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“My disobedient wife carrying marks of my discipline as she learns her place.”

Your place was supposed to be as his sweet housewife; a twisted version of it he started fantasizing about after watching you interact with your actual husband. Whom Lloyd killed. 

The contract for your husband’s head came first and it was as Lloyd carried it out that he got a chance to see you. You knew by now that your husband would be dead anyway, but it didn’t fully erase your guilt. There was still that voice in the back of your head wondering if he could survive if Lloyd didn’t develop a sick obsession with you.

You don’t know if it was the apple pie that you baked that day, or the happy smile on your face as you walked barefoot into the backyard to hang out freshly washed sheets, or maybe he saw you hike up your skirt and ride your husband on a chair by the kitchen table.

Whatever instigated Lloyd’s fantasies, he was adamant on making them come true for him immediately.

He took you from your home, after disposing of your husband. His laugh sinister and his promises lewd as he injected you with something. 

You woke hours later in a house on a private island, no other people to help you out, no boat to take you away across the endless ocean. 

Weeks of rebelling, crying, trying to fight Lloyd physically. Weeks of manipulation, sweet and condescending words, discipline that twisted your mind with how it combined pain and pleasure. You finally started giving in, started accepting there’s no other way to live your life out now than to play into Lloyd’s housewife kink and spare yourself more suffering.

What’s worse, you began settling in. Focusing on simple, daily chores relaxed you. Frantic thoughts about lost life had no chance to bloom when you had your hands busy and your mind set on thinking of how to please your husband each day. 

You went on long walks; sometimes alone, sometimes hand in hand with Lloyd. The island was like a little paradise. The sand was nearly white, so soft beneath your feet. Green tones of trees and bushes were more lush, and the flowers bloomed in splashes of brilliant colors.

The water was so clear you could see and chase little, colorful fish. Cool on your sun-heated skin as you traded through it, or swam. In scandalous bikinis or naked, so Lloyd could enjoy the view as he watched from a lounging chair, sipping on a drink.

When you gave in, Lloyd gave back in return. 

With expensive gifts, as well the more meaningful ones that made your head spin in confusion (like a swing he had delivered and built for you in a shaded nook in the garden). He often lavished you with his attention and time, when he wasn't away on a mission. Weirdly, he gave you more attention than your late husband had.

His dick was more than your late husband's, too.

Lloyd loved to fuck you. A lot. It was never love making, even if he took you slow and gentle it had a raw edge to it that couldn't be described as anything other than fucking.

He fucked you so good you forgot your own name. Turned you into a mess, only able to mewl and cry.

There wasn't a space or an occasion Lloyd wouldn't use for sexual adventures. And he made them unforgettably creative.

So you wore the dresses he bought you. Cooked meals and baked pies. You cleaned the house, tended the garden, went on walks along the beach. 

And you stood perfectly still when Lloyd came back home after a business trip and ran a thorough inspection.

Not much a house inspection, more a wife inspection.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, checking if the rebellious fire was dimmed. His words sweet, but provoking, testing your submission. His touch made sure your body still responded as eagerly as he trained you to.

As he’s done now.

Lloyd pressed your tongue down with his thumb, until more saliva pooled in and you gurgled. He withdrew his digit after a moment, delicately took your fingers into his hand and twirled you around three times. 

The skirt of your dress flared, your bare feet sliding on the polished hardwood floors. 

He pulled you to him, his hand firm against your back as he kept you in place while he slid his other hand beneath your dress. His pleasant hum at finding you bare made you drop your shoulders in relief; he was happy with you. 

“Now tell me, Sunshine, what are we making for dinner?” He kissed you, almost softly, just a hint of his usual roughness. His mustache tickled your upper lip, as his fingers brushed over your folds. 

“We?” You blinked, surprised. “You- you’re going to help?” 

Lloyd often watched you cook, if he was in the house at the time. Occasionally he handed you ingredients, but he never attempted to actually cook. No, that was a wife’s duty. 

“Of course,” he flashed you a grin that instantly had your heart jumping, “I’ll help you work on your focus.”

He turned you around, leading you to the kitchen counter. You braced your hands against it as Lloyd pulled your dress up over your ass. 

“You’ll do your best preparing dinner and I’ll introduce you to our new project.”

You didn't have the courage to ask about the project. Knowing Lloyd it will be something that leaves you torn and gasping, giving in anyway, even if your mind screams No.

Lloyd dropped to his knees behind you. His lips trailed along one of the welts on your ass, treating your bruised skin with tenderness. You knew better than to assume it's guilt or care, more likely reverent appreciation of his own handwork.

"You look so beautiful with my marks," Lloyd licked one of the welts, from one edge to the other.

"Go on," he ushered you, noticing you weren't working on dinner. "I don't want us to stay hungry for long after I'm done with you."

With shaky hands you reached for the tomatoe. You had to still your breath as your fingers wrapped around the knife's handle.

It turned ragged quickly, anyway, as Lloyd spread your asscheeks and bit into your pussy. First expert licks between your folds were merely a prep before the assault. Lloyd's tongue drew zigzags across your cunt, dipping into your entrance then withdrawing to lash your clit with rapid licks.

A jolt of pleasure, when he sucked you to the brink of ecstasy, made you lose control of your limbs - your fingers squeezing half of a cut tomato, the juices squirting all over the counter.

You fell forward, trying to grasp at a fresh one, but you could only claw at the cool surface of the kitchen counter as Lloyd's mouth moved to your other hole.

He pushed his tongue into your rim at the same time thrusting two of his fingers into your fluttering channel.

A firm slap on your tender ass caused you to cry out, your legs kicking out in futile attempt to save you from the onslaught.

And yet your cunt tightened around Lloyd's fingers.

"Sunshine-" he sang the word playfully as he stood up and pressed himself against you.

His mustache tickled your ear when he pressed his lips to it, his tongue licking lewdly over the shell.

The sound of a zipper lowering had you tense up in anticipation of that insanely good stretch. No matter how many times Lloyd took you, it seemed his cock was always too big for your pussy to get used to.

"We have to work on your multitasking skills." Lloyd chuckled, kicking your legs wider apart.

"You will need it when our little rascals start running around."

Your didn't fully register his words, the slam of his cock making your brain sizzle with s different shock. You shattered in a sudden climax, your body involuntarily opening up to Lloyd's project.

“Where you goin’ so fast without me baby?” Tony taps his fingers against his leather steering wheel.

“Somewhere where you’re not making a scene, that’s where.” You roll your eyes, just about to turn on your heel when Tony honks his car.

Freezing in your tracks and noticing people are starting to look over from the entrance of the Babylon and to you both, you immediately spin back around and glare at Tony. “Seriously?”

“What you so mad for?” Tony throws his hands up in surrender, gesturing to the passenger seat next to him. “Elvira said to pick you up, you know. Don’t act like you ain’t know I was coming, baby.”

“Does Elvira know you call me ‘baby?’” Refusing to make an even bigger embarrassment of yourself from Tony’s theatrics, you swat Tony’s hand away from the car door and pull it open yourself.

“Sure.” Tony grins, shrugging his shoulders. “Ya wanna tell her yourself?”

“Uh huh.” You mumble sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you take your seat. “You could have called me beforehand or something.”

“Yeah, imma call the lady who never picks up her phone. Ey—” Tony takes your purse, carelessly tossing it to the backseat. “Just put that in the back and relax, eh? First time you in my new car.”

Your eyes widen to see your purse flying into the backseat but you press your lips down together, crossing your arms. “Just take me home already, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know I’m gonna.” Unphased by your show of attitude, Tony begins to reverse his car out of the parking lot with his usual, reckless style of speedy driving.

“Your car isn’t going to last long—” you grunt, quickly putting on your seatbelt, “if you keep driving like a maniac.”

“Ey, what’s your problem man?” Tony smirks, stepping on the gas again as he hits the road. “I come say hello, I pick you up, you hate me already. No hi for me?” Tony reaches into the collar of his red Hawaiian shirt, undoing a few more buttons to expose his chest.

“What’s my problem?” You scoff, pointing at your chest. “Do you see yourself? Everybody was looking at us!”

“Yeah? I don’t blame them.” Tony grips his steering wheel, drifting his car over the road effortlessly. “They see me and you—they like.”

“There is no me and you, Tony.” You sigh loudly to get the point across, turning your head away from him.

“Glad you say that,” Tony playfully nudges you with his elbow, “that’s why you tell Manny you like me, huh?”

“What?” You blink, facing Tony again almost instantly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony laughs, nodding. “Manny say you like me.”

“Manny’s making shit up, then.” You narrow your eyes. “I didn’t tell him a thing.”

“No, you didn’t.” Tony winks at you, stopping at a red light. “I heard it on the phone.”

“Shut up, Tony.” Your cheeks flare bright red in blush as you brush him off. “That’s not even remotely what I said.”

“Then why you tell Manny ‘Tony cute’ like that? Huh?” Tony snickers, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders and pulling you in closer to him. “I like that. I wanna hear you say it again.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You mutter, refusing to give into his antics. “I was drunk.”

“Drunk, huh?” Tony’s not buying it as he steps on the gas on full force, driving over a speedbump like nothing.  “Come on, say it again.”

“Why don’t you stop the car—” you shove Tony’s arm off of you, “and just let me out so I can get a cab home instead, huh?”

“Why? Because I tease you like this?” Tony chuckles, licking over his lips. “Yeah, yeah—” he playfully pinches your cheek, “see, cheeks are red. Oh you blushing.”

“Stop the car.” You reach your hand over to grab the steering wheel.

“Ah, ah,” Tony grabs your hand with his, lacing his fingers with you. “I’mma stop the car but not in the middle of the road—you crazy? Or I drive you crazy?”

“God.” You groan, rubbing your temples in annoyance. “Just pull over somewhere already!”

“Aight, aight! What you gotta get so feisty for, man?” Tony takes a turn down into a neighborhood, “happy now? See, imma park here.” Tony swerves towards the sidewalk, slamming on the breaks abdruptly.

“My God, Tony!” You exclaim, fuming as you face him. “Do you do this shit on purpose to me?!”

“To get you like this?” Tony winks, “oh yeah. You gonna get outta the car now and walk in shoes like that?”

“Maybe, what’s it to you?” You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Then imma drive down the neighborhood until you give up.” Playfulness flashes in Tony’s eyes. “Then you gonna get back in here and Elvira gonna ask why you so late. You gonna tell her you were busy doing what?”

Your eyes dart to Tony’s chest, watching his fingers adorned with gold and ruby encrusted rings playing with the chains adorning over his collarbones.

Even the peek of chest hair and Tony’s relaxed, flirty demeanour does nothing but prove further to you that you can ignore his teasing all you want—you can pretend you haven’t thought of taking your best friend’s man to your bed before, but your body can’t deny it for long.

Before the two of you are even aware of what’s going on, the last thing you tell yourself is, ‘fuck it’ before you find yourself cupping Tony’s cheeks and pulling him into a rough kiss.

As if Tony’s been waiting for you to make such a move all night, he doesn’t hesitate in moving his body closer to yours and eagerly kissing you back.

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel Tony’s lips crush over yours—tasting faint whiskey and Cuban cigars over his mouth you know you’ll never forget.

“Now you talkin’ to me, baby—” Tony parts his lips apart from yours just to catch his breath before he wraps his arms around your waist tightly and pulls you over to the driver’s seat.

Clutching your hands over Tony’s shoulders and digging your fingernails in, you straddle his lap in a hurry and let Tony’s tongue slowly snake around yours.

You moan into Tony’s mouth, finding his curious and needy hands squeezing at your breasts through your skin tight, little black dress before they roam down to your ass.

Your stillettos fall off your feet as you press your thighs against Tony’s, insisting to take out all your sexual frustration on him tonight with all his flirting and forwardness.

One hand in your hair to pull you onto him and one on the side of his car seat to recline it almost all the way back, you feel Tony’s growing erection pressing up against your stomach.

You groan before you pull away from the heated kiss, a string of spit from Tony and your mouth parting.

Tony’s hands remain up your dress, squeezing your thighs as he looks at you expectantly. “What ya gonna tell Elvira?”

“I’m not gonna tell Elvira shit.” You breathe out shakily, pulling down the straps of your dress off your shoulders to let your breasts spill free. “And neither are you.”

And he hated you just as much right back.

You weren’t sure where the hatred between the two of you came from, hell. You weren’t even able to remember when it started.

You weren’t sure where the hatred between the two of you came from, hell. You weren’t even able to remember when it started.

All you knew was that when his smug little face turned towards you when you were told you had to go on a mission with him as an undercover couple, you seethed.

“Steve, please let me switch with someone else.” You pleaded, refusing to look over at bucky who was sitting across from you at the table. You didn’t want to see the smirk on his stupid dumb face.

“Sorry, y/n. We don’t have anyone else to do this. Nat is out on another mission and we can’t postpone this one anymore. You two are just going to have to put the hatred aside.” You sighed, crossing your arms and letting out a huff through your nostrils. You looked over at Bucky who was sitting back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests and a smirk on his lips.

“C’mon, doll. You know you wanna spend time with me.” You flipped him off as you stood up, grabbing the briefing papers before storming out of the room.

You would rather eat a bowl of nails for breakfast than to be on an undercover mission with him. Let alone be married to him.

“Try and go easy on her, yeah Buck? Maybe actually confess to her this time?” Bucky stood up a few minutes after you walked out, bringing his papers under his arm with a shrug. He couldn’t promise something he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep.

—

It had been a few weeks of the undercover mission, not getting a step closer to cracking down the men everyone was after. Steve couldn’t promise how long it would take, he knew that they were set up in the house right across from Bucky and you. You were both able to have a full view of “customers” they brought in, how long they were there, and any suspicious vehicles that were brought around.

Aside from the mission, you did your absolute best to not be domestic with Bucky inside the house when you could. You slept in the guest bedroom, kept your schedules with him different so you wouldn’t run into him on the way to the bathroom, even so much as to go to buy your own groceries. It was tiring, but as long as you didn’t have to keep the act up longer than you needed to, it was fine.

Bucky, however hated it. He missed seeing your face as much as he hated to admit it. He loved watching you smile and cling onto his arm when in front of the men the team had been watching, doing your fake wifely duties around the front yard and garage, giving him kisses on the cheek when you would come out to him for lunch and to tell him to take a break from fiddling with the motorcycle.

He found you extremely attractive being domestic with you. He wanted that outside of the mission, but he knew you hated his guts too much for that and that’s when he furrowed his brow.

He didn’t know why you hated him so much, and as much as he’d like to sit down with you and figure it out, he would much rather fuck the attitude out of you.

It would be a lie if he said he hadn’t thought about leaning you over the kitchen island and fucking you from behind, up against the sliding glass door that overlooked the backyard. “Accidentally” walking in on you in the shower and pushing you up against the tile wall and slipping so easily inside of you.

He felt himself harden just at the thought of it while he sat at the dining room table filling out a day's brief for the team. He couldn’t concentrate.

He heard you walking in the front door with groceries, a scowl over your face as you walked into the kitchen. You were hoping you wouldn’t have to run into him, but of course the lucky stars weren’t helping you out today.

“Why the long face, doll?” There was silence after he spoke, he knew you wouldn’t answer him with just a soft expression. He got up from the table and joined you in the kitchen, leaning against the island counter and watched as you filled the fridge with fruits.

“What do you want, Barnes?” Your voice was bitter, it stung Bucky’s heart just a little bit as you didn’t look his way.

“I wanna know why you have such a fucking attitude, princess.” His voice was low, startling you a little bit. You slowed your movement as you pushed the bin of strawberries on the shelf in the fridge, going to hold the handle of the fridge to close, your grip tightening.

“Don’t talk to me like that. We are just trying to get through this mission, not have a therapy session.” Your knuckles had started to turn white before you let out a breath, letting go and turning towards the island, watching as he watched you from across the counter. Your palms pressed against the cooling marble as he shook his head.

“I want to know why you hate me so much, doll. You make it so unpleasant to be around you.”

“That’s so you aren’t around me!” You shouted, glaring him down as he stood from the stool. He rounded the counter and your palms let off the marble, walking back towards the fridge as your back pressed against it, Bucky’s boots toe to toe with you.

“You’re such a fucking brat, you know that? Has it ever crossed your mind that I like you? I want to fix things with you? But you make it so goddamn hard.” you watched his gaze flick between your eyes and down to your lips, back up to your eyes. You didn’t have anything to say, you were speechless and you felt your heart pound in your chest with how close he was to your face.

“Got nothing to say now, huh? Figures.”

“You’re so fucking annoying, Barnes.” You felt his flesh hand wrap around your throat, pressing the sides of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, your hands reaching for the sides of his face.

The kiss was hot and messy, teeth clashing together, tongues dancing around each other. Hot breath against each other’s lips as you pulled for air, his other hand on your hip as he turned you around and pressed you up against the counter top, hand still on your throat.

He rolled his hips against yours as he kissed you again, making you gasp against his lips when you felt how hard he was against your hipbone. You felt your panties growing wet at the thought of how much this was turning him on, turning you on.

“Gonna fuck you over this countertop, you hear? Then we are gonna figure out how to make the rest of this mission pleasurable.” You could only nod your head as he torn your blouse off, the buttons popping in different directions onto the floor. Your exposed chest was under his gaze, the black lace bra you had put on that morning was ripped in the middle and tossed to the side with the blouse. His hand grasped your breast, a moan escaping your lips as his fingers tweaked your nipple.

“You like that, doll?” You nodded, whining as he dipped his head, mouth attaching to the other nipple. He massaged your left breast and played with the nipple while his tongue and hot mouth sucked the other one. Your hands ran through his hair and gripped the locks softly. You hated how much you liked this, how fucking good his tongue was on your breast.

He took his mouth off, a whine escaping your lips as he chuckled, turning you around and bending you over the counter top you gasped as the cold counter underneath your breasts, and you felt him tug your skirt and panties down your legs with his fingers ghosting over your wet entrance. You heard him curse under his breath as he played with your folds, watching the slick run down your thighs and make his fingers glisten.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet. Look at that pretty pussy clenching for something. Dirty little whore.” You moaned as he pushed his fingers in, curling inside of you. You clenched around his fingers and bit back a moan as he thrusted them gently inside of you.

“So fucking wet, this all for me?” You could only nod as you watched him behind you, twist his wrist as he curled his finger. He pulled them out, placing them on his tongue and sucking them clean, moaning as the taste of you exploded on his tongue.

“So fucking sweet,” he stood up and unzipped his slacks, pushing them and his boxers down to his ankles freeing his cock. It was dripping at the tip, a prominent vein under his shaft. You licked your lips at the sight of him, the thickness his cock held made you hungry.

“Please Bucky.. please just fuck me..” he stroked his cock as he moved towards you, placing the tip of his cock at your entrance and moaning as your slick mixed with his pre-cum.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he sheathed inside of you, both of you moaning together as you felt each other. He stretched you out so good, the pain soon mixing into pleasure as your walls fluttered around him and adjusted to his girth.

“Fuck baby, feel so fucking tight. Gonna ruin this pussy so she knows exactly who she belongs to. Fuck the attitude out of you, dove.” He thrusted out of you, then right back into you making your hips bounce softly against the edge of the counter. His hands gripped into your hips, making sure to leave small bruises in the shape of fingertips.

He pounded into you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as he went, moaning obscenity’s at how wet and warm your pussy was around his cock. He felt like he was in heaven, all this expectations of how good you would feel around him was blown out of the water. His metal hand gripped your hair and tugged on it, making you moan out.

“God, who knew how fucking filthy you are. Look so pretty as your pretty pussy takes my cock.” He watched as his cock disappeared into your tight pussy, moaning as he heard the wet sounds from your slick.

You felt the tight knot in the bottom of your stomach forming, gripping what you could on the counter as you clenched his cock.

“M-m close Buck.. oh fuck yes.. please..” You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but the harsh tug on your hair by his metal arm indicated he knew exactly what you wanted. His flesh hand reached around and played with your clit, rubbing in tight fast circles.

“Cum for me, baby. Cream all over my cock, you filthy whore. Wanna hear you scream my name.” You moaned at the words, clenching around him as your toes curled and you felt your orgasm wash over You came quickly, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass were as loud as your moans for him. You chanted his name as you rode out your high, listening to him groan above you.

“So fucking wet, holy shit. Gonna fill this pussy up so fucking good. Make sure you remember who fucked you this good.” You bit your lip as you squeezed his cock, his flesh hand coming around the massage your ass and landing a smack on your cheek, gripping the flesh again.

His thrusts faltered, got sloppier with each movement and you could feel him throb inside you, your walls fluttering around him with each thrust.

“Fuck.. i’m coming baby.. fuck..” He groaned as he tilted his head back and shot white thick ropes of cum deep inside you. He kept fucking you just to make sure it would stay inside your pussy.

“Oh fuck Bucky..” you moaned out, feeling the cum run down your thighs as he pulled out.

“Looks so fucking pretty.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your ass cheek before grabbing a damp paper towel and cleaning you up, pulling your panties and skirt back up to your hips. He pulled up his own boxers and pants.

He helped you stand up, your hands going to cover your breasts.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” He took his shirt off his back and tossed it over you, as you were now practically swimming in his black t-shirt. The smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses as you looked up at him. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, your hands over his chest as he gripped your hips and pulled you close.

“Still hate me?” You grinned against his lips and shrugged your shoulders. You didn’t hate him as much, in fact it gave you a little bit of clarity as you pulled away, looking over his face and really coming to terms that you thought he was handsome as fuck. You decided to humor him, though.

“Dumb little girl—can’t even let daddy work, can’t even stay quiet for me. Should’ve gagged you instead, make you warm me with your mouth. Bet you’d fucking love that.” He huffs, “Always has to steal my attention, fucking slut.” Lloyd harshly rubs your clit, bullying the sensitive button while you squirm and whine on the wooden table. 

Your back arches as you gasp, and euphoria rushes in. It takes you by storm, and your vision goes white. All you feel is Lloyd and his torture, and all his mean words jumble into something incoherent. 

Lloyd watches you squirt and soak his sleeve and the table. Your cunt flutters and begs for something, his fingers, his knife or his gun—he’s tempted to give in, but you don’t deserve it. Not after being so interruptive and ungrateful. He slaps you once you’ve come back down, and you squeal, legs snapping shut around his forearm. 

“You,” He nods at the man from earlier and his predictions are confirmed. His gaze is locked on you with lamely concealed lust, “You stay, everyone else, out.” 

As the other people file out of the office, the young man remains seated at the table, practically shaking in his chair. “You can’t look away from my girl, huh? She’s a real treasure.” Lloyd prys your thighs apart, ignoring your pleas for a break. “Daddy’s busy right now, pumpkin, shut up.” Another swat and you fall slack on the table. 

It’s been almost a year since (y/n) moved to America and she was still struggling to leave the unemployed status at the moment. All the work she’d been getting was either temporary or too difficult for her to stay on them. Of course, there was her citizen situation as well, since (y/n)’s last boss was never exactly happy about having to employ an immigrant, resulting on him just deciding to fire her one fine day.

Now, here she is; working late hours to try and pay this month’s rent. Her search for any other sort of job, by the way, has not been the most fruitful one so far. That’s where Elvira comes into the picture. She called (y/n) one day saying she got her a thing at the casino of a distant friend of hers. (y/n) didn’t even question it, after all she needed the money. That same night, she came to pick her up so the two of them could go there together. All she had to do was slip into a waitress uniform and serve food and drinks all night. She got it.

Piece of cake.

Elvie is as beautiful as ever. She’s wearing a long navy-blue dress that matches her eyes, her short blonde hair slicked back. (y/n), on the other hand, wore more casual clothes, as she’d have to change into the uniform once they arrived at the club. Her hair is as usual, she’d tuck it into a cap soon anyway — at least while transiting in the kitchen. They were ready and off they went.

To say (y/n)’s surprised by the size of the place is an understatement. The building’s so large and lit up she felt like they were in Vegas or something. She enters through the back door, the one Elvie pointed out to her, as the blonde heads for the main entrance herself. (y/n) notices a fairly big movement of people, even some photographers. There must be someone really famous here for all that fuss. Chills run through her body and she takes a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety under the rug.

The uniform luckily fits and (y/n) thanks heavens, at least she won’t have to ask for a male model like all the other times. She adjusts the white dress shirt on her body and looks in the bathroom mirror, grimacing at the reflection. This definitely wasn't her best aesthetically, but she tried to focus on the fat payment for the service as motivation.

Putting her hair in the cap and leaving the restroom, she notices from afar the rush in the kitchen. Soon the muffled sound of music fills her ears and she reckons the party’s starting. A few other waiters are already in and out of the main hall, so (y/n) makes herself ready for any orders aimed at her and it doesn’t take long. They practically throw a steel tray on the poor girl’s lap and it’s full of snacks. She takes the haircap off and fixes her hair quickly. With the tray in her arms, she nods her head to no one in particular. Here goes nothing.

She opens the kitchen door, walking down the hall to the party somewhat nervous. The place is huge, full of people — mostly men in fancy suits —, gaming tables and a small stage makes room for a musical performance. There is also a dance floor above, as crowded as the gaming space she’s in. (y/n) spots Elvie from across the room and smiles at her. Her friend immediately notices and gives her a thumbs up.

She strolls around with a friendly grin to offer her tidbits, which a few here and there accept. It’s all going pretty well so far, all things considered. (y/n) approaches a table with three well-dressed men, lowering the tray as subtly and politely as she can. One of them, a unique looking one, takes the treat and smiles gratefully at her. This simple act warms her up inside because until then, no one had seemed to notice her existence.

She goes over to Elvie and the woman pretends to eat something from her tray, probably to give (y/n) some support. (y/n) only rolls her eyes amusingly. “So, how’s your night going?”

“Boring and taking too long, nothing new”, she mutters haughtily, but forces a smile. “There’s just rich old men and trophy wives in this place. I could get out of here with a sugar daddy if I wanted to.”

“Suits you well, I think”, she jokes, to which Elvira only wrinkles her nose. (y/n) scans around, exchanging another friendly look with that guy who thanked her for the snacks earlier. She quickly shifts her gaze to Elvie again. “Try to enjoy yourself, okay? It’s not every day we get to go to a place like this.”

“Fine. You too!”

And with that, her tidbits end. (y/n) goes back to the kitchen only to find what looked like the Tower of Babel waiting for her and nervousness takes over her in an instant. She’s so clumsy she’d probably have to bend over backwards not to cause an accident with the six glasses of champagne on that tray. The girl takes yet another deep breath and walks carefully down the hall, as if entering a battlefield. She bites her lower lip to concentrate better, trying not to let anxiety get the best of her. She got this.

Piece of cake.

“Excuse me”, a woman says, and (y/n) can’t help but notice her fierce figure doesn’t match the thin voice.

She approaches the lady who swiftly takes one glass of champagne from the pyramid, going back to her conversation without taking another look at (y/n). She turns around to leave afterwards, however, it seems the universe’s not on the same tune as her. A drunk guy stumbles past the girl as the tray flips in her hands and spills all the liquids on the woman’s fancy dress. She quickly grabs a napkin from the table to try and dry her clothes, but it’s useless.

The woman pushes (y/n) away and gives her a hard glare, making her face the floor immediately. “Watch where you’re going, stupid! Wasn’t there anyone better to hire in this damn place than a blind bitch?”, every word that comes out of her mouth makes (y/n) feel smaller and smaller. Thinking the lady’s done, she starts picking up the shards of glass to put them back on the tray. But oh, was she wrong. “I want you fired now! Where’s the manager? Get this stupid bitch out of here! I demand...”

“That’s enough, lady”, a male voice cuts her off, but (y/n) didn’t dare turn around to see who it belonged to. Her eyes are already filled with tears and her current condition couldn’t be more deplorable. The owner of the voice stands up and approaches the woman who’s still mumbling and calling her names. “You shut the fuck up now and go clean up. Leave her alone”, his tone sounds menacing now, and (y/n) feels a slight shiver go up her spine.

She can only hear the slender heels tapping away from her next, the noise filling her with some relief. She finishes cleaning up the mess and bolts back to the kitchen, not even thanking whoever had defended her in that very peculiar way. Nobody questioned (y/n) once she showed up with a tray full of broken pieces of glass, of course. They must have heard everything; the woman was screaming over the blaring music of the club.

She put her hands on the sink, shutting her eyes. Tears stream down her face eventually, she’s been holding them for too long now. Her sadness is more because of the money she just lost rather than the woman’s cruel words, though. She’s used to the abjection, the constant bullying. Miami’s trophy wives can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. If (y/n) weren’t used to being humiliated daily by now, how could she have survived this long? Still, it didn’t make it any easier.

Elvie suddenly emerges at her side. (y/n) has no idea if she saw what happened. Probably so, although she couldn’t have said or done anything in her friend’s favour, as it might’ve ended up only making things worse. Elvira hugs her tight, relentlessly cursing the mean woman to her fifth generation. This earns a slight laugh from (y/n), who’s briefly distracted from what happened.

She holds (y/n)’s face. “If this one doesn’t work out, it’s no problem. We’ll find something else.”

“It’s okay, Elvie. Thank you for the opportunity, anyway. Even if I didn’t make the best I could out of it.”

“Hey, stop it! It wasn’t your fault, accidents happen and if that woman had been this — she gestures a tiny amount — kind, she’d understood and wouldn’t have made such a big deal out of an ugly dress like that”, (y/n) lets out a sad chuckle. Elvie sighs and looks at her sympathetically. “And for the record, you didn’t lose the money. I was talking to that guy who defended you just now and he insisted on giving you your pay check, even if it came out of his own pocket.

She frowns, squinting her eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

“I don’t know”, Elvira shrugs. “But he’s pretty cool for doing it, unlike that fucking...”

“Elvie”, she scolds, bringing the blonde back to the subject. “I don’t even know who he is. I didn’t have the courage to say anything during all the chaos, so I couldn’t thank him.”

“He’s cute”, she states, not paying any mind to (y/n)’s protests. She gives Elvira an unimpressed look. “I don’t know what he’s doing among these rotten people though, he doesn’t seem so bad.”

She frowns again, now a little thoughtful. “Does he have a scar on his eye?”

“Yeah...”

“Oh, I think I know who it is”, she grins, happy with her own discovery. “I remember him thanking me with a smile for the treats, he was the only one who did it”, Elvie stares at her with raised eyebrows. “What?”

“Did you really remember him because of a smile, even with that whole ass scar on his face?”, (y/n) rolls her eyes at Elvira’s mischievous tone. “My friend is a soon-to-be trophy wife, I can’t believe it!”, she hums her words in a not so discreet manner.

“Shut up! Oh, my God”, (y/n) pushes her playfully, face burning with embarrassment since there are still some people in the kitchen. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t”, she smiles cheekily.

***

As opposed to her little disaster yesterday, (y/n)’s second night in the casino is proving to be thankfully calmer. Her contractor gave her payment after all, so she’s a bit less worried for the rest of the week. She’s also gotten into the swing of things by now and a relieved sigh escapes her lips. The place is not crowded as it was last night, which makes her job easier and way less stressful. Elvie couldn’t go tonight because of her own personal stuff, so (y/n)’d just have to sit there and quietly observe the random faces passing by whenever she got a few free seconds.

She watches somewhat entertained as the sweaty bodies grind against each other on the dance floor up above. The gaming tables in front of her, in contrast, seem much emptier than yesterday, with only a few men sitting around one or two. There is this one in particular where the sole player, a medium-height figure with his back turned to her, sometimes lazily takes a drag of his cigar. He’s sitting all tangled up on his chair, legs spread apart as if he couldn’t care less for etiquette.

From what little information (y/n) could gather about this obnoxious place, he must be a really wealthy man — or work for such. The atmosphere of the location can’t fool even the most innocent of brains; these people are easily the majority of Miami’s powerful class. What they do exactly, well, that’s another matter entirely. She’s seen some politicians, models and even policemen so far, still (y/n)’s not so naïve as to think they only allow legal workers and entrepreneurs there. The club’s bathroom is disgusting and doesn’t reminisce fancy or chic whatsoever, and the amount of coke splashed over the toilets leaves no room for any doubt that drug lords and criminals in general are welcome around here.

And as for the shadow figure with his back to her, he surely could fit in that last category, or take part in it someway. She doesn’t see the same tension on his shoulders among the politicians or the policemen. That right there looks like a man troubled, distressed, almost giving up, and she silently wonders what’s on his mind for him to be presenting himself in such a careless manner. Before she can daydream about it anymore, however, a voice calls for her from behind the counter.

“Hey, (y/n), take this over there”, her colleague hands her the snack tray, pointing towards the man she was just watching. “And don’t say anything, he can be a bit of an asshole sometimes. Just offer him this and, please, do not stare”, he instructs, making her furrow her brows.

She scoffs, shaking her head. “What, is he the bogeyman?”

He only shrugs. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Still amused by that weird exchange, (y/n) takes the tray in her arms and walks over to the mysterious man confidently. Sure, he can very well be a contract killer, but fuck it if she won’t give him her best service as a waitress. Hell, it’s the least he deserves considering his miserable demeanour. She represses a chuckle with these thoughts, straightening her face. Her steps are precise and once she’s next to his table, she bends over slightly.

“Excuse me, sir...”, she starts, but her mouth immediately seals shut when she recognizes the man. The shadow figure, the bogeyman is her saviour from the night before — she can’t even bring herself to remember what terrible things she was thinking of him just now. Remaining agape, she tries to form a sentence. “It’s you...”

“What?”, he sustains her gaze, but frowns instantly. “Something on my face, lady?”, he spits, taking a drag of his cigar before she can respond.

Only then she realizes she’s been staring, although not for the reason he probably thinks. “Oh, I’m so sorry, it’s just...”, she clears her throat, unsure of how to explain this. Or if she should, really. “I never had the chance to thank you for yesterday, that’s all. So, thank you.”

“Oh, yeah. That lady was a fucking pain in the ass with you and for what? It was an accident, no need to call you names like that”, he mutters, apparently remembering who she was only now, and (y/n) almost can’t understand some of his words because he’s talking with the cigar between his teeth. His thick accent tells her he’s also an immigrant. She stands up straight again, reckoning he won’t say anything more, but his hand nimbly takes one snack off the tray. He then holds it up to her face, smiling boldly. “That how you thank me, trying to get away with my fucking food?”

The heat on her cheeks is almost unbearable. “I’m sorry”, she mumbles, looking away from his still amused expression.

“You say that too much”, he points out, takes another drag, bites the snack before proceeding with his mouth full. “Fuck, you can’t be like that, you know? Especially in a place like this, with so many rich people. They think they rule the world because they got money, and maybe they do, but don’t you let them treat you like shit. You don’t deserve it”, he gives her a serious look, his dark eyes piercing through her soul. “You gotta stand up for yourself, lady”, he concludes, grinning again as if he just said something so trivial. “What’s your name, anyway?”

She’s at a loss for words, but still manages to smile gratefully. “Thank you, I really needed to hear that”, she says, genuinely touched by the things he spoke. How could this man be the asshole she’s just been warned about? And worse, she thought he was a criminal? He could never. “And it’s (y/n), by the way.”

He simply nods, giving her a charming smile with the cigar still between his teeth. “Tony Montana, at your service”, he gives her a firm handshake, before standing up while palming his suit. He takes a look around and arches his brows, seeming surprised at how empty the place is. With his mouth free now, he murmurs: “I gotta go now, thank you for this”, holding the snack at her eye level, he leaves afterwards.

“Thank you”, she reinforces, watching silently as he disappears through the door. She lets out a quiet laugh, making her way back to the counter.

Tony Montana, with the weight of the world on his shoulders...

***

The next time (y/n) sees Tony again, he is still with the typical cigar in his mouth, listening not so interested as some man talks to him. He looks at the ceiling with his mind clearly somewhere else, and even the loud music doesn’t seem to get his attention. The casino is pretty full tonight, so she’s been in and out of the kitchen with trays through the whole night, non-stop. Her legs hurt a little from the repetitive movements, but she hides it with a polite smile.

“You better work, girl”, Elvira jokingly states, poking her slightly. (y/n) went to her table to try and breathe a little, pretending to tend to her friend. Her eyes remain across the room however, watching like a hawk as Tony Montana still talks to that man about something apparently not so pleasant, judging by his sour expression. Elvira notices her staring and lets out a light chuckle, poking the girl again so she’d turn her attention back to her. “Why don’t you just ask him out already instead of drooling from afar?”

“Shut up”, she protests half-heartedly, sitting next to her. The crowd is hiding her from the manager, so he won’t be bothering them anytime soon. Staring at Tony one more time, (y/n) sighs. “He just looks troubled, I wish I could do something. Anything.”

“You should go talk to him, doesn’t he like your snacks?”, she offers, sipping her wine distractingly. “Maybe food will cheer him up”, her tone is ironic.

“Shut up”, (y/n) repeats, rolling her eyes as she gets back up. “I better go back before someone sees me here doing nothing.”

“Cheer him up!”, Elvira dramatically exclaims as she steps away, and (y/n) can almost see the stupid smirk on her face.

The rest of the night passes by in a blink, and yet again she finds Tony sitting all alone in that same spot from yesterday. His friends are long gone by now and his never-ending cigar remains inside his mouth. Elvira had to leave early because of her work and (y/n) will probably get home by foot since she got no money for transportation. She’s clearing a random table in silence when Tony calls her name, a few feet away from her.

She looks up to meet his dark eyes and he seems a little drunk, a lazy smile resting on his lips. “Come here”, he invites, tapping the seat to his side loudly. The casino is empty except for him and the kitchen staff, which makes the scene a bit more intense than it probably should be. “Come here...”, he stretches the words, leaning forward.

(y/n) sighs and walks over to him against her best judgment. What good could come from a drunk, lonely man calling out for her? “How can I help, Tony?”, she murmurs, standing up next to him at a healthy distance.

“Can I get another Martini?”, he stammers, taking a drag. She says and does nothing in response, contemplating the conflict between following a customer’s order even when he clearly doesn’t need another Martini. Then Tony scowls at her, appearing suddenly angry. His veins pop out when he shouts, slamming his empty glass on the table. “Get me my fucking Martini!”

(y/n) steps back a little, frightened by his abrupt change of mood. With a simple nod, she goes to get his drink. The girl lets out a curse under her breath when she sees the bartender is already gone. She looks at Tony over her shoulder and he’s still staring at her with an unreadable expression. Great. Without knowing what to do, she enters the kitchen in a rush. Just as she’s approaching her co-worker so maybe he can help her make a goddamn Martini, a loud noise startles them both. Then another one, and another one.

Shots.

In a split second, (y/n) and her colleague are hiding behind the chef’s table in the middle of the room, huddled together like two frightened children. The shots don’t stop and keep blasting throughout the whole casino, some even hitting the glass on the door. At one point people start relentlessly shouting, even louder than the shots, and only then does (y/n) recognize one of the voices as being Tony’s.

God, was he hurt? But if he was, she couldn’t help him anyway, not even if she tried. Her whole body shakes in fear and her eyes are watery, her co-worker in a similar state. The chances of them dying in this position are just too great. If the assaulters were trying to rob the casino, they wouldn’t exactly care about killing two waiters in the process to leave no witnesses.

She’s trying to calm down her thoughts when suddenly there’s a deafening silence. The kitchen door opens with a thud and they both freeze in their spot. (y/n) is startled by the noise, her eyes so filled with tears it’s difficult to make out anything in her vision. She exchanges a look with her colleague and he nods, as if communicating something to her by that simple gesture. That’s when she realizes he has a knife in his hand.

She panics, pulling him by the arm in a desperate effort. “No, don’t go!”, her voice is an equally desperate whisper.

It’s too late, however, as he breaks free from her grip and bolts toward the door in a blink, knife in hand pointing forward. (y/n) lets out a scream as another shot is fired, reverberating through the white walls. The boy’s body falls to the ground instantly and she turns her head not to see him, gripping her knees tightly. Silence takes over the room yet again, and all she can do now is accept her fate. She closes her eyes and quietly sobs. There’s nothing left to do, this is the end.

Or so she thought.

“Help”, a weak whisper comes from the door.

Something heavy falls to the ground. (y/n) dares to slowly look to the side and notices the revolver surrounded by a pool of blood, while its owner slides with his back against the wall until he too falls to the floor, unconscious. She rushes over to Tony, unable to process that he has probably just killed a person in front of her. His suit is completely soaked in blood, especially where his arm was hit.

She considers what to do; the shooters must be either dead or on the run by now, as Tony was able to fend off them. They might not be in danger anymore, so her anxiety gradually gets under control. (y/n) takes a look at the wall on her left and crawls across the floor to the kitchen’s phone. A hand grabs her ankle tightly before she can reach it and she turns her head back in confusion.

“What...”

“No police, no hospitals”, Tony punctuates through a raspy cough, visibly struggling to make sense in his almost unconscious state.

(y/n) doesn’t say anything in response, only going back to his side with a concerned expression. She takes a look at his wound and notices it is still bleeding profusely, like the source of a small river. With a sudden sense of survival, she rips one of the sleeves of his suit and ties it around his arm in a strong knot, stopping the bleeding. Tony kicks a little from the pain and swears, his big brown eyes no longer managing to stay open.

“Okay, Tony. It’s fine, no police, no hospitals. I’ll take you to my place, I have a first aid kit there. It’ll be okay”, (y/n)’s voice is a tearful murmur that only she can hear, as Tony seems to really have passed out.

She looks around and analyses the mess surrounding them, feeling her chest burn due to her coworker’s corpse still standing there. For once in her life (y/n) had to be courageous to try and save someone’s life, when she couldn’t save her colleague’s. Taking a deep breath, she wipes off her insistent tears. She had to find a way to get them out of there before the police arrived. She alone, carrying a grown man who’s probably twice her weight, without any known means of transportation in the middle of the night.

Piece of cake.

(y/n) carefully stuffs her hands into Tony’s pockets, in an ultimate hope of maybe driving them off in his car. When she gets a key, a sigh of relief escapes her lips. She takes another decisive deep breath and counts to three before putting Tony’s arm around her shoulders at once. Grabbing his waist tightly, (y/n) lifts the man to stand beside her, leaning his body into hers. There’s no time for any more crying or wailing. He needed her help and she would do what she could to help him. End of story.

With some difficulty, she kicks the kitchen door open and quickly looks away when she finds more dead bodies on the floor of the main hall. It’s two men with machine guns still strapped to them, their faces disfigured and pools of blood around their heads. She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the fact that Tony is still alive after all. She had no idea as to why they were attacking him, but she was sure he didn’t deserve to be in those guys’ position. No matter what heavy stuff he is involved in.

(y/n) arranges Tony’s body against hers, finally managing to reach the door to the parking lot. She stops for a second in front of the three cars, considering her options. Tony appeared to be an extravagant man from the way he dressed, so that he had a car with seats covered in animal print wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

She opens the passenger door and wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead, setting Tony down carefully. He’s still asleep, but at least his injury is under control now. (y/n) goes around the vehicle and gets in the driver’s side, turning on the ignition and hitting the gas without a second thought. The sound of screeching tires is loud enough to bring Tony back to consciousness, his brown orbs as dazed as they are confused when he realizes where he is.

“Where...”

“Hang on, Tony, I don’t live that far”, she reassures, her voice raised so he can hear her over the traffic noise.

He blinks once, still looking at her puzzled. (y/n)’s eyes linger on his bloody figure and he shakes his head, his expression now turning sour. “That fucking Frank, I’m gonna put a fucking bullet in that motherfucker”, he growls, huffing like an animal.

Turning a corner, she points at his injured arm, not looking at him directly. “He did this to you, huh?”

Tony doesn’t respond, the anger in his eyes still very evident as he stares ahead. She decides not to insist on the matter and the rest of the way goes in silence. Every now and then she checks on him to see if he’s still awake, and though his angry face softens after a while, (y/n) notices that same tension on his shoulders from the other night. It’s as if he was just fine for milliseconds, then returned to his natural state of troubledness. Repressing a deep sigh, she tries not to think about it too much. It’s none of her business, anyway.

She stops in front of her building and helps him out of the car. They go up the stairs slowly and the discomfort is visible on Tony’s features. The “humiliating” position of needing help seems to be much worse for him than the shot he just took in the arm. Angry, troubled men are like that, (y/n) supposes, as she sits him on her couch.

“I’ll get the kit’, she mutters, knowing too well he hasn’t paid attention to her words as he looks around every corner of her apartment, like a child entering a new place. (y/n) comes back from the bathroom with the items and undoes the knot on his arm as gently as she can, attentive to any negative reactions from him. “Excuse me”, she coos, brushing the cotton against the spot where the bullet pierced his skin. She pauses for a second when Tony flinches once, his face contorted into a grimace that would be comical otherwise.

“Keep going”, he demands hoarsely, as if it’s strange for him to ask for anything.

(y/n) continues her work nonetheless, clearing her throat. “And I didn’t even get your Martini”, she gives him a half smile.

Tony makes a noise similar to a laugh, but his eyes are fixed on the wall in front of him. “So you got a sense of humour, huh?”, he’s amused, yet his expression is still awfully distant. “Good for you, chica.”

“I do have a sense of humour, I’m just shy”, she confesses, and a crease in her brows follows after when Tony’s demeanour remains unchanged. “Tony... I don’t wanna sound noisy, but you were in a gun fight just now and refused to call the police.”

Tony’s gaze is still on the wall. “It’s better for you if you don’t know, baby, trust me.”

“Alright, I won’t insist”, she wraps the gauze around his arm at last. “You got real lucky the bullet went through, the most you’re gonna need is an arm sling and some painkillers”, he simply nods to her change of subject, following her mindful movements on his bruise. She finishes off the bandage and sighs, satisfied with her own first aid skills. “Now you just need to take it easy and not move your arm too harshly. It’ll heal faster that...”

“I can’t fucking take it easy, I need to do something first”, Tony suddenly states, pulling his arm back to himself in one quick motion. He seems to regret this, however, letting out a scream of frustration and pain as the bleeding starts again. “Shit, fuck!”

(y/n) can’t help but roll her eyes. Men. “If you weren’t such a fucking asshole, this wouldn’t happen!”, she snarls, walking away from him in furious steps. She tossed the first-aid kit clumsily onto the coffee table, giving him a stern look. “You can spend the night here if you want, but that’s it! I’m done, I won’t be barking up the wrong tree forever.”

Tony’s eyes still don’t meet hers, but (y/n) can see they are full of an animosity that makes her unintentionally take a step back. “You don’t speak to me like that, you bitch!”, he yells in response, getting up from the couch to go to where she is standing.

(y/n) looks at him in disbelief, letting out a humourless laugh even though she’s slightly frightened by his violent attitude. So this was the bogeyman, she reckoned. “You ungrateful son of a bitch!”, she impulsively pushes him hard. Tony grabs her arms in a strong grip and holds her in place. “Get off me!”

“Shut the fuck up!”, he shouts with wide eyes, causing her to flinch in fear.

When (y/n) doesn’t say anything in response, he seems to come back to reality. Tony lets go of the girl quietly and sits back on the sofa, careful not to hurt his arm again. The bleeding seems to thankfully have stopped again, at least.

She watches his movements with a frown, unable to ignore the feeling of impotence that fills her entire self. That man was clearly tired, tired of everything and everyone. And regardless of what life choices might’ve led him to that state, (y/n) just couldn’t find it in her to judge him in anyway; not in this position. His shoulders are as tense as ever, his eyes are darker than their natural brown tones. What heavy sorrows could’ve turned this man into an almost empty shell, she wonders, as her chest pathetically stings for a stranger.

She sits next to him again, hugging her own body. “I wish I could help you”, she considers aloud, referring to more than just his physical wounds.

“You done enough.”

“But I didn’t, not really”, there’s pure emotion in her words, and it’s enough to make him look her in the eye for the first time since they got out of that car.

Tony’s hardened expression slowly fades away, leaving room to that same complexity in his gaze watching her from afar as she went to get his stupid Martini. Out of nowhere, for no apparent reason, that clumsy girl he defended one night surprised him yet again, posing as some kind of a saint ready to answer his every prayer. No one in their right mind would have dragged his bloody and shot ass out of that casino, knowing his reputation or not, but (y/n) did. And he just couldn’t understand why.

“Thank you”, it’s all he says, all he can think to say to this strange, sweet girl.

She gives him a small smile, gently placing her hand over his. “No, Tony. Thank you.”

And then he flies over to her lips, not caring that he’s made another sudden movement. (y/n) is taken by surprise, but as if it’s something that she deep down wanted from the start, she lets herself be taken over by Tony’s overwhelming caresses. Her palms are sweating and her heart is pounding in her chest, her shaky legs being held by him as he pulls her onto his lap.

It’s not a pleasant feeling, to be rubbing against bloody clothes, but his angry lips won’t let her think of anything else. He seems to be as filled with fury as he is with lust, groping every inch of (y/n)’s body as their mouths remain glued together. He growls between her kisses when physical touch alone isn’t enough to express all his desire, moving his hips under hers like a dog in heat. He’s harsh, forceful, full of wrath.

And she can’t get enough of it.

Tony squeezes her thighs tightly and murmurs in her ear, biting on her skin while blurting out hurried words: “I wanna fuck you. I wanna fuck you so bad, fuck, chica...”

“Tony”, (y/n) breathes, holding him by the neck as she searches for his eyes. He flashes a toothy smile, seeming to enjoy the stunning effect he has on her. “You’re hurt, we better...”

“I don’t mind, I can do it”, he confidently assures, squeezing her ass as hard as he can to prove his point.

(y/n) lets him guide her with needy hands and his callused, cold fingers roam her whole body with insatiable hunger. She smiles between their kisses, her warm lips juxtaposing his icy ones. God, how she needs Tony. She wants to have him inside her so bad, massaging her sweet spot with all the necessity and desire she knew filled his every bone.

“Let’s go to my room...”, she stammers in a quick moment of lucidity, breathing heavily in his ear. His tongue’s still nuzzling her neck and she makes an unexpectedly erotic sound. The things that man made her feel.

Tony lets out a husky laugh. “You sure you getting there without coming, baby?”, and he sucks on her sensitive skin more brutally, making (y/n) reflexively arch her back. Satisfied with this reaction, his good hand squeezes her thigh in an almost reassuring gesture. “C’mon”, he coos.

They get up from the couch and walk over to her bedroom in a rush. (y/n) doesn’t mind turning on the light when they lay on her bed, mouths pressed together still. She unceremoniously undresses from her uniform and helps Tony remove his own clothes, carefully reaching for his shot arm. He watched her silently as she did so, chest rising and falling rapidly even though they were in a fairly more relaxed mood now. Perhaps it was a reflection of his own personality; even in the lull, his intense nature tended to contrast with his surroundings.

Tony leans against the headboard and pulls her to his hips again, cupping her breasts. A shiver runs up her spine as he pays attention to her nipples, squeezing them with his fingertips. She moves her body forward in a slow dance and the pressure of his bulge against her pussy is like drinking water after a long day in the sun. She’s wet. God, how she’s wet for him.

(y/n) runs her hands down his chest, cracking a soft smile when she notices Tony’s unblinking eyes following her movements. His irises are piercing even in the gloom that surrounds them, as if studying his prey. She lets her fingers find his waistband, unbuckling his belt slowly. There’s no rush for her, ironically, while he seems to be holding himself back from combusting under her hot touch.

“No teasing”, he mutters, deep voice reverberating through the darkened room.

(y/n) doesn’t respond, simply tucking her hand inside his pants without further ado. Tony is stiff, throbbing like a headache. He’s hot and beefy, and although her cheeks burn with these thoughts, her arousal only increases. She can feel his cock pulsing in her palm and as she lazily begins masturbating him, a curse in Spanish jumps his lips. She had absolutely no idea how they got there, but they would stop at nothing now.

“You like that?”, she presses her thumb to the tip of his cock, getting slightly startled by Tony reflexively squeezing her arm a little too tightly. “Shh, I got you”, her voice is warm as she puts her mouth on his chin in a velvety caress.

Tony’s precum trickles down her soft fingers, soaking his underwear amid the pumps. He lets out a low, barely audible moan once more, and the way his face is contorted in relish and anticipation has the girl thrusting her hips against his instinctively. They’re both wet with pleasure, rubbing under damp clothes, and Tony seems to have had enough of this when he quickly unzips her pants, sliding them down her legs along with her underwear.

She’s taken by surprise once more and stops jerking him off for a second, only to pick up the pace as her bare pussy brushes against his crotch. Tony flexes his knees with the excruciating sensation of pleasure, muttering another stream of curses in his native language. He then suddenly makes her movements come to a halt on his cock, causing her to look into his eyes a bit lost.

“I wanna come inside you, baby”, it’s all he says before sticking two fingers into her entrance, curling them in search of her spot.

Her own surprise can’t contain the immense wave of delight rushing through her body now and (y/n) rides his digits shamelessly, mind too blurry to care for any shyness at this point. Tony is groaning with her as his thumb massages her clit, faces pressed together perhaps in an attempt of anchoring themselves. His mouth devours hers in a vulgar kiss, teeth and tongue sometimes missing their way in the process.

She grabs him by the shoulders and hugs his neck, ruffling his hair with her fingertips. (y/n) tugs at his strands and Tony seems to approve of the gesture, grinning between the kiss. He starts fingering her faster and it’s like fire in her walls; it burns, it hurts deliciously. His rough fingers violate her without any delicacy and his animal growls cause her insides to tingle.

“Harder, Tony, ah”, she throws her head back.

Tony continues to fuck her hard, the sweat on his forehead mixing with hers as he adds another digit. He stands straight to penetrate her better, going in as deep as he can. His arm is aching from the exertion, yet it’s the least of his worries while this woman is coming undone at his fingertips. Her entrance resembles a puddle and he wants to bathe in it.

“You’re so hot, chica”, he snarls, subtly annoyed that he’s so horny for her. Hot and bothered, indeed. (y/n) responds only with a moan, wiggling on his fingers like there’s no tomorrow. She’s glistening with sweat, damp hair plastered to her face, and Tony thinks it must be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She leans her hands on the mattress, arching her back gently. “Fuck”, he growls again, feeling his cock give an impatient tug at the sight of her.

Her breasts are sickeningly exposed in this position and Tony can’t help himself, attacking them with his lips. She opens her mouth deliberately, taking in all the air she can. Her tits bounce because of her tireless and frenetic movements still on his fingers and Tony thinks he will come just by looking at her like this.

She contorts her spine even more as Tony’s swift tongue swipes across her chest. He kisses her left breast lovingly, sucking it hard to the point of leaving red marks around her nipple. His irregular breath is burning her skin as she tries to sink her palms into the mattress for some support. Tony’s fingers continue to caress her pussy and he moves his lips back to her mouth, panting against (y/n) while the girl’s body shudders over his.

She comes on his hand with a groan ripping from her throat, burying her face in his neck. Tony’s arms are holding her tightly, despite his wound still throbbing a bit. She takes off his pants finally, throwing them on the floor carelessly along with his underwear. (y/n) sits on his cock without warning and starts moving, hands on his shoulders to steady her pace. The throaty noise he produces as she rides him makes her laugh a little; he is so manly and yet so needy.

Tony notices her amusement and raises his eyebrows slightly, smacking her ass hard. She lets out a surprised moan and proceeds to move faster, the wet, desperate sound now filling the entire room. He squeezes her breasts again, grunting when she squirms in his lap every now and then. His lips touch every spot on her bust, leaving kisses and small hickeys all over it.

They go fast, fast, fucking away any worries and doubts from minutes ago. The headboard slams against the wall and Tony’s back slams into the headboard with brutal force, which only seems to fuel his lust. He clutches (y/n)’s waist one last time before the last thrust, melting inside her with a groan that sounds more like a cry of relief. She follows right behind him, her pussy all painted white as she leaves his lap.

There is a long silence before she gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom without looking back, slowly coming back to reality. She meets her reflection in the mirror with a spent look, messy hair and torso completely ruined by Tony’s aggressive mouth.

So two months without sex were enough to make her fuck a criminal, huh? That was an interesting self-discovery. (y/n) sighs and washes her face quickly, somehow trying to cleanse Tony’s scent off her. Everything she did so far was probably wrong in so many ways, but oh, how good it felt to be loved by Tony Montana. It might’ve been just a one-night stand, still it was probably the best thing she felt in years.

Three confident knocks on the door bring her out of her daydreams. She swallows hard and swiftly puts on the robe hanging on the bathroom wall, glancing at her reflection one last time. Tony slams on the door again, this time clearly annoyed, and she rolls her eyes. Patience was definitely not his strong suit.

“Yes?”, she asks, opening the door before he can knock again.

Tony drops his fist to his side and (y/n) follows the movement with her eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up as she realizes he’s still butt naked. Her gaze quickly returns to his face and there is a certain uneasiness on his features, although he tries to hide it on his tone when he says: “you left me all alone, baby”, he flashes her a sly smile.

“I didn’t take you for the clingy type, Tony”, she replies equally amused, stepping forward as she closes the bathroom door. Tony grabs her around the waist and pulls her close, arching an eyebrow. “What, did I offend your honour?”

“Not really, but I’d let you offend me any day, cariño”, he cheekily states and (y/n) only laughs at his flirty behaviour, bringing her hands up to his face. Her thumbs trail his cheeks, stopping over his scar. His smile fades a little and his brown eyes look darken, yet no words leave his mouth. “What you thinking?”, he casually asks, rather than causing an unnecessary argument by being rough. There is no reason; not here, under (y/n)’s touch. It’s foolish to protest against palms so soft on his skin, feeling like a summer’s day breeze.

“You’re amazing, Tony. And I’m really glad I met you, for what is worth”, she blurts out, taking him and herself by surprise at the honesty of her words.

And it’s true, how foolish it may seem to be so enchanted by a complex person such as Tony in so little time. He defended her without even knowing who she was, and she helped him without a second thought in the most unexpected situation, for reasons unknown to the both of them. It is as compound as it is curious, that these two people felt instantly connected when brought together by chance.

So although it may seem foolish, (y/n) knows in her heart meeting Tony shifted her life forever. She can already feel it whenever he gives her a cocky smirk, like he’s doing right now. She makes a note to herself to stop inflating his gigantic ego, by the way.

“My dick’s that good, huh?”, he teases, kissing her neck.

“Shut up!”, she playfully pushes him, mindful of his injured arm. He gives her a peck on the lips and she smiles fondly, shaking her head slightly. “You know, I’m probably out of a job now, besides going to jail for acting as your accessory or something”, her tone is thoughtful, while her fingers still caress his scar smoothly.

(y/n) feels wobbly in her legs at his mischievous gaze, heart beating faster than she’d ever admit out loud. Tony then flashes another grin in her direction, brown eyes piercing through her skin. “You do make a pretty fucking accessory, chica.”