#santino d'antonio x you

[fics-not-tragedies]

January 2024 Music Prompts: Day 7

Don't Blame Me ♫ Taylor Swift

Don't Blame Me ♫ Taylor Swift x Santino D'Antonio

I would fall from grace/Just to touch your face

Santino, with his brooding charm and penchant for taking risks, was a man used to living on the margins of society. The neon lights of the city reflected in his dark eyes the intensity that simmered beneath the surface. He moved like a shadow through the crowded streets, his thoughts a labyrinth of desires and pain.

One fateful evening, he found himself in a dimly lit jazz club, where the sultry notes of a saxophone told stories of passion and longing. The air was thick with anticipation and Santino took a seat at the bar, drawn by an invisible force.

As the barman placed a glass in front of him, he couldn't shake the image that had haunted his dreams - a face, delicate and distant, like a mirage shimmering at the edge of his consciousness. He could not resist the pull, the magnetic force that drew him towards an unknown destiny.

The jazz band continued its soulful serenade, casting a spell over the smoky atmosphere. Santino's eyes scanned the room, searching for the elusive face that had etched itself into the corridors of his mind.

And then, there you were - a vision in the low light, her eyes a haunting shade that held the secrets of a thousand stories. Santino felt a jolt in his chest, a heartbeat that transcended the rhythmic pulse of the jazz.

"I would fall from grace," he thought, captivated by the ethereal presence before him, "just to touch your face."

As if guided by an unseen force, Santino approached you. The world around both of you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the haunting melody of the saxophone and the quiet murmurs of shared glances.

"May I?" he asked, extending his hand in a silent invitation to dance.

You nodded, a knowing smile playing on your lips. You two moved in rhythm with the music, bodies swaying to the intoxicating melody. In the dance's ebb and flow, Santino felt a connection that defied explanation - a magnetic pull that drew him closer to the mysteries you held.

The jazz club transformed into a sanctuary of shared secrets and unspoken desires. Santino, usually a man of few words, found himself compelled to speak.

"I would fall from grace," he whispered into your ear, his voice a husky murmur against the notes of the saxophone, "just to touch your face."

Your eyes held a mixture of surprise and recognition, as if you, too, had dreamt of a connection that transcended the boundaries of reality. In that dimly lit space, Santino and you shared a dance that spoke of yearning and the uncharted territories of the heart.

As the final notes lingered in the air, both of you found yourselves at the entrance of the jazz club, the city's lights a mosaic of possibilities. The night held a promise, and Santino couldn't resist the pull of destiny.

"Bella," he said, his words hanging in the air like a vow, "I’ve dreamt about you."

While your gaze held a silent agreement, you took his hand. Together you navigated the labyrinthine streets of the city, your footsteps echoing with the heartbeat of a shared connection that transcended the boundaries of time.

As you stood at the edge of a moonlit bridge, Santino brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle yet electric in intensity. The pulse of the city matched the rhythm of your hearts, and in that moment Santino knew that he had not fallen out of favour, but into the embrace of a destiny written in the stars.

"There is no one I want more, bella," he murmured, his lips touching yours.

And with that kiss, you knew he was yours for eternity together.

[bluelolblue]

Under Your Control

Sumarry: You took care of your exhausted husband, Santino. Since he is overworking himself often, he deserves to relax after everything. And the way to do that is with pegging him.

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/Fem!reader

Note: Okay, it's finally done. It's been so long since I wrote anything with "reader" ahaha. I really tried my best to get myself to work on this and make it good enough, but like I said it's been a while since I wrote anything like this, so apologies if some stuff may seem odd. I really tried to make it good, and I hope y'all will like it! <3

Enjoy this pegging Santino fic ^ ^

°°••♡••°°

Santino is constantly overworking himself, not to mention times when he'd return home with bruises and blood on him.

That would break your heart every time and you'd treat his wounds and bruises no matter how many times he had told you not to worry about that.

“Santino, you seriously need rest. How many times have I told you that?” You said, walking over to the desk to take away the papers or whatever he was doing. “I'm sorry…” He murmured but before he could say anything more you took away the papers from him and tossed them on the sofa.

He sighed, leaning back against his chair. “Why did you do that?” He asked tiredly, sounding so innocent. Mostly because he was so exhausted. “Maybe because I care for your health? You obviously don't care and someone has to,” You said, going through his hair with your fingers.

Santino hummed softly, he loves when you play with his hair. “You need to relax, sweetie,” You murmured softly and leaned to press a kiss on his cheek.

“Wait...bella…” He said, taking hold of your hand. “Hm?” You hummed curiously. He seemed a bit nervous there for a second as he stood up from the chair, out of habit fixing his tie.

“Aw, what's the matter?” You asked, more in a sympathizing way. You reached to caress his face that seemed to be slightly blushing. “Ah, I just...I had a horrible week,” He said and finally looked at you, making eye contact with him.

“Yes, you did. I know,” You said, caressing his face with one hand. He takes a gentle hold of your hand that was on his cheek. “Go take a shower and join me in bed, okay?” You suggested. He hummed in agreement, this time he didn't use any of his excuses on how this paperwork is important.

You waited in bed for him, actually feeling sleepy. You wonder how he's doing this every day, having his routine all over the place and barely any rest.

You were starting to doze off when he came out of the bathroom, the scent of a fresh shampoo followed and he smelled so good. “Tired, love?” He asked softly as he got next to you in bed. “Mm, yes. How are you not tired?” You asked, chuckling softly as he kissed your neck. “I'm used to it,” He whispered as he continued to press kisses on your neck. “Yeah, I can tell,” You said with a tired smile and turned to his side to kiss him.

Well, he was eager all of a sudden. Caressing your thigh as you kissed him, and he took some control over the kiss. When he gets like this, you know what he wants.

“After everything you still have the strength for this?” You smirked, nipping onto his lower lip. “Always for you,” He breathed out, kissing your neck, your collarbone.

You moaned softly, going through his hair with your fingers while he left some love bites on your neck. He loves to mark you so everyone knows you belong to him.

“What would you like to do, baby?” You asked, ready to give him whatever he wants. He deserves it after this week. “Can you take care of me tonight? Please?” He begged, his tired eyes looked so cute. He had that puppy look.

You could feel yourself blushing but damn you can't resist him. Especially not now when he is clearly being submissive to you. “Yes, baby, I can do that,” You said and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

“I-I just need it… it's been so long since we did that.” It has been. Last time you fucked him was on his birthday so it's been months already. And the way he begged, moaned, cried out for you was so hot. You loved having him under your control, how submissive he was.

He always gets a bit nervous, shy when he's about to do this and you find it so cute. He's already slightly shaking just from the thought of it. “Hey, I'll relax you, sweetie. Don't worry, you'll feel better,” You pressed a kiss on his forehead, cupping his face. “Please, bella…” He begged, already melting to your touch and kisses.

“I got you,” You whispered. “But you'll have to behave for me, okay?” You had to remind him that you're the one in charge now. “Yes, yes, I will,” He nodded, eagerly looking at you. “Good. C'mon now…” You trailed off, tugging on his pants for him to take them off.

Santino understood and stripped down, tossing his pants to the side. He was already half hard and all you did was kiss him. “Please,” he whispered, getting more impatient and needy. “Touch me, please…” Good, he was begging even without you reminding him to do so.

“Ah, you're so needy already,” You said, rubbing his dick, watching him as he leaned against the pillows. He sighed in pleasure and smiled tiredy at you.

You couldn't resist him like this, before anything, you leaned over to kiss him while still rubbing him. He got hard quickly like this, with you kissing him and both moaning into each other's mouths while you still rubbed him, he could finish even like this.

“Mm… bella…” He moaned quietly, breaking the kiss. “Fuck…” he was getting desperate, and you loved how flustered he was. You chuckled quietly and lowered your to take him. He gasped softly when he felt your hot mouth around him.

“F-fuck… mmh…” He whimpered, looking down at you how you licked his tip before swallowing him whole again. That was always enough to make him moan and whine.

You felt his fingers going through your hair, how he gripped slightly tighter when you pulled all the way to his tip. “You're so good for me,” He praised, another whimper escaping him. You gave him a little smirk as you heard his little noises while you sucked him.

“You're so cute like this. So fucking needy,” You teased him, rubbing his slicked dick. You enjoyed watching his reactions, hearing his noises, it definitely made you wet in your panties.

“You think that's enough? I don't want you to come yet,” You stopped touching, he had enough of that. “Just a little more, please,” Santino begged needily, but you know what you're doing. “No, you'll get what you want now. Just get on your knees and bend over, okay? Just like we did before,” You instructed, and gave him enough space for him to get into the position while you took off your shirt.

You only had your dark black bra and panties on, and Santino really wanted to look at you. But damn, he’s fucking horny, and he needs this right now.

First you gotta give him a prep of course. “Just relax for me, baby,” You said as you lubed your fingers. “I need you so bad, please- unnh fuck!” He was cut off when you pushed your two fingers in, soothing him gently. “I know, I know, I got you.”

Sometimes he would give himself a prep, but sometimes you want to do it for him and he loves it. “Aw, you're so tight,” You smirked, thrusting your fingers in and halfway out. He felt so tight around your fingers and it was a bit difficult to push them in.

“Mmh- it's so good, bella, I love it- fuck…” He could barely talk from his moans and whimpers escaping him. Your fingers inside him always felt so good. Few times that was enough to make him come.

“I know how much you love my fingers in you, sweetie. You always take me so well, no matter how tight you are,” You chuckled softly, caressing his back with your other hand to feel him tremble.

Santino whimpered and gripped onto the sheets, feeling your fingers brushing inside him, pressing against his sweet spot. He slightly leaned back to your fingers, trying to get them even deeper.

“Patience, baby. You said you'll behave for me, remember?” You teased, giving him a little spank on his ass. “Y-yes, yes I know… please fuck me…” He begged, gasping shakily when curled up your fingers. “Ooh please…” He moaned and bowed his head. He was already so overwhelmed.

“Fuck, you're so good at begging… you have no idea how wet you made me just from that. Good boy,” You praised and could feel that he did relax more and was taking you easily now.

“D-did I do good?” He asked innocently and looked over his shoulder. “For a start, yes. Now you'll get what you want, you deserve it.”

He does deserve it after everything. And he's just such a good boy.

You chose the dildo you bought specifically for his birthday. It's fucking big and thick with some veins over it for the better feeling. Last time, it made him literally cry from pleasure.

You got yourself ready, having the strap on, lube is ready as well. Santino is shaking just from seeing the dildo. He rubbed himself while waiting for you, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

Before anything, you gently caressed his face and pressed a kiss on his lips. “You're so good for me. Working all week till late at night and you still want to do this. You deserve a reward,” You said softly, watching how he blushed and his breathing got shaky.

“Anything for you, I told you, bella, I'll do anything,” He shivered when you kissed his neck to tease him some more. “Good. I'm very proud of you,” You smirked at him.

You lubed the dildo and pressed the tip against his hole. “Ah- fuck… please just…” Santino gasped, so eager for you to just push it inside him already. “It's a big stretch. You sure you're ready to take it?” You knew he was ready, but you still wanted to tease him a little.

“Yes, I'm ready. Please do it, I'll be good, I promise,” He begged, looking over at you. Since he begs so nicely, you gotta give it to him. “Alright, just take a deep breath for me,” You said, holding the dildo to push It in.

Santino took a deep breath in and exhaled shakily when you started pushing in. “There you go, just relax,” You soothed gently, holding his hips. “Fuck! Mmmh- yes, yes just go all the way in…” He whimpered and gripped the sheets as you went all in.

It's a big dildo but he takes it so easily. “Oh, you took it so good, baby. Very good,” You praised, knelt behind him and pulling his hips slightly closer to you so you get deeper.

You started thrusting, slowly at first so he gets used to it. He was already moaning, biting his lower lip to try and silence himself. He was aware that you just started and he is already moaning like a slut.

“You missed this, huh?” You asked and chuckled when he whined in response, trying to spread his legs a little more for you. “Being stuffed with this big dildo. Maybe one day I could find you a bigger one.”

Fuck, he'd love that. He’d love to use it while you fuck yourself with your own toys. Yeah, you two have… toys that you use together sometimes.

“F-faster… faster, please!” He moaned needily, slightly arching his back for a show. You chuckled but gave it to him. Fucking him faster as you leaned over and kissed the back of his neck. “I got you,” You murmured against his neck.

He whined, gripping on the sheets tighter as you brushed perfectly against his sweet spot. When you got him crying out, you just kept fucking him in that rhythm and at that spot.

“Cazzo! Per favore, bella!” He was moaning in Italian, which meant he was getting lost in pleasure. That was so hot, every time he does that it makes you hornier.

You leaned back, only to grip his hair and pin him down against the pillow. “Fuck, just keep moaning like that for me,” You smirked to yourself, having him in this position was always more exciting.

His noises were muffled by the pillow, sounding like he was crying and it wouldn't even be the first time he was crying because of how overwhelmed he is. He wanted to touch himself, his hard dick was already pulsing and just needed to be touched immediately.

So, he tried to reach underneath himself. “Eager, hm?” You teased as you noticed. “I-I need…” He moaned into the pillow. You thought about whether you should let him. “Think you deserve it?” You asked, and spanked his ass, making him yelp. He loves that, it really gets him going.

“Y-yes, yes…” You could hear him murmur into the pillow. He does deserve it, he's been so good for you. “Alright, you can touch yourself, baby. But not for long.” You're not gonna let him have his way for too long.

Santino finally started touching himself, fuck, he was already leaking some precum and he could feel it on his fingers. “Fuck, yes, yes!” He moaned eagerly, whining as you gripped on his hair tighter and fucked into him more harder and deeper.

He was shaking, his free hand gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. And when you did few more harder thrusts, how the dildo fucked right into his sweet spot, that got him moaning loudly. “Right there… fuck, don't stop!” He whimpered and gasped when you tugged on his hair, pulling his head up from the pillow.

“Here?” You smirked and continued to fuck him at that spot that got him crying out. “Yes!” He moaned in response. “Stop touching yourself, now,” You pulled his arm away, and he whined in annoyance.

“I need it, bella, mmh- please,” He tried, he really wanted to touch himself, he was desperate. “You don't need it, baby. You can come just fine without that,” You said, letting go of his hair so he can be even more loud.

All that thrusting into him felt so nice that you could feel yourself getting close. And he was definitely close, he was overwhelmed.

“J-just keep doing that… mmhhh fuck, fuck, fuck…” You got what you wanted to hear. Him being completely lost in pleasure and moaning nonsense. You could hear him moan something in broken Italian as well. So cute.

“Are you close?” You teased, just wanting to hear him struggle to talk. “Yes… ooh fuck me!” Santino moaned and some whimpers escaped him. “You're gonna come for me, hm?”

Fuck, he will. You know he will. You're just playing with him now. “Cazzo! I- aah…” He wanted to answer but with your thrusting it was difficult to get words out. “C'mon, say it,” You teased, moaning quietly afterwards.

“Yes- fuck, just a little more… just…” He whimpered, few tears spilling down his cheeks. “Go on, come for me, sweetie,” You encouraged, gripping onto his hips more as you fucked him harder.

It took few more harder thrusts and he came with a loud moan, shaking through his orgasm as he spilled underneath himself. “Fuck, bella!” He cried out as you fucked through his climax, your own following. “That's right, baby… fuck…” You moaned softly, coming in your panties.

You both were out of breath, but he was really panting with some whines escaping him. You pulled out and he immediately switched to lay down on his back, his legs spread. “Good boy. You did so good,” You praised, taking the strap off to join him on the bed.

Santino was so flustered, blushing hard, forehead sweaty and still catching his breath. “Bella… that was amazing,” He panted, and you chuckled at him. “Yeah? I thought I got rusty a little.”

“No, no… you were incredible,” He kissed you, a lazy little peck on the lips because he was so exhausted. “We should do it more often, then. If you'd like,” You teased, going over his nipple with your finger. His breathing hitched a little, “Yeah, we should,” He agreed, smiling tiredly at you.

You kissed him more deeply and longer, hearing him moan softly into the kiss. “Whenever you'd want to do it, just tell me. I'll always give you what you want,” You smirked, going through his messy hair.

“Okay,” he breathed out. “I need a cigarette.”

One more thing, he usually smokes after sex, but it seems like he'd like do it in the bedroom now.

“Here? In the bedroom? Didn't we say that you won't smoke here?” You asked. “Yes, but my legs hurt… please, can I just have one here? I promise I'll open up windows and spray perfume.”

Fuck. He is giving you that puppy look again. Especially how fucked out and exhausted he looks now. You can't really say no to him.

You sighed and gave him the permission. “Since you were so good… okay. You're so damn cute.” You couldn't resist him like this, you had to kiss him again.

“Thank you, bella,” He smiled softly, finally being able to light up the cigarette. You actually like when he blows smoke into your face. You just hate when your whole bedroom smells like cigarettes for a week.

“I love you, you're so good for me,” Santino murmured and kissed you. You could taste the smoke, and you loved it. Maybe it was still the adrenaline from fucking but it felt nice.

“I love you, too, baby.”

[of-tatooine]

DULCE PERICULUM. | CHAPTER VI - CLEAR

supremest wisdom, and primeval love.

(John Wick x Reader, Santino d'Antonio x Reader)

full work

This was the place.

It must have been. It existed in your memories, the forgotten crumbs of moments laying bare right in front of you.

Through the tinted windows of the backseat in the armored vehicle, an extension of Camorra’s constant protection over you - your eyes staggered momentarily on the grand 18th century wooden doors, encrusted in the brick and stone that stretched for floors upwards.

Hidden in plain sight. Evil, crime and all that was unholy, being led by the seemingly normal, historic building. Did the ordinary pedestrians, many who walked near or across the stronghold every single hour, have the slightest idea of what was transpiring inside? The extent of detail flowing through plans to spill yet more blood or to transport even more drugs? The bourbon and whiskey consumed by men after an operation that paid well?

Would they change their morning commute had they known?

With the amount of corruption running rampant in the city that never slept - people would always go out of their way to blissfully ignore.

It was not much different back in il Bel Paese, and you would be damned to be a hypocrite as a pin of the underworld yourself. Camorra’s limbs extending all over the crevices, stones and doors adorning the narrow streets of Napoli - yet, people still drank on the streets, chanting the songs of their victorious football team, melodies leaving their way into hurled curses on some nights. Almost every restaurant in the town owed something to a Camorra boss somewhere, with money flowing into eventually the lifestyle that you led, but did not ask for. Yet - people still frequented the establishments, ordering the finest the fair city had to offer.

And, to think, this was only where it began.

It often hurt to think just how vast and interconnected this web was, jumping from city to city, port to port. Just how many souls were involved. The notion of Camorra almost seemingly incorporated into real life itself - becoming one with the city, with the population, with the beliefs and the traditions.

It was embedded in the pavement stones of Roma, in the bronze of the angels that protected the holy land. Gleaming in the intricate cuts of pink and green marble adorning il Duomo, ever withstanding centuries. Etched onto the mosaics in their lazy trail across cliffs, into the deep, turquoise eternity.

A sentient presence among all corners of the country, blurring the lines of morality wherever it touched in the outside world.

Until it bled the people dry.

Until men were beaten to a pulp in the dimly-lit back alleys on a cold winter night, limping to get home till morning come - because the count had not been right. Until bullets started whizzing in the air upon a missing kilogram. Until an innocent died at a road ambush in the countryside.

For you, it had not taken years to grow accustomed to the ruthless truth of the source of your estate, the grandeur. Of your place in the world.

It was all you knew, your only version of reality, from the moment you gained consciousness.

Was it rightful? Earned? All you had to do was to be born into it, into the right family with the right connections. At least that was what the Camorra told you, when they took you under their wing.

Sometimes, in this life, there are choices.

Sometimes, they have already been made for you.

Everyone in the underworld was tied to each other by an invisible thread, that would get pulled on or snipped off sooner or later.

Tarasov had been no different. It was the same, when it came to members of the mob, they were all the same - except they were Russians.

Direct, straight to the point. In times, even more ruthless than what your clan could become. A little too reckless at times, yet devout to tradition. To the century-old ways of living and letting die.

Like every crime lord you had the luxury of being in their vicinity in this lifetime - they always got what they wanted, one day or another, late or early.

As the car stalled in the empty space, the chauffeur respectfully waiting - you would take out your phone, nimble fingers typing a quick sono qui to the one who waited for you back at home.

I have made it.

He had briefly mentioned plans to take a couple of days to travel to Piacenza, to his father’s estate, where he resided with the looming sickness, far out in the countryside with an army of doctors and guards. Time had not been on his side, and would never be at his age. As much as Santino wished health on his father - decay was the one thing he could not change, even with all the power and funds he had. It could not be stopped.

Time.

It either healed you, or it broke you down.

“Grazie, amore,” came his fast text momentarily, making your lips curl upwards in a moment of courage.

“Buona fortuna.”

Packing up your tote and thanking your driver, the suited guard on the passenger seat exited quickly to help you down the backseat of the tall SUV. Clicking heels across the concrete took you to the doors, guards giving you a quick once over and opening the gates to the dark, moody entrance covered in the deepest mahogany paneling.

The door closed right behind you in a fleeting moment.

“Welcome to New York,” your escort that appeared out of the shadows would speak in a heavy Russian accent, earning a nod from you. “Viggo had been waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” you responded, walking through dimly lit halls leading up to an elevator. The seemingly short ride up would take you to the top floor, exiting out in a grand foyer with windows overlooking the silhouette of the city, filling in the moody room with slivers of natural light behind crimson velvet curtains. The distant crackling sound of a fireplace echoing in the tall ceilings. Finest examples of taxonomy glared at you from the walnut-paneled walls, doors opening up to you as a known voice welcomed you in. The guard staying right outside, clicking the door shut - sealing you in for the job.

You had been here before, but not like this. Everything felt so familiar, yet so alien. The passing months and years seemed to long, yet it was closer than you recalled. The days had flown by, memories fresh yet forgotten, human beings being lost in the cacophony of everyday life.

The dreams, however, did not cease to remind you from time to time.

Dreams that took place in this very room, a fleeting moment in time, etched onto unknown corners.

Where you had met him.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you in our fine city,”  the older Tarasov spoke in the deep accent, slowly getting up from his vast mahogany desk, polished shoes tapping against the hardwood as he took your outstretched hand to press a fleeting kiss on your knuckles in greeting.

“Thank you for having me,” you offered with a respectful smile as you unbuttoned the coat with a single hand, gesturing the armchairs sprawled across the burning fireplace, the center of his office. “May I?”

“Please. Coffee?” he asked, as he walked to his perfectly stocked personal bar that was places as yet another center of attention, dark walnut and black marble blending in seamlessly, contrasting the bright bottles and glasses.

“Or better yet, as is tradition - some vodka?”

“Grazie,” you would politely declined, even though you knew the jetlag would get the worst of you by the evening as you took your coat off with habitual ease, draping it across the armrest and sat with your legs crossed, waiting on the mob boss to join you for the long-awaited chat.

Business. That was what you were there for. The atmosphere was eerie, in the early lights of the quiet and calm morning, with Viggo pouring a small drink for himself as the glasses clinked. It was always unsettling and intimidating to get into the conversation - after all, with men this powerful, all bets could be off the table. Unpredictability came with the occupation most of the time.

Your eyes would trail to the tall windows, lazily letting in sunlight - now partially covered in thick, velvet curtains. Unobstructed views that many could only wish for.

That had been where he stood as you had stormed in the room, one of the times where the anger had manifested externally.

With his hands in his pockets, deep in thought, his hair slicked back in what you would discover to be his signature style. His dark stare catching you by surprise from the first time your eyes met, it did not matter if it had been a millisecond.

The first time you saw the man behind the rumors, in flesh, in this very room, mere years ago - the details of the snapshot of a moment carved in stone.

There had been no curtains back then.

A man of fine taste, Viggo tended to change things up every once in a while. The furniture had changed, no expense spared - yet the comfort was there. As comfortable as you could get with a mob boss who had districts under his thumb, that was. Your body straightened itself as Viggo took a seat in front of you, setting his crystal glass on the nearby drink table. He had donned a thick gray suit to combat the icy New York cold that morning, complete with a red shirt and burgundy tie tucked into his three piece.

His presence could be felt, just as much as his style and décor choices, as he spoke, albeit his voice was of a leisurely nature.

“Before business, let us be friends,” he offered with a slight smile. “Tell me, how’s life been on your side of the world?”

“As you know - business as usual,” you would start, as old-fashioned as you could be sometimes, taking out a small notebook from your purse. “Trying to help a friend out.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” he nodded, taking a sip of the drink. “I gathered you are here to ask something of me. Must be very important if it had you travel all the way over here.” Tarasov leaned back, sitting comfortably with the glass resting in his hand.

By that point, you had understood the sarcasm slightly laced in his voice, yet you had a feeling it was not targeted at you necessarily - but for what you stood for.

He believed your efforts were futile, a hint of a smirk stretching his lips.

He believed it could not be done.

“Santino requested I help with the fulfillment of task. I need names, Viggo,” you spoke, clear, articulate yet soft, looking to meet his eyes.

“And your word to honor what you promised John.”

The man first looked amused, letting his drink rest on the coffee table, learning towards you. “Now, why would you think I would not?”

“Just covering my bases this time.”

“I am a man of my word,” he added, voice lower, his jaw clenching slightly. “I suggest you do not pry that further.”

The air in the room tightened.

“Absolutely,” you replied with a knowing yet kind smile.

It did not make sense to ever anger a Russian mob boss.

Much to your slight surprise, the man offered a light chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “I will give you whatever information I have - not that I have much,” he would concede without much of a fight required.

“But, just so we are clear,” he would start, elbows on knees as his icy stare got closer to yours, “ - there is a reason this is called an impossible task.”

“It simply cannot be done.”

Another crackle of the burning wood would echo across the wood paneling, the orange flames illuminating the side of your face, lips tilted upwards as you opened up your small notebook, looking through your lashes as the words flowed.

“Let’s see what we can do, Mr. Tarasov.”

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Santino in this because it could go well with his eyes :]

Again, getting ready to see John

I made this one into a short drabble ^_^ I remembered something you wrote once about Santino liking the beach and John liking the forest!

Santino fidgets with his tie on the drive to pick up John. He knows he's overdressed. They're going for a walk in the forest, and then a picnic. But part of him hopes that if he's wearing something nice, it will deter John from going down any rough trails or staying out too long among all the bugs and thorns. They can just pick a quiet spot to sit down and eat, and besides, this color will go well with the last of the summer greenery. And then there's the other reason he's so dressed up: he wants to impress John, as always. Santino exhales shakily and tries to focus on the scenery going by outside the window. Why is he so nervous? They've been dating for a while now - surely he should know that John likes him.

Sometimes it seems like John doesn't notice when Santino dresses up - after all, he dresses up almost every day. But then, without fail, he'll kiss his cheek and say, "You look beautiful," and all of Santino's nerves will go calm.

On other days (and today is one of those days), it's obvious right away that John notices all the effort he put in. As soon as he opens the door, John blushes. He can't stop looking between Santino's chest and his eyes. "You look..."

"Not right for the occasion, I know." But he's just fishing for praise at this point.

"...breathtaking." Today, the kiss is on the lips, and all Santino's nerves flutter wildly and then go perfectly still.

[mrssimply]

Santino topping John WOWOWOW

How often does it happen? And how does Santino get John into that mood? Or does John kinda want it just because he feels like it? :3

An interesting question I asked myself more or less recently (I made a mention of Santino topping John in The Burning of Rome, as you know ;)).

Here is how I see it: first, I have to say it's rare for me to write couples that don't switch position. That's clearly due to my own experience, but I know some people prefer one or the other, and Santino clearly has a preference for bottoming in my head.

So I would answer it like this: it's not John who needs to be in the mood, it's Santino.

John is by default in the mood for everything his partner(s) might want, be it Helen, Caine, Koji (yes, thanks to Koda, it's now a HC they had a little polycule back in their youth) or of course, Santino. His own desire often takes a backseat to the desire of his parner(s): nothing gets him off harder than giving pleasure, or responding to his partner(s)' want.

I think we also have to separate top/bottom from dominant/submissive, or from driving/following. In my head, John is a follower. He's not a leader in anyway, and if he happens to create movement around him, it's accidental, or collateral, nearly never conscious. I always loved how... surprised he was by the consequences of his actions (Him refusing to honor the Marker => Santino blowing his house up, then later of course being excomunicado, later again having the whole High Table on his ass and he's like "I've never asked for any of this" and I'm like "John, my man, did you stop for one second to think about the chain of events you were setting into motion?". Many characters tell him variations of that: Winston, Koji, the Elders, Gianna...). In a way, he's very passive in his own narrative: his thought process is very forward and simple (that doesn't mean he isn't intelligent, it means he doesn't care about complexities and the big picture). In that way, I feel like he's very "in the moment" and very attuned to what people feel, even if he often lacks the words to express it.

So back to sex: John responds to the desire of his partner first and foremost in my head. So he's basically always potentially in the mood to top or bottom, it doesn't depend on him, it depends on his partner a lot. That doesn't mean he can't have wants and desires of his own, but to me he's very attuned to the mood of his potential partners, and even unconsciously he'll give them what they want.

It also means that to me, he's more submissive than dominant, but then again, if his partner requires dominance, he'll do it in a heartbeat, and he'll like it.

Santino, on the other hand, is a pillow princess, and a brat. He loves to be whorshipped and conquered, you gotta earn the right to put your hands on him, it's a privilege and he intends for his partner(s) understand that very clearly before he let them kiss his toes.

He will take on a more active and leading role because he loves to test his partners. It's really a way for him to ensure they're worthy of him. Of course he's a control freak, letting go is the ultimate gift he can offer to a partner, but they need to work for it painstakingly. Every game he plays with John in my fics is just him being a scared little boy in need of reassurance. Being pampered, held, and taken is how he feels safe and loved, even if it hurts.

He also understands perfectly how receiving can mean being on top: the control it gives him, the way he can use his body as a weapon of submission. To him, it's not a matter of position, it's a matter of controling the mindset of his partner, and hiding behind a screen.

And finally, I'll answer the question: it doesn't happen often because to him, topping is giving. It's putting the need and desire of his partner first, and not his own, it's taking care, and not being taken care of (again, it's how I think he views it, it's in no way an absolute truth). For the mood to strike he would have to be in a very safe place, with a partner he trusts entierly, in a moment he feels confident enough and good enough to give. A moment where the bottomless pit of want that exists by his heart is somewhat filled. A fragment of time where he has enough selflove to pass an opportunity to receive the devotion he expects of his partners, and for once, to give some of that devotion to his lovers.

And that is very rare.

ALRIGHT, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, I'll gladly take more questions if you're ready to read entire essays that probably lack cohesion but whatever, I'll stand my ground xD.

Thank you so much for the ask, this was really fun!

[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.”

[johnwickcaretaker]

💙🖤 John Wick x Santino D'Antonio Ship Overview/Analysis 🖤💙

I did this for Santino and Michael in my crossover stuff and now I want to do this for Santino and John as well!!

So, why are they so compelling?

Canon divergence AUs for this ship are full of possibilities because we have so many moments in the timeline to choose from. They knew each other in the early days of John's work, but that is left completely open-ended so it's very fun to explore that time period. What if they never split up? And if they did split up, then they had some period of Santino presumably pining for John after the Impossible Task (angst!!) and then they were reunited. It's easy to imagine a world in which that reunion went differently and one of them showed the other a lot more compassion - what if Santino hadn't betrayed John? What if Santino had thrown away his marker as a sacrifice to show John how much he loves him? What if John had ACTUALLY refused to kill Gianna, even after his house was blown up? What if John had forgiven Santino instead of shooting him? I haven't written all of these possibilities yet because there are just so many.

Although a lot of people assume that they're toxic with one another (continuously fighting, stalking, taking revenge on each other, etc.), they can also be written as an exploration of anger management and conflict resolution in a way that's very sweet. John's careful emotional control and devotion allows him to be patient with Santino and make him feel safe enough to express his pain through means other than violence. Santino's stubbornness can be put towards a determination not to hurt or control John. They demonstrate a seemingly miraculous victory of love over possessive rage - but a victory which is actually won through a lot of hard work and emotional growth.

Their sexual dynamic is SO HOT. Messy brat constantly teases stoic dom. Need I say more? No, but I will. It's not just that Santino is teasing John, it's that he feels safe enough to tease John. He wants to know 1 - that John is strong enough to put him in his place, and to just feel and enjoy John' power. And 2 - that John actually going to be gentle and forgiving with him no matter what he does. He watches John shove him around, manhandle him, do kinky stuff with him...but never actually traumatize him the way that he was traumatized growing up, no matter how much Santino annoys him. It's this constant proof that he is loved.

And then the hurt/comfort dynamic!!! Santino keeps poking at John there too. He ignores his health, he pushes himself to the limit, he gets into reckless situations. It's like he's constantly asking John, "Do I even matter? Do I even deserve to be saved?" And John is constantly stepping in, saying, "Yes, you do." I adore this even more when John gives him long-term solutions - things he can do instead of self-harming, routines that help him fix his sleep schedule, help getting off of his addictions.

And how about John's role in all this? He sees himself express tenderness. He sees that he is capable of that. He learns that he is capable of patience, that he is not just a killer. Every time Santino pushes him and he doesn't push back, every time that they playfight and it doesn't turn to real fighting, John begins to trust himself slightly more. And when Santino expresses concern for him, and turns his own caretaking back on John, John has to learn to value his own life as well.

So Santino and John both slow heal. A beautiful recovery arc is at the core of the John x Santino ship and I love that for them.

[kimhargreeves]

Love is War-Caine x Reader (John Wick Chapter 4)

Summary: You've remained a friend to John Wick throughout years, that hasn't changed since he's been excommunicado. Now finding you in Osaka and a few more allies he asks for your help again, which leads you to reunite with an old friend.

(Watched John Wick 4 a few days ago and I am surprised no one has written on this character! Donnie Yen is such a badass playing blind characters. So I wrote this myself. Sorry in advance since I suck at writing a fighting scene, and because this is short.)

The day Santino D'Antonio was shot was officially the day John Wick's life changed. The man had to rest, looking over his shoulders every second to be aware of anyone trying to kill him. The people who continued to remain by his side would be punished.

I was one of them when The High Table came over to my place. They punished me well but I embraced the pain and moved on with my life, and so I went to Japan.

Continuing with my work and wanting to be far from my previous life in the United States.

"Shimazu, my friend. This sushi is delicious as always!" I smiled looking at the tall man.

The man smiled a little and poured some sake for himself. "I believe you've had enough drinks for the night, (Y/N)."

I pouted at the man, he's asking like such a dad. I've known the man for years and met him way back along with his daughter, both of them welcomed me with open arms when I arrived. In exchange for their help I would offer my help and the yakuza.

I exchanged my guns for a katana.

"The night is still young. Besides, I want a bit of fun, the other night I almost got my ass beaten if it weren't for your men arriving."

"Still reckless as ever. I have someone you might want to see." I hummed looking at the man and I heard light footsteps.

I rose from my spot suddenly sobering myself up when I saw another man with us. It was none other than John Wick. "…J-John."

We saw John standing by a cherry blossom tree close to us.

I know it wasn't the time but I did the first thing that came to my mind, which was to hug him tight. I always considered John as an older brother, so seeing him back again was so refreshing. I felt his hand on my back patting me. I looked up at him and smiled.

Shimazu had a straight face when he looked at John Wick. I decided to stay silent but remained by John's side as I heard both men exchange words, Shimazu agreed on helping John, as soon as he did his daughter came by.

She warned us about a group about to Osaka's continental. We looked at John and told him to hide himself while we went out to fight. I grabbed my katana and followed Shimazu closely and started to walk further into the hotel. I watched more of his men grabbing their weapons and getting ready.

We see people hurriedly leaving the hotel after Akira told everyone to evacuate. I remain to Shimazu's side when we come face to face with a man I wasn't expecting to see. Caine.

I felt my body freeze when I saw him standing by the enemy.

Sharp as ever I see. He's wearing a suit and as usual with his cane guiding him. It's been a while since he gave his vision up, that's the consequences for working in this profession.

He is an old friend of John and I. So, he's leading a group of men then, the men working to the Marquis. I stay silent listening to both me exchange words. I glanced around when I saw men pointing their bow and arrows at the enemy.

"John Wick isn't here. So, as my master said give your weapons up." I declared glaring at the group in front of us.

I noticed Caine had tilted his head a bit. He wasn't expecting me to be here. It has been quite a while since we last saw each other.

Despite the warnings, a quick fight ensued when the enemy refused to give their weapons up, since they were determined to find John Wick in the hotel. I raised my katana and quickly slashed down one of the men, quickly I ran forward to attack another one and was able to penetrate the blade through two men in suits.

I harshly pulled the blade back and wiped the blood with my sleeve and I saw Shimazu give me a sign to follow a group of men who entered further into the hotel to look for John. I ran faster and began to avoid being shot and kicked the gun away from a man's hand when he was ready to shoot me.

I raised my leg up and kicked the man's head down and quickly turn around when I heard another one rushing towards me. I easily slashed the man's throat and watched him fall to the bloody floor.

"Have to hurry over to John and get him out of here." I ran faster through the empty halls and made it to the glass room where every antique is displayed.

As soon as I arrived I saw men on the floor and I huffed sliding down the floor and I froze my movements when I saw Caine was in the room. I have to be very quiet. I looked over my shoulder and saw John was hidden nearby.

Quietly I began to stand up and tried not to step on the shards of glass. "There's no use in hiding, (Y/N). Why are you helping a man like John Wick?" Caine spoke knowing I was in the room but not knowing where exactly.

"And why are you working against us?" I spoke seeing Caine standing still and looking at my direction.

"They'll harm my daughter if I don't do this. If it were between You and John and my daughter. I would choose my daughter. You won't be getting in my way."

"Wasn't planning on your trying to stop me. Last time I checked I bear your ass on a fight, you quite liked being under me." I tease standing up straight and raising my katana.

I saw John giving me an odd look but quietly began to crawl over to a gun. I gave him a nod while he continued.

Caine and I rushed over to one another and I huffed dodging his attacks and falling back when he almost hit me. I'll try my best not to slice him up, I'll only hit him with the side of my katana.

"Hmph!" The sound of my katana hit against his cane made a loud sound and I had to grab my weapon with both hands when I began to lose a bit of strength when my hands began to shake. I yelled and tried to kick him back but he was quicker and he hit my stomach hard and made me fall back to the floor.

I let out a cry when I felt glass enter my skin. "You always liked to talk a lot, but I was the one who did most of the action." I blushed when I saw a stupid smirk across his face.

I moved my legs and did my best to make him fall but he easily dodged my moves and hit my leg with his cane making me hiss and he stepped over to stand over my chest and pressed his shoe against me.

A loud movement was heard behind us and we heard John loading up his gun, Cane quickly took his out and both began to try and shoot each other. I struggled to breathe and before I had the chance to strike him again he grabbed me making stand up as he held me close.

"I would suggest you stop this, John. You would want me to harm her would you?"

I angrily looked back at Cain. "You bastard. How dare you use me as a human shield?!" I ask unimpressed with his work.

Caine only fell silent when I asked him and saw a annoyed expression on his face.

"And after everything we had?" I laugh bitterly which wasn't a good thing since he tossed me aside, I tripped over my own feet and ending up falling on one of the art glass in the room.

I groaned trying to stand up and tried to ignore the shards of glass on my palms. I continued to hear John and Caine trying to shoot each other and fight.

"I know our line of work is dangerous, but what kind of a sick bastard with threaten you with that?!" I shout at him.

I find it hard to imagine how he must have felt to have his little girl at risk. His daughter is so hard studying intelligent girl, I had the pleasure of knowing her many times before, I've known the girl ever since she was born, helped Caine in raising her in a way when his wife passed away.

It was her or her daughter. The bright and nice woman chose to give her daughter life. Caine was distraught and needed some peace, so that's when I took action and offered to help him raise his girl.

Both men continued to fight and John was the first one out. I watched him run out of the room so the people here in Osaka wouldn't be harmed because of him. I started to chase after him but I felt a hand hold onto arm tightly before I had the chance to leave.

I looked back and looked at Caine. I couldn't quite read his expression but behind those dark glasses he seemed worried. "They know what happened… They threatened my daughter, myself and you as well. If I don't kill them they will kill us..they are going to kill you too."

He wasn't harming me. His grip on me loosened up and I didn't do anything to provoke him. My expression turned to sadness, why must something always happen to us.

I huff trying to laugh, "I'm flattered to know that you still care about me.", He continued to frown. He was always a serious type, especially with work.

"What if we were to work together? We can stop this and kill the man-"

"That won't do, haven't I made myself clear?!" He said raising his voice.

Caine remained now silent until he let go of me and I saw a smirk across his face again. "I see you haven't changed.."

I fought back at laughing at him for saying that. "No matter what happens, I'll continue to worry about you. Hand me over John Wick and this will all be over."

"I'm sorry but I can't. I promised from the start that my loyalty to him would remain." I slowly started to back away now afraid if Caine would harm me because of my answer.

My loyalty to John Wick.

Too afraid to stick around I turned around and quickly began to follow to where I saw John run off. I was all bloodied up and hurt but I continued to run and made it at the train station. And got inside when I noticed John sitting by himself. I smiled when I saw the man also bloodied up and bruised.

I sat right by his side and we continued to not say anything on what happened back there. I felt extremely tired and so was John, I glanced over to him when I felt his stare on me.

"Did you seriously date him?" John asked after a moment of silence, out of everything that happened that's the first thing he asks??

I sighed leaning back on the seat and crossed my arms over my chest, "Was that such a big surprise for you? I thought it would be obvious, at the amount of times the three of us would reunite."

John must've not remembered of the time we invited him over for dinner but he decided to stay with Helen instead. I didn't blame him.

"Sorry. I just didn't expect the reveal." He muttered holding onto his injured shoulder. I glanced back at him and smiled.

I'll continue to fight by his side, but this'll all be a mess later on. We have to figure this one out and take revenge for those who have tried to kill John. I don't want any of this to happen, but I swear if someone were to harm him, Caine or his daughter, I'll be the person to kill the Marquis even if it means that I could die trying.

[s1eep-o]

savior; chapter three.

warnings: violence, drinking, ??? (lmk if there is more)

pairing: bodyguardd!john wick x mafiadaughter!oc

(found this nice photo of keanu on pinterest and decided to add it)

i awoke in a feeling of soft blankets and the sounds of rain hitting the window along with the distant boom of thunder. sitting up in my bed i look up at the clock and notice that its already noon, outside the window it is dark and gloomy. i heard light footsteps down the hall and as it neared my door it came to a stop, ''ms. romano? are you awake?'' maria calls out. i walk towards the door and open it, ''hey maria'' i say to the small lady with a smile. ''your father and mr.wick are waiting for you downstairs.'' she replies. ''i'll be down in a second.''

walking through the corridor and into the dining room i notice another man sitting with john and my father, ''arabella darling, it is good to see you up and well.'' father says standing up and walking over to give a hug, ''thank you dad, who is this?'' i ask letting go of my father and gesturing to the man sitting across from john. ''a business associate, meet santino d'antonio!'' he looked up at me and gave a small smile that i kindly returned. ''it is a pleasure to meet you, mr. d'antonio.'' i greet as a take a seat next to john noticing the small glance he gave. “actually i’m going to head to the kitchen to get a drink, would you guys like anything?” i ask standing from my chair “no thank you.” santino replied along with a shake of the head from dad. “i’ll go with you.” john speaks up as he stands from his chair as well.

“who is that?” i ask as we finally reach the kitchen. “he is a dangerous man arabella, that’s what i know.” he says taking a seat at one of the stools at the island. i take a seat next to him and hand him a mug of coffee, black of course. “so.. i’m sorry you had to see me like that.” i mutter looking away. “it’s okay, i understand.” he replies, sipping on his coffee. did i hear that correctly? the babayaga understands what i am going through? there’s a first for everything i guess.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“so what’s the plan for today?” i ask, “i think your father wants you to attend santinos party with him tonight.” he replies, looking up from his book. “seriously. after what happened yesterday? that man has no sense.” i sigh, continuing to watch the movie on the tv from the comfort of my bed. i glanced back to john who was reading his book, wait- “is that little women you’re reading?” i giggle. he glares at me, “it’s a good book, alright?” he protested. “whatever you say babayaga.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“i know the party is very last minute, but santino insisted on us joining,” he uttered “it’s going to be a long drive so get comfortable.” i just nodded in response, shuffling around to get comfortable and shut my eyes.

“sweetie, wake up.” someone whispers as they softly shake me. “we're here hun.'' my dad says. i groan as i lift my head of johns shoulder and rub my eyes. the driver comes around and opens the door and i get out, ''wow, this place is nice.. '' i say as john walks to my side. ''it's some old manor, a family heirloom i think.'' he replies and i hum in response. we walk through the enterance and there are a lot of people, dancing, talking, eating, and just standing there. ''ah, i didn't think you guys would make it!'' santino spoke, ''come along now dear, i'm sure you're hungry after the long trip.'' he greets., handing me a drink.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

''do you want to go home?'' i hear from my stool at the bar where i was picking at my food with a hard buzz from the drinks i took. ''good lord, yes please!'' i plead as i look up at john. ''i can call someone to come pick us up.'' john commented. ''john, have i mentioned how good you look in that suit?'' i whisper, ''arabella it's the same suit i wear everyday.'' he replies before he takes his phone out and turns away to call someone to pick us up. i turn back to my drink when someone grabs my waist and covers my mouth, ''shh, he's on the phone. wouldn't want to interupt do we?'' the persons voice whispered in my ear. then it went black.

fluttering my eyes open i notice i'm in a bed, but it's not mine. ''john? dad?.. hello?'' i blurted out, oh my god.. this is too much what is happening.. ugh my head... i shouldn't have drank so much..i thought when i started to hear the door rattle and laid back and acted asleep, ''wake up'' the voice said sternly. i sat up in the bed shakily, with my eyes closed shut. wait. that voice.. then my eyes flew open ''santino?!'' i ask, shocked. how did i not recognize the voice last night? oh my... wheres john? will he come get me?? ''i know what you're thinking oh wheres my bodyguard he'll come save me! yeah, not happening princess.'' he mimicks in a high pitched voice followed by deep chuckles.

''why are you doing this santino..'' i ask shakily. ''sweetheart, do you have any idea what kind of business you are in?'' he asks ''it's all about the money.'' he laughs. god this man is evil. ''why me?'' i mutter. ''your father would do anything for you, meaning i just say a number and it's all mine!'' he grins, ''well call him! tell him to hurry and get me out of here.'' i strain, my head pounding. ''it's not going to be that easy. he must give up the babayaga as well.''

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

''where is she john?!'' he shouts. ''arturo- wait let me explain!'' john responds, ''no john, tell me where my daughter is!''he cried out. ''you have to believe me on this on mr.romano, santino has you dau-'' *ring ring* they both look at eachother, arturo goes to put it on speaker. *mr. romano! it is so good to talk to you. i have something to discuss with you, you see.. you have probably noticed young, sweet arabella isn't there to join you, that is because she is here with me! say hi to your papa bella!* he purred. *dad! please send john to get me this man is crazy!* she cries out followed by a slap *tsk tsk, you are making the wrong choices sweetheart! now arturo, i want you to send me the money, if you don't.. well i'll let you find out* he chuckles. *beep* ''oh my god....,'' arturo whispered ''johnathan, please. if it's the last thing you do.. save my daughter.''

authors note: i am so sorry for the long wait but it took me a while to firgure out what i wanted to do with this story, if anyone has any suggestions for the next chapter please let me know! there still may be some mistakes, hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, if you do feel free to reblog. have an amazing rest of you day/night. xoxo, s1eep-o.

[bluelolblue]

AHAH thank you for tagging me lmaoo

AHHH uhh okay lemme try HAHA

1. Not very popular but, Winston x anyone when it gets sexual. I personally just see Winston as this cool father figure of the JW universe lmao. Sure, if it's kinda romantic, more like fluff, fine, he deserves some happiness like that... but to write him getting freaky? Not my thing...

2. Crossovers with animes. I don't really understand how... that would work, but I guess whatever brings you joy, just that I'm not into that. Sometimes they get a bit weird, too...

3. How Santino doesn't get enough credit and a lot of ppl seem to even forget him. Yes, I'm a Santino fan, but I'd say he was one of the most interesting characters and he has a very good potential for future movies (that probably won't happen...). Actually, how D'Antonios are being kinda ignored. They have so much potential only for most of the fandom to just look the other way.

4. Anything with Iosef. If it's a fun fic or anything silly, no problem, but anything else... I don't like him. He was kinda funny yes, just that I hold a grudge against him because he killed Daisy. Killing a puppy and attacking John just because you wanted a car? Get out of here.

5. How some ppl take things in this fandom too seriously. John Wick is an action movie, let the writers and artists do their works in peace, it's not that serious. Especially for writers. Let us do our works in peace. Idgaf about your complaining about unnecessary stuff, go watch Mickey Mouse rather than this action movie if you don't have anything better to say.

Tagging @thewhumpcaretaker & @mrssimply if ya want to join AHAH

Tag game!!!

What are 5 popular headcannons/ships/aus/overall just common things in some fandoms that you don't agree with and why

Megumi being emo, he just never struck me as the emo type, more of a soft boy yknow (jjk)

Deku becoming a villain aus, honestly I just never saw the appeal. I watched the anime and decided that he wouldn't hurt anyone, nor could he. He's just such a soft boy (mha)

Nifty being the 'child' of the hazbin hotel cast, it just makes all of her 'bad boy' comments even worse. PLUS the bdsm thing so bad just from the fact that she was there in the first place (Hazbin hotel)

Homophobic Lute also pissed me off for some reason, I just never saw her as homophobic despite her 'homophobic' comment (which wasn't even towards Vaggie and Charlie for both being girls) (Hazbin hotel)

This is more of a general one but whenever I see trans (insert character) I get a bad feeling about the fic. Not because its a trans character but because theres about a 99% chance that its smut with the trans person playing their role of their 'assigned gender' (whatever the fuck that means) and it just makes me feel wrong inside. Like if you want to write f/m smut just do it with female and male characters. Stop just making them trans, at this point its a fetish

Tagging @purplelight @di-diwata @blaze-vibes-here @hannibalwritesstuff @evrensadwrn @dr4g0n3t @starbanmk

ive never started a tag game before so... i might be doing this wrong lol-

[fics-not-tragedies]

January 2024 Music Prompts: Day 12

I Can See You ♫ Taylor Swift

I Can See You ♫ Taylor Swift x Santino D'Antonio

But what would you do if I went to touch you now?/What would you do if they never found us out?/What would you do if we never made a sound?

Santino, a charismatic man with a mysterious aura that reverberated through the office corridors, became entangled in a secret romance with his colleague, you. The hum of the neon lights and the rhythm of the tapping keyboards formed the backdrop for your stolen glances and clandestine conversations.

One afternoon, when the office was in its usual chaos, you and Santino found yourselves alone in the break room. There was a tension in the air of unspoken desires, and the proximity of your shared space seemed to intensify the heartbeat of your connection.

Santino leaned against the counter with a playful gleam in his eye. "But what would you do if I touched you now?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that stirred the air between the two of you.

You, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of anticipation and hesitation, met his gaze. "What would you do if they never found us out?"

Your words, like a dance of possibilities, hung in the air - an unspoken agreement that lingered beneath the surface of your professional facades. The breakroom, usually a space for hurried lunches and casual small talk, became a clandestine meeting ground for the burgeoning romance that neither of you could deny.

Santino, with a confidence that bordered on audacity, closed the distance between you. His hand, warm and inviting, brushed against yours as he reached for a cup of coffee. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and your eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes.

"What would you do if we never made a sound?" Santino continued, his lips curving into a knowing smile.

You, caught in the magnetic pull of the moment, felt the walls of restraint crumbling around you both. The allure of the forbidden lingered in the air, a temptation that fueled the flames of your hidden desires.

As the days unfolded, Santino and you navigated the delicate dance of your workplace romance. The office became a theater of stolen glances, lingering touches, and shared secrets concealed behind the guise of professionalism. The unspoken understanding between you two heightened the thrill of your connection, like a covert operation conducted in plain sight.

During a late-night project, when the office was shrouded in silence, Santino and you found yourselves working alone. The glow of computer screens cast a soft illumination, creating an intimate atmosphere that seemed to invite the revelation of your concealed desires.

"But what would you do if I went to touch you now?" Santino whispered, his words a promise that hung in the air like a question mark.

You, your heart pounding, met his gaze with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. In that suspended moment, the boundary between professionalism and passion blurred, and the allure of what lay beneath the surface became impossible to ignore.

Santino, with a tender boldness, cupped your face in his hands. Your lips met in a quiet symphony of desire, a kiss that spoke of the suppressed emotions you had dared not acknowledge.

"What would you do if they never found us out?" Santino murmured against your lips, his voice a breathy confession.

You, caught in the throes of a passion that had long simmered beneath the surface, felt a sense of liberation. The weight of secrecy lifted, and the office, with its walls of restraint, became an arena for the unbridled exploration of your connection.

In the hushed stillness, as your kisses became a language of their own, Santino whispered, "What would you do if we never made a sound?"

Your workplace romance, once confined to stolen moments and concealed glances, became an open acknowledgment of the love that had blossomed amidst the hum of office machinery and the monotony of daily routines.

[bluelolblue]

Healing grace

Summary: Santino was hurt, and it brought him back to his childhood with how his father hurt him in a similar way. John helped Santino heal, of course.

Rating: Mature, hurt/comfort

Relationship: Santino D'Antonio/John Wick

Note: Okay, finally putting this on ao3! This was a prompt from @starkiller-queen , and it's also posted on tumblr right here. You can also read it there if you want to. Thank you so much <3

☆ SPECIAL THANKS TO @mrssimply ☆ for beta reading and helping!!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Snippet

“Let me see,” John insisted.

“Fuck… no! It'll pass,” Santino gritted through his teeth.

Broken ribs with potentially broken few fingers would not in fact just pass.

“Santino, don't be stubborn. I saw what they did to you, I killed them, you're really badly injured. Let me help you.”

John could be a pain in the ass sometimes, literally. They were both stubborn, just in their own way. He refused to show John his injuries in the car and now at home, too.

“I… listen, it used to pass on its own, so just leave me alone!” Santino wanted to storm off but John already caught him by his arm, which made Santino yelp in pain.

“That hurts!” Santino snapped.

“I’m sorry, but please let me see. I just want to help you. You know you're safe with me, right?”

Santino sighed in slight annoyance. He knew John wanted only the best for him, he was just really frustrated from the pain.

“I know,” Santino murmured, “It just hurts.”

John nodded, taking a hold of Santino's other hand, “I'll help you. You don't have to be in pain.”

Read the rest on ao3

[of-tatooine]

DULCE PERICULUM. | CHAPTER VII - WINE

before me nothing but things eternal, and eternal i endure.

(John Wick x Reader, Santino d'Antonio x Reader)

full work

With every other step taken, it became increasingly harder to ignore the fleeting feeling of anxiety within your body.

Left, right. Another left. Passing through the city streets as they pulsed with a life of their own. An accustomed rhythm in your footsteps echoing across the concrete, passing by each stranger.

The leather boots did a good job at keeping your feet comfortable on your short walking adventure, you prayed for Gianna once more again for the help in your outfit choices.

You had expected a challenge, yet not like this. Not to this extent.

It was not the body that complained this time - it was the mind and the thoughts running rampant within causing the annoyance, the ringing headache of overthinking. So much so that you had indicated your driver for the day to let you off a couple of blocks before you got to the destination, in hopes of the brisk winter air aiding in clearing out the doubts.

All it did was to make you shiver further.

It was impossible to hit them all at once.

The bastard knew it, as per his smug attitude throughout the morning. It was in the way he talked, not even holding back on any information - he knew there was no piece of it that would help you achieve this. He knew exactly what he was getting you all into. He knew he would never be truly free.

This is what you got for underestimating the Russian.

Tarasov had deliberately given Wick a task that even he could not complete, even with all of Camorra’s soldiers behind him for support. After all, why would he want his most precious assassin exonerated? To leave all of his talents on the table, without a guarantee of someone else, at some point in his life, poaching him?

Even though you knew John had nothing left to do with this brutal life of his - if it had come to the point of asking Camorra for help.

He must have really loved her. More than he ever thought of loving you.

You should have known that when you opened that door.

All the passing years, and you had managed to keep the events that led to you parting ways a secret to Santino - the details of them, at least. For someone who had an entire mob under his pinky finger, someone who was so meticulous to usually cover all of his tracks, yet he had not pried deeper into just how and when.

The importance of details had dissipated the moment he had seen your appalled face, hints of dried tears lingering at the edge of your eyes. No words came out of your mouth, they did not need to, as you had thrown yourself into his arms for the comfort of his presence, his warm body pressed against yours.

You had not told him much. You did not need to.

Santino was a man who valued their promise and he was not going to send whoever needed help astray.

What kind of man would he be, had he not accepted to help a man who was desperately clawing his way out to reach his one true love?

Santino had understood. After all, he was bound by the same fate. A fate that he so wished to be true that he was willing to live and let go.

However, you had to admit one truth - he may not have been fully cognizant of just what you all had stepped into, by the way the odds were looking.

Engulfed in your thoughts as your too short of a walk came to an end, with the sight of the entryway to the New York Continental appeared in its’ full grandeur - complete with a red carpet, the marble exterior stretching up in iconic architecture. A quiet architectural marvel hidden in plain sight in Lower Manhattan, a good fit for the affluent neighborhood.

A bit more subdued than the Continental you had been used to, but it would have to do the job.

The doors opened in a silent reveal, suddenly grateful for the central heating that made you feel cozy at an instant, your cheeks slightly red from the outside breeze. The expansive lobby greeted you, hints of light jazz echoing through the high-reaching marble columns, in contrast with the dark green furniture scattered across. The luxurious finishes of dim lighting, men and women on their best behavior lounging, waiting for a special other. Visiting the Continental always came with it’s surprises, as you would never fully discern just who had been involved in the New York underworld, with the hotel guests often a mix of civilians as well as people who were in the game.

Throughout your life, you had often wondered what it was like - to not have the slightest idea that the stranger calmly sitting next to you in the lobby had strangled a soul to death with their mere hands just hours prior. To be so disconnected, so ignorant yet not by choice.

Must be nice.

A hand digging through your purse for the small stash of coins, your fingers grasped one to hide it under your palm - up until the moment you approached the front desk, to a familiar face.

“Welcome back, miss,” Charon offered a stoic smile, his tone calm and collected as always, looking up from the typing that he had been finishing up.

“Business or pleasure?”

“I will not be staying, thank you,” you politely replied, happy to see a harmless, familiar face for a change that day. “I wanted to ask if the manager was in today at this hour.”

Charon gave a knowing look, his hand outstretching softly towards the marble staircase just towards his back left.

“The manager is always in.”

Moments later, you were two gold coins short yet a decadent drink stood between your fingertips.

A dry Chardonnay sparkled in your crystal glass, your fingers laying flat on the base in a subconscious haze, gently swirling the liquid. The candlelight on the marble table catching your eye, the flame almost hypnotizing as it shone in a golden hue on your features.

Situated in the corner booth, sultry red leather a contrast to your black suit - you had the overarching view through the speakeasy, a cacophony of the after-lunch rush of people chatting at the bar, green and red ambient lights mixing to create an air of secrecy.

Knowing the manager personally certainly had perks.

“I did not expect to see you here so soon,” Winston spoke, awakening your senses, sitting right across from you. He would raise the dirty martini he was holding in a small toast, you reciprocated the gesture momentarily.

“Are you complaining?”

“I would not dream of it,” he would answer after taking a much awaited sip of his first drink of the day. He had hoped it would not be a long one, yet he had always been proven wrong - with unruly guests, civilian troubles and potential rule breakers, the Continental could sometimes be a relentless tide of responsibilities.

However, you had been a breath of fresh air always, in any room you stepped in - even when Winston could see traces of unspoken troubles beneath the surface of your thoughts.

“I am at a loss, Winston. È impossibile.”

Looking through his glasses, one hand on the book that he had been captivated under before you stepped into the bar, his full attention diverted to you then.

“Did you tell Santino?”

It had been hard to gauge Winston’s feelings towards Santino at times, often finding him unnecessarily childish - but beneath it all, you knew he knew that Santino meant well. There was a certain splendor that came with having the power and wealth he had at a very young age - even he could not have denied that.

At least, Winston was confident that you were safe with him, at all times.

For him, nothing else came close in importance.

“I will, tonight, when I get to the apartment,” you clarified, taking another sip to savor. Upon the gold coin tip, it was no surprise that the bartender had treated you to one of the finest wine they must have had in stock.

“Viggo knew too. That bastardo knew just how to get under my skin - he knows what he is asking for cannot be done. Not with a million of my men.”

Winston nodded softly, not at all surprised at the mob boss playing tricks. It was a man’s world, where everything could be fair and permitted, surrounded with the right excuses.

However, this time - it was life or death for John, a man with, quite literally, no other way out without your plan succeeding.

And, of course, you had no plan. How could you? How could you gather two dozen of people without blowing up the cover, who all hated each other’s guts and even more so, wanted Viggo to be dead?

A potential answer dawned, head tilting slightly even though you had already known exactly what he would have said.

“We could use the Con-”

“No.”

A sigh escaped your lips, mumbling a lo pensavo, a hand raising slowly in self-defense. “Just trying my luck.”

“There must be a way without breaking all of my rules, my dear,” Winston said, a small smirk on the corner of his lips, an attempt to lighten your mood.

“You just have not turned the correct stone yet.”

You could only nod in agreement, pensive eyes meeting his blue ones, a fleeting pause before asking a question that you had harbored for far too long in your being.

Did you really want to know? Ignorance is bliss was a common motto around the uninvolved. Maybe, for once in your life, it was worth it to listen to the unaware, do as they do.

You did not.

What you knew, in this world of yours, could not hurt you. It could not break you apart. Every piece of information was money, time and effort well spent.

And as the words slipped into thin air in a fog of hesitation, you felt it—an undeniable certainty within your being that this moment would haunt you with regret, for days to come.

“Do you know anything about her?”

The sounds, laughters and clinks of glass seemed to disappear from earshot.

Much to his expectation, he knew just exactly who you had been asking for. Catching him mid-sip, Winston allowed himself a second to collect his thoughts - it had been the inevitable, after all, a simple matter of time till you had asked someone.

“Only what John mentioned to me - that they met at a restaurant.”

That, you already knew first hand.

“Anything else?”

Winston’s expression grew kinder, leaning back towards the booth to get comfortable in contrast to the subject at hand causing slight discomfort.

He would never want to hurt you.

“She is a photographer. That is all that I know.”

“Ah,” you would exclaim, your voice betraying you in a small crack and your gaze contemplating, staring at your hands resting on the marble bistro table - mind elsewhere. Your fingers involuntarily tracing the diamonds on your bracelet.

“If there is ever a sliver of doubt in your mind,” Winston started, voice gentle and filled with sympathy, “you are doing the right thing here.”

And, deep down within you, you knew you were doing the right thing. You knew he was right, there was never a moment where his words rang truer.

Why, then, you would ask yourself, did it poke a wound so deep? Why did the thought of his freedom to run to the one he loved, caused lingering, burning pain at the core?

The answer to your questions had been in your own eyes all along - laced with a certain sadness of betrayal, of remembrance.

Winston could see it clear as night and day.

In a fleeting moment, all he could offer you was the quiet solace of a shoulder to lean on, a company of an old friend - the sole presence a steady anchor amidst the storm of your chaotic mind.

He wished, oh, just how much he wished - he could take it all away.

“Go home to him,” he whispered, leaning closer for good measure, his hand softly placed on your shoulder in guidance.

Winston knew he had to bide his time, knowing that the right moment to unmask the truth would eventually arrive.

Even if he had to wait an eternity.

[bluelolblue]

Eating this up AAAH SO SILLY I love them so much 😭

Drunk Santino is SO FUNNY AHAHA

Quoting time!

SANTINO WHAT WAS YOU THINKING ☹️ poor John, Santino you lil asshole 😭

"What, you want to settle down and get married? Be serious, John.'

"And you don't?"

Santino disagreed. "Me? Married? I can't imagine a worse life, honestly. Well, I might have to marry for an alliance one day, but -"

"You're telling me you don't see a future for us?"

JOHN 😭💔

He slumped forward into his hands and just let himself cry.

AHAH there he is!

"John, che - che cazzo ci fai qui? Stronzo. Devi seguirmi. [John - what the - what the fuck are you doing here? You asshole. You must be following me.]"

I love how he was described here AHAH, small lithe figure ^ ^

He opened his eyes to see the small, lithe figure that had emerged from some side street, dark curls glowing in the lamplight.

THIS MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD PLEASE he had fun with pinot grigio AND invited whiskey AHAHAHA 😭

"Of course I am! Me and the pinot grigio made our own fun without you. We even invited the whiskey. What do...wait...are you okay?" Santino had reached him by this point and absently patted a hand against his cheek, feeling tears.

AHAH this was so silly 😭

"Hey, stop it.." But John could smell the alcohol on his breath. Both anger and hurt had instantly drowned in concern. "You're drunk."

"You're crying. Don't cry..' Santino was clingy in this state, his arms wrapping around John's neck and his forehead butting into his chest.

Santino, where do you think you're going bro? AHAHA! Of course home is not that way, baby 💀

He pushed off of John's chest again and stumbled a few steps. "I told her to leave me alone! Just..anna go home... think it was that way.." Home was not, in fact, that way.

Yeah, drunk Santino ALONE is not a good option 💀😭

John shuddered at the thought of the perils inherent in an important, highly recognizable man like Santino wandering unguarded through the streets, too drunk to defend himself. Guilt settled deep in his stomach.

PLEASE AHAHA I CANTTTT I love drunk Santino so much, this is too funny 😭

Santino waved a hand dismissively but he couldn't carry the gesture at all right now. "Don't...don't hover! I can walk." His shoe hit an odd cobblestone and at that steep angle, it sent him reeling forward. John caught him around the waist before he could go down

Okay, even in his drunk state that was actually kind romantic in my opinion AHAH I don't think that was his intention but yeah. He is a little freak :). And the last sentence "I want to fuck you until...until I'm dead and love you beyond the grave." If my future man doesn't say that to me, he ain't the one AHAH

"[You want me to be gentle and normal and l'm not, okay? I am a freak, John. I don't want to get married and live in some little suburb baking cookies. I want to show you off in front of the High Table and then spit in their faces. Spit...spit bullets in their faces. I want to fuck you until...until I'm dead and love you beyond the grave.]"

HE WANTS YOU BABY OPEN YOUR EYES 😭

[That's what I want. I don't care about a piece of paper. And I don't care where we live or whether we're a part of the Table. I don't even care if we ever have peace. I want YOU.]"

AWWW THE SILLIES 😭💙🖤💙🖤

John wasn't sure which one of them started laughing first, but it wound up with lips and teeth pressed together, and Santino tugging hard on his lapels. And it ended with their gazes locked together, two stupidly sweet smiles matching the big "D" of the half moon.

I love this so much AAAH I really needed drunk Santino and John helping his little ass AHAHAH

THANK YOU SO MUCH 💖

John getting drunk Santino home (Santino tripped over his own feet)

Hiiiii :3 This really veered off of the prompt aaaaaa it's not exactly the same thing, but it is filled with DRAMA!

(Also, this picture is pure gold. I think it’s saved on my Pinterest in like three places and it makes me feel something every time I see it.)

🖤💙 Walking Home 💙🖤

TW: alcohol, arguing

It was a brilliantly clear night in the streets of Rome. The cobblestones were scattered with flecks of golden lamplight and the moon perched its yellow hemisphere low on the horizon, echoing the distant domes of cathedrals. But John Wick had rarely felt his heart sit so heavily in his chest.

The evening had started off well enough. It was the third day of a getaway to Rome, which John had requested in an effort to keep Santino from working himself to death, and which Santino had agreed to because he never missed an excuse to pamper his “little guard dog”. After sleeping in and spending the day exploring museums and old shops, they’d finally ended up in a gorgeous restaurant and bar that John would never have noticed if Santino hadn’t been familiar with the area. It was there that the waiter mistook them for a married couple. John turned the same color as the tomato passata and said he thought that was very sweet. That he could picture it.

Santino disagreed. “What, you want to settle down and get married? Be serious, John.”

“And you don’t?”

He scoffed. “Me? Married? I can’t imagine a worse life, honestly. Well, I might have to marry for an alliance one day, but - ”

“You’re telling me you don’t see a future for us?”

And from there, things…escalated.

John had stormed out and found himself walking, weaving through crooked streets without really seeing them, replaying the memories of their argument over and over in his head. He winced again, thinking of the look on Santino’s face at the idea of marriage. It stabbed him right in the heart every time, to think that growing old together disgusted Santino so much. But why should he be surprised? He was just a killer, and Santino was a prince.

He found his footsteps heading for the Continental, since he had no intention of returning to the D’Antonio estate that night. Clearly this was the end of things between them. Why did he let himself get so attached in the first place? He was on a narrow, residential street that slanted downwards sharply enough to give him sight of rooftops stretching away, and to see that he was completely alone. He stopped, fought with himself for half a moment…but if he was going to break down anywhere, it might as well be here. He slumped forward into his hands and just let himself cry.

It was then that he heard someone calling his name.

“John, che - che cazzo ci fai qui? Stronzo. Devi seguirmi. [John – what the – what the fuck are you doing here? You asshole. You must be following me.]”

He opened his eyes to see the small, lithe figure that had emerged from some side street, dark curls glowing in the lamplight. He bristled and tried to wipe at his face before Santino could see anything. “I did NOT – “ but he stopped short. Something didn’t seem right about the way Santino was moving. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am! Me and the pinot grigio made our own fun without you. We even invited the whiskey. What do…wait…are you okay?” Santino had reached him by this point and absently patted a hand against his cheek, feeling tears.

“Hey, stop it…” But John could smell the alcohol on his breath. Both anger and hurt had instantly drowned in concern.  “You’re drunk.”

“You’re crying. Don’t cry…” Santino was clingy in this state, his arms wrapping around John’s neck and his forehead butting into his chest. John didn’t know what to do with himself. The impulse was to hug him back but after the way they’d fought, he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“Why do you care? I thought…” I thought we were broken up… “You know what, never mind. What are you doing out here? Where’s Ares?”

He pushed off of John’s chest again and stumbled a few steps. “I told her to leave me alone! Just…wanna go home…I think it was that way…” Home was not, in fact, that way.

John shuddered at the thought of the perils inherent in an important, highly recognizable man like Santino wandering unguarded through the streets, too drunk to defend himself. Guilt settled deep in his stomach. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that.” He fell into step with Santino, his eyes glued to him with concern and an arm hovering behind his back in case he lost balance. “The Continental is near here. We’ll go there, get a car, find Ares. Okay?”

Santino waved a hand dismissively but he couldn’t carry the gesture at all right now. “Don’t…don’t hover! I can walk.” His shoe hit an odd cobblestone and at that steep angle, it sent him reeling forward. John caught him around the waist before he could go down. He waited to be pushed away but Santino just leaned against him, and this time John couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around him. He felt so damn confused, but at least he’d rather be uncertain they were broken up than certain of it.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Santino let his weight fall against him even harder, pushing him back against a lamppost, and slurred, “Non posso essere quello che vuoi, John. Non sono... semplice. Pensi che potrei essere un marito? Guardami. Un litigio e... [I can’t be wha- you want, John. I’m not…simple. You think I could be a husband? Look at me. One fight and…]” He waved an arm across his dishevelment.

John opened his mouth to insist that he'd be a beautiful husband, even like this, but he still wasn’t done. “Vuoi che sia gentile e normale e non lo sono, ok? Sono un mostro, John. Non voglio sposarmi e vivere in qualche piccolo sobborgo a cuocere biscotti. Voglio metterti in mostra davanti alla Tavola Alta e poi sputargli in faccia. Sputare... sputare proiettili in faccia. Voglio scoparti finché... finché non sarò morto e ti amerò oltre la tomba. [You want me to be gentle and normal and I’m not, okay? I am a freak, John. I don’t want to get married and live in some little suburb baking cookies. I want to show you off in front of the High Table and then spit in their faces. Spit…spit bullets in their faces. I want to fuck you until…until I’m dead and love you beyond the grave.]”

John exhaled helplessly, beyond the powers of speech. He tipped his head back for a moment, eyes fixed on the vast chasm between the stars in a way that made him feel like he was falling upward for infinity. His hands were curled around Santino’s arm almost painfully, twisting the fabric. As soon as he found his tongue again, “È quello che voglio. Non mi interessa un pezzo di carta. E non mi interessa dove viviamo o se facciamo parte della Tavola. Non mi interessa nemmeno se avremo mai pace. Voglio TE. [That’s what I want. I don’t care about a piece of paper. And I don’t care where we live or whether we’re a part of the Table. I don’t even care if we ever have peace. I want YOU.]”

“Allora... di che cazzo stiamo discutendo? [Then…what the fuck are we arguing about?]”

John wasn’t sure which one of them started laughing first, but it wound up with lips and teeth pressed together, and Santino tugging hard on his lapels. And it ended with their gazes locked together, two stupidly sweet smiles matching the big “D” of the half moon.

He pulled Santino’s arm over his shoulder and started walking. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

[mrssimply]

The Burning of Rome

Part I - Spark

Chapter 3 : Scorching Games

---

“That’s my shirt,” John remarked.  It was open except for the last two buttons from the bottom. And apparently, Santino wasn’t wearing anything else. The man leaned back against the chair, his smile morphing into something more seductive. “Is it? My mistake. Want me to take it off?” John was tempted — too much, he couldn’t get enough — but he was also still holding the groceries. He lifted his hands to show Santino, who let him step back but followed after him like a curious cat. John knew what he hoped to find in the bags, and he might have smelled them. Sure enough, the moment John dropped the bags on the counter, Santino was going for the one where the sugary fragrance came from. “Tania made loukoumades for you,” John needlessly informed. “I love that woman,” the crime lord declared solemnly. He made a little noise when he discovered the small round donuts.  “More than me?” “Differently. You don’t make loukoumades, that’s unfortunately a terrible defect on your part.” John chuckled, putting the rest of the groceries in the fridge and cupboards. When he turned, Santino was opening the jar of honey and dipping the first donut into it liberally.  - The thing was, John liked loukoumades too, but only when he could taste them from Santino’s lips. The man moaned when he bit into the sweet, eyes fluttering shut under John’s sharp gaze.  Santino was properly indecent when he enjoyed the treats; he looked at his companion from under his lashes, emerald irises glittering with mischief as he sucked his fingers to catch the last drop of honey.  - He knew what it did to John, too, whose gaze dropped from his lips to the line of his throat, dipping into the opened shirt. Santino smiled, and fetched another small donut out of the bag, drenching it in honey before bringing it back to his mouth. His lips shone with the syrup, calling John’s gaze back to them. He took a step closer, crowding Santino against the counter and putting his hands over the shirt on his hips. The younger man leaned back, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck. He didn’t have to wait long before John dipped his head and brushed his mouth over the naked skin at the same time one of his hands pushed the shirt away from his right shoulder. John heard his amused huff, but didn’t care if he was found too easy. They both knew Santino was his biggest weakness, in every way.  - Seemingly uncaring about his lover’s interest, Santino went back for the loukoumades and ate two more while John opened the shirt’s last buttons and stroked his bare skin from hip to chest. He only deigned to take notice when John pinched his nipples and gently rubbed his beard against Santino’s cheek. The crime lord made a low noise in his throat and pushed his lover away. John protested, eyes flickering from Santino’s lowered lids to his half parted mouth, and fought down the urge to fall on his knees. He tried not to do that on his own volition too often, lest it went to Santino’s head. The man seemed to read it on his face anyway, and smirked. He dipped his index into the honey once again, never leaving John’s eyes, and brought it to his mouth to suck it in slowly. It overflowed on his lips as he pulled his finger out. John’s hands spasmed around his sides. He let out a growl and crowded closer again, panting against Santino’s mouth but not actually touching him yet. 

[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.