#*imagines this scene with will's shirt completely off* 👀

[rocktheholygrail]

Hannibal 3x06 - “Dolce”

"This is a big Hannigram scene that is a favorite among Fannibals. I just wanna say, first draft, his shirt came off. Totally. I'm always pushing [my homosexual agenda]. I did it to Chucky, why not Hannibal?" -Don Mancini (audio commentary)

#*imagines this scene with will's shirt completely off* 👀 #hannibal #hannibaledit #tvedit #hannibal lecter #mads mikkelsen #will graham #hugh dancy #hannigram #don mancini #horroredit #horror #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #murder husbands #hannibal gifs #hannibal 3x06

[fecto-forgo]

I would like you to info dump about the kirby gijinkas 👀

AVA I LOVE YOU UM UM SO!!!

kirby:just kid stuff like rain boots, hair accessories n overalls, they also have two designs-one for older games n one for newer games!! n a scrapped off old one cuz it looked too fancy </3 also the bag is angel themed bc i thought thatd just look cute ngl

bandana dee:as i said on another post i got inspired by smash dedede having a shirt that rly looks like the beginning of a yukata or a kimono!! also he doesnt have a mouth, design on the right was an early concept lol (by "isn't allowed" on the sheet i mean im not sure if having it over the haori could straight be an insulting mistake or if its just something most people would not think of doing bc why would you) i bullshitted an eye design but my best friend rly liked them so i never changed them lol

marx: i literally finished his final design yesterday.even tho nothing changed i just gave him elf ears bc he looks silly w them lol.anyways its just a jester design tbh? since his hat has two differing patterns i thought itd be neat to add both the sun and the moon from his little villain plan to his outfit (i miss his fluffy hat balls a little though </3) also he has no arms tho his wings can work as them sometimes.bc im a firm believer in always having characters who lack limbs in their original design either not have them or have a fun replacement

elfilin:theyre themed around a more cutesy aesthetic for angels n space! contrasting forgo and elfilis more dark theme of those, also w an inspiration of retro futurism! and yes their outfit is completely stupid and overly complicated thats part of the charm <3 theyre like a scene kid to me.also a little star bc all of kirbys friends get one.fun fact they had 4 beta designs bc nothing looked good

fecto forgo:(sorry for bad pic i need to redo its entire reference sheet) just an hospital gown w medical tomes that werent removed from them (my best friend gave me that idea n what to add lol), i think theyre best described as a blob of weird elfilis slime that can take a humanesque form rather than a human form that can blob, theyre constantly melting n all its veins are visible, theyre v cold to touch n in the tube their body flows in a way that gives them cherub imagery similar to what was intended w canon forgo, also its legs are useless, theyre very weak and unstable and not naturally formed (also since i picture the elfilis split as some uh.physical form?? of disassociative trauma random trivia when they front post game elfilins eyes get replaced w theirs, just for the aesthetic)(credits to my bestie for coming up w that interpretation lol)

shadow kirby:they get two designs like kirby, both inspired off theirs but just like.emo lol.dont ask why their hair started doing that its whatever reason they became purple in canon.they have overalls beneath that coat btw

and miscellaneous designs i havent given a final sheet to yet!! taranza and dark taranza r based off more fantasy victorian (? medieval???) clothing, susie is holographic bc i didnt want to give her gray shading n her limbs r all floaty (i imagine shes always making some weird electric noise due to that), gooey is just like cute tbh? their cape is based off their mock matter form, chuchus hair is based off the shape the octopus species she apparently is has, i dont have any notable commentary for drawcia or claycia (was that her name) other than drawcia is like a paint blob.also claycias supposed to be way chubbier but i underestimated how huge her coat would look.gotta fix that

thats all the ones i have!! GOD it feels good to finally share them lol

#ask #analiceoriginal.png #yes this is all never before seen art i have like 80 kirb drawings lol

[lloydfrontera]

wait but making Noviel stay in Lloyd's room with Javier instead sleeping in his own is genius, after an entire day with Noviel wearing a stuffy helmet that blocks off all of his handsome features, of course Lloyd would get to see him like how the others saw Javier when this scene happened

But of course, the same face but slightly older , and goddamnit i agree so hard on the fact that we think Lloyd's thought process is like:

Lloyd: Javier's already hot, i know that, but OLDER Javier from knight of blood and iron???👀👀💳💥💥💳💥💥💥💳

Hdhdhcbbdlisten i absolutely agree, lloyd, i just think that mr knight of blood and iron javier🤝🤝

Lloyd puts Javier to sleep first so that he and Noviel can talk freely later, and bc it's canon how Javier's Grandmaster senses can hear someone even beyond the rooms of the mansion, it wouldn't be very wise for Lloyd and Noviel to chat while Javier's still awake

Lloyd also definitely most likely uses this time to secretly(openly) stare at Noviel's features and lowkey fanboying inside(he's being so obvious), like imagine if Lloyd knows something like knowing exactly where every single scar is on Noviel from the novel, with Noviel jokingly asking if he wants to see them in person and I'm getting off track but MORE TEASING but it feels 10000000x more powerful bc Lloyd can see Noviel's teasing face

And though none of them noticed, someone's fuming in their sleep msnxnc

ASJKFHKASD YEAH EXACTLY lloyd is fighting for his life every time noviel takes off his helmet, like,,, the intimacy of noviel only showing his face to lloyd (despite it being obviously for practical reasons) would absolutely knock him out ahksjdhkas and there is just,,, just something about a character not showing their face so often that makes it all the more exciting when they do and lloyd definitely goes through that every time ajshda like very day they go out, he srot of forgets and expects noviel to llok exactly like javier and then the night arrives and its just him goin >:O over noviel looking older and more rugged than his own javier ajskdak

also yeah javier would easily be able to listen to them talk if lloyd didn't put him to sleep in his own room. tho i do love the idea of noviel and lloyd making obscure references to things that only they know and it driving javier crazy too ajsdka  ALTHO i was thinking of noviel mentioning something he's expecting to happen, like lupellan or something like that, only for javier to be like "??? what? we already took care of that?" while lloyd makes 'cut it out' signs being him because he sort of forgot to mention it to him and javier being slightly smug over finally knowing something noviel didn't. just a little. akjsdka

AND LLOYD STARING AT NOVIEL OH MY GOD like he'd probably be fascinated by him, because even tho he already knows who noviel is, he still spends more of the day with his face covered so lloyd doesn't get a lot of opportunity to compare him with his own javier. and look he's trying to not be creepy but!!! they're just!! so different and so similar at the same time!! i'm ignoring canon to say noviel has a few more scars than javier does. or well. a lot more. noviel got his assk kicked a lot more than javier did after all. and lloyd is soooo curious about it! like he read the book yeah, but it's completely different to see it in person! and asjsdhska just, noviel catching lloyd staring one time and sort of smirking before asking lloyd if he wants to take a closer look making lloyd go all flustered. GAAHH EVEN BETTER IF HE DOES IT IN FRONT OF JAVIER like imagine if they're in the middle of a construction and noviel takes of his shirt because it is Hot, and besides javier does it too, so its fine right? and lloyd just,,,, Stares, partially because he didn't realize just how much noviel had gone through and how much hardship javier had avoided in part thanks to him and partially because.... hot. and noviel notices and sort of teases him about it but javier is fuming. like it isn't enough for the knight of blood and iron to try to be edgy and mysterious by never taking off his helmet or mask, he also has to be so in shape and have what's probably a tragic past?? this is Bullshit >:[

but them doing in private is sooooooo much, i cannot deal with that i'm gonna explode ajksdhjksa

AND JAVIER BEING ANNOYED EVEN WHILE ASLEEP PLEASEEEE 😭

#hey i got an ask #lunacurse #tged #the greatest estate developer #transcended noviel au #gaaahhh sorry this took so long! i wanted to make a little doodle for it but i have an event in four days and it was a friend's #birthday and just!! everything conspired against me 😔 #i owe you a noviel with helmet hair doodle ajskhdksa #oh i'm also making the character sheet for him! it'll take me a little bit because i wanna give it some extra details but yeah!

[unclekaz]

HELP

Tumblr ate half of my ask, so as I was trying to say before Tumblr silenced me!

Please do elaborate more on the noises Nolan makes 👀 I would like to hear that mentioned again

you know what. that actually sounds like fun, but im gonna have to throw up a suggestive warning because you know. yeaGhm (:

i know ive already made this point a gazillion times but i'll say again: nolan is naturally quiet and cold. a really good example for who he is around people is like a player-controlled character, slightly far too into your comfort zone and just stares at you before leaving. he doesn't really like talking to people in general, he always deliberately chooses each and every word he says, the man is riddled with certainties when it comes to his dialogue because that's just who he is at the surface level.

but the thing about nolan's noises, he's very much vocal when it comes to pain or anything like that. he's incredibly strong but not invincible, you're naturally going to hear him grunting and wincing if he's patching up his own wounds- but i imagine he bites his tongue so he doesn't make any sounds as to signal that he's very vulnerable. despite something like gasping or whimpering coming to him naturally, he purposely shuts down any visible signs of weakness so nobody gets surface level leverage against nolan.

now uh. the things about nolan is that: 1, he's a bottom. he cannot be dominant at all because the only domination he knows is breaking your arm in an interrogation scene- 2, he's completely in the dark when it comes to anything in the bedroom. all he knows is holding hands and giving hugs and maybe satiating his horrible touch-starvation and affection-seeking. so um.

safe to say- if you're hypothetically someone he very much loves and appreciates, you could easily make this tough and brooding man start hyperventilating if you pushed him against a wall, or grabbed his wrists and pinned them together, or even just took off his shirt for him. he gets VERY hot and bothered quickly, so even just something that could initiate intimacy leaves nolan feeling weak in the knees and weaker vocally.

#suggestive #vigilante.txt #just uh. don't get me started on if you ACTUALLY restrained him or anything like that #nolan can't handle even simple gestures of affection #so you could probably guess what would happen if you were very physically imposing towards him #or just very physically charged. #all i can say is expect whimpering. i plead the fifth to anything more saucy.

[bigein]

(to your last post) Arthur touching himself and all but ali catches him and then completely ravishing him and turns him into a over sensitive mess while ali hasn't even finished yet... just saying.

I could see that 👀

I would set the scene with Arthur, so sure that he'll have the flat to himself that evening. Busying himself with housework at first, trying to catch up on to-do list items that he's been putting off for days now. They have both been tired, both busy, and it shows in the laundry piles and the bare cupboards that he'll put off having to deal with. A shower first, and then he'll have a sit and think about what he can scrounge up for a warm meal before Alasdair gets back.

There is only one bathroom in the flat; an en suite. Arthur is months into their living arrangement, learning to tip toe his way in the dark, walking across Alasdair's bedroom to brush his teeth or use the loo long after he's gone to bed. Alasdair has always been a deep sleeper but still— so far they've avoided any real conflict and Arthur's not keen on finding himself out on the street because he accidentally kicked Alasdair awake while trying to take a piss at 3am.

Arthur has been sleeping in Alasdair's living room, and it's good enough. The couch could be worse— and the carpet is worse, stained and textured in bits and spots that Arthur avoids in socked or bare feet— but light streams in through the windows well into the evening, even during these early winter months, and the old radiator does well what Alasdair's threadbare sheets do not: keep him warm.

Still, Arthur misses the even firmness of a mattress; the privacy of a bedroom with a door that locks.

He tells himself that's all there is to it; he's tired, he's sore.

He climbs into Alasdair's bed wearing his clothes.

Alasdair's clothes, Arthur's clothes. He picks them apart and folds them, and fresh from washing they smell the same. They smell the same; plain dove soap and the washing powder Alasdair buys. So it should make no difference, pulling on Alasdair's clothes instead of his own, a too-large shirt and loose cotton boxer briefs.

It does.

The fabric sits on his skin like static. He is hyper-aware of every crease and the way the fabric hangs loose on his frame, the band of the boxers low on his hips. Alasdair left the bed unmade when he left hours ago and so his bedsheets are cold to the touch. The ghost of him lingers pressed into the indent of his pillow and the shape of his body on the mattress. Arthur fits himself against him and tries not to think of it that way; clears his mind until all that is left is the sound of the washing machine, reaching him muffled through the walls and the bedroom door left half-open.

His hand is resting idly on his stomach, fingers tracing mindless shapes. Reaching lower, lower, until his fingertips brush past the hem of his borrowed shirt.

Alasdair has never touched his thighs or the bare stretch of his hips but curled up in his bed it is easy to imagine the way he might. Arthur teases his fingers where he would like to be bruised, letting his finger nails raise gooseflesh in their wake before giving in and cupping himself, thinking of the way Alasdair's cock could tent the fabric he is pressing against the heat of his cunt. It's shameful how hot it gets him to picture just that, Alasdair thick and bulging against the cotton of his boxers, wet at the tip and pulsing for touch. Arthur would like to mouth against him like that; would straddle him and work his hips against the length of him until the cotton was soaked through and Alasdair could feel his lips parting for him. His fingers are a poor substitute for the fantasies his mind spins but they serve him well enough now, hips pulsing to chase the pleasure and mouth parting on a sigh as his free hand comes up to tease his nipples and press down on his collarbones.

He is getting close, his fingers pressing harder, face half-turned into the bedsheets, when the mashing machine falls silent, the end of the cycle announced by three short beeps. It plunges the room into true silence save for the panting of Arthur's breath. Arthur's breath and—

Alasdair stands in the threshold with a slack-jawed expression, arms hanging loosely by his sides, fingers twitching like he can't quite decide what he wants to do with his hands.

Arthur sits up with a start, throwing himself back against the headboard hard enough that he really might bruise. His damp hand he shoves behind himself like that would somehow turn back the clock a minute—two minutes, five. However long Alasdair has stood there barefooted and silent, now stepping into the room first halting then sure-footed.

Arthur is still stuttering out accusations (you were supposed to be at work, why are you— why did you—) when Alasdair climbs on the bed, kneeling over him to box him and asking simply do you want this?

Do you want this? And Arthur is dumbfounded, slack-jawed himself now that Alasdair seems to have gathered his bearings, looking down at him with pupils blown so wide he looks like something wild; barely restrained. Arthur calls his name and feels the tension bleed out from his body; shifts his legs so Alasdair can resettle his weight.

He thinks of the late nights they've spent thigh-to-thigh on the sofa, mindless in the early hours past midnight. Of Alasdair waiting at the bus stop that first night; how study he'd seemed, taking Arthur's duffle bag without a word and offering a coat for him to layer over his threadbare hoodie. This could ruin them; neither have anything to lose. Alasdair is asking; Alasdair would stop this if he asked, if he flinched. Arthur has loved him for longer than he can remember. Maybe always has; suspects he always will.

Yes, he says, and before he can take another breath Alasdair's lips are on his.

Alasdair lifts him like he weighs nothing, manhandling him until he is flat on his back. He wastes no time undressing him, kissing Arthur's chest through the fabric of his shirt and rucking it up only when he wants to nip at his ribs. He is rough from the start, bringing Arthur to a peak with only his knuckles to buck against. The next finds him trying to close his thighs in vain while Alasdair rubs three of his fingers in tight, rolling circles that should hurt but don't, if only for the mercy of the cotton that softens his touch.

When he stops, Arthur thinks it's to chase his own high and he is moving to offer his hands, his mouth, when Alasdair puts an end to it by flipping him onto his front and pushing his chest low against the mattress, his hips high. Alasdair pulls the boxers halfway down his thighs and wrings another orgasm out of him with two fingers that feel like four, so much broader than his own and three knuckles deep inside him. When his legs give out he's on his back before he can protest, Alasdair's mouth chasing the soreness away until he's sobbing and cumming with a weak pulse of his hips against his tongue.

Alasdair lets him go with one last sucking kiss against his cock, then trails his hot, swollen lips in easy paths up his hips so he can rest his head on Arthur's stomach, nose buried against his shirt.

I like you in my clothes, he whispers hoarsely, and Arthur thinks he should say something back but cannot find his voice. He buries his fingers in Alasdair's thick, auburn hair instead and scratches gently at the roots until the big oaf sighs with something like relief.

#context: they have been living together for some time in this AU #they have a long and complicated relationship but in short #Alasdair takes Arthur in and shenanigans ensue #arthur is going to have to wash those sheets twice because alasdair has his turn later that night #he's inconsiderate like that fahfhga #scoteng #hws england #hws scotland #i should also add that this is a human AU #aph england #aph scotland #not s*fe for tumblr #this is barely a drabble ksks more a thought scribbled down quickly before bed

[beta-adjacent]

U have oc's? Can we hear about them? 👀

-pin3-vin3

MWAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA YOU FELL INTO MY TRAP!!!!!!! YES ABSOLUTELY YOU CAN HEAR ABOUT THEM OKOKOKOKOKP

So!!!!!!! Y’all need context. Game Grumps. Y’all know of them, remember them? It doesn’t matter if you actually do, all that does matter is that you know I’ve loved them since I was a kid. I mean, I don’t watch their shit a lot nowadays but if there’s one series I almost Always try to keep up with its their horse girl games. The genre of horse girl games are Fascinating to me. I’ve never seen a play through that actually made it to the end of one, because the end is Never the point of a horse girl game. The point is making your dream horse, riding through open maps, grooming your dream horse, completing useless side quests, bonding with your dream horse!!!!! And Game Grumps is especially great at recognizing that because improv just tends to go off the rails in those games. And everytime I watch a horse girl game they play, and listen to the silly voices they do, I think about my own fictional horse girl universe.

So, introducing!!!!!!!!!

Camila

Lemme break down the character.

At this phase, Camila is ≈12 years old, a prime time of the horse girl phase

In fact, she’s the main protag of a horse girl game (assuming I ever made this into a playable game lol)!!!

What’s the catch? She actually had her horse phase a Wayyyyyyyyyyy long time ago. Horses are for babies. Now she’s knee-deep in her emo emo phase. Gerard Way is her boyfriend and you can’t tell her otherwise. She writes bad FanFiction.net fanfics instead of doing her homework (A/N: n her 30 followurz LUV it!! >w<) . She even dyed her “scene kid” hair with Koolaid in secret…. Until it didn’t wash off in the sink 30 minutes later. It wasn’t so secret then.

All of this “rebellion” leads Camila’s mom to enroll her in a summer camp for horse riders. Does the mom actually enroll her because she doesn’t know how to connect to her kid and her new interests? Was this actually a camp the family saved up for years for Camila to go to, and aren’t going to let the money go to waste? Is the mom just looking for a way to get rid of her kid for the summer? …I have no clue yet.

But yes, as you’d imagine, Camila goes to this horse rider’s camp for the summer and meets generic friends and she kind of hates them all at first but slowly grows to realize they’re ok. And she does end up still loving her horse and having a lot of knowledge on them (even though it turns out she’s Really bad at riding them). And there’s a Nancy Drew-ass, save-the-animals plot that happens along the way because it’s a fucking horse girl game godammit!!!!

Point is that Camila is my humorous take of a horse girl game protag that I’d actually want to play as (because I hate self-inserts, sorry). She’s a fucking snot because she’s a 12 year old who thinks she knows how the world works.

Fashion note: she tries to have the emo fashion but she fails spectacularly. Honestly she shouldn’t even have the Paramore shirt, but the pink not-matching-at-all hoodie is accurate. Maybe she got the one band tee for Christmas from her cool aunt, and it's become a bit of a comfort item

So, my horse girl game takes place in 2006, ironically the summer right before the Wii launches (which is where a lot of these games are born). Camila has, and frequently uses, AOL (before it dies in late 2008ish). And there's one, single, archaic computer at the local library outside of the horse camp that she visits every week for her free hours.

So every week she talks to her online BFF…..

Journee

Yes folks, that is indeed “Journey” with two ‘e’s. I think the name is cringe too, but I've kept it ever since I made them back in 2017, which is an extremely rare case for me, and I treasure that. Journee's actually part of an independent story from Camila (who was made in 2022). The intention with Journee has always been an emo who couldn’t actually look emo because their parents would kill them if they did.

But that gimmick is what makes Journee's inclusion in the horse girl game the crossover of a lifetime. Because Camila and Journee both need a friend who was also into emo shit, to fuel each other's obsession with it. Journee especially needs it because they canonically grow up to fulfill their emo fantasies (I haven't decided if Camila does the same). So the two work great for each other's individual stories.

Here’s how Journee's adapted into the Horse Girl Game AU:

In the original story, Journey is a whopping 14.5 years old, a freshman in high school. In this story, they're ≈12 years old. Older than Camila but honestly not by much, maybe 4 months!

A BIG fan of emo shit but their parents (obviously) won’t let them do anything. They think, "Camila’s lucky; at least Camila’s dad actually buys her Koolaid". Journee doesn't know Camila's dad actually bought it for her younger brother, and she stole it. But still, it's the principle! All Journee has is this gross tea their mom always makes to “promote more collagen” or whatever

Speaking of, Journee is one of those kids who got acne immediately as puberty started, and is absolutely going to gain acne scars as they grow up because they keep scratching at it.

Camila and Journee are online friends exclusively for an extremely long time; they met through a fanfic site a few months before the events of the horse girl game. Years later, they realize they actually lived embarrassingly close the whole time. They hang out a lot in-person in late high school, and then become mostly online friends again as they enter the adult world.

Note on the pronouns: I use they/them exclusively for Journee because Journee has always been one when I've written them. We're at a tricky spot in Journee's timeline because they are 12, nearly three years before their gender crisis-- meaning, they wouldn't be using they/them pronouns at this age. But I don't know what Journee's agab is; all I know is that when Camila befriends them, they pretend to be the opposite gender for a while. Just, tl;dr-- If I were ever to make the game, Journee's name wouldn't be Journee and they wouldn't be using they/them yet, but it absolutely still is Journee.

And in case you were interested, here's a rough idea of what they look like grown up (around 20s?). Camila I'm still questioning what route I wanna take with her, but I have a Very specific design for Journee and this piccrew does NOT do it justice. But I still need you to understand their dynamic is exactly the fucking same as it was when they were twelve and it's Hilarious.

These are not my first OCs by far but they're the ones I've cared about most recently (this crossover idea only happened maybe... a month ago? So the hype is still fresh). If you're interested in them, their stories, or any other characters I've made, lemme know! None of my characters/stories are particularly deep or insightful, but I still love them.

And here's the piccrews I used because I hate when people don't include links for that shit.

The solos

The group

#OCs #chai rl #FUCK YEAAAAAAAAAaaA #Journee-OC #Camila-OC #anon #ask

[jjungkookislife]

I finally had the time to read Bad Decisions and I read it as soon as I woke up. This might look all over the place cause as I read the story, I wrote in My Notes the comments and reactions I had of the scenes so sorry ‘bout that 😅

i want to have MC and Jimin’s friendship where they are so close that she can just casually wax his junk when he asks. That’s real friendship right there. Love that lol 😂

Also, Spider 🥹 that sassy and bratty cutiepie but she loves Yoongi more which was sad yet hilarious but honetly, same 🤷‍♀️

The matching shirts 🥺 they’re like a whole-ass family 🥰 plus possible matching tattoos of their fur baby’s initials? 😩

Orange haired Yoongi 👀

These two were so adorable. They get along really well together, they were practically bf&gf by the time they became Spidey’s pur parents 🙄😂

AND MATCHING SWIMSUITS?!? So adorable 😩

Idk if I’m stupid or what but I’m having difficulty imagining this scene: “You turn to look at Yoongi but he’s engrossed in a conversation, his phone in a woman’s lap.” Is it like Yoongi holding his phone and that hand that is holding his phone, is on the woman’s lap? Cause idk why the phone would be on the woman’s lap. This isn’t really a big deal, I’m just curious 😂

Jikook flirting 🥴🤭🫣

Wait, forget my question above. I understood it now. He was showing them pics in his phone. Stupid me, this is why I should really shut up and finish reading first before having questions 🙄

Yoongi being so clueless when he practically was showing off pics of MC and their cat together with him looking like a happy family, like it’s completely normal for “just roommates” 😂 Both of them are ignorant fools, just date already 😤

Yoongi admitting he had feelings for her when he moved in or maybe even before that 🥺

I love how he is so casually just calling her princess. Cute 🥺

MC simping on how pretty Yoongi is and how soft and fluffy his hair looks. Same girl 😉 I also want to run my fingers through his hair 🫣

Spider ruining their moment 😂

Ah, I love this Jimin 🥰 he’s that type of chaotic bff that also loves to meddle especially since he knows that they both like each other but just won’t see it and that there won’t be any progress if he doesn’t do anything. He represents us readers who wants to just make them kiss already 😂

Long and Shaggy Black-haired Yoongi 🙃

Yoongi asking her on a date and being all shy and nervous about it 🥺

Yoongi’s visuals in this fic is just 🤤

Their date was so 😍 their interactions were so cute, can’t get enough of them ☺️

But then they went to the bar/club and things finally got more interesting 👀

The first kiss 🫣

FINALLY! The confessed 🥹😭

That “Always,” from Yoongi 🫠

And then there’s Spider, ruining the moment again cause she’s HUNGRY 😂

I love every moment when they finally did the deed. As always, it was both 🤤🥴😛 and 🫠🥺☺️ and I AM ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE WITH THEM 🥰 They just became part of my list of fav couples in your works too, man the list is getting long 😅

And the last part where Jimin walks in the apartment while they’re doing the nasty and takes her “cat niece” to get her away from there was so hilarious 😂 he was like, nope, this is not the kind of environment she should be in 🤣

All in all, this was an amazing read as always. I know I’ll never get disappointed with your writing. Good job in making me fall in love with your stories and its characters, AGAIN. And also, sorry if this is so chaotic cause I literally just woke up when I read this and honestly just wrote what I felt about the scenes 😂 I hope you didn’t overwork yourself with this one, take care always ☺️

Spoiler warnings for Bad Decisions!

I’m so glad you were able to read it so soon (ah as soon as you woke up!) 💜 ah Jimin and oc are something else lol I don’t think I could ever help someone wax 🤣

I love that you mentioned Spider being bratty bc she’s based off my cat lmao she’s a cutie but man she’s got an attitude and I love her for it but yes I am constantly fighting for her attention cause she loves my husband more 🥲

I think they’re next tattoos will be Spider’s paw print on their rib cage 😭 and orange haired Yoongi! I will never get over him 😭 and i totally brainstormed most of this at work and the matching swimsuits had to be included cause it gives couple vibes before they’re a couple and Yoongi was already so into her that he couldn’t say no and he didn’t want to say no bc everyone at the party would see they were matching like a COUPLE and know she was his 😭 (or assume at least and who’s he to correct them 👀)

No i totally get it! I reread it and I could have written that better lol but yeah he was showing everyone pictures of oc and spider when they’d stop to chat and they’d be like oh he’s taken 😅

Ah i live for the soft moments between them and of course jikook flirting at the party and Jimin being nosy. I think I project a lot onto Jimin just bc I’m nosy af and I like including myself that way 🤣

I’ve been working on this for months and every time Yoongi posted with his hair getting longer I just lost it and I HAD TO INCLUDE IT IN THE FIC plus cat!dad Yoongi dyeing his hair to match his kittys fur 😻

Yes! Him asking trying to be casual about it like ha it’s just dinner but if you say date I’m in lol im so bad at writing first dates or dates in general lmao but I tried to give them the best opportunity to kiss and get together and writing about the ride HOME and Yoongi’s hand on her thigh 😭😭😭😭

Lmao Spider ruining the moment is everything! She’s like hello, you’ve been gone for a few hours I require treats and attention and then she’ll sleep for twelve hours straight 🤣

I definitely think they’re one of my favorite couples know as well! They were fun to write for and I hope I can write a little drabble later on with Spider in it as well lol

Ah yes that was written before I even started the story. Another idea I had while at work lmao Jimin just coming over unannounced and lettting HIMSELF in bc what could they be doing lmao certainly not THAT lmao he was in shock! And he scooped his cat niece out of there 🏃🏻 I imagine Jimin would text oc and Yoongi once he gets home with a picture of Spider calling them nasty or maybe he sends a video of him baby talking to Spider saying “yeah your parents are nasty aren’t they, poor baby. You live here now” 🤣

Thank you so much! I always look forward to your reviews 💜 I’m so glad you enjoyed it and I hope you stay safe and get lots of rest 💜💜

#sweet feedback 💖 #b mail 💌 #bad decisions asks

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 24 - Aphrodisiac.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 23 [AO3] / Tumblr / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

Your sexual attraction and arousal to Michael has always known no end as the two of you have shared a mutual, passionate love filled with desire throughout your marriage. From sensual love making to fiery sloppy sex, you explore the intricacies of the intimate side of your marriage with Michael over the years. Having memorized each other's bodies, eager to please and still wanting more, you've always found yourself ensnared in the eroticism that is Michael Corleone.

[WARNINGS]: Heavy, detailed smut/sex, masturbation, squirting, strip tease, one-time daddy kink.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Chapter 24 is finally here!! It took a little longer than usual considering the plot and the detail needed throughout 👀 and life of course gets busy, but here it is!! Very much anticipated, an "inbetween chapter" focused solely on smut and the sex lives the reader has had with Michael throughout their entire relationship. Very, very explicit and smutty. 😳🤞 It's pretty hard to find any gifs/pics that go with this chapter, but they're close enough to help at least imagine the scenario, so ignore Apollonia in that second one lmao 🤣 but take Michael's looks in that scene into consideration. 😋

[SUGGESTIONS:] Anons for requesting: Car sex / Smut from Michael's perspective x2 @ronniekayy / Shower sex / Michael watching you touching yourself / Wearing nothing but one of Michael's shirts / Being clingy with Michael / Strip tease in lingerie to Michael / Sex on the floor / Sex in front of the mirror. / Reverse cowgirl x2 / Michael calling the reader "darling" more / Michael calling the reader "kitten" again / Accidentally calling Michael "daddy" during sex / Having the best orgasm ever with Michael easing the reader through it 😳

1949. Your name is Victoria Ferrari, and you’re the only daughter of one of the most powerful mafia families in New York—the Ferrari’s. When the Ferrari family began to gain heavy influence and power, it struck a power imbalance with the Corleone’s. To bind the families together as one in an offering of peace, friendship and business, you are to be married to their youngest son, Michael Corleone. As you ensnare yourself in the life of a mob wife by Michael’s side, what you don’t know is his old ties with Kay Adams, your best friend from Dartmouth, and that he returned from Sicily a widower. A ruthless mob boss to be, you unravel Michael’s dark past and the brutality that has changed his personality. You find yourself adapting to your new life, betrayed by those you love most, and in high profile to Ferrari and Corleone family enemies. Falling deeply in love with Michael, you enter a life and marriage filled with secrets and darkness. Bearing his children, supporting his crime empire and following him into the shadows, you’re unable to deny your passion and desire to the new Don. When it comes to Michael Corleone, you are but a moth to a flame.

7:04 AM meant wrinkled satin bedsheets, arched pillows, tousled hair, and the scent of tobacco-vanilla cologne into the fleece blanket that hangs loosely off Michael’s waistline. Michael lounges in bed, sprawled out naked underneath the blankets as he leans his back against a propped-up pillow. He rests one elbow upon the bed while smoking his Camel filter-free cigarette in the other.

Michael’s dark hair is ruffled and fluffy, hanging over his forehead with his stubble grown in. His day off from all business matters leaves room for such relaxation and appearances—completely comfortable with it only in your presence.

Michael slips his cigarette back loosely in the center of his lips, taking a drag as his eyes glance to the bathroom door. The only sound he hears is that of the shower’s running water cutting off as you step out, exhaling deeply as warm steam surrounds you as you push aside the shower curtains.

Grabbing your towel off the counter and wrapping it over your body, you flip your hair down and twist a towel through it, wiping off the excess moisture from your face. Getting into your bath slippers, you push open the door back to the bedroom only to immediately feel a rush of warmth from the blush hitting your cheeks at the sight of Michael.

Michael blows out smoke from his cigarette around him, his eyes finding yours as you stand across from him by the doorway, giving him a shy smile. A relaxed Michael indulged in comfort is a rare sight you can very much count on your fingers, which he otherwise notes to himself as “laziness” and “unacceptable.”

“Good morning, darling,” His sleep-laced voice croaks out to you as he takes his cigarette out of his lips.

“Morning, mio amore.” You blush back, feeling the urge to run your fingers through his silky, fluffy hair as you step down and make your way over to his side of the bed.

You pout back at Michael, glancing at his cigarette, “what did I say about these in the morning?”

“Just one, darling.” He murmurs back to you as you lean down, pecking a kiss on his lips.

“Just one.” You repeat back with a smile, unable to keep yourself annoyed or mad at him in any way. “Are you drinking enough water?” You make your way over to your vanity table, leaning your head down as you ruffle through your soaked hair.

“Mhmm…” Michael yawns, covering his mouth and looking over at his half-empty glass of water over his end table, knowing you’re mentioning it for his diabetes. “You’re taking care of me.”

“Always, baby.” You squeeze out the tips of your hair into your towel, raising your head back up. “Are you going to wash up before breakfast?”

“Absolutely.” Michael clears his throat, taking a short drag. “I wouldn’t even let the twins see me like this.” He gestures up to his stubble and hair.

“Because the twins are important business partners that need to see you in a silk three-piece suit, right?” You joke back, setting your hair towel aside.

“Exactly that.” Michael runs a hand over his stubble.

Michael purses his lips open as if to say something, his attention immediately diverting to your body, admiring the way water droplets drip down your breasts and how the sun gleams over your skin through the chiffon curtains.

Noticing his eyes upon you and flustered with blush, you slowly trail the towel over your thighs and lower back, drying yourself off as Michael has a perfect view of all that you have to offer. Michael holds his cigarette up between his fingers, fixated on you as his chestnut eyes dart up and down your body.

While seeing Michael indulging in comfort seems to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience to note, his expression and the look in his eyes at the sight of you naked is one you’ve come to see almost daily for the past five years.

The butterflies you felt pulling in your gut the very first time he undressed you on your wedding night returned every single time, stronger in how they mixed with your emotions and caused your heart to race.

Michael’s look upon you was filled with desire, possessive at the very least. He gazed upon you with a dominance that assured him you were all his to adore, his to touch, and his to be with. Those very dark eyes of his undressed you with each look and spoke more than words could ever say.

In business, with strangers, long-time friends, or rivals, his eyes remained dead and emotionless. He was soulless in a sense to others, both intentionally and unintentionally. He was unreadable—none could figure out how he felt or what he was thinking. His body language was locked in a monotone state that intimidated overall, showing the presence and control of the Don.

Those dark, Sicilian eyes only ever softened with you and the twins, revealing an emotionally vulnerable side of him he swore to guard and never let down since Apollonia’s death. Those same eyes were constantly over all of you that admired you as his wife, confidant, best friend, and lover. What Michael never admitted or said, his eyes would for him.

Completely dried off with your towel-dried hair hanging down your shoulders, you begin to fold up the towels, shyly glancing up at him as you notice the growing lust in his gaze.

The sexiness with Michael’s “lazy” state is something else entirely. Complete eye candy for you and only being reserved for you made it almost exciting in a way to see. Michael, in a way, was revealing how comfortable he was with you, never having done so back in New York.

He would always be the first one awake, and by the time you were properly awake, he’d already have picked out a suit for the day with his hair gelled back to slick, neat perfection. You only remember one occasion where you shaved his stubble for him; the only explanation for his withdrawn shyness at the time being he didn’t want you to think poorly of him.

Michael was used to impressions in every and anything. Connie had told you he had even attended her wedding to Carlo in his army uniform. He was in a three-piece suit when the twins were born, and you never saw a single stain or fleck of dust upon any of his clothes.

Still, just as much as the sight of business-mode Don Corleone turned you on to no avail, so did bedroom Michael Corleone. Only you were able to run your hands through his soft, never greasy locks of hair, kiss him upon the tip of his Roman nose first thing in the morning, and press your bare chest up against his.

Simple pleasures and soft moments, they were, but ones that never failed to remind you just how in love you were with Michael Corleone and how such love had never waned over five years, only continuing to radiate in how it grew and surprised you so.

“Come here…” Michael beckons with his hand, straightening his back by pushing up from both his elbows.

“A girl can’t dress in peace anymore?” A playful grin spreads over your lips as you cover your front with the towel, coming back to him.

Michael tugs the towel off of you, throwing it aside as he grasps both of your wrists. “I said come here…” With a pull towards him, Michael snakes an arm around your waist and takes you back into bed as you roll over him.

You gasp out in surprise, giggling as he immediately moves over, hovering over top of you and pinning your arms down to the bed. “Michael!”

“Don’t make me repeat myself again, Mrs. Corleone.” Michael’s voice remains husky and low.

“My apologies, Don Corleone.” You purr back out, taking the opportunity to run your hands throughout his messy hair. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good girl.” The fleece blanket barely covering Michael’s manhood slips off as he presses his body up against yours—hot skin on skin—as you whimper out softly, almost embarrassed at how quickly you’ve gotten aroused in the morning.

You shiver at the touch of his warm leaving a soft trail of kisses upon the outline of your jawline. The touch of his erect cock against your entrance easily triggers your arousal as you feel your wetness begin to grow between your thighs.

Michael trails his hands from your collarbones down to your hips, massaging with gentle pressure as he goes down to feel every inch of you lovingly. The lust in Michael’s eyes is undeniable as he presses his lips up to your skin—his kissing gradually growing sloppy over your neck.

You bite down on your lip to stifle out your moans, already feeling your body throbbing for him. Michael’s touch is addictive and almost electric in the way it sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Coupled with your severe attraction towards Michael, you know he’s got you wrapped around his finger without even trying. You easily submit to him, almost wanting to beg out for him to never stop touching you.

“There’s still an hour before we have to be down.” Michael breathes out, pulling the blankets over the two of you. “So who says I can’t have you all to myself until then?”

“You’re going to tease me before breakfast?” You bite your lip as Michael’s tongue kisses over your stomach.

He breathes hotly over your pussy as, in reaction, you spread your legs eagerly. “I have something better in mind.”

You could care less about the time or making it down for breakfast; all you want to do is get lost in his embrace, drown in his kisses, ache in his touch and make love to your husband—Michael Corleone.

~

[ June 1954 ]

The windows of your Alfa Romeo are rolled down, letting in the soft summer breeze flow through your hair—a break from the gleaming sun as you and Michael make rounds amongst the Lake Tahoe compound.

Stretched out with five kilometers leading up to the front gates, the roadway is completely clear, providing ample space for you and Michael to get around—finally, spending some time in your own vehicle.

You’ve spent a vast majority of your time with bodyguards and a private chauffeur to and from places, leaving your Alfa Romeo mostly untouched unless you were with Michael or any of your (including in-law) brothers.

That meant trips to and from Reno with the kids and your brothers or packing the back seat with Tom, Sonny, and Fredo, who complained the entire time of where they wanted to go and couldn’t sit still without smacking each other.

Since marrying Michael, you rarely ever drove, let alone completely by yourself—much of which didn’t make sense, nor did it bother you until you learned of the reason for Michael’s uneasiness. He hadn’t explicitly told you, nor did he let you know he was unnerved with you driving alone and without supervision, but his brief explanation of how his deceased wife—Apollonia—had died told you everything.

A car bomb. You figured to yourself that maybe the bomb had gone off when she started up the car, or it was triggered when she opened the door, possibly the trunk, stepped on the breaks, or simply just started driving.

Either way, you knew, and as sad as it was to know, you remained appreciative to know how thoughtful and caring Michael was—how cautious he was towards you and your safety. It wasn’t a problem for you at the end of the day, and he had never turned you down for a drive around the compound or to Reno when the two of you had the time and day to spare.

You giddily curl up to Michael on the passenger side of the seat—his one arm wrapped around your shoulder lovingly as he casually drives with the other, steering the wheel.

It’s not the lake and blooming greenery around you that holds your attention, but rather that of your husband—business mode Don Corleone nowhere to be found, replaced by Michael Corleone, who spends the remainder of his afternoon with you.

You bite your lip, unable to focus on the road as you fixate your gaze upon Michael—knowing whether it’s intentional or not, you always find yourself unable to avoid the sight of him for long.

Rays of the sun reflect in Michael’s chestnut eyes, bringing an illuminating light to his distracted, stern gaze. The flowing breeze flows through his brushed and parted hair that hangs over his temples—one of your favorite sexy yet casual styling for his hair that you got to comb through yourself in the morning.

White dress shirt, black tie, and matching trousers to complement and match with your lacy, knee-length white dress, your day consists of having Michael all to yourself, only wishing to yourself that it could last forever.

“Mi lascerai mai guidare?!” (Will you ever let me drive?!) You beam back at him as he steps on the gas, slightly picking up speed down the driveway.

“Ho visto come guidi.” (I’ve seen how you drive.) Michael shoots you a disapproving playful look, “Too fast, as usual.”

“Aww! Sei troppo lento! Dovresti lasciarti insegnare alcune cose!” (You’re too slow! You should be taught a thing or two!) You laugh back, gazing up at him.

“Stai insinuando che vuoi insegnarmi a guidare?” (Are you implying that you want to teach me to drive?) Michael glances back at you, unable to hold back, cracking a smile at your giggling disposition.

“Maybe!” You rake a hand through your hair, giving your head a little shake as you place both of your hands over his upon the steering wheel. “Almeno accelera, amore mio! Puoi andare più veloce di così!” (At least speed up, my love! You can go faster than that!)

“Va bene, va bene.” (Alright, alright.) Michael chuckles, gradually picking up more speed. “Sit back; I don’t want you close to the windshield.”

“Ti preoccupi troppo per me. Sto bene!” (You worry too much about me, I’m fine!) You whine back in a playful voice.

“Sì, perché non riesci nemmeno a tenere gli occhi sulla strada.” (Yes, because you can’t even keep your eyes on the road.) Michael notices your longing gaze, teasing you.

The sight of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows as he grips the steering wheel with his gold watch over his wrist and wedding band adorning his fingers is entirely something else to behold, let alone the way he speaks through his velvety voice and those full lips.

Keeping yourself as composed as you can, you still find it hard not to think about how those slim fingers slicked in and out of you just last night, rubbing over your sensitive clit as his mouth worked his magic over the rest of your body.

Blushing deeply at Michael’s comment as if he’s just read your mind, you gently squeeze at his hands, helping him steer to take a right turn. “Non faccio niente del genere! You couldn’t have made that right turn without me!” (I do no such thing!)

“Molto divertente.” (Very funny.) Michael comments, a grin forming over his face as you giggle back. “Vuoi che ti porti da qualche parte?” (Do you want me to take you somewhere?)

"Abbiamo tempo?" (Do we have time?) You peek up at him.

“No, but I can always find time for you.” Michael raises your hand up to his mouth, giving it a small kiss. "Cosa vuoi fare?" (What do you want to do?)

"Proprio ora? Voglio solo ammirarti." (Right now? I just want to admire you.) You lean up to him, planting a tender kiss upon his cheek—taking in the scent of both his cologne and aftershave. “Ti faccio sorridere, vero?” (I have you smiling, don’t I?)

“Is that what you wanted out of me all day?” Michael reaches his hand back to you, caressing at the side of your face as he begins to slow down.

Michael begins to press down on the breaks, coming to a full stop before he can even decide to drive back up. He immediately comes to notice how you’ve taken his fingers into your mouth from caressing your face, sucking upon them gently between your lips.

“Cosa stai—” (What are you—) His surprised yet amused gaze meets yours as you peek back at him shyly, continuing to slowly, teasingly suckling.

"Maybe you should stop the car." You pause, continuing to hold up Michael’s hand to your mouth while reaching over with your free hand to gently tug on his tie.

Michael purses open his lips as if to say something for a moment, keeping quiet. You notice his pupils dilate at the sudden eroticism that’s caught him by surprise—lust beginning to fill in his eyes.

“Victoria—” Michael stops the car, turning it off with his key—at this point, clearly distracted by your quick attempt on seduction.

His gaze cautiously examines both of your surroundings, knowing the gates to the compound and residency are almost five kilometers of a drive back, and the two of you remain surrounded by the vegetation and scenery of the forest.

Peeking back at him with provocative eyes, you continue licking and sloppily kissing around his fingers, “there’s nobody here, and we both know that… It’s nothing but forest for miles. Who do you think would be watching us?”

“Watching?” Michael murmurs, trailing his fingers down your lips. “Watching just what, exactly?”

Reveling in the privacy that the outdoors and your Alfa Romeo offer you, it was Michael, after all, that coaxed out your sexual confidence in where he fucked and made love to you. He had taken you completely by surprise as a result of the way and places he chose to have sex with you.

You and Michael consummated your marriage as he took your virginity upon your first, new bed as a couple at your manor back in New York. Just days later, he took out the frustrations of his sexual tension by fucking you over his office desk as your family right downstairs, unaware their new son-in-law was pounding their daughter like a ragdoll. Your sex life, if anything, can never be described as dull or vanilla.

Insisting on getting you pregnant as soon as possible, Michael fucked you mercilessly over and over again to breed you afterward, leaving you flustered, moaning his name, and filled to the brim with his cum without spilling a single drop.

Michael bounced you up and down on his cock like a desperate whore when you groaned out his name, begging for more, pleading you simply couldn’t get enough as you rode him. Your skin slapped upon Michael’s as your hips went up and down in a steady rhythm—his rigid cock filling you again and again.

He let you grow desperate enough that you crawled over the floor and clutched onto his lap while Michael was on a business call, more than ready to beg before he tied your wrists up to the armchair and fucked you senseless again and again.

The first time you took advantage of outdoor privacy was that of what your residence’s pool offered you, eagerly taking Michael’s cock to the back of your throat before having every inch of him inside of you within the water.

You knew then, as you know now, nothing, and nobody else, could ever please you and memorize every inch of your body—what made you cum, what made you writhe underneath him—other than Michael Corleone.

“Watching this…” Only continuing to be turned on by his expression, you take it as a green light to tease him further.

You pull up your knee-length, grey, plaid skirt to your inner thighs to expose your satiny-white panties, flashing them to Michael. You ride your skirt up completely to reveal your white stockings and garter-belt as you kick off your beige kitten heels, pulling your knees up to your thighs.

“Victoria…” Michael’s eyes flicker down to your thighs, gazing at your panties sticking from your wetness to your pussy lips down to the way your silky stockings adorn your thighs.

With your arousal soaking through your panties, Michael feels his erection growing against the tent of his briefs, unable to pull his eyes off of the erotic sight.

Spreading your thighs open as far as you can over your seat, you pull at the waistband of your panties from the middle, only causing the fabric over your slit to push in further to expose your lips. “I told you…”

You clasp your hand over his, instead placing it over your inner thigh—only the coolness from the metal of Michael’s wedding band upon your warm skin, growing hotter with your increasing arousal. “Nobody can see us or hear us here. It’s perfect…”

Michael doesn’t pull his hand back or grab at the fabric of your skirt to pull it down—his eyes catching a glimpse of your panties sliding off to the side. Your reddened, sensitive clit peeks out from between the fabric.

You lock eyes with Michael—a strained sexual tension heavily growing between the two of you as the only sound in the vehicle remains to be both of you breathing. “Are you going to take me home looking like this?”

His expression is torn between scolding you and giving in all at once. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“You know I won’t wait until then.”

“Didn’t have enough of me this morning, I see.” Michael lowers his tone to a husky whisper as he gently squeezes your thigh, trailing his hand down to your stockings before playing with the garter belt. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His dark eyes meet up with yours again.

“If I say it is?” Your cheeks flush scarlet at his expression, your heart already pounding in your chest from his reaction and your shyness flaring up.

Five years past or not, you know you’ll never get used to the smoldering, possessive gaze of Michael Corleone, clothed or unclothed. Not when you had first met him in Vito’s office, not when he approached you on your wedding night, and not when he’s fucking you in the back of your Alfa Romeo.

“All the better if you admit it to me.” Michael hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling you closer to him over your seat. In an instant, Michael’s hand is wrapped around your throat—causing you to gasp out in surprise as he slightly applies pressure over the side of your neck. “Though the sight of you like this says quite enough…” The muscles in Michael’s arms tense as he tilts your chin to face him directly, assertively speaking back to you as his eyes darken with lust. “Get in the backseat, now.”

Feeling a rush of excitement hit you, you nod back at him frantically, still nibbling over your lip as he grasps both sides of your hips for the sake of your balance.

Crawling over the center armrest with the fabric of your skirt falling back down to cover your ass, Michael instantly snatches it down, forcing it off your legs as you eagerly kneel over to the backseat—causing you to giggle out. He’s giving you the exact reaction you’ve wished for.

Throwing your skirt back onto the passenger seat, Michael holds you down over the armrest before you can crawl onto the backseat. He smacks your ass harshly, causing you to gasp out in surprise.

Michael is all over you in a split second, pinning you down between the two back seats as you let out a breathy moan—feeling his bulging erection brushing up against your clit from his dress pants.

Michael clasps a hand over your mouth, muffling out your moans as he unbuttons his trousers with the other just enough to pull out his fully erect cock. You grin against his slim fingers at the height of your arousal as you continue to spread your legs further apart from him.

“Next time, you can admit to me like a whore when you want my cock.” Michael’s hair dangles over his forehead as he grunts, snatching your panties completely off to the side as he taps the shaft of his cock over your pussy—slapping over your clit.

He slides his fingers down your face, gripping it as he gives it a little shake, hovering over you. “I’m taking you straight home after this, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You whine back out playfully, bucking your hips up to his.

Slicking his shaft down your wet slit once more, Michael angles his hips down to your entrance—keeping his gaze over yours. Letting go of your face, he squeezes at your breasts, clasping a grip over them as he thrusts into your pussy with a grunt. “You fucking tease…”

“Oh, yes! Yes!” Feeling Michael’s cock slam into you with ease through how soaked you’ve become from your arousal, you let out a loud moan from the initial penetration and tilt your head back, leaning it against the door.

“Oh—look at how fucking wet you are already…” Every nerve in your body feels as if it’s on fire from your arousal being satiated by all eight inches of him, fucking you perfectly in a steady rhythm that only increases in pace by the minute. “Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll gag it next.” Michael hisses back to you, grabbing at your chin. Strands of his hair come loose over his forehead with each hardened thrust, continuing to push your back up to the door with his roughness.

Already lost in the haze of ecstasy, any notion of keeping quiet has flown out the window with heated desire pulling at your gut—unsatiable for more of Michael. Something about the sight of him still fully dressed, gripping you to a submissive position, only continues to fuel your arousal. Shakily clutching onto Michael’s dress shirt, you whimper underneath him, under his complete mercy.

“You better hope—” A groan escapes Michael’s lips as he rakes a hand through his hair. “—that Sonny and Sandra don’t return before we do.”

“Why would I care?” You pant, gazing back down at Michael’s cock sloppily fucking in and out of your dripping sex.

“Have a little shame, huh? Tsk, tsk.” Michael lowers his voice down to a husky tone, gripping back at your throat.

You groan in Michael’s mouth, letting his tongue intertwine with yours in the feverish kiss. He holds you against his lips as your thighs begin to quiver upon the car seat, your orgasm dangerously close to its breaking point.

Michael’s harsh kisses trailing around the corners of your mouth turn sloppily as his tongue grazes over your lips once more, beckoning for entrance. Your eyes roll back in pleasure, feeling his cock repeatedly hit at your G-spot, building onto your orgasm with fervor.

The lust between the two of you, if anything, had become more insatiable over the years and undeniably so on your behalf. It ignited on your wedding night as you and Michael consummated your marriage, but you couldn’t shake off the growing sexual tension between the two of you before and during your engagement.

It was those dark, Sicilian eyes of his that had you immediately ensnared. It didn’t matter whether you had entered Don Vito’s office for the first time, surrounded by your family, or if you were alone in the courtyard with your new fiancée by your side. It always his eyes—the way they burned into you, glazed over by his serious disposition.

Michael’s eyes tempted yours to look upon them, and they spoke words that you understood in his silence. They were eyes of cunning, of dominance and control, and they undressed you with each look that tempted your shyness.

Back then, you could barely hold eye contact with Don Vito’s youngest son and felt the storm of butterflies rage on in the pit of your stomach as he approached you on your wedding night—a lustful look in his eyes as he began to undress you.

His eyes would land on you again and again, and your heart would race. Your cheeks would fill with blush, causing you to grow immediately flustered. You’d try to look away and pretend not to notice, but your emotions told you otherwise, and you couldn’t. You noticed he wouldn’t simply look at anything or anyone; he would stare. And when he stared at you, it was as if his eyes had commanded yours to look back.

You took each and every opportunity to admire him when you were certain he wasn’t noticing, but it was always much too hard to pull away. When Michael’s eyes were on you, you could feel it whether you faced him directly or your back was turned. Without even trying, Michael would read you—all that your reaction and expression had to offer him, your intentions down to your very core.

Michael didn’t need to express himself to you—you could already tell from the dark longing in his eyes. He was more than capable of getting any reaction or answer out of you, yet his gaze was softened when he first met you. He was open with you, curious about you, and wanted to get to know your body just as much as he wanted to understand your mind.

You couldn’t deny you were both physically and sexually attracted to Michael from the moment you met him. Of course, the Corleone men themselves were all attractive—especially Michael’s brothers, but everything from his eyes, to the shape of his Roman nose, his full lips, his velvety voice, the way his hands gripped on anything he touched, and his dark hair perfectly slicked back oozed sex appeal to you.

Just five years ago, you were painfully shy, undressing in front of Michael, seeing him naked before you, laying you down upon the bed for the first time as he was about to take your virginity. His gaze over you was lustful, needing, but patient. He was patient for you because he knew not only did he have you all to himself but that he was going to make every minute of it count.

You had to admit to yourself, until the consummation of your marriage, all you could do was wonder what it would be like to make love to Michael. The very thought alone sent blush flaring in your cheeks, causing you to clench your legs.

Your mind always went to the fantasy of him gazing over your naked body, kneeled over you upon your bed as his firm hands trailed up your bare thighs, feeling all of you as he spread your legs apart. He would never take his eyes off of you, watching your shy, aroused disposition react to him.

You wanted his hands on you so badly—you couldn’t get your eyes off of them whenever you had seen him. His very touch would send a rush of excitement through your body when you bumped into him or when he surprised you from behind—so much so that it was almost unbearable.

To have him all to yourself on your wedding night marked the passionate dream come true. You and Michael had made love for hours that night, simply unable to pull away from each other or get enough. You were insistent on getting to know his body, his love language, and the pleasure he desired from you throughout it.

Your curiosity was sated with his lust since your wedding night. It was then that you know he craved you just as much as you ached for him. Vulnerable before each other, Michael had to be soft and gentle with your body as he took your virginity.

His eyes roamed over all your naked body had to offer, filled with a hunger, a deep desire, and possession of his new wife. The two of you were unfamiliar with each other’s bodies, only bringing in another aspect of excitement in having sex for the first time.

Michael had stood before you under the dim light of the bedroom, fully undressing. You couldn’t pull your gaze off of him as he stripped shirtless in front of you. The light patch of his chest hair, the shape of his collarbones, all down to the way he pulled his briefs off and pumped his fully erect cock—spilling droplets of precum over his thigh severely turned you on.

To wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in closer to you, run a hand through his silky, dark hair and feel your breasts pressed up against his chest—hot skin on skin only continued to amplify the attraction you had towards Michael.

He adored every inch of your body and kissed you all over—his hands trailed and grazed over everywhere, getting to memorize each part of you. He listened to your breathing, the way your heart raced as he massaged at your inner thighs, how your shyness sparked when his eyes looked over your sex, and the way you moaned as he rocked your body against his.

Michael’s love language was separate from the way he preferred his pleasure. Much more often than not, the sex was rougher yet still tender. Fast-paced and hard, Michael easily climbed to both his and your orgasm, drawing it out and edging you until you couldn’t take it any longer.

You loved to hear Michael moan more than anything else. The way his velvety voice rang out in pleasure as he was fucking you was pure music to your ears, only heightening at your growing arousal. He was mostly quiet with his grunts and breathing, but the sight of him biting down on his lip and letting out a loud moan or inhaling sharply and hissing out an “oh fuck” when he entered you and came inside of you was something else.

Clenching your pussy around his cock added to Michael’s pleasure—stealing breathy moans from his lips. He couldn’t hold himself back at all when you had your tongue wrapped around his cock, sloppily licking and sucking over his shaft as he’d tilt his head back—his hands tangled in your hair—lips pursed apart as he’d moan out your name.

Your favorite position to have him in is and was always cowgirl—bouncing up and down on his cock, feeling every inch of him slide in and out of you. He could keep you going for rounds and rounds, thrusting his hips up to meet yours in unison.

He could hit every sweet spot inside of you in a cowgirl position, cumming inside of you as you continued to ride him. You loved having Michael squeeze his hands over your hips, moving you with the pace of his thrusts as his cum would mix in with yours, smearing all over his shaft.

The only sound to be heard besides your cries and moans of his name was that of your ass slapping against his hips and the sloppiness of his cock sloshing in and out of you deeply. With your knees quivering at the arrival of your orgasm, he’d hold your waist down in place, continuing to fuck you upwards at the perfect angle that would hit your g-spot effortlessly.

Completely sprawled out beneath him, you reach your hand back to the window to hold your hips up to Michael’s as the tip of his cock dangerously thrusts closer to your g-spot.

Your wetness begins to trickle down your thighs and onto the car seat as Michael’s thrusts grow sloppier—enough of his and your natural lubrication to completely soak and slick his cock in and out of you.

Your hand slides down the glass helplessly, leaving a print as you writhe underneath Michael’s body, succumbing to the release of your sweet orgasm washing over your body as you moan out his name.

~

[ January 1954, Michael Corleone’s Perspective ]

The mirror over the sink across from the bathtub remains foggy, covered in steam from the hot bath Victoria and I had drawn. The door out to the bedroom is closed to preserve the heat of the water, now sloshing around the both of us as I keep a firm grip over Victoria’s hips, bouncing her steadily on my cock.

“Just like that, darling…” I grunt out, watching her writhe out in pleasure as she clutches onto the rim of the bathtub, moving her hips back and forth in rhythm with mine.

“Michael…” Victoria shivers in delight as I lean up to her, pressing my chest against her back.

“If only you could see yourself like this, hmm?” Wet skin over skin, I push aside a curtain of her soaked hair behind her ear, admiring her hazy expression indulged completely in the pleasure I control over her.

“You don’t have to remind me when I can feel all of you like this…” Victoria glances back at me, her eyes half open as she giggles breathily. “Enjoying the view?”

“Mm, how could I not?” Glancing down, I watch as my cock slides in and out of Victoria, soaked from our bath and drenched from her wetness as she continues taking in all of me—eager to do so with each thrust back. “Take it in—take all of me in… Again, again.”

I rake a hand through my soaked hair, slicking it back from my forehead as I pick up my pace. I stifle down my grunts as I pound up into her warm cunt—hearing her sweet moans ring back out. “Oh—that’s right, baby…”

“H-harder, Michael… Harder.” Victoria groans out, her hands finding mine and squeezing over them. “Fuck me harder.”

“Harder?” My cock twitches inside of her at the very sound of her pleading as I slide my hands up her back, wetting it again with the hot water.

I trail one hand through her silky hair, grasping a fistful of it to keep her under my control as I press her hip down against mine with the other. “How much harder can you take, I wonder?”

“O-Oh, my God!” Victoria squeals as I buckle my hips up, thrusting harshly and fucking her at a faster pace. “More, m-more, Michael! Oh, God, yes! Yes!”

Riding me in a reverse cowgirl position, Victoria’s hips eagerly bounce back and meet with mine, insistent on taking me in at a faster pace as I begin to slam into her deeply.

Unable to hold the escape of a drawn-out groan from my lips, I gaze at the erotic sight of her on me, completely indulged in the ecstasy.

Steam from the hot bath surrounds us as she flips her hair off her shoulder shakily, leaning her head down to the rim of the bathtub.

She moans even louder—barely able to cling on for balance as her thighs begin to shake. “More, more!”

I run my hands down from her back, sliding them between her arms and cupping at her wet breasts as I continuing pounding up into her mercilessly, grunting in her ear. “This is what you wanted, huh? Harder? Faster?”

“Y-yes—” Victoria can barely make out a coherent sentence, completely enthralled by her orgasm beginning to wash over her as I angle my cock to thrust in at her sweet spot.

“Came on my cock already?” I breathe out, pulling her back into my lap, angling her body up to mine as I lean my back against the tub.

“Oh, G-God!” Victoria squeals out, giggling through her orgasm ringing out throughout her body as she throws her head back onto my shoulder.

“You can take more than that, can’t you?” I hiss back in her ear, sloppily kissing her neck. I spread her thighs out between mine, continuing to fuck her in the same position over my lap.

“Y-yes, I want more! I want—” Victoria whimpers loudly as she clutches onto my arms. She helplessly watches my cock pound up inside of her soaked cunt. “Fuck me, Don Corleone!”

“Never going to stop begging for my cock, are you?” Raising her thighs upwards, I smack her ass harshly, squeezing my hand down at her pussy.

“Ah!” Victoria’s wet hair sticks to her face as her breath hitches, her cum oozing off of my cock. “Michael!”

Watching the hot water splashing onto Victoria’s thighs and drip off of her breasts—her submissiveness under my control of pleasure does nothing but surge my lust for her.

She easily went from soft-spoken college girl to a blubbering, cum filled slut under me—something I wondered if she’d do myself with the way she had kept looking at me since we got engaged.

Victoria neither made it too secretive or obvious her gaze had always been on me. I’d find her eyes wandering all over me regardless of where we were or what we were doing, always filled with the same attraction and curiosity, yet she could barely hold eye contact when we first met.

She captivated me from the moment she walked into my father’s office all those years ago. Being able to get a good look at her face and finally learn her name, I couldn’t deny myself the attraction I felt for her, sure of myself from her body language that it was certainly reciprocated.

Victoria was different from Kay and even Apollonia in any way that I could name, but she was a welcome change in my life that I was eager to savor for myself. I easily memorized every inch of her body, each sweet spot she didn’t even think she had, what made her squirm, writhe underneath me, beg for more—what made her ache all over until she couldn’t hold back.

I took my time with her, but I knew then that I wanted more from her than just motherhood. Unlike Kay, she wasn’t overly tender and whiny in bed, but she wasn’t stiff and completely submissive like Apollonia. She was unlike anything I ever felt, and I was eager to coax out the sexual confidence she found in bed with me—reserved only for me.

Her moans and groans were nothing short of sweet to me. She let me know how good I made her feel without holding back yet insistent on wanting more under my dominance and control.

I could never get enough of grazing my tongue over her soft, supple skin, tracing around her jawline with the tip of my nose before leaving a soft trail of kisses, harshening down to her collarbones. My hands scouring over her chest as I’d flicker my tongue at her hardened nipples, hearing her soft breathing and whimpering of my name.

Pinning her wrists up above her head and seeing the pleading look in her eyes, I’d kiss and lick down to her waistline, squeezing at her hips and feeling her thighs. I’d rub my hands between her upper thighs, caressing and massaging as I went, only to notice how she’d buck her hips back up at me in arousal.

I’d love nothing more than to have her legs wrapped around me, hips raised as I’d bury my cock into her, letting her take all of me in without spilling a single drop. To see her face twisted in pleasure, panting and gazing back at me as I’d fuck her into a state of blissful exhaustion was nothing but a weekly occurrence.

She played the business and pleasure dynamic very well. The chemistry between us was and is obvious, but my attraction for her never stopped at just the physical. There was something erotic about dominating the “innocent” and inconspicuous girl she was known as.

Controlling her orgasms, making her beg and spill out her dirty confessions while pleading for more of me barely scratch the surface on how I’ve come to crave Don Ferrari’s daughter.

~

[ November 1954 ]

Lips intertwined over Michael’s, the kiss between the two of you grows feverish and demanding, coaxing out the growing lust towards each other.

Michael stands before you shirtless, one hand fumbling with his belt buckle over his dress pants with the other tugging gently on your hair—bringing you closer to seal any space between one another.

You whimper out in Michael’s mouth as he deepens the kiss, letting his belt fall to the floor. His lips crush over yours as he begins to caress the back of his hand against your cheek, trailing it down to your neck.

Lost in Michael’s kiss, you shiver at his touch over your hot skin, nudging your satin nightgown off your shoulders, eager to expose the lingerie underneath. He slowly breaks the kiss with a quiet, breathy moan, darting his eyes down at your body.

Michael slides his hands down to your arms, lust flickering in his eyes at the sight of you in your black, lacy lingerie bodysuit; straps crossed over your breasts with a cut-out in the middle, beneath your breasts.

The lace adorns the lingerie piece down to your lower waistline, ending in a mesh fabric that hugs and tightens over your ass and front side—complete with a black garter belt and stockings adorning your thighs.

Michael says nothing to you as his eyes meet up with yours for a brief moment—his gaze speaking for him with his possessive eyes, scouring over your body hungrily.

You lace both hands with his, taking a step back as you gently pull him towards you. Maintaining eye contact, your heart begins to race in your chest as you place his hands over your breasts, letting yours go as you submit yourself to him.

Michael’s eyes darken with lust as he squeezes at your tender breasts, moving the rest of his hands down your chest to touch the lace fabric. He stops at your hips, applying slight pressure with his fingers as he touches you, trailing his hand down to your ass, he grasps it.

Blushing, you turn around in response, feeling his chest press up to your back. You can see half of your reflection in your vanity’s mirror across from you, noting how distracted Michael’s become with your appearance as his erection presses up against your ass.

“Don Corleone…” Your breath hitches as you feel the tug of arousal tighten in your gut, only continuing to feel his erection pushing further at the fabric of your lingerie.

“Come here,” he breathes out to you—his voice low and raspy as he sits upon the edge of the bed, beckoning for you.

Following, you shyly approach Michael directly, finding his hands pulling at the straps of your garter belt teasing, letting them slap back against your skin.

The lingerie was a piece you and Connie had bought together, worn as a surprise for Michael whose seeing it for the first time and only continuing to fuel your excitement with the response he was giving you.

The fabric of your lingerie hugs at every curve in your body, extenuating your thighs and breasts with the tightness of the mesh. It’s a provocative yet alluring and sexy piece that’s given your sexual confidence the boost you were searching for approaching a half-naked Michael Corleone.

“Oh, you’re perfect…” Michael hisses out quietly, undoing at your garter belt as he keeps his eyes over you.

Secretly glad that the illumination of the bedroom light doesn’t entirely shine over your face with how deeply you’re blushing, you raise one thigh up to his lap as your garter belt’s straps dangle loosely.

“And you’re all mine for the night, aren’t you?” Michael’s hands rub over your inner thighs as he trails his index and middle fingers down to your pussy, peeking through the mesh fabric of your lingerie.

He slicks his finger down, pressing the fabric up to your clit as you gasp out softly, clutching onto his shoulders to maintain your balance. “Y-yes, Don Corleone—”

Noticing your response, Michael smirks at you wryly. The sight of him is enough to send your arousal in a frenzy alone. His hair remains neatly slicked back through the middle—not a single strand loose—having just arrived from a late evening business meeting, keeping you eagerly waiting.

“Wet already…?” He taps his fingers against your clit, noticing the dampness through the fabric. “And I’ve barely touched you. Can’t hold yourself back even for a moment. Mm…” Clutching your thigh, Michael grazes his tongue upwards to your inner thigh, suckling over the crease dangerously close to your sex.

“M-Michael…” You whine, feeling your thighs begin to quiver. “Please…”

“You look like a whore.” He slowly pulls away, running his hands up and down the fabric of your stocking. “Now you can act the part, isn’t that right? Does a whore get to address me so commonly?”

“Don Corleone.” You feel a trickle of your wetness forming between your legs again.

“That’s what I thought.” Michael’s stern gaze meets your flustered disposition as he lets go of your thigh, gesturing to the side with a nod of his head. “Get on your knees, and don’t keep me waiting.”

“Yes, Don Corleone.” You feel your clit begin to throb almost painfully so at your built-up arousal, knowing you did yourself no favors while waiting for him to return from his meeting by letting your mind and fingers wander.

You make your way over to the center of the bedroom, all the more flustered knowing he’s demanded you get on all fours over the floor rather than the bed.

“Get in front of the mirror.” Michael watches get on the floor from behind, pulling down his trousers and briefs. “I want you to see yourself when I take the last bit of dignity from you.”

“Yes, sir.” You crawl over to the full body mirror affixed into the wall, your knees digging onto the rug beneath you.

“You look good like this, you know?” Your eyes widen momentarily as you tilt your head up to the mirror, spotting Michael completely naked, pumping his fully erect member behind you. “On your knees, completely helpless—I’m sure all you whores have the same routine, but there’s something a little different about you, isn’t there?”

You clench at your legs, hoping you won’t completely soak through your lingerie before he even properly gets to touch you.

“First, you’ll show me some respect.” Michael grabs a fistful of your hair, forcefully tilting your head down from the mirror.

Lowering your head in response, you breathe out, noticing he’s kneeled up directly behind you. “Maybe we’ll start off with a few house rules.” Michael trails his finger up to your clit again underneath you before he furrows his brows, gazing at your posture.

Michael presses down on your shoulders and back, angling your ass up to him as you keep your head down, feeling the mesh fabric tightening around your pussy.

You gasp out as you feel the shaft of his cock pressed up between your ass. “You won’t speak unless you’re spoken to, and you will do exactly as I say—do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes, Don Corleone.” You nod back against the floor—strands of your hair dangling over your face as you breathe heavily.

“I won’t let you off so easily for giving away the obvious, Miss Ferrari.” Michael pulls the mesh fabric aside from your sex, smacking over your labia. “You’ve obviously been touching yourself.”

“S-sir, please.” You bite down on your lip, trying your best to hide your undeniable arousal. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Michael raises a brow, spreading your pussy lips open. “Then you’ll gladly show me this ‘nothing,’ won’t you?”

Flustered and embarrassed, you reach your hand back to your spread pussy, hovering your fingers above your clit.

“You weren’t patient enough to keep your hands away from yourself, so you’ll show me and tell me everything you were thinking of… Don’t make me wait any longer than I have to.” Michael rubs at your labia in lazy circles with his thumb. “Show me.”

“Don Corleone…” You shakily lick over your lips, beginning to touch yourself by stimulating your clit with the tip of your fingers. “I was—”

“Speak up, whore.” Michael harshly slaps your ass, causing you to wince.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you, Don Corleone.” You raise your voice, slicking your fingers slowly into yourself. “I… I got too impatient, and my mind began to wander.”

Michael pulls his hands back, letting you take over as he smears the drops of precum off from his tip to coat his shaft. “Of course you did.”

Humiliated by the confession yet utterly turned on, you continue. “All I wanted to do was submit to you, to… to have you tease and please me, eat me out…” You dip your fingers inside of you, beginning to quicken up the pace as you finger yourself directly in front of Michael.

“For a womanso shy, your mind always says otherwise, doesn’t it?” Michael slaps your ass again, watching the skin flare up pink as he grasps at your hand, taking your fingers into his mouth and tasting at your sweetness.

“Y-yes!” You cringe in embarrassment at the sight, feeling your pussy clenching as his tongue licks your fingers clean, letting go of your hand.

“Look at where your little fantasy has gotten you.” Michael breathes hotly, his tongue only mere inches away from your pussy. “Right where you wanted it to be.”

“Oh!” You throw your head back in response, feeling Michael bury his face into your pussy.

Relentlessly, he begins sloppily eating you out, focusing on suckling over your clit with the perfect pace and amount of pressure that easily welcomes your growing orgasm.

Spilling loud moans from your lips, you can’t hold yourself back into silence as you desperately clutch at the rug underneath you, feeling his tongue flickering over your clit. “O-Oh, my—my God!”

His stubble grazes against the tip of your clit momentarily, causing you to roll your eyes back in pleasure at the sudden rush of stimulation. Your body gives into Michael as your juices trickle down your thighs, immediately licked up by him. “Yes, yes!”

The sensation is heavenly, sending sparks of pleasuring flying through you as you feel your pussy pulsating, close to tipping over in orgasm. Michael isn’t oblivious to your reactions, immediately pulling his face back when he feels your pussy convulsing against his mouth.

He replaces his tongue with his cock, thrusting up and impaling into your pussy as you shriek out in pleasure. Your orgasm unravels out as Michael chuckles, pulling a fistful of your hair back as he begins to pound into your ass.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you like a whore.” Feeling your cum soak his cock, Michael mercilessly continues fucking you at a quickened pace, forcing you to look up at yourself in front of the mirror.

Flushing a shade of scarlet, you helplessly look upon your reflection in the mirror, getting pounded over the floor as your thighs shake against your will—still riding out the lingering sensations of your orgasm.

“You couldn’t take your eyes off of me even then…” Michael grunts, watching in amusement as his cock slides in and out of your tightness with ease. “I saw the way you looked at me—nothing has changed.” He reaches his hand over to your face, grabbing it. “Isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes, Don Corleone!” You moan out loudly, surprised you’ve been able to form out a coherent sentence, to begin with.

“You’re a whiny little slut begging for my cock over and over again.” Michael spanks you again, tugging on your hair roughly at the same time as you yelp out. “Tsk tsk… What would your family think if they heard you moaning like this?”

“T-that I’m a whore…” You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks and smearing off your mascara as you feel your second orgasm approaching.

“That you’re a cum-guzzling whore.” Michael corrects, letting go of your face but not without slapping you lightly. “And you love mafia cock.”

“Mafia…” You’re barely able to repeat out.

“I should fuck your mouth till you forget how to speak, huh? I should do that next, shouldn’t I? Since you can still speak and all.” Michael growls, leaning against your back.

“Y-you can do anything you want to me, Don Corleone.” You let out a breathy giggle, blinking past your tears. The sweet sensation of your orgasm approaching you is near as you’re filled to the brim with his cock, only wanting more and more.

“You know the only thing you’re good for is taking my cock, isn’t that right?” Michael tilts your head to the side to face him, slipping two fingers into your lips to open your mouth as he spits in it. “Oh, you love this. You fucking love this.”

“Mm… Yes, yes I am!” You swallow, your breathing mixing in with your whining as you hear the sound of skin slapping against skin with Michael’s thrusts only growing faster.

“You can’t get enough… Don’t hold back now, cum, you little whore. Cum.” Michael hisses out as your knees almost give in, gladly letting your second orgasm hit over your body.

“Look at yourself.” Michael pulls on your hair once more, gazing at the two of you in the mirror. “Look at how you’re getting fucked—I bet you’ve always wanted this. Dirty little whore.”

“Yes, daddy!” You regret the words as soon as they blurt out of your mouth.

“What was that?” A smirk crosses over Michael’s lips as he grabs at your breasts. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“P-please don’t make me, Don Corleone—” You moan out again, getting fucked into a state of bliss.

“I’m going to stretch you… I’m going to fuck your brains out like this. You’ll never get off to touching yourself again. From now on, all you’ll want is me…” Michael pulls his cock out of you completely before slamming back into your G-spot directly, already tempting another orgasm. “Call out my name. Say it.”

“MICHAEL!” Squirting out over the carpet, you feel your orgasm overwhelm you with a surge of pleasure coursing through your body from its intensity.

Unlike any orgasm you’ve ever felt before, the tingling sensation of it washing over every inch of your body is heavenly, reaching you to an entirely new height. Almost hypnotized from it, you gasp for air, beginning to pant as your knees threaten to collapse.

Michael pulls out, wrapping an arm around you to hold your back up to his chest for balance as you regain your breath, giggling through it. “M-Michael, I—”

“Ooh, careful, careful…” He purrs in your ears, pushing a curtain of your hair back behind your ear. “You’ve made a mess of yourself.”

“I can still…” You whimper out, pushing your hips back onto his. “Still feel it…please.”

“Eager as always.” Michael chuckles back, shaking his head as he scolds you. “We don’t always get what we want, do we, Miss Ferrari?”

You grin back out to him, panting. “I just did, Don Corleone.”

“How amusing.” His eyes search over your face for a reaction as he flips you over, forcing you up on your knees. “I’ll have to do something about that.”

“Anything…” You plead, holding onto his waist as you pump his soaked cock with one hand, closing your eyes and opening up your mouth.

Michael inhales sharply, both of his hands lost in your hair as your cum off his cock spills over your chest. “Atta girl…”

“Ah…” Taking one last peek before squeezing your eyes shut, Michael tilts his head back with a loud groan, cumming all over your face.

His hot cum lands over your forehead, cheeks, and lips as you eagerly swallow any that comes onto your tongue. A dozen spurts out, you’re completely covered in his seed as it drips down to your breasts.

“Don… Don Corleone…” You lick over your lips, gazing up at Michael, who looks down at you with half-open eyes, shakily exhaling out through his orgasm. “More, Don Corleone… I want more.”

~

The clock on your nightstand reads 2:13 AM as you lean against the doorway to the bathroom, still achy and sore from the rough roleplay session. Now fresh out of the shower and ready for bed, you button up one of Michael’s dress shirts over you that barely cover your backside, completely naked underneath.

From the glow of the night lamp, you peek back out to Michael whose just finishing up the last of his cigarette, blowing smoke off to his side as he lounges underneath the blankets, lazily gazing back at you.

You smile back at him shyly, unable to deny the whirl of butterflies kicking up in your stomach at the sight of him so relaxed after fucking the ever-living life out of you half an hour ago.

Grazing your teeth against the corner of your lip, you approach your side of the bed, watching Michael lean his arm out to the ashtray and put his cigarette out. His eyes practically spell out sleep as you get into the blankets, snuggling up next to him.

The scent of your clean, washed skin with his mingles in the sheets as you lean upon your elbow, cupping his face with one hand gently and kissing his cheek with the other. You can’t help but smile through your kiss as you notice him smile back at you—catching you by surprise.

“Victoria…” Michael murmurs out sleepily as you plant little smooches along his cheek, much to his amusement.

In a very affectionate mood after such a heated sex session, you kiss the tip of his Roman nose, trailing down your little path of affection down to his neck.

Michael chuckles softly, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you closer to him. Just as you move in to give his cheek another kiss, he turns his head to face you, stealing a kiss from your lips.

You blush back, giggling quietly. “I love you.”

“I love you more…” Michael exhales deeply, shifting to the side to face you directly. “Not tired yet?”

“Depends.” You whisper back at him, laying your head down over the pillow as you curl up to his chest. “Tired from the night? Yes.”

“I can live with that…” Michael nuzzles you, kissing up at your jawline. “Can’t stay away from me for very long, can you?”

“Would never even dream of wanting to.” You close your eyes, cuddled up in his embrace. “The girls are going to ask me at breakfast tomorrow as to why I’m sitting funny…” You whine out softly, "and if we want to talk about the mess we made, we can start off with the one you left on my face.”

“Which is a good look for you, if you ask me.” Michael kisses your cheek gently. “Get used to it.”

Your initial thoughts of having sex with Michael Corleone consisted of doing so to consummate your marriage, then try as many times as needed for children thereafter. You imagined back then that if Michael was aroused or feeling the need to spend some time alone with you, that you would have sex with him again.

You didn’t expect nor anticipate much, and a majority of your beliefs came from his unreadable expressions and body language. He remained a mystery to you until the end of your engagement, always so stern and cold, yet intense in his own way.

Michael could say the same about you, although he knew the last thing he wanted to do was have the same sex with you that he had with Kay. He had grown rougher and gotten used to a faster pace of sloppy sex since Sicily, knowing he was tender with Kay before he met and married Apollonia.

Still, there was a perfect balance between sensual, intimate lovemaking and the fiery, passionate sex the two of you shared together. The bond and chemistry you had with each other directly reflected on your sex life—a healthy one at that.

Your sexual arousal and attraction to Michael knew no ends as he knew none towards you. He had been wildly attracted to you since the day the two of you met and had noticed each glance you gave his way. He knew you desired him in the same way and enjoyed teasing you even from afar.

After all, Michael knew he didn’t have to touch or even speak to you to be able to tell how attracted you were to him. He also knew he wanted to desperately take advantage of such. You remain to be the only woman he ever wishes to lay eyes and hands upon—thinking of none other.

Your sex life had always been healthy and never dull with Michael. There was a surge of passion you shared with him behind closed doors that you couldn’t even explain to yourself. The love and adoration you had for Michael didn’t end in the bedroom, nor did it start there.

Your attraction to Michael is relentless, unconditional, and limitless, pulling you back into his embrace through everything. You stopped questioning it a long time ago, eagerly following him into the darkness—letting those same shadows surround you. Taking on his last name, you came to fulfill an important role as Don Michael Corleone’s wife, lover, and mother to his children. When it comes to Michael Corleone, you are but a moth to a flame.

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[teeth-farie]

Fem Mammon in leather! 👀 Majolish photoshoot with demon Mammon in a leather high-rise jacket with a v-neck black shirt, short-leather shorts with gold straps, and leather high boots. Her posing for the camera and her thin waist basically shaped in her tight leather clothes, and just imagining her verse straddling on the readers lap on a throne for the shoot. The reader in their own leather attire (of personal preference) and using their knee or thigh to tease Mammon's clit through her shorts--

I dunno if you meant this as a scene idea in mammons chapter or as a thirst but I’m Looking 👀👀

A photo shoot with mammon meant to utilize demon/human relationships. But it also touches on her pact with you, especially if it’s paired with an interview of some kind about the human that conquered the seven lady’s. The positions that you’re both put in for shoot is already getting mammon hot and bothered, especially with how you have to stand behind her, pressed against her back with your hand clutching her throat like a flesh collar. She wishes you’d squeeze, that’d you’d forgo the light touches and cupping of her neck and grab her throat for real. The next is in an ornate throne, mammons wings drooping across the arms where she straddles your lap.

The photographer instructs mammon to sit down completely and for you to grab her chin, like you were tempting her with the idea of a kiss. Mammons flushed redder than her blush makeup, lower lip trembling at the idea of kissing you for real. Your eyes are lidded, focused, and mammon gets a sharp feeling of dread that you’re faking that look on her, that this is an act and nothing more. She knows that it technically is an act, but you can’t deny whats between you, can you? The photographer instructs mammon to arch her back the slightest, push her butt out a little, and— oh.

The position makes her nudge her mound against your thigh. Heat floods between her legs and her clit twitches pitifully in the tight leather. You must have noticed, because you shift your thigh a little like your repositioning, and it rubs against her again. She’s not going to make it through this shoot if you keep doing this, if your thigh remains squished between hers, if your hands are going to remain all over her body. Mammon winds up calling a for a break, sweaty and desperate and doing her best not to show it.

Mammon runs off for a bathroom break, leaving you and the stunned photographers behind. It takes her a minute to wiggle down her shorts and shove her hand between her thighs. She feels pathetic, getting off to you in a bathroom when you’re outside of the door, waiting for her to come back—but she just can’t focus when you’ve made her so needy ♡ poor mammon…

#mail #mammon #spicy #thirsts #om genderbend