"What did he want?! Did you fuck him? Did you?!” / “I WAS GONNA MARRY YOU! I WAS GONNA MARRY A WHORE! A whore!”
Everything you've done up to this point was for Bobby and Bobby alone. What else would your intentions be for if it wasn't to hold onto and save everything the two of you have for one another? Bobby's set in his ways but the idea of losing you to the same fate Helen chose for herself is too much to bear. To see it is one thing, experience it--another, but just how much love can you claim if the one you adore is now the one hurting you?
[WARNINGS]: Mentions & themes of drug addiction and selling / Domestic abuse / Physical abuse / Verbal abuse / Depictions & themes of injury and blood.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The Eyes Like Stars girlies can EAT!! 🥺🙏🏻 And especially so since I will be putting this fic on a temporary hiatus as I focus more on finishing up/writing my Godfather fics first. I'm definitely not abandoning this fic and I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea that I am! With so my fics in my rotation and life changes, I'm struggling between balancing all of them and burning out/hitting writer's block. I will definitely return to this fic once I've completed my others and then we will go on with Emily and Bobby's story! For now, enjoy this (temporary) last chapter before the hiatus kicks in. I would also like to clarify for the sensitive nature of this chapter that I do not condone or romanticize abuse in any sort of way. This chapter also doesn't glorify it or anything like that.
Bobby’s release from prison marks the end of his and Helen’s relationship and you find yourself spending more time with Bobby and taking care of him after everything he’s been through. Working and living in Manhattan as a college drop-out, you distance yourself from Helen who Bobby and you take solace with one another in hopes to get out of the toxic lifestyle of drug use—promising each other to start a new life with one another and get clean. Falling in love with Bobby, you experience a mutual, passionate and loving relationship with its own highs and lows that promises to bloom into something more serious but also can threaten to collapse. As Bobby’s new girlfriend, your relationship hangs on a thread with old skeletons coming back into Bobby’s life, relapses, and a new panic on the horizon that threatens to undo it all.
Bobby knows Upper West Side Manhattan like the back of his hand; better than the majority of Manhattan-born residents through every street, turn, and block.
Give him a street and Bobby could tell you every corner store, the names of apartment buildings, if he knows anyone who lives there, who is shooting up, who is selling, and where the narcs are like it’s common sense.
“Bobby Axel” is a name every dealer, junkie, and narco alike knows on the street; word going around and connections made just like everybody else.
Bobby knows every detail of his home like it’s his duty, and it’s given him the advantage of sneaking away from the unwary or police at the perfect time with the layout of the city engrained in the back of his mind.
Bobby can never see himself doing anything else, anywhere else. Upper West Side Manhattan is his home. Needle Park is his home; it always has been, it always will be.
Being from New York City yourself but having memorized the same streets you, Bobby, and your friends are in day after day, everything you know and think you know of Upper West Side Manhattan pales in comparison to what Bobby knows.
Just as you think you’re taking the regular route back home from work, Bobby keeps his distance far behind you—blending into the crowd and particularly remaining next to the other outcasts and junkies dressed in navy jeans and a baggy hoodie like him.
You walk straight towards your apartment as you always have; not a single convenience store or grocery surrounds you upon the path you’re taking and Bobby can’t help but analyze your environment carefully; thinking if you took a different turn, you may bump into him in the next few minutes.
You don’t, and on purpose, Bobby lets you get home far before he does. So as long as you don’t know he’s coming and that Bobby wants to talk to you, he can approach you with time and circumstance on Bobby’s side.
Bobby takes the “scenic” route home, letting himself linger around the streets with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and the hood up, covering his head.
Trash litters the sidewalks with torn newspaper pages flying about, wrapping over flickering lampposts; the scents of cigarettes, garbage, and body odor lingering around the corners of each street Bobby passes by accompany him with the cool fall air and dimly lit, grimy blocks twisting and leading to your apartment.
It’s been years since Bobby’s memorized the crumbling streets before him, every old building and every hot spot that normally distracts and cools Bobby down when he’s pissed or stressed to shit but nothing gets through to him now.
Bobby can’t walk off his anger this time and he knows it. Bobby’s only able to remind himself why he’s going home—with the belief you’ve been lying to him this entire time.
Lying to him about the true nature of your work relationship with Sykes; every complaint you made, every time you called in sick just to avoid seeing him, and all that you explained to Bobby—what else would it all be for?
‘It makes sense.’ Bobby grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the street as he continues briskly walking down the block.
Bobby’s judgment is immediately clouded with his irritation and anger; the idea of your encounter that he saw firsthand can’t be thought of as anything else but some sort of affair.
Why else would that smug son of a bitch have that look on his face watching you leave, let alone stand there adjusting his jeans after another secret get-together the two of you had?
Unbeknownst of Bobby’s eyes on both you and Sykes, you know the truth of what happened and how you still feel against your supervisor; bitter, mostly indifferent, and annoyed, but when it comes to shooting and selling, everyone’s needs are all the same. Everyone’s the same.
Thinking nothing of it and unsurprised by Bobby’s absence back at your apartment, you step in and set your purse and keys down before locking the front door.
Letting out a sigh of relief, you rub your temple gingerly before slipping off your shoes and shrugging off your jacket.
The only thing on your mind at the moment is relaxation—time to yourself and nothing more; that is all shared with Bobby once he gets back home from what you subconsciously assume is selling or out with Chico, Irene, and the others.
You open your purse and carefully take out the wad of cash from Sykes you quickly stuffed inside before setting it on the coffee table in the living room.
Pulling your hair up into a loose ponytail, you head towards your bedroom and undress; opting for a comfy pair of sweatpants and a black spaghetti-strap tank top.
Feeling at ease in the comfort of your own home with no need to pretend to be inconspicuous or watch for a narco on the side of the street, you step into the bathroom momentarily to freshen up.
Glancing up in the mirror, you blink at your reflection and realize how you’ve been wearing nothing but exhaustion over your expression—and all too well at that.
Sighing softly, you turn on the tap to lukewarm water before adjusting it to get hotter—grabbing a bar of soap and beginning to scrub at your hands to wash them off and give them a good rinse.
You pause for a moment, staring at the running water as you swallow hard. You can’t help but feel you’re expecting something—anticipating something you’ve forgotten.
Attempting to shake off the queasy feeling brewing in your stomach, you purposefully avoid looking towards your arms and adjust the water to an almost ice-cold temperature.
Splashing your face off to awaken yourself a bit, you then close the tap and dry off your hands and face with a towel before walking back into the living room.
Your eyes land on the wad of cash placed upon the center of the coffee table once more as you begin to approach it; plopping down on the couch and reaching over for the money.
‘Eighty dollars.’ You can still practically hear Sykes’ voice in your head; seeping with the same desperation as someone whose used it more than once, but hasn’t fallen into an addiction just yet.
Your fingers flip through the twenty dollar bills in your hands again and again as you find yourself zoning in and out, barely focused on what you’re doing, to begin with.
You frown, staring at the fading number twenty imprinted on one of the dollar bills before you graze your thumb over it.
You know more than anything you don’t need this money, but Bobby does.
‘All of this is for Bobby,’ you think to yourself, sitting up to set down the cash neatly on the coffee table. ‘It’s not for me. I don’t need this… I don’t need any of this. This is all for him.’
Just as you set down the neatly stacked wad of cash down upon the coffee table in front of you again, you almost knock it over and send it flying from the impact of how hard you flinch at the sound of the front door abruptly unlocking and flying open.
Blinking in surprise, you look up to see Bobby entering your apartment and letting the door slam behind him.
Without so much as a smile, a “hello” or even that soft look in Bobby’s eyes you’ve gotten used to seeing when he comes home to you, all you can pick up is the anger, irritation, and bitterness scowling over Bobby’s expression.
‘Bobby?’ The unforgiving look in Bobby’s eyes replaces any look of love he once ever gave you; his body language demanding and expectant as if you demanded Bobby to approach you as such.
In a split second, Bobby’s eyes dart down to the money in front of you before cruelty mixes with the anger in his eyes and he sends his apartment keys flying onto the dining table across the room.
“Bobby—” You flinch again pressing your back against the couch.
“Yeah,” Bobby raises his voice over you sharply, cutting you off. “Counting that good money Sykes gave you? Made sure every dollar was accounted for?”
Stunned and at a loss for words, your reaction merely gives Bobby a green light to continue as he grits his teeth, approaching you in the living room.
“Did that son of a bitch pay you before or after you sucked his cock?”
“What?!” You flinch again as Bobby kicks the stack of money off of the coffee table, sending it flying to various spots in the living room.
“Answer my fucking questions!” Bobby shouts at you, facing you directly. “What did you do to him, huh? What did he want?! Did you fuck him? Did you?!”
“Bobby, I—”
“You stupid fucking whore!” Bobby seethes, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tilting your head back instantaneously to slap you across the face.
“Ah!” Yelping out loudly in pain, the force of Bobby’s slap with him letting go of your hair was harsh enough to cause you to flail off the couch face down—hitting the side of your body against the armrest.
“Bobby! What are you—" You hiccup, bursting out sobbing from fear, pain, and confusion hitting you all at once.
Without even realizing it, you’re holding up your arms—still quivering—up to your face to shield you from impact, shakily looking up at your boyfriend.
Bobby breathes heavily, taking a step back from you; his eyes bloodshot and glistening with tears of frustration and anger as both of you take in what just occurred.
‘Bobby…’ Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach as shock and guilt rack over you in a wave of nausea and numbness throughout your body.
‘Baby…’ Bobby hit you.
Your boyfriend—the one who cried in your arms night after night, the one you couldn’t bear to see in pain, suffering from his withdrawals or illness from being unable to feed and take care of himself properly; Bobby who you washed away all the pain and sadness off of his body, kissed the scratches over his stomach and would do anything for, hit you over something that never even happened.
Bobby doesn’t wait for another response from you nor is his intention to give you an explanation for his sudden outburst; he’s hellbent on releasing his anger first.
“Don’t act surprised with me,” Bobby hisses, beginning to raise his tone. “You whore! You—”
Seeing as you flinch again by being called a “whore”, Bobby lunges towards you again in response and grabs both of your arms as you scream out and attempt to thrash away.
“YOU FUCKING WHORE!” Bobby hauls you up by your arms and throws you back down on the couch. “WHORE! You were heading straight back home my ass!”
“Bobby—” You cry out in pain, “BOBBY!’
Blow after blow only worsens and grows harsher with each hit over your arms and wrists before Bobby begins to aim his fists toward your head; grabbing a fistful of your hair.
Screeching out, you struggle against Bobby’s overpowering grip but manage to clutch his wrists—digging your nails into Bobby’s wrists and prying them off of you with every ounce of strength you have left in you.
“BOBBY, STOP!” You hiccup again throughout your sobs, pushing him away from you. “Stop it, STOP! Please, stop!”
“Stop what?!” Bobby scowls, “you didn’t stop fucking lying to me so tell me why I should stop now!”
“Bobby—” Your lip trembles as you notice his gaze fall to the dollar bills scattered over the living room floor.
Bobby nods to himself slowly, eyeing every dollar bill he can see before staring back up at you; ready to lunge at you once more. “He paid you eighty dollars?”
“Bobby—” You sniffle, your bottom lip trembling as you grip the fabric of the couch tightly.
“My girlfriend’s pussy is only worth eighty dollars?” Bobby narrows his eyes, “you cheap, used fucking whore!”
“STOP IT! STOP!” Screaming out at him, you scramble up and off the couch to rush towards the bathroom. “I didn’t! I didn’t do anything, I—”
“Come here, you fucking slut!” Bobby immediately begins to follow after you, reaching out to grab you again.
“I didn’t—no! NO! STOP IT, BOBBY!” Wailing, you barely make it to the bathroom before Bobby sends you flying to the floor with a rough shove like a ragdoll.
“I SAID COME HERE!” His sudden amount of strength against you who can barely breathe through your tears would take you by surprise if you weren’t the one Bobby was releasing his frustrations out on.
“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” You shriek, landing on your side with a thud—almost knocking over the coffee table. “Stop it!” You shakily brace yourself for impact, holding your arms up to your face, pleading, “Please stop! PLEASE! L-let me talk to you—”
“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” Bobby screams back down at you, pointing, “I saw you walking out of the fucking side exit of your corporate shit hole, used and bought like the fucking whore you are! Can’t even face the front street so other people don’t pick up on it, huh?!”
“Bobby—” You flinch, wounded by his words.
“And for what?!” Bobby throws his hands up in the air, “for eighty dollars? You and that fucking asshole you kept telling me about? You think I’m fucking stupid, Emily? Huh—” Bobby hovers over top of you, leaning down to squeeze your face harshly as you continue crying out. “Huh? HUH!? You think I’m fucking stupid?!”
“B-Bobby!” You sputter, hiccupping. “How—”
“How do I know?!” Bobby scoffs, abruptly letting go of your face. “I followed you, you stupid bitch! I followed you because I knew you were fucking lying!”
“NO! I wasn’t—”
“You had someplace to be and I knew it from how you were checking that stupid fucking watch constantly—“ Bobby points to the shattered watch barely holding together over your wrist from the impact of his blows. “You fucking lied to me! You said you were gonna grab some shit from the store before coming back home, huh?! YOU WERE WITH ANOTHER MAN!”
“NO, I WASN’T! I wasn’t, Bobby! I wasn’t!” Your throat burns from screaming back at him in desperation. “I sold him shit, that’s all he wanted! I sold him what he fucking needed so he would get off my ass about it! I didn’t touch him and he didn’t touch me, I swear to you! I swear!”
Bobby ignores you, rolling his eyes; only a clear indication of the lack of a foundation of trust between the two of you.
“Listen to me,” Bobby hisses, pointing at his eyes with his hands trembling from mounting anger. “I would rather gouge my own eyes out than ever see you with someone else. Is that what I have to do? Hmm?” His eyes sting with tears. “Is that what you want me to do? Scratch my own fucking eyes out? I’ll do—”
“NO, STOP IT!” You let out a shriek at the top of your lungs before immediately trying to scramble up to your feet.
“Then my girlfriend’s a fucking whore!” Bobby lunges back at you but trips over the lamp cord, causing it to fall over and shatter to pieces on the floor—buying you a few seconds of precious time to race to the bedroom.
“And I was gonna marry you!” Bobby gives up the chase as you slam the door behind you, pressing your back against it with all of your might to keep it shut.
“YOU KNOW THAT?!” Bobby follows to the bedroom, screaming at the closed door in front of him. “I WAS GONNA MARRY YOU! I WAS GONNA MARRY A WHORE! A whore!”
Barely able to stand on your own feet and shivering out of control, you sob loudly as you rest your head against the door.
Sneering, Bobby turns back and grabs your keys off the counter before taking off from the suite entirely—purposefully letting the door slam behind him.
‘Oh my God…’ You crumble to your knees; your eyes tender and aching from sobbing but unable to stop yourself from letting your emotions consume you entirely.
With too much to process and take in, all you can do is helplessly look at the scratches and light gashes over your body from everything Bobby’s done to you.
Promised bruises and fresh blood dripping from your nose; everything stings yet feels hazy and warm to the touch.
Tilting your head back slowly, you attempt to take in a deep breath but every sense of calmness has departed you upon the first blow Bobby delivered.
All you can do is cry in pain that both your heart and mind feel. All you can do is let it eat you alive now. All you do is lay on the floor by the door and drown in your own tears.
Bobby walked out on you after all and as he did, he thought about nothing but what his relationship with you has come to now.
Bobby’s true possessive nature got the better of him, and he knows he can’t handle it at its fullest either—not after everything he went through with Helen prostituting herself.
If anything, Bobby’s made it clear to you that he desires and craves you and only you to the extent that just the thought of having to share you or seeing you with someone else makes him want to kill himself.
Still, even though he’s out on the streets with nothing but a bruised ego, his hatred, his anger, and his broken pride, the only thing he can think of is that you may just have been telling nothing but the truth.
Hello to Mrs. Fleck!! 👀 Wondering what you think about Joker 2 upcoming? I’m personally really, really excited for it because Joker is one of my all time favourite films ever and I just know Todd and Joaquin are gonna knock it out of the park with a sequel!! ❤️❤️
Ohh that's so cute 😂🥺👉🏻👈🏻 hi you! 💙🤗 Ahh thank you for asking 🥺 I tried not to rant too much but I failed miserably, sorry I have no summary skills 😭
I'm very glad to know that you're so happy to get the sequel! 🥺 I agree, Joaquin and Todd can do a movie as wonderful as Joker 2019, if things are done right 🥺 I have to admit that I have very mixed feelings towards a sequel, I froze for quiet a while when I saw Todd's ig post and to this day I'm still trying to elaborate 😂
I'm very worried that they will change Arthur's characters and the nice memory Joker left in our hearts back in 2019. 🥺 I think the movie worked wonderfully as a standalone, tbh. Sometimes it's nice to not getting the answers of everything involving a character, and especially in Arthur's case I think there are lots of things I would rather keep up to personal interpretation only and be happy with that. I find difficult to make a sequel of Joker without answering those questions. 🥺 I would be devastated if the sequel showed an Arthur who doesn't stay true to the kind of Arthur we've come to know in 2019, or if I found out that I've never gotten his character right. Not that I claim to know him better than Joaquin and Todd do of course 😂 but I hope you know what I mean! 🥺 I also hope wholeheartedly that they're doing this movie because the story & Arthur have still something to tell, not just for a matter of money. Sequels made only because of money are never nice 😭 (understandable why they would though)
That being said, I know I would love his character no matter what. It's Arthur. 🥺 No matter what happens in the sequel, it's going to be always our Arthur after all. I don't question it. I think being a bit hesitant is normal, but worries aside I'm just very, genuinely happy to see him again. 💙💙 There's so much about him we still don't know yet and I would love to get to know him deeper. I trust Joaquin and Todd, they are the people who made Arthur the special and unique character who so many people have come to love so deeply and for so long, so I've no doubt that they can do it again. 💙 They love Arthur and care about this movie, and that's what matters. I want to try and put my worries aside, and focus only on the chance that they can do again a great job. 💙 I get so excited if I think that we can get all the little sweet treats we've never gotten in Joker 2019 and we've been fantasizing about these years! 🥺
I rambled a lot already but I also wanted to take the chance and tell you how much I love your gifset, and that you're such a good gif maker! 🥺 I'm always happy when you post something new, getting new Joker contents always feels like Christmas morning and I really appreciate it so I wanted to thank you 🥺💙 and your tags on your gifsets always make me giggle 😂 I hope you're having a nice day and thank you for this ask, I've to admit that I got so happy and excited when I saw your url on my inbox 🙈🙈🙈
She’s a Tiger [Tony Montana x Reader 18+ Smut] Oneshot.
Read on AO3.
18+, explicit smut oneshot.
“I like to look at what’s mine, baby.” / “You want it that badly and rough, huh?”
Loyalty, money and trust are the only three principles Tony's revered since the attempt on his life at his estate and his divorce with Elvira. Meeting you amidst his new business deals, what you and Tony have had with one another behind closed doors is anything but innocent. Tony wanted you the moment he saw you and decided nothing would get in his way. Being able to spend as much time as you wanted with Tony while on business, both of your sexual desires matched into a three year sexual relationship with Tony's intention to go further with you. As the new owner of The Babylon Club, you've never shied away from a good time and as Tony's made excuses to come and see you time and time again, tonight he takes you back to your estate and gives you a rough night in that you've been begging for.
[WARNINGS]: Drinking/alcohol consumption / Wine play / Mentions of drugs / Heavy touching and teasing / Dirty talk / Rough sex / Spanking / Rough face and hair grabbing / Rough oral sex / Rimming / Slapping / Orgasm edging / Spit play / Fingering.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: My first Tony Montana x Reader (smut 😛) oneshot is finally here!! I promise you all it was well worth the wait. 🥵 The smut in this fic revolves around rough smut, so please make sure you check out the warnings. 🙏🏻 If you know my writing style, you know I can't stand reading "Y/N" or "reader", so the reader in this oneshot is named Celeste. ✨ Multi-chapter fic coming when...!? We'll have to see! 👀 All I have to say is until then, enjoy one smutty night in with rough Tony in bed sharing a bottle of wine. 🥴🔥
[ Babylon Club, 1:00 AM ]
Tony’s no stranger to the Babylon Club and its flashing lights, crowds of sweaty people dancing, pop and techno music blaring over the speakers while exotic cocktails and bottles of wine easily costing somebody’s monthly paycheque are served by the dozen.
Sights such as cocktail waitresses talking up customers at the front of the bar, patrons snorting cocaine off their credit cards in the bathrooms, bouncers keeping watch, and hookups in the corner are just the ordinary as Tony and Manny remain surrounded by the carefree and upbeat aura of the Babylon Club.
That’s the way it’s been for you just as it has for anyone else. The Babylon Club makes you millions a month; a truth Tony, Manny, and your father both know.
What your father doesn’t know is that you’ve been fucking his favorite Miami drug lord almost as long as the two have known one another and worked with each other.
Tony hit his own private jackpot with Manny knowing he couldn’t even get a share of the big money working for street rats like Frank Lopez.
Playing it big and making it big as Tony’s new motto after he and Manny singlehandedly took down every one of Sosa’s assassins sent to his estate which in itself sent out a dangerous method to anyone who had their eyes on Tony Montana.
Tony Montana isn’t a threat to be taken lightly. Tony Montana isn’t to be fucked with. Tony Montana isn’t your average Joe smuggling powder out on the street and neither is anybody acquainted with him. Tony Montana is the man with the money and the power—two traits your father valued in a business partner.
Born and raised in Miami, Florida coming from money and knowing money, your father owns every major hotel, casino, and resort in the entire state with a monopoly over the tourism industry.
Being an only child and his only daughter, you’ve always been one to manage and help out in your line of the family business now working with Montana Management Company to launder drug money and sell cocaine in Miami.
Tony’s now been under this business for three years with mutual trust and liking for your father—getting along with him and especially you on a personal level whether it's business talks or simply sharing a drink at the club. The big life has paid off for both Tony and Manny indefinitely.
As your own investment and as a birthday present, your father bought the Babylon Club and registered it under your name three years ago, even when Frank and Elvira were regular patrons at the time.
Tony and Manny have always been entitled to free drinks and service at the Babylon, but Tony’s never shied away from giving luxurious tips knowing just to who the club belongs.
When your father decided to meet with Tony and discuss the opportunity to do business with him for the first time three years ago, that was also the day you met Tony for yourself.
~
[ 3 Years Ago ]
“In all honesty,” your father glanced down at the endless array of numbers printed over a financial statement before he shook his head. “These numbers mean nothing to me. Your name is enough.”
“Who told ya first?” Tony took a puff of his Cuban cigar, completely and utterly relaxed in front of your father as compared to the formal and upright sitting Manny to his side. “That cockroach Sosa or Lopez?”
“Lopez, to be honest with you.” Your father chuckled and set the paper down. “Sosa choked on his own blood before I could even get a word out of him.”
“So now you know.” Manny gave a grin, “that says enough for us. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” Your father repeated with a small scoff as he raised his cocktail glass up to his lips. “I think you’re either a smart businessman or a dead businessman, so,” taking a large sip, your father set his drink back down. “I’m gonna take advantage of what those two bastards lost out on.”
Just then, you knocked on the door of your father’s office lightly enough to be heard but not to interrupt his conversation—carrying a suitcase in your free hand.
“Ah, come in.” Your father’s attention peaked, expecting you. “There she is now.”
You turned the doorknob and pushed open the door, aware you were a little over five minutes late to the meeting but only because of what you were carrying with you.
Tony turned his head towards the door in surprise, expecting no further company, especially from a “she”, whereas Manny kept his attention focused on the banking statements scattered over your father’s office desk.
You knew your father had been meeting with two new businessmen today and you were one of the first to see them escorted inside with security.
You neither knew the businessmen’s names nor saw their faces properly but if it’s one thing that caught your eye and almost caused you to do a doubletake as you came to approach your father, it was locking eyes with Tony Montana.
From the moment that you had walked in carrying the suitcase close to you, the man with the short cut, choppy hair and pinstripe blue suit worn with a carefreeness to reveal the gold necklaces over a peek of his chest hair, had caught your attention instantly.
Feeling a tingle of arousal from the quick attraction, you forced your eyes off of Tony as quickly as you had put them on him and walked up to your father with the suitcase. “Everything’s all settled, dad.”
‘Dad?’ Tony thought to himself and let his greedy eyes dart over every inch of your body in the flowing, white summer dress that hugged over your curves.
“Ah, perfect. Thanks, darling.” Your father gave you a warm smile, gesturing to the middle of his table. “Please set it down here—I wanna show our newest partners what they’ve been itching for since they got here.”
While Manny politely looked up to acknowledge your presence now in the room, Tony was all the more amused to see his newest and wealthiest business partner had a daughter just as cunning as him and a part of the business.
“Tony, Manny,” your father looked back at the two, beginning to introduce them to you. “This is my daughter. You’ll see she’s no different from you and me in our little operation. She owns the Babylon Club under our family name. Honey,” your father first pointed at Manny, “Manny Ribera,” then to Tony, whom you couldn’t help but catch his gaze over you, “and Tony Montana.”
“Mm, nice to meet you.” Purposefully, you extended your hand out to Manny to shake his first.
“Nice to meet you too.” Manny gave you his signature, charming smile.
“Babylon Club, huh?” Tony didn’t bother with introductions as he firmly shook your hand. “Think I’ve seen you there a few times before.”
Curiosity sparks in your eyes. “Haven’t seen you around before, Mr. Montana.”
“I’ll come ‘round more often then,” Tony smirked, causing your father and Manny to chuckle as you both began to pull your hands back from each other.
Although you could pinpoint the exact moment you found yourself attracted to this Tony Montana figure as when you first walked into your father’s office, it was another thing entirely to feel his firm hand squeezing over yours and knowing just who you were meeting.
“I look forward to it then.” You told him.
The scent of Tony’s expensive cologne hit you first, and the gold adorning his collarbones, the unbuttoned dress shirt Tony was wearing and the look of confident boldness over his expression only confirmed how sexy you found this man. Even with Tony’s entrance to your father’s manor, you could tell he carried himself like he took no shit from anybody and owned the place.
“You can call me Tony.” Tony grazed his tongue over his lips and wet them without taking his eyes off of you. “What do you call yourself?”
Tony’s eyes must have admired every inch of your body from your clothes to your eyes, the shape of your breasts, your thighs, your ass down to the natural posture your body was in.
Seeing and knowing for himself that you were just as confident as he is in your words and actions—that you weren’t a nobody—turned Tony on even more.
The Babylon Club would now just be an excuse for Tony to drop by with or without Manny to see you time and time again, and that was an advantage Tony wouldn’t be giving up.
The gold over Tony’s slender fingers glistened underneath the bright lights in your father’s office and emphasized all the more that Tony was clearly giving it away to you right away that he was attracted to you.
Manny already felt the second-hand embarrassment from how Tony was coming off to you with his facial expression alone—something he would tease Tony about later without a doubt.
After telling Tony your name, you took your seat next to your father across from Tony and Manny.
It was then that your father gestured back to the suitcase you had brought in and his security approached from the other end of the room to open it up in front of Tony and Manny.
The suitcase popped open to reveal three million dollars in cash, neatly stacked and organized inside.
Your father rose from his seat with an amused look over his eyes as he picked up a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from it and gave it a wave. “Three million is nothing, this is daily cash. This is the very least of what we’ll all be making a day.”
“That’s all I wanna see, man.” Tony grinned and put his cigar loosely in the corner of his mouth. “I like that.”
“We’ll make a boatload more then.” Your father laughed, tossing the stack in his hand to Tony who immediately caught it midair. “So then you know my answer to both of you is crystal clear today.”
“That is is,” Manny said with a smile. “We’re partners?”
“Without a doubt, we’re partners.” Your father sealed the deal by shaking hands with Tony Montana and Manny Ribera that day three years ago.
Having become official business partners, you knew to yourself back then that this was the first time you’d seen and gotten to know Tony Montana, but it certainly wouldn’t be your last—especially if your own desire could help it.
~
[ Present Day, 1985, Babylon Club ]
She’s on Fire blasts through the speakers of the Babylon Club, bringing nothing but the familiar sight of sweaty crowds drunk on cocktails and grinding up against one another through dance moves.
Tony and Manny sit in their back, private booth specially reserved for their every visit, smoking a cigar over five hundred dollars worth of 1964, vintage red wine.
Tony remains just as distracted as Manny, now used to the loud blaring music above him as he puffs his cigar and gazes off towards the dancefloor.
Already enjoying the luxury, familiarity, and comfort the Babylon Club has to offer, Tony wouldn’t want to spend the rest of his Friday evening after a full day of business everywhere else—but it’s your presence in the nightclub and only that which Tony gives a shit about.
Tony’s night is coming to an end but only with you, knowing he’s to pick you up tonight and return you to your father’s estate while he’s still away on business in Las Vegas for the time being.
Manny relaxes his muscles against the leather seats of the booth, letting out a relieved sigh and staring at his fingers clasped around his glass of wine. “Man, thought my fingers were gonna fall off today man. Count, count, count…”
“Get used to it.” Tony reverts his gaze to Manny. “You countin’ the big bucks now.”
“We got machines to do that for us, man.” Manny chuckles, sipping his wine. “They count that shit, then you make us count it twice.”
“The boss like his money exact.” Tony’s cigar loosely rests in the corner of his mouth. “And so do I.”
“Yeah?” Manny exhales, swallowing down his wine. “How much we takin’ home tonight, eh?”
“Ten.” Tony inches his wineglass closer to him over the table. “Each.”
“Shiiiiiit,” Manny grins, unable to hide his enthusiasm through his body language. “Damn right, baby. Oh, I could get used to this. Beats washin’ dishes any day for me.”
“Let the world think we still doing that.” Tony takes a long drag of his cigar. “I ain’t hungry anymore.”
“Got a million reasons to make mama proud now.” Manny holds up his wineglass, “and that girl of yours, eh?”
“My girl,” Tony repeats, a little stunned by Manny’s suggestive comment knowing he’s referring to you, but it’s only then that Tony easily discerns you out of the crowd of other girls you dance by.
Sitting upright in his seat, Tony locks eyes with the way your hips sway back and forth to the beat of the music.
Carefree and lost within the music’s rhythm, you dance in a group with others, solely focused on enjoying yourself and unaware Tony’s eyes are on you from afar.
Ignoring the flashy sequin dresses of the girls dancing next to you and with you, Tony keeps his eyes focused only on you—drowning out the rest of his surroundings.
Manny’s already rambling on about buying a new sportscar he’s had his eyes on for the last little while, but as Tony’s greedy eyes wander over your body, all he sees and wants to see is that skin-tight, little black dress hugging every curve of your body.
The mini dress you’re wearing tonight has a lace-up feature on both sides that you’ve tied up to tighten your dress further over your thighs—revealing a sexy peek of skin through the laces with your back entirely exposed from the halter top style dress.
Wearing fishnet socks and finishing off your look for tonight with a pair of shiny black pumps, a surge of arousal hits Tony as he gets a perfect view of you dancing from where he and Manny sit.
Tony knows he’s to be taking you home tonight, but all he wants to do is relax back and watch you dance before him all night; it’s no surprise to Tony yet again how sexy he finds you.
Still ignoring Manny whose under the impression Tony’s actually listening to him, Tony watches you throw your head back in laughter, spinning around in a dance.
Tony’s eyes immediately land on your ass just as his imagination wanders to how he’d approach you on the dancefloor; his cigar in the corner of his mouth as he grinds up against your body in dance and gives your ass a firm squeeze.
From the peek of skin showing through the laced-up sides of your dress, Tony already wants to slip his fingers through and teasingly feel at you.
Tony knows he’d have to fight the urge to pull off the ties and strip you down, but if anything he could do so once you both leave the Babylon together.
After all, both you and Tony know it wouldn’t be the first time he’s stripped you and down and fucked you—especially in the back of Tony’s car when he was far too impatient and horny to bother driving you home or to his place first.
“Ay—” Manny nudges Tony, realizing only a few minutes onto his sportscar ramble that Tony may not even be listening in the first place. “You listening to me, man?”
“Yeah.” Tony clears his throat, still sounding distracted as his eyes haven’t left you.
“Oh yeah?” Manny shifts in his seat, taking a sip of his wine. “Then what I say, man?”
“I don’t know.” Tony mumbles, continuing to watch you dance. “Some bullshit about another car or some shit.”
“Oh man, you ain’t listening at all.” Manny groans out in annoyance. “What—Oh. Ohhhhh, man…” A playful grin spreads over Manny’s lips as he finds just where Tony’s eyes firmly remain—onto you over the dancefloor. “Okay now, I see what you’re up to.”
Tony doesn’t answer Manny, almost ignoring him outright as he lets his eyes continue to wander over the shape of your thighs and ass.
“You keep lookin’ at Celeste like that and she’s gonna see you creepin’ her, man.” Manny nudges Tony again with his elbow.
“Shut up, man.” Tony elbows Manny back. “I’m not creepin’ her. You know we gotta take her home tonight, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Manny taps his fingers against the back of the wine bottle. “And when we gonna do that?”
Tony forces his eyes off of you for the first time in several minutes to glance over at Manny and the wine. “Now. You go get the car, park in the front. I gonna get her then we head out.”
“Alright, alright.” Manny grunts, stretching out his arms. “I’m taking this too, though.” He snatches up the wine bottle.
“You leaving the rest for Celeste.” Manny points a finger at the wine bottle clutched in Manny’s hand. “You drank too much of that shit.”
“I will, I will.” Manny laughs. “I’mma just put it in the car so you won’t forget. All you do is stare at her anyway, man.”
“Yeah, whatever. I’mma go down to her.” Tony puts out his cigar, setting it down over the table before rising out of his seat at the same time as Manny.
Manny steps out of the booth holding the bottle of wine like it’s his firstborn child while he manages to awkwardly get through the sweaty crowds before him.
Tony thinks you haven’t seen him yet or at least you won’t while he’s approaching the dancefloor with just how packed and crowded it is, but you’ve already spotted him from the corner of your eye since he’d been sitting and drinking with Manny earlier on in the evening.
Even with the flashing lights strobing through the dimly light nightclub and the fast rhythm of loud music playing from the overhead speakers, it only takes you another quick glance up to see Tony now making his way towards you.
Without breaking your own dancing pace, you continue to swerve your hips and dance, enjoying yourself with everyone else around you.
Tony’s awkward half shuffle half dance through the crowd causes an amused smile to break over your face as you giggle, already locking eyes with him.
Without a word said to each other, you move from side to side over to Tony and press your back against his chest, teasing him by grinding against his body as you dance.
The surge of arousal Tony’s become all too familiar with in your presence spikes through Tony again, turned on to no avail by the way you dance and how sexy Tony finds your confidence coming off you.
“Is the night ending so soon?” You reach your hand back, caressing Tony’s face behind your shoulder.
“Only if you want it to be.” Tony grins, dancing with you.
You twirl around over your heel, facing him directly. “Mhmm, and when exactly did you get here?”
“Didn’t notice?” Tony raises a brow, wrapping an arm around your waist.
“How could I?” You move in closer to him, running a hand through your hair. “You’ve seen what I’ve been doing all night, haven’t you?”
“I noticed you alright.” Tony’s eyes flicker from your breasts back up to your eyes. “Just like everyone in this room too.”
“They can watch if they want. I don’t care what they think.” You chuckle quietly, pressing your hips up to Tony’s.
“Yeah, I came here ‘bout thirty minutes ago before I saw you dancin’ like this.” Tony gestures to your waist. “Got you a little treat for tonight—you like your red wine, huh?”
“Mhmm.” You hold your arms up, continuing to dance. “If that bottle will last with Manny. Where is he, anyway?”
“Don’t worry ‘bout Manny, baby. He out to get the car.” Tony places both hands over your hips, giving them a light squeeze.
“Baby?” You blush, already feeling a swarm of butterflies beginning to accompany your reaction.
“That’s what you are,” Tony says in your ear over the music, “always been. You like it when I call you that?”
“You know I do.” Your face flushes red as you clutch onto Tony’s shoulders. “You gonna tease me in here all night like that or take me home?”
“Depends.” Tony smirks, “I can keep Manny waiting a while longer, you know. When you dancin’ like this,” he bites his lip, holding himself back from slipping his fingers underneath the lacing detail of your dress, “gonna have me waitin’ all night.”
“Mhmm, I’m not stupid you know.” You let out a laugh, placing your hands over top of Tony’s on your hips. “I’ve seen you looking at me all night, Tony.”
“Good.” Tony’s eyes meet with yours. “I like to look at what’s mine, baby.”
‘Fuck...’ It’s all Tony needs to say to have your arousal matching his in an instant in front of everyone.
You feel Tony’s hand squeezing over your ass harshly. “And like this, why not?” His hands begin to feel the material of your dress. “Look at you—got a nice body, perfect thighs, ass, tits.”
“Yeah? What are you gonna do with it?” You challenge back teasingly.
“What am I gonna do with it?” Tony repeats, raising both of his brows. There’s that playful look shining in his eyes again. “I’mma take you home like I was told to do. That’s what I’m gonna do.”
“Fine by me.” You smirk, letting Tony guide you away from the dancefloor by your hips. “If Manny’s driving us home, I won’t even be looking at you twice in the car.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.” Tony grins playfully, moving past crowds with you. “Manny can be a nosy fuck when he wanna be.” You laugh out at Tony’s comment as he continues, “oh yeah, I love the guy to death. He like my brother, but he gonna shove this up both of our asses if he finds out. Better he don’t know nothin’. Not now.”
“Always.” You hold back a giggle as you and Tony finally reach the lobby of the club.
“So my girl gonna pretend she don’t wanna touch me but,” Tony’s eyes dart over yours as he wets his lips, “you get home with me anytime and you act like you haven’t been fucked in a year.”
“Tony!” You whine, nudging him out of reaction to his provocative comment.
“It’s true, don’t lie.” Tony nudges you back with his elbow as you both approach the exit out of the club.
From the very moment you take the first step out and distance yourself from Tony, a moody and irritated “someone-interrupted-my-evening-out-and-is-making-me-go-home” look twists over your expression.
Manny’s already pulled out his convertible in front of the club, resting his arm against the front seat and eagerly looking up at you and Tony; not the least bit surprised as to how annoyed you appear.
“Hey!” Manny takes his other hand off the steering wheel, waving at you both to grab your attention. “How was your night, Celeste?”
“Just fine.” You huff, approaching the back seat. “Ended a little too early though, don’t you think?” You briefly exchange a glance with Tony, knowing, in reality, you want nothing more than for him to take you back home already.
“Ah, yeah. Sorry about that.” Manny smiles back at you sheepishly. “Gotta do as boss says, you know. You look beautiful tonight, by the way.”
“You say it to my sister first, now to the boss's girl?” Tony raises a brow at Manny, getting into the passenger seat next to him.
You hold back a smile as Manny lets out a laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “I got my eyes on one girl, just my Gina.”
“Uh-huh.” Tony rolls his eyes, relaxing in his seat. “Get that straight.”
“No harsh feelings, right Tony?” Manny jokes back.
“Yeah, yeah.” Tony brushes him off, hearing you giggle behind him. “Just drive before I rearrange your jaw bones, okay? Okay.”
Manny chuckles, shaking his head as he starts up his car and begins to pull out of the vicinity of the Babylon Club careful to avoid the swarm of taxis and limousines hounding one another for VIP parking spots.
“What ya think, Celeste?” Manny taps his fingers over the steering wheel, driving out onto the street. “You like the car?”
“Yeah.” Your eyes wander over the red, leather seats and detailing. “Yours, huh?”
“Yep, one of them.” Manny proudly claims. “You seen Tony’s new ride?”
“How she gonna see what I didn’t buy, man?” Tony rests his head back against the headrest. “Sportscar is upcoming. I’m getting it customized, not buying that boring factory shit.”
“Of course you are.” Manny points out.
“Another one, Tony?” You raise your brows, unaware he’s beginning to build such a collection for himself.
“Oh yeah.” Tony grins, turning his head back to face you. “Because I can, you know? That’s why. That’s the beauty of all this.” Tony begins to gesture and pat around the interior of Manny’s car. “Boss told me what’s the point of cash if you ain’t gonna spend it like this?”
“I don’t know, man.” Manny lets out a laugh. “Maybe our cars ain’t good enough. You know that Elvira always say she won’t be ‘caught dead’ in our cars.”
Elvira’s name sparks your interest instantly as you sit up in your seat. “Elvira Hancock?”
“Fuck Elvira, man.” Tony spits out, growing irritated almost immediately. “She ain’t like nothing.”
“So the great Tony Montana couldn’t even impress her, huh?” You rest your chin over your fist, amused by Tony’s reaction just by the mention of Elvira’s name.
“Frank wasn’t just balls deep in her pussy. In her mind too.” Tony gestures to the side of his head as Manny snickers. “I ain’t ever impressed that woman. I got the big mansion, but she ain’ like me.”
“Maybe that’s better.” Manny points out. “Never hook up with the boss’ girl, that’s the main rule.”
Hiding your growing smirk behind your hand, you exchange a glance with Tony who winks at you. That’s definitely always been the case between the two of you—without a doubt.
A brief moment of silence follows before Tony slouches back in his seat and clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah. Boss’ girl. Especially one that don’t wanna be seen with you, right? She say shit like ‘you got off a banana boat, man’.”
Manny can’t help but burst out laughing, gesturing over to you. “At least when we take the boss’ daughter to dinner she doesn’t snort her own supply just to keep a conversation up, huh?”
“Damn.” You mumble in astonishment. “What the hell was up with that?”
“I dunno, man.” Tony throws his hands up in surrender. “I don’t give a shit no more.”
“Elvira really stormed off like they say she did?” You clear your throat.
“Yeah,” Manny replies, no longer making a laughing matter out of it. “She went off to Balti—what was it?”
“She got a new sugar daddy or somethin’, I guess.” Tony scoffs.
“And you two…?” You point your finger at Tony, expecting him to elaborate. “Divorced afterward?”
“What do you think, man?” Tony appears in no mood to answer any questions about it. “First thing she did was throw the papers in my face.”
“Someone sounds rather bitter.” You run a hand through your hair, tousling it.
“Confused.” Tony corrects you. “I give the woman everything and she don’t like it, don’t want it. Oh but you can get this, oh you see me dead in that car, I don’t go in no pools like that, I don’t eat this, I don’t like the wine you buy me. So what? She only want the powder. That’s crazy man. You can’t live like that.”
“Never get high on your own supply,” Manny quietly singsongs Frank Lopez’s advice to himself. “Yeah, man.”
Amused by how quickly both Tony and Manny’s tone has changed throughout the sudden shift of conversation touching Elvira’s name, you’re aware now that the playful, tough guy demeanor off Tony has faded into a serious and mellow, moody attitude.
You never met Elvira Hancock personally and didn’t feel the need to, but you’ve seen her in person in the past with Frank Lopez from your father’s business dealings with him.
Your father—just like Tony—never liked Frank much to begin with, but tolerated him for the sake of business and making money. It was never more than that, mostly unbeknownst to Frank himself, so it was nothing but a relief for your father and his business partners to hear Tony made short work of Frank and his men.
“Couldn’t have done a better job myself. That Tony—I told them, I said ‘don’t fuck with this guy’. Now I can’t say anything to the bastards at all, eh?”
The same reaction was warranted from your father and his men with Sosa’s death, but he was far more impressed with how Tony took down every single one of his men that clearly outnumbered Tony after they breached the Montana estate.
Without Sosa in the way and all of his operations falling into the hands of Tony and your father, there was no longer any heavy competition or talk about a monopoly starting to come onto the drug trade.
As a ‘thank you’ of sorts and a show of gratitude, your father personally paid for all of Tony’s expenses including the damage to his estate and belongings and provided replacements for Tony’s weaponry all out of his own pocket like a gift.
However, the bond between your father and Tony as both friends and business partners wasn’t bought or fueled by fear one may turn on the other. It’s built on trust and loyalty and is all the more exciting to you that your dirty little secret is that you’re fucking Tony on the regular without another soul knowing.
Still, Tony and you couldn’t be farther away from what “fuck buddies” are. Just as Tony has trust and loyalty to your father, he does for you.
Tony’s the only one who knows just what you like behind closed doors—how rough you love taking him in bed and how loud you can beg and whine for his cock.
“What does a woman who already got the whole world at her feet want from a guy like me. Huh?”
“Just your loyalty.”
Tony knew then without doing so much as even flirting with you that he liked you—that he wanted you for himself.
After Sosa’s attempt on exacting revenge on Tony, almost losing Gina to gunfire and seeing the men he shared drinks with and counted cash with shooting at him relentlessly, Tony came out of that situation holding loyalty above all.
With the loyalty and trust you gave to Tony, he could never think of you just as a fling, something to fuck to pass the time let alone a “fuck buddy” and he’s made that clear to you time and time again, one way or another.
Tony knows personally—and perhaps you don’t—but your father would more than likely approve and not mind Tony and you being in a relationship with one another.
Your father sees Tony as a successful man of his word, his equal—not some half-brained goon working for him after all, so who's to say Tony won’t ask for his approval in the very near future?
The rest of the car ride home consists of small talk mostly between Tony and Manny, helping you keep up the “I’m-irritated-my-night-ended-early-thanks-to-Tony” attitude knowing how very curious Manny can be, piecing two and two together if he suspects some sexual chemistry going on between you and Tony.
Driving through the guarded gates after brief security clearance, Manny slows his car to a halt by the front entrance of your father’s estate before parking; still mesmerized by the grand splendor of the manor regardless of how many times Manny comes to visit.
Complete with custom-carved, marble fountains, three swimming pools, a private tennis court, and a garage for fourteen sports cars, the luxurious estate is a sight for sore eyes on its own just from the outside view.
Tony and you are both well aware your father still isn’t home—away on a business trip in Los Angeles for the next few days, and your estate remains heavily guarded.
Manny on the other hand is still under the belief that your father is indeed home and occupied, hence why he requested Manny and Tony to pick you up from the Babylon.
Tony’s mansion isn’t far from yours in terms of size or distance; still in the same enclosed, private and hidden lots of Miami.
From the moment both of you step out of Manny’s car, your security by the front doors recognizes the three of you from afar.
Little glistening lights illuminate the walkway past the floral arrangements in the garden wrapping around the estate and leading up to the front doors.
There’s a peaceful contrasting silence of crickets chirping and a warm summer breeze brushing up against you three from the loud, sweaty, and packed Babylon Club, marking the end of your night and the entrance into some much-needed “relaxation”.
“You gonna see the big boss, Tony?” Manny looks over at both of you.
“Yeah, man.” Tony takes it from him with a nod. “Still got some business to do for tonight. I still got one of my cars parked here, I’mma drive home after.”
“Alright.” Manny accepts the lie, “call me if you need anything, and hey—Celeste—” Manny snaps his finger at you, “you too, you know?”
“For sure.” You chuckle quietly. “Thanks for the drive home, Manny.”
“Heh, no problem.” Manny grins, always boastful of his driving skills in the newest sports cars he can get his hands on. “Oh, and don’t forget this, yeah?” Manny reaches between the cushions of the car seats, pulling out the wine bottle he and Tony shared earlier tonight, and hands it to Tony.
“You put that between the seats, man?” Tony knits his eyebrows in disgust and confusion.
“Yeah, why?” Manny pats the seats as you clasp a hand over your mouth to hold back your giggling. “I kept it nice and safe in case we hit a road bump, you know?”
“You better hope this shit ain’t broken, man.” Tony carefully examines the bottle in his hand before giving an accusing glare to Manny. “That’s five hundred bucks, if it smash in your car I was gonna make you lick it up.”
Manny and you burst out laughing as Tony rolls his eyes, shooing Manny off and dismissing him. “You just go say goodnight to Gina for me. You can’t fuck that up.”
“Yeah man, I will, no worries.” Manny starts up his car again, waving at the two of you. “Goodniiiight! I’mma see both of you tomorrow.”
“Night! Drive carefully!” You wave back as Tony shakes his head, heading straight for the estate instead.
“This guy, man.” Tony looks over his shoulder the minute Manny begins to drive back towards the secured gate, now blasting loud pop music from his car’s radio. “Twenty-four seven party.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t offer to come to see ‘the boss man’ with you.” You smirk, approaching the front doors of the estate with Tony.
“Oh, yeah.” Tony chuckles, “the one in Los Angeles for the next few days. Take it easy, huh baby?” Tony gives your ass a firm smack, grabbing it with one hand and giving the bottle of wine in his other hand a shake. “I gotta make excuses so he, believe me, you know? Not gonna say I’mma walk in here and fuck my girl tonight.”
Your face flushes red with blush as you slip off your heels by the foyer. “Who said anything about fucking?”
“Don’t tease me like that, baby.” Tony licks over his lips, holding up the wine. “I ain’t gonna do so until my girl gets to relax with me tonight.”
“You know I’d love to.” You smile wryly, eyeing the wine in his hand.
“You got more of those guards up there?” Tony’s eyes dart up towards the spiral staircase leading to the second floor.
“Mhmm, just a few.” You clasp off your earrings, looking up at the stairs. “They’re at the end of every hall, not much different from here.”
“Good.” Tony continues staring at the second floor, getting a good look for himself. “Then they won’t be all up hearin’ you in your room.” His gaze directs back down to the wine bottle in his hand.
“What’s wrong with taking it right here?” A playful mood sets through you as you gesture Tony towards the living room.
“Sittin’ thirty feet away from each other in that big ass room?” Tony grins back at you. “What I gotta do to be close to you, baby?”
You let out a small laugh, “we’ve got privacy, of course. I’ll take you upstairs if you really want.”
“You do that then.” Tony follows you from behind as you lead him off towards the staircase.
“Eager much?” You glance over your shoulder at Tony, sliding your hand up the railing.
“Eager?” Tony repeats, knowing damn well what you mean as you come near your bedroom. “Just get in that room—I’mma tell you what eager is.”
“Tony,” you giggle, pushing open your bedroom door and feeling Tony push you in with his hand over your ass.
“Gonna have to wait.” Tony’s quick to kick the door back shut with his ankle and set the wine bottle aside over top of your dresser. “You c’mere.” In an instant, Tony grabs your hips and causes you to squeal out in excitement, pulling your ass against the erection in his dress trousers. “What’s this, huh?”
“Tony,” you groan, feeling his cock brushing up against your ass and feeling almost embarrassed at how quickly he’s got you aroused.
“You see these?” Tony breathes hotly over your neck, tugging on the strings over the side of your dress. “You know, I been wanting to rip these off you since tonight. You lookin’ this sexy—” He gives the strings another pull before slapping your ass again.
“More than welcome to do it now,” you moan back in response. “Push it, already.”
“Push it, huh?” Tony grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him before tilting your chin up roughly to face him. “You tellin’ me to what to do, baby?”
“Mhmm,” you graze your tongue against your bottom lip, “stop pretending like Manny’s still here and push it already.”
“Oh yeah,” Tony roughly grabs your face, giving it a shake. “I’ll fuckin’ push it, baby. I’ll push it.”
You let out a half squeal, half gasp as Tony shoves you onto your bed, prompting you to immediately begin to strip off your skin-tight dress. “You want it that badly and rough, huh?”
“Don’t fuckin’ remind me.” Just as quickly, Tony kneels on top of your bed and hovers over top of you, yanking and pulling at the fabric of your dress to get you undressed as quickly as possible. “You don’t know—” Tony hungrily kisses up your neck, much too impatient and frantic with his movements. “How fucking sexy you are.”
“Tony,” a soft moan escapes your lips as you tilt your head up to let Tony kiss you further; letting your hands wander through his choppy hair. “F-fuck.”
“Want to do this to you—” Tony’s kisses grow more demanding and sloppy as he pulls your dress off your chest and down by your waist. “All fuckin’ night. You know that?”
“Yes, baby. Yes,” you whimper, already feeling your nipples harden from Tony’s fingers brushing up against them and the cool air of your bedroom.
“Fuck this,” Tony throws the dress off your thighs and tosses it to the floor like a rag, shrugging off his own suit jacket next. “Not even wearin’ a bra, huh?”
“Just how you like it,” you tease, squeezing your breasts together.
“Don’t fuckin’ tease me, baby.” Tony grabs your face again with one hand, sharing a wet, full-mouthed kiss with you.
Your eyes flutter shut instantly as you part your lips open to feel Tony’s tongue dominating yours; his kiss is deep, greedy, and almost bruising with power behind it.
It’s not the first time your lips have ached for more after Tony’s kiss, reddened and glistening with his spit.
“S-so much for the wine,” you breathe shakily as Tony breaks the kiss.
Tony unbuckles his leather belt, tossing it over to the pile of his and your clothes upon the bedroom floor. “You know I wouldn’t forget the wine, baby.” Tony gives both of your breasts a firm slap, “I’ll drink it off your fuckin’ tits if I have to.”
“Uh, fuck!” You cry out in pleasure, watching as Tony begins to fully undress before you.
“Get undressed, but keep these on.” Tony pulls at your stockings.
“Mm, yes sir.” Only left in your fishnet stockings and a dainty pair of black, lace panties beneath him, you hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties and slip them off your ankles. “I’ve only got one wineglass in here, you know?”
“That’s gonna be enough, believe me.” Tony’s cock springs free from his briefs before he throws those off as well, pumping his thick eight inches in one hand before momentarily getting off the bed to reach for the wine.
‘Oh fuck. Fuck.’ Deep, tugging arousal builds in the pit of your stomach from the sight of Tony naked before you, let alone the feeling of your pussy having its own heartbeat from seeing his size again like it’s the first time.
Tony’s eyes dart across your room before spotting the single wine glass over your makeup table.
“We’re gonna share a glass together, huh?” You rub down your thighs, beginning to spread open your legs.
“Think I have a much better idea than that, baby.” Tony licks over his lips, watching your pussy lips spread open—dewy from the wetness of your arousal. Tony holds the bottle of red wine in one and the wineglass in the other, keeping his eyes over your naked body and approaching the bed again. “Not gonna make me repeat myself tonight, right baby?”
“Never.” Your breath hitches as you watch Tony kneel down on the bed. “I’ll do anything you want, you know that.”
“I do,” Tony smirks wryly, gesturing to you with the wine bottle. “Get on those hands and knees—ass up, face down, baby.”
You gladly do as Tony demands, arching your back and blushing furiously knowing Tony’s got a perfect view of your ass and pussy from the doggy-style position you’re in.
Keeping your face pressed down onto the pillow in front of you, your eyes peek to the side to see Tony placing the wine glass and the bottle onto your nightstand—redirecting his attention to you now.
“Mmhmm,” Tony cups your ass with both hands, squeezing and touching you.
“Ooh,” you let out a soft whimper, aroused by the feeling of Tony’s cool, gold rings against your skin. “Tony…”
“This ass belongs to me.” Tony gives your ass cheek a harsh slap, taking you by surprise. “Doesn’t it? Huh?”
“Mmm, yes!” You cry out, feeling Tony’s firm hands roughly fondling and squeezing your ass. “Yes, sir—” your words are muffled out from speaking against the pillow.
“This ass,” Tony hooks his fingers into the holes of your fishnet stocks, tearing a hole in them right over your ass and pussy with hardly any effort. “Is mine.” Tony spanks your other ass cheek even harder than he did to the other the first time. “Don’t move, baby.”
“M-mhmm.” You nod shakily against the pillow, keeping your legs spread open and your ass and back arched up in the air.
Tony takes the wineglass off of the end table, spreading your ass with one hand before inching the stem of the glass in-between both of your ass cheeks so it’s tucked in without risk of falling out. “Yeah, look at that…”
Gasping quietly in surprise from feeling the glass being held between your ass cheeks, you look over your shoulder to see Tony giving the wineglass a few more nudges to nestle it between your ass.
“Said we was gonna share the wine.” Tony snatches the bottle of red wine off the end table next, popping the loosely put top off before moving the bottle towards your mouth. “You want a taste, baby? That good, red wine?”
“Mhmm,” nodding, you take a shaky sip of the wine straight from the bottle but only get a little bit to swallow before Tony pulls the bottle back.
“Now we can share. Get a real fuckin’ taste.” Tony begins to not only pour the wine all over your ass and torn fishnet stockings but into the wineglass between your ass as well.
“Yeah, baby. Look at that.” With Tony pouring the glass aimlessly and chuckling to himself as he makes a mess, you shiver from the cold, crimson liquor dripping all down your ass, soaking into your stockings with a majority of the wine landing into the wineglass.
“Tony!” You whine, covered in wine and still looking back at him over your shoulder as Tony lets the empty wine bottle roll onto the other side of the bed.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Keeping the wineglass firmly pressed between your ass, Tony grabs your ass cheeks with both hands again and begins to lick up the wine over your skin.
“Ohhhh,” a moan escapes your mouth as you’re back to keeping your head firmly placed against the pillow. “Fuck, fuck…”
“I got it everywhere…for a reason,” Tony pants, letting his tongue slobber up the wine over your ass and thighs. “Mmm, taste so fuckin’ good. And ya got an ass like that…” Tony smacks both of your ass cheeks, letting more wine drip onto your legs and the bed before he yanks the wineglass out from between your ass.
“Ah!” You giggle breathily, clenching down on the bed sheets with both hands as you glance back over your shoulder again to see Tony taking a messy gulp of the wine before exhaling deeply.
“Come here, slut.” Gritting his teeth, Tony yanks a fistful of your hair back and raises the wine glass to your lips, spilling a bit down your chest before letting you drink up the rest. “Take a sip, huh?”
“I want—” You part open your lips, excited for a taste yourself but end up spilling the majority of it down your breasts.
“Someone’s a little too excited.” Tony chuckles breathily, giving you a rough, full-mouthed kiss over the mouth that could almost bruise you before he lets go of both the empty wine glass in his hand and your hair.
“Tonyyyyy,” you whine, moaning as loud as ever as Tony moves back behind you, now quick to spread your ass cheeks open again before slicking his tongue in between.
“Ohhhhh, my God!” You throw your head back in surprise and moan loudly feeling Tony’s warm, wet tongue circling over your asshole and back down to your pussy.
“Fuck—” Humming against your clit, Tony drools and spits all over both your ass and pussy—licking every inch of you hungrily as if it’s his last meal. “—yes! YES!”
Demanding, rough, and feverish, Tony grips your hips to press your ass onto his face; his own spit dribbling down his chin from eating the hell out of you. “Mm!”
Waves of pleasure soar through you, causing your knees to tingle and feel weak from how Tony’s tongue focuses on flickering over your clit. “M-more, more, please, yes, more!”
You can neither stop yourself from moaning nor continuing to push your hips back against his face—obsessed with how greedy Tony is when it comes to teasing and pleasing you.
With the way Tony keeps a perfect rhythm and pace over your clit, it only takes you a few minutes throughout your filthy moans to feel your toes and fingers clenching from the intense orgasm approaching you.
“Tony! Tony!” You plead out, rolling your eyes back in pleasure. “G-gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”
Tony is barely holding himself back while sloppily eating you out. Determined to make you cum over his tongue, Tony’s cock remains rock hard and pulsating—desperate to be inside you so much that it’s almost uncomfortable to him.
Spurts of precum already begin to dribble down Tony’s tip and shaft from hearing you moan and groan about how good Tony’s making you feel again and again.
Obsessed with the way Tony’s tongue licks and suckles over both of your holes, you attempt to keep your moaning quiet by muffling your voice against the pillow, but you can hardly remain still in the doggy-style position while Tony’s tongue is easing its way inside your pussy.
Tony doesn’t relent, beginning to slick his index finger inside of you two—impressed by how wet your pussy has become mixed with his spit.
“Ahhhh, fuck, yes! C-cumming, I’m cumming—” Unable to hold back any longer, your orgasm breaks through and instantly rocks over every inch of your body in erotic ecstasy as Tony continues finger fucking you throughout it.
Before you can even process what just happened or even act out in shock towards it, Tony’s eyes widen in amusement and he grins—keeping his head angled under your pussy as you squirt over his chin and neck in orgasm.
“That’s fuckin’ perfect, baby.” Tony smacks your pussy with the palm of his hand, giving your pussy lips a shake to get more of your squirt and cum out while swallowing everything in his mouth and on his lips.
“T-Tony, Tony,” struggling to keep your back arched with the energy drained out of you from such an intense, heavenly orgasm, you squeal again to feel Tony dipping two fingers inside of your pussy, getting a string of your cum between them.
“Taste, baby.” Tony grips your neck, pulling you back before smearing your cum over your lips and then easing his fingers inside your mouth. “See how fuckin’ good you taste. Squirt in my mouth like that.”
“Oh fuck—” You let out another moan as Tony roughly grips your throat and forces you to flip over.
“Spread yourself open.” Pinning your back down onto the bed, Tony grabs both of your ankles and stretches them back towards your shoulders. “Yeah baby, like that.”
Clutching onto your ankles and holding them up by your head in as much as you can stretch and spread yourself wide open for Tony, your face flushes red in humiliation and arousal. “Please…”
“Yeah,” Tony chuckles breathily, spreading your pussy lips open with both hands. “Look at that pussy, huh?” Tony rolls his tongue in his mouth before letting a wad of spit land over your clit.
You gasp out softly in surprise, watching as Tony rubs his spit in with the palm of his hand all over the wet folds of your pussy, and with his free hand, he pumps all thick, eight inches of his cock.
“Give me,” you whine, inhaling sharply as Tony doesn’t waste time teasing you further and slicks his cock over the folds of your pussy.
“Not gonna have to ask me twice,” Tony grunts, obsessed with how warm and wet your pussy feels against his shaft. “Fuck…”
The oversensitivity on your clit from your first orgasm causes you to squirm underneath Tony, whining quietly and feeling as if you’re about to sink into the bed from embarrassment at the way Tony looks pleased down at your pussy.
“You’re a tiger,” Tony breathes, positioning his cock to your entrance. “You know that?”
The impressive length of his cock alone causes the butterflies swarming in your stomach to knot up in excitement, wanting Tony to push every single inch of him inside you until you’re filled to the brim with his cock and begging for more.
Giggling out of breath, you feel Tony’s precum dripping over your entrance hole, easily mixing in with your wetness.
Tony positions his hips as if he’s about to thrust in, but purposefully delays to tease you. Instead, Tony’s hands trail up to your breasts, giving them a squeeze with both hands.
“Gonna get you even more wet for me, baby.” Tony lets his fingers toy over your hardened, sensitive nipples—rubbing them between his forefingers and hearing you moan back in response.
Tony leans his head down to kiss both of your nipples sloppily, causing you to whimper and tug on his hair.
Now more than ever, you can’t stop yourself from fantasizing about bouncing over Tony’s cock—wanting him badly as ever through all of this teasing.
Obsessed with the feeling of Tony’s firm, large hands gripping over the sides of your throat, your hot skin feels cool relief from the gold rings over Tony’s finger and his silver chain bracelet as he begins to apply pressure.
“Got ya, baby.” Tony now has you right where he wants you and how he wants you—fully under his dominance and control, spread open and ready to be mercilessly fucked all night.
Breathing heavily and locking eyes with Tony, you’ve absolutely no desire to fight back or resist. All your mind tells you is how desperately you want to get fucking railed by this man as hard as he wants to take you for however long he wants to pound your pussy.
“You’re mine, ain’t that right, baby?” Tony gives your face a smack, demanding a quick answer. “Ain’t that right?”
“Y-yes, Tonyyyyyy—ohhh!” You cry out in pleasure as you feel Tony’s cock entering your pussy, one thick inch at a time to fill you in.
“Fuck, yes, yes, yes.” Tony hisses under his breath, watching his cock penetrate you. “You like that baby, huh? That big cock going inside that tight pussy?”
All you can let out are filthy moans in response; your momentary shyness with Tony is replaced by a burst of sexual confidence.
“Ooh,” Tony grunts as he stretches and fills your pussy completely. “Keep those nice legs up for me, baby.”
“Uhhhh,” groaning loudly, you feel a slight burning sensation from Tony’s thickness inside of you before it's replaced by nothing but pure pleasure; his cock beginning to thrust back and forth. “F-fuck me, Tony. Fuck me!”
“You’ll let me do anything I want?” Tony pants, clutching onto your inner thighs and picking up his pace fucking you. “Huh?”
“A-anything you want,” you nod frantically with a moan. “God, your cock feels so good.”
“That’s what I like to hear, baby.” Tony plants a full-mouthed, sloppy kiss over your mouth as he continues thrusting deeply and roughly.
You roll your eyes back in pleasure, feeling the room get ten degrees hotter to you from how Tony angles his cock downward to hit your weak spots as he fucks you.
As Tony begins to suckle and kiss your neck roughly, you pick up on the scent of his expensive cologne mixing with the smell of sex in the room.
Tony’s cock twitches in your body, pulsating with so much arousal that all he wants to do is pound you mercilessly all night; your body has never cried out this desperately for him to fuck you.
Tony gives one of your breasts a slap, watching them jiggle in front of him. “I m-make you feel good, huh?” An aggressive, demanding Tony is more than welcome fucking every one of his desires into you on your bed.
“Yes!” You whine, shakily watching his cock slick into your pussy with ease.
“You take my cock in like a slut, you know that?” Tony speeds up, even more, his cock now rapidly slamming in and out of you with no intention to ever slow back down.
“Fuck!” You pant as you feel Tony’s lips pulling over the skin on your neck, leaving a reddened hickie and only heightening your pleasure.
Just from the way Tony’s body is pressed up to yours as he fucks you and the sight of Tony’s hips gyrating to yours sparks a fire of sexual frustration and desire into you like none other.
‘He knows exactly where to touch me, to make me like this…’
As Tony’s kisses trail upward, growing sloppier until he’s practically licking up your neck and to your jawline, you both join in another needy kiss with tongue.
You can feel Tony’s tongue battling for dominance over yours, suckling over it any chance he gets and meeting your moans into his mouth for a response.
“Your father—” Tony parts from the kiss as a string of spit from both of your mouths splits. “—doesn’t know I’m fucking his daughter like this huh?”
As you whimper and whine about from sensation after sensation, Tony keeps both of his firm hands pressed onto your hips and lets you eagerly take his cock in again and again with little to no effort on his part.
Now with a hand going up to grip your throat again, Tony leans down to your ear and fully angles his thrusting downward to reach your G-spot.
“I want you so much, baby,” Tony breathes hotly over your neck. “Fuck…” The pressure he keeps down onto your hip subsides as Tony’s fingers now move down to play with your soaked clit at a quickened pace.
You let out a raspy moan and buck your hips up in response to the sudden, almost about to scream out from how good it feels to have Tony’s fingers rubbing quickly over your clit.
The expression on your face twists to pure delirium as your orgasm approaches you steadily.
All you can hear is Tony breathing down against your lips saying, “I’m making you my little whore.”
“Tony, oh fuck!” Your legs begin to quiver up above your sides and you begin to struggle to maintain a hold on your ankles.
Each moan you give out is louder than the last, but it’s a surprise when Tony suddenly slicks his cock out of your pussy and taps it roughly over your reddened, throbbing clit.
“Don’t wanna make you cum just yet, huh?” Tony gives your face another slap—not enough to sting or leave a mark but enough for some pain knowing how much you love it.
His tongue hungrily grazes over your top and bottom lips before his hands squeeze over yours on your ankles, insisting you keep yourself spread in this position.
Your clit is almost swollen with arousal, begging to be touched and stimulated so much that your orgasm is desperate to be released even as Tony just teases you.
“Oooh, baby, music to my ears.” Tony chuckles breathily, letting his cock soaked in your juices slide over your clit once more just to hear the sloshing sound of the folds of your pussy parting.
Tony doesn’t waste any more time in teasing you—knowing you’re about to cum and if anything, you’ll do so on his cock only.
Tony jerks his hips down and roughly thrusts into you without warning, making you scream from how good his cock feels filling you up all over again.
“You’re mine,” Tony growls in a low voice, “mine.”
Tony exhales shakily, gritting his teeth as he presses his hips in further, completely filling you to the brim with his cock stretching open your tightness.
“Ohhhh, I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum!” You squeal, arching your hips to Tony’s. “Oh, God!” It takes every bit of willpower in you not to scream out again and again from the euphoric sensations Tony draws out of you.
Tony forces his own orgasm back, refusing to cum in you just yet but the way your pussy clenches and contracts around his cock tempts him to do otherwise.
Tony coaxes your orgasm out of you first; the sight of him now with beads of sweat over his forehead sticking to his hair as he’s fixated on fucking you until you cum is more than enough to have you give in.
There’s an insatiable lust and craving you and Tony have for one another that releases through your second orgasm as you cum over his cock—shrieking out through your moans. “Yesssss!”
“I wanna fuck you—” Tony squeezes your thighs so harshly he digs his fingernails into your skin before slapping them as hard as he can. “—all the fuckin’ time.”
Your mascara and eyeliner smear off your eyes and drip onto your cheeks from tearing up—it’s not due to pain or being overwhelmed, but from how good you’re being fucked and how intense your orgasm spilling out of you is.
Tony never slows his pace, obsessed with feeling your pussy still humming around his cock from the aftermath of your orgasm. “You fuck so good, baby.”
With Tony fucking the ever-living life out of you by the second, you desperately beg and whine for him to touch you over and over again—slapping and smacking your breasts, pussy, and thighs.
Tony continues pounding into your soaked pussy like a wild animal, growing far more aggressive knowing how badly you like it rough with him.
Barely able to form out a coherent sentence, your trembling hands threaten to loosen from holding up your ankles, and the soreness your legs feel from being spread open for so long even adds to your pleasure.
“Fuck!” Tony pounds into you, causing the springs in your mattress to squeak from fucking you like a ragdoll.
Tony’s more than well aware of how you roll your hips back at him weakly, still desperate for each and every thrust inside of you.
Tony grins down at your pussy lazily, loving the way your creamy cum drips off his cock while he continues to pummel inside of you. “T-tight fucking pussy.”
You curl your toes in response, using the last bit of energy inside of you to clutch onto your ankles as your third orgasm begins to build in your pelvis.
“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” Tony squeezes your face, forcing you to face him directly.
Doing as he says, your eyes widen as Tony spits in your mouth. You swallow instantly, giggling breathily. “Y-yes!”
“Good girl,” Tony praises you, caressing the side of your cheek.
Your third orgasm building inside of you now is growing increasingly insistent and almost pleasurably painful.
This time as Tony can tell you’re about to cum, he has no plans on drawing it out of you for long so he can take you by surprise again.
“Fuck, oh my God!” The tip of Tony’s cock hits your G-Spot and causes you to moan out so loud your hands let go of your ankles as your climax unwinds.
This time your orgasm hits you from all sides, unraveling in your gut and squirting over Tony’s cock and lower waist uncontrollably.
“Mm!” Tony keeps your body firmly pinned to the bed, edging his own orgasm for as long as he can through yours.
It’s definitely not the first time you’ve squirted over Tony’s cock and with the way a final whine escapes your lips as Tony shoots his cum deep inside of your pussy, you revel in the sensation of feeling spurt after hot spurt of his seed in you.
Tony jerks his head back, letting out the loudest, deep moan you’ve heard from him as his cock twitches inside of you. “Yeah, baby—that’s it.”
Over a dozen spurts of thick cum inside of you later, a devilish smirk crosses Tony’s lips as he pops his cock out of you like nothing happened.
“Oh!” You whimper, quick to clutch onto your lower pelvis from the sudden feeling of fullness coming out of you.
“Fuck, yeah, baby. Look at that.” Tony spreads open your pussy lips, watching eagerly as a loud of his cum oozes out of you.
“Tony,” you lick over your lips weakly. “G-gonna get me pregnant?”
“I’ve been thinkin’ about baby names all night,” he grins before giving you a wet kiss.
“You and me both,” you giggle weakly, clutching onto his shoulders. “Surely you’re not done with me.”
“You know how I fuck you well then.” Tony pulls your hair to move you off the bed. “I ain’t gonna be finished with you all night, baby. See this?” He pumps his still-hard cock, “gonna fuckin’ suck on it, aren’t you?”
“Mm, yes, I will.” You grin up at Tony as he practically drags you down to your knees off the bed.
“Fucking suck and don’t make me wait.” Tony taps the tip of his cum covered cock over your lips. “I wanna fuck that pretty mouth of yours, baby.”
You eagerly attempt to catch Tony’s cock in your mouth without using your hands and instantly surprise Tony with how you push your head in to take him into your throat.
“You’re gonna choke on my cum down that throat,” Tony keeps a steady hand over the back of your head to guide you on his cock.
As you sloppily begin to suck over Tony’s shaft, he bucks his hips forwards in response and moans. “Fuck, just like that.”
The sight of your head bobbing back and forth over Tony’s cock like a hungry whore is one he’d gladly want to see night after night if he could help it.
Tony can’t hold back his own moans, letting his hands roam through your hair and pull back the loose, messy strands from your face.
It’s only after then that he begins to thrust into your mouth to make you take more of his cock deeper down your throat, gritting his teeth. “Choke on it—dirty fucking whore.”
Insistently face fucking you, you gargle and gag over Tony’s cock as you slobber over it in a messy blowjob.
You clasp your hands around Tony’s girth, pumping his cock and giving him a handjob while you suck him off as fast as you can take him in and out of your mouth again.
Tony’s eyes remain half opened, his lips parted to let out low groans as he feels his second orgasm steadily approaching with your wet, warm mouth wrapped around his throbbing cock.
“You like having your mouth used, don’t you?” Tony watches as you drool all over his shaft, letting your spit drip off of him in wads before it lands on the floor.
Sucking, slurping, jerking him off—it’s Tony’s hips beginning to twitch while he thrusts into your mouth that signals he’s about to hit the peak of his next orgasm.
Looking up at Tony with an innocent gaze in your eyes, you keep eye contact with him and moan against his cock; just as equally flustered and sweaty as Tony.
More of your spit trickles down Tony’s cock and sticks to his pubic hair—this time with no chance for Tony to edge himself into another intense orgasm he already knows is coming.
Without warning or showing he’s right about to cum, Tony cums in your mouth—surprising you, but only lets two spurts of cum down your throat before he pulls his cock right out of your mouth. “Fuck, yes!”
“See that?” Gasping out for air and swallowing down the cum in your mouth, Tony yanks your hair downward and lets the next six spurts of his hot cum land all over your face. “Yeah, baby. That’s right… No other man gonna do this to you like me.”
“Mm,” you lick off any cum near your mouth and chin, trying to catch some on your tongue as Tony finishes. “A-anytime, baby.”
“You know what that makes you?” Tony grunts, trailing cum off your cheeks with his thumb and back into your mouth.
“M-mhmm?” You suck on Tony’s thumb, licking off the cum and looking into his eyes.
“Mine,” Tony gives your face a playful slap, smirking. “Mine, baby, mine.”
With that, Tony pulls his finger out of your mouth, licking off your spit from it before roughly cupping your face with both hands and kissing you right down on the mouth.
Tony knows now he’s going to pin you up against the wall next and fuck you until both of you can’t take anymore or the sun begins to rise—whichever one comes first. Your heavily anticipated fuck session with Mr. Montana has yet to come to an end for tonight.
Read on AO3. | Fanfic Masterlist | Fic and Prompt Requests Info.
18+, explicit oneshot.
Death is clipping at Fredo Corleone's heels and there's only one way out of Havana tonight. With chaos ensuing from the rebels and the kiss of death sealing Fredo's fate from Michael, Fredo's heart gives in. Helpless, desperate and terrified of his brother, Michael manipulates his Fredo's good nature into trusting him and leaving Cuba together. Hyman Roth and Johnny Ola are dead, or so Michael has Fredo believe in but Michael has no intention of letting Fredo leave Cuba alive.
[WARNINGS]: Heavy angst / Character death / Strangulation / Fratricide / Hurt with no comfort.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: From one of my favourite, angsty scenes from The Godfather Part II, here comes an AU oneshot I came up with in one sitting tonight with Fredo actually leaving Havana with Michael…💔 I had always wondered what would have happened in Fredo got into that car with Michael, how he would be convinced, what Michael would say and what would come next. 🥺 Playing on emotionally manipulative strings and lies in this AU, I've made Michael seal Fredo's fate differently. This is my first Godfather oneshot/fic that isn't X Reader, romance or smut related!! 🤭💕 I definitely plan to write more as they come amidst updating my multi-chapter fics! Heavy, HEAVY angst in this oneshot with all tags/warnings applying, just a heads up!! 👀🫡
Panic. Mass confusion. Violence answers the questions of the innocent, the confused, and the helpless. Michael’s amongst them, but not one of them.
Aside from the rebels leaving nothing but destruction and the ensuing chaos in their wake around the vicinity, Michael remains to be among the very scattered few who neither fear nor react to the violence surrounding them.
Seemingly coordinated enough on New Year’s Eve, Michael’s more than well aware of the threat the rebels have been posing at all times.
It was enough to see rebels give their own lives in order to take one of the police officers in front of Michael’s eyes to convince him the rebels would take any opportunity to spill blood and fight back even if cornered regardless of the consequences.
Despite the ongoing panic, Michael knows he is in no true danger nor is he a target of the rebels just as he knows the party is over and he has outstayed his welcome as have all the guests at the president’s party.
Michael slipped through the packs of crowds rushing out onto the street and did so without attracting unnecessary attention, but the same couldn’t be said for his brother.
Fredo pushed through anyone and everyone who got in front of him the moment before the onset of the violence began.
Fredo was already running for his life with fear swelling in his heart because of Michael; the truth of his betrayal was never as clever as any lie Fredo could tell Michael or any way Fredo could pretend he didn’t cause an attempted assassination on Michael’s life.
The darkness in Michael’s heart confirmed the death wish he bestowed upon his brother by sealing the kiss of death over Fredo.
Now, no explanation, no apology, and no justification can exist in this world where Michael may exercise mercy or forgiveness over his own brother.
As death itself follows at Fredo’s heels, his only escape is to flee Havana but hiding elsewhere in Cuba will spare his life longer so as long as Fredo doesn’t return to where Michael has eyes and ears in the United States.
With tears stinging his eyes and whimpers of fear escaping his trembling lips, Fredo’s breath quivers as he sprints out of the presidential palace; taking as many twists and turns as he can.
But it’s only a matter of mere moments before the planned attack takes place at the same time; its sole benefit helping Fredo blend in with the rest of the outpouring crowd seconds later.
Michael’s chauffeur never strayed far from the presidential palace; parked just a few meters away from the side of the building with intentions to take Michael and Fredo to the airport to catch their private jet later on this evening.
Standing by the vehicle now, Michael keeps the passenger door open with one hand over its rim as he looks out for any signs of his brother amidst the terrified crowds.
Fredo has no choice but to slow down the steps of the presidential palace when he spots the rioting rebels, seeing no prying eyes over him.
Among dozens of other black and white suits, Fredo is almost impossible to spot—mirroring the same body language as other rushing guests.
The vehicles of the rebels arrived in a circle around the presidential palace, honking incessantly and powering the noise and hollering of its drivers and the other rebels.
Rebels armed with bats and clubs swing at the pillars of the presidential palace and the windows of nearby guest vehicles, only causing further alarm.
Swallowing hard, Fredo stumbles down one of the steps and frantically looks around him to find some route of escape—seeing some guests have already gotten into taxis and nearby vehicles.
“Argh—” Fredo grunts out in surprise as a couple accidentally bumps into him—ramming their shoulders into his back.
Fredo almost trips down the next set of stairs before him, catching his balance before Michael’s eyes land on his brother just across from him in his line of sight now.
“Fredo!” Michael calls out from afar, shrouded in the darkness where he stands away from streetlights or any direction crowds run toward.
Fredo freezes in his tracks, feeling his muscles instantly tense up from nothing but utter horror at the sight of his brother; pure fear triggering Fredo’s fight or flight response.
Fredo’s fear of his own brother has intensified and tripled in a matter of moments back in the presidential palace to the point where Fredo trembles in Michael’s presence and practically feels nauseous being under his brother’s gaze.
Fredo’s eyes widen as his mouth runs dry, eyeing his brother’s body language for immediate resentment and hostility.
“Come on!” Michael gestures out with his hand towards him; only appearing as a concerned brother insistent on helping his brother and escaping together.
Nothing over Michael’s expression or tone of voice resembles the putrid hatred that promised death to Fredo minutes back at the presidential palace.
Refusing, Fredo begins to slowly turn around but keeps his eyes on his brother as his body screams for Fredo to move away.
“It’s the only way out of here tonight,” Michael hollers back, noticing Fredo beginning to pull away. “Roth is dead!”
Naturally, the fate Michael planned and anticipated for Hyman Roth has failed unbeknownst to him but with Fredo’s betrayal stemming from Hyman Roth and Johnny Ola, it appears to be very convincing and tempting.
Still, the fear Fredo feels towards his own brother is all the more overpowering and there’s not a shred of trust nor hope left in Fredo to believe in Michael’s words.
Michael extends out his hand, seeing his words having no effect on his brother. “FREDO!”
Fredo forces himself to keep moving—staggering through the remaining crowd down the steps but with his head still turned towards Michael as if Fredo expects him to follow or lunge after him.
“Fredo, come with me!” Michael raises his voice above the noise of the crowds; seeing his brother is about to run off entirely. “You’re still my brother!”
Fredo’s just begun to rush off again into the crowd but stops at Michael’s words—the most convincing above all, promising they’re still family.
“Fredo!” Michael takes a step further, beginning to move in Fredo’s direction and away from the vehicle. “FREDO!”
Sensing no harm or ill intention from Michael amongst danger and chaos, Fredo’s good nature does not lie to him but coaxes his heart to trust in Michael and escape out of Havana with his brother.
In Michael now, Fredo wants to see his brother’s emotional vulnerability; despite everything, family ties and bonds never break, despite everything, Michael would want no harm to come to Fredo and certainly not here.
“You’re still my brother!”
Fredo turns back around to Michael and swears to himself he can see a pleading look in Michael’s eyes, past the shadows that keep him almost completely concealed.
Tears spring from Fredo’s eyes as he runs toward his brother, unaware he’s accepting his damned fate but giving his trust, love, and belief in safety to Michael.
Michael steps aside to let Fredo into the passenger seat, moving to the other side of the vehicle to get in for himself.
Fredo scurries inside and slams the car door behind him; a pitiful state of worry and exhaustion over him compared to Michael who still remains composed and calm.
Michael does the same, needing to give no signal or word to his chauffeur who immediately begins to drive off in the opposite direction of the presidential palace.
For a moment as Michael’s preoccupied with looking towards the chauffeur and windshield to see what’s ahead of him, neither he nor Fredo say a word to each other nor make eye contact.
Fredo peeks out the window to see hoards of people pushing into the US Embassy and pleading with the guards by the gate for safety; everyone fending for themselves in desperate hopelessness.
Fredo even spots a private jet beginning to take off as others help their family onto nearby boats and ships eager to get off the dock.
As the vehicle continues to move and navigate around the rebels and crowds with ease, Fredo flinches at the sight of the rebels setting nearby garbage cans on fire and rushing into the presidential palace itself.
With all of this occurring in mere seconds as the violence worsens and fires spread to smashed-in vehicles and broken goods from inside the presidential palace, Michael’s eyes land on his brother inside the car once again.
Fredo catches Michael’s gaze, looking as pale as a ghost with worry crossing his eyes as the vehicle now begins to slow through crowds clamoring at every angle.
Michael’s chauffeur keeps his composure, honking again and again as he continues to drive.
Michael knits his brows, gazing out both windows and somewhat concerned himself not about the damage the rebels continue to do, but what can come from the panicking and desperate mobs of people surrounding the car.
“O-Oh my God,” Fredo shudders as the vehicle finally begins to pick up its speed and separate from the crowds.
In a split second, Michael makes eye contact with the chauffeur through the rearview mirror, signaling a change in the destination; one out of sight with no one to hear anyone’s helpless screams.
Fredo doesn’t notice, nervously sitting next to Michael and looking down to see his fingers trembling uncontrollably in his lap just from Michael’s presence.
“We’re almost out,” Michael finally speaks; his voice calm and soothing enough for Fredo to believe it.
Fredo keeps his eyes on the road, refusing to relax and snap out of his alarmed state until the car drives much further down the road and Fredo’s unable to hear the rebellion behind him.
“The plane—” Fredo stammers, swallowing. “Are we getting out of here?”
“We are,” Michael reaffirms as the chauffeur takes a different turn to drive upon the side of the road where Fredo’s door faces the ocean. “Fredo—” Michael looks at his brother, “it’s fine. It’s over now.”
Fredo gives a glum nod, attempting to relax in his seat. “I don’t know what to say, Mikey. I…”
Fredo’s voice trails off as the car comes to a slow halt by the ocean; the chauffeur avoids looking towards the rearview mirror or making eye contact with either Michael or Fredo.
“I d-don’t…” Fredo’s voice cracks as he attempts to speak again, looking helplessly at his brother.
Michael faces Fredo whose almost too emotional to even realize the car has stopped on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.
“Mikey,” Fredo breathes out—his throat tightening as hot tears stream down his cheeks. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—”
“Fredo,” Michael turns his body towards his brother, watching Fredo weep softly and break down in front of him.
“You have to u-understand, Mikey,” Fredo pleads—emotion straining in his voice, “I w-was caught in the middle. I didn’t agree—I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t know it would end up like this—I didn’t know it was gonna be a hit or anything.”
As Michael stares into his brother’s eyes, his grow colder and Fredo’s words ring out to him with no meaning, no justification nor anything worth believing for the man in front of Michael is no longer his brother but a betrayer, a traitor and a stranger bearing the same last name.
Michael gives a small nod to Fredo as if he’s understanding of it all and figured as much for himself, but the chauffeur hits a small button over his door which immediately causes all of the doors to lock.
“Michael—” Fredo croaks, flinching from fear and looking towards his passenger door in alarm.
“Fredo, look at me. Look at me.” Michael detracts Fredo’s attention from reaching out to attempt to open his passenger door—facing his brother directly again. “Listen to me.”
“I d-don’t want anything to happen to you, Mikey,” Fredo blubbers, sobbing.
“Look at me,” Michael cups his brother’s face with both hands, feeling Fredo’s warm tears against his palm. “I know. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Never, ever,” Fredo gives his head a little shake, clutching onto the fabric of Michael’s trousers with a shaky hand. “Y-you’re my brother, my brother—”
“I know,” Michael repeats again, eerily calm compared to Fredo’s distraught state on the verge of a complete mental breakdown.
“I c-could never live it down,” Fredo hiccups, his knuckles turning white from how hard he grips Michael’s trousers.
“And you don’t have to,” Michael replies, wiping a stray tear away from Fredo’s cheek.
“I’m s-scared, Mikey, when you look at me like that—”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Fredo,” Michael lies, “you know that. Wouldn’t I leave you to your fate there if that’s what I wanted?”
“Y-yeah, I guess—” Fredo smiles weakly at Michael, comforted by his brother’s lies. “I love you, Mikey. I j-just want you to know that.”
Shallow, empty words with no meaning that register nothing to Michael. He chooses to ignore them, unshaken by what’s to come next.
“I know,” Michael kisses Fredo’s forehead, slowly moving his hands down to Fredo’s neck.
Fredo’s eyes snap open in terror as Michael wraps his hands around his throat firmly just moments after. “Mikey—"
“Goodbye, Fredo,” Michael immediately begins to exhort force over Fredo’s throat—crushing his esophagus.
Fredo wheezes and whimpers, but can get barely anything other than a whine out. He attempts to thrash out at Michael with his hands but Michael tilts his body back while pinning Fredo onto the car seat to avoid his grip.
Kicking at Michael in the twisted position his body is in doesn’t help nor does kicking at the chauffeur’s car seat who gazes out the window to watch the waves of the sea; completely ignoring the murder ongoing in the back seat.
Fredo’s lungs burn, begging for air as Michael squeezes and applies as much pressure and might as he can with his hands to Fredo’s throat—watching Fredo’s helpless movements slowly coming to a stop.
Wide-eyed and terrified as the life and strength choke out of him, Fredo stares at Michael who remains to be much more physically strong and fit than his brother.
The cold, lifeless expression on Michael’s face doesn’t change throughout as the color drains out of Fredo’s face as Michael continues to strangle him; his grip far too overbearing and tight to squirm out of.
Just a few moments in of helplessly trying to pry Michael’s fingers off his throat, Fredo feels his life slipping away and falls unconscious seconds after.
Michael doesn’t stop there. To ensure his brother’s death once and for all in front of his own eyes, he clutches Fredo’s head in his hands and with one sharp swerve of his hands and arms, snaps his brother's neck.
A sickening crack can be heard out before Michael lets go of Fredo’s lifeless body plopping back down onto the car seat.
Michael breathes in deeply, staring at the corpse of his brother next to him with no reaction; only the relief he’s felt and continues to feel upon having his enemies assassinated.
Not a shred of remorse, guilt, or regret clouds Michael’s judgment or chokes his thoughts.
Michael reaches towards Fredo’s passenger door as the chauffeur unlocks it without looking back; nothing goes through Michael’s mind as he pushes open the door to kick his brother’s corpse out.
Fredo’s body tumbles out of the vehicle and off the ledge leading straight into the ocean on this side of the road.
From the sound of loud traffic afar and waves crashing upon the shore, Michael doesn’t hear Fredo’s body drop into the water nor does he bother to watch it sink.
Instead, Michael sits back in the vehicle and shuts the door as his chauffeur begins driving again, pretending as if nothing happened.
In the chauffeur’s best interest, nothing did happen and he only picked up Michael from the presidential palace. The chauffeur never saw Fredo or even heard that name; the chauffeur isn’t even aware Mr. Corleone had a brother.
“To the airport, Mr. Corleone?” The chauffeur spoke for the first time since Michael got into the vehicle.
“Yes,” Michael confirms, “I have a private flight to catch to Lake Tahoe.”
“You sure as hell weren’t looking out for me when you called the police to investigate and interrogate me!” / “Your girlfriend’s carrying.”
Your cycle of addiction relies on nothing but the change neither you nor Bobby can commit to. From worries of another panic to the danger Bobby carries as Santo's best supplier, your words of worry and warning have turned to hypocrisy. Sykes is onto you and to avoid blackmail and potentially losing your job, you find yourself dealing to him against your own wishes. Creating a rift of distrust from lies between Bobby and you, Bobby is now under the impression you're cheating on him.
[WARNINGS]: Mentions & depictions of drug addiction and use / Rough smut / Sex while high / Drug dealing.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Back to Emily and Bobby's story! 🥺 At this point I can say we're more than halfway into the fic's storyline but focused on where Bobby and Emily's relationships will go from the choices and lies they make. The calm before the storm is finally over. 😔💔
Bobby’s release from prison marks the end of his and Helen’s relationship and you find yourself spending more time with Bobby and taking care of him after everything he’s been through. Working and living in Manhattan as a college drop-out, you distance yourself from Helen who Bobby and you take solace with one another in hopes to get out of the toxic lifestyle of drug use—promising each other to start a new life with one another and get clean. Falling in love with Bobby, you experience a mutual, passionate and loving relationship with its own highs and lows that promises to bloom into something more serious but also can threaten to collapse. As Bobby’s new girlfriend, your relationship hangs on a thread with old skeletons coming back into Bobby’s life, relapses, and a new panic on the horizon that threatens to undo it all.
‘I will never change.’ You tell yourself, slouching on the couch next to Bobby and trailing your fingertips over the bruising needle marks upon your wrist.
‘And neither will Bobby.’ Completely slumped on the couch from a heavy and lingering high, Bobby keeps his head low and eyes half open—riding the sensation of drowsy numbness the heroin provides him.
Once again you find yourself in the middle of a repeating cycle you cannot change. Bobby and you always come upon the conversation of changing, but nothing works—remaining the same way out of desperation.
‘Nothing happens every single time.’ It might as well be wasted potential from the beginning—just like what many consider Bobby to be. You still can’t wrap your head around how you got to this point—how Bobby got to this point.
Whatever happened to Bobby being clean from here on out after his release from prison? Bobby promised not only you but himself that he would neither use nor deal but now both of you are embroiled in both so what does that say about your actions and words?
If Bobby continues to destroy his health and body from the inside out, the doctor’s visit you took him to would even be considered a waste. When has Bobby ever cared though?
Then again, you didn’t stop Bobby. You didn’t stop him from using or dealing again you’re used to succumbing to peer pressure in a relationship with the worst influence of all time.
There’s no excuse for what you do and choose to do because you can’t blame Bobby for everything.
All you and Bobby can claim now are that you both don’t care anymore. All that talk about moving out of Needle Park may just be a sober person’s fantasy or junkie’s joke.
All you know is your addiction to substances and for Bobby and the only thing that’s true to you is how much you love him.
Perhaps you and Bobby simply have nothing to lose except one another, both in a sense of love and life.
The truth is that you and Bobby are both addicted to heroin and using cocaine or marijuana to handle it is just another form of denial.
Amidst your drug use, Bobby is the one and only person you look forward to seeing when you get home when you awaken, and who you go to bed with. You have nothing but Bobby and it’s the same for Bobby—all he has is you.
Other than dealing and supplying the “goods” to his friend group and around the street to every desperate junkie who can afford it, Bobby has nothing else to look forward to except getting home to you and getting high.
All Bobby’s doing to keep himself happy is making a quick buck on the streets for himself and for Santo, because outside of the harrowing world he’s stepped into, you’re all Bobby knows it.
Here you both are two days later, having shared a needle together and shot up more junk through your veins.
Neither of you is consciously aware of whether you’re taking the “real dynamite” shit to get high and stay high, or if it's solely to avoid the drowsy, nauseating feeling of coming down.
Where Santo’s keeping his stock of heroin, he’s doing the same for cocaine and marijuana which you and Bobby help yourselves to plenty—lacing it together whenever you can.
You both have had your sex drives skyrocket whereas many other addicts and some in your friend group have little to a non-existent libido, even suffering from erectile dysfunction.
Practically fucking like rabbits against the kitchen counter, cowgirl over the diner table, Bobby pinning you up against the bathroom wall, and fucking your ass all rough, sloppy, and needy has become an addiction of its own kind too.
You both don’t stop until physical exhaustion racks over you both, cumming and going at it again and again.
The orgasms are heavenly and euphoric, intensified and feel as good as the first, sometimes motivating the two of you to get high just to feel it that way.
If you aren’t using or at work, then you’re fucking and doing nothing else. It may even be considered disruptive to your life, forgetting about everything and anything so long as Bobby’s inside you.
“Fuck, fuck,” Bobby hissed between gritted teeth, gripping your hips and pounding your pussy from behind in doggy style over the coffee table.
“B-Bobby, Bobby! Uh!” Your voice trembled with every word as you clutched onto the end of the coffee table with all your strength.
“The fuck?” Bobby grunted, hearing the doorbell ring in the middle of fucking you good.
“The d-delivery guy—” You whimpered against the coffee table, almost having completely forgotten you two ordered pizza.
“Got it—I got it,” out of breath, Bobby pulled out of you suddenly and caused you to squeal; your pussy oozing out his last load of cum.
Ass naked with no time to grab anything on, Bobby grabbed the wad of cash over the kitchen counter you both set out for the pizza before he got to the front door; his cock still covered in his and your cum.
Only having opened the door enough to take the pizza box, Bobby throws the cash at the delivery guy and snatches the pizza out of his hands before Bobby slammed the door in his face.
You giggled at the sight and watched as Bobby scrambled to set the pizza down on the kitchen counter without spreading it, only to turn his head and see you spread open your pussy with your fingers as an invitation—showing Bobby your stretched little hole.
Back to fucking you ruthlessly and wasting no further time, you let out a screaming moan that the pizza delivery guy heard as he was making his way out of the apartment; signaling Bobby back inside of you for another round you lost count of.
If it isn’t fucking you or shooting up with you, Bobby continuously thinks of how lucky he has to have a girl like you keeping a roof over his head and loving him unconditionally.
Bobby bounces from your apartment to Santo’s hideout if he isn’t dealing but waiting for the next stash and keeping an eye on those who work for Santo and watching the stash he’ll soon deal out be made before his eyes.
Old business cards, playing cards, and anything with a sleek edge that’s all the same around are used to file the powder down to a perfect amount like an artisan mastering his craft.
Everyone’s hands move quickly like clockwork as if they’re doing any other daily routine, working fast.
Santo’s never replaced those working for him in his inner group—distrustful of outsiders and prefers to keep what most may call ‘normal people’ working under him instead.
Those who prepare, create and package the packs of heroin have no addictions themselves or anyone that they know of. They’re regular, ordinary people who raise no suspicion and go along with it; doing what they need to do to earn their pay.
Santo pays far too much with a promise for anyone to want to leave and that’s certainly the reality of Bobby and the money he makes from Santo now too.
When you lose a steady resource like that, you’re back to being a desperate junkie on the streets willing to beg at a supplier’s feet or something—anything—just to shoot up again.
You either find some means to support yourself or you lose it all, going to jail or in rehab. Either way, you get clean and you’re still unemployed but then the cycle begins anew.
Untouchable because of his trustworthy contacts, if Hotch came to arresting Santo or exposing him, a panic twice as bad as the last one would hit and remove a massive supply off the streets within a week.
It would be ruin for Bobby and you know that means it would be ruin for you too.
But for as long as Bobby’s Santo’s main supplier in the streets of Upper West Side Manhattan, Bobby and you would never run out for yourselves and be the first to know of potential panic.
Now finding success in being a hotshot drug dealer, Bobby has no need or reason to think of having a future outside of what he’s done—letting drugs eat away at all of it.
Breaking the law, dealing and smuggling is like second nature now to Bobby and he’s not even aware of it.
Deep down but unfelt, there’s guilt inside Bobby’s heart for getting you involved in this mess and having to deal with him too, but as long as Bobby isn’t actively thinking about it, he doesn’t let the guilt get to him or influence him.
After all, it’s the same guilt Bobby felt when he looked to his side and noticed that he ended up getting Helen just as addicted as himself too.
The sight of a syringe filled up with junk should remind Bobby of his upbringing and how it’s destroyed his life two times over, Bobby remembers money instead.
Bobby’s mind is only on the here and now; what he’s going to do, where he’s going to deal with and who he’s going to deal with, and nothing else.
Crime and drugs were already all that Bobby knew in his upbringing as a child, growing up on these streets. Nothing has changed.
Bobby still can’t bring himself to hate Needle Park despite everything it's done to him and everyone else in it too, but it’s Bobby’s home and all he knows, and he has to love his home in a way.
Subconsciously thinking it, this life is the only life for Bobby and it’ll maybe it’ll just have to be the only life for you too.
The only life you knew before Bobby was work and home—nothing else. You’re tipping and harboring over addiction only because you’re not in the position to constantly get high or quite literally be a full-time addict.
You can call it chipping all you want, but even you feel how your body begins to demand more substance to hold onto addiction while narrowly escaping it.
You’d rather snort a few lines of cocaine off a table and light up a joint every now and then to calm your nerves but nothing feels the same—nothing works the same. You can’t get out of the buzzing mindset gnawing and eating away at you and your body can’t cope without your fix of poison.
You no longer have a choice.
~
Your shift at work today is accompanied by gazes and stares Sykes doesn’t even intend on making discreet whether you’re shifting in your seat at your desk, standing up to go to the bathroom or even looking up from your dress—you always find Sykes’ eyes over yours.
Without explicitly having the conversation with you, Sykes would like you to know he didn’t say a word to Hotch nor did anyone come around to follow up.
You’ve come to notice Sykes isn’t loud mouthing or walking around the office like he owns the place, as usual, today, assuming he’s still relatively stunned by the nature of Hotch’s visit.
Nobody else in the office knows or suspects anything.
Wanting to forget about the whole ordeal and never bring it up again, you’re constantly reminded of it every time your eyes meet with Sykes’ and only continue to feel uneasy because you’re still being watched by him as you work.
You’ve already figured the less you look up from your desk and specifically near Sykes’ direction, the more Sykes will hopefully get the point that you’re actually working and tired of this staring game.
Working as you normally would and finishing your tasks for the day, you refuse to check the time as often as you would even though you’re dying to get out of work simply for the sake of not rousing Sykes’ suspicion.
Just a few minutes before it’s time to clock out, you get up from your desk once more and head towards the women’s washroom in no rush.
You use the bathroom as slowly as you can, dragging all of your movements out as if you have all the time in the world or you’re in the comfort of your own home.
You’re more than certain Sykes has seen you enter but if you step out of the bathroom any second now and bump into him, you have all the right to accuse Sykes of stalking you which is exactly what you’re hoping for.
Washing and drying your hands slowly, you take your time by even splashing some cold water over your face, fixing your hair, and smoothening out your outfit.
Sykes still remains in his office, but his eyes are fixated on the door of the women’s bathroom and he refuses to move a muscle, knowing your presence in his office is going to be inevitable when you do come out since you have to clock out there.
From the moment you step out of the bathroom and come to notice neither Sykes nor any other one of your coworkers are around the washroom, you sigh quietly to yourself in relief.
Sykes remains preoccupied with signing paperwork at his desk when you begin to walk out, and you can’t help but feel a little less on edge when you know his attention is no longer on you.
Keeping quiet and to yourself, you make your way to Sykes’ office to clock out for the day and expect him to look up, move or even say something but he continues to ignore you despite being aware of your presence.
‘Okay, whatever.’ You punch out your time card before returning back to your desk to grab your coat and purse.
Ignoring Sykes and finally ending your work day, you sling your purse over your shoulder and begin to head out to the hallway to get to the elevator.
You’re completely unaware that Sykes has been watching your every movement since you turned your back from him and quietly began to follow you from behind.
Only at the very last minute before you’re about to reach your hand out to press the elevator button do you hear footsteps coming directly behind you, followed by Sykes’ grabbing your arm.
You gasp out in surprise, attempting to jerk away but Sykes’ grip harshens as he pulls you to him by force. “Say something.”
“What?” You stammer, attempting to pull your arm back again, “what are you—let go of me! Were you following me?!”
“Lower your fucking voice,” Sykes hisses, releasing your arm—somewhat embarrassed to be called out so loudly. “I was looking out for you.”
“Looking out for me?” You scoff, scowling. “You sure as hell weren’t looking out for me when you called the police to investigate and interrogate me!”
“You think I did that?” Sykes grabs at your wrist, this time pulling you over into a private corner of the hallway. “Keep your goddamn voice down! What—do you want the whole office to know?”
“Seriously?” You lower your tone of voice, shaking his grip off your wrist. “You honestly expect me to think you had nothing to do with that police visit?”
“Did I look like a smug son of a bitch back there with all those cops swarming around my desk?” Sykes points to his chest, speaking through gritted teeth. “They’re not your normal patrol cops either—they’re narcos, Emily, and because of that lowlife you’re dating and whatever other scum out there you’re connected to, the narcos think you’re shooting, snorting, selling—whatever. They questioned me too.”
“Probably because you’re my boss,” you glare back at Sykes at the mention of Bobby being a ‘lowlife’. “That sounds pretty normal to me—questioning the employee’s boss.”
“Not like you think,” Sykes rolls his eyes. “They didn’t question anyone else. You’d think the cops and a man like Hotchner would be interested to see if anyone else is snorting or shooting up before or at work.”
“So they know then,” you cross your arms.
“No, not yet and they won’t,” Sykes stares at you with concern growing in his eyes, “that’s the point I’m trying to get across. The cops found nothing here and left bored and unhappy. They won’t be back.”
“None of us know that for sure,” you mumble, “they’re narcos after all like you said.”
“I do, trust me,” Sykes shakes his head, “just don’t bring that boyfriend of yours over here and we won’t have any further problems. Start looking like you use less and take care of yourself more too. I know you have the stuff, Emily,” Sykes raises his brows at you, “you and your boyfriend both do.”
“What? What stuff?” You sneer at him, “you’re accusing me of something even the police didn’t find?”
“Oh fuck the police,” Hotch glowers, “and fuck the narcos—you listen to me very carefully right now. I know you’re gonna sit here and tell me all day you don’t have a fleck of powder on your nose nor have you ever used and all that kind of bullshit, but I can easily prove otherwise to Hotch. You know how many times I’ve watched you just nod off at work?”
“You’re blackmailing me,” your eyes begin to sting with tears, “and for what? Huh? What the fuck have I ever done to you?”
“Nothing!” Hotch raises his voice before immediately lowering it again, “you’re not as innocent as they think you are and you know that. I’m not that much of a saint either, so if you don’t want me to use that shit against you, then don’t use anything against me!”
“What do you want, Sykes?” You spit out, speaking plainly.
“I want something,” he answers, almost whispering. “Sell me the best shit you have—you or your boyfriend, I don’t care but have it on you here and we’ll make the transaction face to face.”
“Ha! No fucking way,” you laugh, stepping away from Sykes. “So you can call Hotch here when I come carrying something? Nice idea, but it’s not gonna work.”
“Everyone in this office is carrying something, Emily,” Sykes mutters under his breath, looking at you with all seriousness. “At least one gram of cocaine at all fucking times in each cubicle. Now you see why I was shitting myself when the narcos got here? They search you, they search me, they search all of us. We’re fucked, then this office goes to shit and we all lose our jobs. You may be inclined to think I’ll jeopardize your job, but the same can happen to me and everyone else.”
“So you want smack,” you point out, looking unimpressed by his “everyone’s corrupt” speech. “That’s why you bothered me? You talk shit about my boyfriend and now you want him to sell you something? God, you sure have sunk real low.”
“Shut up,” Sykes scowls at you, “before I change my mind. Are you gonna get the shit or not?”
“Yeah, I will,” you glare at him, “I’ll get it for you tonight and we’ll meet here at eight PM sharp or I’m calling it off. Best believe I’m ratting on everyone in this office if you bring Hotch or any other fucking narco here.”
“Alright, cut the shit—what else?” Sykes huffs.
“Whatever I’m selling you, it’s gonna be twice as expensive,” you add, “I don’t care. There’s a risk coming here let alone carrying on the street when Hotch is out there itching to arrest someone.”
“Fine, whatever,” Sykes rubs his temples gingerly, sighing deeply. “Name your price then, but I want the shit to last me a good two weeks.”
“Yeah, I can get it for you,” you assure him, glancing around the hallway to make sure nobody’s listening or standing nearby, “now let me leave before people suspect something. Don’t act suspicious or do any stupid shit when I get here—be here at eight PM sharp or you won’t see a gram.”
“Fine, I will,” Sykes backs away from you, “just honor your end of the bargain. I’ll be here.”
~
Coming home from work today, you’re surprised to see Bobby straight for once without being under the influence of anything but you can’t say the same for your unexpected guest—Hank—clearly nodding off on something strong.
Now that Helen’s in jail, you can expect to see Hank around a lot more often and particularly in your apartment too.
Smoking a cigarette and distracted by an action film playing on the television, Bobby has his back slouching against the couch next to Hank who keeps his head low and barely moves a muscle—mumbling incoherently to himself from the heavy high.
You sit by the window length just across from the two, smoking as well to clear your mind and noting Hank’s state is unusually heavy coming from the guy who's the only person you actually know that can “chip” without using. You’ve never seen Hank this slumped before.
Then again, Hank’s using the same smack you and Bobby are using and dealing—Santo’s new stash isn’t nicknamed “dynamite” for no good reason; keeping people in longer, deeper, and intense highs with an increased overdose risk but also the benefit of being straight longer too.
The punch of a high the “dynamite” smack delivers also causes a junkie to feel less sick all the time while craving it more than they would any regular dope.
But by now the three of you have done nothing but lay around watching a nonsensical film while Hank can barely keep his eyes open, let alone sleep.
Bobby’s been in no mood for conversation and fixated on the film, popping open a can of coke and he’s come to notice how many times you’ve checked your watch—simply thinking you’re bored or waiting for the film to end.
At seven forty-five PM, you check your watch once more but catch Bobby’s eyes over yours, making it apparent he’s noticing.
You sigh to yourself, attempting to act inconspicuously and play it off as nothing but simple boredom.
You’ve already taken a bit of Bobby’s stash when you got up to use the bathroom earlier and have no intention of telling him you’re going to sell it to someone—let alone your own boss.
‘It won’t matter anyway,’ you think to yourself, so as long as Bobby doesn’t find out, of course.
Bobby’s stash has more than both of you could possibly want, crave and need, easily pushing onto overdose territory should both of you wish to keep it to yourselves instead of also selling from it.
After all, any money you make today from Sykes goes to both of you, so you have no intention of cheating Bobby with your earnings.
“I’m gonna go,” you smoothen out your shirt, hopping off the windowsill.
“Go?” Bobby glances up at you.
“Yeah,” your eyes wander over to Hank, still in no changed shape. “I’m bored. We’ve been sitting here doing nothing with Hank barely still alive over here. I’m gonna head out to the store and grab a few things.”
“Not gonna wait for me?” Bobby puts his cigarette back in his mouth.
“I’m just going to the store, Bobby,” you shrug your shoulders, “stay with Hank before he has a seizure or something.”
“You’d think a grown-ass man this used to it would know how to use a proper dose by now,” Bobby shakes his head, looking at Hank.
“He is your brother after all,” you pick up your purse and sling it over your shoulder. “He’s gonna definitely owe you one after tonight.”
“I’ll hold it against him,” Bobby blows out smoke around him, watching you exit the suite.
You purposefully didn’t stay a minute longer back in the suite so as not to raise Bobby’s curiosity or suspicion any further than you may already have—but Bobby’s been wary of you since he caught you repeatedly checking your watch.
You and Sykes have essentially promised one another that this deal is gonna stay between the two of you and you’re not going to get Bobby involved until you have to.
If you can set a good impression on Sykes for this deal and ensure you won’t get arrested or walk into a trap of some kind, you know Sykes will be the exact kind of customer coming for more again and again with cash in his pocket.
Even if you do get caught or ratted out in some way, you’d give yourself in without opening your mouth and so much as mentioning Bobby’s name or anyone else despite doing this deal behind Bobby’s back.
You get out on the street and begin to walk down the same streetway you always do as if you’re on your way to work only once you begin to approach your work building, you take a left turn around the side of the building and head inside from the entrance there.
The side entrance leads up to the same hallway to get to your office and the security guard on duty makes his rounds outside, smoking a cigarette.
You sigh to yourself in relief once you’re inside, pulling back stray strands of your hair behind your ear but being unable to help thinking if Bobby’s actually questioning your absence.
You’re exactly one minute early by the time you reach the same spot in the hallway you were in with Sykes earlier, only he’s already there with his arms crossed and back leaning against the wall—having arrived ten minutes early in advance.
Sykes’ eyes light up when he sees you approaching. “See? A deal’s a deal.”
“The bare minimum is showing up,” you cautiously eye the hallway before approaching Sykes. “And you’re sure nobody followed you or knows that you’re here?”
“Yeah, believe me, I got here earlier to make sure. The faster you give me this shit, the faster we can both get the fuck out of here and raise less suspicion,” Sykes pulls his leather wallet out from his trousers’ back pocket.
“Relax, otherwise you’ll get caught just by looking as nervous as you are. You don’t know how these things work,” you roll your eyes, opening up your purse. “I got what you wanted and the amount you needed. You said you needed it to last two weeks, right? If you use more than that in less than two weeks, I’m not attending your funeral.”
“You know, even outside of work you still have to respect me,” Sykes frowns, opening his wallet.
“Whatever. Now, you got the money? I told you this shit is gonna cost double,” you clutch onto the small bag of powder in your palm.
“How much?” Sykes takes a wad of cash out of his wallet.
“Eighty dollars,” you offer, keeping true to the street value but adding more on edge for extra profit. “Take it or leave it.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Sykes mutters under his breath, “here”. He hands you the cash in twenty-dollar bills.
You quickly take the cash with one hand and exchange it with the bag of powder from your purse.
Sykes is quick to immediately shove the powder inside the inner pocket of his suit, smoothening out his jacket.
“If you’re gonna make it a habit, you know where to find me,” you carefully tuck the cash into your purse.
“At least now we both know what we can offer one another,” Sykes scoffs, “but you have merit.”
~
Five minutes after you left the suite, Bobby followed right behind you—leaving Hank to himself back inside.
Bobby may have been inclined to believe you were actually walking to the convenience store around the corner like you said since you took no shortcuts and simply walked straight down the street but had you actually been going to the convenience store, you would have bumped into Bobby right outside the apartment lobby.
Bobby figured you were lying from the guilty look in your eyes and odd body language, let alone constantly checking your watch as if you were impatiently waiting for something or late to arrive somewhere.
You made it all the easier for Bobby to follow you because you never bothered to look back nor changed from one sidewalk to another.
Bobby kept an appropriate distance from you but slipped into an alleyway and crossed the street a few times while following to avoid you potentially seeing or hearing him.
Knowing Upper West Side Manhattan like the back of his hand, tracking you down without getting too close or staying back too far was too simple for Bobby.
Bobby would have made it the entire way had he not gotten packed into an oncoming crowd of pedestrians crossing the street—beginning to lose sight of you.
As Bobby attempted to push through the crowd and maintain a close, yet safe distance from you at the same time, he lost track of you nonetheless.
When the crowd began to fully disperse around Bobby, giving him the opportunity to pick up his pace and make it across the street, he felt a rough hand grab him and pull him back over to the sidewalk.
“You again,” Bobby rolled his eyes, playing it off cool. “Can’t get enough of me anywhere, can you? What are ya gonna do? Arrest me for crossing the street today?”
“Not doing anything,” Hotch replies casually, chewing bubblegum. “Just wanna have a little chat, maybe ask why you’re stalking your own girlfriend.”
“Stalking my girlfriend?” Bobby grins, noticing Hotch’s car parked to the side of the street; making it all the more apparent that he’s been there the entire time—watching and waiting. “Do you hear yourself, man? That’s my girlfriend. I’m just going with her.”
“No, you ain’t,” Hotch stares back at Bobby, unamused. “I’m not stupid, Bobby. I wasn’t born yesterday. You don’t think I know what game both of you are playing right now?”
“The fuck are you talking about, man?” Bobby shifts his weight to the other foot, beginning to grow agitated. “Listen, you can go ahead and ask all your stupid questions but either do it properly and take me down to the police station or get the fuck out of my way.”
“I’ll get out of your way as soon as you stop playing dumb with me,” Hotch asserts, “your girlfriend’s carrying.”
“What?” Bobby glares at Hotch angrily. “She’s carrying? Huh? You can accuse her of that just by seeing her walking?”
“Maybe I can,” Hotch crosses his arms. “But it’s a dead giveaway to me. She’s clutching a specific part of her purse awful tight, looking dead straight ahead and walking. She has someplace to be and she’s carrying something with her.”
“Yeah?” Bobby snorts, holding back his laughter. “You actually believe that? Then what are you telling me for? I call bullshit. You’d go and arrest Emily or harass her as you do to me if you weren’t fuckin’ lying.”
“Unless I see an actual crime committed, I don’t have to do a thing,” Hotch replies. “I know what I can and can’t do Bobby, and so do you.”
“Great, another mommy and daddy lecture,” Bobby sighs loudly, looking around the street. “Can I go back to minding my own business now?”
“You still don’t believe me?” Hotch raises his brows, “that’s fine…” Hotch squints his eyes, looking towards the crowd. “I bet she’s carrying almost a hundred dollars worth of that junk. Looking far too uneasy for it to be cheap and worthless. No, there’s definitely a risk here.”
“Who would she even sell it to?” Bobby narrows his eyes, “you know who she is. She ain’t no dealer, man. Stop bullshitting. She works at Way Enterprises.”
“Everyone who works at Way Enterprises is an addict, Bobby,” Hotch doesn’t appear impressed whatsoever. “She’s selling to someone at work and you know it’s a matter of time until I catch her and the same goes for you. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time now would it?”
“Fuck you,” Bobby spat by Hotch’s feet and took off back down the street and towards Way Enterprises without another look or word back.
Hotch sighed deeply and remained behind and refusing to stop Bobby nor try to reason with him any further. Hotch has seen this play out a hundred times before in front of his very eyes before already.
By the time Bobby actually reaches Way Enterprises’ building, you’ve already sold Sykes’ piece to him and taken your money.
Unbeknownst to Bobby, he crouched behind a trashcan in the back alleyway connecting to your work building—watching and waiting for you.
When Bobby saw you step out the side entrance and not the front or back exit, he was quick to jump toward the back end to avoid you catching sight of him.
All Bobby could see was how nervous you appeared around Sykes, especially from how the two of you looked at each other; eager to get away and make it look like the two of you were never seen together.
But it was Bobby who also saw Sykes zipping up his fly next to you, telling Bobby everything he needs to know about your little meetup with Sykes behind Bobby’s back, laced with lies.
Bobby’s eyes deadened and drained of all emotion. To him, it looked like nothing more than a sneaky meetup for sex—a hookup of some kind either in exchange for smack, money, or some sort of sick affair you were having with your boss despite your protests and complaints about his nasty behavior and harassment towards you.
You either sucked Sykes off or fucked him; the only reason why you’d lie to Bobby in the first place.
Bobby trusts you with everything and anything. If you were actually dealing something with Sykes, Bobby would expect you to tell him. After all, both of you stand to gain from it and Bobby would take no issue with it, but you never believed that when it came to dealing with someone like Sykes.
Bobby swallowed hard and began to move out of the alleyway, feeling numbness tingle in his limps from the realization of everything.
He rakes a frustrated hand through his shaggy hair, letting out a shaky breath as Bobby’s emotions get the better of him—all piling up at once and surging a rush of jealousy and bitterness in his veins.
All Bobby can remember is the last expression on Sykes’ face before the two of you parted ways on the street—a look of nothing but pure satisfaction.
Ensnared [Carlito Brigante x Reader, 18+ Smut] Oneshot.
Read on AO3. | Fanfic Masterlist | Fic and Prompt Requests Info.
18+, explicit smut oneshot.
“And whose cock is in my mouth right now? Don’t tell me you’re jealous." / “. I wouldn’t show you my face if I wasn’t a changed man ready, to tell the truth.”
Five years has passed since your fiancé Carlito was imprisoned, leaving your engagement hanging onto fate and your heartache. Fighting between what you love and know, feeling lied to and betrayed from Carlito as your heart yearns for him, you refuse to take off the very engagement ring he gave you as a sign of commitment. In bitter attempts to move on, its unbeknownst to you that Carlito's been released with only one priority in mind–finding you and convincing his fiancée that Carlito's a changed man and wants nothing but the future he promised to you before. While Gail seeking out Carlito's company too, you find yourself in a shocking position to suddenly see your fiancé once again and deny everything until Carlito ensnares you all over again with the truth and closure your heart begged for.
[WARNINGS]: Mentions of prison/jail time / Mentions of drug dealing / Alcohol consumption / Heavy smut / Rough sex / Oral sex / Blowjob / Touching & foreplay / Dirty talking / Fingering / Orgasm control / Spit kink.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The Carlito Brigante x Reader smut fic we've all been waiting for is finally here!! 😩🙏🏻 Better late than never. 😅 My very first Carlito fic would be incomplete without angst + comfort, intimate fluff and much needed rough, sloppy sex. 🥵🥵 Carlito's more than eager to finally be with you after five years apart and won't relent to show you badly he wants you either. Our reader's name in this fic is Evelyn Whittaker and you'll see how you/she has felt for Carlito over the years and that it'll take a lot more than promises to mend a broken heart, but truth and closure. ❤
[ April 1993 ]
‘Friday…’ You let out a soft sigh, resting your chin over the palm of your hand as you sit at your favorite window side spot at your local café, wondering to yourself how many more times you can aimlessly stir your steaming cappuccino before letting your mind wander off even farther.
Ordering the same coffee, drinking from the same style cups, and sitting at the same table for the past six years at your café makes you realize you’re more of a creature of habit than you admit.
A lot of your own favorite things and places were also favorites of Carlito’s—just another reason why you enjoy them as much as he did.
The very café you sit at alone as the rest of the afternoon dwindles by is the very same one you and Carlito had your first date in back in 1986—seven years ago now.
Back then you’d laugh at the idea of coming here alone without Carlito’s presence, especially after the two of you memorized each other’s favorite orders; Carlito always knew you loved a classic cappuccino, and you knew his order would always be a black Americano.
In the same café at the same seat where you and Carlito laughed, joked, and had two hour-long conversations with richly delicious coffee and various sweet treats passing your lips, you were now alone, single, and had been for the past five years since Carlito was imprisoned.
Five years ago you were giddy, planning out your dream wedding day with the man you claim to be the love of your life to now sitting glumly by the window wondering when your heart will stop searching for Carlito in places you know he’ll never be in.
The initial fresh sting and pain of heartache aren’t there anymore and life has found other ways to preoccupy and distract you, but your mind’s never failed to wander and hurt you just by thinking of everything you and Carlito had from beginning to end if you didn’t make an active effort to stop thinking about it all the time.
The first two years were without a doubt absolutely unbearable; you’d barely be able to use your napkin for anything else except let it completely soak through with your tears, crying in public and always leaving your cappuccino half finished.
The pain’s never left you entirely, but there’s a familiar numbness that’s gotten you used to everything—you didn’t have a choice about that. You’d feel every ache in your heart whether you wanted to or not.
You gaze down at the engagement ring Carlito gave you upon your ring finger glumly; a two-karat pear-shaped diamond, glistening at every angle.
With your refusal within the last five years to take off the ring and last night spent crying over it until your eyes felt numb and you physically couldn’t anymore, the engagement ring now serves as a reminder for as long as you keep it on your finger, you won’t give up on Carlito entirely.
At the same time the ache in your heart tells you that such a beautiful ring over your finger is a result of Carlito’s criminality; how else would Carlito or any other person afford a two-karat diamond just like that?
‘Drug money.’ Carlito, his heroin heists, and the massive drug ring he ran in East Harlem got you this engagement ring and secured your future with Carlito, but also was a reminder as to why Carlito was in jail.
‘Five years. Twenty-five more to go.’ You feel your bottom lip trembling just thinking about the thirty-year sentence Carlito’s going to be serving, and it doesn’t look like anything’s gotten in the way to change it now.
Nothing can help Carlito or change his sentence now—at least not to you with any reasonable explanation and justification you can come up with on the spot.
You know there’s simply too much evidence that proves Carlito did everything and everything. The thirty-year sentence in a way is very much deserved when it comes to the list of Carlito’s proven charges since everyone in the courtroom including Dave—Carlito’s lawyer and close friend you can hardly stand—knew Carlito was fucked because there was little to no defense to be said against such incriminating, hard evidence.
You unfortunately remember it all so perfectly from the moment you took your seat in court until the very end when you barely had the energy left inside of you to step out.
You had never sobbed so hard in your life, silencing your tears and cries by keeping a napkin constantly pressed up to your face.
You remembered staring in horror at the judge as Carlito’s final sentence was read out and that your anxiety only doubled to cause deep nausea inside of you to watch your fiancé rise to his feet only to be handcuffed.
You remembered how right then and there Carlito had turned his head to look at you and only you; giving you a smile with a calm, content look on his face as if nothing was happening—the complete opposite from your bloodshot, teary eyes and shaky hands.
“Don’t worry, baby. Everything’s gonna be alright. Don’t you worry about me.” Were Carlito’s last words to you before the police began to escort him away and the tears pooling in your eyes blurred your vision once more.
30 years without Carlito—you didn’t have a clue as to how you’d go on, knowing you’d be almost sixty years old by the time Carlito’s set to be released.
Still, the question is the same now and will be the same every day for as long as you think of Carlito and keep the engagement ring on your finger; not to mention his belongings that are still in your apartment.
You don’t think you’ll ever recover from the fact your fiancée was a drug lord for years in East Harlem, making millions with the heroin trade and lying about all of it to you throughout the years.
The lie Carlito told you about how he made his money and what he did for a living was that Carlito bought and sold vintage, luxury cars and was also a co-owner of a diamond business on the side; all very believable knowing his stellar reputation and ability to prove it all to you when you came down to see him.
While it may have been true Carlito bought and sold expensive cars and made quite the profit off of selling diamonds, he didn’t mention the storage rooms filled with heroin; processed, refined, and smuggled out there by Carlito and his few, trusted men.
Nonetheless Carlito’s “living” was a good lie that you believed in, but a lie you also believed would sustain your marriage and lifestyle as well as the future lives of your children with Carlito too.
It was because of all of Carlito’s lies that you were ultimately confused when Carlito was arrested and went to court, simply out of being completely clueless about everything.
Even Dave didn’t tell you anything since he believed it was for Carlito and Carlito alone to tell you, but Carlito would never have the time or opportunity to—especially after he got arrested.
It didn’t take you long to realize in the courtroom what had just happened; the lies, the drugs, and Carlito’s criminality—just to name a few.
None of that stood a chance against your feelings and love for Carlito, but you only lost your fiancé that day—not your common sense.
Carlito was influential, powerful, and feared in the streets of East Harlem and kept up the same lies to you since you two met in 1985, but when he was gone, he was gone, and you had to figure out quickly for yourself as to what you would do next.
Would you go see Carlito in prison for the next thirty years as regularly as you could? Would you cut off any contact with Carlito entirely and let Dave know you’re done?
You didn’t decide on either of those—not exactly. After all, nobody ever got in the middle of your relationship with Carlito nor did they even try.
Dave had no intention of helping you; he was considered infamous in the world of law after Carlito’s case and earned the title “mobster lawyer” after the media caught a whiff of just who Dave constantly kept representing in court.
Dave could be whatever the hell he wanted to be—you don’t care about him, but the last thing you’d ever want to think Carlito as is a mobster.
You had to sit there and watch your fiancé get handcuffed and taken away from you, starting a thirty-year prison sentence.
Carlito saw the pain, heartache, and betrayal in your eyes as he was pulled away from you after his trial ended because Carlito knew alone that he was the one who fucked up your relationship, held everything back, and lied to you.
Carlito knew too that the trial would have the most lasting impact on you; he knew he was going to jail, but he didn’t know how you’d react taking in all of this at once which is why Carlito expected you to come to visit him in prison so he could explain everything to you, but he also knew deep down you wouldn’t come and you shouldn’t either.
You were the world to Carlito and he knew then more than ever that he didn’t deserve you. Even if you hated Carlito, moved on, or found someone else, Carlito would come to find you thirty years later just to say sorry and explain what happened all that time ago simply because you deserved to hear the truth one way or another. Carlito owed you the truth, but you owed him nothing.
After everything and all those revelations, you weren’t going to let your heartache and emotions get the better of you; should you go see a liar in prison and risk being lied to some more? Visit a heroin dealer? Talk to a mobster?
There’s simply too much to mention, a lot to say, many questions without answers or ways to get them, and you’d never bother trying to get any reassurance from Dave who didn’t tell you a damn thing about Carlito’s case from the very beginning.
Carlito never called you or wrote letters on the other hand not because he didn’t want to, but because he wasn’t allowed; you believed the former.
‘I don’t care.’ What you aren’t going to do is run after Carlito and have him believe whatever he was doing was right.
You love Carlito to death which is more than enough of an explanation as to why you refuse to take off your engagement ring. You’re not living in denial, but you’re still madly in love with Carlito.
Your heart belongs to Carlito but vice versa holds true too. Thirty years won’t change that for either of you even if the other doesn’t know how one feels.
‘As long as I live… I know I’ll always love him.’ Knowing you, maybe you’ll still yearn and love Carlito in thirty years’ time with no care what all that passing time does to either of you.
For now, Carlito’s engagement remains over your finger perhaps as just another bittersweet reminder. Maybe one day you’ll be ready to take it off or replace it with someone else’s ring.
‘No. No, no..’ You know you could never do that—never want that.
‘Stop.’ Brushing the thought off of your mind immediately, you take a small sip of your cappuccino. ‘Stop thinking about this shit—not again.’
Today is Friday after all and you have the rest of the afternoon to yourself to relax after work; tonight is a planned girl’s night with your best friends—ready to drink and dance the night away at a club to welcome the weekend like you all regularly did.
It’s not the end of the world after all, even though some nights had you drowning in your own tears from missing Carlito and pretending he was lying next to you in bed.
Someway, somehow, sometime, you’ll have to move on eventually and that’s exactly what you thought you could have done about six months ago.
With much insistency and influence from your friends, you went on your first blind date and if you said you weren’t interested, it would have been a lie.
The guy you met up with that night for your date was fairly attractive and cute, and because of the jewelry you wore with several rings on your finger at the time, your date neither noticed nor questioned the diamond engagement ring on your finger.
Your date was fascinated and interested in you too much to look anywhere else, trying to make the best of the night you both had together.
As you two made conversation, you learned your date worked for a law firm and the two of you got along well from the beginning of the date to the end.
When the date ended, you refused any kissing or hugs—not that it was offered because you pulled away so quickly and you didn’t want him to drive you home either no matter how much he politely insisted.
Once you got into the back of your taxi, you were already in tears. Nothing wrong had happened during the date nor was it unpleasant in any way but you were adamant you would never do these silly blind dates again or even call this guy back.
Everything felt wrong like you were explicitly cheating on Carlito. No matter how many blind dates you went on and cuter guys you met, they would never be Carlito or anywhere close to the man you truly love.
Once you got home that night, you threw off every ring and piece of jewelry except for your engagement ring.
You still hate how after five years the pain can be so fresh at times, rushing to you all at once even when the topic of love is brought up in a conversation for example.
Your heart was set in stone knowing you would never love anyone else the way you loved Carlito; he left that much of a hole in your heart but ensnared you with his love in return.
You still believe Carlito’s your soulmate, but he’s a soulmate you refuse to see and speak to even if you wanted to.
To reach Carlito in the prison he was being held in was one tricky thing, but getting to and from there was dangerous enough, not to mention being constantly watched and searched by the prison guards if you even got there.
Carlito and Dave both knew how difficult the prison made it for visitors of any kind to come, but Carlito was willing to split mountains in two and make anything work so as long as you wanted to come to see him.
But for Carlito to know for sure you’d like to come to see visit him and speak with him in prison, he would have to ask you through Dave first.
[ 1988, 3 months after Carlito’s sentence ]
Sitting in Dave’s office with tears stinging in your eyes, holding down your bitter anger and keeping your gaze off of that “asshole with a law degree”, you’re here and only here because there’s something about Carlito.
‘Bastard made Carlito look like a mobster in front of everyone, but he forgets who he is. He’s a mobster’s favorite lawyer. He represents crooks, the corrupt, murderers, and every bit of filth in this town if it means he gets his five minutes of fame. Carlito is none of those things. He deserved better, point blank.’
Dave notices how you sit on the very edge of the couch, wanting to be as far away from his presence in Dave’s own office.
He gives you a welcoming smile, but you return a scowl, causing Dave to sigh softly in defeat and adjust his posture in his seat. “Evelyn, listen… I won’t take up too much of your time because I already know you can’t stand me.”
“That’s right.” You say back, staring at the carpet beneath your heels.
“Okay,” Dave sighs again, rubbing his temples. “I understand your frustration and—”
“I don’t want your sympathy.” You glare at the floor, forcing yourself not to look up at him. “What happened, happened, and you called me last night to tell me you had something about Carlito, so just talk already.”
Dave nods at you, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough. It’s just a simple question really but uh—Carlito wanted me to ask you in person.”
You raise your eyes up from the ground for the first time in ten minutes, staring at Dave and waiting for him to get to the point already.
“Do you want to see Carlito?” Dave asks you.
“What kind of question is that?” You ask back, already feeling your heart begin to ache in your chest.
“I mean like in prison.” Dave clarifies, “do you want to visit him every now and then?”
“He’s the one asking?” You raise your brows.
“Well, yes.” Dave nods, confirming. “He wanted an answer for himself.”
“And I want the answers to a lot of things too, boo hoo.” You say back sarcastically, getting up from your seat before your emotions get the better of you. “Like why you kept Carlito’s case away from me, why Carlito lied to me about almost everything—”
“Evelyn, please.” Dave quickly rises up from his seat in an attempt to reassure you. “All of what I could have told you is and was confidential! You know I can’t tell you these things, or anyone—”
“You’re just as bad as him.” You point an accusing finger at Dave. “No, by the way. No, I don’t want to see Carlito again and you can tell him that. Don’t ever ask me this again!” You throw open the door to Dave’s office, gritting your teeth out of frustration.
“And don’t call me again either, do you understand?! I only tolerated you because Carlito called you his friend, whatever good that did him. Carlito isn’t here anymore and yes, I do blame you for much of that. I want nothing to do with you, Dave. Nothing! I don’t care if you’re New York’s next hotshot lawyer, you’re nothing to me just as you did nothing worthwhile for Carlito!” Just like that, you make your exit by slamming Dave’s office door shut behind you.
Dave grimaces, staring down at his office desk glumly before his eyes wander down to the hidden telephone on call under his desk that you aren’t aware of.
As Dave can no longer hear your footsteps or anybody’s presence around his office for that matter, he leans down to pick up the telephone and put it back on the corner of his desk. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes, I did,” Carlito answers on the other end. “She’s upset, Dave. It’s normal. I expected this much.”
“Yeah, me too. Dave murmurs. “She’s…something.”
“Everything’s already gone to hell.” Carlito sighs deeply. “I don’t want Evelyn to hate me, but it might be too late for that.”
“So, what do you want me to do?” Dave slouches back down in his office seat.
“Get someone to her,” Carlito suggests. “You know what I’m talking about. I want protection for Evelyn, however, you can get it and I want that someone doing so being the most reliable, subtle guy you’ve got. Keep an eye on her, see who she’s with and where she is. I just want her to be safe, happy, and healthy but don’t get me wrong when I say this—I don’t want my lady stalked, do you understand me?”
“Yeah man, I get it. That’s a good idea actually.” Dave nods to himself.
“I care for her.” Carlito continues, “and I don’t give a damn how many years the judge said I gotta rot in here for, I just want to know if my baby’s gonna be alright. Long as I know that it’s gonna keep me sane in here.”
~
Since that day and not at all to your knowledge, Carlito had one of his men follow and track your every move.
Just as Carlito wished, it wasn’t that you were “stalked” but that one of Carlito’s bodyguards who had worked with Carlito and known him for years in the ‘business’ just kept a watchful eye on you and nothing else.
You were followed from afar at an appropriate distance and Carlito’s bodyguard changed cars very often so as not to give away his identity or have you notice him in the slightest.
As a result, it was impossible for you to tell in any way that someone was following and watching you, and at the same time, you didn’t feel that way either.
Carlito’s bodyguard had one job and only job only: keep an eye on you, see who you were with, where you were and if you were safe. Anything notable was to be mentioned like for example if you fell ill and went to see a doctor so Carlito would be notified of everything.
This way, Carlito felt that he could still be with you knowing what was going on in your life and when you’d come home for the night, the bodyguard would park with another associate outside—taking turns during the night keeping watch.
More than anything, you were just protected ever since, because it had nothing to do with a lack of trust for you or suspicion but that Carlito cared for you deeply, and knowing he couldn’t see you physically or even hear your voice over the phone was agonizing enough and in prison, Carlito had very few reasons to be happy.
As long as you—Carlito’s girl—whom Carlito still considered his fiancée—was happy and safe, then all could and would be considered alright in Carlito’s world.
Today, however, everything’s different because Carlito’s a free man—something you personally don’t know, but Carlito will make sure you come to find out before anything else.
Carlito’s not a free man today because he had a strong, credible alibi or that he appealed his sentence only to provide full proof and evidence clearing his name, but Dave exploited Carlito’s sentence on a legal technicality.
If it was one thing Dave did well in his cases, it was exploiting the fuck out of them to make sure his clients no matter how corrupt, guilty, or murderous they were, got out one way or another.
Carlito’s a free man and nothing else matters, including Dave’s unorthodox and immortal ways.
While you spent your morning routine earlier today getting ready for work, Carlito was back in court with a very displeased judge sitting in front of him not buying the “I changed” bullshit speech Carlito was telling him.
Still, today’s Carlito’s day, and nobody else stands a chance; all have no choice but to finally hear Carlito out.
Carlito didn’t care who believed what he said or what others thought of him now. Carlito knows he’s a changed man and he had to be, especially if he wants to get his old life back without crime and be a better man for you above all things.
Having a lot of truthful explaining to do to you is a priority to Carlito and it’s not something to be taken lightly and done over a phone call or a letter.
Carlito knows he needs to see you in person as soon as possible and without Dave being there. Carlito wants to make it all happen tonight on his first day out—all business and all truth finally settled for good.
After five years of dreaming about your face and touching you in his dreams, Carlito’s not going to wait a day longer when he knows now it’s in his control to finally see you.
Still, released out of prison or not today, that doesn’t mean Dave intends on breaking his word with you. Dave still refuses to talk to you about Carlito or tell you anything about him just as you asked, but it’s Carlito’s ex-girlfriend before you—Gail—whose been constantly calling and visiting Dave’s office wanting updates and just about anything she could get out of Dave about Carlito recently.
You knew who Gail was but not very well—bumping into her on the street after her dance lessons when Carlito was by your side a few years ago.
Gail knew then that you were Carlito’s girlfriend and she didn’t do anything to interfere or protest that fact, nor did she actively seek out Carlito’s comfort.
The only thing Dave let slip out of his mouth to Gail was that you and Carlito technically weren’t together anymore since Carlito was in jail, and Gail was just the perfect naïve type to believe Carlito would not only be out sooner than the thirty-year sentence he was served but that she could have a chance to rekindle her relationship with Carlito too.
Carlito would have never thought Gail would assume or want such things, but he did know one thing: Carlito’s answer was and always is going to be “no” unless it had something to do with you.
If it’s one thing Carlito has an abundance of still and without any doubts is money. Everything Carlito owned before he went to jail was all very legal in property and investments, and Dave had assured Carlito it would all be there.
Nobody could tell Carlito otherwise when it comes to his bars and clubs that he knows he’ll be coming to see one by one over the next few weeks to pick up his revenue and keep an eye on things as Carlito’s life returns to a steady normal.
The only thing that changed tonight was that on his last watch, Carlito’s bodyguard let him know you and your girlfriends were planning on going to a specific club Carlito owns tonight at 10 PM.
It’s the very nightclub Carlito co-owns with that gambling addict Saso, and if anything you’re completely unaware Carlito owns the club let alone has anything to do with it; just another thing Carlito needs to explain to you once he finally gets to see and talk to you.
Carlito’s mind is set: he’s going to see you tonight and will be at the club before you.
“Ten PM,” Carlito confirms, tapping his finger against his watch. “Evelyn will be there without a doubt.”
“Finally going to go see her, eh?” Dave pours two half cups of whiskey on the other side of his office. “And not a minute too soon.”
“She’s the only person I’ve wanted to see for the past five years.” Carlito lets out a drawn-out sigh, rising from his seat. “I’m not doing that shit on the streets no more and you know, I know it,” Carlito points at his chest. “And for Evelyn, I gotta start tonight. She won’t believe a word I say now, and I can’t blame her.”
“You’ll figure it out, man.” Dave hands Carlito a glass of whiskey, holding his. “You always do, but you’ve got other things to worry about too.”
“Yeah?” Carlito takes the glass of whiskey from Dave, raising curious brows before drinking it.
“Gail.” Dave points out, taking a sip of his whiskey.
“What about her?” Carlito licks off a drop of whiskey from his lips.
“That pretty little thing,” Dave chuckles, knowing he’s attracted to Carlito’s ex-girlfriend a little too much.
“What about her?” Carlito asks again, clearly unphased by Dave’s behavior.
“She knows your back in town,” Dave points out, “and she’ll definitely want to see you. I’m only surprised Gail hasn’t called me a hundred more times to ask where you’ll be. What do you want me to tell her? You know she’ll come knocking any day now.”
“Gail…” Carlito murmurs, a little irritated by her constant insistence to see and hear from him. “I’ll see her again sometime but differently. On my terms, and as friends. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but…” Carlito glances inside his whiskey glass, taking another sip. “I don’t wanna lead her on because there is no Gail and me, Dave.”
“Mhmm.” Dave nods, pressing his lips together. “Guess whatever was going on, went on in the past, huh?”
“Just that,” Carlito confirms, finishing his drink and setting the empty glass down. “Whatever she wants to call it now, I’m really not interested. She’s just an old friend to me now so—” Carlito walks towards Dave’s office door, gesturing to his phone. “Maybe keep her wondering where I am for now. I’m busy tonight.”
“Yeah man, don’t worry.” Dave begins to head back to his office desk. “Enjoy yourself tonight. You’re a free man after all, and you deserve it.”
“I appreciate it.” Carlito gives Dave a small wave before exiting his office.
Carlito Brigante didn’t say the words “I changed” in front of his appeal trial to appease the jury or the judge, but because he believes it himself to his very core.
Five years locked up inside has changed Carlito and for the better, reminding him that he’s going to do nothing dishonest, forget the streets, and clear his name no matter what reputation he holds now and you’ll be the first to hear about it all—truthfully.
~
Getting ready for tonight before you meet up with your girls and carpool to the club wanting to do nothing but drink and dance for the rest of the evening, you stand in front of your full-body mirror across from the foot of your bed and admire your sultry outfit for tonight.
Dressed in a mini, sequin, strapless black dress, you smoothen out the sides of your outfit and turn around before the mirror, admiring the way the sequin pieces sparkle as light reflects over it.
It’s the perfect, sexy outfit to wear tonight hugging you in all the right places but providing the perfect amount of comfort to sit and dance in a crowd all night; sleek, sexy, and effortless.
You reach down, adjusting your new, black platform heels over your feet and beginning to appreciate how wearing heels over the years to practically any occasion you could get away with has taught you how to comfortably dance in six or even seven-inch heels if you wanted to.
Moving back to your vanity table, you add another layer of mascara over your lashes but ultimately keep your makeup light for tonight, knowing you’ll practically sweat it off dancing anyways.
Checking the time on your night table and knowing the cab will pull up in front of your apartment any minute now, you grab your matching black sequin purse and sling it over your shoulder—ready to start your Friday night.
Purposefully arriving before you, Carlito steps out of his cab, and without bothering to take a look around him or waste another moment, Carlito walks directly inside his club.
Saso may have run this place (surprisingly not to the ground) when Carlito couldn’t for the past five years but nothing changes, and certainly not the ownership as Carlito’s come to collect and see just how honest his favorite gambling addict’s really been during his absence.
Dressed in a three-piece black suit with a muted shade of purple for a dress shirt and without a tie, the rest of Carlito’s semi-formal look for tonight is topped off with his signature all-gold jewelry; an 18k gold chain link bracelet, a matching wristwatch, and a pinky ring set in a square with a black stone.
If you don’t see Carlito coming, you can certainly pick up on the scent of his expensive cologne bound to raise the attention of some curious eyes passing by.
The packed club blaring with loud dance music as servers desperately try not to get their tray of expensive drinks knocked over and make it to tables in one piece to serve their patrons aside is one of the first things Carlito sees upon entering.
With everything looking relatively normal and routine, Carlito knows the club will carry on this way until at least 4 AM.
“Hey, boss!” Pachanga—one of Carlito’s most trusted bodyguards—calls out. “Ah, man, there you are.” Pachanga grins, standing before Carlito and patting his shoulder. “Came early just to see you bossman when I heard you were comin’ out.”
Things like rekindling or reminiscing over the past are far beyond Carlito who knew he’d come back to have everything under his control and ownership get right back to him—men and bodyguards included.
“Where’s Saso?” Carlito asks, shutting down any further opportunity for small talk.
“Over there, boss.” Pachanga points upstairs to the second level of the club, just towards the office.
Saso adjusts his tie in front of one of the mirrors on the wall, getting some much-needed space from the sweaty crowds around him.
“What do you think?” Carlito’s eyes dart from the sight of Saso back to Pachanga. “Think the old fuck’s gambled away all my money?”
“Not if he values his life, boss.” Pachanga chuckles, beginning to crack his knuckles. “But lemme know because I ain’t come empty-handed. Maybe we can cut it out of him.”
“We’ll see,” Carlito murmurs, beginning to head up the stairs to get to Saso.
Just as Carlito makes it upstairs and is a mere few steps behind Saso, Saso can make out his old boss’ reflection in the mirror he’s looking in which causes him to gasp and stumble back before turning around to face Carlito.
“So you already know what this is about.” Carlito raises both of his brows at the terrified-looking Saso before him. “No welcome back party for me or anything? Where’s my money, Saso?”
“I told you I wouldn’t spend it, boss.” Saso shakes his head frantically, “a-and I didn’t! I didn’t!” Saso points to the office door behind Carlito. “I kept it in the safe after all this time, y-you know! I only took a little bit to keep things smooth and running, b-but nothing else, I promise!”
“Why so scared then, old man?” Pachanga smirks, purposefully dragging the handle of his switchblade against the staircase railing as he walks up.
Saso’s terrified expression is now equally shared towards Carlito and Pachanga. “W-well, last time you come in here, you threaten to cut my liver out in front of e-everybody! Here!” Saso pulls out the office keys from the pocket of his trousers, handing them to Carlito shakily.
“That was five years ago,” Carlito points out, quick to take the keys away from Saso.
“N-no way you’ll change your mind now that you’re back, then.” Saso swallows hard.
“It’s better off this way.” Carlito rolls his eyes before pointing a finger at Saso. “Now, I’m gonna go into my office and take a look at my money. If anything’s missing or I see you skimmed off too much, I’m gonna cut the rest of your organs out with your liver, do you understand me?”
“Y-yes,” Saso stutters.
“Good.” Carlito narrows his eyes, gesturing to Pachanga. “Watch him. I don’t want the old fuck out of my sight if things go wrong. He might bolt.”
“Got it, boss.” Pachanga grins back at Saso, taking a few steps up to get closer. “Let’s spend some quality time together, huh?”
Carlito turns on his heel, approaching the office door and unlocking it. Once he steps inside and flicks on the lights, he sees nothing’s changed; not the furniture or even its arrangement—everything’s left the exact same way it was.
Carlito locks the office door behind him and moves to close the blinds of the office windows first.
Because of how well-kept and clean the office appears, Carlito already assumes Saso hasn’t stepped foot in here for five years either.
Keeping quiet and focused, Carlito uses the same combination to the safe before popping it open. Inside, Carlito notices massive stacks of cash just as he expected, and simply from eyeballing it, Carlito estimates there’s possibly about half a million dollars in here.
Only impressed by the amount, Carlito reaches in and takes out two stacks of cash—running his fingers through the money and counting it.
‘All hundreds. Solid, banded up.’ Carlito notes before putting the money back inside the safe and shutting it tight.
Carlito begins to change the combination on the safe; this is his money, always will be, and always has been.
Now that Carlito’s around to oversee the club’s operations and earnings, the cash will come to his hands before it ever reaches a safe.
The money inside the case is all for you and Carlito; the future he wants to settle on and have with you after all.
“Hey, boss!” Pachanga knocks on the office door, calling out.
“Yeah, what is it?” Carlito says back, still busy with changing the combination.
“I’m keeping our friend Saso here company but I just wanted to let ya know, your lady friend is here with some girls!”
Carlito pauses, staring at the numbers on the combination lock. Of course, he knows you’re coming tonight but now that you’re actually here, it’s a different story altogether.
“Where is she?” Carlito asks, finishing up with the combination.
“Just downstairs on the dancefloor, boss! Uhhh, she has a corner seat and waved to me when she got here.”
‘Evelyn waved at you…?’ Carlito furrows his brows, brushing off his hands. “I’ll deal with it.”
“And is Saso good to go, boss? Or is liver on the menu tonight?” Pachanga snickers.
“Yeah, let the old man go but not before reminding him whose office and money this is now. I don’t wanna see his face again tonight.” Carlito orders, moving towards the windows of the office.
“Will do, boss. Will do!” Pachanga moves away from the office door and back towards Saso.
‘Who…?’ Carlito peeks through the closed blinds, looking towards the center of the dancefloor, then to the corner seat Pachanga directed to.
Instead of seeing you sitting there much to Carlito’s anticipation, he instead sees Gail sitting next to Stephanie and another girl that Carlito doesn’t recognize; friends of Gail’s nonetheless.
A deep sense of disappointment hits Carlito at seeing Gail sitting there instead of you, but he can’t exactly ignore Gail here either.
You’re still on your way to the club with your friends but Carlito knows you’re not here yet and that’s enough for him.
Carlito sighs deeply, adjusting his tie before unlocking his office door and stepping out. He gives Pachanga an acknowledging nod before Carlito walks down the stairs and to where Gail sits.
Carlito knows the club of all places isn’t the best place to answer Gail’s incessant questions he knows will come, but Carlito may just be able to have Gail finally take a hint about how he feels about her.
Within a few minutes, your cab finally pulls up to the front of the club where you arrive with your girlfriends.
All of you can already see how packed the club is from the outside alone, leaving no room to look around and get distracted by the scenery.
Staying close to all of your friends, you three make your way straight to the bar to start with some drinks and warm up before hitting the dancefloor for the rest of the night.
Neither you nor Carlito sees one another in the club, but the two of you aren’t far from each other either.
“Hi ladies, what can I get for you all tonight?” The bartender asks as you all take a seat on the stools next to each other.
“One round of tequila for me, please!”
“Bloody Mary, please. God, I’ve always wanted to try one of those!”
“And for you, miss?” The bartender turns to you with a smile.
You lean your elbows onto the bar table, smiling back politely. “I’ll take a cosmopolitan.”
Over on the other side of the club, as the bartender prepares you and your friends’ drinks, Carlito stands before Gail’s table who is more than ecstatic to look up and see him.
“Charlie!” Gail exclaims happily, practically jumping up from her seat to embrace Carlito.
“Gail, hey.” Carlito smiles, putting his hands over her shoulders gently.
Gail giggles, cupping Carlito’s cheeks. “I knew you’d be here!”
“Did Dave tell you?” Carlito chuckles.
“Yes,” Gail nods back excitedly, “but only because I asked and asked and asked until he couldn’t keep quiet anymore ‘cause are you kidding me? You’re finally out and I get to see you, Charlie! How could I not come?”
“My first day already and it seems like everyone wants to see me.” Carlito places both of his hands on top of Gail’s, taking her hands off of his cheeks but squeezing them gently.
“I’m here for you and you only.” Gail tugs on Carlito’s arm to lead him to her table. “Food and drinks on the table, come! Come join me! I’ve got my friends here too but oh, they’d love to meet you. You’re all I’ve been talking about! Oh, you’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you!”
“I’ve missed you too honey, but now’s not a good time, you know?” Carlito doesn’t move from his spot.
“Why not?” Gail looks back at Carlito over her shoulder. “You didn’t go see your girlfriend first, so I just thought…” Gail looks towards the bar, watching you sip your cocktail next to your friends. “I thought Evelyn saw me at least, but she didn’t even come to say hi.”
Carlito’s eyes widen as he spots you by the bar, but Gail attempts to grab his attention again.
“Well, come on.” Gail beams, hugging Carlito’s arm. “At least stay with us for a while. Evelyn’s not going anywhere, is she?”
It’s right then and there that you turn your head to the side while relaxing with your cocktail that you spot Carlito and Gail across the bar, staring back at you.
‘Carlito!?’ You almost drop your cocktail from the shock of seeing Carlito there alone, and your heart instantly races in your chest in response. ‘No… But he’s in jail, right? Or was he ever?’
Carlito most certainly doesn’t look like a man who's gotten out of prison at all.
Shocked and frozen in spot, your environment blurs around you and you can no longer feel the heat of the crowd packed around you or even hear the music blaring around you.
The tips of your ears and the nape of your neck burn and prickle from the shock, but from a betrayed-like feeling and confusion—all trying to make sense as to how Carlito is here.
Carlito makes eye contact with you for only a split second before you put down your cocktail and immediately disappear into the crowd.
“Evelyn!? Girl, where are you going?” You can hear your friends calling out from behind you, but you ignore them, ducking and moving through the crowd until you get to the women’s washroom.
You duck right before you get near the women’s washroom, making it look like you’ve gone in to hide.
In reality, you’re holding your tears back and rushing to the very end of the club right up until you feel someone grab you by both of your hips, stopping you.
You squeal, feeling the firm pair of hands turning you around. You spin to see Carlito holding onto you, staring at you with wide eyes filled with anticipation. “Evelyn!”
“What are you—” In shock, you attempt to pull away from Carlito.
“Where are you going? I’ve been looking for you all night—” Carlito only tightens his grip on you.
“All night?” You breathe, instantly feeling a rush of anger come over you as tears sting your eyes. “Welcome back, Carlito. Was I going to be the first to find out you’re out of jail?! Or were you not going to bother to come to me until I saw you with Gail there—huh?!”
“Is that all that you saw?” Carlito sighs, “baby, don’t be like this—”
“Don’t call me baby!” You cry out, swatting Carlito’s hands off of you. “You’re a liar! I can’t even believe you’re here right now! Oh my God. When did you get out and why didn’t you tell me—”
“I got out TODAY!” Carlito emphasizes, trying to convince and reassure you.
“You got out today and you’re at a club?” You scoff, unconvinced. “You expect me to believe that bullshit?”
“Yes, because I also expect you to believe that this is my club. I own it.” Carlito stares at you, waiting for a response.
“What?” You mumble, furrowing your brows in confusion.
“This?” Carlito extends out his arms, gesturing around the packed nightclub. “This is all mine. I own this club, legally. I’m too old to come up here dancing and drinking and you know that. Now, will you please come with me?”
“Where?” You feel your throat tightening and a sense of guilt beginning to hit you.
“To my office, upstairs.” Carlito points up. “Come on, come with me, please. I have so much to tell you.”
On the verge of tears, your hands begin to tremble. “Carlito…” You still can’t register to yourself that your fiancée is here right here and now, having no idea what’s going on yet at the same time feeling like you’re about to have a nervous breakdown.
Carlito gently wraps an arm around your waist as you nod at him glumly, looking away. He pulls you through the crowds and leads you upstairs without having a single person bump into you.
Gail looks up from where she sits wither friends, watching Carlito’s protective and loving hand remain over your hips as he guides you to his office—leaving her all alone tonight.
Gail frowns but pretends it doesn’t bother her, looking away. She’ll get through the evening by continuing to eat and drink as she said to Carlito she would.
As you come upstairs, you see Pachanga—one of Carlito’s old bodyguards or more so known to you as just a “good friend” or “Carlito’s assistant”—smiling at you like he’s been waiting to see you all night too.
You really begin to believe now that you’re not having some sort of fever dream but that everything’s about to make sense—or at least you desperately hope so—on Carlito’s behalf tonight.
Carlito opens his office door and you practically stumble inside, still staring at him in disbelief as he locks the door behind you—leaving the two of you alone from the heat of the club face to face for the first time in five years.
Carlito turns around, letting out a soft sigh. In your eyes, he sees hate, betrayal, and a million questions—nothing relieved or reassured whatsoever but it’s what Carlito’s been expecting from you for the past five years, righteously. Carlito’s presence means nothing now without answers.
“Baby, listen.” Carlito puts his hands up, taking a step towards you.
You immediately step back, raising both of your brows at him. “Who are you referring to—me or Gail? The first person you really went to see as soon as you got out of prison, Carlito like I’m still supposed to believe all of this.”
“You think I’d lie to you?” Carlito frowns. “What do I have to do to—” But Carlito catches himself on how ridiculous that question would sound now considering he did lie to you almost religiously for years on end.
“Because you’re a liar!” You scowl, crossing your arms. “Because you lied to me for years and will do so again so I don’t believe a goddamn word that comes out of your mouth nor will I again.”
“Then why did you come up here with me?” Carlito raises a brow, asking you.
You stare back at Carlito, feeling tears pooling up in the corners of your eyes before you shake your head. “Goddamn you, Carlito.”
“What are you really upset about, Evelyn?” Carlito begins to approach you again slowly and this time you don’t back away—tears streaming down your cheeks. “Because if you ask me, the only fucking thing I care about is you, not whoever else decides to approach me at the club because they pestered my lawyer to find out where I was. I know you didn’t want to hear anything about me, Evelyn, but how could I get to you in another way?”
“If you’re out…” You swallow hard, “then why wouldn’t call me or come to my apartment today?”
“Because you’re here.” Carlito points to the ground.
“How did you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, growing suspicious.
“That’s not important.” Carlito shakes his head. “What’s important is that—”
“No!” You push Carlito’s hand away from you again. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me, okay? You owe me too many answers and apologies before you can even think of laying a finger on me.”
“Okay, okay, honey.” Carlito shows you his hands, moving back and respecting your space. “At least hear me out, please. I know that’s the only damn thing you’ve wanted to do for five years now and I was fuckin’ dying to talk to you too.”
“Yeah?” You sniffle, looking at Carlito with teary eyes and only feeling all the worse for cutting off all contact related to him.
“But like I said…” Carlito paces around his office before opening up the mini fridge near the corner of the room. “I knew you were upset and angry with me. You have all the right to be, I won’t tell you how to feel or what to do.” Carlito takes out a bottle of coke and whiskey, setting it down on the counter.
“Right…” You bat away your tears, watching him.
“I know it.” Carlito shuts the mini fridge door, standing back up and taking the two liquor glasses on the counter, beginning to prepare drinks throughout his conversation. “Firstly… There’s nothing between Gail and me. She called and wrote to me in prison but what good did that do her? Or better yet—” Carlito opens the can of coke, adding an equal amount to both cups. “What did it change? Nothing. Her coming to see me tonight is a surprise, considering I told Dave to keep his mouth shut because I knew this would happen but there is nothing between Gail and me, baby.” Carlito looks back over at you, “and there will be nothing. You know how she gets.”
You watch as Carlito adds the whiskey over top of the coke, giving the drinks a quick stir before holding both glasses in his hands and turning to you. “But like I said, this place? I own it. It’s my club. She knows that too, but it’s public knowledge. You can look it up for yourself too, you don’t have to take my word for it.”
“Maybe I wasn’t planning on it,” you murmur, keeping your arms crossed.
“I think you were.” Carlito walks over to you, handing you a drink.
“How would you know?” Curious as to how Carlito will answer this one, you take the drink from him.
“Because of this.” Carlito points to your engagement ring, causing your cheeks to flare up scarlet from blush and embarrassment. “You know I haven’t forgotten about that either. That I don’t consider it any other way.”
“You still think I’m your fiancée?” You’re surprised you can even get that sentence out without breaking down into tears again.
“Yes actually, I do.” Carlito reaffirms. “Now or in thirty years, I still do.”
“You actually expect me to believe that too, don’t you?” Another tear slides down your cheek, and you’ve never been more relieved for wearing waterproof makeup tonight.
“I do.” Carlito extends out his free hand for you to take. “Because I know damn well you wouldn’t have stood in here for a second with me if you didn’t believe me. You wouldn’t wear that ring knowing what it means to both of us and our relationship and because you know I’m here for you with nothing else standing in the way of what we had and what we have. Nobody’s ruining that for me. Not tonight, not ever.” Carlito notices your eyes widening as you listen to him. “Whatever damage I caused between us was my doing, Evelyn. I wouldn’t show you my face if I wasn’t a changed man ready, to tell the truth. I don’t have the right to beg for your forgiveness but I am begging you to hear me out, baby. Please.”
You take Carlito’s hand, squeezing it and nodding in understanding. “O-okay.”
“Come here, baby.” Carlito leads you to the seats in his office, gesturing for you to sit.
You take your seat on an armchair next to his, taking a shaky sip of your drink to ease your nerves.
Carlito gets comfortable in his seat, putting his drink down on the coffee table in front of the two of you.
You squeeze your eyes shut and give out a little sigh before you begin to speak. “You were gone.” You force yourself not to cry any further. “Just like that, you were gone and everything we had was gone too. Drugs, Carlito. Really?” You open your eyes again, staring at Carlito in disappointment. “The streets run red with blood because of these things and yet you lied to me about everything you did.”
“Not everything.” Carlito corrects you. “I told you everything I could but at the end of the day, I was living the fast life before we even met. You know more than Gail would ever know, even in the past. I wanted you to know more—trust me—but you know that kind of lifestyle—”
“The fast life.” You repeat.
“Not for me.” Carlito takes his drink off the coffee table, sipping it as he leans back into his seat.
Just the look in Carlito’s eyes to you now is filled with nothing but desire—yearning and dying to touch you but Carlito can still feel the cold distance between the two of you, upsetting Carlito more than you could know.
“I know.” You nod slowly. “Even though that asshole attorney of yours wouldn’t tell me anything, I figured enough for myself. That’s not you, Carlito.”
“I’m done,” Carlito tells you with more than enough belief in his own words. “I’m done and I don’t care whether the judge bought what I said or not because it’s the truth. I changed. I’m a changed man, I’m not getting caught up in this shit anymore. You can see it for yourself, baby. I’m retired. What I have now is what. This is enough for me.” Carlito swallows down another sip of his drink, looking at you with anticipation next. “And I want to start over again with you, however you want it.”
“You don’t have to start over.” You put your drink down, rising up from your seat and standing in front of Carlito.
For a moment there, Carlito believes you’re about to leave his office just like that, but you don’t.
You remain in front of him waiting, and you notice how Carlito begins to gaze up and down your sequin dress and body. “I missed you so much, Evelyn.” Carlito takes your hand in his, lacing his fingers in between yours. “Just understand this: I would do whatever to have you and me back the way we were before all of this. Anything. It’s all on me.”
“I don’t want to start over with you, Carlito.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling nothing but love, trust, lust, affection, and everything you ever felt for Carlito in these past five years rush back to you.
“You’re still my fiancée.” Carlito reminds you, running his finger over your engagement ring. “Come here, please. Let me touch you. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”
Holding back more tears, you toss your purse off of your shoulder and back to the armchair before getting on Carlito’s lap—letting your thighs rest over the arms of the seat.
Carlito embraces you tightly as the two of you hug one another and you lose the battle between your tears, bursting out into sobs over Carlito’s shoulder instantly. “I missed you so fucking much, you have no idea.”
“Oh, baby…” Carlito murmurs, rubbing up and down your back tenderly. “Believe me, I know. Locked up for five damn years without you.” Carlito pulls you back gently, cupping your cheeks with both hands before planting gentle kisses on both cheeks and then kissing your lips.
Your eyes flutter shut in response as you kiss Carlito back deeply, both of you tasting whiskey off of each other’s lips.
“Will you come home with me?” You ask softly once you pull away from the kiss.
“Yes, of course, baby.” Carlito nods. “You know I’m not spending another moment here I don’t need to without you. I came here for you, you know.”
“Mmm…” You peek down to watch as Carlito rubs your palms up and down with his; your eyes admiring his gold link bracelet and the ring over his pinky finger. “Still can’t believe it.”
“I’m here for you baby, I’m here,” Carlito reassures you, keeping his voice low and soft. “And I’ll prove it to you as much as you want me to.”
“Just…” You hiccup, your bottom lip trembling. “Can you just hold me, please? I haven’t held you for so long that n-none of this feels real. I j-just—” You shake your head, clutching onto Carlito’s shoulders. “I just can’t believe so please just—just hold me.”
“Yeah baby, yeah.” Carlito pulls you tightly in his embrace as you rest your head over his shoulder, refusing to let go. “You know, I could hardly believe it myself when I got the hell out of there. You were all I thought about every single day.” Carlito rubs you back in lazy circles, kissing the side of your neck gently. “I dreamt and fantasized about this day for years.”
“God, Carlito…” You whimper, feeling the warmth and safety of your fiancée down to the heavenly scent of his cologne that all remind you you’re not dreaming but that Carlito is here with you.
“We have a lot to talk about, baby.” Carlito strokes your hair gently. “I wanna talk to you and nobody but you. I wanna hear more about you than me.”
“Come home with me.” You slowly pull back, pulling on Carlito’s hand.
“I don’t wanna be here anymore, just come home with me.”
“Alright, baby.” Carlito agrees. “Let’s go then.” He pushes a curtain of your hair behind your ear. “Come out the back exit with me, I don’t want anyone else bothering us for the rest of the evening. We’ll just go home—”
“And stay home.” You insist.
‘Not just for you to spend the night with me only to disappear in the morning.’
“I’m yours anyways, Evelyn,” Carlito tells you. “I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.”
~
Despite being able to leave from the back entrance of the club unseen and without any unwarranted attention, everything still feels dream-like and a blur to you.
Pachanga drives you and Carlito home and the car ride is filled with nothing but silence—Carlito holding your hand and you continuing to take in his presence next to you.
Your mind continues to buzz with questions and although you love Carlito without a doubt, there are still so many questions unanswered and unresolved that it makes you all the more anxious and uneasy not knowing what just happened to your fiancée.
Throughout the car ride, you know your mind isn’t going to figure out what it wants until you get back to your apartment at least.
When you step out of the car, your legs feel like concrete as you unlock the apartment lobby door and lead Carlito up to your suite.
Carlito can still tell you’re visibly upset just by watching your body language, but he neither stops you nor says anything.
Both of you know the two you need to be home with all the privacy you can have to be transparent and honest with each other further, but it’s different.
From the very moment you both get into your apartment, it’s not a matter of sighing and getting drinks to sit down and have a few hours long of serious conversation but as soon as you both step in, take off your shoes and you set your purse aside, you both turn around to face each other by the door.
“Carlito,” you let out a shaky breath, placing your hand over his chest.
Dying to touch you, talk to you, be with you again, and hating himself for everything else aside, Carlito’s drawn to you like a magnet.
You both find yourselves in each other’s embrace once again, kissing feverishly as if it’ll be the last time you do so.
Your lips ache and throb to feel Carlito’s over them again and again—desperate and still in love.
“Carlito,” you manage to whimper throughout the kiss as Carlito picks you up effortlessly, wrapping your thighs around his waist and giving your ass a squeeze before taking you to your bedroom.
Carlito doesn’t take his eyes, lips, or hands off of you as he does so and you’re just as insistent as him by the way you squeeze your thighs around Carlito’s waist.
Carlito lays you down on your bed without moving off of you, tugging off your sequin dress as you continue to lose yourself in the haze of the kiss you both share.
Before you know it, clothes are quickly being thrown off and there’s a sense of lustful aggressiveness in the bedroom until Carlito’s fully naked and throwing off your dress and panties to the side like nothing.
“Carlito…” You gasp, snapping back to reality as your breasts jiggle and spring free, leaving you and Carlito naked and completely vulnerable with each other.
You both look into each other’s eyes, breathing heavily as Carlito places both of his hands over your hips. “You don’t know anything…” Carlito begins to run his hands up and down the sides of your body. “How I feel for you, how everything I do has always been for you.”
You run your hands through Carlito’s dark, silky hair before cupping his cheeks. “You have a lot to make up to me, you know that…?” You breathe hotly over Carlito’s lips.
“Yeah?” Carlito whispers, growing further aroused by the passing second.
“You can start now.” You pull Carlito in closer to him, pressing your lips against his in a wet, full-mouthed kiss.
Your body yearns and begs for every bit of Carlito’s touch, obsessed with the way his hands work to arouse, tease and please you.
Through half-open, lazy eyes distracted by arousal and the scent of sex filling the room, you see Carlito pumping his cock to prepare himself to make up for missing your intimacy these past five years—only scratching the surface tonight.
Panting and quivering through arousal as both of your bodies collide with one another, you tug and pull on Carlito’s hair—letting your hands roam down his shoulders and muscular back.
“You’re mine…” Carlito smacks both of your thighs, firmly squeezing them before his hands find your ass.
“Mm! Yes!” You breathe out, feeling that spark of arousal and passionate fire light inside of you just at the sight of Carlito kissing up and down your body, adoring every inch of your skin.
“Fuck,” Carlito hisses out, the sexual tension only continues to rage between the two of you as his lips close in for another kiss over yours.
Your pussy throbs in response to the shaft of his cock slicking up against it and your arousal only doubles throughout the teasing foreplay.
Keeping eye contact, Carlito slowly slips to fingers inside your mouth and watches as you eagerly suck and wet them.
‘Oh my God, please.’ You watch as Carlito pops his fingers out of your mouth before moving his hand down and rubbing them gingerly over your clit before swirling them around your entrance.
You surprise yourself by moaning as loud as you have, gyrating your hips forward to Carlito as he applies just enough pressure to make you squirm.
Carlito licks off his fingers eagerly before beginning to press his thumbs down on the creases of your inner thigh, spreading your pussy open slowly before he presses his fingers against your entrance once more.
“More, m-more, more,” you moan breathily as you feel Carlito slowly snake a finger inside of you, curling it inward. “Oh God, yes…”
As Carlito begins to finger you, he hovers over your body and grazes his tongue against your bottom lip, feeling you writher in pleasure underneath him.
Carlito uses his thumb to lazily circle over your dewy clit while continuing to finger you, keeping his free hand tangled in your hair to exert dominance over you.
Whimpering back in Carlito’s mouth, you feel him gently bite at your bottom lip and slowly pull it towards him before he re-enters your mouth with his tongue, kissing you again.
But before you can even get enough of the heated kiss, Carlito’s quick to pull away and keep you waiting.
Stunned and confused, you watch as Carlito pulls his fingers out of you and cups your ass to raise your thighs up only to bury his face immediately onto your pussy, slobbering all over it.
“Ohhhh my God!” You shriek, clutching the bedsheets so tightly that your knuckles strain white.
You can feel all of Carlito’s tongue pressed up against the folds of your pussy, licking and slurping upwards to your clit.
“Carlito! YES, YES!” Moaning louder and louder, you feel an orgasm beginning to grow in your gut as your body aches and begs for more.
Shaky little moans come out of your mouth as your muscles tense up and relax again and again from the sensation of pleasure flowing through you.
Carlito’s spit easily mixes in and gets lost within your pussy’s wetness and he doesn’t relent as he slides his tongue all over your clit, focusing solely on it.
Carlito laps up your sweetness, causing you to curl your toes from how his beard brushes up against your clit and stimulates it further.
From the sloppy, messy way Carlito eats your pussy and from how dangerously aroused you’ve become, all of Carlito’s spit and your pussy juices begin to trickle down your ass and inner thighs.
Your pussy contracts from the pleasure and you almost hate yourself for how badly you crave Carlito now, feeling his lips suckling sweetly over your clit.
“Oh, baby.” Carlito pants as he raises his head up from between your legs, breathing heavily. “You’re ready for me.”
Carlito’s husky, sexy voice coupled with the way his hair has tousled already paints the perfect picture of erotica to you.
Keeping his eyes on yours, Carlito takes your right thigh and moves your body to the side as he curls up behind you—both of you laying on your sides.
“P-please, please, please, fuck me—” You clasp a hand over your mouth, rolling your eyes back in pleasure as Carlito continues to keep your thigh raised upward, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you to fuck you from the side.
“Oh baby, you feel so fucking good, you know that? Shit…” The curve of Carlito’s cock hits every weak spot inside of you from the first thrust alone and Carlito can already feel your pussy contracting against his cock, begging to be fucked.
Thrusting in an upwards angle, Carlito presses his naked body against yours and lets his hands wander over your breasts while he continuously presses wet kisses down your shoulders. “So fucking tight…”
From the way Carlito rocks your body back and forth, beginning to thrust deeply until you feel every inch of him entering you again and again to the way his thumbs toy with your hardened nipples, you almost feel intoxicated with arousal and pleasure.
You lazily glance over your shoulder at Carlito who returns the gaze, breathing against your skin and letting out a deep groan. “D-don’t you dare stop…” You squeeze your eyes shut, whimpering and letting yourself moan as loud as need be from the way Carlito fucks you.
“Not until you’re screaming my name, baby.” Carlito can practically feel his cock pulsating inside of you. Keeping his thrusts steady and deep, giving your breasts a smack before trailing his fingers back down to your clit.
Both sensations of pleasure draw the filthiest moans out of you yet and you can barely keep still on the bed from the way your thighs begin to shake from your orgasm dangerously approaching.
Carlito has complete control over your orgasm but is eager to have you cum before himself, watching the way your body reacts against his.
“Yeah, baby, just like that…” Carlito watches his cock easily sliding in and out of you at a quickened pace, causing your ass to redden from how fast and hard Carlito’s hips come into contact with yours.
“Yes, yes, yesssss!” You push your hips back against Carlito’s, only feeling his thrusts grow all the more forceful. “F-fuck me, Carlito! Fuck—fuck me! HARDER!”
Carlito’s kisses over your back harshen just as his thrusts do, filling the room with the sloppy sounds of your pussy sloshing against Carlito’s cock with every thrust.
“You gonna cum for me baby? Hmm?” Carlito squeezes your raised thigh, noticing how you can barely come out with a coherent sentence now from the way Carlito begins to approach thrusting to your G-spot, hitting it when you least expect it.
“Y-yes! I’m—ohhhh! Yes, I’m cumming! Cumming, I’m cumming!” You shriek out, unable to hold your orgasm back as it finally releases out of you.
Creaming over Carlito’s cock from orgasm, the euphoric sensation washes over you like waves in a current from head to toe while Carlito only continues to keep up his ruthless pace of thrusting as you cum.
Carlito slams his hips upward into yours once more, holding you tightly against his chest to see your eyes snap open in surprise from feeling spurts of hot, sticky cum shooting up inside of you.
“O-oh my God,” you pant, unable to stop your thighs from quivering. “Carlito…”
“God…” Carlito pants against your shoulder, holding your thighs steadily before slowly beginning to pull his cock out of you.
“Ooh!” You let out a soft gasp as the feeling of fullness leaves you and Carlito’s cum begins to slowly ooze out of your pussy.
Carlito circles his thumb against your pussy’s entrance, smearing and pushing his cum into you. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed fucking you like this…”
“Mmmmm, C-Carlito,” you barely have the energy to flip over and face him—nothing but a flustered and freshly fucked mess in Carlito’s grasp.
Slowly turning to face Carlito, you swallow hard—still recovering from the aftermath and hypersensitivity over your body.
Carlito chuckles, stealing a kiss from your lips and giving your cheek a gentle caress as both of you still feel the tingling sensation of your recent orgasms.
Still, after five years of sleeping alone to the thought of Carlito in tears, you don’t intend on letting your first night with him after all that time end so soon.
You match Carlito’s passion, taking him by pleasant surprise as you kiss around the outline of his jawline—simply unable to get enough of your fiancé.
“Baby…” Carlito nudges the blankets on your bed away from him to get closer to you before you move down his body, gripping his still erect cock in your hand. “Fuck,” Carlito grunts, bucking his hips up in response and leaning up on the bed upon his elbows.
You lay down on your stomach, popping Carlito’s cock in your mouth and licking upwards quickly before saying, “I missed you too, you know.”
“Not as much as I thought.” Carlito chuckles breathily, moving your hair out of your face as you begin to graze your tongue alongside the tip of his cock.
“Mm? What do you mean?” You wrap your tongue around Carlito’s tip.
“You asked me how I knew you’d be at the club tonight.” Carlito’s breath hitches.
“Mhmm…” Your mouth remains in perfect rhythm against his cock, drooling all over it as you let your tongue do the work. “Is there anything you can’t do? I know how you know…”
“Oh, yeah,” Carlito hisses, watching you suck him off. “I figured. You’re a smart woman.”
“So you know anything and everything, huh?” You smirk up at Carlito before swirling your tongue around his shaft and tasting yourself off of his cock. “I’m impressed… I didn’t figure out a thing until you told me you knew I’d be at the club tonight.”
“I didn’t want you to be bothered, baby.” Carlito groans quietly, “you know I didn’t pay someone to ‘stalk’ you—just wanted you to be safe and happy.”
“You have your reasons, huh?” Your lick Carlito’s precum off of your lips. “Tonight if anything, has always been about your reasons.”
“I want to know your reasons, baby.” Carlito watches you bob your head up and down on his cock. ”That guy, for one. Mm…”
“Mm?” You stare up at Carlito, continuing to suck him off.
“You know I don’t like sharing what’s mine, Evelyn.” Carlito grips your hair, guiding your mouth down on his cock further. “Never have, never will…but I know about that date.”
You roll your eyes, popping Carlito’s cock out of your mouth. “Oh please, you know it was nothing.”
“Nothing?” Carlito’s eyes dart over yours. “Date with a new guy doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”
“And whose cock is in my mouth right now? Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” Turned on by his jealousy, you take Carlito’s cock back into your mouth like candy.
“And if I am?” Carlito groans softly.
“There’s only you for me.” You hum against Carlito’s cock. “I didn’t take my ring off at that date either but mmm… I bet your little spy didn’t tell you that much.”
You slurp up your spit off Carlito’s cock, swallowing before leaning back up to him. “I believe you too.”
“I still have much to make up to you, baby.” Carlito moves over, tilting your chin up to face him. “Open your mouth, baby.”
You do as he says eagerly, waiting.
Carlito spits in your mouth, taking you by surprise as you whimper—turned on and aroused instantly by his actions all over again as you swallow down his spit.
“’Atta girl,” Carlito smirks at you. “Say ‘thank you, sir’.”
“Thank you, sir.” You breathe back, seeing that the old Carlito you love, know, and fucked is most definitely back.
We need Ex boyfriend Tony x reader 🥵, where reader and Tony where in a long term relationship and broke up because he choose drugs over her or maybe something else, and reading how they’re are dealing with the break up .
Starting off with Tony's perspective on all this and then to the reader... 👀 Perhaps if I wrote a multi-chapter fic on the two, the reader's POV may have more context. 😏 All I'm saying is that the two are in denial and pretending like they still don't care about each other!
“I just think that’s crazy, you know.” Manny runs his fingers over the label of the wine bottle in his hands. “All that time later.”
“Uh-huh.” Tony’s only half listening as he secures another suitcase filled with a million dollars cash over his table.
“Well?” Manny diverts his gaze over to Tony. “What do you think?”
“What do I think?” Tony repeats, murmuring to himself as he pulls another stack of cash to him. “I don’t think.”
“Really?” Manny raises his brows. “Five years with her and—”
“No, man.” Tony snaps, putting his hands down on the table. “I don’t think it. Don’t want to, okay?”
A small, playful smile forms over Manny’s lips. “I thought you said you were over it, man.”
“Give me five more years, I be over it then.” Tony rolls his eyes, focusing down on the money before him. “How imma gonna do that if you keep talking about her, man?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Manny chuckles. “You just defensive.”
“Shut up, man.” Tony narrows his eyes. “She left me.”
“Elvira left you too.” Manny mentions, sitting up in his seat.
“The fuck are you trying to say, man?” Agitation grows heavily in Tony’s voice. “Why you talkin’ about this?”
“I’m trying to help, man!” Manny laughs, pointing at his chest. “Man to man. Feels good to talk it out, you know?”
“I don’t wanna talk about shit.” Tony snaps a rubber band over his thick stack of one-hundred dollar bills. “Don’t talk to me about her.”
“Elvira?” Manny grins, knowing it’s obviously not who Tony is referring to you.
“No.” Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m sitting here not thinking, not talking about her man. Don’t talk to me like that. I don’t wanna think of her—okay?” Tony puts his hands up in surrender. “She gone. She out of my life now. I live with that for five years, I deal with it.”
“Okay, okay.” Manny nods, popping open the bottle of wine. “I get it man, I do.”
Tony doesn’t answer, keeping his frustration at bay by continuing to focus on counting the amount of money building up in front of him, but it’s Manny who still can’t wipe the grin off his face from looking at Tony.
“So…” Manny begins again, “what if she’s pregnant?”
“Fuck you, man.” Tony huffs loudly, walking away from the table. “Fuck you.”
“What are you gonna do?!” Manny asks, bursting out in laughter. “I just want you to be prepared, man. Anything can happen.”
“Anything can happen?” Tony raises his brows, putting one hand over his forehead and the other on his hip. “We done, man. There no me and her. She don’t want this, she won’t give me no baby over this, okay?” Tony points at the massive stack of cash upon his worktable. “She don’t want my life for no baby.”
“Maybe she wants the baby’s dad to be alive.” Manny shrugs. “You gonna drive your kid to school with a gun in your pocket everyday, man?”
“To protect the kid, yeah.” Tony pats the pistol tucked into the side of his trousers. “What’s the problem?”
“Geez.” Manny frowns, “that bad, huh?”
“Stop talking about her, man. We ain’t ever gonna see each other again.” Tony shakes his head, brushing off the conversation. “No baby, no us, no me and her. How many times I gotta tell you that, man? She hate me. She tell me she never wanna see my face again. You know how long I been seeing her face next to mine? Five years. I don’t care no more.” Tony shrugs his shoulders, moving back towards his table. “Don’t give a shit no more. I got money to make. Life gotta go on.”
~ Reader’s post breakup ~
“Honey, look,” your best friend sighs, inching closer towards on you on her lounge chair by the pool. “If you wanna go back inside, I don’t blame you but we haven’t done anything all morning besides have breakfast.”
“Well, don’t let me hold you back.” You readjust your sunglasses, flipping a page in the fashion magazine you hold in your hands.
“But I want you to come do them with me.” Your best friend whines, tugging on your arm gently. “Come on! We’re right in front of this pool and nobody’s been in it all day, it’s practically calling out my name.”
“You go on in ahead then.” You gesture with one hand, still focused on the magazine. “I’ll join you after.”
“You’ll join me after.” Your best friend repeats in disbelief.
“Mhmm.” You lean back in your lounge chair. “After.”
“After you’re done moping about Tony?” Your best friend sighs.
“I’m not—” you cover your face with the magazine, “—moping about Tony.”
“You totally are.” Your best friend points out. “I mean look at your hands for once, you’re still wearing the jewelry he got you.”
“I’m going to sell them, obviously.” You roll your eyes. “It’s all gold anyways. I’ll buy myself something else.”
“Doubt it.” Your best friend chuckles, sitting back. “Not when they remind you of Tony.”
“I don’t care about Tony anymore or to be reminded of him, let’s get that straight.” You feel your throat immediately begin to tighten with emotion.
“Honey, you really don’t have to say that.” Your best friend tilts her head to face you. “That shit couldn’t have been easy nor does anyone expect you to get over it so quickly.”
“I bet he is, though.” You mumble, throwing your magazine down. “Like I care.”
“But it’s not like you’ll ever know.” Your best friend shrugs. “I mean… You could always ask Manny—”
“No way. Fuck Manny.” You shake your head. “I’ve got no hate for him in my heart but evrytime I look at him, I just think of Tony. He’s the one that introduced me to him in the first place. I’m supposed to go up to him and ask him how my ex-boyfriend is doing? If he misses me?”
“Some things are self explanatory.” Your best friend chuckles. “You don’t need to do all that.”
“And I won’t.” You feel a tear escape the corner of your eye. “Tony and I are over. We’ve been over.”
“For a week.” Your best friend points out. “That’s right around the time most of the hurting comes out to.”
“Whatever.” You scoff, making sure to adjust your sunglasses so your best friend can’t see the tears forming in your eyes. “I tried to reason with him and that’s about the only kind of closure I’m going to get.”
“Yeah, well,” your best friend mutters under her breath, “Tony’s not a man who gives closure for anything.”
“Can we just…?” You sigh shakily, “not mention him or his name anymore? Please. Just please.”
“Of course, yeah. Sorry, honey.” Your best friend pouts back at you. “I just hate seeing you like this, you know? You’re on vacation feeling like absolute shit.”
“That’s what the bar is for, my friend.” You pull off your sunglasses, rubbing your eyes as you sit upright. “And it’s starting to look like I’m everybody’s favourite day drinker.”
