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killshotbabe · 1 year

Text

Title | Overheated

Pairing | high school friend’s crush/bf!Jeno x reader ft. nct dream (minor appearance)

Warnings | minors dni! mention of smoking and alcohol consumption, use of swear words, reader stuck in an “uncomfortable” situation, close proximity, drunk!reader at some point, sexual tension, cheating/affair, jeno gaslights reader (or does he really?), fingering, implied solo masturbation, slight somnophilia, a bit "dub non-con" in the beginning, overstimulation, sex under the influence (reader only), dirty talk, unprotected sex (please wear protection!), implied public sex, no romance in any type of context

Word count | 4.5k

Song(s) | red - santino le saint, link up - kid travis

A.N | May or may not have dreamed about the idea of this lol. Just finished it today so happy valentines! (this one-shot won't make you blush that way...)

You’re not sure why your friend decided to it would be a good idea to go out with someone like him to begin with.

At first, you thought she’d get over him like usual, hoping it’s just a part of her “hyper-fixations” just like how she’s got maybe five crushes all at once (from what you can recall in one of those nights you spent hanging out in her bedroom) but much to your horror, it wasn’t as simple as that.

You remember her gawking at him at the cafeteria after she had jokingly pinched you, nudging you to check him out in which caused to roll your eyes and proceed to open the cap of your cold tea.

You didn’t care about crushes at all, and yes, he was cute, handsome even but the only thing that piqued your interest at the moment was that sleek navy blue motorcycle he brought to school. You’ve always wanted one and to say that you were jealous of him flexing one at such young age is nothing but an understatement — you wanted what he had even if you couldn’t afford it.

And that wasn’t fair to you. Not when he barely has to do anything when you’re out here working part-time at a pizza parlour and you can barely even pay half of the bills at home.

Him and his old money status can go to hell, you think. He doesn’t even need to show up to any of his classes and you’re one-hundred percent sure he’ll be able to get into any top universities so easily, he just has to maybe tell his parents—

“Hey, are you listening?”

You blink away from your train of thought, the faint bustle of the library buzzing into your ear.

You realize you’re still in the same place for about three hours now, trying to study with the same friend (which would be your only friend, not best friend yet though because you don’t like getting attached to things, let alone actual people) who had been yapping about him for the past hour, and you may or may not have told her to shut the fuck up in your head twice.

“Wait, sorry.” You lie, typing away as your friend broke into a sly grin after finally catching your attention. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m gonna talk to Jeno today.”

Jeno.

Him.

You couldn’t help but squint, almost bursting out of laughter.

You didn’t mind your friend at all.

She was fun, even if she’s the complete opposite of you. Loved cute things like pastel colours, calico critters and dressed the part as 1/4 of the future art majors in your campus (quirky, and she happened to obsessed with colour yellow), and collects a shit ton of squishmallows she even has a separate storage for it. She’s literally the true epitome of cute, preppy and pure.

Way too pure when it comes to that said department actually.

You weren’t even sure how someone like you were friends with her, and why she wouldn’t leave you alone but she was quite persistent with you — having to initiate things first after meeting you then following you around until you decided to just let her have at it.

Ever since then the two of you had been inseparable.

Though that didn’t mean you two were automatically best friends (even if she did say this a couple of times) and you would be lying if you saw it that way too when she mostly talked about herself, her hobbies, her interests, etc. unlike you who just sits there and listens, nodding your head off as if you do agree (mostly you don’t because you can’t relate or it’s just not your style) but you don’t really have the heart to tell her that… not when she’s generally nice and hasn’t really done anything to offend you.

You just admire the fact that she keeps dragging you around and never gave up on you. You don’t even know what made her want to work her butt off to earn your approval and have her invade your space like that, but you guessed that maybe she’s just someone you might need in your life.

…And that maybe, she’s there for a reason you can’t quite guess.

She hasn’t done anything stupid anyway.

…Until today.

“What?”

You balked, brows raised as she sighed dreamily, already planning her wedding dress for when she ends up marrying Jeno, her “soon-to-be high school sweetheart” as she mentioned just a few times and might have tried to manifest too with you in her room in front of her mini crystal collection she’s been obsessed with lately.

“I’m gonna say hi to him today! I’m sick of him not knowing who I am.”

If anything, you weren’t really surprised with this sudden revelation.

It was about time for her to finally try to introduce herself to him after crushing on him for two months now, and you do know she would have the great confidence to almost pursue anything, including him but you didn’t really want this day to come (hell, the thought of it was already dreadful) because you already knew what was bound to happen once she approaches him.

It’s like… surrendering a fawn to a den full of lions, and you can’t do anything but watch her get eaten, figuratively-speaking.

“You don’t look too happy, but that won’t stop me y’know.”

She winked mischievously, stealing a tomato chip off your lunch as you shook your head, a little smile playing on the edge of your lips.

“Do whatever you want but don’t rope me into your shit.”

You shrugged only to earn a scowl from her, her round eyes practically begging you to tag along when she introduces herself to him later on.

“But… c’mon! You don’t even have to say anything you just have to be there for moral support, pretty please?”

You could only sigh, pausing whatever you were doing just to look at her in the eye, already incapable of saying ‘no’ to her because in your defense she looked too cute.

You couldn’t afford to break her heart by saying no.

“Fine… whatever! Just get me ice cream after then we’re good.”

“Oh, I was about to say that too in case he rejects me ha ha,” she laughs off as she sipped on her watered down mango juice. “But at least I tried, yes? Then we can just enjoy our little ice cream date but I might cry…”

You weren’t even worried about that all, but you don’t say that part to your friend because guys like Jeno fancied cute girls.

Especially the innocent ones.

And your friend just might be the perfect girl for him.

To say that you weren’t right would be a goddamn lie, and you wished you were anywhere else but here, inside Jeno’s black sports car, the posh leather seat cold under your lap.

It’s been a month since the day your friend had introduced herself to him with such spark in her eyes you thought Jeno’s friends might have fallen for her too. One of them was even eyeing her from head to toe, visibly amused after seeing her short little skirt hugging her little frame.

Your friend, on top of being the real embodiment of cute, was still gorgeous and easy on the eyes, so it didn’t really surprise you when Jeno ended up giving his number to her as you tucked yourself away from his plain sight, hiding behind your much shorter friend when she confessed her feelings to him with so much confidence, it made you gag.

You weren’t really sure what happened overnight but just a week after, you found yourself on your own as your friend started hanging out with Jeno, his friends and their equally cute “girlfriends”, but she still made sure to spend half of her lunch break with you, even trying to drag you to their table but you could only reject her offer and excuse yourself because you had to catch up on an “assignment” when in reality, you would rather sit in the library by yourself than sit with them.

Then, today, you and your friend was supposed to go shopping by train but what she didn’t tell you was Jeno was gonna be there to drive the two of you so you don’t have to commute on the way to the mall and on the way back.

At first, you fumed having to deal with him being in an inclosed space as you, but it was indeed cold outside now that it’s halfway October and you certainly didn’t want to wait for the train with you friend in this type of weather (and maybe you did want to see his car up close and personal…) so you begrudgingly agreed, letting her yank you off your misery and plunge you into it all when she voluntarily pushed you to the backseat, your eyes drifting to Jeno who’s still talking to one of his friends, Mark, another guy from his group you do find just as attractive.

You could only roll your eyes as your friend wore her seatbelt on, giddily humming to herself. You gradually shifted your attention elsewhere, quite amazed with the clean and sleek interior of his car, but again it made sense.

Jeno was neat, never messy.

“Sorry, Mark was being clingy.”

You briefly hear him quickly apologize with a low chuckle as he slipped behind the wheel, his classy, citrusy scent invading your senses.

You cross your arms and looked away, trying to get him off your head as your friend’s slightly high-pitched voice cooed him “it”s okay!” and that “we can wait” ultimately, ignoring that fact that she just called him “babe” after.

This was one major thing you couldn’t bring yourself to fully admit — the fact that he’s now officially “seeing” your friend not even after a few months in which you felt no ounce of happiness about.

Your friend did inform you about it just a few nights before when she asked if you could come over and watch a scary movie with her because she noticed you were too busy and had no time with her (and you did feel bad because even if she’s always with him, she till spent some time with you only for you to run away for the most part) but she didn’t confront you about it at all.

If anything, it seemed like the usual chill nights you’d share with her until she brought him up and dropped the bomb on you without some sort of a warning beforehand especially when she can tell you’re not fond of Jeno nor his friends.

It felt like a sick joke, and it just feels like you friend is doing her best to make you change your mind about him which you don’t plan on doing so, not when you catch him doing PDA with your friend here and there you couldn’t help but swear at him in your head and look away.

The more time you had to spend with those two, sometimes with their friends, made you want to crumble or run off to the opposite direction.

They were exactly like what you imagined them to be, a couple of rich, privileged kids with filthy heads, the filth your friend is too innocent to be able discern.

They were sneaky about it too especially that Haechan guy who might have tried to get into your pants before, and you hated him so bad you had to tell him to back off you in which he called you feisty in return with the sinister promise of “you’ll want me someday.” before he left you to go smoke.

The rest of the group hasn’t really said anything to you yet. Sometimes they did but it was shallow and the girls hated your guts which is fair because you hated them as much (and with passion too). The only person you could perhaps stand in the group was Renjun.

The guy didn’t make any back-handed comments and he kept to himself for the most part but he did flash you a gaze occasionally wondering why you’re even here to begin with when it’s so damn obvious you don’t like anyone except your friend who always made sure you were included even if you tried to get away, and when you do try… it always ends with her getting what she wants.

And now you’re here, lost in your thoughts as you bore your full attention to the rows of yellow lights in the tunnel, the loud laughter your friend shared with Jeno mocking you.

He did leave the two of you alone to go shopping, and just came back to pick the you up as promised, then he’s supposed to drop you off first before her then they might go on a date like she told you earlier with so much excitement she couldn’t even choose between the two purses at a high-end store you were helping to choose from.

In the end, the two of you walked out the store satisfied — her with a new heart-shaped purse and you with a cashmere scarf you’ve been fancying on for months now that was on sale (which did hurt your bank account but your friend offered to pay half of it so you can just pay her back with instalments) this then provided some sort of a distraction for you, even offering to buy her a warm drink from the cafe as a sweet treat but since Jeno was already parked by the exit, you had to hurry.

They were still giggling as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the urge to strap your headphones around your head getting stronger the more you tuned in, even rolling your eyes when Jeno asked for her hand so he could give it a kiss as if you weren’t just there, witnessing the horrors.

Much to your looming demise, you try to relax and lay your head back with a determined attempt to lull yourself to quick nap anyway since your apartment is around thirty minutes away, so you fold your arms, turned your head to face the window and closed your eyes.

Not even ten minutes later, just when you were about to actually let sleep take over, your hear the deep rumble of Jeno’s voice.

“She’s asleep isn’t she?”

There was a slight movement from your friend, causing you to hold your breath as you feel her check on you.

“Yep, she did say she was tired.”

“She doesn’t talk much. Why are you even friends with her?”

Jeno snickered, taunting you from the rear-view mirror as you tried your best not to reach out and strangle him god willing.

He doesn’t even know you like that.

“She’s nice! Just give her some time.” You friend sighed, defending your honour which you almost snorted at but pretending to be asleep at this very moment was more ideal for you, you think.

You pushed yourself to further into the door, eyelids slightly parting just in time to see him give her a sleazy wink before you saw his hand land on her lap, making your heart drop at the sight.

You weren’t sure if you liked where this was going at all.

“She’s sleeping Jeno…”

You clawed on your sleeved, clenching your jaw when you hear Jeno whisper rather suggestively.

You knew it was meant for your friend, but he didn’t even bother hiding it, assuming you’re fully knocked out at the back seat.

“If you can keep it down, she won’t know.”

You swore you almost cried, knuckles turning white for how hard you formed into fists when you hear your friend’s shy giggles which enveloped to a series of quiet moans from the front seat when he began touching her down there as he drove, the soft r&b blaring from his speakers in an attempt to suppress the noises your friend was trying so hard to hide so she won’t wake you up, when in reality, you were very much awake to witness all of this happening.

At this point, you genuinely wished you were dead, begging for the door to just unlatch itself so you can slide off your seat and fall into the road to your death than sit here, being forced to hear your friend let out a strangled moan as he fingered her, easily dragging her close to her peak.

You wanted it to stop — for them to just cut it out and put an end to your nightmare but it only got worse as the time went by.

You can practically hear the lewd noises Jeno was making with his fingers as he played with her sheer arousal and the way he was talking to her in such a dirty manner for the sole purpose to make her cum in which she violently did just a few minutes later, an animalistic high-pitched squeak leaving her lips before she heaving and moaning his name shakily with him still fucking her with fervour, overstimulating her.

The subsequent scarlet hue spread on your cheeks, heating your face up, second-hand embarrassment kicking in as you chewed on your lip until you drew blood from your cracked ones, neck craning all the way to your side so your scarf could hide the horrified expression on your face.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or laugh — cry because he had the audacity to finger your friend at your presence or laugh because of the high-pitched noise your friend made. You think it’s a mixture of both and you think you might have gone clinically insane from that alone as this was not a part of your bingo card.

It’s only been a few weeks. Have they fucked already?

You try to contain yourself as you kept still when you hear them share a languid kiss in which your friend giggled to before she flashed you a quick gaze, making sure you were in fact, still asleep.

“She probably didn’t hear that did she?”

“I’m sure she didn’t.” Jeno’s mocking tone caused you to move slightly, but not enough to make him think you were awake all along.

Your neck became stiff after what seemed like forever, and as much as you wanted to stay in this painful position you knew you had rouse yourself up just because you couldn’t handle “sleeping” anymore, so you waited until your friend led him to your street as she navigated for him.

It was then the only time you stirred yourself up, alerting the both of them that you were now “awake.”

“Hey, sleepy head!”

You yawned, trying to look at her in the eye in the dark as you borrowed into your scarf, hiding half of your face.

“Yo.”

You diverted your to the windows and recognized your surroundings as the car halted just in front of your apartment complex, relief surging through you in sudden realization that you’re finally home.

“Thank god.”

You murmured under your breath, hand already fixed to the door handle, about to yank yourself out of there when your friend stopped you just before you can leave.

“See you next week!”

She piped up, her pupils shaking in pure excitement you almost asked what the hell she smoked to look like that when you already knew it was due to post-orgasm high.

You couldn’t help but to mirror her expression, but with a completely different reason.

You think you might want to commit right there if you kept smiling for ten more seconds, much like an unhinged criminal.

“Yeah! See you and thanks for the ride, Jeno.”

“Anytime.”

You see him nod at you, acknowledging your thankful nature (he probably though you were incapable of doing that) before you sprinted off, the two of them watching you attentively as you pushed yourself inside the lobby, cursing vehemently under your breath.

You didn’t even sleep that night, not when you find your underwear being wet from your own arousal after thinking about it again.

You don’t even like Jeno to any degree and yet, you still dreamed of him but not for good reasons.

Not at all.

And if your friend was to find out, it would be game over.

“I might have a friend who can take me in so Tony can come and fix this.”

You sigh, seeing as how the flooding got worse over the weekend due to the nonstop rainy weather and you, unfortunately, still rents the basement of a hosting family your mother personally knew but since they were on vacation in the UK and the main floor is locked, you can’t even access the floor and camp in the couch until the flooding issue gets fixed.

You’ve been on the phone with your host for an hour now explaining everything, and that they were going dispatch a friend to fix the damage shortly but still advised you that you’ll probably want to look for a friend to sleep over at for the mean time which you were okay with but you didn’t really want to do that even if you had no choice.

Hotels were costly so you dialled your only friend anyway whilst chugging what’s left from your coffee cup before tossing it in the nearby bin.

You’re in a local library now, left with nothing but a small suitcase you hastily shoved most of your every day necessities in to cover one week’s worth. Your host did say it should be okay to come back in a week or less so you made sure not to overpack, and you didn’t really want to stay there for longer, not when the slightly murky water felt cold around your feet.

“What? Are you serious!”

You sighed for what seemed like the 100th time today as you told your friend the whole situation.

“Not sure if this is going work but do you think you can take me in?” You inwardly groaned. “I can pay you.”

“Boo, I wish I can but my aunt’s over with my cousins I don’t have a space for you. Maybe after four days? They leave on Friday!”

“Well that won’t work, thank you though. I’ll go find a hotel—”

“No, no that’s going to be more expensive I can get someone to take you in though if that’s ok?”

You hummed, picking on your nail at the thought. Might as well give it a try.

“Sure…?”

“Ok, great! Give me a sec!”

You hear some sort of a movement from the other line before you hear your friend’s muffled voice once again.

“I just texted Jeno! He should be done working out right now. Where are you?”

“What?!” You let out a harsh whisper, trying to calm down realizing you’re in fact, still in a library. “Jeno—? I didn’t even agree just yet!”

“Well, he’s the only person I one-hundred percent trust with you even if you guys don’t talk but he’s got a huge place you can stay in and then he can even pick both of us up for school!”

“No,” You clutched your head in annoyance, trying your best not to hiss. “I— I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why? He already said he can do that though just now and I really don’t want you to spend money in a hotel. Too expensive. Good luck with Jeno though because he’ll say no with paying so you’re in good hands!” She laughed a little, making you huff on the other line. “Please? Maybe you guys can be friends. It gets so awkward when I’m with the both of you and you don’t even talk to him…”

“It’s just…” You try to explain. “I don’t know I feel like it’s so rude of me to just—”

“Honey, you’re not being rude! He literally said yes, and he’s got like two cars over there that you might like. If you ask nicely, maybe he can let you drive one to school? How about that?”

You wished she didn’t mention that at all, especially knowing that sport scars were your weakness in general and Jeno happened own two more aside from the one he drives to school.

You weren’t even sure if you had any ounce of dignity left at this point.

Hotels were costly, and you didn’t want to ask your mom for money to spend in a hotel thinking you’ve got a friend to cover for you, plus what you make from your part-time job wasn’t enough to foot the bill if you were to opt for a hotel.

If it was someone else, perhaps Mark or Renjun, you would probably agree without missing a beat (not like they would offer themselves in the first place, but if they did, you’d rather be with them) but this was Jeno.

The guy you’re friend is “seeing” and the same guy you thought about that night when you shouldn’t have.

You don’t even know if you could look at him in the eye anymore, and now you would have to stay over because he’s that nice?

“Heeeey, are you okay? I thought you ended the call for a second there.”

You cleared your throat, trying to make up your mind.

Am I gonna do this or not? Why the fuck would he even agree to this…

“I’m here sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I really want you guys to start talking… Don’t you think this is a good idea? He thinks it might be good too.”

“He said that?” You almost laugh. “Thank you, but…”

“He did actually and no buts! Do this for me please?”

“You… fine, fine…” You say as you give up, letting her win over you again.

“Okay! Yay!”

You hear her clasp her hands together before she asked where your exact location was again, intending to forward it to Jeno.

In the end, she simply gave your number to him so it would be easier, logically speaking, but you didn’t even want to save his number at all or have that exchange. It felt so weird to have him there, in your short list of contacts when you don’t even consider him a “friend” for that matter.

You weren’t even sure if you were doing your friend a “favour” even if she did say she trusts Jeno because deep down, you knew she shouldn’t be putting all the trust to him, not when you’re in the picture.

Especially not when you’re about to be confined in one space with no one else but him for god knows how long.

He didn’t even bat an eye when you slipped into the front seat of his car as he was in the middle of a conversation what you can assume would be Jaemin, blabbing something about some new pc game he got, so you strapped your seatbelt on quietly, not sure when would be the good time to thank him when you can’t even look at him in the eye.

“K, heading home. Talk later.”

He didn’t say anything either so you slowly fixed half of your attention to the road ahead of you and his one hand steering the wheel expertly, then gradually moved past that so you can finally glance up there, to his gorgeous side profile in which you admire a little.

He’s even more handsome this close, with his tall nose, perfect jawline and glowing fair skin — you thought you might have forgotten your words but you quickly look away, feeling the nervous energy course through your veins.

“No thank you?”

There was a slight tinge of tease in his tone, so you clear your throat, refusing to actually spare him another glance afraid that he might catch you looking more that you should have.

“Sorry… Just sad about the whole situation, but thank you for taking me in. I hope that’s okay with your parents…”

“Don’t worry.” He chuckled a little. “They’re in the Caribbean Islands right now. No one’s home.”

“Oh, that’s great.” You weren’t even sure if that offered some sort of relief on your end. “Always wanted to go there.”

“Maybe if you start hanging out with us more then I can take you there for the summer with the group?”

You think he might be joking, so you treat it as such, trying not to derail from what seemed like a pleasant conversation you two are actually having.

You knew your friend would be happy to hear the fact that you can actually get along just fine, but because of how you see Jeno and his friends in such a negative light, you’re not sure if you had the ability to stop being stubborn for once.

“Maybe.”

You sigh, now shifting your gaze to him again, noticing his muscular, yet lean upper body hugged by just one layer of his black turtle neck. You couldn’t help but to ogle a little, but you do look away, feeling the slight guilt creeping down your spine.

He’s literally one move away from dating your friend, so why do you find it so hard to look away? Not when there are more conventionally attractive guys in the group? Like Mark? Renjun?

I have eyes. I can look, that’s it. It won’t hurt.

“Oh, c’mon the more the merrier.” There was some sort of a drawl in his tone you couldn’t quite miss, but maybe you might have been imagining things. “Let’s see if I end up liking you enough though then maybe I’ll work so hard to drag you into the group and come with us to the Caribbean next summer vacation, yeah?”

Or were you really imagining things?

The first night wasn’t bad.

You learn that your friend wasn’t exaggerating when she did tell you he lives in a mansion.

There was a huge fountain in the middle of a private cul-de-sac, two mermaids made out of a slab of rock perched in right in the centre, flowing water trickling from the matching queen conches.

The gate was tall, and the impressive gigantic lot is nestled in what seemed like a canopy of endless tall pine trees. They literally had no neighbours close by and the entirety of the driveway was an actual boulevard, you think they could possibly fit another house over the area.

It felt like you entered a different dimension — the gated community of the rich didn’t feel real at all. Even the air felt expensive, and just when you thought that wasn’t enough, Jeno allowed you to spare a longing gaze to his two other fancy cars parked in a quadruple-door garage.

He did notice your obvious interest with the exterior of his cars so he lets you have your fun until you found yourselves darting inside his own floor which could pass as some sort of a penthouse.

You think he might not even see his parents even if they were in one house altogether halfway in. Hell, if there was party being hosted by him for two days in a row his parents won’t probably hear any of it.

“I have a spare room when the guys sleep over so you can stay there for now. Don’t think I’d have anyone over soon so you’re good.”

You stand in the middle of the spare room, checking the surroundings like some sort of a curious cat.

It was super neat, had some distinctive art pieces by the walls, but it did look like where they would hang out judging from the game consoles tucked into the black drawers under the gigantic screen tv and the mini fridge with a snack bar situated in a corner surrounded by neon lights.

“Thanks again, Jeno.”

You tell him as he leaned against the doorway, a pleasant expression on his face upon noticing the way you looked awestruck with the room arrangement.

“No probs. I’m just one door away so let me know if you need anything. Usually up until 1 am. My maid isn’t here she’s on vacay so just it’s just us two.”

“Sure.”

He left you alone like that, letting you bask at thought of him even having a maid. You think he might have an entire staff like a “head chef” running the house, but sooner or later you learn they’re all on vacation since they were all related which leaves you and Jeno all alone in such a big house, though despite that, you couldn’t help but feel the foreboding anxiety blaring through you like fire alarms.

There was an itch you couldn’t pinpoint and it drove you crazy the more you stayed over, and even if the first night went equally well like normal, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt wrecking through you, so for the next two days you got in touch with Tony, the maintenance guy, in hopes to hear something positive about the situation back home so leave early.

Much to your demise, it won’t be until a few days so you gave up, trying to calm yourself down as you tucked yourself to bed right after doing your homework on your third night.

Your friend visited you a few hours before but since her and Jeno had plans for the night which involved the guys, Jeno might be coming home around dawn. You couldn’t help but feel the crash of relief to be finally alone for once which was bad for you to admit since you’re literally staying in his house for free, but having him there to share a space with made you feel too damn guarded and you hated that.

It wasn’t like he was watching you either — if anything, you’re the one who was doing more of that especially when you ate together after he offered to cook, and if he did order take-out, he asked what you wanted and delivered it right to your door just because you didn’t feel like going downstairs when you should’ve offered but upon finding out he was in the ground floor from their own home gym, you decided not to.

He didn’t even bother putting a shirt on when he knocked on your door, letting you see his bare abs through the wide split of the door so you were quiet thankful you didn’t make your way downstairs even when the damage has been done and it did nothing but make things worse for you.

“The passcode is the last four numbers of you number.”

He concluded as he gave you a quick rundown of instructions in terms of the security system.

You nodded obediently, quite touched at the fact that he made you your own designated password even if you’re only staying for a couple of days.

You weren’t friends with him yet, but he sure made things easier and was quite civilized the entire time, even putting all the trust in you to be in the house but the cams were all on so he can literally see what you would be up to unless you lock yourself in your room.

You follow closely behind him and your friend now holding hands with him as the three of you entered the garage. Your friend gave you a little pat on a head muttering a “good girl” in a light, teasing tone before they eventually drove away, leaving you by yourself for the next few hours.

You actually planned to do a mini tour and explore the other floors besides Jeno’s floor but because you didn’t want to end up falling to any “trap” doors (Jeno did mention that once as a joke but you didn’t want to risk it) you chose to stay in your room instead and watched movies on netflix with a plan to reheat the leftover pizza from last night.

Around midnight, you found yourself by the mini bar, wanting to try some of the alcohol he had so you pop a Hennessy from the glass shelf into a mug instead to pair with some sun chips to munch on at midst of a thriller movie you picked.

After downing what seemed to be a couple of glasses within the passing hours, you nursed an impending headache throbbing in your head. You could only curse, the thought of being completely hangover the next day already pissing you off.

You were more of a social drinker, but you think it’s been a while since the last time you attended a party and back then, it wasn’t so bad. You were still able to walk and say sentences incoherently after a few shots but this was worse.

You’re severely tipsy at this point, gaze all hazy as you attempt to shut the tv off, squinting over the rolling credits you can barely read off from.

You yank your crewneck over your head after feeling too hot, opting for just a mid-length slip as you tumbled out of your room, wanting to head to the bathroom with the sudden urge to splash some icy cold water on your face but you weren’t fully thinking as to where you were heading until you managed to somehow push into Jeno’s room, arms splayed in the dim-lit space.

You stumbled your way into his own bathroom adjacent to his bookcase, locking yourself in.

You were about to pass out inside, suddenly too sleepy to function but still made it out of there only to end up locating his equally large, yet better bed, his sheets cool under your skin which eased up the liquid fire running in your bloodstream.

You weren’t really sure what you did next, but the faint smell of his citrusy scent from his nice, cold sheets, you didn’t care about anything else and instead, slept through the great comfort of it all.

Unbeknownst of you, Jeno did end up going back home earlier than planned, but without your friend this time.

He was too exhausted to even notice that something was truly off by the time he got into bed, shirt off, sleep knocking him out a few minutes in.

“She won’t know.”

He placed your arms on the curve of your back as he pinned you to the wall in a hallway absent of any light.

You feel his sweet, minty breath on your nape, his strong hand tight around your wrists in a vice grip with the intention of not letting you go.

You were so breathless now, letting him do what he wished, his free hand tracing the outline of your thigh as he yanked the hem of your dress upwards, groping you from behind, whispering sinisterly in your ear before kissing the slant your shoulder, his hand snaking dangerously inside the silk fabric until he replaced your bra with his, playing with your breasts in a manner that drove you nuts.

“You’ve thought about this haven’t you?” He pressed, as you whimpered helplessly, back arched with your behind brushing against his. “Answer.”

“Y-yes…”

You sigh, unable to control the soft moan emitting from your throat when he eventually slid his hand in your underwear, callused fingers rubbing your clit now covered with pure arousal, spreading it all over your aching sensitivity.

“I didn’t even have to spit.” He hissed sardonically. “But I think you’ll like that, yeah? What do you think? Do you want me to spit on your pussy?”

“F-fuck… yeah…”

You feel him pull his fingers off you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact when you hear him spit behind you, immediately sliding his hand back into your soiled underwear after doing so, messily mixing the glob of his spit with your slick arousal you think if he kept this up, you would cum in no time without even having him fuck you at all.

“You’re disgusting…” He hummed in satisfaction, ultimately parting your pussy lips so he can pump a finger in, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your spine. “I like that.”

You hear him groan at the feeling your tight walls around his long, slender fingers, a series of swears rolling off your mouth when he began fingering you, fucking his spit into your throbbing hole all desperate for him and him only.

You rubbed your thighs together in a desperate attempt to itch the pulsating sensation between your legs, the bundle of nerves you eventually pressed on in your sleep made you whimper softly, the pleasurable feeling intensifying the more you rubbed yourself.

This was the second time Jeno had unmercilessly plagued your dreams again — like an incubus haunting you in your sleep, but in the end, he gives you what you desire — to come so hard you thought you’d black out.

You’ve never even drawn yourself to that type of high before you even knew who he was, but after what happened in the car, you couldn’t help but think of how good it would be to have him fuck you instead of your friend.

You did feel guilty for having this type of thoughts about your friend’s own boyfriend, but having him wreck havoc in your head after hours, was mind-numbing, it was almost addicting.

You’ve tried and fought so hard to stop thinking about him, trying to replace his face with someone else like Mark, or even Renjun or some other celebrity you fancied but when you’re just a minute away from reaching your peak, you can’t help but bring him back and let him take over you, his face alone making you come so hard your legs would shake as the raw lust mixed with shame riddled all over your skin.

Tonight was the same, except you were actually in his house and on his bed, touching yourself without any awareness about your surroundings and absolute care in the world, not when you had creeped your finger inside your now wet underwear, intending to finger yourself on your side, but before you could do that, you tucked yourself under the comforter seeking for warmth, back flat on the mattress as you slide your hand back in, moaning at the contact once again, legs propped with your knees bumping against each other as you played with yourself, eyes tightly shut.

“It hurts…” You whimpered lightly, still dreaming as you tilt your head to the side, brows furrowing in frustration. “I need…”

Jeno, who had been sleeping just right beside you, eventually stirred, turning to face you with a sigh, starting to be aware with the noises you were making but thought it was a part of what seemed like a dream for him too so he made no move until you inched closer and closer, now only one move away from touching him.

You’re facing him now, his familiar sweet scent elating your senses, it being the only thing to make you move faster, your middle finger playing with your growing wetness before you eventually slid it in, biting your lip at how tight you felt and wishing it was him doing it for you instead.

“Jeno…” You huff, you free hand snaking under your slip to grope your breast, hissing from how hard your nipples had gotten.

Jeno, now half-asleep, responded with a tired “hmm” as he hovered closer, his hand landing on your hip to pull you closer to him, sealing the small gap between the both of you with his face now resting on the curve of your shoulder.

He hears you purr sweetly, fingering yourself faster when you feel him lay a light kiss on your bare skin, his hand finding your jaw so he can tilt your chin up, kissing you there but deeper.

You didn’t even care anymore. No shame surging through you thinking this was a mere wet dream even if it felt too real, so real you could actually see him in the shadow but because the lights were so dim, you couldn’t make a face but his beautiful scent and warmth was more than enough.

You just needed to feel him, have him ruin you more just like how he does in your dreams.

“Aren’t you tired?” He whispered huskily, realizing you were fingering yourself when he circled his own around your wrist, stopping you. “What are you doing?”

“I want…” You mumbled, distress coating your tone when he yanked your hand from your underwear ever so gently. “I want to cum…”

“Want to?” he cooed, keeping his eyes close as he parted his lips open to suck your slick arousal from your fingers, earning another moan from you before he let you grab him on the shoulder, his own hand now snaking inside your underwear.

“Fuck, just-just put it in, please…” You begged, circling your arms around his neck as you lifted your leg, resting it on his hip.

You hear him hum, the deep rumble of it making your head go numb.

He wasted no time, pleased with your whines when he slid his finger inside your soaked pussy, fingering you slowly until you found yourself in a verge of breaking out of a sob, your knuckles turning white on his shoulder as he fucked you faster and harder at your request, fully attentive with the way you were squeezing him, sucking him further into your throbbing cunt, making him go crazy for how increasingly wet you’ve become.

“J-jeno!”

You half-screamed, back arching as he hovered on top of you, his head disappearing on the crook of your neck to kiss you right there before you feel his teeth bite the strap of your slip, yanking it down your shoulders.

He was going way faster now, fingers curving up to rammed on your sweet spot as you struggled under him, thighs closing tightly around his flexed arm just when you’re about to reach your peak.

“Don’t you want to come?” He smiled sleepily, sucking your left nipple with so much want it only drove you closer to your orgasm. “If you’re a good girl, you will, won’t you?”

It was scary how it feel too damn real — you could even hear him up close and personal and it was too overwhelming, but you couldn’t open your eyes, not wanting this dream to ever end, not when he’s about to make you cum so hard like this.

So you pushed through it, the lewd squelching of your wetness from him fucking into you the only thing you could hear, his equally pleased moans gracing your ears when you tell him you’re almost there.

“Fuck, fuck…fuck! I’m,” You cried, shaking violently as you finally snapped, hands flying on his in an attempt to stop him from fingering you in a brutal pace but he didn’t allow you.

Instead, he forced you to ride through it all as you cursed, head thrown back until you began sob from overdrive, thrashing and squirming under him only to make him pin your arms above your head, your slip pulled all the way to your neck, letting him feel your bare skin, your underwear being torn by him, tossing it on the marbled floors.

“I’m fucking you.” He growled, eyes parting slightly, unable to see you fully but the feeling of having you all naked and weak under him made him a little crazy. He wasn’t even sure if this was just a dream anymore, but he had his own personal desires needed to be taken care of. “You’ll let me, right?”

“Please…” You begged as he lifted your dress all the way to your face, turning it into a blindfold causing you to spread your legs wider for him, too aroused with the way he was trying to limit your senses. “Fuck… just do whatever you want, please…use..use me…”

“Can you even take me?” He smirked, tracing small kisses from your jaw all the way to your sternum as your breath hitched. “You’re this desperate, huh?”

You hear him unbuckle his belt as you begged, wanting him to give it to you already, afraid that this dream might come into an end.

“Please, Jeno…”

“Sounds better when you say it like that…”

He sighed, giving himself a few generous strokes before you felt the tip of his hard cock rub your pussy, giving you a few jabs before he slowly slipped inside you just halfway, wanting you to get used to his size so he waits for a tap which came just a few moments later, and gives it to you, a matching lustful moan being knocked out from yours and his.

“So b-big…”

You grabbed his biceps as he held his breath, trying his best not to fuck you like a wild animal for how amazingly tight and warm you felt around him, squeezing around him repeatedly, almost drawing him to the edge.

“Your pussy can take it…” He whispered, fucking into you slowly. “If I fuck you like this, you’ll take it…and if I go faster?”

“Ah!” You cried as he snapped his hips into you, the wetness of your pussy coating his entire cock, drawing him deeper into your cunt. “Don’t stop… fuck, f-fuck feels so good, so so good.”

“I know, baby…” He hissed vehemently, face buried into the crook of your neck as you let him fuck you faster, the slightly deep baritone of your tone intensifying the fact that he wants to ruin you, even if this wasn’t reality because god knows what he will do it had been, but for some reason, he didn’t felt any type of shame if this wasn’t a dream— just the carnal desire he felt for you, the girl who seemed to hate him for no valid reason.

You clutched the sheets as he pistons in and out of you, ultimately driving the both of you to each other’s peak.

He doesn’t let you touch him, his hand fixed to your wrists on top of your head as your jaw went slack, breath hitching as your legs trembled, alerting him that you were there.

“Fuck, spread your legs wider.” He demanded through gritted teeth, strong thighs stuttering against yours as you obediently did what he asked. “That’s it, pretty girl.”

It didn’t take long when the two of you finally came, you being the first to snap as he followed-through just a few seconds later, pulling out of you so he can cum on his bed sheet instead.

You immediately fell asleep right after, smiling through it all just like he did, the looming taste of regret awaiting to ruin everything in the morning.

Or would it?

You awoke to an unfamiliar bed, already panicking upon finding out you’ve been sleeping in his room the entire time so you quickly pad down the silent hall, disappearing inside your own room with a huff.

You ignore the throbbing headache in your head as sat on your bed, a little shaken and not knowing to go about explaining what just happened if he was aware of it, but you think he’s not even home or if he was, did he end up sleeping elsewhere?

You grabbed your crewneck and fixed yourself in front of the mirror, about to head downstairs and find him when you feel something odd, so you lift the hem of your dress, discovering that you didn’t even have an underwear on.

The memory of him taking it off you haunted your train of thought — last night felt too raw, too real and you think it maybe because you’re starting to be delusional, using the advantage of staying in his house and touch his stuff that weren’t yours.

You assume this might have catered to it all and you weren’t even sure if that’s something to be happy or angry about.

You figured it wasn’t — in fact, it was too wrong and you wanted out so you immediately text Tony for an update before heading downstairs to find Jeno.

Jeno, you learn, was not alone.

It was a Saturday after all, and he happens to be on the phone by the living room, his full attention watching the glowing fireplace in front of him, energy drink on-hand as your friend darted from the kitchen, immediately seeing you.

“Oh, she’s up!” She announced, running to hug you with a beam. “Jina and I are going to get our nails done and she’s picking me up, you wanna come?”

“Oh, um… that’s okay.” You falter as Jeno turned to look at you, gaze unreadable. “I’m leaving soon anyway, like going back to my place.”

“Oh! Well maybe next time? Jeno is leaving soon too but won’t be dropping me off. Jeno, help her okay?”

You avoid the way he’s looking at you now, quite embarrassed with the fact that you literally just slept in his bed and even dreamed of him fucking you. You just hoped he had no idea, and if he did know, you knew you couldn’t bear to show face any longer.

“I’ll plan us another date. Just you and I. I promise!”

You let your friend drag you to the entrance and albeit dazed from the unholy thoughts you were suddenly having about Jeno, you managed to brush it off and watch your friend leave, waving her a small good-bye, the guilt surging through you once again after seeing her.

You were just about to lock the door when you feel him hover behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the sound of his deep voice invading your cloud of thoughts.

“I’m gone for one night and you’re suddenly touching stuff that aren’t yours?”

So he did know. But does he know?

“I’m sorry…” You exhale, sighing regretfully but refused to look at him in the eye. “Got a little drunk then looked for the bathroom—“

“See… that wasn’t the only thing I’m upset about though.”

You gulped as you feel him walk closer so you slowly back away, the shocked gasp leaving your lips as you feel the pressure of the door behind you, him towering over you now.

“What?”

“Do you know what I’m talking about?” He questioned, a little on edge. “Don’t act dumb now.”

“I said I was drunk and I’m sorry.” You apologized sincerely, the overwhelming silence skyrocketing your anxiety. “If there was any damage—”

“No, that’s not…” You hear him chuckle as he drove his hand to the door, cornering you like a predator, but you remain still, stopping yourself from looking up or it was going to over. “Do I have to explain?”

“I don’t…”

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

Your eyes rounded in shock, immediately tilting your chin up so you can look at him in the eye this time, suddenly angry at his accusation.

“What made you say that?” You snapped, watching him shake his head in amusement but you weren’t buying it. “Jeno.”

“You’re something else.” He whispered softly, eyes searching something in yours before you feel him inch closer to your ear, his lips brushing across the shell of your ear. “You’re insane. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Jeno, what the fuck?”

You pushed him off you but he could only laugh, head tilting to the side, a smirk now evident on his face.

He was too handsome, it almost drove you nuts if it wasn’t for the way he just insulted you.

“Guess I’d be the first but don’t worry, I’m not that angry, you know?”

You clenched your jaw, watching him advance to you again with an intent to pin you against the door.

“You’re full of shit. I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about when all I’ve done is —”

“We fucked.” He sighed, reeling closer when you clamped your mouth shut, looking away from him. “Why, you thought you were dreaming?”

“You’re joking.”

“See, I’d like to think I was. The whole time I thought the same until I find you in my bed in the morning.”

You faltered, unable to think straight when you feel him trace the outline of your jaw, grabbing you by the chin gently to make you shift your attention back to him.

“Jeno.”

“You said my name too. Just like this.” His darkened gaze pierced yours, pupils blown. “You like me that much?”

“We can’t do this.” You grab his wrist, pushing him away with a huff. “It was a mistake!”

“I’d like to think the same but for some reason…” He took another step, completely caging you in just like you were always meant to be for him. “You’re fucking everything up.”

“How is that my fault —”

“You should’ve pursued me first, that’s all.”

Your eyes widen as he cradled your face, drawing you completely speechless.

Turns out, he was crazier, even more sinister with the way he’s touching you so inappropriately right now you feel like pushing him off and running out to escape but you simply couldn’t. You knew you wanted him too even if you shouldn’t.

Not when the damage has already been done, and you’ve opened a pandora box, unleashing his hidden desires on board with yours, the sinful thoughts you’ve been trying so hard to seal away for no one to figure out.

“You don’t give a fuck about her?” You swallowed a lump in your throat, a pained expression on your face as he kept up with his ministrations, his hand now holding yours. “Why are you touching me…”

“I like you.” He confesses with a shrug like it was something so simple to do, his piercing gaze meeting yours again. “You think I’m into your friend?”

“You’re sick.”

You say through gritted teeth, raw anger still there but the more you allowed him to stare you down like this, the more it dissipated. The desperate hold you had around it vanishing to thin air.

“And you think you’re not?”

There was that same fiery edge to his tone now, his grip around your hand tightening. You try to break free from his grasp until you hear his phone ring. You were just about to use that as way to completely push him away, but he cut you off, demanding you to stay still.

“We’re not done.”

You watch him answer the call, fear on your eyes when you discovered it as your friend asking if he could pass the phone over to you just because you weren’t answering yours.

“Talk to her.” He demanded, his stern tone sending shivers all over your body when you placed his phone near your ear.

“Hey,” You greeted your friend, trying to sound as normal as you could before shying away from the way Jeno’s eyeing you right now. “Was in the shower. What’s up?”

You let your friend take-over, asking if you wanted anything from a specific shop near the nail salon she was in and had been trying so hard to get your mind out of the gutter for the past minute that seemed to flow by in forever. You found yourself stuck in the middle — part of you wanted to tell her about what you did just like that no matter what the consequences were but the other half simply haunted you, did you really want to stop? When the guilt should be burning you alive right now but for some reason, you hardly felt anything and you weren’t sure what to make of that.

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

“The one with stars is cute but you don’t have to— it’s okay,” You shook your head, completely missing the fact that Jeno had gotten even closer. You catch on to him before he lowers his head to the side of your face, about to murmur something.

“Stop.” With the phone away from your lips, you attempt to get away but he only holds you still, hand fixed to the curve of your waist. “Jeno—”

“Just tell me the details later!” Your friend squealed over the phone. “And tell Jeno to read my text!”

The call ended just before you could utter something but the phone from your hand was snatched away in a millisecond, suddenly finding yourself gasping when Jeno placed his knee in between your thighs, feeling you up with his clothed knee, his hand now groping your breast.

“Quit it, won’t you?” You bit your lip, hand fisting his top as he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. “You want to run away so bad but I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do so don’t lie to yourself.”

“Jeno, stop,” You begged, arousal already pulling in your underwear when he forced you to grind down on his thigh, holding all your weight up alone with just that alone. “Jeno…”

“I’ll let you go f that’s what you want.” He grunted as you began to grind on him, growing more aroused with the way you were whining, struggling on his thigh. He challenged you, even if he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist all of this.

Resist him.

You whimpered as he removed his thigh between your legs, letting you off but you don’t make a move.

“You want to go?” You could only gaze back at him, completely in trance as he grinned down at you, his sardonic expression reeling you in. “Then go.”

It didn’t take long until you finally snapped altogether, crashing yourself to him to latch your lips on his in sheer frustration, an audible groan coming from him as he nibbled your bottom lip, lifting you up, hands all over your body.

Sooner or later, you found yourselves in bed, having to have exhausted each other but there were no words shared after it all.

You weren’t even sure what to do next as you laid there beside him, watching him sleep on his back, head turned away from yours. It was then you felt your heart crumble into pieces, the immense jolt of pain suddenly waking you up from trance.

Do I really want to do this?

You left the next morning just like that, not wanting to pursue this wrong deed at all, and without a word other as you hailed a taxi. You deleted and blocked his phone number and made a plan to somehow try to avoid him and your friend for the next few months, but it wasn’t simple like that, and yet, you tried to stay away.

For the next six months, it was like that — with you and your friend slowly falling apart because you no longer shared classes for second semester and you made no amends to even see or spend time with her, having to have met other friends you shared classes with and then her, with the boys and their girls.

You were also thankful of Jeno not pursuing anything with you too. You barely saw him around due to the fact that he did sign up for more sport-related activities so naturally, he disappeared from your sight. He must have thought that it was clearly a mistake just like you did, and you fought to repent for your sins and you wished he did too.

You didn’t keep track about anything that had to do with them anymore and decided to focus on your studies like you’ve always had from the beginning to prepare yourself for graduation and university requirements. Your great efforts did pay off in the end, having to graduate with almost on top of all your classes and getting into one of your top three universities.

Life seemed great for you — quite elated for the next journey you’re bound to go on for the next two years now that senior year was over and so was the evening dinner you had to attend because it was mandatory despite wanting to opt out of it but you made sure to leave early as you had no plans to sit in the fancy banquet of a five-star hotel and “get entertained” when everyone either sat around to chill or lose themselves in the dimmed down dance floor.

By 11 pm, you bid your goodbyes to a panel of teachers, one of them being your favourite, just in the next room in the hall, then gunned down to the parking lot where you parked your car.

You dug your keys in your purse, humming to yourself when you spot someone’s slick black shoes right next to your car so you stop and blink, shifting your attention the wide plain of his familiar broad back, his white dress shirt being the only article of clothing he has on with some tailored black plants that probably cost five months worth of rent.

“Jeno.”

“Nice ride you got.” He drew the cigarette away from his lips, grey smoke hitting your face as you slowly took a step back, unable to form any coherent sentence upon realizing that he’s standing before you now. “New model too. Gift, maybe?”

You do know you’ve been trying to avoid him.

As much as you tried however, he was there, always in a crowd and you never missed a handsome face like his. He burned in the back of your head so easily, but it was too difficult to get him out no matter how many distractions you could come with, and even if most of it worked in your favour he still lived inside your head like a parasite.

A parasite you may never end up getting rid of.

“I’m going home.” Was all you said, trying to stay stoic and unaffected as he advanced to you, even more irresistable now that he’s worked out more and grew his hair a little longer, a strand from his gelled back fringe curving on his forehead and it did nothing but clench your jaw.

He was just too handsome, you were close to believing no one would be able to resist him at all, not even the new arm candy he brought as a date to dinner since your he has apparently broken up with your friend a month before graduation due to a sudden drastic change in her family’s living situation.

You soon find out she was never coming back, and apparently “long distance relationships” wasn’t Jeno’s thing.

“This early?”

There was a coy smirk on his face, cigarette resting between his lips. You stood there, liking the smell, reminding you of your father back home so naturally, you stayed where you are, feet starting to hurt from the five inch heels you regretfully wore to dinner.

“Yeah, I have work the next morning.”

He’s one step away from you now, his full attention scanning your red dress from head to toe, liking the tight fit around your soft curves. You try to stand your ground anyway, albeit about to burst into shivers from the way he narrowed his eyes to you now, blowing another puff of grey you ended up inhaling into your system as well for how damn close he’s gotten, invading your comfort zone.

“That’s a shame.” He circled around you like some sort of a predator, but without touching you until you feel him stop just inches away, his hard chest brushing against your back. “Well go on, your car is right there.”

Your breath hitched as you began to walk to your car, unlocking the back door to throw your purse into with a slam. You don’t say anything as you placed your hand on the handle, chewing on your lips as he quirked an eyebrow, wanting to know what seemed to make you look a little stressed and all tensed up.

“Your date.” You slowly met his amused gaze. “How long?”

“Didn’t sleep with her if that’s what you were wondering.” You didn’t even want to lie — the wave of relief crashed through you, engulfing you in so you let go of the handle and headed to him, letting your burning desire drag you all the way to his arms as he pulled you into a suffocating embrace. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Jeno flung his cigarette off his lips to kiss you hungrily causing you to moan in his mouth, tasting the peppermint candy he’s had and the slight bitterness from the cigarette but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care until he threw you in your backseat, ripping your underwear off you so easily and gave it to you right there and then, until you were in a verge of tears, unable to think straight as you moaned his name all over again like some sort of a mantra, dragging the both of you into eternal hell.

And to hell with him it is.

#jeno x reader #nct jeno smut #jeno smut #jeno x you #nct dream smut #nct smut #kpop smut #lee jeno smut #one shot smut #killshotbabe

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multific · 1 year

Text

The End or The Beginning

Vincent De Gramont x Reader

Summary: In order to save John's life. You offer yours.

You were a really good assassin. Many fought to have you work for them.

John was a really old friend of yours.

You knew him even before he left.

In your eyes, John was a difficult man.

He wanted out, then he wanted in and now he wants out again?

He said he wanted to be free. But freedom is all he had.

You understood the reason he took revenge. You understood that Santino didn't give him a second choice.

But you were a firm believer that freedom starts within. And then you can achieve it.

John was never free.

He might have buried his guns. But he never buried the assassin within him.

And now, now you had to yet again, save his ass.

But The Marquis was a completely different case.

You heard about him and you also knew that this fight against John might never fully stop.

So, you had a simple offer.

"I'll work for you and in exchange you and the High Table leave John Wick alone. He will be a free man and you get to have me on your side." a simple offer. Anyone would be stupid to say no.

You were legendary.

But you also had a feeling that the Marquis would be too smart to give up John Wick and too cunning to give up the opportunity of you working for him.

You knew he would try and make you work for him.

So, you were careful with him. You heard about him after all.

When he asked you into his office so he can give you an answer, you were happy to walk in and not only put on a show, but also enjoy it.

You knew this would be difficult, but you were ready.

Or so you thought.

You certainly were not ready for the gorgeous red and black suit he was wearing.

You were not ready for the handsome face waiting for you.

You honestly thought the Marquis would be an older man like Winston.

But you were wrong.

Very wrong.

He was handsome, smart, looked good in a suit and he had power.

He was tall, lean yet muscular, and that accent...

You thought you had the upper hand... you were wrong.

Very wrong.

And judging by the smirk on his face, he was aware of it as well.

You watched him as he was thinking about your proposition.

You were honestly ready for almost any idea he would have.

You were ready for him to come up with something where John would still need to die.

You even thought he might somehow go as far as having you kill John.

"Would you die for John Wick?" he suddenly asked.

"Die for him?"

"Yes, would you?"

You had to think for a second.

"No."

"Then why offer your services for the rest of your life in order to save his?"

"Because I'm sick and tired of it. Ever since he killed that asshole's son, all I hear is how great he is. All I see is my friends die to his hands."

"Then why not kill him yourself?"

"Because John and I took a vow to never fight against one another. And he has lost so much already, death would be kind to him." Vincent looked you up and down, trying to find the catch in your whole story.

"I'll take your offer. You will work for me and Jock Wick shall be forever forgotten and left alone. But you already knew I would take the offer right?"

"If not you, someone else would have."

---

You working for Vincent made you two become closer by the day.

You learned a lot about him and his work ethic.

To say that you were rather used to it after a couple hours would be difficult to say, but you got used to him way too quickly.

Some would say alarmingly too fast.

But in this industry, you had to.

Or at least that is what you told yourself so that your mind would be at ease.

But both you and Vincent knew that you were just as crazy as him.

You both knew that he liked you just as much as you liked him.

And fuck... he looked way too good in a suit!

He invited you as his guard to an event.

The man was basically a walking full-course meal, it was hard to concentrate.

The event in question was a charity where they were selling all kinds of things.

Expensive things.

Very expensive things.

Vincent said he was only there to be present because there are powerful people present.

But he also said if you wished to bid for an item, go for it.

And an item did catch your eye. It was a beautiful opal necklace. It was sold as a cursed item.

"This beautiful necklace was once owned by Mrs Melony Jones. It was said she was a witch and she cursed the necklace. Many believe the deaths of the owners following were due to this curse. Starting price is 200,000 dollars."

There was something about it. You had to have it.

And in the end, it was yours. For only 575,000 dollars, you were the happy new owner of the opal necklace.

Vincent watched you closely during the entire thing. He had never seen you so excited about something, it was good to see your passion because you just had to have the necklace.

In the end, the necklace was given to you in a sealed box with a caution note.

"Cursed item... you have quite the taste."

"Something about this is just so beautiful."

"Maybe that it was found next to a decapitated woman?" he asked with a smirk.

"At least you know what happened to me if I die."

"You don't believe in curses?"

"I believe if I see one." you looked up at him and locked eyes. "Oh, here's one." you smiled and Vincent did too.

When you were called over to pay, Vincent stepped in front of you, paying for the necklace.

"You didn't have to."

"Are you going to wear it?" he asked as you two got into his car, ready to head home and for him to drop you off.

"I think I will just put it into my collection."

"You have a collection of cursed items?" you laughed a little.

"No! I have a collection of vintage jewellery and items." you said as you turned to him. "I don't believe in curses, but I wouldn't risk it either. It will look nice on my shelf." Vincent turned and looked at you. You looked so gentle and pure.

If he didn't know that you are a vicious killer, he would believe that you were a simple woman.

He had to remind himself that you were indeed a woman. Your curves in that dress certainly reminded him but now, so did your eyes.

"I would love to see your collection one day."

"Oh? So you want to come to my house? Or is this just an excuse to come to my house?"

"Yes." he replied, eyes shining and you smiled.

You watched as his driver turned into your street.

"Would you like to see it now?" you looked back at him just as his finger reached your knee.

"Maybe. You just have to say the words, Mon Amour."

The words.

Something he told you only on your first week of working with him.

"I want you." you hand suddenly grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him towards you. You gasped as his other hand reached behind you and pulled you in to meet his lips.

The devilish grin on his face and he pulled back should have been a warning.

But it was over for you when his finger ran up to your panties, slowly pulling it away so he could reach his destination.

His fingers were long and skilled.

---

For months you thought he only wanted you for your skills.

For months you believed he seduced you because it was the easiest way to keep you by his side.

You truly believed it.

Until one day.

He was in his office, having a couple men in there for important business. As usual.

But when one of the man had a rather... questionable comment about you... Vincent snapped.

The man ended up with two bullet holes.

"Everyone who dares to disrespect, MY WOMAN, gets that fate. Am I clear?" everyone in the room nodded as they fled.

"I could have killed him my self." you told him as he pulled you to another room so his office can be cleaned.

"I needed to send a message. No one messes with us." you smiled at him. He looked furious, still ridding the adrenaline the anger gave him upon hearing those words thrown at you.

"No one messes with us... I quite like that."

"You should marry me. I would much prefer to shout, wife than woman."

"Oh? Is that so? Where is my ring? Romantic dinner and a speech about how I changed you for the better? How you cannot live another day without me?"

"I think we both know you changed me for the worse." he smirked. He reached into his pocket, getting out a small box and opening it. In there was a lovely vintage ring. You looked up into his eyes than back at the ring. "But I truly cannot live another day without knowing you are fully mine. Not just as the trained assassin, but more as the amazing woman. What do you say? Will you marry me?"

"Vincent... You know I joke a lot about things. I actually never expected for you to pull out a ring." you looked up into his eyes again, all you could see was sincerity. "I would love to marry you." he smiled and pulled the ring out, placing it onto your finger.

"Then you shall be mine and I shall be yours. Not my bodyguard, not my assassin but mine." you knew he was trying to sound romantic, and this was his version of romance. But it did sound rather possessive.

"Can we get married on top of the Eiffel tower? Probably not... too windy I assume. Then how about Italy? You know I love Tuscany?"

"You name it, it's yours."

"Then can I have you?"

"You already have me." you reached up with your arms around his neck, leaning in for a kiss.

"Can you take me on that table?" you pointed at it behind you. He smirked.

"I believe, that can be arranged." he easily scooped you up with your two legs and walked you to the table.

His lips never leaving your neck as he started to remove both of your clothes.

You offered up yourself for John Wick's life.

What you believed to be the end for you was only the beginning.

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Mafia Wife [Sonny Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 1 – La Famiglia Giordano.

Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“You wanted to name our first-born daughter Gabriella.” / “You’re Gabriella, aren’t you?”

“The underboss’s wife”; that’s who you are, and the whispers of enemies, family and colleagues alike know it too. You’re no stranger to the underworld of crime surrounding you including the one run by the Corleone family’s underboss; Santino Corleone. The streets run red with blood and brutality under Santino’s influence but it’s Santino who feels hit by the thunderbolt at the very sight of you—pushing away his womanizing and notorious unfaithfulness. You unexpectedly find yourself in a position of power balancing your marriage with the fate of the Corleone’s family’s future whether it be through Santino’s infamous brutality or the love he finds amidst the man he claims to be.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of violence & death / Alcohol use / Pregnancy / Childbirth.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The very first chapter of my Sonny Corleone x Reader fic is FINALLY here!! 🥰✨ Thank you guys SO much for all of the endless support and love this fic received when it was just an idea and barely typed out! I'm so glad to finally have it up. By far the most exhausting and longest part of the fic process is planning a brand new one for me, and I had definitely been much busier than usual when planning out/writing this fic which is why it took so long to write. I had to give something for the Santino girlies as I'm one myself!! 👀❤️ Please read ALL of the tags on this fic on AO3 before diving into the chapters as it'll give you a good understanding as to what the entire fic and chapters will be like. This goes for ALL fics I write! The tags are there for a reason. This fic is also 18+ only, just like all of my other works forever and always. This is meant for adults to read only. ✋🏻

Chapter 1: La Famiglia Giordano.

[ Barzini Family Estate, 1948 ]

“Nobody wants another war,” Don Barzini states, watching the ice soaking in his glass of whiskey. “Nobody wanted another war; isn’t that how it always goes?”

Don Tattaglia gives his head a shake, relaxing in the leather armchair he sits across from Barzini. “We have Sollozzo to thank for all of that.”

Having an otherwise civil discussion between two closely allied business partners and old friends, the bond Don Barzini and Don Tattaglia’s family share has been stronger than ever since Sollozzo.

Despite successfully allying together against the Corleones throughout the Five Families War and coming together for talk over business, neither Barzini nor Tattaglia can ignore the air of tension that’s formed between them now.

Barzini can easily tell Tattaglia is unnerved as he sips his whiskey again, savoring the smokey notes of the liquid over his tongue while noticing how Tattaglia is nearly chugging back his drink.

“You’re tense,” Barzini comments, somewhat surprised by Tattaglia’s behavior. “Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind or not?”

“How can I not be?” Tattaglia swallows down his drink.

“You’re looking at all of this the wrong way, my friend,” Barzini gives a reassuring smile. “You’re on the winning side. The Godfather has no leverage over either of our families or—”

“Vito Corleone isn’t my concern,” Tattaglia interrupts.

“Hmm,” Barzini pauses, taking a sip of his drink again. “Then that’s a first.”

“It’s his son,” Tattaglia adds.

“Which one?” Barzini rolls his eyes. “They’re all equally useless in their own ways.”

Tattalia opens his mouth to answer before pausing for a moment; a look of absolute defeat crosses his expression, forming into regret, then helplessness. “Does the name ‘Gabriella’ ring a bell to you?”

Barzini raises a curious brow. “Maybe. Should it? Does The Godfather have another daughter we don’t know about?”

“He has a daughter-in-law,” Tattaglia answers, “Gabriella Corleone. She’s the daughter of Francesco Giordano.”

Barzini tenses for a moment, no longer focusing on his whiskey. “I… I see.”

“You know Gabriella then?” Tattagia asks back.

“Not personally, but her name was spoken often in my household. Was,” Barzini emphasizes.

Tattaglia sighs softly, giving his head a shake.

“Emilio wanted to marry her,” Barzini continues, mentioning his eldest son. “He spoke of Gabriella fondly and often, but she refused him and his advances. Now you’re telling me she’s part of the Corleone family?”

“Francesco did well hiding the news from us for the most part,” Tattaglia points out. “Everyone else must have known.”

“No, no,” Barzini shakes his head, refusing. “I don’t think of it in that way. Francesco is a dear friend. He doesn’t ‘hide’ things. He values the privacy he can give his family.”

“If you want to put it that way,” Tattaglia mumbles. “It’s none of our business, is it? She married Santino Corleone, the underboss.”

Barzini freezes in his seat, attempting to calm himself down internally as Tattaglia immediately picks up on Barzini’s shocked expression.

Tattaglia nods grimly, “do you know what you’ve done?”

“Don’t,” Barzini mutters softly, holding up his free hand.

“She’s pregnant,” Tattaglia adds. “Do you even care? Do you know what’s going to happen now? To your investments? Your wealth? Your bank accounts with Giordano?”

Barzini suddenly lets go of his whiskey glass, watching as the glass shatters to pieces over the floor and the alcohol spills free onto the wood.

Barzini covers his face with shame, feeling a knot of heavy emotions cause him to feel nauseous almost instantly with unimaginable guilt.

A heavy silence sits in the air between the two men for a minute as they ponder, having nothing else to say to each other.

“I will apologize to Gabriella,” Barzini finally speaks, raising his head out of his hands.

“You can’t,” Tattaglia frowns. “You can’t do anything anymore.”

[ 1921 ]

“Gabriella… Little Gabriella.” You’re the first-born daughter in your family to four older brothers, and the eldest to your twin sister, born just forty minutes apart.

Although your mother went into labor knowing she’d welcome two children instead of one on June 19th, 1921, nothing could surpass the joy your mother and father felt when you were born.

Just as your four eldest brothers had been born, your mother gave birth to you and your twin sister Bella at home, surrounded by two Italian-American nurses from the community who had helped your mother through her previous deliveries.

Your parents weren’t sure what to expect when your mother realized she was pregnant with her fifth child since the last four children she gave birth to were all boys.

“Will it be another boy this time?” Your father chuckled and placed his hand over the top of your mother’s seven-month-old baby bump. “Perhaps two boys?”

“Oh, please,” your mother let out a laugh, “we have more than enough boys. I would love a daughter this time around. One boy and one girl, or twin girls even.”

“What a dream that would be,” your father grinned. “It seems like we’ve had all the luck in the world for having sons. No matter,” he leaned over, kissing your mother’s baby bump gently. “Boy or girl loved all the same. Spoiled like his or her other siblings. Only two this time…” He pulled away, looking up at your mother. “I can’t wait to meet them, darling.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” your mother blushed and laced both of her hands with your father’s. “Two more additions to the family. You know what I said when we first married? About baby names?”

“I do, mhmm,” your father nodded. “You wanted to name our first-born daughter Gabriella.”

“I do,” your mother smiled warmly. “I still do.”

“Of course. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I still remember,” he gave your mother’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I hope this time we get to meet little Gabriella.”

“I hope so too, my love.”

Even before you were born, you were loved. The idea of you was loved, your name was loved, and everything and anything you could be from birth to adulthood to old age was loved.

Nothing compared to how overwhelmed with joy your mother felt when she smiled up weakly at you, tears in her eyes from excruciating contractions hitting her again and again to see and hear one of the nurses declare, “it’s a girl!”

Before your mother went back into labor to give birth to your twin sister forty minutes later, she held you in her arms and cooed to you through her tears of happiness. “Gabriella… Gabriella...”

She kissed your cheeks wet with tears as your father let you hold his finger with your tiny hand, looking down upon you with so much love and happiness.

You were born into this world loved and welcomed just as your siblings were, and just as you would always be.

Your twin sister and you were born to the Giordano family; a family that came from money which was no secret nor meant to be one.

Your father, Francesco Giordano, better known as “Frankie” by his friends and business partners, was born in Sicily, but your grandparents had already been living in and had immigrated to New York.

Your father came from a lengthy family history of educated individuals; spanning seven generations of university graduates and had graduated from Columbia University himself in 1912.

Your mother, Rosa nee De Luca, who was born in Long Island, New York to Sicilian parents, had met your father in that same year.

Having many connections or even just one to a crime family served to be the best for anyone’s interests, even those who didn’t want to get “involved” indirectly or directly, and then there are always individuals who wouldn’t mind the close ties with the mafia so as long as they stray from direct intervention or get too close, could always reap the benefits of work connections by having powerful friends in powerful places.

Your father and his family practiced the same mantra as many others; don’t get too close to the mafia to avoid getting burned, by maintaining a healthy business relationship and community friendliness.

Since the days of your great-grandfather, your father inherited the ownership of several small banks that his family had started; serving the local community and operating for middle-class families with day-to-day funds, support for home ownership, and loans.

The success of your father’s family business in banking was steady and promising, working out very well to attract a clientele of all kinds from the Italian-American community in particular.

Your father built his business connections where your grandfather left off but also started new ones with the Italian community in the neighborhood and area as well as being involved with all of the crime families himself, but with some more than others.

Everyone, including the mafia, knows Frankie Giordano to be an honest businessman who makes a living to feed his family. Your father also happens to be smart and witty about it too.

Frankie Giordano built a name for himself without feeding off of his father’s legacy and thus deepened the trust and bond the Giordano family already had with the mafia when it came to loans and money laundering.

One could say your father always went to the bank laughing, and the mafia made sure of that for the excellent service rendered by the Giordano banks.

Your father also knew that his future wife—your mother—would benefit greatly from that, and thus so would all of his and her children.

Your father had no intention of keeping the truth and ties of his business affairs from you, your twin sister Bella, or any of your brothers for that matter. He would only wait to tell you all in due time when you’d be mature enough to understand and process it.

Even if in the future and all grown up none of you were remotely interested in the booming world of business and finance, you’d at least benefit immensely from inheritance and the steady flow of wealth and investments.

Your father’s closest business partners were that of the Corleone and Tattaglia families, although the Barzini’s were getting close enough to join the list too.

Your family is protected from conflicting interests and possible hostilities between rival families because your father’s business is legal, public and there’s mutual respect and understanding of what your family’s banks provide with respect grandfathered in.

Despite Frankie Giordano’s wealth and success, your father was never the type of man to flaunt or brag—just maintaining his work ethic with dedication like none other; traits you would indeed inherit from him.

In many ways, your father would see a lot of himself in you as you grew older, such as the fact you too could see light at the end of every tunnel and that you also valued family and morals over money and power.

Such traits and beliefs made your father a true family man under times of turmoil and stress, and it also helped you understand the world around you better.

Your father married your mother, Rosa, in 1914 after almost two years of courtship with no intention to push or rush their relationship for the sake of tying the knot quickly.

Your mother comes from a family of wealthy socialites who built upon their wealth by investing and simply being connected to the right people.

Your parents met each other through a social outing when your mother’s family became all the more interested in investing in Giordano family banks.

“It’s one thing to believe in something such as love at first sight. Love can be so fickle, but when it happens to you, it changes you completely,” your mother had once told you.

The wit and cunning your mother showed growing up as a young woman were learned from family members around her and would no doubt pass on to you as well.

Through your mother, you also discovered your passion and love for art and botany, whereas your twin sister Bella felt the same and was more connected to architecture, nature, and the outdoors.

When your parents settled down and planned to have a family of their own, your brothers, you, and your sister would come from and be born into a family of love and respect that could never be unbound.

You knew from a very young age early on that your parents loved each other very much, and although all couples disagree and have their fights, you still can’t recall a single moment where you heard your parents raise their voices at each other in front of you, let alone fight or argue in front of you and your siblings either.

Growing up, all you knew is you loved and wished for the same peace and calm love your parents shared.

You don’t want to be “madly” in love; you want a peaceful and understanding love—the kind your mother and father share with each other with the kind of expectations they lived through and passed onto you.

Everything you’ve learned about love was through your parents, and it set your heart’s wants and needs as a young woman.

Your mother, who is not easily impressed by just anything, had taught you to be the same and explore your options with all things when you were a teenager.

“What pleases the eye once may not do so the second time. The world is filled with options. Your heart will know what’s best for you.”

While your mother was eighteen years old when she married your father, she gave birth to your eldest brother—Luca—in 1915.

Right up until your mother’s maternity leave, she was a private art teacher in New York City who specialized in teaching about painting; classical, renaissance, religious, and abstract.

Your mother would not return back to teaching part-time until 1936 when your sister Bella and you were about fifteen years old and the family could easily sustain and take care of itself throughout the day.

Your mother also preferred to teach part-time instead of full-time before she began to have children because she preferred to spend most of her time with the grandchildren she welcomed over the years.

Coming up to 1939, you and your sister were eligible bachelorettes in your family alongside one bachelor brother—Giani—but it would be you, the most eligible bachelorette considering your circumstances and your sister’s traveling abroad that would not only bring you upon him—Santino Corleone—but the Corleone family and their history with the Giordano’s in due time.

[ 1920, Hell’s Kitchen, New York ]

“There will never be come a day—” Francesco says, sketching out the outline of a small olive branch over a scrap piece of paper in front of him, “where they outlaw this, my friend. Never. The olive? They could not,” your father admires his sketch, darkening the two olives he drew hanging on the branch. “The olive provides too much—it does too much. You buy it from Vito Corleone—Genco Olive Oil—” he smiles up at Vito who returns the warm expression, popping a black olive in his mouth from the small platter in front of them.

“And you use it in your cooking,” your father continues, taking an olive and putting it in his mouth. “It’s too versatile, too much of a need for the average family to outlaw.”

“I can’t see any Italian family without a bottle in their home,” Vito chuckles quietly.

“Exactly,” your father points out, reaching into the drawer beneath him for a moment.

Vito glances over curiously, watching as Francesco pulls out a concealed bottle of unopened Jack Daniel’s whiskey before setting it on the front counter in front of him.

“You don’t have to worry about the repercussions of buying a bottle or whole barrel of olive oil. This though,” your father taps the back of his fingernails against the bottle of alcohol. “Is a crime. This bottle here.”

Vito raises a curious brow; amusement twinkling in his eyes as to how nonchalantly your father pulled out a bottle of unopened whiskey.

“My father’s favorite drink served on ice. Bought and sold everywhere, now it’s illegal,” Francesco chuckles, shaking his head. “Now, buying and selling alcohol is illegal. Just like that.”

“They could never expect to stop everyone from doing so,” Vito chimes in.

“Exactly, my friend,” your father begins to open up the bottle, grabbing two small glasses from the cupboard beneath the front counter at which he and Vito sit. “They never can, but they know they never could. I don’t know how much longer this silliness will last, but,” Francesco begins to pour Vito and himself a glass of whiskey, “there’s plenty more of where this came from. No questions asked, no eyebrows raised.”

A curious look crosses Vito’s eyes as he takes his glass of whiskey before glancing down at it. Naturally, he immediately begins to wonder how many bottles Francesco has, where he got them from, how he got them, and where they’ll go.

“You are the most resourceful friend I know,” Vito comments, “do I need to ask?”

“You can,” your father replies, knowing, of course, Vito’s curiosity is only normal and expected, “if we can come to an agreement first, my friend.”

Your father was the first man to lend Vito Corleone money; give him his first full loan just by knowing his full name and without any interest.

Your father gave Vito a chance—one of his first chances—without even knowing it, and through such a chance came one lucrative business opportunity after another.

If your father and Vito were involved in something, then it meant there was plenty of money to be made under the table without asking questions and with no risk of getting caught.

Whether your father and Vito formally acknowledged it or not, they were a duo of sorts.

Your father trusted Vito while knowing Vito was indeed settling the roots of his one crime family just as the other mafia families in New York were.

Your father didn’t care about Vito’s involvement in crime or anything of the sort; your father was and is a banker by trade and name, and money always talked.

With prohibition starting in 1920 with a surplus of alcohol to be smuggled from your father’s contacts in Canada, there was nothing but profit to be made from the business for however long prohibition would last.

Securing and solidifying a strong friendship already, the prohibition era would make both your family and Vito’s very wealthy from the moment Vito smiled and shook your father’s hand in agreement, knowing all the same.

That was hardly the beginning of the Giordano and Corleone family’s friendship and ties with one another.

That same year, Vito Corleone would kill Don Fanucci.

Despite the concept being thought of by everyone who had the misfortune to know Fanucci, many didn’t believe Fanucci would be outright killed.

It was merely something men fantasized about to set themselves free of the financial obligations Fanucci put forward and fears they would be killed, extorted, go missing, or worse.

Taking Fanucci out was a fantasy, nobody could do it except for Vito Corleone.

If it was anyone your father had faith in to stand up to a brutish man like Fanucci, it was Vito Corleone, but your father also didn’t expect Vito to murder Fanucci the way he did and so soon.

On that fateful day, your father was closing up his main bank’s branch for the day; having put up the “closed” sign on the front door and lowered the blinds more than halfway down.

He had not yet locked the front door since he was up at the front anyway, and your father would be able to see anyone coming to approach the bank’s entrance before they could even think of trying the door.

At that time, your father was counting some of the spare change in one of the last drawers quietly, noting that it was 5:30 PM and rush hour had fully kicked in.

Humming quietly to himself, Francesco put the spare change in his pocket before closing up the cash register and locking it with his key.

Only for a moment did your father look up to see the faint figure of a passerby without paying too much attention to it.

In a few moments from now, Francesco would lock up the bank and head home; your mother was expecting him with a hot meal on the table and she was pregnant with you and your twin sister Bella at the time.

In a good mood and having enjoyed his work day, your father slowly began to stop humming upon hearing footsteps from that same figure grow closer to the bank’s front door.

Your father knew it wasn’t someone out strolling or wandering, but rather approaching the bank directly and standing in front of the door.

Your father kept his hand over his pistol carefully concealed underneath an old polishing rag on the front counter while watching the figure’s movements by the door.

It was then that Francesco noticed who the figure was, seeing no cause for panic or alarm.

It was Peter Clemenza, and he was revealing himself to your father to avoid a bullet in between the eyes at this hour.

Clemenza lifted up the “closed” sign in front of the door and peeked his head in; urgency in his eyes and beckoning with his hands to be let in.

Your father moved his hand away from the pistol and gestured for Clemenza to enter since the door wasn’t locked.

Sighing in relief, Clemenza quickly entered and shut the door behind him instantly, wasting no time.

Your father could easily tell Clemenza was alarmed but didn’t have a look on his face that spelled it was his problem.

Before your father could barely blink or open his mouth to ask Clemenza what was going on, Clemenza immediately stated, “Fanucci is dead.”

Your father stared back at him in shock, pausing for a moment to take everything in. “What? Dead?”

“Dead,” Clemenza confirms, locking the bank door and taking off his fedora. “I came over here as fast as I could to tell you.”

“Who else knows?” Francesco asked quietly.

“Roth, Genco, and Tessio so far,” Clemenza answered, catching his breath. “This is gonna send fuckin’ shockwaves throughout the neighborhood.”

“My God,” your father muttered under his breath, smoothening out the sides of his slicked-back hair. “And Vito? Does Vito know yet?”

Clemenza chuckles, shaking his head. “Who do you think did it, Frankie? Vito killed Fanucci. Shot that son of a bitch right in his own apartment. Don’t worry—“ He holds up a hand, “Vito handled everything.”

“Does he need anything?” Your father offered, stepping out from behind the front counter.

“Yeah, but I have a feeling you already know what,” Clemenza shrugged his shoulders. “That bastard Fanucci took half of our dime each and every time. He still dealt with your bank, right?”

“He has an account here,” Francesco nodded.

“Good,” Clemenza put his fedora back on, adjusting it. “Because everything in Fanucci’s account needs to all go to Vito now.”

It was true that Fanucci’s death, it now meant his money and assets held at the Giordano banks had to go somewhere, and your father couldn’t agree more to it going straight to Vito.

Fanucci had been stingy and extra hard on Vito over anyone, despite Vito being understanding and gentle to counter each and every time.

Still, Fanucci took hundreds of dollars worth of cuts from Vito’s pay every single time and still threatened to have him killed at the same time.

Francesco had no pity whatsoever towards Fanucci or his family, and if Vito was going to be the one taking back the money Fanucci stole from him and everyone else, then your father would agree to let it happen.

After all, Francesco knew Vito Corleone wasn’t the kind of man to take all that money and spend it on himself.

Vito proved your father’s beliefs about the security of Fanucci’s money and assets being transferred to Vito’s accounts when he saw for himself how Vito spread the money back into the Italian-American community and only taking the exact fair share that he kept track of since Fanucci began taking it.

Afterward, Francesco closed down Fanucci’s account at his bank and erased all existence and history of it, so if the police came around to ask questions, there wouldn’t be a single answer available.

Having Fanucci killed wasn’t something your father expected to happen in 1920—not while prohibition was still ongoing—and by Vito Corleone’s hand, nonetheless.

At the time, the only exciting news for Francesco Giordano was that he was expecting his wife to give birth to twin babies in the upcoming year.

In 1921, you and your twin sister Gabriella were born.

Your family did not live in stress due to any direct involvement in mafia affairs or had any fears to worry about what the mafia and those associated with its lifestyle of crime were doing.

Nothing stopped your family from continuing to live out their lives as normal, peaceful, and lawful with the police and government as many see fit despite what your father had known, seen, and been involved with in the past year.

Your father promised himself that he would never do or say anything to jeopardize the safety and happiness of his family nor put his family in any situation where they would live in fear and become potential targets to anyone or anything.

After all, your father had been expecting the birth of you and your baby sister—experiencing fatherhood all over again and surprisingly to two daughters this time.

Nothing else needed to get in the way of Francesco Giordano when he was welcoming two little babies to his family. Nothing to stress out his wife either and Francesco made certain of this.

It was on June 19th, 1921 that your mother, Rosa, went into labor in the comfort of her own home for six hours to give birth to you and your twin sister.

The same nurses who helped your mother give birth to your brothers were at your mother’s side again as your father also sat with her and held your mother’s hand for comfort—wiping the sweat off of her forehead and making soft conversation.

Everyone involved kept Rosa as comfortable as they best could, remaining vigilant in observation and getting Rosa anything she may need.

“Ti amo,” (I love you) your father whispered in your mother’s ear. “Sei una donna forte e ce la farai.” (You’re a strong woman and you’re going to get through this.)

Your mother’s strength thick and thin always had your father in awe, and your father never left your mother’s side throughout the six hours of tedious and agonizing labor.

Neither of your parents will ever forget the overwhelming joy and excitement they felt hearing the nurse announce, “it’s a girl!” for the first time as your mother gave birth to you.

Your mother smiled throughout her tears as she reached out to hold you and your father teared up too, seeing that he now had a baby daughter.

Sobbing from nothing but happiness and relief, your mother held your tiny self in her arms for a few moments before her body would prepare again to give birth to your twin sister Bella in the next forty minutes.

“Gabriella, Gabriella…” Your father cooed softly, attempting to soothe you as you cried out in your mother’s arms. “Welcome to the world, my beautiful girl.”

If it was a shock to have a daughter after giving birth to so many little boys, the ultimate surprise was your parents realizing that they were having two daughters.

So many happy tears and laughter were shared in that room, relief washing over everyone and the exhaustion of labor beginning to kick in.

Your family welcomed you and your twin sister Bella to the world in 1921, and your mother and father held both you and Bella in their arms, whispering promises that they would love and protect you both no matter what; that they’d do anything to give you and your siblings a good life.

Your eldest brother, Luca, who was five years old at the time was ecstatic, as were four-year-old Romeo, Casio, and little Giani to welcome two baby sisters.

Truly, it was one of the happiest moments of your mother and father’s lives.

In 1922 as you and Bella were just little babies growing up, one thing had become all the more apparent to all men who lived in Long Island—particularly the Italian community and the one in Hell’s Kitchen too.

Crime families at this time had bonded and grown stronger with all the more influence now. They were too powerful to be considered Fanucci wannabees as they could no longer be reckoned with alone.

Such power and influence amidst crime families brought business and organization, but that also meant rampant crime and fear even if it was not always noticeable.

One had to be careful dealing with crime families for whatever reasons since rivalry, although relatively uncommon at the time did exist and caused enough trouble.

Your father was only allied with and close friends with Vito and the Corleone family at the time, so no rivalry concerned him.

“Let me know if you need anything else, my friend,” Francesco said, patting Vito’s shoulder. “I can find a way to get funds to you in Sicily in less than two days if needed.”

“I will be fine, Frankie. Thank you,” Vito chuckled and smiled at your father. “I’m very grateful and appreciative for all the help you’ve provided my family and me.”

“You know I can say the same to you,” Francesco nodded back. “I’m too used to seeing you down these neighborhoods. You’ll be missed, Vito Corleone, but this trip is just what you need, isn’t it? For family and for peace.”

“Exactly,” Vito reaffirmed, “I won’t put it off longer than I need to. Don Ciccio is a withered old man now but he doesn’t deserve to die from something so merciful such as old age.”

“I agree,” Francesco replied. “He is a vile and sick man obsessed with power. He always has been. Maybe once he’s finally out of the picture, the rest of us can peacefully return to Sicily for a family trip as we wish to.”

“Many have said the same to me before,” Vito frowned. “I doubt Ciccio will remember me, but that is exactly what I will use to my advantage. It didn’t have to be this way, but…” Vito stroked his chin, “I lost my entire family to that foul man.”

“You don’t need to justify it to me or anyone else, Vito,” Francesco shook his head. “His death is in your hands now. You know I would come to aid you if I could. Either way, I support you.”

“I know you would, my friend, which is why we must part ways for now,” warmth flickered in Vito’s eyes. I can’t do this to you; you just had your little girls and they need their father with them more than ever.”

“So as long as they get to see their godfather soon again,” your father grinned. “Rosa is expecting you and Carmela all ready for dinner. Mrs. Corleone is expecting now too, is she not?”

“Indeed,” Vito beamed. “And we are taking little Michael to Sicily for this time on this trip.”

At that time, Carmela Corleone was pregnant with her first and only daughter, Constanzia.

“Ah, little Michael,” your father’s eyes lit up. “No naughtiness from the little man, I hope?”

“He’s a good, quiet young man,” Vito let out a soft laugh. “This trip will give him more stories to listen to about Sicily since he won’t remember it when he’s older.”

“Of course,” your father smiled, “just keep that fiery Santino by your side.”

“Carmela says the same,” Vito pointed out. “Don’t worry, I will. He’s a good boy too, I promise, although he could benefit from learning more manners.”

“Can’t we all?” Laughing, the two men shared a farewell hug.

“Be careful and be well, Vito,” your father cautioned. “Enemies may still be lurking in Sicily, looking for you, especially if you seek revenge.”

“It’ll be as if I wasn’t even there.”

[ 1939, Present Day ]

The first to welcome their first children into the Corleone family with Carmela and Vito Corleone excited to welcome a grandchild are Tom and Theresa Hagen; expecting their first baby early next year.

It’s no surprise that at first all eyes were on Santino—the eldest son of the Corleone family—to settle down and start a family first instead of Tom or anyone else, despite Tom being the same age—twenty three.

The only difference between the two men in terms of settling down to have a family was that Tom is in love with an investing in his love life and marriage with Theresa, an American woman, whereas Sonny hardly knows what “settling down” means.

It’s only in Sonny’s best interest to switch from one woman to another, a one nightstand again and again with no care as to how others may see Sonny to be very promiscuous with no shame or intent to stop sleeping around to even think about marrying someone.

Celebrating the baby shower for Tom and Theresa planned today, the nature of the event to both Tom and Theresa is private and intimate, hence their invitations only being sent out to the closest friends of the Corleone family.

Only the Giordano’s, Barzini’s and Cuneo’s are invited today with the vast majority of the women helping with the cooking back inside and the men upstairs in Don Corleone’s office.

Despite the family history with the Giordano’s, this is the first time you’re attending a Corleone family event and the very first time you’ll be visiting the Corleone estate.

Your father and brothers have visited the Corleone’s numerous times previously and know them better than any other business partner or friend, but neither you nor Bella have had the opportunity to yourselves.

Bella is more than halfway through her first semester at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna however, leaving you to be the only woman of the family next to your mother.

With the baby shower celebrations ongoing this afternoon in the courtyard of the Corleone estate to enjoy the fresh spring air and sun, men seeing Vito Corleone inside present Don Corleone with gifts meant for the expecting couple out of respect first.

Connie carefully balances one gift box over another by a table reserved just for baby shower gifts, making sure the presents don’t topple over one another from solely the sheer number of how many there are.

Arriving just five minutes after your father and brother, your chauffer passes clearance at the main gates of the Corleone estate before slowly beginning to park inside.

Your father and brothers have joined Barzini and Cuneo’s sons upstairs in Vito’s office where Sonny, Tom and Fredo also remain, but Michael—the youngest son of the Corleone family—is away at Dartmouth College for study.

Once the topic at hand ends in Vito’s office, Tom will come back out to the courtyard to thank and meet all the guests at the baby shower himself.

The rest of the men are not expected to in order to keep a low profile and spend as much time discussing business with Don Corleone as possible.

The only Corleone family member you know personally is Carmella and you’ve enjoyed every bit of time you’ve gotten to spend with her in the past when Carmela came to visit and bake desserts with you and your mother from time to time.

You know you’ll be meeting Theresa—the one expecting—and Connie Corleone as well for the first time.

“Benvenuti, miei cari!” (Welcome, my darlings!) Carmela happily blurts as she rushes down to the gates to greet you and your mother the moment you two step out of the vehicle.

“Carmela!” Your mother beams, pulling her into a warm hug. “Come stai dolcezza? È da parecchio tempo!” (How are you, honey? It’s been so long!)

“Yes, it has!” Carmela lets out a soft laugh before she cups your cheeks gently. “È passato tanto tempo perché guarda Gabriella! Adesso è diventata una bellissima giovane donna!” (It has been so long because look at Gabriella! She's all grown up now into a beautiful young woman!)

“Hi, Mama Corleone,” you giggle back, giving her a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“And you as well, honey—mwah,” Carmela kisses both of your cheeks again, “she’s grown up to be such a beauty, hasn’t she?”

“Very much so,” your mother happily agrees. “And I’m excited for her to meet your girls!”

“As am I!” Carmela gestures excitedly, “come on in, ladies. All the men are already inside seeing Vito, I doubt they’ll even bother to come step out but in any case—that doesn’t matter. We’re all very excited for Theresa expecting her little one soon!”

“How far along is she?” You ask, walking into the Corleone estate grounds with your mother and Carmela.

“She’s about seven months pregnant now,” Carmela answers. “I can’t wait to introduce you to her. I know all you lovely ladies will get along just fine!”

Before you can say anything else, you step into the Corleone estate’s courtyard with Carmela and your mother to be hit with awe from the beauty of the estate surrounding you.

A gazebo stands in the further end of the courtyard with the manor itself built in a classic American style but with small details to Italian architecture.

The courtyard in which you stand in is surrounded by a blossoming garden, spotless and filled with ample enough space to host over four hundred people comfortably.

“So beautiful,” you murmur in surprise; momentarily turning back to see your chauffer placing the carefully wrapped giftboxes filled with the presents your mother and you chose for the baby shower by the table with the other gifts.

For your baby shower gift to Tom and Theresa, you picked out an abundance of cotton diapers, two bibs, three different pacifiers and a baby mat.

As your mother and Mama Corleone are lost in conversation, you look up to see a heavily pregnant woman—Theresa—rise up from her seat at her table with her hand over her baby bump.

Petite frame, blonde with bright eyes and American, Theresa’s eyes land on you as another woman approaches her by her side—a Sicilian—who looks like a striking combination of Carmela and Vito combined.

You assume this must be Connie—the only daughter of the Corleone family that your mother and Mama Corleone lead you up to now for introductions.

“Here is our lovely Theresa!” Carmela gestures to the pregnant young woman. “Seven months in with her little one already. Theresa, this is the daughter of my best friend, Gabriella. Her family is from Sicily too.”

“Hello,” Theresa shyly reaches out her hand to you. “It’s nice to meet you, Gabriella.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Theresa,” you give her a polite smile, shaking her hand back. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you!” Theresa’s eyes light up.

“And this is my daughter, Connie,” Carmela introduces Connie to you next, and you immediately notice Connie is much less shyer than her sister-in-law Theresa with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes from being introduced to you.

“Hi Gabriella,” Connie grins, “are you the only daughter in your family too?”

“Not exactly,” you let out a laugh, “I have a twin sister but she’s studying abroad.”

“Ah, lucky you! I’m the only sister,” Connie gives your hand a warm squeeze.

“I know what it’s like to grow up with many brothers around you, trust me,” you giggle back, knowing from what your mother told you that the Corleone’s are almost just as big of a family as yours and with many sons.

“Tell me about it,” Connie holds back her laughter and it immediately strikes you that Connie appears to be type of woman you can easily get along with and make the best of friends with her.

Just as warm, loving and trusting as Connie seems, you also can’t push past or ignore how you pick up an explainable kind of yearning sadness behind Connie’s eyes too.

Just as you’re thinking, Connie’s yearning to make a friend with someone like you and knowing she can easily be able to do so considering how close your families are; both of you around the same age and with familiar backgrounds.

Back inside Don Corleone’s office, greetings, congratulations and humble gift giving to Vito Corleone for Tom and Theresa’s baby shower has come to an end as Tom smiles to himself and keeps the stack of guests in the corner of Vito’s office and takes his seat again near his father.

A glass of richly aged bourbon is served for all of the men and Vito’s office door remains slightly ajar to help keep the air from getting stuffy from cigarette smoke.

“But the war,” Sonny begins, unamused, “it doesn’t mean too much for us, anyway.”

“Not at all,” your father says, shaking his head. “It’s a shame with all the bloodshed going on in Europe right now, but our interests remain the same and our assets here are protected.”

“We expect a prosperous new decade of us nonetheless,” Don Barzini adds.

“As do I,” Vito agrees. “One can only be concerned so much as to what strangers abroad are doing or how they risk their lives. We must work together so there’s no war between our families and only peace.”

“I have to say,” Tom speaks up, “to have no rivalry despite working with our families and their investments is impressive, Mr. Giordano.”

“I appreciate your praise, Tom,” Francesco gives Tom a polite smile. “In this line of work, I had to be a salesman and businessman. I hope our families can continue to be civil and work with one another. I know my wife enjoys the company of our family get-togethers and it would also be good for Gabriella as well, considering her sister is in Austria.”

“Ah, how is she?” Vito’s eyes light up in interest. “Enjoying her time abroad?”

“Indeed,” your father nods happily, “Bella is taking a varieties of courses on subjects in the arts, especially music and literature It’s good for her to broaden her horizons but I miss her, and I think Gabriella does too, of course.”

“Ah, very understandable,” Don Cuneo nods.

‘Gabriella?’ Sonny blinks, thinking to himself. ‘Who is she?’

“Michael is the same,” Vito gives his shoulders a shrug. “He is at Dartmouth now and I am proud of him for entering study in political science.”

“He doesn’t wish to follow in your footsteps, Vito?” Don Barzini smirks.

“He wants no involvement whatsoever,” Vito shakes his head. “Which is more than fine with me. Michael seeks a career in politics. I say sometimes American politics can be so foolish, but Michael can also be stubborn when he wants to. Nonetheless,” Vito places his hands down upon his desk, “I’m very proud of him.”

“Indecisive, perhaps?” Your father suggests.

“Nah,” Sonny interrupts, scoffing. “Michael wants to do everything and anything.”

“He is the youngest after all,” Tom chuckles quietly. “Then my sister Connie who is the youngest child of the family.”

“Ah, the lovely Connie,” Francesco smiles warmly, “of course. Michael is a bachelor, then?”

“All my sons are, except Tom,” Vito answers, somewhat unhappy about his answer. “Perhaps that will change, won’t it, Fredo?” Vito gives Fredo a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Sure, Pop,” Fredo says back sheepishly.

“And Santino’s a different story,” Vito continues, gesturing to his eldest son.

“I dunno,” Sonny chuckles to himself, shrugging his shoulders. “Marriage isn’t really something on my mind just yet, you know.”

“Would you like to marry in the future, though?” Don Cuneo asks him.

“I do,” Sonny nods, “have some kids, a family—settle down, yeah. Why not? I just don’t think I got any opportunity to now but I’m not the kind of man who would push it all away.”

Vito nods, staring back down at his drink in hopes the conversation about Sonny being a bachelorette will change in the next few moments, for the sake of the Corleone family’s dignity.

Vito knows everyone else in the room is just as away of Sonny’s promiscuous behaviour and lifestyle as he is, after all.

Out in the courtyard with the ladies and you, most of the conversation continues with your mother, Theresa and Carmela, all giddy about Theresa’s pregnancy.

“Congratulations again, honey,” your mother tells Theresa, “how has it been for you so far? An easy pregnancy, I hope.”

“A little difficult, honestly,” Theresa admits, sheepishly. “It’s improving though.”

“It will for baby number two as well,” Carmela chimes in.

You turn back to Connie and smile, inviting a conversation of your own that she starts.

“Welcome, Gabriella,” Connie says to you, “it’s honestly nice to put a name to a face at last. Mama has told me a bit about you and your sister but we surprisingly never had the chance to meet.”

“I know,” you pout, “I wish we could have met one another much sooner. My twin sister is in Austria right now, actually, so she has no chance at all yet. You know, touring Western Europe when she feels up to an adventure. I’m not so lucky or adventurous though,” you laugh.

“Neither am I,” Connie admits, “it’s refreshing to meet someone like you. What’s Bella in Austria for?”

“Art school,” you reply, smoothening out your shirtwaist dress. “Art has always been a passion for Bella, mostly music, literature and art history.”

“Must run in the family then,” Connie beams at you, “mama told me both you and your mother are artists too.”

Flattered, you nod eagerly with a smile. “We’d like to say so! It runs within the ladies of the family. I adore fine art like sculpture and art history, but personally, it’s not my passion.”

“Applied arts then, maybe?” Connie offers, growing further interested in the conversation at hand.

“Something like that,” you ponder for a moment, “I prefer painting, like mama. I’ve always loved doing so.”

“Wow,” Connie murmurs to herself, “do you have any inspirations for making art?”

“Maybe not the answer you’re looking for—” you chuckle sheepishly, “but I’d honestly have to say emotions inspire me, and my environment. Even the weather—small things like that. Artists like Van Gogh and Monet also inspire me.”

“That’s amazing,” Connie brushes back a curtain of her dark hair behind her ear. “Mama had actually been telling me earlier about the private art school your mother teaches at and…I was honestly thinking about enrolling to get a feel for myself but I wasn’t entirely too sure.”

“Definitely go for it,” you can scarcely hide the enthusiasm in your tone. “Mama would be more than happy to guide you along the way too. I still attend when I have the time and you could too for passion or for credentials. There’s something for everyone.”

“Absolutely,” your mother chimes into the conversation. “I would love to show you around the school as well, Constanzia. Someday, Gabriella will have to show you her paintings.”

“I would like that very much,” Connie smiles back politely. “I can tell she’s very talented.”

“Thank you,” you blush.

“She’s a nurse by trade, did you know that?” Mama Corleone adds, causing both Theresa and Connie’s eyes to widen in surprise.

“I am,” you admit, noticing how proud your mother looks next to you. “Practice and passion versus hobbies and passion.”

“Wow,” Theresa breathes, “that’s wonderful. How do you like nursing, Gabriella?”

“So far, so good,” you giggle quietly. “I’m fairly new to the practice but I’ve been tending to some injured soldiers lately. It’s practical, and I’m excited to see where the career takes me.”

“A nurse at a baby shower, how nice!” Theresa gushes.

With business conversation endlessly continuing in Vito’s office, Sonny remains to be the only one itching to get out of his seat and at least take cigarette break from the stuffy talk he has no need to contribute too.

Then again, Sonny’s more obligated to listen and consider every word coming out of Vito’s mouth wisely due to being his father’s successor and having to expect the same business talks directed towards him someday.

“You can tell Luca,” Vito gestures to Sonny, grabbing his attention. “Give him a call and let him know, since he won’t listen to Tom anyway.”

Chuckles fill the room as Sonny gives a nod, sighing in relief under his breath and beginning to rise from his seat.

You’ve just stepped into the Corleone manor for a quick bathroom break after getting some much needed directions from Connie on how to navigate the estate; unable to stop yourself from gazing and admiring the furniture and fixtures of the stunning foyer.

Remembering Connie’s words on reaching the first bathroom, you begin to head down the hallway when you momentarily stop in your tracks to sneeze.

Covering your nose, you sneeze quietly and sniffle—instantly feeling a momentary sharp prickle in your nostrils.

Blinking, you continue walking forward—albeit slowly—due to being distracted by the small throbbing pain beginning to start in your nose.

“Ugh…” You rub your nose tenderly, eyes widening in surprise to see droplets of blood over your fingers.

A split second passes before you sneeze again, realizing the culprit is the stuffy and somewhat dust filled air in the hallway getting to you.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve experienced something similar, but it annoys you to no avail nonetheless.

You cover your nose and continue heading towards where you assume the nearest bathroom is, being careful so as not to spill any blood on the mahogany floorboards or onto your dress.

“Found it yet?!” You hear Connie’s voice echo down from the foyer as she peaks her head inside the estate.

“Yes, don’t worry!” You let out a half muffled call back, spotting the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

“Alright, I’ll wait for you back outside!” Connie shouts, shutting the front door behind her.

The “yes, don’t worry!” you proclaimed out catches Sonny’s interest instantly; the sound of an unfamiliar, yet sweet voice he’s never heard before.

Stunned, Sonny’s unable to focus on anything else and drowns out the chatter and noise from Vito’s office before he exits out into the hallway and shuts the door of Vito’s office behind him.

You sneeze again, whimpering out of annoyance as you feel blood beginning to trickle from your nose.

Following every sound you make, Sonny furrows his brows and walks downstairs and towards the hallway cautiously—both hands in the pockets of his dress trousers.

Only a split second later does Sonny spot you; an unfamiliar woman with your back facing him, wearing a burgundy swing dress with white kitten heels, your hair curled over your shoulders and more peculiarly, how you clutch your hand over your nose.

“Are you alright?” Sonny speaks out to you, coming closer to step into your line of view.

You blink, assuming one of the Corleone family’s bodyguards or security must have heard you sneezing and walking around the manor by now, but when you turn around you can tell just by the posture and amused expression over the stranger’s face that he’s neither.

Sonny and you don’t know one another nor have you seen each other before. You’re not even aware of what the Corleone men’s names are besides Tom and Vito, and you just learned Tom’s today through Theresa.

Blush instantly hits your cheeks as you feel your skin warm at the sight of Sonny. This man is tall with a slim but lean, fit build; sharp shoulders giving Sonny a firm build, his hair in brunette curls and his jawline chiselled with a smirk over his face.

There’s an air of confidence over Sonny and you can already tell with just a glance that he’s someone important.

You assume just by Sonny’s body language across from you that aggressiveness isn’t unheard of from him, but he seems intrigued and even friendly towards you.

“Oh, fine, thank you,” you answer back, still covering your nose. “I didn’t imagine it to be so stuffy down here.”

Sonny chuckles, stepping closer to you before taking one hand out of his pocket to gesture around to the walls. “The walls in this place are older than you and be combined. Don’t mind that.”

You gaze up at Sonny, unable to stop yourself from blushing as he gets closer to you.

You lower your hand away from your face without even realizing it, revealing your bloody nose to Sonny.

Sonny barely reacts to the sight of blood over your face but the look upon his face that he gives you doesn’t appear the way one would gaze at a stranger or someone they’ve met for the first time; the look in Sonny’s eyes may as well tell him he’s known you his whole life.

Sonny wants to ask you if he’s seen you somewhere or if the two of you know each other from some time ago, but something urges him to keep quiet, knowing the answer must be no.

Sonny’s muscles tense from a rush of arousal hitting him at the sight of you, already wildly attracted to you with no intention of denying it.

“Here,” Sonny reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a neatly folded, silk handkerchief before handing it to you. “Don’t let it bleed all over you now.”

You hesitate for a moment, not at Sonny’s kindness but the expensive cloth he’s just handed you to wipe your nose with.

A warm, playful smile crosses Sonny’s lips as he reads through your hesitancy. “You’re Gabriella, aren’t you?”

Sonny knows better. An unfamiliar woman in his house with Mr. Giordano visiting? He’s already beginning to figure you out. Luckily, he didn’t assume you’re Bella.

“I am,” blushing, you answer a little out of breath and take the silk handkerchief from Sonny. “Thank you so much…” Your voice trails off as you realize you don’t know this man’s name.

“Santino Corleone,” Sonny introduces himself t you. “But everyone calls me Sonny.”

‘So he IS a Corleone…’

“Sonny,” you repeat, feeling your cheeks stinging with blush. “Thank you.”

Sonny grins, extending out a hand to shake yours as you wipe your nose with your free one. “It’s nice to meet you at last, Miss Giordano.”

As you shake Sonny’s hand back, you feel the same current of arousal rushing through him go through you.

“We haven’t met before, have we?” Sonny finally asks, unable to shake off the belief that he’s more than just familiar with you.

“This would be the first time,” you shake your head, “it’s nice to meet you as well. I’ve yet to meet your whole family yet, but,” you smile shyly, “thank you for having us to celebrate Tom and Theresa.”

“Thanks for coming,” Sonny smirks, “you’ve probably met Theresa already but Tom will be out in a moment and then you can see him too.”

You don’t notice Sonny’s eager eyes gazing up and down at your figure a split second after.

“Were you looking for someone or something?” Sonny asks you.

“Just the bathroom,” you admit, sheepishly. “I…” Your nose has fortunately stopped bleeding, but you look at the silk handkerchief in your hand to see the crimson mess staining through it.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” Sonny scoffs; he couldn’t care less about the damn handkerchief.

“If you insist,” you begin to carefully fold the handkerchief in the palm of your hand. “It’s just about the whole reason why I came in.”

“Fair enough,” Sonny forces his eyes off of yours, gesturing further down the hallway. “Unless the whole baby shower is waiting for you to get back, I’ll help you out here. Give you a tour of the estate and every bathroom you can find in here.”

“Oh, Mr—” you correct yourself immediately, “Sonny—I would like that very much but I don’t want to interrupt what you’re doing for something like that—”

“Believe me, I insist,” Sonny interrupts, smiling at you. “Guests come first. It’s really no problem. Let me give you a proper tour around here.”

“Alright then,” you accept, smiling back at him. “If it’s no trouble with you, I’d love to.”

“Alright then, Miss Gabriella,” Sonny moves next to you, leading the way out of the hall. “Stay close to me, alright?”

Blushing furiously, you nod back at Sonny who looks over at you behind his shoulder. “I’m with you.”

There’s no doubt about it; had you refused to go along with Santino and returned back to the baby shower or simply didn’t choose to communicate or see Sonny again after today, of course your life would be different. Either way, it would have changed.

What would you know now in this fleeting moment that couldn’t possibly mean anything else to you, trusting in this influential man son to a powerful Don that you just met, feeling as if he’s suddenly wanted to treat you as someone else in his home other than a guest?

If anyone asked years from now, you would tell them the truth. Yes, you would follow Santino Corleone to the ends of the earth, to hell if you had to and beyond that to meet him in whatever life awaited you next.

This is just the beginning of what destiny has spelled out for you side to side with a man like Santino Corleone.

But for now, you follow Sonny in hopes you’ll get to know this kind stranger and the Corleone family better, because your heart is bound to give in sooner rather than later.

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waltzchristophh · 4 months

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SANTINO LOVES YOU ♡ drabble + headcanons

sonny corleone x reader

Sonny was a frequent at the corner market your step father owned, collecting dues for paid protection and most of all, pestering you.

Please leave comments if you enjoyed!

Your eyes lifted from your book of poetry to the suspicious grocery patron as he stashed a blood orange into his pockets, holding a finger to his lips.

Shh.

The curly haired gangster maintained a subtle grin, pestering you further. That was enough. You stood from the cushiony saddle you rested upon and stomped furiously in Sonny's direction.

"Give it to me," You demanded with an extended hand.

"What? This?" The orange fell from his pocket and rested between his fingers. "You want this?"

Before you could snatch it back, he held the piece of fruit over your head like a cruel older brother.

"Oh, I don't think you're getting this back, sweet pea."

You maintained your dignity by refusing the jump for it, and instead took a different approach.

Your fingers crawled the length of Sonny's strong sides and lept to tickle Sonny's armpits while he still had his hand in the air.

He doubled over in laughter as you wrestled him for the orange. Soon the two of you were entwined in a fit of raucous laughter and giggles. A hastle that seemed nowhere near 89 cents.

"Quit it!"

"Sonny!"

Your step father's gut entered the room before he did. "Ay, Sonny."

The tackling immediately stopped, and the two of you brushed yourselves off, inching away from each other.

Finally Sonny broke the silence.

"Dunno why you bother paying my father; looks like she's got you covered," he shrugged with a grin.

---

headcanons

Your flirtatious affairs eventually turned into actual dates with Sonny knocking on your father's window with his jacket hung over his shoulder

"I'd like to see your daughter."

Within a few months you were one of the family.

You weren't completely oblivious to the family business, often pressing your ear to the door until Sonny caught you and shook you silly.

"C'mon what's'a matter with you?"

"But I can help!"

He rushes you away before explaining the situation: that it was unprecedented for women to be involved in the internal affairs of the Corleone family business.

Several months later after giving much thought to it, he began advocating for you're inclusion in the "family meetings" with full faith in your judgement

"She's a smart cookie, and she knows the trade well, her father owns a Bodega in Queens. They've got intel."

Vito took a liking to you as a young respectable woman, who wasn't afraid to put Sonny in his place.

Your conversations with him were pleasant and you loved hearing his stories about life back in the old country.

Needless to say, he was on board with this change.

A woman (non-italian at that) participating in male discussions was unprecedented. You challenged those norms and Sonny thought that was one of the sexiest things about you

"She may not have italian blood, but she has a strong italian heart, and thats good enough for me. Any questions?"

Any time clemenza tries to interrupt

"Woah, woah, woah- let 'er fucking finish first ya fuckin' jackass."

The two of you making fun of Carlo's flashy clothing at family dinners, which were almost weekly

"Would ya take a look at that fuckin' idiot. Cant believe hes marrying my sister," Sonny's hot breath whispered in your ear.

The two of you would be left in damn near tears of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Carlo would ask cluelessly.

Playing Gin rummy with the fellas and beating them almost every time.

Clemenza dropping his cards in disbelief

"That's my girl," Sonny smiles. "C'mere baby," as he smooches your forehead and cheeks.

With Sonny, every day was a beautiful miracle of joy, but when your father died a pit of sadness darkened your heart and your entire world went black.

He dried your tears with his hard thumb, looking down at you somberly

"Just let it out, honey. I'm here for ya. You're not alone, baby I'll never leave your side."

Looking up at him, hands entwined and sniffling a gentle smile

"It feels like my hands were meant to be held in yours, Sonny. I love you."

"I love you too, pumpkin."

Burying your nose into his chest and inhaling the musky fragrance of his Italian cologne and Cuban cigars.

'Poor butterfly by Sarah Vaughan playing softly on vinyl

Swaying with him to the music as he holds you closer to him. So close you could feel his heart beat to the rhythm

His lips caressing yours with loving tenderness

Monthly vacation to Sicily

Hanging over the edge of the balcony, allowing the straps of your satin nightgown to slip and fall from your shoulders

tipsy with old wine

He trails behind you, snaking a cool hand up your spine and holding your neck

Turning to face him and smiling like a mischievous child, tugging at his gold chain

"I want you to kiss me Sonny. Kiss me till I'm sick of it."

PLEASE COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED :)

#sonny corleone x reader #sonny corleone fluff #sonny corleone #the godfather #the godfather imagine

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fics-not-tragedies · 5 months

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January 2024 Music Prompts: Day 11

Nobody ♫ Hozier

Nobody ♫ Hozier x Santino D'Antonio

I'd be appalled if I saw you ever try to be a saint/I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave/But I want you to know that I've had no love like your love.

Santino, a man of contrasts with a carefree attitude cloaked in an air of charm, has become entangled in the complexities of love. He met you on a rainy evening in a dimly lit jazz club, where the air was filled with the smoky allure of saxophones and whispered confessions.

You felt an instant connection - a magnetic pull that brought you two together like two celestial bodies in a dance through the cosmos. You, with your fiery temperament, seemed to match the turbulence simmering beneath Santino's debonair exterior.

One night, as you strolled through the city streets, the rain painting the world in a sheen of silver, you turned to Santino with a daring gleam in your eyes. "I'd be appalled if I saw you ever try to be a saint. I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave."

Santino, his lips curving into a sly smile, responded, "But I want you to know that I've had no love like your love."

Your banter was a dance of wit and unspoken desires, a testament to the electrifying chemistry that crackled in the air between them. Santino, a man who had navigated the labyrinth of life with a laissez-faire attitude, found himself enchanted by the enigma that was you.

As the nights unfolded, Santino and you ventured into the uncharted territories of your hearts. Your love was a canvas painted with bold strokes of passion and whispered promises. Santino reveled in the unpredictability of your connection, knowing that love, like life, was meant to be lived on the edge.

You, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, often challenged Santino's nonchalant demeanor. "I'd be appalled if I saw you ever try to be a saint," you said, your words a playful taunt, "But I want you to know that I've had no love like your love."

Santino, though seemingly unfazed, couldn't deny the profound impact you had on the landscape of his heart. Yourlove was a tempest, a wild storm that swept through the barriers he had meticulously built. In your presence, he discovered a vulnerability he had long guarded, and a yearning for a love that defied the ordinary.

One evening, under the soft glow of streetlights, you posed a question that lingered in the air like a whispered confession. "Santino, have you ever considered that love can be both a saint and a sinner?"

Santino, looking into the depths of your eyes, felt a seismic shift within him. Love, he realized, wasn't confined to the boundaries of black and white; it existed in the shades of gray, in the duality that made it both exhilarating and terrifying.

Your journey unfolded like a tapestry of passion, woven from threads of laughter, shared secrets and the heady mix of your contrasting spirits. You, the fire that fuelled Santino's adventurous soul, took him to the abyss of emotions he had never dared to explore.

In the quiet moments, Santino whispered his truths to you. With a tenderness that belied your fiery exterior, you embraced the paradox of your love. The two of you became two souls entangled in a dance of vulnerability and acceptance. Every step was a revelation, every misstep forgiven in the warmth of understanding.

For Santino, love was no longer a mere dalliance, but a journey into the depths of the heart, where the contrasts of passion and tenderness created a melody that echoed in the corridors of your shared existence.

#january 2024 music prompts #music prompts #santino d'antonio fanfiction #santino d’antonio fanfic #santino d’antonio fic #santino d’antonio imagine #santino d’antonio drabble #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #drabble #santino x reader #santino x you #santino d'antonio x reader #santino d'antonio x you #prompt fics

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bluelolblue · 3 months

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Happy birthday @evren-sadwrn ! I wrote this fanfic with Santino and Vincent for you! I'm really glad we became moots and I love yapping about JW characters with you (especially abt Santino) so I wanted to show you that I really appreciate you! This is my gift for you! 💖

The Roses

I hope you'll like it! Sending hugs! <3

So many different flowers grew in the garden. Especially roses. The D'Antonio family is fond of flowers but the roses are among the favorites.

Santino watched those roses through the window of his bedroom, they're beautiful to him, they have a special place in his heart. He used to plant them with his mother when he was a little boy.

"Santi."

He heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Vincent." Santino smiled as he saw him. "How are you, mon chéri?" Vincent hugged him, gently going through his hair from behind. Santino was a bit suprised to see him since he always let's him know that he's gonna come over.

"I'm okay. Thank you." Santino murmured, finding the hug rather comforting.

After the hug, Vincent pressed a gentle kiss on top of Santino's head, murmuring something in French as they sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you okay? I heard you got hurt, too." Santino said, glancing him but Vincent seemed just fine. "Ah, nothing serious. Couple of bruises that's all." Vincent said, looking down at the floor before looking back at him.

"I'm sorry that happened, Santi. I did told you not to do that, didn't I? I didn't want you to get hurt." Vincent had a talk with some of his potential new associates but things kinda didn't go as planned and it got worse when Santino tried to help.

He ended up being hurt. Beaten up, calling out Vincent's name for help. However, Vincent didn't show up to save him.

"I know...I'm sorry-" Santino apologized but Vincent caressed his cheek, making eye contact with him. "No, don't apologize. It was my fault. And I didn't hear you calling me...I'm so sorry, Santi. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." He said softly and pressed few kisses on his forhead while he held Santino's hands.

"You got hurt, too. I just..." Santino paused and sighed, looking to the side. "I didn't know who else to call out." He felt ashamed to admit to be this weak, but he had no reasons to feel ashamed in front of Vincent, right? They're dating after all.

"I should've been there for you, I'll never forgive myself that-" Vincent started to almost panic while saying all this, but Santino cupped his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. A soft kiss on the lips. "I'm okay, I'm here, I survived it." Santino said softly, looking into Vincent's eyes.

Vincent nodded, taking a hold of Santino's hands and pulling them down as he held them. "I'm so glad you're okay." Vincent said and pressed a deep long kiss on Santino's lips.

Santino moaned softly into in the kiss, finding it difficult to even breathe when Vincent was kissing him like this. It got more passionate, with Vincent forcing his tongue into his mouth, eating him alive. And Santino was lost into the kiss just like always.

"I'll make it up to you, miel." Vincent whispered against his lips, wiping off saliva that was on the side of Santino's mouth. Santino sighed shakily and nodded, looking at him sympathetically. No. It was more in in a needy, admiring way. Just like he always looks at him when Vincent kisses him.

"Can I see your wounds, please?" Vincent asked after a minute. Santino blinked, snapping back to reality. "Yes...but they're just bruises." Santino said and started unbuttoning his shirt. Vincent helped him get it off, sliding it down his arms.

Santino's body had bruises of various colors. Some were more darker purple than the others. Over his torso, ribs and on his back. Vincent gently traced his fingers over each one, pressing gentle kisses on Santino's shoulders as he winced couple of times.

"They don't hurt as much anymore, they're healing already." Santino said, feeling Vincent's lips on the back of his neck. He was studying Santino's bruises on his back.

"I'm going to kill them, miel. I'll do it myself." Vincent said, actually sounding serious about it. Santino chuckled breathlessly, "I'd love to see that."

"I know you would." Vincent purred, smirking when Santino turned his head inviting him for another kiss. Hugging him from behind, kissing him deeply again, Vincent hummed before pulling from the kiss.

"Santi...if you need anything, let me know. Really, just tell me whatever you need." He said after the kiss and Santino put on his shirt again. "Well...I'd like to spend more time with you. You're here now so...would you stay a little longer?" Santino felt like he needed to stay closer to him. He needed some comfort.

"I'd love to...however I can stay only for half an hour. I have another business talk...is that okay?" Vincent offered. "More than okay." Santino smiled.

That half an hour went by quickly. They drank some coffee, talked a bit, cuddled, kissed...and that's it.

Santino wished Vincent had more time for him. Especially now. But he understands.

"I'm sorry, miel. I promise I'll make it up for you." Vincent said, fixing his suit, looking himself in the mirror. "Be good and drink painkillers, chéri." He said as he kissed him one last time. "I will." Santino smiled and nodded.

And Santino was left alone, again. Oh well, he at least got to see and be with him today.

As the week went by, Vincent would visit him sometimes, talk with him, how he's doing, just like he came the first time. But each time he would be more flirty, more touchy.

Until he offered something.

"How about..." Vincent paused, smirking as he fixed his tie and looked at Santino. "Tonight we spend time together? I have some free time then...what do you say?"

Ah, so he wanted that.

"Sure. I'm looking forward." Santino said, feeling himself blushing. Vincent chuckled quietly and leaned to whisper to him. "I hope you'll be in better shape by then. I don't want you to get even more hurt." That made Santino almost shiver.

"Don't worry about that." Santino said, feeling confident about it. Vincent nodded, "Good. See you in couple of hours, chéri."

Santino couldn't wait. He's gonna be with him again. He's gonna spend another night with him. No matter how much he got hurt he's willing to do this for Vincent.

Vincent's looking out for him. He cares. He loves him. He came to visit him to see how he's doing.

Waiting like for Vincent like a lost little puppy. Waiting for his attention. Hopelessly following him, his orders, desperately begging for love.

Santino went outside to look at the roses and to get some fresh air. It was evening, Vincent should be here any minute. The red roses bloomed beautifully, the right not too bring and not too dark red color.

Soon after, Vincent showed up. Finally. He's here again. For him. With him.

While Santino wanted this to be more romantic, he had some red wine prepared in the bedroom for them, Vincent just wanted to get to the point.

It seemed a little bit odd to Santino but he didn't want to question it, Vincent's here for him now and that's all that matters.

While taking Vincent's clothes off, he noticed that there were no bruises or anything on his pale skin. But it's impossible for bruises to fade that quickly.

"You alright, chéri?" Vincent asked as he noticed Santino kinda looking wordlessly at his body. Santino quickly looked up at him, chuckling softly before answering. "Yes. Sorry, I zoned out." Santino said, giving him a soft smile.

He didn't want to question anything now. He didn't want to ruin the mood.

"It's okay. Relax, miel." Vincent purred, kissing him and pulling him down with him. He let Santino have control tonight.

It was one of the best moments they shared. Santino on top of him, fucking him. He was rather gentle at first because he wanted to be...and because when he strained with few harder thrusts, his legs hurt.

But Vincent didn't really care about that. He just kept praising him, gripping his hair, moaning his name. Santino loved it. Loved every minute of it.

It seemed like hours, and they both wished it didn't end, this feeling.

Vincent gasped, gripping onto Santino's back, onto one of his worse bruises which made Santino whimper and cry out a moan. But fuck, it added to the excitement of this.

Vincent came first, moaning Santino's name and gripping tightly onto his hair and back. It hurt. That bruise hurt and Santino gasped a moan, feeling a weird feeling of pain and pleasure.

It didn't took him long to finish. To finish inside him, coming with a strangled moan, panting into Vincent's neck.

"Good boy, Santi. You did so good for me."

Vincent praised him, gently stroking his back, yet probably unaware of the pain he caused him. Or he was aware since he caressed that part.

Santino caught his breath enough to pull out and flop next to him. Groaning quietly in pain as the bruise just got more irritated. "Aw, did I hurt you?" Vincent asked, more in a teasing way rather than caring. "No..." Santino breathed out, closing his eyes to regain himself.

Vincent chuckled, he's proud of himself. Just like always.

After some time, Santino resting his head on Vincent's shoulders. "You don't have any bruises..." He muttered. "Hm? Ah, I suppose I have better immune system than you, miel." Vincent said and caressed his cheek. Santino hummed in response. Too tired to question anything more.

But it was strange. Maybe Vincent does have a better immune system.

"I think I strained myself too much..." Santino said and whimpered as he stretched a little. "Aww, you just need rest, chéri." Vincent chuckled.

He does need rest after this. His whole body ached even more.

After few days, Santino recovered quickly from the bruises and his body didn't ache as much anymore.

Yet, Vincent wasn't visiting him that often. He only came by twice in this week. But he enjoyed those two times.

So to suprise him and show him his appreciation for him, Santino cut three of the red roses from his garden and went to visit him himself.

Ah, Vincent was on the phone with someone when he came to visit.

"Santi?" Vincent asked once he finished his phone call, looking a bit puzzled at him. "I um, I hope I'm not interrupting anything...I just..." Santino got a bit nervous of course, thinking maybe it's not the best time.

"These are for you. I really appreciate everything you've done for me for the past two weeks...thank you, Vincent." Santino said, blushing and showing Vincent the roses. Vincent blinked, looking from the roses to him and then just kinda chuckled and took them.

"Thank you, chéri. They're very pretty." He said and leaned to kiss him. "Ah, you didn't have to. I was just worried about you so I had to see how you're doing." Vincent smiled at him.

Santino huffed a nervous small laugh before answering, "I still feel like I need to show you how much you mean to me. And...these roses are from my garden...three red roses." He just knew he looked absolutely flustered and it's something Vincent loves.

"You're so cute like this. Ah, my little Santi." Vincent purred and caressed his face. The way Santino was looking at him with admiration and love...it's cute. But almost pathetic to Vincent.

"I'll put them in the vase on my table so I can look at them every day and think of you."

Santino was never this much happy before. And Vincent could see that, see that spark in his eyes. He has him now.

"I'm glad you like them. Roses have beautiful meanings. Every color has. And...red means love." Santino said, tugging onto Vincent's tie once Vincent put the roses in the vase.

"I know, miel. Red ones are my favorite." He leaned to kiss him. A passionate kiss, getting Santino on his other desk and kissing him some more.

Three red roses. Love.

Another day passed. Santino was obsessively thinking about Vincent.

Then another day. Santino obsessively thinking about him again. And again. And again. And a week passed. Only texting each other.

A rainy day arrived. Santino returned from his meeting.

Going to his bedroom he was met with a letter and one single blue rose.

The letter said:

"I'm sorry for not seeing you this week, chéri. I'm really busy. However I do think about you every single day and wish you're next to me. Please take this blue rose that I send for you as my apology for not seeing you. I know you love the blue color and it was difficult to find a blue rose but you know me, I always manage everything. Hope to see you soon. Love you, miel."

It was written in Vincent's handwriting.

A blue rose? Santino has never seen a blue rose before.

"It's very pretty." He said to himself, smiling as he held the rose. A nice almost like royal blue color. "I wonder what it means."

One single blue rose.

Something's not right here. One part of Santino felt that.

Blue rose.

Mystery, they don't exist in the nature, they're hard to create.

Vincent didn't help Santino when he was calling him for help. He did heard him.

He heard him calling out for him.

He ignored him.

Vincent was fine. He wasn't hurt.

He doesn't have any bruises on his body.

Blue rose.

Unrequited love. If you love someone but you know that it can't be. A love that...can't be.

Three red roses compared to one blue rose.

True love and unrequited love.

It cannot be.

"I really love the blue rose, Vincent. Thank you. I love you."

"Always, Santi. Love you, too"

#santino d'antonio #santino d’antonio #marquis vincent de gramont #santino d’antonio x vincent de gramont #happy bday Evren!#this is also like santino's and vincent's early relationship #oh and my phone almost died while writing this LMAO #my fanfic #HOPE YOU'LL LIKE IT #MY LIL GIFT FOR YOU :3 <3 #also tried to make it more in a psychological way BC YOU LIKE TO ANALYZE CHARACTERS UWU

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mrssimply · 2 months

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The Burning of Rome

Part I - Spark

Chapter 3 : Scorching Games

---

“That’s my shirt,” John remarked. It was open except for the last two buttons from the bottom. And apparently, Santino wasn’t wearing anything else. The man leaned back against the chair, his smile morphing into something more seductive. “Is it? My mistake. Want me to take it off?” John was tempted — too much, he couldn’t get enough — but he was also still holding the groceries. He lifted his hands to show Santino, who let him step back but followed after him like a curious cat. John knew what he hoped to find in the bags, and he might have smelled them. Sure enough, the moment John dropped the bags on the counter, Santino was going for the one where the sugary fragrance came from. “Tania made loukoumades for you,” John needlessly informed. “I love that woman,” the crime lord declared solemnly. He made a little noise when he discovered the small round donuts. “More than me?” “Differently. You don’t make loukoumades, that’s unfortunately a terrible defect on your part.” John chuckled, putting the rest of the groceries in the fridge and cupboards. When he turned, Santino was opening the jar of honey and dipping the first donut into it liberally. - The thing was, John liked loukoumades too, but only when he could taste them from Santino’s lips. The man moaned when he bit into the sweet, eyes fluttering shut under John’s sharp gaze. Santino was properly indecent when he enjoyed the treats; he looked at his companion from under his lashes, emerald irises glittering with mischief as he sucked his fingers to catch the last drop of honey. - He knew what it did to John, too, whose gaze dropped from his lips to the line of his throat, dipping into the opened shirt. Santino smiled, and fetched another small donut out of the bag, drenching it in honey before bringing it back to his mouth. His lips shone with the syrup, calling John’s gaze back to them. He took a step closer, crowding Santino against the counter and putting his hands over the shirt on his hips. The younger man leaned back, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck. He didn’t have to wait long before John dipped his head and brushed his mouth over the naked skin at the same time one of his hands pushed the shirt away from his right shoulder. John heard his amused huff, but didn’t care if he was found too easy. They both knew Santino was his biggest weakness, in every way. - Seemingly uncaring about his lover’s interest, Santino went back for the loukoumades and ate two more while John opened the shirt’s last buttons and stroked his bare skin from hip to chest. He only deigned to take notice when John pinched his nipples and gently rubbed his beard against Santino’s cheek. The crime lord made a low noise in his throat and pushed his lover away. John protested, eyes flickering from Santino’s lowered lids to his half parted mouth, and fought down the urge to fall on his knees. He tried not to do that on his own volition too often, lest it went to Santino’s head. The man seemed to read it on his face anyway, and smirked. He dipped his index into the honey once again, never leaving John’s eyes, and brought it to his mouth to suck it in slowly. It overflowed on his lips as he pulled his finger out. John’s hands spasmed around his sides. He let out a growl and crowded closer again, panting against Santino’s mouth but not actually touching him yet.

#john wick #John x Santino #santino d'antonio #John Wick 4 #John Wick 2 #my writing #I needed to host the pictures somewhere to put them in the fic so you get two moodbords in one go #also it's my favourite scene so far #so I'm putting it here again

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evren-sadwrn · 5 months

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grabbing my wips by the fucking throat

#genuinely tweaking bc i cant fucking finish this santino d’antonio x reader bro #lord please be on my side i beg of you

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 5 months

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The Breaking Point

This fic is a sequel to To Be His Good Girl

Edit: I've removed my SPN kink Event bingo card, because I was reminded that Soldier Boy isn't part of SPN. 🤦‍♀️ The story hasn't changed at all.

Summary: Y/N has been acting up for days, and she won't explain herself to Ben. He may just reach his breaking point.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Pretty filthy smut. BDSM. Dom/sub. Dom Ben (Soldier Boy). Sub Reader. Disobedient Reader. Crying Reader. Lots of talk of punishments and discipline. Spanking. Paddling. Pussy Spanking. Mentions of Caning (breasts). Slight Bondage. Intense pain as pleasure dynamics. Light Fingering mentioned. Sir!kink.

Pairings: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader

Word Count: 3,925

A/N: Okay, so "To Be His Good Girl" was supposed to be a one and done fic. However, I've had a few requests to carry on the story, and then I found the above bingo card, and I thought it fit into Ben and Y/N's story pretty well. There is a third part to this little story. It's called, "When is it Enough?" and it will be out on Wednesday, January 10. It will fill my BDSM square for the above card. Hope you enjoy, and I know this story won't be for everyone, so PLEASE heed the warnings. ❤️

The dividers used here are created by @silkholland

Y/N and Ben moved in together not long after her first round of discipline. They spent a lot of time in the first month testing boundaries, pushing Y/N’s limits of what she could take. Ben was amazed by her constantly. They had regular discipline sessions, where he would test her and push her to see if she would continue to obey him no matter what, and she almost always did. When she failed his tests, she took her punishments well. Even if she was being punished for purposely acting bratty, which had only happened a handful of times - mostly just to get a rise out of him - she quickly became remorseful when he corrected her behavior.

Their discipline sessions had never failed to leave both of them sated and happy.

Then one random Tuesday, four months into living together, Ben came home to find Y/N completely withdrawn. He thought maybe she was just hormonal, as women tended to be once a month, and he let the attitude slide for a day or so. When she didn’t improve, he threatened her, promising her if she didn’t smarten up, he’d make sure she couldn’t sit down for a week. The effectiveness of the threat barely lasted the day however, and by the next morning, she was back to grouching and sulking around the apartment.

Ben awoke that morning as he felt her shifting out of his arms and getting up. Then he heard her growl angrily as she stubbed her toe on the bedside table. “Piece of shit.” She grumbled to herself as she fell back to the mattress she’d just risen from. He reached out to rub her back but she stood up again, pulling away.

“Hey.” Ben said, voice still croaky with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N just shook her head. “Nothing, I’m just running late.” She told him, and she rushed out of their room to shower.

When she came back to the room, wrapped in a towel, Ben was gone, and she sat at her vanity and brushed her wet hair, shivering as cold droplets of water dripped from the ends. She glanced in the mirror and then quickly away. She didn’t really want to look at herself at the moment.

Ben came back into the room with a tray of delicious smelling food. Y/N frowned. “You cooked?”

He snorted at the ridiculous question. “Of course not, I got the doorman to order us breakfast from Santino’s.”

Y/N nodded, but her frown stayed in place. “You know, that’s not really his job.” She said, voice chiding.

Ben looked at her for a minute. “Well I tipped him a hundred dollar bill, so I don’t think he minded.” He shook his head. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been in this mood for days and I’m getting fucking sick of it.”

Y/N shrugged and mumbled. “Sorry.”

Ben set down the tray and caught her wrist as she stood up from the bench. “No, I mean it now, seriously Y/N, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I told you. Jesus, just fucking drop it.” She barked at him.

Ben’s scowl darkened and he quickly sat down on the bench she’d just vacated, yanking her across his lap. He pushed her towel up so her bare ass was exposed, swiftly cracking his palm down onto her damp skin.

Y/N screeched and fought against his hold. But he subdued her easily and delivered five more blows. “Explain your attitude right now.” He demanded.

Y/N sniffled. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m just…I've just been sleeping badly.”

Ben turned her in his arms so he was cradling her. “Yeah, I noticed. What’s causing the bad sleep?”

Y/N just shrugged and wiped her nose. “I dunno.” She said in a small voice.

Ben knew she was lying, but she looked up at him with her big, sad eyes. “I’m really sorry, B-, I mean, sir. I’ll behave myself, I promise.”

He knew he was being too soft with her; the attitude she’d been giving him for days now demanded punishment. But he found himself reluctant. He knew she was hiding something from him. She’d been fine on Tuesday morning when he left for the Tower - her usual sweet, bubbly, occasionally precocious self - but when he returned that evening she’d been moody and closed off.

This brief spanking was the only consequence he’d doled out so far even though she’d been snapping at him and unresponsive for days. He contemplated flipping her back over and continuing the spanking, but her jutting bottom lip and watery eyes worked far too well on him and he sighed and stood her up beside the bench.

“Get into bed, eat some food, and then get some more sleep.” He ordered.

“Yes, sir.” She said, obeying reluctantly.

But over the next two days nothing really improved. She wasn’t snapping at him as often, but she was still quiet and subdued. Ben tried a few times to distract her, kissing her and touching her gently, but though she never denied him, her responses were far from passionate and Ben wasn’t about to force her to sleep with him.

Finally, nearly a week after her moodiness had begun, she pushed Ben a step too far, and he realized he had no choice but to take action, for her sake.

They were eating dinner and Y/N started to pour a cup of coffee to have with dessert. But Ben stopped her. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be drinking coffee so late in the evening. You’re having a hard enough time sleeping as it is.”

She shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” She said as she poured herself a cup from the carafe on the table.

“Y/N, I said no.” His voice was firm, but she just ignored him and took a deep gulp of coffee.

He grabbed onto her wrist to stop her drinking more. “Did you hear me?”

Y/N yanked her arm out of his grasp, her face thunderous, temper ignited. “I heard you, but why do you fucking care?” Y/N screeched. She threw the cup of hot coffee at him and it smashed against the arm he held up in front of his face just in time.

As he lowered his arm he saw Y/N’s jaw drop, almost as though she was unable to believe what she’d just done. “Ben, oh god, I don’t…” She trailed off, her hands covering her mouth.

Ben brushed away the chips of pottery that clung to his shirt from the smashed mug. His voice was ice when he spoke.

“Get into that fucking bedroom, and get into position. Right fucking now.”

“Ben -”

“Now!” He bellowed and Y/N bolted out of the room.

Ben bent to pick up all the broken pieces of the cup and sank into his chair. He shook his head; she’d left him no choice.

***

Y/N sat on her knees in her bra and panties, head bowed, waiting for Ben to come dole out punishment. She knew she deserved whatever she got. She couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to correct her behavior. She knew she was being insufferable and incredibly disobedient. But she couldn’t pull herself out of this place she’d sunk after the phone call on Tuesday morning.

Ben walked in and Y/N’s breathing picked up. He came to stand directly in front of her but she kept her head lowered until he spoke.

“Look at me.”

Y/N looked up and the unrelenting anger on his face made her shiver. He was dressed in his green super suit as he always was when he was disciplining her.

“Obviously,” he started, “I’ve been far too lenient with you this week. I was hoping that little spanking the other day would be enough to straighten you out, but I was very wrong. So now…it’s clearly time for something more severe.”

He walked away but Y/N didn’t let her eyes follow him, dropping her gaze back to the ground. She could hear him moving things around in their closet and knew he was digging out the instruments of her punishment. She heard the snap of a leather belt and closed her eyes.

After five minutes of silence Ben returned to stand in front of her and tilted her chin up so she was looking at him again. “My over-the-knee spanking clearly wasn’t enough to set you straight, so I’ll have to try a little harder.”

He snapped his fingers and she knew that was her cue to stand. “Bend over the end of the desk, arms out to the sides. Hold on.”

Y/N did as she was told. From behind her, Ben continued explaining.

“I’m going to spank you in three different ways. There's power in threes, it really drives home a point. First, I'll use a wooden paddle on your ass. Then, my leather belt on your pussy, and lastly, a cane to your tits.”

Y/N felt her breath kick up and fear lodge in her throat.

“You will receive a total of sixty strokes. Thirty with the paddle, twenty with the belt, and ten with the cane.”

Y/N’s stomach flip-flopped. “Sir, please…” she began, but Ben cut her off.

“And since you seem to enjoy quiet so much this week, you will take every single stroke without making a sound.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked over her shoulder, “Sir I-”

“Starting this second!” Ben barked out, immediately silencing her. “Face front.” He ordered and she swung her head back to face the door of the bedroom.

“I mean it, you disobedient little brat. I don’t want to hear a single word from you, not a whimper. If you cry, you'll do so silently.” He leaned close to her ear and growled his warning. “You disobey me again and you will regret it. Do you understand? You may speak to answer.”

“Yes, sir.” Y/N said, almost breathless.

“What will be the one exception to my rule of silence?”

“Belgium.” Y/N answered in a whisper, stating her safe word.

“That’s right.”

He straightened up and moved away to get the paddle. “Now, you’ve been paddled once before,” he said from across the room, “that time you came home late and didn’t call. But that was only ten strokes. No doubt, this will make a bigger impression.”

She heard him move into position behind her and then heard the familiar sound of the heavy wooden board whistling through the air before landing with a hard thwack on her ass; her white cotton panties offered very little protection and she bit down on her lip to stop from crying out.

“One.” Ben counted.

Once again the paddle whooshed through the air before it smacked hard against her ass, the sound of pine hitting skin reaching her ears just before the burning pain spread out across her ass cheeks.

“Two.”

And on he continued, spreading the blows across her whole ass, along with a few to the very tops of her thighs.

After the fifteenth blow, Ben stepped back and admired the red he could see blooming just under the bottom of her panties. The red of the spanking contrasted with the white cotton very nicely.

After giving her ass a moment’s break Ben gave his order. “Take your panties down. Leave them just at the top of your thighs.” He instructed not wanting to lose the pretty color contrast.

Y/N shifted painfully and pushed at her panties until they were down over her ass and framing her cheeks.

When he started in again Ben targeted the thickest part of her ass, just above her thighs. He maneuvered the paddle in an upswing and landed an incredibly stinging blow, making her flesh jiggle.

“Sixteen.”

After twenty strokes, the heat was radiating off of her ass like an oven. The apples of her ass cheeks were stained purple and red, thick welts decorating her soft skin. Ben could see her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

But he hardened his resolve and delivered the last ten strokes, the impact so hard that he raised her feet off the ground with every blow.

“Thirty.” He said as the last one landed. He moved away to set down the paddle and then came back to rub his hands across her bruised and battered ass.

“All of this could have been avoided, kitten, we could have been having a much more pleasant evening if you hadn't decided to act like such an unbearable brat all fucking week.”

Y/N nodded, remaining silent, and Ben sighed. “Stand up. Pull up your panties.”

She obeyed and when she moved to face him, Ben saw the pain that spasmed across her face and he wiped away some of the tears that still fell. “That’s gonna hurt a long time, baby. You’re probably gonna wear this lesson on your skin for a week or more.”

Y/N lowered her gaze and Ben recognized her look of true contrition. He tipped her chin up. “You may speak. Tell me what’s going on in your head. Why are you being so disrespectful?”

But though she had permission, she remained silent, merely shrugging and shaking her head.

Ben sighed again, more frustrated than ever. He shook his head and spoke with firm resolve. “Okay, you need more pain to remind you who you answer to, I guess.” He pointed angrily at the bed. “Lay down flat on your back, with your ass at the very foot of the bed.”

Y/N complied immediately. When she was laying flat, grimacing from the pain of the pressure on her abused ass, Ben approached, holding a rope, and grabbed her right ankle. He raised it high in the air and spread it out wide, strapping it to the bedpost tightly. He repeated the action with her left leg so she was stretched wide open, her cunt on full display.

Ben moved to the table where Y/N could now see he had his implements laid out. He picked up a particularly thick leather belt and brought it over to where she lay.

“Okay, kitten, same rules. Keep your mouth shut, or you’ll regret it. Belgium is there for you to use, always.”

Y/N nodded and closed her eyes, biting her lip. She’d had her pussy whipped a few times, but it was never more than a few strokes and even then the pain had been incredibly intense. At least these strokes weren’t going directly onto her clit.

But as Ben brought the leather down to crack against the incredibly delicate skin of her pussy, it didn't feel like much of a difference. She raised her hips off the bed in an instinctive need to get rid of the sting. Again her thin cotton panties were no barrier as Ben rained fire down onto her cunt.

“One.” He stated in a firm voice and Y/N wanted to weep at the idea of starting the pain over at one.

As Ben continued the punishment at a slow but steady pace, Y/N considered using her word and making him stop so she could spill her heart out to him, and try to make sense of the pain that had been sitting in her gut for a week, pain that stung almost as much as the blows landing on her skin.

But she was ashamed, she felt worthless, and she realized in that moment that she’d been egging Ben on all week, practically begging to be punished. She wanted to feel this pain, she couldn’t articulate her other pain, but this she could understand. She knew how to take this - this pain obscured the rest.

“Ten.” Ben called out with the latest blow. She knew what was coming before it happened as he set down the belt beside her head. He grabbed hold of her panties and shredded them as he ripped them from her body.

He looked down and clicked his tongue. “Jesus Christ, baby.” He pushed a finger through the dripping slick that glistened on her reddened pussy lips. “This is a punishment. You are not supposed to be getting off on it.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush. She couldn’t help the way her body responded to Ben’s punishments. The pain never failed to blossom into heat that swept through her whole body and made her pussy weep.

Ben tutted again before picking up the belt to continue. The next blow landed on her bare pussy and the agonizing, fiery sting made her bite her lip till it bled to stop from making a noise.

“Eleven.”

By the time he reached nineteen, Y/N had also curled her hands into such tight fists that there were crescent moons cut into her palms from her fingernails. And then he brought down the last stroke and it landed so hard that a short squeal burst out of Y/N's throat despite everything she was doing to keep silent.

Ben dropped his arm to his side and Y/N could hear the actual disappointment in his voice when he spoke; it made her want to cry.

“You are just determined to disobey me over and over. I thought you were my good girl. What's happened to my good girl, huh?”

Y/N pushed up on her elbows so she could see Ben's face. She opened her mouth and then closed it.

“Speak.” Ben said briskly.

“I didn't mean to sir. I'm so sorry. I'm trying to be your good girl. Please don’t hate me too.”

The words just slipped out of her and she hadn’t even known they were there.

Ben’s face darkened. “What are you talking about?” He asked. “Who said anything about hating you? I’m just disappointed. Disappointed that you’ve been disobeying me over and over, and yes, angry at your disrespect.”

He ran a soothing hand over her raw pussy, pushing his middle finger into her slick folds to tease her clit. Y/N gasped and then met Ben’s gaze and saw the truth in his bright, beautiful green eyes as he spoke.

“But Y/N, I discipline you because I care about you, so that you know I care about what we mean to each other, about our roles in this relationship. I punish you because I care about how you conduct yourself. And sometimes I discipline you with pain because I know you crave it, crave the release of it.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face as she realized just how right he was. She had been craving the release of pain, the release of the pain that sat unmoving in her heart. All week since the phone call with her father she’d been down, heartbroken and feeling worthless.

It had been almost a year since she’d spoken to him. He’d made it clear a long time ago that he thought she was just a pathetic loser, and he was ashamed of her. But she’d called to tell him that she was dating THE Soldier Boy, that they lived together in a fancy apartment and she was spoiled and cared for. She thought it might make him see her as valuable - the fact that someone important wanted her.

Instead he’d told her he wasn’t interested in hearing about her whoring ways, that he didn’t want to know what rich old man was acting as her sugar daddy. He’d called her disgusting and an embarrassment. He told her he didn’t want her associating with his new family, he didn’t want his children soiled by her.

The words had sunk deep into her skin and had been cutting her ever since.

Now, as she laid there, exposed and completely vulnerable, in the most visceral and literal way possible, she began to confess everything. Ben quickly untied her legs from the bedposts so he could sit beside her and pull her into his lap. She told him everything, whispering her father’s cruel words, embarrassed by how true they felt.

When she fell silent, Ben shook his head. “Y/N why wouldn’t you tell me this earlier? I would have handled your punishment very differently.”

She shook her head. “No, I wanted to be punished. I deserve it.”

Ben kissed her forehead. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t have punished you. You disobeyed me all week and refused to let me into your problems, you do deserve to be disciplined. But I told you, I would have done it differently.”

Y/N sniffed. “How?”

Ben smiled. “I would have taken you over my knee again. I would have held you close to me and reminded you over and over that I’m only punishing you because I know how special you are, because I know what a good girl you can be. I would have made sure you know that if I didn’t care about you,” he paused and then pressed a brief kiss to her lips, “if I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t discipline you, I wouldn’t care enough to.”

He wiped away her tears. “And I would have made you come on my fingers between punishments to make sure you know that even though you might deserve to be punished sometimes, you definitely deserve to be pleasured all the time.”

Y/N’s tears ran unchecked once again as Ben continued. “Instead I was disciplining you harshly because I didn’t know what was causing your terrible behavior and I needed you to know I wouldn’t stand for it endlessly. I gave you so many chances this week, why didn’t you reach out to me?”

Y/N shrugged. “I was embarrassed. I was afraid that…” She buried her face in his chest, the material of his suit rough against her cheeks. “I was afraid you’d hear his words and think he was right.”

Ben huffed. “Ridiculous.”

“And,” Y/N continued, “and honestly I just couldn’t understand how I was feeling to even try to explain. Part of me wanted to not care about him, and part of me wanted to crawl into a ball and cry forever. So,” she shrugged again, “I just acted out.”

Ben sighed and then kissed the top of her head. “Well, I’d say your discipline has been severe enough. That can be all for tonight.”

But to his surprise Y/N shook her head. “No, don’t…you set out a punishment, I shouldn’t get out of it just cause I cried and finally told the truth. You taught me that. Once a punishment is set, it needs to be seen through, no matter how sorry I get after.”

Ben frowned. “But Y/N, I told you, if I’d known the truth, I would have disciplined you a lot less harshly.”

“But you only didn’t know the truth because I kept it from you.” When Ben opened his mouth to argue again, Y/N interrupted him. “Please, Sir.” She said in a whisper. “I need the pain. And I need you to…to show me you care enough to correct me when I do wrong.” She shrugged. “I also made a noise when it was forbidden to do so, so I need to be punished for that too.”

She looked up at him and her eyes were misty. “Let me show you that I can be your good girl again.”

Ben took a deep breath and nodded, pride shining in his eyes. “Then get down on your knees, kitten, and show me how good you are.”

Jensen:

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Any/All:

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@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

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@eevvvaa

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#soldier boy smut #spnkinkbingo #spnkinkevents #soldier boy x reader #ben x reader #bd/sm kink #dom/sub #heed the warnings

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