#santino corleone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

melis-writes · 1 year ago

Text

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.

#the godfather #james caan #sonny corleone x reader #sonnycorleone x oc #sonny corleone fanfic #godfather au #sonny corleone smut #sonny corleone x reader smut #sonny corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #santino corleone x reader #santino corleone x oc #santino corleone fanfic #santino corleone smut #santino corleone x reader smut #santino corleone #mafia wife fic #mafia wife fanfic

264 notes · View notes

bluelolblue · 2 months ago

Note

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.”

#RAAAAH #have these two being nasty at a wedding AHAH #saintangel #santino d’antonio #santino d'antonio #michael corleone #santino d'antonio x michael corleone #john wick and godfather crossover

7 notes · View notes