at La Posada Providencia shelter in San Benito, Texas, U.S., shortly after he said they were reunited following separation since late May while in detention July 10, 2018. REUTERS/Loren Elliott

Not all of those separated from their children, however, had crossed the border illegally. Some, like Jimenez, walked up to a border crossing point and asked for asylum.

Trump stopped separating families last month following public outrage and court challenges.

More than 2,300 children were separated from their parents after the Trump’s administration announced its “zero tolerance” policy in early May. The government is seeking to prosecute all adults who crossed the border illegally. While parents are held in jail to await trial by a judge, children are moved into various centers across the country.

After U.S. immigration officials brought Jimenez and his son together on Tuesday afternoon, the pair went to La Posada Providencia, an emergency shelter for refugees in San Benito, Texas near the Mexican border.

Over a dinner of rice, bread, meat, ice cream and cookies at the shelter, one of the center’s nuns said a prayer of thanks for the reunion of the boy and his father. Jeremy, dressed in a denim jacket, smiled broadly at hearing his name mentioned.

The two left San Salvador on May 12 after Jimenez was extorted by a gang member at his home and later accused by police of being a gangster, the father said.

They gave themselves up at the Texas border on May 24 and they remained together for five days, Jimenez said. The two were separated on May 29 when border patrol agents said Jimenez had to attend a court hearing. Jimenez waited for two hours until they told him he would not be reunited with his child.

“They separated us with lies,” Jeremy said in Spanish. “More than mad, I was sad because I couldn’t say bye. I couldn’t give him a few words and tell him that everything would be all right.”

The father and son will move on by bus to Rock Hill, South Carolina, on Wednesday morning where they will be reunited with Jimenez’s wife and his stepson, the father said.

“Sometimes I try to be strong so as to not show him sadness,” said Jimenez, wearing a red polo and sporting short black hair and a light beard.

“I hope that from here on everything is pure joy for him and that he can quickly forget about all of this.”

Slideshow (7 Images)

Reporting by Salvador Rodriguez; Additional reporting by Marty Graham in San Diego; Sofia Menchu in Guatemala City; Tom Hals in Wilmington, Delaware; Kristina Cooke in San Francisco; and Jan Wolfe and Jonathan Allen in New York; Editing by Alistair Bell, Grant McCool and Lisa Shumaker

The post 'Imagine the joy:' Father, four-year-old son reunite in U.S. immigration crisis appeared first on World The News.

from World The News https://ift.tt/2JczzBY via Everyday News

[1zashreena1]

No Shame -2

Pairing: M/F, nebulously OC/Priest!Diego Jimenez [Starz Power] AU IMAGINE

Rating: LITERAL FILTH

Warnings: Power imbalance, astronomical blasphemy, Diego’s pornographic mouth, old timey woman related bullshit, set some time before 1900 in what will be present day Mexico

A/N:  I guess I’m just gonna keep writing until it stops?? I am an atheist so please keep that in mind as I unintentionally mangle Christianity in general and Catholicism in particular. This was prompted by an ask, you know who you are >.>.

Tag a friend! @girlpornparadise​ @nicke0115​ @fleurfatale89​ @mandoplease​ @heresathreebee​ @chensingmachinee​​

It takes some effort to lace up a steel boned corset by yourself while wearing it, but you manage. 

"He already admitted to liking you, honey, calm yourself." Your father laughs uproariously at the ridiculous display of cleavage. 

You shrug helplessly, Dress to impress and all that, you suppose. Besides, I want him to suffer. This time you do wear all the underpinnings  deemed a requirement by polite society. You are going to make him work for it.

This was a mistake.

He had sent a cabriolet with its driver, that should have been your first clue. 

The hacienda is a sprawling estate, acres of land carved from the surrounding jungle and most likely painstakingly maintained. You pass through meticulously flattened fields with small cabins for workers and then gently rolling pastures closer to the main house. There is a large stable and an adjacent training paddock where two exquisite horses are being worked. You ache to see the beautiful animals, they had always been beyond the means of your family.

Several other carriages are already here. Oh no.

This is so far above your station that you feel sick. This is a world of landed gentry, of manners drilled in by formal boarding schools and titles you could never aspire to touch. You have severely misunderstood what it meant to be a Don.

Why did he do what he did in the church? Why invite me here? Why ask my father to court me? I am nothing compared to this. You despair silently, your father oblivious next to you. 

The servants seem to know who you are, And isn't that terrifying?, and you're led into some kind of sitting room with other guests. Your dress must be incredibly out of fashion, people are staring. Although it could be the vast stretch of cleavage on display, you make note that most of the other women are significantly smaller than you. Their brightly colored dresses are trimmed in lace with subdued skirts, your skirt has rather a lot of flounce to it and the lilac color seems so�� bland. Their hair is combed and neatly contained, artfully placed solitary ringlets that you know were made with curling tongs. Your natural curls are wild and expansive, the single twist at each of your temples combined into one long braid down your back only to keep it out of your face. There is a family of blondes, but everyone else is brunette. Your deep red hair is garishly out of place.

I do not belong here. You are desperately trying to fabricate some excusable sickness to beg off and escape when you see him. He has a smartly dressed woman hanging off of each arm and is gesticulating wildly while relaying some story. Dressed in garments so fine you do not even know what the material is, the sight of him makes your womanhood clench and your nipples pebble. 

Ridiculous. 

He catches sight of you as you are turning away. You spotted some books on a shelf in a corner and are about to seek refuge when he breaks away to head straight for you. For the first time in your life you opt for cowardice and run. From the edge of your vision you can see that all it does is lengthen those stalking strides. The books that were meant to be your salvation are, of course, in Spanish. Well damn.

An extremely large hand lands on your lower back and your heart leaps. He rumbles much too closely for polite company, "Buenas noches, Señorita. You look ravishable."

Did he mean ravishing? You make the mistake of looking up into that painfully handsome face. His grin is pure predator. No, he did not. Your temper flares with your desire.

"Good evening, Father." You hiss quietly. "You have a lot of nerve." Is it rude to immediately insult your host?

"Me? But yet, here you are. Tell me, little girl, did you wear anything under your skirts this time?" Those dark eyes twinkle happily. He is enjoying this. You lean down to place a book on the end table and his gaze drops to your chest. Licking his lips, he mutters under his breath, "We have a selection of proverbs here. Somewhere."

This man is infuriating. 

"Do you expect to find out?" The question is meant to sound condescending, it seems a tiny bit hopeful. Your brain is muddled by his proximity, the scent of expensive toiletries is highly distracting. You bathed outside under a spring fed waterfall this morning. What am I doing?

"I suppose that depends on how sinful you have been today. If you have yet to sin, may I offer my hand in assistance?" Diego leans closer with his seemingly solicitous offer. You are struck by the near perfect arrangement of his features, the tiny crinkles at the outer corners of his eyes only adding to his appeal. His lips are framed by perfectly trimmed facial hair, the smooth cheeks a sign that he must have shaved today. His smirk reminds you that you’ve been staring at him breathlessly. 

"I am sure I can handle myself." You smile beautifically. He exhales in a huff, his shoulders dropping in surprise at your innuendo. Then he smiles a real smile.

You are devastated. He is a very attractive man, but this, this is blinding. Your heart stutters, your stomach drops, and you nearly whimper. 

"I, I saw your horse." What? WHAT? Why did you just say that? "And the others, outside, on our way in." If you could melt into the wall and disappear that would be wonderful. 

The hand on your back rubs a small circle comfortingly. Diego steps closer yet, his hip brushes your elbow and you curse your stature. He quirks a brow with his next question, "Do you like to ride?"

He is fairly excited at the prospect of your answer but you have no idea why. You cross your arms to get a tiny bit of space from him, it only amplifies your bust. Sighing, you answer, "I do not know. My family was never in a position to own a horse." There. Now he knows how poor you truly are, just how far below him.

"A shame." He murmurs, "You are built for it." His hand sinks lower to the very top of your buttocks. There is something you are definitely missing here. Brow furrowing, you look up at him. His expression softens at your obvious confusion, but he is still quite pleased. His subsequent offer is charming, "After dinner, would you like to tour the stables?"

Your whole face transforms as you smile broadly. "I would love that." The wonder in your voice is unmistakable. 

"It will be my pleasure, little girl. Now, if you will excuse me, my sister is demanding my presence." He purrs. You follow his line of sight to a woman who looks vastly different from him, but has the same eyes. She arches a brow, just as Diego does, and gestures sharply. 

"Of course." You answer softly to no one as he is already strolling away. The loss of his presence makes you feel cold and very alone. 

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

Dinner is an ordeal. There are several courses, foods you cannot identify, and no less than three spoons. Dessert induces discreet gagging on your part as flan is very… jiggly.

Careful observation is enlightening, you learn that several other guests are Dons of neighboring towns. Their wives accompany them, but you get the distinct impression that the unmarried sisters and daughters are on display. You come to understand that Diego is the only bachelor Don of majority age in a 300 mile radius. 

This is a competition that you have no business being anywhere near.

And just how old is he?

You are sipping chocolate next to an archway in the open air courtyard, attempting to ignore the stares, when a dark voice assaults your ear temptingly.

"Are you ready, little girl?" The purring rattle makes your knees shake and your mouth salivate. 

"Oh yes please thank you now." Relief palpable,  you whip around to find Diego looming over you, the one hand being held out in invitation is now firmly squashed into your generous bosom. His brows climb to his hairline as you clear your throat. "I- yes."

He wiggles his fingers in your cleavage and you take his hand with more force than is strictly necessary. He grins down at you, "Very good, little girl."

You whimper. You cannot help it, the tiniest of noises, soft and high pitched, your lips do not even need to part for him to hear it. Please no, not here in front of all of your peers, you silently beg. Except, his face goes slack and his fingers tighten around yours. 

Oh. Do your noises have an effect on him? Is this power that you have? Experimentally, you lick your lips. His gaze drops and his pupils widen as he mimics your movements unconsciously. Oh yes, that curl of power surfaces again in your belly. This you can work to your advantage. You smirk, "Shall we?"

His dark gaze is hungry as he glares at you, displeased with the reversal in the play of power. He growls, "Yes, you shall ride."

You are drug off before you can protest about your attire not being made for such activities. You have a sneaking suspicion that his only suggestion would be to remove it. You are having trouble remembering why that is a bad idea while your hand is tucked into the crook of his massive arm, fingers curled around bulging muscle.

You need to clear your head.

The stables are dim in the evening light and the smell of grain strong. Your only pair of nice shoes clicks on the wooden floor as you pull away from him to look around. Diego releases you but watches closely. 

The horse's names are engraved on plaques above the stalls. Your casita does not even have a street address. I do not belong here. Your hands reach out to touch and a large nose appears over the stall door. "Hello," you check the plate, "Dante." Of course this is his horse.

The gray muzzle is soft as velvet and the stallion huffs at you in a blast of air that blows your hair back. The horse darts forward and you realize just how big he is. One step backwards to retreat lands you squarely in the middle of a broad chest.

"I will show you." Diego states simply. He reaches up with both hands on either side of you and takes the halter in his grasp firmly. With a gentle tug, Dante's head comes down and Diego curves over you to touch his forehead to the horse's. "Now you, little girl."

You reach up to take Dante in hand and the stallion rushes to do the same with you. His forelock tickles and you laugh delightedly. 

"He likes you." Diego declares.

"How do you know?" Intelligence shines brightly in the animal's eyes and you pet him.

"He bites everyone except me." Diego shrugs.

Oh. You hedge softly, "Maybe he senses that you like me." Diego snorts above you. Snippily, you elaborate, "Beg pardon? Are you often in the habit of asking to court women you do not like?"

"I have never asked to court another woman."

The rumbling admission gives you pause. Those massive hands settle on your hips and squeeze tightly. You continue petting Dante resolutely, determined to remain stoic. The hands slide inward, around your hips to spread wide over your entire abdomen. Everything inside you is aflame. Ever higher, his touch travels until he cups your breasts firmly. There is no give in the steel boned corset and the large man behind you growls in frustration. 

"Why would you wear such a thing?" His voice is rough with want, it makes you gasp. 

"For p-precisely this situation." Your retort is less bite and more whine. "You must understand that I am not some, some, plaything to be had, available at your beck and call."

His beard scrapes your neck as he leans down into you to whisper, "Are you certain, little girl?"

"I have already been the laughingstock of one community. I refuse to be the joke of another." Your voice shakes with anger. Or perhaps anticipation. It is difficult to tell as he licks your ear.

"Does this feel like play?" He growls as you are pressed to the stall door at your front. His hardened length bites into your lower back and he grinds his hips harshly. Your soft wail startles Dante and he shies away. 

"You will ride Dante and then you will ride me. After that, I will have my answer." He sinks teeth into your bared neck. What was the question? Your thoughts have stalled entirely. 

"I, I do not know how to. To ride." Rubbing your legs together, you keen quietly. Your center contracts down on nothing angrily and your fingers claw into the wood.

"I am quite certain that I can teach you. After all, you are a quick study." Diego releases you suddenly and your body trembles. He goes about the business of saddling his horse while you continue melting as you watch his muscles work.

Fully tacked and waiting, Dante snorts at you as Diego beckons. His dark eyes dance with mischief, "Come mount, little girl."

You set your shoulders with stubbornness and stomp to him. Motioning to the stirrups you bark, "I am too shor--"

Diego picks you up like a child and you scramble for the saddle. Your skirts get tangled between your legs and crushed underneath you when you sit. The feel of the saddle pressed hard to your core means that you do not care. Every time you shift or Dante moves the leather rubs you pleasantly. There is no escape from the stimulation and you can feel yourself becoming wet. You have no idea how much time has passed while you tried to acclimate to this new development. 

"Shit." Your unladylike hiss is deafening in the empty stable.

Diego doubles over in booming laughter and you suddenly remember the source of your current vexation.

"A warning would have been nice." You snap. He looks up at you with tears, his face scrunched up adorably. Your heart stops as you realize how beautiful he truly is.

"How do I warn for something I have never experienced?" He chokes and resumes laughing gleefully. Truly, an overgrown child.

You sigh, but pick up the reins determinedly and look down at him expectantly. Smiling broadly with your taunt, "I await your instruction, Father."

Those brown eyes flash with fire and you wonder briefly if you should be playing with that. He licks his lips but goes on to correct your seating, show you the proper way to utilize the reins, and then leads you out into a small paddock behind the building.

Walking is a noticeable feeling. Trotting is just painful. A canter is delicious torture. The stride is smooth and rocking, your exhilaration is twofold with dual excitement. Dante is responsive and feisty, you enjoy his personality and try not to examine why too closely. Diego intervenes occasionally to make small adjustments but has proclaimed you a natural with great enjoyment. 

It is almost dark when he leads you back inside the stable, your face beaming. You struggle to dismount, Diego simply hauls you off and plops you on the ground… Except your legs collapse.

Diego, The absolute cad, uses this opportunity to crush you to his chest and stabilize you by sliding a long leg between your own. The moment the pressure occurs you feel a vast amount of wetness. That cannot be good, you panic and shove away from him, stumbling over to a chest to sit. Your wild hair is a disaster and you hide behind it as you check your layers. Relief washes over you as the outer skirt is dry, only the three inner layers are soaked through.

"What?" You whisper to yourself in confused terror. Is this normal? Do all women have this response? Is there something wrong with me? Am I hurt? A shadow falling over the skirts pulls your attention as Diego kneels in front of you. His smirk eases your fears.

"Do you have a problem, little girl?" 

"You knew what would happen." You accuse softly. He does not even attempt to feign innocence. 

"Oh, of course." His pleased rumble is accompanied by a toothy grin. Your hand flashes out faster than you can see. The crack of the slap on his cheek is muffled by all of the equipment that lines the walls.

Oh no.

He lurches forward and you shriek. His left hand encircles both of your wrists and he slams them to the wall above your head. The right hand hits your center with considerable force. Your legs jump, but he has the left pinned and his bulk squeezed between. 

"I did not me--" He does not let you finish.

"I know what you meant. But do you?" Diego growls. You shake your head, a single tear slipping out. "Oh, but you are wet, are you not?" His fingers locate that pulsing bundle of nerves and he rubs slowly from side to side. Just as you had done in the confessional. 

"S-stop. The other p-people, my skirt, it is. P-please do not ruin me like this." You beg as tears drip steadily down your cheeks, eyes squeezed shut. The hand retreats, your skirt rustles as he slips under all of the layers and returns to you. The heat of his hand is like an open flame on your oversensitized center.

"It is simple. Do you want this or no?" The decision is anything but simple. You want it, you want him, even now as he restrains your body and threatens your reputation. Your fear is sharp and sour, you had hoped to start over here. A new home in a new country far from your disgraced status. You miss your mother. She would shake her head over it but tell you to chase happiness. What do I have left to lose?

"Do you truly mean to court me? It is not s-some cover to use me this way?" Why? Why do you have to ask these things? Why am I like this?

His fingers press harder and you writhe. It would not take much to break you, I wonder if he knows?  

"I rather enjoy your company. Intelligent, you speak your mind, you respond beautifully, and you took my cock so very well, little girl." His praise is followed by a drastic increase in pressure and you sob your answer with your release.

"Yesss, yes, oh yes, please, yes. Yesyesyes. I want. Ohh, I want you." Your body seizes as you bear down on nothing, the pleasure almost painful. The sobs are cut off by Diego covering your mouth with his. He forces you wide open and licks everything he can reach, all you can do is give in to him. The hair on his face burns and you moan. 

He breaks away, pulls you to your feet, and then directly into an empty stall. Your legs falter but the momentum puts you exactly where he wants you. 

Which is straddling his lap. What is he-- OHHH. The feel of his straining manhood poking up into you makes everything clear. You brace on his shoulders as his hands dive beneath your dress to rip open the bloomers and then free himself. He is lying back on a bale of hay, your feet are flat on the floor to either side. You know when his pants are down because the heat of him is molten. His fingers stroke over you from bottom to top, you are dripping, then he angles his length and-

"Ahhhhh!" Your shriek is piercing. 

"Ohhhh, sí, little girl. So tight for me. Such a grip." He groans and drops his head down limply. You cannot see anything through your layers and he feels enormous. 

"Wait, wait, please." You pant and he freezes to look up at you. "I have never, I did not even know you could, in this way. What do I do?" Terrified, you place your trust in this man who tricked you but made you feel so very good.

"Knees. Kneel, here." He hisses and pats next to his waist. You both moan as you shift and wiggle to position yourself. As you settle you bounce a bit, he bites his lip and digs fingers into your thighs. You try it again, the friction of him slipping out of you is good, but when you ease back down, well, you both make noise. 

"I, I think I see." You grit out. With the corset on you cannot move your upper body much, but your hips are free. Your eyes close and you let the sensations guide you. Your hips bounce, your rear bounces, faster feels better, if you lean forward onto his chest you can move your pelvis quicker. A hand fists in your hair and he pulls, Oh, that feels good, you open your eyes. He is staring up at you, pupils gigantic, panting harshly.

"You. You are a very, very, good girl." He marvels. You keen and go faster, the praise makes everything feel better. His other hand reaches between you, finding your pleasure again as you shudder above his big body, dropping your weight to impale yourself entirely as you convulse around him.

"Ohh, oh. Yesyesyessssssss." Your whining cries seem to please him, he works you over again and again. You have never experienced anything like this, you are starving for it. He releases your hair to burrow both hands under your skirts and reach around to grasp your rear. You yelp, "What are you--"

He slaps you with intent, you lurch up his chest from the force, then he yanks you back down to be filled decisively. You have not been spanked since you were ten, this is catastrophically better.

"Again!" You demand hoarsely. Diego laughs but repeats the maneuver. You yelp with each slap, then moan every time he fills you.

"Does my bad little girl need punishment?" He rasps into your hair. Nodding deliriously, you claw into his muscled chest, whimpering for more. "Do not fret. Father will take care of you."

"Oh yes, please. Please. Please, Father!" You have lost the last shred of control over your own tongue. Those strapping hands secure your hips and he snaps his own up into you. He hits something deep inside that makes you collapse and he does it repeatedly until you flutter around him weakly and bawl into his ruffled shirt. His movements become stilted as he grunts above your head. A few more vicious thrusts and he groans loudly while holding you fast to his pelvis. 

You can feel him emptying into you. This, too, is not new to you but very much more intense than ever before. He is prodigious. That big body goes boneless below you and he sighs contentedly. 

"That was far better than dessert." Diego declares.

You snort, then giggle, and the giggles morph into hysterical laughter before you know it. He slips out of your quaking body, it is a distinctly odd feeling, when he joins your mirth. You prop up just enough to see his face, laugh lines frame those deep eyes and he has dimples! This is unfair. The man is a work of art.

You try and fail to sit up. 

"I. Um. I cannot seem to stand." The confession is small and self-conscious. You are deeply embarrassed. 

"Then do not. It is raining, no one will come out here until it stops." A big hand strokes over your hair and you fight down panic. He breathes deeply, raising you with every inhale. The heartbeat under your cheek is strong and steady,  inescapable as a force of nature. Slowly but surely the tension leaves your spine and you drape over him.

"I did not know it could be done that way." You admit. Stroking rhythmically over his arm is soothing.

"Your husband must have been quite unimaginative." His remark is offhand, thoughtless. It stabs into your chest and you remember your situation. You pull back and manage to sit upright this time, he allows it but does not fully release you.

Shaking hands reach up to touch his face. Diego arches a brow but remains still while you trace over his features. Your heart fills with dread but you have to know. Voice unsteady, you clarify, "Did you mean it? You want to court me?"

"I do not say things I do not mean." His eyes bore into you. Diego pinches your chin gently, "I believe you can appreciate that philosophy."

Your eyes slip away as you swallow nervously. "But, you would consider me still married, would you not?"

The soft chuckle catches you unawares, "You are not Catholic. Why would the rules of the church matter to you?" The question is rhetorical, but you have an answer.

"But you are." Turning back, you blink with the burn of tears. This is it, you think, He will agree and then toss you like the trash you are.

"Little girl. I can assure you, the church has written me off as unsalvagable long ago. I ceased adhering to their silly rules well before that. This is a different country with different laws. In fact, the church would not even recognize your marriage as it was done outside the bonds of Catholicism. You worry needlessly." It is obvious that he means to be comforting despite his flippant tone. He has put some thought into this topic.

"Well, in that case." Tracing a thumb over his lower lip, you lean down for a kiss. Diego attacks your mouth ferociously, all teeth and tongue and leveling maelstrom. All you can do is allow the storm to roll over you.

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

It never does stop raining. In fact, lightning and thunder come in off of the ocean. The two of you have to make a mad dash for the main house. His sister intercepts him in the courtyard to yell at him in Spanish until she sees you hovering just inside the shelter of the roof. 

"Oh!" She gestures to you in frustration. "I see what you have been doing! Truly, Diego? I mean, look at her!" The dismissive tone hits you like a slap in the face. Locking your jaw, you step forward only to be blocked by Diego’s broad back.

"Do not! She is under my protection!" He roars. His sister steps back in shock. She peers around his bulk to look at you, then back to him.

"Your protection? What does that even mean?" She sounds flabbergasted and insulted by the feeling, at that. 

"She has accepted my offer of courtship. You will treat her with the respect that is due." He snarls.

Oh.

Oh.

No one has ever come to your defense before. Gratitude closes your throat with warmth. She stomps off in frustration only to usher your father through the doorway.

"I knew you were here somewhere. Ah, were you still out in the stables when it began to rain?" Your father smiles fondly at your soggy appearance. 

"Uh, yes. Unfortunately." You clear your throat and glance to Diego. His lazy smirk is of no assistance. 

"Come. You should get out of those wet clothes." His offer is sweet, but you can hear the unspoken '... And into my bed'. 

His sister returns with a towel and a steaming mug of tea. She assesses you with a critical eye before announcing, "We have guest rooms. I would not send you home in this."

You are unsure if she means the storm or your attire; either way, you follow her through the house. She leads you to a spacious bedroom complete with a sleigh bed and water closet. It is pure luxury. She pauses at the door to sniff before leaving you, "Diego's rooms are directly across the hall. I will put your father in the other wing. I know how loud my brother can be."

The sound of the door closing behind her is deafening.

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

You wash up, but have nothing clean to wear. Additionally, your seat is throbbing. Touching yourself to bathe was excruciating with actual pain and such intense memory that you are exhausted when you slide under the covers nude. Your only good dress is in a ruined heap on the floor. Just as you should be, a lowly tramp.

A knock sounds and the door opens before you can respond. The source of all your woes strides in confidently and proffers a black garment. Not knowing what else to do, you take it wordlessly while clutching the sheet tight to your chest. It is a shirt, one of his shirts if the scent is any indication, and you assume you are to wear it. 

Only he is not leaving.

Diego watches you with hungry eyes, waiting for the sheet to drop and reveal your naked body. An absolute cad.

"Is there any chance at all that I could at least have the illusion of privacy?" You ask dryly. 

"Fine." He huffs and spins in place. Then stands there, waiting. Resigned, you whip the large shirt over your head as quickly as possible, then pull the sheet back up over your legs. The shirt tails fall just lower than your buttocks, you suppose everything important is covered. 

"All right, I am dece--" He is climbing into the bed with you. Oh my. You squeak quietly, "What are you doing?!?"

Lying down next to you on top of the covers, he smiles at you and holds the arm closest to you wide open in invitation. He is well aware of how good he looks. How tempting.

"Come. You must be cold." It isn't exactly an order, but it is firmer than a request. It is the tone of a man used to issuing commands and never doubting that they will be obeyed. Oh, what the hell, he was inside me not less than two hours ago.

You crawl over the silky sheets and let him tuck you into his side. You are at a loss as to what to do with your hands.

"This, too, is a first for me." You admit haltingly. 

"Was your husband demented?" The matter-of-fact tone sends you into a fit. You bury your face in his side to muffle your tired laughter. "Why do you do that?" Diego asks softly. 

"Do, oh goodness, do what?" You chortle softly then compose yourself as best you can with no pants.

"Hide your mirth. Cover your laugh. Turn away when you smile." He is looking down at you in serious consternation. And awaiting an answer. 

"It is considered rude for a woman to be loud with any emotion where I am from." The quiet explanation only serves to confuse him more.

"That seems tiring. You most definitely have feelings. Why are you forbidden to express them?" It is such a foreign concept to him, he is puzzled. You lay a hand on his chest cautiously. He does not flinch.

"I cannot say. I know that my mother raised her girls to be subdued and accommodating. I, of course, was a failure. My laugh is too loud, my voice too strong, my desires too ambitious. My own grandparents were shocked when I was married off. They assumed no man would tolerate me." I wish that man had ceased tolerating me sooner.

The hand on your back circles idly. It is lulling you to sleep. 

"I forbid you to hide from me." He declares in complete seriousness. You are too tired to bother arguing.

"Fine. May you live to regret it." The last thing you know is his scent filling you to bursting.

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

You wake up on your back. Odd.

Your legs are spread. Very odd.

Luscious wet heat is washing over your aching center in waves. Oh no.

You come to full awareness in a panic. There, between your spread legs in the growing sunlight, is Diego's head, nodding rhythmically as he licks you.

Frozen in shock, you can only watch for a timeless moment as he laves over your womanhood leisurely. Long, decadent laps from bottom to top and then over again. You feel wetness dripping down between your cheeks, there is a sticky puddle under your behind. How long has he been down there?

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" You shriek. Lurching upward, you hit the headboard. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, strong as cable, and you fully understand your predicament. You are trapped.

"Mmmm. Is it not obvious?" The vibration of his rocky voice on your most sensitive parts is going to make you swoon. He resumes enjoying you noisily while you flail about uselessly. The sounds are obscene and offensive, you can feel yourself growing wetter. He moans appreciatively, "Yes, little girl. Soak my beard with your arousal."

You tremble in excitement and fear. If you are caught with him in here like this… 

"Come for me and I will fill this pretty little cunt." He rumbles on, poking his tongue inside your entrance then gliding upward to stimulate your little nub of pleasure. You are going to, you can feel it building inexorably. There is no escape from his soft tongue, scratchy beard, and burning hands. 

Your hands dig in the bedclothes as you keep in mind his decree. It is a struggle not to cover your mouth, but you are rather distracted. Your back arches steadily higher and you sink down onto his face. He moans happily and applies more pressure yet.

"Oh, oh my, you. You are. What is. I, I, please, oh please, do not stop." Almost. You are teetering on the edge of insanity when he pulls back. Nononononononono!

"Come for me, niñita. Come for Father." He attacks the bundle of nerves and you shriek as your body seizes. The contractions of ecstasy blind you momentarily while you sob blissfully. Your core clenches tight, shutting down your worrisome brain. He never ceases his licking, drawing it out until your legs twitch spastically and you push at his head weakly.

He sits up and licks his lips ostentatiously. It is a show for your bleary gaze. You notice his shirt is gone. The wide expanse of his body is bare to you for the first time. Oh. OH.

His shoulders and chest are well defined, muscles bunching and rippling on that broad frame. His torso is solid, his hips lightly cut out from his belly, and that thatch of hair begins at navel. You have never seen such a perfect specimen of malehood.

You must be gawking because he preens happily, puffing up under your favorable assessment. Surely he knows how he looks? His beard glistens in the warm light and you whimper.

"Now, roll over." Excuse me? His eyes crinkle in amusement at your confusion. 

"What?" You blurt. Very sophisticated. 

Big hands land on your hips and he urges you to turn to your left. Memories of every other time he has positioned you and the subsequent pleasure make you follow his lead. Flat on your belly, the borrowed shirt pushed high up your back, you squirm under him.

"What are you doing?" The question is quiet, but fearful. He strokes up your back firmly and you melt under his touch. His hands span your entire back and you rather like the feeling of being covered in him. He moves down your back to grip great handfuls of your rear. You squeak, but it feels so very good after the saddle yesterday. He growls approvingly as you arch into his touch.

"Yes, raise your hips to me. Now spread, there you go, relax here, there. Perfect." He manipulates your body to his liking until your hips are high in the air, your back sunk low, and your shoulders remaining on the bed. The narrow pelvis nestles up to your buttocks as his knees land between your own. A draft flits over your center and you suddenly comprehend what he intends to do. He is going to take you from behind, like an animal. 

Are you insulted? I will reserve judgment until he finishes, no need to be hasty. You chastise your own impatience. Have you no shame?

He certainly does not. 

"You are trying to be so good for me. Wicked little girl, dripping for my cock." He purrs above you, hands petting your derriere. You shake and squeeze hungrily. "I can see that." He moans.

Painfully embarrassed, you hide your face in the pillow without thought.

"Ah, ah! Bad girl!" He reprimands you roughly and slaps your right cheek. You yelp, he laughs lowly. Curving over your back, the heat radiating off of him is suffocating, he threads fingers into your hair and pulls until your head is tilted far back. He informs you ever so graciously, "I will help you behave."

"Oh, I, I am sorry, please." You babble, mindless with the pleasure of his hands on you. 

"Yes, so repentant, I remember. You are very good at atonement, little girl. Now take this sacrament." He groans as he pushes into you. So thick, hot as fire, you twitch madly until the wide head is swallowed by your body. He does not stop, sinking into you for what feels like forever, until you feel the tickle of his hair. You worry he might come up your throat.

Rippling around him illuminates that you are stretched to the limit. He tugs your hair sharply and moans, "Are you taunting me purposefully?"

"I, no? Not, n-not taunting." You wheeze. He grinds deep and you see stars while your eyes are open. "Is that, it, not n-normal?"

He holds very still and demands quietly, "Do it again." You squeeze tight, he chokes above you, "You, Dios mios, you are doing that yourself?"

"I- yes? Sh-should I not be able to do, that?" Your question is baffled, Am I abnormal?

"Oh, little girl. Perfect, tight, wet, little, girl. Give yourself to me." He drapes his big body over you and turns your face to the side to receive a demanding kiss. He pulls back only to thrust home forcefully and you squawk into his mouth. The retreat makes you whine and clutch at him, when he slams forward you howl with how good it feels. Each thrust hits deep, it hurts and pleases you simultaneously, you cannot fathom what is happening. You clutch the pillow and sob happily.

Diego bucks into you at a breakneck pace, the bed creaks and you nod for more. You are stuffed full, unbelievably wet, and out of your mind with bliss. You want more, is that allowed?

"H-harder. Can you. Do more?" You stutter tentatively, afraid of offending him. 

"Oh, yes, you sinful little creature. Take it, take it, take it." He growls in a rolling chant, snapping his hips harder. Your eyes roll back and you shudder through another climax, then a second, and a third, all one after another. You collapse limply, uncaring of his rough usage of you at this point. He bucks frantically, pumping deep to reach release. 

"Oh, ahhhhh, yesss. Good girl. Good. Girl." He moans raggedly, filling you yet again. You did not realize men could do it so many times and so frequently. He pulls back and drops to the bed at your side. One large arm loops under your pelvis and he topples you over to crash against him. "Take a nap, little girl. You have earned it."

Your angry retort is cut off by a huge yawn. He strokes down your side endlessly, it does the trick and you drift off.

-----------

When you wake up again it is midmorning. You stretch happily in the sunlight, until your hips protest. Everything from navel to knee is sore. You sit up in a huff, wincing, only to realize that you are alone. 

There is a plain skirt and very nice leather belt on the dresser, it is embroidered with a beaded pattern in green, yellow, and blue. The skirt is a little long, but you are rather short. Combined with his billowing shirt, you look like a child playing dress up. Your dress is gone, so this will have to do. 

A servant leads you to the kitchens, she smiles broadly and points to your hair with a tiny voice, "Bonita." 

"Thank you." You nod, unsure how to respond. Your father is at a large butcher block table, socializing easily with a young mother and her toddler despite the language barrier.

"Good morning. I apologize for sleeping so late, I must have been more tired than I realized." You announce your presence as casually as possible. 

Diego's sister breezes into the room and announces that the carriage is ready whenever you are. The barb does not go unnoticed. You thank her sweetly for the hospitality as she herds you outside and sees you off as quickly as possible. 

You wonder if Diego even knows you are leaving.

I still do not know why he pretended to be a priest.