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samstclair · 6 months

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Tony Soprano's Goomah

Tony Soprano X Reader

Anonymous Request -

Hiya Saint Samuel!!!!! So listen to this, I've just started Sopranos, you know, the HBO show? Anyway I've come to the conclusion that Tony is exactly my type. He's brought out an inherent and animalistic part of me I never realized was there in the first place. Like, a strong attraction to alpha men. I'm not that far in the show, but I love the idea of him taking me to dinner at Vesuvio's, you know, Artie's restaurant? I love that he supports his friend's small business when he's not busy blowing it up! So could you come up with an imagine about the date? Let me know!! Thank you!!!!

P.S. - I love your work but please keep this one short! It's gotta be a quickie before bed!

Word Count: not that long tbh

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"It's so gloomy out," you said, face souring as you looked out the window of your apartment. "It's always gloomy."

"Um, where the fuck do you think we're at? It's New Jersey," your friend, Snooki, said. "That's why I only like the shore. It's different out there."

You smiled. Her thick Jersey accent always threw you off but it felt so warming. You forgot people actually talked like that. She'd come to visit you from the Shore to help you get ready for your little date. She was filming a season of her TV show, which you didn't completely understand, but nonetheless you were supportive cause you always supported your girls. That's just how being a girlie works.

"So who's this guy anyway?" Snooki asked as she began to flat iron your hair, clouds of thick smoke rising from it as it fried your shit straight. "You're so like, secretive about him. You never ended up telling me."

You blushed, living for the idea of this little forbidden-esque romance you and Tony had.

"I didn't tell you because I'd only just met you, I had to make sure you were a girl's girl first, you know?"

"And when was that?"

"When I found out you were down to help hide me go into hiding from the stupid ugly IRS men-in-black people, THAT'S when I knew."

She smiled to herself, she DID that.

"Anyway, and I couldn't tell you over the phone cause you were on that stupid duck phone. I didn't want the show to be recording my business, silly," you said, "plus, those guy friends you have there are creeps. I don't want them knowing my business, either."

You shuddered at the thought of those overly-tan, Ed Hardy cologne smelling boys. You didn't trust them in the slightest. After one of them called you a grenade because they caught a glimpse a single stretch mark, you knew DAMN well they had never been connected to any basis of reality and therefore not REAL.

Except Paulie, you didn't really mind him, if you catch my drift if you catch the flow! ;). He was lowkey a girl's girl.

"So tell me now! I'm so over waiting!" she whined. She really was over it. You loved holding back information some times just to create a little suspense. A little of that never hurt no one never hurt a FLY.

"Well, what do you wanna know?" you smirked to yourself.

"Is he Italian?"

"Oh, def."

"Is he tan?"

"Oh, no."

She suddenly stopped the ironing and gave you an annoyed look in the mirror. You knew that was a no-no in Snicker's book. "Then why are you wasting your time?"

"Because he's just hot, like, I don't know how to explain it," you really didn't. When you first met, you just found it odd how insanely attracted you were to him. You just were. It made you feel like a middle-aged mom. But who cares? EXACTLY! "He's low-key, rich, high-key. He works in like, garbage disposal or some shit."

"That's what they say when they're in the mafia." Snooki said, continuing to iron your hair.

"I did my fair amount of business with Italians back in England, I know what the mafia looks like." Of that, you did. But that was your old life, you were supposed moving on. The Queen is dead, after all. Don't push!

You wish you could tell your girlfriend more, but you had to remind yourself that you were under a different identity - as you mentioned before, the IRS are actually a bunch of Debbie downers and negative Nancies who wanna see you, just a girl, down. They hated seeing you, just a girl, succeed, and that's not cool or cute. They ran you out of the country once, but not again. You were a full, beer-blooded American and that's that. (if ur reading this and not American just pretend you are! Who wouldn't want to?!)

You met Tony through the Italian connections you had in England, and once you knew you had to escape back to America, they were the only allies you knew that could help smuggle you in like the cocaine in little baggies shoved up the asscracks of a flight attendee. If it weren't for that, New Jersey would have definitely NOT been the first place you had in mind to arrive in.

Once the Italians brought you through, they directed you to this deli place called Satriale's after you moaned and groaned about your tummy rumbling. You kept joking that you were a different person when you were hungry, what you dubbed as the "hungry monster", over and over. Safe to say, the Italians soon grew increasingly uncomfortable with that and your other incoherent ramblings about food and decided you needed some gabagool.

Let's just say - you went to absolute fucking town on those slices of meat and cheese. All those thoughts about becoming a vegetarian? Yeah, out the window they WENT.

You assumed that none of those Italian-Americans knew that a girl could fucking eat, because they looked at you with both horror and confusion. Also, a little concernment. You also learned the complete difference between Italian and Italian-American, as if that horrendous atrocity that is your bff Snooki's Jersey Shore season 4 wasn't enough to learn from.

As you were munching away on what you were sure was only your third slice of 'salam' (salami), (it was actually your eleventh), the door swung open along with the little bell atop ringing. That wasn't what broke you out of your trance, no, no it would take a LOT for that to happen in the state you were in, but it was who....

"Hey, sweetheart, save some for the rest of us, huh?" He giggled, his other goons giggling behind him.

You looked up. You hated being spoken at while eating. It was really a trigger.

But there he was. Tony.

Tall, big, low-key balding, leather jacket and Goodwill's men section polo with some khaki pants, cigar in hand, under-sized gold rings and necklaces bulging, and a whiff of men's cologne (probably an Italian designer's).

You were stumped. Stunned. Stupefied.

So were they. They watched you, waiting for some sort of response whether it was verbal or physical. Instead, they were given your mega disassociation-state, blank expression, mouth full with a slice of meat in one hand and a slice of cheese in the other.

The entire deli went silent - it was literally as if there was a cowboy standoff going on like some Western film shit. A Spaghetti western here, perhaps?

"Fuck's wrong with her?" one of his minions asked. You later found out this was his wannabe Aaron Sorkin nephew Christopha.

"Hey, Ton', I think you broke the poor broad!" the other said, who had crazy white streaks of hair. This was his other minion, Paulie who giggled with the possible case of Tourette's syndrome.

"Ayyeeee, sweethaarrttt," the other said with a grumpy face and crazy hairline, (Silvio), "what's tha matta?"

You didn't know what the matter was. And honestly, neither did Tony.

All you two knew, is that you were both locked IN. What you didn't know at the time, was that he realized he had landed his eyes on one of the most beautiful, fine ass women he'd ever seen. And man was down BAD! Of course he was, girl, LOOK AT YOU!

(For realsies all respect to Carmela she did not deserve any of Tony's caca!)

"Who the fuck is this?" he finally asked, somewhat angrily. He wasn't angry, just taken aback someone had defied him as much as you did in that moment from that face off. And that's just the regular tone of how a lot of these people talked, which you ALSO later learned.

"I'm me," you said back.

The three minions behind him all raised their brows in shock. They couldn't conceive a girlie, like you, could sass just as hard back. That response ALWAYS worked.

And that was that. You two were history <3.

You then met Snooki at a bar later that same night and she let you stay at the Jersey Shore house for a bit until Tony gave you enough money to get your own spot. And now, here you two were. Some full circle shit.

So yeah back to your apartment WE'RE BACK AT THE APARTMENT!!

You were in the midst of a rant to Snooki about beefing with your hairstylist, the same lady who bleached your hair and unknowingly participated as an accessory to concealing your real identity from authorities.

"...and so I was like, I want a bleach and tone, like can you do a bleach and tone for me please, like smiley face emoji and she was like tone? (question mark) and I was like, a bleach and tone, like, a bleach and tone, like a bleach and tone, like what do you mean tone, like? Like after you bleach it, can you tone it, like make it not brassy, and she was like 'oh oh I understand' and put, like, the blonde princess emoji and I was like, okay I'm glad you understand."

"What a fucking dumbass," Snooki laughed, finishing your hair. "I can just give you the number to my hairdresser, just let me know."

You heavily considered. A couple chunky stripe black highlights here and there? Some reverse raccoon shit? SHIT!!!

As she wrapped up, you admired yourself in the mirror. Your other girlfriend, JWoww, had done your makeup but had to leave early to let out her dogs at her house. She'd done the full Y2K trashy mcbling look - black smokey eye with glitter, heavy on the contour, thin ass brows and a nude lip. You looked like a Pamela Anderson variant and you were fucking it up!

After taking some grainy ass photos on your hot pink bedazzled camera, Snooki hyping you up some more and pregaming with you before your date, you got a text!

"I've got a text!" you said like a Love Islander.

"Oh my god, is it from him?" Snooki asked, drinking the remnants of the Ron-Ron juice she made, the only good thing he's ever been associated with.

"Oh, fuck he's like - he's like here! He's here!"

You ran towards your window and peeped your head through the blinds - he was indeed here in his red Chevy. A wave of anxiety flushed over you - but you weren't sure why? You were literally his 'goomar' or 'goomah' however you spell it and this definetly wasn't your first time on a date with him. But every time before one, you felt like you needed to shit yourself. He just made you all nervy! Like, that's a MAN RIGHT THERE!

"Oh, fuck Snooki," you said, frightened. "I think I need to go."

"You're kidding. You don't have time! You said he made a reservation, right?"

"Oh, I don't know. He just walks into anywhere and he automatically has a reservation for that exact time. You really think I can't go?"

"I mean, how fast can you go?"

You ended up going. And you were fast.

It was a quickie, definitely not ALL that needed to come out, but it was something for now. You knew your body too well. As you hit that flush lever thingie, you saw all your anxiety go down with it. You were ready, renewed, and refreshed. THOSE are the real three R's for saving the planet. You also smoked the last bit if your blunt, a 'roach' if you will, to see if that could calm your nerves. Spoiler - it didn't. Girl there was less than an inch left the fuck did you think that would do.

As Snooki was closing the front door, she yelled somewhat drunkenly "YOU'RE FUCKING HOT!" It definitely gave you a little pep in your step, to say the very least. Your heels clicked and clicked down that staircase, you felt like Rose in Titanic to Jack in that one scene.

Tony exited the car, admiring his view. Snooki was very right. You were eating it UP LIKE THAT BITCH!!

You had a slip on sequin dress, not too clubby but not too dressy, low-key classy and a little not too shabby? Your hair was all done up and your hoops dangled from your ears. You smelled of some sweet Nicki Minaj's body spray from TJ Maxx.

A cloud of cologne (a good cologne, one that you secretly stole for him also from TJ Maxx) hit you as you and Tony embraced. Even with your heels, he still stood over you like a fucking wall. You got why the gays love their bears.

"How do I look, Tony?" you asked. You knew your answer you just fucked with compliments.

"You look beautiful, hun. Like an old Hollywood actress. Let's get goin'." He opened the passenger's seat door for you like the gentleman he was and closed it behind you. Once he was in the driver's seat, you two were off.

It was now Christmas time - so the aesthetic was KICKING! Lights were all around on people's houses and trees, the air was cool and there was a little snowfall. It felt like some cozy 2000's digital photos you find under looking up 'nostalgic' on Pinterest. The car's heater was on full and the warmth felt good against your ass. You thought about fucking up a sauna and how you'd love one of those. Maybe a future date with Tony?

You lowered the sun visor to check yourself in the mirror. These false lashes were CRAZY. You only trusted JWoww or Snooki to put them on.

"You smell that?" Tony asked, sniffing the air.

"No," you said. You only smelled the his strong cologne and Nicki.

"You smell like weed," he said.

You did forget about the 'roach' and plants you were growing on your balcony to make some extra cash. But then, you thought, this could be the perfect lay-up right now. If it worked on Megan Fox, maybe it would work on Tony? If it didn't, you'd honestly Lady Bird yourself out of his car from the embarrassment.

"I am weed," you said, trying to sound femme fatale, biting your tongue like a mom.

He didn't get it.

"What did you say?"

You weren't high enough for this.

"Man, never mind," you said. "Where we going, anyway? You said you were take me to eat some real food. Cause apparently McDonald's isn't."

"Oh please, you're gonna start with that shit again?" Tony said. One thing with Tony, and all these mafiosos, they have more insecurity than a thirteen-year-old middle school girl. You've had to learn how to dodge Tony's whiny moments.

"So where?" you asked again, back to the topic.

"Italian."

"Oh, like Olive Garden?"

He stopped at a light and faced you, with a look of pure disgust.

You saw him in the corner of your eye, trying not to smile. You loved fucking with him. It was like fucking with a toddler.

"The fuck did you say?"

And there it was.

Tony then began to rant about what true Italian dining and food was, as he always loved to flex in his whiny self about how there's no other shame of an establishment other than Olive Garden to bring embarrassment to Italian cuisine. You disassociated for much of it after, watching the lit-up suburbs as you drove by.

"....and that's why Vesuvio's puts back the honor in the Italian name. End of story!"

"That's crazy," you said, one of your many safe automatic responses to have after your disassociation trips.

Anyway, you two had finally made it to the restaurant, as Tony mentioned before, called Vesuvio's. It was owned by a close friend of his, which made you all happy as it was refreshing to see Tony support small businesses. It was the late evening, so the sun had already set and the ambience was hitting.

Before you entered the restaurant, Tony said he had a surprise for you and took out from the back of his car a quite large box.

"What is this?"

"Go ahead," he smiled slyly, "open it up."

You felt like a child needing to rip the bitch open, but you stopped yourself - you liked playing hard to get so you knew you had to act indifferent. You instead opened it slowly, as if it was just an ordinary box but no it WASN'T!

"No. Fucking. Way," you were in disbelief. "Tony - a FUCKING VINTAGE HOT PINK JUICY TRACKSUIT?! THESE ARE LIKE, $100 ON DEPOP?!?!?!?!"

He was fucking up your reaction. He must've really listened to when you indulged in him your airport troubles and losing your suitcase, as well as your vintage Juicy Couture tracksuit. This got you all hot and shit down there to know he cared like that. Again, this is a MAN. He makes ugly dudes like Tate tater tot look like a little bitch and that's that.

"You like it?" he asked as you yanked that shit out and were admiring it. "Here, let me help," he put the box down and helped put the top jacket part on.

You were too shock to speak. Non-verbal, if you would.

"Tony, no bro it's that I can't - "

His little dumbass smile made it all the better. You hated that he knew he ate with this.

The fresh smell of baked bread and pasta was making your toes curl violently. You loved being a fat ass. Once inside, Tony greeted like half the staff because that's what these men do, but you were just bouncing your eyes from table to table at all the dishes. Shit was about to HIT! You purposely didn't eat all day so you could have room for what tonight was to come. But, with that, the Ron-Ron juice was now in full effect. Uh oh oh no.

No, no - you couldn't. Had you not learned before in England? You cannot embarrass Tony, no, not in front of all these people. Tony was like a pillar in this little suburban community, you needed to make him look good!

But then, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror - you DO look good!

And then it hit you - you're just a girl who likes to dress up and eat good. The last thing you were gonna do was hide who you truly were! High key who gives a fuck about Tony? You do but you get what I mean.

A very pretty, blonde hostess came to you guys and led you to your table. Tony said hi, gave her the usual besitos, and introduced you two.

"Y/N, this is Adriana. You know, Christopha's girlfriend?"

"Oh my god yes! I remember!" you brought her in for a hug and your own besitos. She smelled great. It made you so happy to see another girl do her thing! "You look so good, bro! And your nails!"

"Oh, my god thank you!" she said, modestly. "You're so pretty!"

Tony smiled, happy to see two girls do their thing. Men will never understand.

You two sat a little more secluded towards the back. He had introduced you to Artie, the best friend and owner of the restaurant.

About an hour in, the vibes were HITTING! You were on your third slice of bread, dipping it in the olive oil and vinegar (though you preferred butter, but you weren't just about to say that in front of all these Italians, LITERALLY when in Rome like??), laughing as Tony was making his shitty dad jokes, light Frank Sinatra and 'like a big pizza pie in the sky' in the background, the chatter of other customers who were also vibing, and, like you, looking forward to absolutely demolishing the dishes.

What those dishes were, you wouldn't know. The moment you sat, Artie pulled up and took your menus, saying he would make y'all something exclusive from the menu. Like THAT? Like that. You felt like it was 2017 all over again and you just found out about the secret Pink Drink that wasn't on the Starbucks menu. Exclusive!

As Tony was rambling on about his new horse, you were just thinking about how insanely attractive he was. Again, this ain't no boy - no, this is a MAN. This is a man who gets shit done, whenever and wherever. You always thought yourself to be pretty humble and not consider power a trait to find attractive, but you just realized you were lying to yourself this whole time, cause Tony proved it was. Is it shallow? Oops. Who gives a fuck be real. That and giving you money every time he saw you was definitely a plus! He was just too smooth with shit.

And let's be real again, it was a little bit of a power trip for you too. Like, you're TONY'S girl. You know what that's more powerful than? Exactly. Anyone other than Tony's girl.

"What's your horse's name?" you asked.

"Pie-O-My."

"That's such a cute name!"

Dumbass name, you thought. But in all honesty you would've named a horse like Pickle or some shit so.

"Do you like horses? I should take you ta see her sometime."

You weren't a horse girl, even though you did have a small phase in middle school. "How could you not? They're so, like, otherworldly. Back in Colombia, my old boss used to have a zoo, and there were a bunch of horses there too."

"When were you in Colombia?"

You froze - you forgot. You're not Y/N, you're Y/N! You're supposed to be under a false identity! You can't just be revealing your past, Colombia was not supposed to be talked about! Have England Colombia not taught you anything?

"A long, long, long, long time ago. Long time. Looooong time," you said, smiling sheepishly and taking a nervous sip of your wine. This topic needed to be SKIPPED.

"For business?"

And then you forgot. Tony literally knows you're a fugitive. You are safe <3

You went on to expand about your brief but not-so-brief, actually extensive, time in Colombia, working for Pablo and committing heists with your girls. It seemed like another lifetime ago, but recounting it brought you such nostalgia, it made you happy to reminisce. Tony was eating it up too, he fucked with the fact that you weren't just no ordinary girl, no, you were a girl with a past. Dare I say, not like other girls at that. A criminal one, at that. To these macho mafiosos, seeing a girl do more than being a housewife is considered very exotic.

"One time, in Colombia, I almost set off one of Pablo's bombas by accident," you giggled to yourself. Shit was crazy. "It was supposed to be a hit on someone and I opened the wrong door to the wrong car lol. Thank god it malfunctioned and didn't detonate, but ever since then my close experience with death has just taught me to live, laugh and love more, you know? He was reaalllyyy pissed at me, for like a minute. Then he got over it, cause like, it's never that serious, you know?"

You dug into your pasta, which had just been brought out. It was Alfredo, your favorite. You weren't sure how Alfredo was an exclusive dish, but whatevs. You felt the warmness go down through your intestines - deletable. You felt Mark Weins possessing your spirit.

Tony was in awe of your stories.

"Wait, wait, Pablo's what?"

"Bombas. You know."

He still didn't comprehend. Ugh boys.

"Bomb bass?" you repeated.

"Boss Baby? Like that cartoon scientist prick?"

You'd never seen Boss Baby, but was pretty sure he wasn't a scientist. Just a baby in STEM. "No, Tony, bom-bas."

"Baz Luhrmann?"

"Oh my god, no, but I miss that summer," you said, thinking about that curse of a movie. "All that our love surviveeeesssss. So good. So good."

You continued eating your pasta, imagining Jacob Elordi's face instead of Austin Butler. It helped with the nightmares.

"Wait, you mean bombs?" he whispered.

"Yes, that!" you covered your mouth with your hand, still chomping away, "Sorry, all that time in Colombia I forgot English words. I should redownload Duolingo again."

"You can't say that around here. Not around Artie."

"Why not?"

"He's sensitive to subjects like that. Gets him all nervous." Tony then went on to basically play with his food by making his fork dance in and out of it, never actually accumulating more pasta. This was his fidgeting.

"You garbage disposal guys love to pretend you're all hard and shit."

He stopped. Again, he's offended. "What did you say?"

"Like, you pretend you're all hard, and shit, but then you're not. Okay, like, okay - Paulie doesn't like me cause I made a joke. A little joke and he got all butthurt."

"Yeah, cause you said that if he eats more than 12 grapes on New Years, he's cursed."

"Yeah, so what? His fat ass ate the entire bag. I had to make him feel bad for that. Reparations, honestly."

"You know Paulie, he's superstitious. And you weren't helping when you asked his zodiac sign or whatever bullshit."

"And what about Silvio, huh? So what if I've never seen the Godfather? How else is a normal person supposed to react if you just randomly say 'once I'm out they pull me back in'? Like, what? Back into what? I was being nice pretending I knew what he was talking about the first couple of times. I can only fake it til I make it so much."

Tony was growing more impatient.

"And Christopher? Sorry if I didn't know that an Elf Bar would break his sobriety. I just thought he'd love to invest -"

"Listen, sweetheart, I gotta be honest with ya. My friends, they're not perfect, but they're my family. Let's not forget about the sanctity of loyalty and respect. So let's put this aside and enjoy each other's company, huh -"

"How's the food, huh?" Artie asked, suddenly appearing like an Gusteau's ghost.

"It's great, Artie," Tony said, somewhat dismissively.

"Artie, you ATE this shit up! I'm gonna be sleeping sooooo good tonight!" you smiled. He smiled that you smiled.

"Well thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?" Artie then walked off, leaving you two to yourselves. He quickly turned around and came back. "Be sure to call if you feel you have food poisoning, though."

"Wait, what?" you asked, mimicking Trisha Paytas.

"Cause if you do have it, it's not my food," he chuckled. "Right, Ton'?"

With that ominous comment/inside joke that you really had no idea what he was talking about, he walked away laughing. Tony wasn't. He, underneath it all was fuming but holding it in. He didn't like to raise his voice in front of you, because he knew you would hit lengths that exceeded his. One of your favorite activities was to make guys feel stupid, and you were too good at that and he knew. Honestly, he was kinda scared of the power you held, like one of Pablo's bombas.

You just shrugged it off and continued eating up your pasta.

It was quiet. It wasn't an awkward quiet, just a 'who's gonna talk first to get us past this quiet' sort of quiet. You didn't care, you were being wined and dined for free.

You then thought about how you could enhance the dish, like a wizard adding potions and his creation. You pointed to the parmesan.

"What?" Tony asked, oblivious, munching.

"Cheese, hellur?"

"The fuck is 'hellur'?'

You swallowed the food that prevented you from saying 'hello' correctly.

"Like, hello. So, cheese, hello?"

"Why not say hello?"

"Tony, I don't make fun of you when you say things in Italian," you shot back. He couldn't know food delayed your speech. "Don't make fun of my language, xenophobia doesn't look good on you."

He passed the parm, again in awe. "You know, of all the women I've been with, you're the weirdest fucking one," he laughed to himself.

"Awe, Tony, you're so sweet." You smiled. The bad quiet vibes had gone away and the good vibes had returned. So what if there was a boulder on the path? You walk AROUND it!

Fast forward to dessert. Artie brought you some cannolis because we're in an Italian restaurant remember.

Tony was in the middle of being pretty vulnerable with you. You loved that type of shit, when a man opens up. It's like seeing them fully evolve to becoming a normal person and you were front row.

"The things I do, you know. It's to get food on the table for my kids. But they, they don't understand. Meadow does, she's still young, but AJ? I don't know about the poor kid. Stays in his room all day, on that fucking computer, listens to that metal bullshit -"

"He's just going through his emo era. We all have it, don't worry. Some worse than others. And, he's a boy. They all enjoy a little Reddit from time to time. But just cause you're a criminal, Tony, doesn't make you a villain. The IRS just love to hate, trust me, I know."

He appreciated that you cared. "Therapy helps too, or whatever."

"Awe, that's great Tony!"

"But don't tell anyone, or I'll get whacked."

"By who?"

"You know. My associates."

"That's nice that you play games with your associates. It should be more than just business, you know. Like, there should be room for some bonding time and exercises."

"What are you talking about?"

"Like, Whack-a-Mole. Isn't that what you were talking about?"

Tony laughed. You thought he got it, but he was just still confused and was actually laughing at the shit you just say.

After the check (there was no check cause it's Tony Soprano), you two stopped by at Wawa to get some SpongeBob popsicles, cause those cannolis didn't hit that 'sumthin sweet' feeling. The flavor you got wasn't as good as his, despite being the same thing, so at every free opportunity when he wasn't looking you scooped a little of his. He started to notice as his popsicle shrunk and shrunk, getting hot at what you were doing. You didn't mind, you liked it sometimes when he got mad cause you thought it was funny you got to him like that. He got over it eventually, realizing that it's never THAT serious.

Some time later you were back at his place, what your girls would call an 'open crib'. It was just you two, and as Nicki once said, the night was still young. The possibilities? Yeah, they're endless. You had to admit, you were getting impatient. You needed something and that something was NOW.

By the pool, you two were making out. Shit was getting heavy and the night was getting pretty fucking chilly. A little too chilly, like the Juicy tracksuit was cute asf, but let's be real not helping in the slightest. But you weren't just about to have that interrupt you. What's a little cold? People literally live in like, Russian tundra.

Still making out, you felt small droplets of water hit you.

You broke from the kiss and said, quite sensually but not exactly meaning to, "I'm wet."

Tony chuckled with his goofy, excited smile. "Tell me more -"

He brought you back in for another kiss.

You felt more of those droplets hit you. You broke your kiss off again.

"No, I'm actually wet."

As if on cue, the rain began to pour pretty hard, increasingly violent. He grabbed your arm and pulled you to go inside. You two laughed as you were drenched, trying to escape the heavy downpour on some rom-com bullshit.

You slid your heels off and ran, you ran and ran. One thing you knew how to do - you knew how to ran. Your feet hit those puddles of water with such velocity, Tony could no longer catch up to you and lagged behind. Your hands let go - you couldn't wait for him. Once you were in this state, there was no breaking out of it. He was amazed at your abilities. You couldn't risk your makeup running. That's a big no-no, no?

Once inside, he brought you two towels and began drying you off. You caught a quick glimpse of your make up in the mirror, and needless to say, you needed JWoww to drop you that link of the setting spray she used cause shit was STUCK. Immovable.

"Thanks for the towel, Tony." you said. He winked at you, pulled his soaked shirt off and tossed it on the kitchen counter, then pulled out a jug of orange juice from the fridge, downing that bitch. Your eyes trailed from his body hair, down to his chest, to his belly, then his happy trail down to - oh. Oh there it is.

"Peter, the horse is here." you said. That bulge was bulging.

Tony clocked his head to you.

You thought you said it in your head, but you actually said it loud and clear.

"Who the fuck is Peta?" he interrogated, getting scared into thinking someone else was in the house, or that maybe 'Peter' was someone you were seeing...

"My god Tony you're such a fucking boomer."

"Is Peter your boyfriend -"

"- oh SHUT UP TONY!" you said, before pouncing on top of him. You hugged him, and he hugs tightly back, he then throws you on the dining table and you feel his member pressed against your leg. He begins kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fight for dominance but you let him win. He eventually starts going down on you, taking your sequin dress off, and starts kissing your labia.

"This...this is a labia," he says. "End of story!"

You lift your legs as he begins to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He holds your foot up and raises himself, ready to press his member into your entrance. Your eyes are closed, ready to take the man from North Caldwell, New Jersey in. This is it. No Peta, no duck phone, no garbage disposal, nothing - just you and Tony.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

Also, a heads up! A friendly warning - DON'T tell me how long to make story. That is up to me, myself and I. Anyway this one's shorter so whatevs.

xoxo,

~ Sam St. Clair

#tony soprano #the sopranos #Tony soprano x reader #fanfiction #tony x reader #imagine #smut #fluff #fan fiction

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