#michael corleone x john wick

[corleonecaretaker]

♥ 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝'𝕤 𝔾𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝔾𝕠 𝔹𝕒𝕕 ♥

Image sources: One | Two | Three | Four

Summary: Michael takes Kay to a swingers club just to shock her, just to show her that she can’t handle the kinds of debauchery in his world. But when they encounter the seductive, spellbinding John and Helen Wick, Kay isn’t as shocked as he expected. All of Michael’s plans are about to go awry…and the strength of his marriage is about to be tested. This story is a response to a request from a guest on AO3!

A few historical notes: “Swinging” as we know it today began in the 1960s, and The Godfather is set in the 40s and 50s. At the time, they probably would have called this “wife-swapping,” which began during the 1940s among Air Force pilots according to everything I can find, and it wouldn’t have been as common. But for the sake of the story, let’s just pretend that Michael knows some people who are very ahead of their time.

CW: swinging, digital and oral sex, crying during sex, internalized homophobia from Michael, discussion of Kay's fear of domestic abuse

Your good girl's gonna go bad I'm gonna be the swingin'est swinger you've ever had If you like'em painted up, powdered up, then you ought to be glad Because your good girl's gonna go bad - Tammy Wynette

“You really want to know what my world is like? What men like me do at our leisure?”

“Yes, I do,” Kay replied defiantly, a challenge burning in her eyes.

So Michael let her dress to the nines in a pleated red dress and wide brimmed evening hat, and took her to the Syrup Saloon, one of the many clubs that pulsed to the neon heartbeat of Las Vegas. But this one was VIP only. “Fifteen years ago, this was a speakeasy,” Michael explained, as the bouncer swung back a hidden door in the mahogany wall panel of the decently furnished but otherwise inconspicuous foyer through which they’d entered. “But it still has its secrets today – thank you, Joey,” he said, interrupting himself to let the host put a drink in his hand. As they fell into conversation, he watched Kay out of the corner of his eye. She was glancing around the dimly lit room with all the open curiosity of a wide-eyed doe who had yet to realize it had just stumbled into a pack of wolves.

In all honesty, he thought it would scare her. He thought they’d walk in and she’d realize what was happening only to demand that they walk right back out and not ask him anything about his business or his private life again for a month.

“It’s so good of you to finally persuade the missus to join us,” said Joey, and he kissed her hand. “It’s a shame that I’ve already made my reservations for tonight. If I had known, I sure would have saved myself for this doll.” For a second, fear swept through Michael. He laughed awkwardly and said something without knowing what it was. What if they got in too deep? What if Kay was too polite to insist on leaving – or worse, called his bluff? What if another man actually fucked his wife?

“Michael, what was that gentleman talking about?” she whispered, as they made their way to a velvet booth in the corner. The room was heavy with smoke and bluesy with the sounds of saxophone pouring from the phonograph, creating a soft haze that was only punctuated by pink and yellow neon strips along the ceiling.

“Well…you see, I’ve never come to the Syrup Saloon before, even though Joey’s invited me more times than I can count. Only couples can come here, and I wanted to keep you out of places like this. But if you say you can handle it...” He leaned back, watching her gaze follow a group of four at a nearby table. Her mouth fell open as they traded places, giggling, and made their way off to two separate rooms.

“Oh my – Michael, they’re…they’re swingers?”

He frowned. “How do you know what swingers are in the first place?”

“Connie told me,” she said indignantly. “Michael, this is NOT what I meant.”

He bit his tongue before he could ask how Connie knew what swingers were – he probably would rather not know that much about his sister. “Listen to me. You want to know about the ugly parts of my world? Okay. It’s this or letting you watch Al Neri blow a man’s brains out.”

Her lips pursed. Anger. But she didn’t have a chance to reply. A woman’s voice cut in, a sonorous, confident, casual sort of voice. “Is this seat taken?”

She was standing over them with her head tilted in playful curiosity, maple brown hair tickling her collarbones thanks to the scandalous off-shoulder gown that hugged her torso. A man in a suit towered next to her, with dark hair almost as long as hers. It fell forward to obscure deep, black eyes. From one look at him, Michael could tell he wasn’t a civilian. He was pure muscle, and stood like a soldier or a bodyguard, placing himself between his wife and the rest of the room as if by instinct.

Michael opened his mouth, but Kay had already answered for him. “Not at all. Please, join us.”

The woman slid into the seat next to her, and the man next to Michael. He felt suddenly trapped. Kay was looking intently at this sculpted, vicious…thing sitting next to him. If someone distilled masculinity in human form, it would look like this. Just kill me already.

“I’m Kay.”  Her words filled up Michael’s stunned silence. She offered a hand to the woman.

“And I’m M,” Michael broke in hurriedly, realizing just how much he didn’t want to be seen here for long. “We’re going by first initials, see.”

The woman shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to us. We’re from out of town, and we stay out of the spotlight these days anyway. My husband’s retired.” She shot him a wink before turning back to the Corleones. “I’m Helen.”

The man spoke then, and if the woman’s voice had been sonorous, his seemed to vibrate straight through his firm handshake to the inside of Michael’s ribcage. “John. Sorry for barging in. It’s just that you two caught my wife’s eye and well…what she wants, she gets.” He smiled across at the table at the woman, with a genuine warmth that told Michael it wasn’t a hardship to give her everything she could ever ask for.

Michael managed to claw his way back towards composure. Flattery was at least something he was used to. “Well, I appreciate the compliment, Helen. You’re a rather eye-catching pair yourself. Wouldn’t you say so, Kay?”

“Oh, I would. I hope you’ll do us the honor of spending the evening together.” Michael shifted in his seat. No. Absolutely not, this has been a mistake! Let’s leave. But the words were caught in his throat. He found himself paralyzed. Yet again, his attempt to unbalance her had been instantly turned back on him. Her voice had a sultry lilt to it that normally only showed up in their own bedroom, and she was staring at John, letting her eyes wander over his biceps, over the enormous hands resting on the table. Michael felt his heart skip dizzyingly.

“We’d be so glad to! And tell me Kay,” said the wife, her voice dropping to an intimate near-whisper, “Which of us do you like better?”

Her lips parted in a wordless inhale as Helen’s hand slid over the top of hers, resting there without pushing between her fingers. Kay blushed fiercely. “Oh, I don’t – I could hardly – “ Her words came out breathy and overcome at first, but the next were spoken with a kind of wonder at herself. A dawning awareness. “You, Miss Helen.” She spread her fingers, letting Helen’s sink between them to clasp their hands together.

Michael exhaled in relief. “Splendid! I think we have ourselves a plan for the evening.” Good. This was an image he could handle – Kay holding hands with another woman like two innocent girls, not showing the slightest interest in this John…oh. John.

Under the table, John’s hand was on Michael’s thigh. He couldn’t breathe. “Yeah,” John said.

───•⋆⋆ʚ♥ɞ⋆⋆•───

Kay let herself be led to one of the bedrooms in a trance. Led by the hand, in a way completely different than any hand-holding she’d ever experienced.

They had to get there as fast as possible – she needed Helen, needed her now. She’d been wet since the moment the woman’s soft skin had rested against hers. All she could think about was the softness of Helen’s lips, and of her…oh god. She was burning, throbbing inside. She’d never touched another woman like that before. Her mind went to the nights when she’d sinned, when Michael was away on business and she’d let her fingers slide down the silk of her nightgown and feel the curves of her own hips and and lift the hem and…and…oh god.

It was a beautiful little room, lit by a stained glass lamp adorned with pink and yellow roses. The bed was covered in pink sheets...satin like her own nightgown…and it was shaped like a heart. A scandalous bed. A sex bed. Kay realized she was trembling.

“Are you nervous?” Helen stopped in front of her and tilted her head again in that absolutely sweet way. “Is this your first time with a woman?”

“I am. It-it is.” She swallowed. “But that’s not why I’m shaking. I…”

“Go ahead. Say it.” Helen’s face was moving towards her and she let her eyes flutter closed. Her insides pulsed maddeningly and she realized her underwear must already be soaked through.

“I just…want you…so much. It’s so…physical.” A kiss. Helen’s lips, every bit as soft as she had imagined, devouring hers. The blood was rushing violently in her ears and they hadn’t even taken their clothes off. There was a screaming urgency, the way there was on the edge of orgasm, that this moment couldn’t slip away, it must not stop, it had to reach its conclusion, please…a fantasy she didn’t even know she had was right within her grasp.

In a flood of adrenaline, she grabbed the back of Helen’s head to deepen the kiss, tangling her fingers in her hair, pressing into her tongue, rubbing down the soft curves of her body, squeezing her breasts, making out like crazed teenagers at a drive-in movie. At some point they tumbled onto the bed. She let her hat be swept off and her own dress be forced off the shoulder to give access to her breasts. Helen’s teeth on her neck, hers on Helen’s nipples, their hands sliding over every part of each other’s bodies in shameless hunger.

Helen threw back her skirts and Kay realized in a flash of panic that she was about to touch the soaked mess of her underwear. “I – Helen – ahhh!” Helen’s hand was already rubbing against it vigorously, right over the clit. All the could do was arch her back and fight not to scream. Every moment between them felt more scandalous than the last and yet more right. How long had it been since she put her own pleasure first this way?

The woman laughed good-naturedly, watching her face in admiration. “Does it feel good, honey?”

“Yes, mmm... Yes. Yes. Oh my god…”

The underwear and her tights pulled suddenly away and she felt cold air against her burning labia. She moaned in frustration, wanting it to continue, and then had a better idea.

“Wait. I want to feel you too.”

Helen stripped obligingly, right down to the skin. Only a thin gold necklace adorned her perfect body as she sank back down at Kay’s side, entwining their legs and humping at her momentarily before resuming the handjob. This time, Kay put her own hands to work. She gasped hard at the wetness pouring out of Helen’s opening, at the breathless way Helen sighed when Kay’s fingers explored the bulb of her clit and at last plunged inside her. There was so much to feel, the heat, the curvature…

But the feeling of Helen’s rhythm was so distracting. She’d gone inside Kay too, and in a minute, Kay found that she couldn’t move, she could only focus on the way her muscles were starting to clench and the way her hips wanted to thrust up into Helen’s palm. Helen was hitting some delicious spot over and over and over and her own fingers were still deep inside of Helen, massaging her like such a bad girl and… “Ahhh oh my god, don’t stop, don’t stop, I can’t, I think I’m going to…”

And to her embarrassment, she flooded over Helen’s fingers with her head thrown back and a wild moan wrenching itself from someplace deep and ecstatic in her chest. She expected her to stop after that like Michael did, but the pounding continued right through the orgasm, and within seconds she was cumming again, even harder.

And Helen nuzzled into her neck, kissed her sweat-drenched forehead, and whispered, “Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not going to stop until you’re dry.”

───•⋆⋆ʚ♥ɞ⋆⋆•───

Leaning against opposite walls on either side of the bed, the height difference between them was apparent. John must stand at least six feet to Michael’s 5’6”. Michael wondered idly whether God would permit him to sink into the floor and straight to hell in the interests of escaping this situation.

He was hard because the women had looked so pretty together. That was why. That squeeze John had given his thigh just before they stood up had nothing to do with it.

He pulled out a cigarette, grasping for some semblance of normalcy. And a second one with it, for John. “You want a smoke?”

The man just shook his head. So damn silent. Michael lit up and tried to focus on the sensations hitting his lungs and then his veins.

A long, awkward moment passed. Maybe he could just sit there and smoke for as long as it took and not do a thing.

As if in answer, the man finally spoke. “We don’t have to do anything.” He was fixing Michael with those dark, soulful eyes, the same way he’d looked at his wife. With that devastating gentleness, like he wanted to serve Michael. Wanted to give him everything he might desire, whether that was the most exhilarating night of his life or just peaceful silence. It was so damn…comforting.

Michael shook himself and paced back and forth for a minute, trying to dissipate the ache between his legs. “I’ll be frank with you, John. I don’t know what men even do together.” He found words spilling out of him. “I’m no upstanding gentleman, but I’m a man. I’ve never practiced sodomy. I brought my wife here tonight to shake her up a bit, to show her what kind of shocking debauchery goes on in this world. Better she see the sex than the blood and the death and the things men do to one another in wild betrayal or vengeance. Better she see it and never ask to see any of it again. But then your wife came along and…” He laughed hollowly. “You know what, maybe she’ll come around and be alright with the business after all. She’s alright with walking into a place like this. Who knows what the hell else is just fine with her.”

“I see.” Was he amused? Michael couldn’t tell. He stared at John, waiting, demanding some further response to that monologue. At long last, he continued. “She’ll know the difference between sex and violence. And she’ll never be just fine with the violence. At least my wife wasn’t.”

“Hmm. You’re retired, she said?”

“Yeah. For her.”

He nodded, looking away into the corner and struggling with the hopeless feeling that was starting to tighten his chest. “Well aren’t you a goody-two-shoes. But that would be an impossible task for me.”

A smile seemed to flicker over his lips, and then it was gone just as fast. “You feel trapped.”

Michael stopped pacing. He must look like a nervous fool. Now he was the one who was silent. What was he supposed to say? Yes? That was the truth, wasn’t it. He was trapped, always trapped. Trapped between the violent protection people needed and the gentleness they thought they wanted, trapped between driving his family away and letting them die. Trapped in Kay’s all-knowing, accusatory gaze.

He tilted his head backward, willing the tears to sink back behind his eyes and down his throat where he could swallow them unseen. This night had become an endless disaster. The last thing he needed was for this infuriatingly handsome man to see him crying.

John was at his side before he realized it. “Hey. I won’t lie, it’s not easy. But it’s possible. You can live a normal life if you want to. Just you and your wife, kids if you have them. Safe.”

The image, the thought of it…it was too much. Something inside of him broke and he collapsed against the warm body in front of him, horrible, pathetic noises clawing their way out of his throat. “No. No. You don’t – you don’t understand. The things I’ve done…the things people will do to me…” John just stroked the back of his head and held him gently. His head barely came up to John’s shoulder. He felt more fully embraced than he had in years.

“You can be forgiven. But not if you never confess to her. You have to trust her. And you have to make up for it the way she says.”

He spoke through the ragged waves of despair flowing out of his lungs. “I don’t trust her. She’ll leave me, John. She’ll run, because she doesn’t forgive me for anything. And I can’t – I can’t live without her, I can’t let her go, I can’t - ”

“I can’t speak to that. But I forgive you. I know who you are. You’re The Godfather, right?”

For a second, Michael’s sobbing stopped in shocked fear.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. You’re in a bad situation. The organization could collapse under you if you make the wrong move, and then the whole family’s dead. You’re trying. I forgive you.”

And Michael’s face slowly rose to meet John’s, wet and broken and suddenly feeling the compassion behind those soulful eyes. Maybe that was why he kissed him. Long, and hard, and grateful. Maybe that was why, when he pulled away, he said, “Show me what men do together.”

───•⋆⋆ʚ♥ɞ⋆⋆•───

“It’s not that he doesn’t care about my pleasure.” It was sometime past midnight. Helen was laying side by side with Kay, playing with her curls and listening in rapt attention. “It’s that he cares about it the wrong way, you know? He thinks he can buy my happiness with pretty gifts or go dancing once in a while. And I like to go dancing, believe me, but I want…I want things to be the way they were between us in the beginning. No secrets. I want him to trust me, I want his respect. That’s what would really make me happy. I want to – I want to merge with someone. Like we just did.”

Helen frowned. “So he keeps secrets from you?”

“He doesn’t just keep secrets, Helen, he outright lies. He lied to my face and said he’s not in the business anymore and then what do I find out? …Well, nothing I can safely tell a stranger, unfortunately. And as if that weren’t enough, there was this time in Sicily that none of his guards will talk to me about.” She tsked in frustration. “I know I’m being horribly suspicious, but I’m sure he had a girl there, I know he did. And if it wasn’t that, I’m sure it was something even worse.”

“Wait, go back. Let me get this straight. You asked him to quit the business, and he lied and said he did? But in reality, he never quit?”

“Exactly.”

Helen whistled. “Listen. My husband and I come to these places for a good time for everyone involved. We’re not in the habit of homewrecking. But if you want my honest advice…you can do better. I would never settle for a husband who hid his darkness from me. You know what John did for me? He left everything behind. At the risk of his own life. I can’t tell a stranger about that either, but just know that he did the right thing. And if he’d failed, he would have told me honestly. That’s what I love about him. He’ll do the right thing no matter how vulnerable he has to be.”

She let her hands continue stroking along Helen’s arms absently, deep in thought. “I’ve thought about leaving. But he’d never let me go. I’m afraid of what he’d do sometimes.”

“Oh, honey. If that’s really true, it’s even worse than I thought. You have to get out of there. You have to run.”

The idea was too much to confront. She sighed miserably, blinking at the ceiling. “How? I feel so trapped. I think I’d have to do something drastic. Something that would make him hate me. If he didn’t want me anymore…that’s the only way.”

“You’ll find a way. I believe in you. You can be safe. You and your kids. They won’t live a life like his, they’ll be good to other people and you’ll teach them what matters. They’ll be free.”

Free…the thought of that possibility just made it all worse. It was so far out of reach. Her breath was catching on every word as her voice pitched up into sobbing. “You don’t understand, Helen. He’s a violent man. He just wants to possess me like a trophy. He just wants me to shut up and not ask questions and do as he says and I’m scared – I’m so scared…I think… sometimes I think he doesn’t even love me…” There. She had said it. And there was a triumph to saying it. Something felt permanently decided.

“I don’t know. I don’t know him, I can’t say if he loves you. But I can say that he should. You deserve to be loved. You deserve happiness.” Kay curled into her, letting Helen shower her with forehead kisses and wipe away her tears. Helen would be gone in the morning. But how could she return to Michael after being held like this?

“I’ll do it, Helen. I’ll run.”

───•⋆⋆ʚ♥ɞ⋆⋆•───

There was a man between Michael’s legs.

He had a beard, and Michael loved the texture of it, the roughness. He smelled like a man. The musk of their sex crazed bodies mixed in the air, overpowering even the cigarettes. It was intoxicating. It made him feel drunk and animalistic and completely in the power of lust. He was losing himself, leaned back against the headrest with one leg dangling off the bed and the other splayed out across the sheets with John’s arm wrapped around his thigh. He was rutting into John’s mouth, giving himself over to pleasure in every way. John wanted that for him. John wanted him to feel good. John cared so much for him, for a stranger, adored his body, respected his heart. “Hhhh…fuck.” His fists closed on the sheets at the thought of it.

John was a man. And he was between Michael’s legs, and it wasn’t debauchery, and it wasn’t violence, and it felt…right. He moaned yet again, feeling tears spill from his eyes. He kept crying, damn it. This was the third time tonight (for him at least – he’d already taken John twice as well) and John was just so. Fucking. Good at this. He almost never came three times in one night, but he could feel it building up in his pelvis, so close. Could he really be this turned on for this long? Was it even physically possible? He thrust upward into John’s mouth, a hand on the back of his hair, using his head without remorse.

He was babbling, pleading without knowing what he said. “Come on, come on, give me more, please, faster, I need it, I need…”

And John’s enormous hand squeezed down on his inner thigh.

He almost screamed through the orgasm, unleashing down his throat. John swallowed all of it like it was nothing, rose up, and pulled Michael’s shaking body into a hug. “You okay?” He’d asked that every time.

Aftershocks of pleasure were still sending him twitching. It was better than being drunk, better than being high. He could barely talk but he managed, “Yes. I’ve never…I’ve never felt this good before.”

A wordless grunt. Michael was already learning to read him and that one sounded like disapproval of Kay. That disapproval translated right into more protective affection. Just about everything seemed to bring out protective affection in John. He slid into bed behind Michael and hugged his torso from behind, nuzzling the back of his head. Spooning him. Michael would be blushing as soon as his blood could make its way back from his pelvis to his cheeks. John’s hand closed over his above his heart. Why was he so sweet?

For the first time in years, Michael felt safe. He sighed, feeling his breathing slow. John would be gone in the morning. But how could he return to Kay after being held like this?

“John?”

“Hm?”

“I think…I could let her go.”

[bluelolblue]

Hi. Hello. 😈

Michael getting relentlessly teased by Santino at some big Italian wedding. Michael is trying to be a good guest but Santino keeps eating seductively and doing…things under the table until Michael snaps and rushes off to “punish” him (but of course Santino just enjoys it and ends up being the one in control oops)

YAAAY thank you!! And thank you for your patience on this one AHAH!

Okay this was fun to write, my first time writing Saintangel AND this is an AU where none of the Godfather movie events happened. That means, this is a completely different Michael Corleone who never met anyone else other than Santino D'ANTONIO. Also, submissive Michael ;]

Enjoy dominant Santino teaching Michael a lesson not to boss him around at a wedding. Somebody had to do it and it was Santino D'Antonio ehehe >:]

This gets explicit, NSFW! ^ ^

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

Exciting Celebration

“Can you stop that?” Michael asked quietly, feeling Santino's tip of the shoe grind against his heel.

“What? I'm just waiting for them to bring out those cookies,” Santino said softly, smirking a little, “I'm craving something sweet.”

They were invited to a big wedding from one of the alliances that Michael helped out. So, really, Michael was the guest they invited, but he decided to bring his lover. It was an honor to have Santino at the wedding, D'Antonio's are among the most powerful families and everyone seemed to know about Santino here. Besides, Michael felt more powerful that way. However, knowing how Santino can act with him sometimes, even in public, it was a bad idea this time.

Michael sighed, helping himself out with a club soda, trying to ignore Santino's teasing.

“Of course you are,” Michael muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Santino knocked harder on Michael's heel, making his lover huff in annoyance.

“Stop it,” Michael warned quietly, “We're in public.” He shifted in his seat.

“Obviously. But it wouldn't be the first time.” Again with that smirk. Normally, Michael would smirk back at him, even if they were in public, but they were at the wedding of someone big, there was no chance Michael would risk it.

Michael opened his mouth to say something when the sweets were served. Different types of cookies, cakes, cupcakes, fruit skewers, and something that caught Santino's eyes. Tiramisu little cakes.

Michael wanted to stick to his drink while Santino grabbed a few tiramisu cakes. It was perfectly made, with the right amount of coffee and cream, not too strong but just the perfect aroma of coffee. And Santino was already humming softly when he tasted it, good thing the music and cheering of other guests were loud, only Michael heard him and looked at him.

Bad idea to look at his lover at that very moment. Santino licked the cream off his bottom lip, and his lips were glistening just from the first bite of the cake. Michael was staring, and Santino took his chance to take another bite of it, this time slowly pulling the spoon out of his mouth and delicately getting the cream on the spoon.

“You're staring.”

Michael blinked, making eye contact with Santino, who winked at him. “Well, you're sucking on that spoon like…” Michael paused, feeling a blush appearing on his cheeks.

“Like what?” Santino titled his head. “Finish your sentence.”

“No,” Michael murmured and took a sip of his drink.

“You worry too much. You need something that will relax you.” Santino grabbed the glass out of Michael’s hold and poured the drink into a bush next to himself.

“Santino, don't-” Michael tried to stop him but it was too late.

“Red wine or scotch?” Santino pointed at the bottles on their table.

“None. Now you'll have to get me another club soda.”

“Scotch it is. You've had it before.” Santino poured it in, “Unless you want to try wine. You can drink it from my glass.”

“I don't want…” Michael pinched his eyes shut, sighing deeply, “Fine. Scotch and only one glass of it.”

Santino smiled, handing him the glass over, “There you go. Not just one sip, try taking a little more.”

Surprisingly, Michael listened, taking a longer sip. Santino seemed to like that a lot, slipping a hand over Michael's thigh.

“You can't possibly be horny at a wedding.” Michael slapped his hand off his thigh.

“Maybe I can. I mean, look at you. I barely made you drink some alcohol and you haven't even touched the sweets.”

Michael sighed, again feeling a hand on his thigh. But he couldn't lie to himself, the way Santino was touching him under the table, licking his lips whenever he swallowed, how he was smirking at him. Michael was kinda into it.

“You have no idea what you're doing to me,” Michael whispered.

“Oh?” Santino squeezed his thigh a bit harder.

“Fuck,” Michael breathed out, attempting to take another sip of his drink but his hand was shaky.

“Yeah. I'm assuming you've never done it at a wedding.” Santino leaned closer to his lover.

“Not what I meant.”

Santino just chuckled, leaning back to drink his wine.

“Come with me,” Michael suddenly said. “You don't get to do this to me at a wedding and not get punished.” He yanked on Santino's hand to hurry him.

They managed to sneak by other guests and went inside the house. There weren't many people there and the living room caught Santino's attention.

“It would be more exciting here, hm?” He closed the door behind himself, the only problem was there was no key and anyone could come in.

“If someone walks in, that's on you.” Michael tugged on Santino's tie, pulling him into a messy kiss. Michael could taste the sweetness of the tiramisu mixed with wine on his lips and when Santino teased him with his tongue. Michael loved that every time he would do that and he would punish him for that with a nip on his lips.

“Get on your knees. You had enough,” Michael breathed out, breaking the kiss.

“Now you're gonna boss me around?” Santino smirked, doing what he was told, he was finally getting what he wanted.

“Yes, c'mon now.” Michael already unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down and Santino hummed in pleasure, seeing that his lover was already half hard.

Santino slowly rubbed him before he looked up at him and took him in his mouth. Michael sighed in pleasure, digging his fingers into Santino's hair. The warmth of his mouth around him was perfect, Santino was always good at this, leaving Michael gasping, moaning and sweating.

“Fuck, Santi…” Michael moaned softly, giving a little thrust into Santino's mouth.

Santino pulled back to rub him, licking off his saliva on his lips only to swallow him whole again. He gripped his thighs, one hand moving towards his ass to tease him some more.

“No, don't…” Michael tried to warn him, gripping harder on his hair and not letting him pull away. “You're such a slut, you don't get what you want.”

Santino hummed around his dick and Michael moaned softly, loosening his grip on Santino's hair. He slightly thrusted into his mouth, smirking down at him.

“C’mon, Santi, you can take it whole.” Michael smirked down at him, Santino pulled all the way to suck on his tip.

This time, Santino didn't like that. Didn't like the way Michael was bossy with him.

“You little bastard,” Santino breathed out, wiping off his own spit on his the side of his mouth. “You're forgetting who's above you.” He stood up, pushing Michael on the couch.

“Fuck! What are you-”

“Turn around,” Santino ordered.

Michael huffed, disoriented. “No!”

“Yes. You want to punish me?” He tugged on Michael's tie, making him yelp a little. “Turn around.”

Michael had to admit to himself that he liked the way Santino was dominant with him. He obeyed, supporting himself on the couch with his hands.

Santino spat on his fingers, giving Michael a quick prep before he really went inside him.

“Don't be too loud, we know that's a struggle for you,” Santino said, smirking to himself, pushing inside him.

Michael let out a small moan, bowing his head, gripping on the couch.

“I'll be quick. But can you?” Santino gripped on Michael's hips, thrusting faster from the start.

“Fuck! Santi-” Michael whimpered, slightly arching his back for a show.

Santino chuckled breathlessly, leaning over him to nip on the nape of his neck. He wanted to leave marks so everyone could see.

He wasn't going easy on him, making Michael moan louder with each thrust, Santino had to clap a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

“Shh, you want others to hear you, don't you?” Santino teased, panting against his neck. Michael only managed to whimper into his hand, his eyes burned from the tears forming in his eyes. “That's right,” Santino moaned near his ear.

Yes, Michael was nervous someone was going to walk in, so he was trying so hard not to be loud. He was leaking precum, clenching his fists on the couch harder when Santino brushed perfectly against his sweet spot.

Santino moved his hand off his mouth leaning back to hold his hips as he thrusted harder, moaning softly in pleasure. He forced Michael to spread his legs some more, tugging on his hips, chasing his own pleasure.

“Fuck, Mikey, you're still so tight,” Santino panted, “But I fucking love it.”

Of course he does, Michael has to deal with that… compliment every time they're fucking.

“S-shut up,” Michael moaned, gasping when Santino fucked into him harder. “I-I'm…”

“I know, I know,” Santino leaned to kiss the back of his neck. “You're gonna cum on that couch, huh? C'mon, do it.”

Michael felt so dirty, doing this at someone's else's houses but at the same time it was exciting.

“I'm gonna come,” Santino warned, “Fill you up at the celebration.” He was going to and Michael knew he was going to, there was no point in protesting and he himself was close.

Michael cried out, spilling over the couch, gasping out for air when Santino pushed all the way in and moaned into his neck when he filled him up.

They both needed some time to catch their breaths and Michael was the first one to say something.

“Santi… you're fucked up in your mind,” Michael panted, letting his lover rest on top of his back for a few seconds before Santino leaned back and pulled out.

“Yeah well, I'm not the one covered in cum at someone's wedding,” Santino chuckled breathlessly, seeing how vulnerable Michael looked.

“Fuck you,” Michael breathed out, straightening up, noticing the mess on the couch. “This is your fault.”

“No one will notice that.” Santino was busy putting his belt back on, only to smile at his lover's gaze. “Don't worry.” He winked at him.

Michael rolled his eyes, fumbling with his belt, he just wanted to leave before someone caught them.

“You want me to go back there with my ass full of your cum?”

“Yeah.” Santino smiled and shrugged.

“You're messed up.” Michael walked over to him to fix his tie but Santino leaned to press a tender kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

[thewhumpcaretaker]

WAIT everyone sit down and hold the phone.

I was trying to figure out who to ship Michael with because I don't really love writing x reader and I don't really like Kay or Apollonia that much (sorry) and most of the other characters are related. But...I just realized I can do crossover fics with the JW universe.

Michael Corleone x John Wick

Michael Corleone x Helen

Michael Corleone x Vincent de Gramont

Michael Corleone x Gianna D'Antionio

Michael Corleone x Santino D'Antonio

Do you see the vision???

[ashlingiswriting]

20 Questions for Fanfic Writers

thank you for the tag, @drabbles-mc 🥰

1) How many works do you have on AO3?: i have 275 on AO3.

2) What's your total AO3 word count?: 773,676. Life willing, I'd like to hit a milli one day.

3) What fandoms do your write for?: Literally so many? not in any particular mode rn, just struggling my way through a The Bear (TV) longfic. historically my biggies were: peaky blinders, exchange fandom (aka just writing gifts in a bunch of diff fandoms for fanfic exchanges), narcos, and now i'm jus drifting

4) Top 5 fics by kudos: This...is not what i expected???

The Truth — Apollonia x Michael Corleone, ficlet

Ten Things — Alfie Solomons x reader, 8.7k

Oblivion (Never Been A Better Reason) — Venom/Eddie Brock, 7.2k

STREET SMARTS! — Charlie x Harper (from Set It Up), 1.3k

The Intern — M'Baku x black reader, 13.8k

There is just...there is no rhyme or reason to this. Or pattern. God I love fandom so much

5) Do you respond to comments?: Yes! I try to answer them all, although sometimes I hoard comments on a recent chapter of a longfic so I can reread them, which is...silly, cause I can still reread them once I've replied to them? I should be better/swifter about this.

6) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?: I spent an inordinate amount of time coming up with a shortlist. This is not what the question asked for, but I'm listing them anyways because I couldn't narrow it down any further.

last rites. — Horacio Carrillo x reader, 4.6k

in for five years — Mick Moynihan character study, 1k

not right/not enough — Javier Peña x Horacio Carillo, ficlet

The End — OFC x OFC, 2.2k

Oblivion (Never Been A Better Reason) — Venom/Eddie Brock, 7.2k

7) What's a fic you wrote with the happiest ending?: I have a handful of total fluffies, I think? This is one.

Peach — Astrid Leong/Goh Peik Lin, 2.4k

8) Do you get hate on fics?: Not that I can remember, though I have experienced a few stunners secondhand through friends who have gotten some real weird/inaccurate/racist stuff.

9) Do you write smut?: Yes! Badly.

10) Craziest crossover?: I couldn't choose.

this is the last time — Avatar (animated 00s children's TV show) x Mad Max: Fury Road (R rated 2015 dystopian action movie)

the pale orange skirt in the Continental lobby — John Wick (recent gritty action movies) x Marie Kondo RPF (reality tv show about supremely pleasant small woman who teaches organizational skills)

One thing about me is that I'll treat a crack crossover dead serious.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?: No, thank goodness! I'd be so upset.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?: Yes! I only allow translations to be published on AO3, and I prefer people ask first. I've been translated into Mandarin, Russian, and Bengali. Pride and joy <3

13) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?: Ohhhh yeah. The big ones are:

The Pack Survives cowritten with herequeerandreadytofight, 54,597

A Bit of Heart Left cowritten with shoshe_anders, 53,034

heart full of love and murder cowritten with herequeerandreadytofight, 38,520

I find that it's way easier to sustain longfic with a partner. We go back and forth writing a paragraph or two, then handing it over again. Nobody is in charge of specific characters, both partners can just do whatever they want (with communication, ofc).

14) All time favorite ship?: I have no idea, tbh.

15) What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?: Anything I've tagged "Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued" on AO3 while holding back tears. Plenty. No further comment. 😂

16) What are your writing strengths?: i

17) What are your writing weaknesses?: Smut and fight sequences. Anything where it's primarily description of 2+ bodies doing extremely important and physically precise interaction. Yeesh! Yuck. It's hard.

18) Thoughts on dialogue in another language?: Speaking as a reader, my first preference is that a fic be all in one language, regardless of what that language is. After that, I like when there are entire chunks in another language. My least favorite type is when the whole fic is one language, but then inexplicably there's only a few words, or just random very simple sentences in another language. If the characters themselves very naturally go from language to another in their canon everyday life and it's a characterization choice, then I'm sometimes into it, but again I prefer it if it's done realistically, i.e. it's not all just one language with only swear words or only basic words thrown in of the other language, but rather reflects how bi- or multilingual people really go in and out of different languages with each other (like my aunts and grandmother, for example). As a writer, I don't envision myself mixing languages in a fic unless it's for a very specific reason. I've done an all-Spanish ficlet, but I doubt it was good. I particularly admire people who regularly publish in languages other than English and Mandarin, and I wish I could support them via commenting more, but I'm just not properly fluent.

19) First fandom you wrote in?: A Jason Bourne x East Indian original female character fic in a composition book as a child, never shared with anyone. My OFC wore purple a lot and their meetcute was her spying on him and then having to save his life when he almost choked to death on a chicken bone.

20) Favorite fic you've ever written?: Can't pick just one, yet again. Oblivion (Never Been A Better Reason) I love because I feel I was able to sublimate my feelings and experiences during that time into a work of art. The Bride and do i know you? both because the longfic experience of working on it over time and accumulating readers and interacting with them and genuinely feeling that I'm creating something for people who care about it is just...really meaningful to me.

[santinos-grenade-launcher]

Me when Santino x John

And me when Santino x Michael Corleone

And me when Santino D'Antonio

And me when John Wick

Happy jumps :3

[bandaids-not-groupies]

I was tagged by @roses-from-hanoi 😉 thanks darling!

9 favorite characters from 9 different things

these aren’t in any specific order

1. Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier - Captain America trilogy

2. John Wick - John Wick

3. Jack Sparrow - Pirates of the Caribbean

4. Castiel - Supernatural

5. Vanessa Ives - Penny Dreadful

6. Erik Lehnsherr - X-men

7. Lip Gallagher - Shameless

8. Newt Scamander - Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

9. Michael Corleone - The Godfather

Idk who to tag lmao so if you feel like doing this then go for it!

[adland]

Grolsch, the beer brand, is celebrating its eighth year as the official brew of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) with an integrated campaign that extends its presence into the bars and restaurants surrounding festival venues.

In addition to out-of-home and social elements, the campaign from Toronto’s Smaller Agency also includes the “Sip & Social”—a TIFF-based card game designed to act as a social lubricant. Participating bars are distributing the game along with popcorn and instructions. The game consists of cards in four categories; Yup or Nope, Would You Rather, Opener, Unfinished Business, and 4 Pack. Samples for each are below.

Yup or Nope: TIFF was originally named The Festival of Festivals.

  Would You Rather: Would you rather be John Wick or Tony Stark. Why him?

  Opener: If you could be any movie character for one day, who would you choose?

  Unfinished Business:  Complete this line by Vin Diesel’s character Dom Toretto in the film Fast and Furious (2001). “I live my life one _____  __ _ ____.”

  4 Pack: Which actor turned down the part of Michael Corleone in The Godfather?

A Robert Redford

B Jack Nicholson

C Dustin Hoffman

D all of the above  

According to Smaller Agency’s founder Noah Barlow, people are increasingly looking to participate in activities when they are out together. “This places Grolsch at the centre of the activity and gives people fun film knowledge that they can share with each other through a social game,” says Barlow.

The creative elements show Grolsch’s iconic green bottle, including its instantly recognizable “swing top,” in film-related environments such as the hair and makeup chair, in front of a green screen and on the film’s set.

In keeping with TIFF’s core idea of letting visuals do most of the talking, the ads are light on copy, relying only on a single film-related expression, such as “Bold,” “Character,” and “Distinctive.”

As the lead creative agency for the Grolsch and TIFF partnership, Smaller Agency also developed all bar-related communications, including posters, coasters, tent cards and sell sheets.

Client: Grolsch Project: Grolsch x TIFF Partnership Agency: Smaller Agency (website coming soon)   

Creative Director: Noah Barlow Art Director & Designer: Amber Hsu Copywriter: Susanne Weinber

Canada

Drinks & Alcohol

game

design

-- via Adland

[corleonecaretaker]

Ten Sentence Tuesday

Thanks for the tag @bluelolblue! A link to that post is here. Have the start of my John Wick x Michael Corleone slowburn:

The most impenetrable kind of man is not stoic. Michael Corleone smiles, he jokes. He goes Christmas shopping and laughs with snowflakes on his nose. He surrounds himself with family, with a wife and children. He arranges bright, warm, soft things around himself. And he sits in the middle of them, and he hardens against them all. John Wick is stoic. But John is pierced by thousands of bullets, thousands of blades. Like wind through a flute, they pass through him, singing. And he lets himself be open to them, in memory of the love that pierced just as deep.

It was inspired by this passage from The Godfather III, when Michael is speaking to Cardiinal Lamberto about the state of Europe and of his own soul:

<Cardinal Lamberto moves towards a fountain.> Look at this stone. It has been lying in the water for a very long time, but the water has not penetrated it. <He breaks the stone.> Look. Perfectly dry. The same thing has happened to men in Europe. For centuries they have been surrounded by Christianity, but Christ has not penetrated. Christ doesn't breathe within them.

I'm going to try to make the tone of this piece more serious - we'll see how it goes, haha!

I am tagging @evrensadwrn if you'd like to join! (I'm not sure if it's actually Tuesday where you are but that's okay)

[corleonecaretaker]

Santino humping Michael's thigh hard, like he's such a bitch for it, he cries when he comes in his pants

(I just like to imagine Santino being a slut all the time... and him humping a thigh has been on my mind for so long, I'm going insane)

Uhh yeah just thought I'd share this thought with you :]

Hehehe, this is so Santino. I love that these two work as any combination of dom and sub. Thank you for the ask!!

Also, for new people: I'm writing these two as if the Corleone family was forced to join the High Table and serve Santino D'Antonio, who is in charge of the Camorra's US operations.

Urgent Business

Michael Corleone x Santino D'Antonio, AKA SaintAngel (John Wick Fandom Crossover), 926 words

TW: smut, biting, crying, what could be interpreted as stalking

It hadn’t been so long since they’d seen each other. But to Santino, it had been an eternity. Two months. Two months of hell in New York, trying to balance Michael’s demands with his family’s expectations, without revealing that he favored the Corleones. Why did he always feel like he was the one working for the Don instead of the other way around? He was wrapped around Michael’s finger, and he had to admit he liked it.

But he couldn’t take the loneliness anymore. A few long distance calls, panting desperately into the receiver to the sounds of Michael’s dirty talk, simply wasn’t enough. In February, he showed up unannounced in Nevada.

Michael entered his study that evening and froze, a hand still on the doorknob. “How did you get past the guards?”

“I had ‘urgent business’ with you. They know better than to refuse a representative from the Table.” Santino was sitting at his desk, wearing a smug grin.

Michael clicked the door shut and frowned. Any trace being caught off guard had already vanished. “Hmmm. And what business would that be, exactly?”

He toyed with Michael’s pen, spinning it between his fingers. “Don’t I deserve a reward, for everything I’ve being doing for you?”

The answer wasn’t immediate. Michael took his time, leaning against the wall to light a cigarette. Santino watched the movement of his lips gripping the paper lazily, the smooth, unhurried motions of the lighter. At last Michael returned his gaze, eyeing him, calculating. “You don’t deserve a reward for breaking into my study.” When Santino opened his mouth to protest, he raised a finger. “Yes, yes, not breaking in. You were allowed right in the door. But it’s the behavior of a sex-starved stalker, wouldn’t you agree?”

Santino flushed and stood up. “Whose fault is that, Mikey? You haven’t visited me,” he whined. Michael made no reply, didn’t even look at him. He just looked out the window at the setting sun.

Fine. Time to get his attention, then. This was the way their little games always went. Santino circled around the desk to drape himself over Michael’s chest, inhaling his smoke and nuzzling against his neck in an effort to distract him. But it was Santino who was getting hot and bothered. “You can’t tell me I’ve come all this way for nothing,” he panted, inches from Michael’s lips.

A small sigh. “This is what happens when you come into my home without permission, Santi. You don’t get to cum in me.”

An indignant whimper escaped his throat. The Don’s body was intoxicatingly close to him now, right within reach yet so far away. Desperate for relief, Santino wove their legs through each other, straddling his thigh. Pleading and promises fell from his lips unbidden. “Please, ah fuck…Michael, I need it. Please, you can’t do this to me. I’ll make it the best you’ve ever had. You can do anything to me. Choke me, bite me, ride me until I bleed, I don’t care. I’ve been sitting here all day, thinking about you…”

Michael chuckled. “You’re really that horny? Well, help yourself then. I’m not going to help you.” He took another drag, feigning disinterest and looking out the window again. But his hand was on the small of Santino’s back, supporting him.

That touch alone was enough to drive him crazy. It was completely undignified, but he didn’t care. He just started grinding against the Don’s thigh, grateful even for that little friction. “Bastard,” he swore breathlessly. “Look what you’ve done to me.” He squeezed his thighs against Michael’s, gripping solid muscle. Maybe it was his imagination, but it seemed like Michael shifted his knee upward, angling into it.

“Mmm…please, kiss me Mikey. Please.” He strained towards Michael’s lips but two fingers pressed against his own, pushing him back. He growled in frustration and retaliated by taking them into his mouth, sucking on them vigorously. Maybe he could get close like this…but in another moment they were pulled away again, producing another whine.

Santino was getting to be a real mess. Sweat beaded against his collar and tears were forming in his eyes. “Fuck! No…I need to cum so bad…”

“Fine then. Show me how much.”

Santino moaned and humped faster, heedless of the way the fabric burned and strained against his oversensitive cock. The humiliation of the whole thing started to overwhelm him. The agony of those lips so close to his, those blank eyes fixed on Santino’s burning cheeks. And the rhythm that felt so good but so filthy. He realized he really was going to cum in his pants like a dog humping his master’s leg, but he couldn’t seem to stop. His own legs started shaking and he nearly slid sideways but Michael held him in place, letting him rut as hard as he wanted.

Michael must have felt the change in his motions, because he clamped a hand over Santino’s mouth before he could moan too loudly. Santino bit down on the flesh without thinking, but it didn’t stop him from sobbing through his orgasm.

When his senses started to return, he realized he tasted iron.

“Fuck…I bit you…” he said brokenly, still gasping.

But their little game was over, and that gentle, strong hand just caressed his cheeks, wiping away tears. “It’s okay.” Michael guided him to the chair and pulled him into his lap, holding him.

Only then did Santino feel his tiredness. Perhaps Michael had needed him just as badly. “I missed you,” Don Corleone said softly, into his curls. “Thank you for coming.”

[corleonecaretaker]

✦ ℍ𝕚𝕥 𝕄𝕖 ✦

Michael Corleone x Santino D'Antonio, AKA SaintAngel (John Wick Fandom Crossover), 2500 words

This was inspired by a comment from @onconstellationstreetmp3 requesting a sub Michael Corleone fic! I basically read that comment and starting writing it immediately, haha. I don't really know if it's a crack fic or completely earnest, and I don't know if any of the logistical mafia stuff makes sense. But I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Michael Corleone was forced to sign on with the High Table or be destroyed. Now the Table wants a cut of the casino profits, and Santino D'Antonio, the Camorra prince who now outranks the Don, has come to collect. But he's taken an unexpected interest in Michael. Has Don Corleone finally met someone he can't predict or control? Maybe that's exactly what he needs...

TW: smoking, NSFW, under-negotiated BDSM (but no one gets seriously hurt by it), Michael hates himself, slapping and punching, degradation, flashback, crying, attempting to use BDSM as self-harm

Image Sources: One | Two

Santino D’Antonio, head of American operations of the Camorra seat at the High Table. Santino D’Antonio, a prince with a flair for impractical firearms that had a tendency to make jobs go bad. Santino D’Antonio, thorn in Michael Corleone’s side.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like having me around, Don Corleone.” Sprawled out in Michael’s favorite armchair like it was his, Santi flicked a lighter to his cigarette. It wasn’t even a good brand. Michael’s eyes lingered on it in distaste. A man like Santino could afford something better, even cigars, so why did he smoke that junk anyway? His fashion was immaculate, his guns were the top-of-the-line, but when it came to indulgences, he seemed to like things cheap and dirty. Michael couldn’t understand why.

“I assure you, Mr. D’Antonio, I wish you a swift return to New York.” This was the third day of Santino’s visit to the Corleone family residence in Nevada. It had been a long few days for Michael, constantly on guard, knowing that every moment was a negotiation, no matter how seemingly innocuous. His eyes had remained fixed on Santino at all times until that was all he seemed to see, even when he shut them. He hardly slept for the fear that came with having a High Table emissary on the premises. He was as perfectly groomed as ever, but the dark circles showed nonetheless.

“Then sign.” He had been sent to obtain a contract securing a percentage of earnings from the casinos. Michael was adamant that, because the casinos included legitimate interests, the High Table had no claim to their profits. Only direct drug and mercenary profits were fair game, he argued. But Santino wasn’t having it – wasn’t allowed to give in even if he wanted to, probably. If Michael was under significant pressure to run his family well, he could only imagine what the consequences of failure must be for a D’Antonio heir.

But if that was true, Santino was playing fast and loose with his own life. Every time Michael heard anything about Santino, it was that he’d done something so completely out of pocket that it made even the Don feel downright unsafe. Attacking territory he had no claim to, making calls he didn’t have the authority to make and somehow winning the authority later…but here he was, continuing to cheat death. And try to cheat Michael out of his money.

“The Corleones may be new to the Table, but you don’t get to play stupid. I know a part of the business when I see it.” Santino stood, coming toe to toe with him, their smoke intertwining and shimmering in the amber lamplight. “I know intelligence when I see it, too.”

Michael’s face didn’t budge. “Flattery, Santino? Really?” He reclaimed his chair while he had the opportunity, but it didn’t make him feel any more comfortable. Santino was looming over him now.

“Don’t like it? Maybe I’ll try the opposite. You look horrible. Like you’ll pass out at any second.” A wave of smoke enveloped Michael’s face from above.

Enough. “Do that one more time.”

Santino took a long drag, and obliged.

“Okay. Okay. Come here.” He gestured for Santino to lean down, and when he did, grabbed him by the back of the hair, forcing his head down to whisper uncomfortably close in his ear. “If you want me to be this close with me, you want the Camorra and the Corleones to be this buddy-buddy, you treat me with respect. It’ll be on my terms, on my – “

But Santino was not responding to the power move as expected, not trying to pull away. He seemed to be…leaning into it? He had pushed one knee onto the seat between Michael’s legs and braced a hand to the seatback, right next to his head. And it was Michael who let him go and strained backward into the cushion, suddenly uncomfortable with their proximity.

He waited for Santino to move away and he didn’t. Just put out his cigarette on the ashtray next to them and then placed his hand right next to Michael’s head again, fixing him with a smile and too intense gaze. Michael had to force words out. “What is this? Just what the devil are you playing at?”

“It was you who grabbed me,” he said innocently. “I’m just doing what I’m told, Don Corleone. Doing things on your terms.”

Michael took a deep breath and then a leap. “Let me be very clear, Mr. D’Antonio. I think you’re trying to seduce me into signing and if I’m right, you’re going to pay.”

He tsked and straightened up, one leg still on the armchair between Don Corleone’s. “This is your problem, you think too much. All those hours, with your little cigar in your hand, with your legs crossed in case anything gets in, trying to decide what everybody is playing at and who’s to blame for what, revisiting your worst memories over and over in between worst-case scenarios. I see you all the time. You brood, Michael Corleone.” Santino’s knee rocked forward in a sudden movement that made him pre-emptively wince. But it didn’t even touch him, pulled back just fast enough to be teasing rather than ball-crushing. As the fear withdrew, it left his hairs standing on end.

“I don’t - I do not brood.” Damn it, it was so hard to speak with Santino’s knee shoved between his thighs like that. It came out breathless and petulant.

“You do. I should know, because so do I. But I fixed it. You know what I do when I get that way?”

“…What?” Michael wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear the answer, when his mind was so filled with visions of Santi sitting alone with a cigarette, needing someone. The smoke seemed to be leaking out of the image to cloud the rest of his brain.

He leaned right over Michael to whisper in his ear, an echo of the power move Michael had just attempted and had come to regret. Their chests were touching, Michael realized, and he wished his heart would stop pounding. He wondered if Santino could feel it through both their vests. “I fuck. Until I have no brains left to brood with.”

His hand went to the side of Santino’s waist. To shove him off? Or was this reflex, muscle memory from when girls had leaned over him this way? “I’m not signing.”

At that, Santino lost patience. “This is not about the fucking deal! Don’t sign it then! Let my father and the whole High Table chase you from here to New York and back again!” He reached over Michael’s shoulder to sweep the papers off the desk behind them. “This is about the fact that I’ve been watching you, and you haven’t been touched in at least six months, probably longer by that dead look in your eyes half the time. You want me. So beg.”

Michael’s mind was drawing a blank. All his resolve had gone into resisting Santino on business terms. There was none left for…this. He was just staring up at him, breathing hard. It’s not about the deal…it’s about me…ridiculous. He had to get a grip. “Move your fucking leg,” he managed.

Santino grinned back wickedly. “Move it how? Off?”

Yes. Get off. Right? But he kept not saying anything. The ideas that had just sprung up in his head about Santino grinding forward against him weren’t allowing any air out of his lungs. And with every passing second, he took note of the tension in Santino’s face. He could feel the prince dancing on a razor’s edge, wondering if he’d miscalculated, if he was about to be horribly embarrassed. But he could sense that it wouldn’t make him any less reckless next time if he was. Michael could have shot him for just the proposition – he was that kind of man. He shouldn’t, it would be unwise for the family, but he very well might and Santino knew it. Santino D’Antonio must not care about his own life at all. And that made him a complete wild card, unbelievably dangerous.

Michael’s heart wouldn’t stop racing.

The moment stretched forever. Slowly, very slowly, he shook his head no. There was a flicker of relief that was instantly lost in that wicked smile, which was only growing. “Oh. Not off. Like this, then?” He shifted forward again on his knee, slower this time, until his slacks met Michael’s at the crotch. The contact forced out the shuddering breath that had been trapped inside him.  Yes. Like that.

There was the seam of his own fly against the traveler’s crease that bisected Santino’s pantleg. There was his skin, beneath just a few layers of fabric. Michael’s hips rolled upward, hungry.

The move was answered with a slap across the face.

“I asked you a question. I didn’t ask you to hump my leg, you slutty thing. Is this what you want? Yes or no?”

Rage flared through him, chasing the pink that was already flaring up in his stinging cheek. It was that rage that made everything possible, that made him want one or both of them to be pinned down, hit, ridden senseless. Through clenched teeth, “Yes, now fucking give it to me.”

He pushed forward as if to grab Santino by the lapel and knock him down onto the floor, capture his lips and anything else he wanted, but Santino was too quick for him. He shoved Michael back into the seat by the forehead, a hand fisting into his hair until it pulled. “STAY.”

The restraint was so delicious he grabbed for the man’s suitcoat a second time, trying to drag him closer. Again, he was pushed back.

“You need something to occupy your hands, Mikey?” Santino’s fly came down, and there he was, already shining with precum. It was bigger than Michael could have expected, for the size of the arrogant little upstart it was attached to. And it was soft under his fingers. Michael grabbed it like an obedient fucktoy and started pumping. He hated himself for it.

He was stealing this moment for himself. There was nothing in the room but the two of them, their muffled grunts, the very faint squeak of leather on the worn seat of the armchair and the heavy musk starting to pour off both their bodies. There was nothing to sign, no High Table, no Corleones, no obligations. He was alone with Santino. And he was straining against his slacks, flushed scarlet and harder than he’d been in years just from rubbing against his own superior. His hands wandered from Santino’s body to his own fly, seeking relief.

Santino laughed, smacked the back of his hand and put it on his cock again. “No. You’re gonna cum inside your filthy rich suit, Don Corleone. The same kind of suit you wear to all your business functions. The same one I see you in all the damn time, while you pace with your bourbon and pretend not to look at me.” The man loved to talk, clearly. He was getting off on his own words, already gasping against the building pressure inside him.

Michael found himself mesmerized. The way the buildup made Santino’s eyelids flutter and his thighs flex… He’d never watched it from this perspective. Santino was still talking. “You’re gonna cum in your suit, and I’m gonna cum on top of it.” God, he looked hot – that delicate mouth parted, head tipped back and moaning like a woman. His hand twisted in Michael’s hair to the point of pain and it just made him rut harder, god, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t restrain himself… “You’ll be such a mess ah, god, I can’t wait to see you like that…”

“Think carefully about who you’re talking to,” Michael said, but the words meant nothing.

“My bitch. The horniest bitch I’ve ever encountered.” A hard bounce from his knee shot a wave of pleasure straight to Michael’s core, and it must have wrecked his face because Santino laughed. “I like it, you know. It feels perfect, knowing what a mess you are. What you’re like when you let yourself go. You’re – ah fuck. Michael…”

And then suddenly he was covered in Santi’s cum, dripping down his face, onto his lips, warm and sticky and tasting like the summer ocean. There was so much of it. All over his tie, his vest, his hands. He was fairly sure he would have spontaneously combusted if not for the fact that, just when he was at his most desperate for relief, Santino had stopped moving. Michael was half deafened by pleasure but still heard himself groan. For a second, he thought was going to be left like that, a pathetic mess. “Please,” he choked out, hardly realizing what he was saying.

“Please what, baby?” Santino just appraised him for a moment, feeling his cock twitch helplessly against his leg until his own started to stiffen again. If anyone was the horniest bitch, it was Santino. He started moving again.

Michael writhed, desperate for more friction, and it wasn’t working. The lull had taken its toll, allowed reality to come crashing back over him. Just what was he doing? Please what? Why was he begging, for once in his life, and not just taking what he wanted? The disappointment, the failure that he was, the knowledge that he was letting this asshole get the upper hand …it swirled into an endless whirlpool, dragging him down.

“Hit me,” he muttered.

A slap across the face. Good. Fucking good.

“Hit me.” Louder this time.

Another slap swung his head the other way. On top of the previous one, an echoing, dull pain. Suddenly he was on the ground again, being beaten by McCluskey’s men, unable to save himself. He was failing his family. He was failing God. He was losing everyone, everything, and there were long repressed tears of fury stinging the backs of his eyes.

“Hit harder!”

This time he didn’t. “Why? Are you thinking again?” Santino’s head was tilted, like he recognized something, like he saw into the darkness for a second. It scared Michael half to death. Whatever Santi thought he saw, the Don wanted to pummel it out of both of them.

“I SAID HIT ME! HIT ME HARDER!”

A punch, this time. He hit hard enough to knock those tears free, to break something inside of Michael that ordinary people couldn’t break. He felt his face twist up in pain that was only half physical.

And then Santi kissed him. Kissed him like a real lover, sweet and unending, with his arms around Michael’s shoulders. Kissed him with the lingering bite of New York cigarettes and the passion of a velvet tongue. Like he knew what was wrong and how it felt. Like he knew what it took to get to the point at which asking for anything sparked total self-destructive rage. Like he had Michael, really had him. Michael moaned, completely lost in him. “Starai bene [You’ll be okay],” Santi whispered against his lips, still rocking on that knee.

And Don Corleone came inside his filthy rich suit.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Seven Songs of Suffering: Secrets

I'm gonna give all my secrets away - OneRepublic

I’m not sure whether a list will count for the challenge. Let me know if not! I'll try to do another one. But since today is whump day and people are talking about their whump journeys, here's every character I can think of who I’ve treated as a whumpee in my head at some point. Some were romantic for me and others were just pure whump. I left out nothing, even if it’s problematic looking back on it (I have regrets). Although I'm sure I forgot a few because there are a LOT! These are in roughly chronological order starting when I was a toddler to present day. Some have stayed blorbos in the back of my mind and others have not, but they were all important to me at some point. Send an ask about any of them if you want to know why I liked them so much!

Note: Characters from the same media are listed together, but it doesn’t mean that I shipped them.

Mickey Mouse

Mario, Luigi, Peach, and Daisy

Anakin Skywalker

Mulder from The X-Files

Frodo Baggins

Stuart Little

Harry Potter

Aislinn, Tyris, and Tamika from Heroes of Might and Magic III

Mary Cicily Barker fairies

Any of the Rainbow Magic fairies

Any Babysitter’s Club character

River from Firefly

Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle

Marianne from Sense and Sensibility

Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre

Seven of Nine from Star Trek

Hamlet

Dr. Horrible from Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog

Tyler/Narrator from Fight Club

Jason Dean from Heathers

Neo from The Matrix

Sherlock Holmes from Sherlock

Light and L from Death Note

Ciel Phantomhive from Kuroshitsuji

Deadpool

Batman

Lucifer from…the Bible I guess

Michael Corvin from Underworld

Lestat and Louis from Interview with the Vampire

The unnamed narrator of Notes from Underground

Guts from Berserk

Karl Heisenberg from RE8

Shane from Stardew Valley

Heathcliffe

Astarion from BG3

John Wick, Marquis de Gramont, and Santino D’Antonio

Michael Corleone and Kay Adams Corleone from The Godfather

[thewhumpcaretaker]

❤️ Whump Dating Sim Planning: Which Whumpee? ❤️

Okay, so, I’ve been toying with this idea of a choose-your-own-adventure style whump dating sim in which we have a caretaker x whumpee situation, with the reader being the caretaker. It will be made up of polls. The winning poll choices will earn the audience relationship points, and eventually hearts, with the whumpee. Enough hearts will result in a “cutscene” (an X Reader fic or drawing).

So, let’s start by choosing a whumpee! I…shamelessly selected the characters I’m currently fixated on, and an OC. If the “new OC”option wins, I’ll make more polls to design the whumpee.