#michael corleone x reader smut

[melis-writes]

The Other Woman [Michael Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 5 – A Part of The Family.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 4 / Chapter Masterlist / Fanfic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"Michael cares about you, don't forget that." / "Forget Kay. This has nothing to do with her."

With the Las Vegas gala approaching, you can neither get your mind off of spending the formal evening with the Corleone's nor do you hear the end of it at the Lake Tahoe compound. Growing closer with both Anthony and Mary who've begun to open up to you and enjoy your teaching, your career as the Corleone household's governess thrives and is noticed by Michael and Kay for different reasons altogether. Kay has slowly begun to doubt her parenting skills from observing you whereas Michael is no longer waiting for you to give in but making his first move. In the meanwhile, what you've learned about the Corleone family only further convinces you Michael may be living in Vito Corleone's legacy, but is nothing like the bloodthirsty mafiosi that killed your brothers. Patience between the sexual frustration mounting between you two will take you both to Las Vegas, but Michael intention isn't to be the center of attention at a gala his family his hosting–it's to make you his.

[WARNINGS]: Sexual themes & mentions.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Another chapter is finally here and an important one marking the end of this "slow burn" between Michael and Marina. 🤭💓 Michael won't stop to get at what he wants and he's no longer waiting for Marina to give in because he knows she can't in front of everyone and peering eyes, of course. 😳 Next chapter and onwards will be scandalous and promiscuous Michael's waited until the Las Vegas gala and he's going to make his first move, if it wasn't obvious in this chapter! 😈

Hired by the Corleone family as a governess, you relocate to the Lake Tahoe family compound, looking forward to your future in Nevada until you meet your employer—Michael Corleone. Your future is then ensnared only in lust and forbidden love for Michael since the beginning, and you find yourself yearning for a married man you can never have. Desire and passion clash with one another as Michael takes you to be his mistress—only having an exclusive sexual relationship with you while his sex life with Kay dies out. Knowing from the beginning you’ll never truly be with Michael and that your place in his life is worlds apart from Kay’s as the other woman, the love you have for him consumes you until it threatens to burn out everything you’ve ever had with Michael.

“I know you’re not used to these sorts of things,” Michael’s tone of voice is low and soothing, his words velvety as he speaks them so close to the side of your neck that you can feel his soft breath on you.

Your heart thunders in your chest from arousal and excitement coursing through you as you linger by the doorway of Michael’s office; refusing to step out and away from this man for as long as you possibly can.

“You will be,” Michael continues, taking a step closer to you and standing directly behind you, “as you get to understand my family name and the hospitality the Corleones offer.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe back, barely audibly as the scent of Michael’s cologne hits you again.

Michael gazes at your back before letting his eyes wander admiringly over your figure, the curve of your hips and the shape of your thighs clinging against your pencil skirt. “Stay by me throughout the evening and you’ll be fine—if it comes to that.”

You give a small nod, slowly turning around to face Michael as you speak to him. “As long as I’m not disturbing your evening.”

You cannot push away the idea of possibly being a burden to the Corleones on such a special evening and social gathering, seeming as if you constantly need to be watched lest you somehow act out of line or do something wrong in front of hundreds of wealthy investors and businessmen.

“Nonsense,” Michael affirms, looking you in the eyes. “You’re not a burden, you’re my governess. You’re my guest.”

You surprise yourself with how you’re able to step out of Michael’s office without stumbling over your own two feet after having that conversation come to an end.

The tips of your ears and your cheeks sting, burning with blush as all you can think is how Michael’s planning to have this evening be tailored to you and your comfort up to the point where he’s picked out your gown for the evening.

As you make your way out of the Corleone estate and back to your living quarters, you remind yourself that even if you think Kay knows Michael’s done such a thing, you’ll keep everything and anything that happens between you and Michael all to yourself.

‘Everything should be fine.’

 You don’t think Kay would mind too much but then again as you think it over, the idea of having your husband pick out an evening dress for another woman stirs a bit of jealousy inside of you that you don’t think Kay is immune to herself.

Maybe Kay would look too deep into it; perhaps Kay knows her husband isn’t the type of man to just “pick” out a dress for someone and since Kay knows Michael like the back of her hand and you don’t, the possibilities are endless.

Kay’s mind may first go to Michael being generous and picking out a dress for you simply because you forgot to choose, or he chose a random one simply for the sake of saving time for the order, but if it comes to overthinking Michael’s picked out an evening dress for you because he thought about what color adorns your skin and body perfectly and what he’d like to see you in… It would mean trouble.

There’s nothing going on between you and Michael that you’re entirely aware of for the time being, but even having the slightest bit of a crush on a man like Michael Corleone must absolutely not be given away or told to anyone.

If you let your fantasies and the beat of your heart delude you into assuming something more with Michael, you may find yourself outed to people for trying to flirt and be with a married man who seems all too unattainable to you even if he was a bachelor.

Nobody can know how you feel about Michael; not now, and not ever. You know your heart would be better off if he doesn’t catch onto how you feel either.

~

All throughout the week, the only thing mentioned back and forth again with excitement and anticipation is the upcoming gala in Las Vegas this Saturday.

Whether you hear it giddily from Kay or Connie whose been carefully curating the perfect outfit for the evening makes no difference; there’s a thrill sparking inside you when you think of attending your first black tie event with the Corleone family that more often than not blends in with the amount of nervousness you feel about it too.

“That’s what I’m saying!” You overhear Kay excitedly exclaiming to Sandra over in the kitchen. “The family has come so far. I’m honestly so proud of Michael, he does so much for us. All that’s mentioned in Reno and Las Vegas in the business is our family name, you know that? It’s incredible how we’ll we’ve done.”

Something tells you however that Michael hasn’t and most likely won’t be giving Kay all of the details about his or the family’s business but if it’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s just how powerful and influential the Corleone family truly is.

‘Michael Corleone is a hell of a businessman and a good one at that…’

The topic of the Las Vegas gala is all the more unavoidable the closer you are to Kay which is consistent throughout the day as you teach the children, quietly mark homework, and take a break while going through some paperwork.

Sandra, Connie, and Theresa both share the excitement and anticipation for the gala, but none come near the unmatched enthusiasm of Kay.

Of course, Kay’s experience is just as incomparable as her excitement for the gala as being Mrs. Corleone has its benefits and luxuries others won’t share or come close to having

Michael and Kay Corleone together are the hosts of the gala and all eyes and ears will be on them throughout the night above all.

“Hopefully we’ll manage to enjoy a good dinner together,” you hear Kay sigh, “I just know the minute Michael arrives, all of his business partners will do anything to get a word in with him first. They won’t want to leave him alone.”

You find yourself blushing at the mention of Michael’s name, no longer catching yourself or mentally scolding yourself for it.

You wish you can be the one holding Michael’s attention consistently throughout the evening as if it was up to you, you would want him all to yourself for the remainder of the event regardless of whose desperate to talk business matters with Michael.

As Kay’s conversation with Sandra fades off onto another subject, you brush the topic out of your mind and continue focusing on your lesson planning for the day.

You ensure you’ve double-checked your planner so there’s enough time in tomorrow’s lesson for enough repetition and homework check, but also sufficient time to introduce a new unit without all of it being overbearing in one lesson.

‘A final little test for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star for piano should wrap up this unit before we learn another piece…’ Distracted, you haven’t realized that the estate has gone completely quiet except for a faint giggle coming from Kay.

Blinking, you sit up straight on the couch in the living room—expecting Kay or Sandra to walk in only to see Michael enter a split second later.

Your face flushes a shade of scarlet instantly from the blush stinging your cheeks, watching as Michael himself remains distracted by adjusting his gold watch over his wrist.

‘God…’ Your muscles tense up from arousal as you eye Michael eagerly, letting a swarm of butterflies rush over you at the sight of him.

Michael’s dressed in a wine-red dress shirt with the first three buttons undone, no tie, black dress trousers, matching leather belt, and white socks.

If you’d missed the sight of him for a few seconds longer, you’d have already picked up on his heavenly sandalwood and musk cologne filling the living room only adding to your sexual tension when you see a peek of Michael’s chest hair from his dress shirt.

Michael’s hair appears slightly damp as if he’s showered recently but a light layer of gel shines through his black locks, neatly slicked back and parted from the middle.

It’s obvious Michael has no intention to be dressed for business and professionalism right here and now, but his appearance is still sharp, and cleans up very well.

Just as Michael finishes clasping his watch over his wrist, he makes direct eye contact with you.

Your heart races in your chest as you give him a shy smile back; hoping to yourself out of embarrassment Michael didn’t notice you gawking at him the entire time before he looked over at you.

Only the thought of what it would be like to be held in Michael’s arms, nuzzle his neck to pick up that scent of cologne so close to you before beginning to kiss his warm skin and lead down to his collarbones takes precedence over your mind.

You can’t stop yourself from fantasizing about the man right in front of you, thinking, ‘God, what I would do to…’ You picture yourself unbuttoning down the rest of Michael’s shirt to kiss and lick up his chest; gladly getting down on your knees right away to undo his belt.

Only a brief moment passes as Michael begins to button up his dress shirt at the sight of you for the sake of being professional and not coming off as sloppy although Michael himself would prefer to show you more as well.

Michael gives you an acknowledging nod back to your smile before he exits from the living room, but the scent of his cologne remains as if his presence is still in here and so does the lingering feeling in your heart.

You can practically feel your heart aching and the sensation growing heavier and heavier upon each confrontation and conversation; you can no longer stop yourself from feverishly desiring this man nor do you want to.

‘Stop, Marina. Just stop… You’re doing this to yourself.’

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperately trying to block out any thought and mention of Michael Corleone from your head for just one minute.

‘I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I did this to myself.’

~

[ 1 Day Before The Las Vegas Gala ]

Having wrapped up your last lesson before the Las Vegas gala, you spent the last bit of your day doing homework review with all your students to start with a new learning unit next week for everyone.

In the morning, you reviewed math and history worksheets with the Hagens and Sandra’s children, then had a private review session with Anthony as requested by his parents before now doing the same with Mary to end your day.

In the Corleone estate’s study room, you and Mary sit side by side at the center study desk, overviewing a math worksheet from earlier this week.

With the evening air setting in and light rain out, you can see the glisten of the compound’s security lights slowly rotating around the estates outside and enjoy the soft sounds of rain surrounding the estate.

“Anthony says it’s easy,” Mary pouts at the worksheet in front of her, looking at the multiplication homework.

“Maybe it’s easy for him, but not for everyone and that’s okay,” you give Mary a reassuring smile. “We all learn differently, don’t we?”

 “Hmm…” Mary peeks up at you, feeling somewhat relieved. “All the homework is easy for you, right Miss Marina?”

“You think it is?” A playful grin forms over your lips.

“Maybe,” Mary giggles, shrugging her shoulders. “Because you teach math really well.”

Unbeknownst to both of you, Kay made her way down the hallway and towards the study room just a few moments prior to pop her head in and take a peek as to how the homework review is going, only to remain in front of the ajar study door and out of sight instead.

Kay thinks to herself that she’ll enter the study room at the perfect moment and chime in on the topic of homework to see Mary’s progress face to face but without interrupting your review and explanations to Mary.

“Why thank you,” you give Mary a beaming smile, “I try my best, but believe it or not, I wasn’t very good at math when I was growing up.”

“Really?” Mary’s eyes widen in disbelief, “no way! How?”

Kay smiles, gazing at her daughter between the crack of the door as she continues listening in on the conversation, clasping her hands together in front of her.

“See,” you chuckle, “when it comes to a subject like math, once you know what you’re doing step by step, all the answers start to come to you and they begin to make sense. That’s why when we do multiplication homework like this,” you hold up the worksheet in your hands, “we like to see and write down all of the steps we took to get the answers for these numbers, right?”

“Right,” Mary nods, looking back at the worksheet.

“So it’s all about understanding and learning the steps first. Then you got it,” you set the worksheet back down on the desk, “and you already did so well on this, Mary. I’m proud of you. Even for the questions you got wrong here,” you gesture to the paper, “you tried, you put in the work and all your steps. That’s why we go through them now, right? So we can see where we made our mistakes and how we can correct them.”

“Yeah,” Mary giggles to herself. “It… It was fun!”

“Oh yeah?” Your eyes light up, “it was, wasn’t it? Maybe not so much the whole homework part, but—” both of you burst out laughing in unison. “But the learning was probably the most fun!”

“Learning with you, Miss Marina,” Mary adds, nodding happily.

Kay feels nothing but joy in her heart to see that sparkle in Mary’s eyes speaking for her enthusiasm and how she’s genuinely improving in her math lessons with you then and there.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” you can’t help the growing smile on your lips. “Actually, maybe you’re the first student to say that homework might be a little fun too!”

It’s when Mary exclaims, “Miss Marina is the best!” and gleefully leans in to give you a hug that the proud and joyful smile on Kay’s face begins to fade.

Kay moves her hand away from the study door, watching as you hug Mary back and say, “and you’re the best student!”

It’s not that Kay’s unable to show her own daughter affection or receive any in return—of course, Mary hugs her mother—but it’s the snuggling and the bubbly attitude of Mary’s she consistently keeps up with you and is more than comfortable in your presence is something Kay has had difficulty keeping up with her own children.

Feeling a sharp pain tugging at her and hating herself for letting a wholesome moment between student and governess hit this close to her own struggles, Kay bites down on the corner of her lip before turning back on her heel and walking away.

Mary and you haven’t noticed a thing, and it’ll only be another five minutes until the homework review is officially wrapped up and Mary skips off back to her room to get ready for bed.

As you begin to organize and tidy up the rest of your paperwork remaining on the desk, you hear a soft knock at the door and recognize that rhythm of knocking can only come from one person—Tom Hagen.

“Evening, Marina,” you hear Tom’s voice just a moment after. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” you look back towards the door, greeting Tom with a smile as he walks into the study and quietly shuts the door behind him.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tom says sheepishly, noticing the pile of paperwork over your desk.

“Definitely not,” you let out a soft laugh, pushing the paperwork in front of you toward the corner of the desk.

“Finishing up for the night?” Tom chuckles.

“Something like that,” you turn in your chair to face Tom.

“How do you feel about tomorrow afternoon?” Tom asks, shifting the conversation over to the Las Vegas gala as you expected him to.

Both of you exchange an understanding glance, knowing the conversation would come to this.

“Well…” You open your mouth to answer before pausing and remaining quiet for a moment as you ponder what to say back to Tom. “I can say I feel strongly towards it.”

“Mm,” Tom nods, smiling at the floor. “I thought so, which doesn’t sound like a bad thing coming from you. It is your first time traveling to and attending a gala, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you confirm. “I’m a little anxious about it but excited. You know, I’m sure that same excuse has been made a million times over, so,” you laugh quietly to yourself. “I don’t know.”

“Sure, but that’s normal,” Tom replies back. “It’s a formal gala and this one only takes place every few years, especially on the anniversary date for the Corleone family business in Reno and Las Vegas.”

“Did Michael send you?” You give Tom a small smile, thinking this may just be last-minute reassurance on Michael’s behalf since you don’t expect him to come into the study to talk with you one on one at this hour.

Only a split second later do you feel embarrassment wash over you, wondering why you just asked Tom that.

“No?” Tom blinks in confusion, “I thought I’d come to check in on you.”

“Don’t think me ungrateful, Tom,” you giggle, “I get it. I really appreciate it. I just thought Michael may have sent you because he’s essentially said the same to me.”

“Of course he did,” an amused grin forms over Tom’s lips. “Which is why he’d want me to tell you that if you do have any questions or concerns, Michael would want you to voice it to him directly, not to me or even through me.”

“That makes sense,” you blush, glancing away.

‘If it’s an excuse to see and talk to Michael, I’ll take it…’

“Michael as I can already guess,” Tom rolls his eyes before laughing to himself, “wants you to feel as comfortable and welcome at the gala as you do here. Still think he’s intimidating?”

You glance back at Tom and the two of you stare at each other for a moment before you both burst out laughing.

“No?” you say through your laughter, covering your mouth.

“I know, I know,” Tom holds his hands up in surrender. “I hate to word it that way, but I just had to ask. I know Michael can be when he wants to.”

“Maybe so,” you lean back in your seat, “but I don’t really see it. I’m getting to know Michael better and understanding the kind of man he is as I am with the rest of the family.”

“Good,” a look of relief crosses Tom’s expression. “Then that’s all you need, hmm? We take very good care of our own, Marina. You don’t have to take my word for it,” Tom puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers, smiling at you. “And Michael cares about you, don’t forget that.”

~

“Michael cares about you, don’t forget that.”

Tom’s words linger with you long after he’s retired for the evening, and only then do they sink in and you find yourself begging your heart not to overthink it again.

Relaxing your muscles against your seat, you let out a soft breath and gaze around the study room, feeling accomplished to have finished your work for the day, planned next week’s lessons upon your return from the gala, and have all of your paperwork in order.

You’ve had a productive day at the very least, leaving you only to think about how tomorrow will be.

You know Esther went to bed early tonight, exhausted from keeping up with the children and you don’t blame her, but it leaves you without anyone to confide in tonight.

You’re still in the Corleone manor’s study after all but until the pouring rain begins to still or at least return to a drizzle, you doubt you can make it across the compound and back to your room without risk of catching a cold and being completely soaked.

‘No rush…’ You nibble on your bottom lip, pushing thoughts of the Las Vegas gala aside to think about tomorrow when it truly matters.

Brushing a curtain of your hair behind your ear, you stretch out your arms and let out a soft grunt as you rise up from your seat—deciding to indulge in a novel for a bit as you wait for the rain to settle down.

You move towards the bookshelves, stopping in your tracks for a moment to look at the sheer amount of bookshelves and selections remaining before you.

There are well over a dozen bookshelves on both sides of the study, placed for ample room so several people can pick and choose from one bookshelf at a time and so the study neither appears looking overcrowded or empty.

On each bookshelf remains small gold engraved labels stating what genre of books are on what shelf, particularly the books labeled under “history” further specifying years leading to language guides, fiction novels, first edition classics, non-fiction, and much more.

You blink at the selection, pleasantly taken back from so many choices that you almost feel overwhelmed at the thought of picking one novel when you could very well spend an endless amount of time in this study if you wanted to.

You walk over to one of the history-labeled bookshelves neatly organized with pressed newspapers, file folders, and leather-covered books next to well-preserved documents when you notice a label on the top shelf reading “FAMILY”.

You pause, wondering if this is a private section and if you should even be touching t in the first place.

Your eyes continue to wander over newspapers and documents on the top shelf as you gently pick through them with your finger so as not to cinch or damage any of the paper.

Starting at the very left side of the top shelf, common sense tells you that if there’s anything on this shelf—let alone in this study—that you’re not allowed to access or see, it wouldn’t be here.

The first few newspaper articles you touch over mention “CRIME FAMILY” with names of mafia families you’ve heard of and those you haven’t.

The names “Barzini” and “Tattaglia” stand out to you first and foremost, with the articles always mentioning the phrases “criminal underworld”, “boss”, or “big shot” to describe what you assume to be top-ranking mafiosi or the Dons of the crime families themselves.

Many of the newspapers you come across are dating chronologically from the start of the 1930s to all throughout the 1940s, consistently mentioning crime, the FBI, cases gone cold, or how the police are trailing them but it’s not until you get to 1946 that shock suddenly hits you.

You pull out a newspaper article with the front page reading: "VITO CORLEONE FEARED MURDERED: POLICE HUNT GUNMEN".

On the left side of the front page is a black and white portrait of Don Vito Corleone—Michael’s late father and on the right side, a photograph of the police and paramedics carrying a grievously wounded Vito in a stretcher.

‘Oh my God.’ You quickly set that article aside to read before finding another following it also dated in 1946 reading “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” next to a third article reading “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER”.

Setting those two aside with the article about Vito Corleone, the next article dated in 1947 you take out reads “THIRD MONTH OF GANGLAND VIOLENCE”.

‘There’s a pattern here…’ Moving towards the end of the shelf, you notice the coloring of the newspapers change—lighter and newer than the old articles you picked out.

Picking out the most recent newspaper placed last on the shelf, you find a blush hitting your cheeks immediately and almost dropping the article from your hands at the sight of a large black and white portrait of Michael himself on the front page; “MICHAEL CORLEONE: BUSINESSMAN THROUGH CORLEONE LEGACY”.

Gazing at the photograph of Michael, your heart rate begins to race in your chest once more—accompanied by a dizzying wave of butterflies.

Taking that last newspaper with the others you picked out, you look out towards the window and continue to hear the thundering rain.

The study door remains closed as Tom left it and you can’t hear any approaching footsteps, but then again you aren’t doing something you shouldn’t be, even if it may be embarrassing to explain to someone why you’re reading all of these old articles.

Funny enough, the recent article of Michael dated a month back would make the most sense, but not the others in your hands that you’re curious to read and learn more about.

“I mafiosi non sono tuoi amici. Ti useranno e poi ti uccideranno.” (Don’t trust Mafiosi as we did. Mafiosi are not your friends; they’ll use you and then they will kill you.)

You remember your mother and father’s warning words to you after the deaths of your brothers as you take the newspaper articles back to your desk to read.

These articles are nothing but mafia territory and an explanation of it; you know very well who Don Vito Corleone was and the legacy behind the Corleone family, after all.

Taking a seat and leaning your arms down on the desk, you begin to read the article “VITO CORLEONE FEARED MURDERED: POLICE HUNT GUNMEN”.

The article reads that Vito Corleone was found shot five times in the chest at close range while he was out with his son Fredo Corleone at a local fruit market.

It’s mentioned that Vito fell to his suspected demise in front of witnesses and passersby near the fruit stand who fled in terror.

Fredo Corleone—Vito’s son and on scene—was reported to be terrified beyond words; in a state of shock, sobbing and helplessly wailing over what he believed to be his father’s corpse.

Fredo was found by the police covered in his father’s blood and pleading with the paramedics and police officers to help.

You clasp a hand over your mouth, disheartened by what you’re reading.

Fredo is Michael’s older brother and you’re bound to meet him tomorrow as well—hearing from Kay that Fredo’s been in Hollywood for the past two months with his wife, famous actress Deanna Dunn who will also attend the Las Vegas gala.

‘This must be Fredo…’ Flipping the page, you see a somewhat blurry photograph of Fredo sobbing on the sidewalk with his face in his hands as Vito Corleone is taken away in a stretcher by paramedics.

The rest of the article continues to describe Vito as a “hot shot underworld gangster”, although such terms aren’t unheard of to you, especially growing up in Hell’s Kitchen.

The suspected gunmen are being investigated—the article states—and Fredo was also hospitalized due to his state of shock.

Lastly, before the article comes to an end, it mentions Vito Corleone is reported to be in critical condition and it’s not certain if he will make it or not.

The newspaper ends by saying this may be the start of violence as you or anyone else reading this article could have figured out since it’s all too common for full-blown mob wars to start when someone chooses to target a Don.

‘That’s a complete declaration of war, but were the police truly investigating?’ You assume that Vito must have had the police on his payroll for that to even take place.

‘And what about “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER”?’ At first glance of the front pages, you don’t recognize any correlation from the two newspapers but from their placement alone on the bookshelf, you know they must be related somehow.

As you read through both—comparing and contrasting dates and events noted in the articles as you go—you realize the dates of each article are just a week apart.

“POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” was almost stuffed between “POLICE HUNT COP KILLER” on the shelf and revealed all of these events occurred within a week of each other.

The articles tell you that at a small, family-owned, Italian-American restaurant called Louis Restaurant, police Captain Mark McClusky was killed.

The article details that McClusky was shot once in the neck and then in the forehead at very close range and that he had been with a businessman named Virgil Sollozzo who was dining with him.

Sollozzo was also killed alongside McClusky; shot twice in the head which is suspected to be immediately after McClusky and both perished together at the dining table.

“My God,” you mumble to yourself, blinking at the headlines.

Naturally, it makes sense to you that one of the Corleone men—most likely a buttonman considering the stakes and killings done in a public restaurant—must have done this.

‘Does it have anything to do with Vito Corleone being shot? It must be. It has to be for revenge.’

When your eyes gloss over the next newspaper article reading “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” immediately tells you this police Captain McClusky himself was directly involved with the mafia and the dates can only further reveal it must have been either for Barzini or Tattaglia.

Those are the only two mafia families you’ve heard of that have corrupted themselves with smuggling and selling narcotics and you can already guess what a wide-scale scandal this headline must have created.

It makes all the more sense why a man like McClusky and Sollozzo would both be killed, especially together.

If it’s one thing you know about the mafia, it’s that they will not kill an innocent person deliberately; considering the mafia family at hand upholds Sicilian mafioso traditions and customs.

Mafia families have no room to appear anything less than decent and proper, lest they risk exposing their own corruption and members to law enforcement and the public eye.

With two shots in the head a piece—just like how your brothers were gunned down—you know Sollozzo wasn’t collateral damage; he was a target just as much as McClusky was.

Picking up the article titled “MICHAEL CORLEONE: BUSINESSMAN THROUGH CORLEONE LEGACY”, you sigh in relief to see the article has nothing to do with the others you’ve read.

Dated just a month ago, the up close and personal portrait of Michael on the front page has your heart racing and begging for you to stop gazing upon it again and again.

Turning the page, you immediately begin to read the article that explains to you how Michael Corleone, son of underworld bigshot Vito Corleone is a successful businessman on his own terms and by his own hard work and gain.

Vito Corleone himself may have been infamous but was also a respected man, and aside from generational wealth, Michael further gained a positive and lucrative reputation and opportunity for the Corleone family following Vito’s death.

Unlike Vito, the newspaper states Michael does not involve himself in bookmaking, racketeering, or other forms of crime found brewing n the mafia’s hand but invests in businesses, stocks, casinos, hotels, and resorts.

The article also names that the most successful and booming hotel resorts owned by the Corleones are the biggest ones in Reno and Las Vegas and that the Corleone family plans to continue expanding.

Michael’s stated to be very successful in all of the best ways possible building off of his father’s legacy, and is also noted to be a multi-millionaire who married his college sweetheart—a woman named Kay Adams Corleone—in 1951.

With the mere mention of “college sweetheart” alone, you find yourself frowning without even being aware of it—once again feeling a sting of jealousy hit you.

Reading past the part that says Michael and Kay have two children with each other, you’re just about to set the newspaper down and organize all of them to put them back on the shelf when you notice you left one article aside without touching it.

The last newspaper you set out has a bold headline reading “THIRD MONTH OF GANGLAND VIOLENCE” and when you pick it up, it details that over three months of violence ensued between the Corleones, Tattaglias, and Barzinis but even the newspaper has worded such “conflict” in a crafty way so as not to state it explicitly.

This article appears to be the next one chronologically dated after “POLICE CAPTAIN LINKED WITH DRUG RACKETS” and stresses that a bloody mafia war has cost the families in lives and millions with no sign of stopping or being sidetracked.

It’s only when you reach the very end of the article do your eyes widen in shock as you clasp a hand over your mouth.

The last bit states the eldest son of Vito Corleone and his protegee—Santino Corleone—was assassinated by what is suspected to be the Barzini family.

“Jesus…” You remember Tom briefly mentioning Santino, his, Fredo’s, and Michael’s eldest brother but from the looks of the article, it’s very apparent to you that Santino was a full-on mafioso and completely involved in all activities of the family.

You know you should have no pity in your heart for the death of any mafioso, but you can’t help yourself but feel empathy for Santino Corleone’s death even though you’ll never meet him or understand the man he was behind his criminal activities.

‘He was a Corleone too, after all.’

Finally setting down all of the newspapers before you in a neat pile, you take a deep breath and rub your sore eyes.

Your gaze meets up with the locked door of the study once more as you mentally remind yourself that you’re not doing anything “wrong” or “snooping” but that what you just did actually benefit you in learning more about the Corleone family on your own terms.

Everything you’ve just read may have explained the bloody mafia history behind the Corleone family name amidst others, but nothing shows you Michael is or was ever involved.

The article revolving around Michael practically sings of his praises, saying Michael is a young, witty, and cunning businessman who holds the reigns of the Corleone family and leads it to success.

Yet again, you have no second thoughts about Michael, no doubts in your heart about his integrity or honesty and you believe and trust in Michael to be a good person.

You want him to be and you trust him to be, just the way you trust Michael to show you that side of him to you tomorrow.

~

[ Next Morning ]

With the excitement ringing through the compound coming from the Corleone women up early to have bodyguards and chauffeurs begin packing their bags, you momentarily went into a panic thinking you must have slept into the afternoon.

Recognizing it Sandra, Connie, and Kay’s anticipation put them in a rush to get packed and ready, the first thing you do in the morning after refreshing in the bathroom and pulling on a simple shirtwaist dress is putting your one piece of luggage outside and next to Kay’s three to be loaded into one of the cars.

By the time you’re out to set your luggage down, Kay and the others are back in shouting hairstyle and makeup suggestions back and forth to each other to get it all done before the afternoon.

You smile to yourself, turning around and squinting your eyes up at the warm sun soaking over your skin. You know you won’t be spending half as much time getting glammed up for a plane ride to Vegas and that you’ve got ample time in your day to get ready.

Just as you’re about to turn back on your heel and head back to your living quarters to properly begin to get ready you hear Michael’s velvety voice calling for you from behind.

“Good morning, Marina,” you hear Michael speak as you stop in your tracks and suddenly you feel almost bare and hardly semi-presentable before him.

‘Oh my God.’ With instant reaction, your muscles clench from arousal in the presence of Michael—eagerly gazing at the new tailored, three-piece, black and silk Italian suit he’s wearing; black silk tie and gold cufflinks.

Michael’s hair is gelled back and parted through the middle neatly; not a single hair loose nor a wrinkle in his suit with all the awareness you’re not able to get your eyes off of him even if you wanted to.

“I hope you slept well,” Michael’s eyes meet yours as you turn around to face him; briefly admiring your natural beauty under the glowing rays of the sun.

‘This man… I swear.’

“Michael,” you breathe back, smiling at him. “As well as I could. I hope you have as well.”

Michael gives you a nod before gesturing his hand towards a bodyguard approaching from the other end of the compound, pointing towards your luggage in specific—not Kay’s or Connie’s.

“Thank you,” you whisper to the bodyguard who gives you an acknowledging glance before taking your luggage to pack next.

“It doesn’t hurt to be proactive and pack for this afternoon, however,” Michael glances back towards his and Kay’s estate. “Rest assured we’re still leaving at our planned time; no sooner, no later.”

“Right,” you chuckle. “I was just going to head back and get ready my—”

“ANTHONY! Anthony!” You hear Kay cry out from the estate in a hurry. “Sweetheart, don’t forget your tie! It’s not put on right! Come here, please.”

“Well,” Tom’s voice chimes in as he exits from the Corleone estate. “At this rate, we’ll all be ready by the afternoon. Hi, Marina.”

“Hi, Tom,” you give him a small wave, “are two cars taking us?”

“That’s right,” Michael nods.

“We might actually be back in three if…” Tom cringes, giving a short shrug. “If Fredo is bringing Deanna back to stay with us for a bit.”

Although you can tell Tom is more than just mildly irritated by the idea, you see Michael’s expression hardens at his suggestion but he doesn’t react further.

“Not something you look forward to?” You break the momentary silence falling in between you three.

“Uh,” Tom scratches the back of his neck, “I suppose not. Miss Dunn can be a handful and well, so can Fredo sometimes. You’ll see.”

Michael takes a step closer towards you before you three look back up towards the Corleone estate to see the front door burst open and Anthony snickering, rushing out with a loose tie over his neck and a helpless Kay following after him.

“Anthony, seriously!” Kay huffs, “Anthony, this isn’t funny! Get back here!”

‘Ah, Anthony…’

You notice as Tom grins and gestures towards Anthony. “Kid’s full of energy, what can you do? I’ll get him for you, Kay.”

“Thank you, Tom,” Kay sighs in relief, looking back over at Michael who redirected his gaze to yours almost immediately.

“Marina?”

“Yes?” The scarlet blush over your cheeks deepens.

“Walk with me,” he gestures, turning his back on Kay and the estate.

Nodding, you walk up closer to Michael and remain by his side as he leads you away from his estate and further back toward your living quarters, barely having acknowledged Kay in the midst of all that.

Kay blinks in confusion, watching Michael and you walk away together but from the exhaustion of keeping up with Anthony and hearing Mary calling back to her whining a bow fell out of her hair, Kay can’t keep her thoughts straight and think much else of it.

Michael doesn’t need to pull you away or talk to you privately, he simply prefers to.

“You’ve packed everything you need?” He finally asks you once you’re both away from anyone else’s hearing distance.

“Mhmm, everything’s good to go,” you reply back.

“There will be something else when you arrive at your hotel suite in Vegas,”  Michael tells you.

“Something else…?” Your eyes begin to widen with curiosity.

“You’ll see when you get there,” Michael makes direct eye contact with you. “Kay tells me you have everything you two ordered…”

‘Ordered. You were the one who picked out that dress for me…’

“It’ll be ready in your suite as well when you arrive.” Michael finishes his sentence. “That’s all.”

‘What?’

“Right,” you nod back—the smile on your lips growing. “And thank you again for that, Michael. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You can thank me by wearing it,” Michael replies—surprising you with his response instead of saying “You don’t need to” or something similar when he hears you thanking him again and again. “I want to see you in it tonight.”

“Of course…” From Michael’s words alone, the arousal pumping through you feels as if your pussy has a heartbeat of its own despite your mind begging you not to take Michael’s words the way your body craves to.

“Is there anything else I can do to make your experience more comfortable?” Michael asks, putting his hands in the pockets of his trousers as you begin to approach your living quarters.

“I’m sure there’s a million more questions I’d like to ask but none of them come to mind,” you admit, sheepishly. “Knowing me.”

“Then as I’ve requested, stay close with me tonight,” Michael comes to a stop, facing you. “And then I’ll know.”

“I…” Blushing furiously, you give your head a small shake. “I know we talked about this and—”

“We did,” Michael reaffirms. “But I’m no longer suggesting it or offering it to you. I’m asking you to do it.”

“Wouldn’t Mrs. Corleon—”

“Forget Kay,” Michael interrupts, looking sternly into your eyes. “This has nothing to do with her. I want you there with me tonight, understood?” With your heart beginning to pound in your chest, you hardly have a moment to reply back to Michael before he adds, lowering his tone to a soft, ushered one, “Knowing you, I don’t know where else you’d want to be.”

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #the other woman fic #the other woman fanfic

[giowritess]

WORKS IN PROGRESS

fortnight

benny miller x f!reader | on-going mini series | fake dating; fluff; smut

weaker

michael corleone x f!reader || smut

FUTURE

will miller x f!reader || smut; reader is the younger sister of will’s best friend; age gap

rick flag x f!reader || smut; sorta enemies to lovers, flag is her superior and reader is a brat

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x f!reader ‘starboy’ || maybe im gonna continue this one im not sure; smut; reader is jake’s former enemy with benefits and they can’t stand each other

bucky barnes x f!reader || smut, requested

i would LOVE to get any requests for any of these characters:

javier pena

will and benny miller

michael corleone

aaron hotchner

rick flag

bucky barnes

andy barber

#giowritess #benny miller smut #benny miller fanfiction #will miller fanfiction #will miller smut #triple frontier #rick flag smut #rick flag x reader #suicide squad fanfiction #works in progress #send me requests #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds fanfiction #raymond leon smut #bucky barnes smut #andy barber smut #javier pena smut #michael corleone writing #michael corleone smut

[areaderinlove]

kinktober

alr yall ik i have some requests that i still didn’t make but i want to participate as much as i can in kinktober even though october is going to be shit cause i have reset exams but anyways give me your request and lemme tell you ill do my best 

#anthony bridgerton fanfic #anakin imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #frank castle imagine #michael corleone x reader #darkling x reader #natasha phoenix tracenatasha romanoff #marc spector smut #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #pete maverick mitchell #carlos sainz jr imagines #carlos sainz jr smut #bran stark imagine #jon snow imagine #daemon targaryen imagine #ser harwin strong #kinktober #requests

[chaosfae-writes]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞

summary: sometimes love can only be felt from afar.

warnings: angst, one-sided pining, minor invasion of privacy, voyeurism, smut, possessive Michael.

pairing: Michael Corleone x poc!reader

a/n: For @melis-writes for inspiring me to write for the Godfather, this is for you babes! <3 the reader is half-poc, half Silcian, this is a little ooc from canon because I’m a woman of color, please let me just live my Michael Corleone dreams in peace. The word g*psy is mentioned, I don’t condone the slur, it’s used from an actual quote from The Godfather.

do not repost my works.

The pitter patters of little feet dash.

Small giggles echo throughout the Tahoe home, accompanied by heavier steps following behind.

Playful monster growls, fingers curled into makeshift claws, hunching over — Fredo runs after his three-year-old nephew, Sebastian.

Not too far from the boy, in case he needs to catch the child who is still learning how to walk.

The waddling toddler bounces on his little feet, arms in mid-air, instinctively running to the shared master bedroom of his parents. Cautious feet turn the corner of the hallway, akin to a penguin, Sebastian wobbles through the bedroom door.

“Sebastian, I’m going to get ya’!” Faux menacing growls causing the little one to squeal, as he crawls under the bed, not stifling his laughs all too well.

Chubby little fingers covering his mouth, his little gummy smile.

Fredo tries to tame his voice as his other little nephew, Vincenzo, is napping in his crib. An atomic bomb can fall from the sky and the infant would still be in his deep sleep.

Fredo follows the path his little nephew ran, slipping through the ajar open bedroom door, humming to himself mischievously, tapping his chin as if he’s deep in thought.

“Now where can little Sebastian be?” Childish giggles can be heard from underneath the bed.

“Oh where, oh where can Sebastian be?” Fredo dramatically announces, his arms extend wide as a theatrical jester.

Fredo walks to the closet, pretending to finally catch the little Coreleone, with an ‘ah ha!’, opening the closet doors wide open. Fredo’s hums with an impressed flair.

“Hmm, not in the closet.” Fredo twirls around at his feet, and stops mid-way, making sure his feet are seen at the hem of the quilt, by Sebastian, in the dead center of the bed.

Fredo hums again thoughtfully, tapping the toe of his shoe against the flooring — Fredo kneels down hastily, lifting the hem of the bed sheet.

“There you are!”

Sebastian squeals loudly, trying to worm away, but Fredo catches him with ease, playfully dragging him out from under the bed by his chubby little legs; but under Fredo’s nose, a clamor of an object is tousled.

It doesn’t register with his mind — he’s too enamored with Sebastian’s babbling.

As Fredo tickles his nephew, his mind wanders off into a train of thought. His finger ceases with the ticklish assault, a weight of self-deprecation settles upon his crown.

Fredo pauses for a moment, staring at his happily gurgling nephew —- a spitting image of his father, Michael’s twin in the flesh, jet black hair that curls at his ears, those wide rich brown eyes, and olive skin.

The mannerisms, and the precious furrowed brow, whenever Sebastian is deep in thought.

In his arms, Fredo holds his future successor, his reign was casted further below the familial tree, among the awaiting heirs when the boys were conceived.

Now another heir is to be born in six months, a third child you carry. The family hopes for another boy — the three sons, three little Michaels.

Sebastian grabs Fredo’s nose, bringing him back to reality. Fredo chuckles, kissing Sebastian’s forehead. Just as he fully brings his nephew up to his chest, something scatters by Fredo’s feet.

A black leather bound journal scattered across the flooring, finally catching Fredo’s eye. Cradling his nephew against his chest, he debates if he should even dare.

Curiously, he leans the balls of his feet, cautiously his hand hovers over it — debating if he should pry it open.

But the intrusiveness that weighs on his shoulders is becoming heavier and heavier until it cracks his spine. Snatching the journal from the floor, Fredo tucks it under his armpit, as he guides little Sebastian by the hand to his room for a nap.

-

August, 1957

Michael is returning home, and my soul can rest once more. The idea of letting Michael travel unsettles me, the hunger of our enemies is always ready in the shadows.

I’m terrified of losing him, that somehow an enemy manages to kill Michael. What would I do without him? A life without him would be nothing but grief —- the black veiled widow crouching in the farthest church’s pew, weeping for her lost love.

I refuse to become that; I will fight alongside my husband, even if he’s foaming at the mouth, raving that I shouldn’t put myself in harm’s way. To just be his lover, and the mother of his children —- his heirs to his throne.

No —- when I spoke my vows, it’s for better or worse. I grew up in this lifestyle — the family must stick together, and regardless of the misconception of the don being a lone wolf, he is not.

My Michael isn’t alone —- he has me.

But some nights, dark thoughts clutter my mind, moments of confusion, and despair —- what if Michael doesn’t need me as much as I need him? Michael isn’t invincible, he’s only human — what will become of my children and I?

Go back to Italy? My sons are far too young, barely walking —- would we even live in Tahoe still?

To lose Michael, is like losing a piece of me —- I wouldn’t know who I am.

Who am I?

How would I protect my children? Flee back to Italy? Hide away in my father’s villa home?

Fredo pauses, crouching over in his seat, alone in his guest room, neck deep in your personal entries. His fingertip tracing the loops of your elegant cursive, kissing the pages; kissing the dried tear droplets, and the smeared lipstick stains.

Inhaling the scent of your soft sun kissed perfume and woven stitched leather.

He can feel the ache of your lonely childhood, from the early entries of your proposed marriage that was once crafted by his father and yours, to loving Michael and how God arranged the fate in a peculiar fashion.

Fredo can recall the wedding — a spectacular Roman Catholic wedding, your bridal dress silky and long. How the lace veil fell upon your cherub face.

He nearly threw up, if he could he would’ve snatched you off the altar and drove off — never looking back.

To the worries of your marriage through each entry, Michael’s possessive nature, or maybe he won’t survive the next day; your poems entrance him.

It only makes his heart yearn for you more.

I would protect you.

-

The kids are down for a nap, little Vincenzo arose earlier, Fredo fed him a prepared bottle of milk you put away before leaving, played with the infant for a few hours, and then the little one slept again.

As Fredo sits alone, your journal is still in his grasp, reading, savoring every written word — faint gravel can be heard from outside.

Fredo’s head turns, through the transparent curtain, he can see the slick black vehicle coming towards the home.

In a sprint, Fredo closes your journal, putting it back in its original resting spot underneath the bed, and dashing down the stairs in a haste.

Fredo halt’s at a mirror in the hallway, his open palms slicking back his silky hair, and shuffling his shirt back in place — to look his best.

The car parks in the driveway. Fredo watches through the kitchen window, hiding behind the curtain. Peering shyly as if he dares to unveil himself more behind the curtain, he would be caught.

Caught admiring from afar, the way a man shouldn’t for a married woman.

One of Michael’s guards quickly opens the back door, holding your hand securely as your other palm is protectively around your bump.

As you try to gather more than one bag, the guard helps hold brown bags of groceries into the home; away from your grasp.

Fredo quickly dashes to the kitchen, opening the back door, hands frantic. His chest becomes excited to see your bubbly smile, as the driver trails behind you with both arms occupied.

The door swings open, Fredo boldly stands there, trying to compose his composure; a titter of a surprised giggle escapes your lips.

“Hi, Fredo.” Such a warm greeting.

Fredo quickly takes the brown bag from you, guiding you into the kitchen — even helping you take off your trench coat. The guard is not too far behind — ever so observant, ever so quiet.

“Thank you for watching the boys.”

Apologies for taking so long at the market slips from your lips, but Fredo doesn’t mind at all — just idly staring at your mouth. Fredo mumbles that it’s okay, he enjoyed his time with the boys. Shiny dark brown hair, brushed smoothly as the end of your hair is coiled into bouncy curls, soft pink painted lips, and your maternity dress hugging your body snug.

You always said in moments of frustration on some days, often calling yourself a parade float, hormones to blame, but to Fredo, you were perfect.

A motherly glow.

“No worries, we were playing all afternoon.”

Fredo joins you in putting away the groceries, a pleasant silence falls that doesn’t need to be filled with chatter. It’s comfortable. Your own personal bodyguard takes his place in the foyer, after you shush him off, telling him it’s okay to relax, and take a break.

Washing and putting away vegetables, along with cartons of milk, wrapped up meats and fish, canned juice, and fruits in the fridge; boxes of pasta are put away in the cabinets.

It’s comfortable — domestic, even.

Dusting your hands against each other, idly watching Fredo stack up the last of the boxed goods, a tender smile curls at your mouth.

“Would you like to join me for lunch?” You spoke sweetly, Fredo turned his face over his shoulder, with a toothy grin.

“I would love to.”

-

The sun has settled beyond the horizon, and the night has come to full bloom. Dinner has been served, the kids played around with Fredo, and yourself — as much as you could, with a swollen bump.

Played house games, and watched television with popcorn. The boys were bathed, swathed and loved till it was bedtime.

You sit in the master bedroom, cradling your bump, as you prepare to dress down to more comfortable sleep gown for the night.

Humming to yourself, digging inside your drawer for your silk nightie.

Faintly the front door opens and closes, it echoes dully against the stretched lavish home; you pause with baited breath. Hands frozen, as you await. Hushed chatter downstairs, you can make out the guard’s voice and his.

Dull footfalls crawl up the stairs, as you slowly turn your body away from the dresser. Out of an anxious habit, your hands caress your swelled bump, a shaky smile forms at your mouth. The sounds of feet come closer from the hallway — to a stop to the bedroom door.

A breath hitches at your throat, as the door knob slowly turns. A subtle creek of the opening door, as if time slowed down to a stand-still. Your ears heat up in anticipation.

He’s home.

Michael stands at the door, his hands in his pockets; under his watchful eyes, a tender smile curls. His cold eyes now soften, his shoulders relax.

Every fiber of your body yearns for him, and it makes your heart warm that Michael only shows his true self — in quiet moments, when the world disappears, Michael expresses his affections, comfort and vulnerability.

Only to you and his babies.

Michael walks to you, quietly, his eyes roaming your body, the changes of motherhood has bestowed you a glow, and more plumpness to the flesh of your curves. Your breasts swelled with milk for his children, your hips wider, thighs are more detectable.

Shyly you take small footsteps to him, both of you relishing the sacred shared space — finally, he’s back home.

His hands gently touch your cheeks, as if you were a precious jewel, his eyes are kinder, as he stares at you.

A soft kiss on your forehead, feathery to the touch, earning a hitched gasp in your throat; another to your cheek, his intoxicating breath fanning your touch starved skin.

And finally his plump pink lips hover just hairs over your mouth, his tongue daring to peek through the cages of his teeth — you’re desperate, a pant as you flick his parted mouth with yours.

Tantalizing, teasing one another, eyes never wavering from each other — relishing in radiating body heat.

Your fingers softly trace the bridge of his Roman nose, trailing to his cupid bow, to his pink full lips, Michael’s lips kiss gently. His eyes never waver from yours, his hands fondle your thighs, gliding upward the terrain of your waist, caressing the stretched skin of your ample bump.

The unspoken silence falls softly, now just inches apart from each other; as Michael’s fingertips graze your cheek, the warmth pacifies you, as he engulfs your jaw with his open palm.

His fingers glide the slope of your neck, caressing the nape of your neck, by his tender grip pulls you into a kiss. It’s passionate — desperate even, your arms wrap around his neck.

Michael’s arm wraps around your waist gently, not too firm to crush your growing belly — open mouth kisses, his warm wet tongue licks against yours, moaning into each other’s mouths. Your fingers roving messily in his inky black hair, soft tufts, and pulls.

Michael can feel your pulse under his thumb, thumping with a rush. The pang of lust hits your clit, as Michael suckles your bottom lip.

“I need you,” you whisper between kisses, “I need to feel you.” Whining, as your nails scratch his scalp — a deep low growl emits from Michael, “My sweet wife, I’ve neglected you for too long.” He spoke upon your wanting mouth.

His lips graze gently against your lips, hovering as his warm breath engulfs, sending tingles through the atoms of your flesh. The kisses are becoming erratic, more sloppy, as Michael’s teeth trail with open wet kisses, to the juncture of your jaw.

Nibbling and suckling, the curve of your neck, as your mound ignites hotly. Two bodies melting into each other, becoming one once more.

-

It’s late.

Fredo sits in isolated silence, with a glass of whiskey held by the tips of his fingers. Staring into the window view, memorized by the rippling night waters of Lake Tahoe.

Fredo often goes to bed with you on his mind, the only comfort that eases him amidst the chaos of his. When he needs to remind himself of the silver lining of living, he doesn’t get on his knees like his mother with a rosary woven between her fingers, head bowing in prayer — he thinks of your face.

But he should get on his knees, for God blessing a pathetic man as himself, that God let him know you, to have you in his family — even though you were married to Michael.

Instead of marrying a good woman like you, Fredo surrounded himself with easy women, bad partners who left bad taste in the mouths of his family.

American women with big breasts and big mouths to match, and thirsty livers. From getting two waitresses at a time to being married to a washed up broad who cheated on him, to then seeking hollow affections from showgirls, blur of alcohol bottles, bare breasts, and emptying himself inside their wombs with his seed — strings of raw fun nights to only end with the cold shoulder, and doctor Jules Segal’s speciality.

Often looked down upon for his reckless appetites, but making up for the slack of strength with charm, and burdened with insignificant family business deals, a tactic his father did to keep his middle child preoccupied for years.

Ridiculed for being the weakest link of three sons, the runt of the litter; for the lack of his father’s approval the more he weaned on his mother’s tit.

But it always begins at the mothers, this cycle of self-abuse, letting women inflict him; it always starts with the mothers.

His mother had this running joke, ‘You don’t belong to me. You were left on the doorstep by gypsies.’

A caricature of a man.

So easily dominated by women he places on a pedestal, only moments of tiresome rage does he assert himself — but it wasn’t enough to heal that fractured ego, and masculinity.

Starving people will eat the love they think they deserve — Fredo is starved, yet ill at the core.

Coddled by his own baby brother, from the outsider’s eye, it would seem that Michael was the older sibling, and Fredo being the youngest — a pang of spite strikes Fredo everytime. For years, when he’s alone, Fredo would stare at the ceiling, and ask God what is his purpose?

Was his existence just a spite towards his father? To be the stepping stool for his brothers?

Tears sheen his eyes, blinking back as droplets kiss his lashes, sniffling as he sits in his desolated state — you never pitied him. Always a shoulder for him to cry on, moments of conversations, your light humor on life is always refreshing.

You never spoke to him in a condescending manner, only spoke warmly to him. Your melodic voice trances him, fantasizing in his mind as he touches himself late at night.

Instinctive motherly doting, you’ve helped Fredo even in his most disgusting moments. Helped him sober up when he was a drunken mess, conversed with him on anything, never running out of interests.

Imagining you riding on top of him, legs split apart his torso, your warm cunt wound tight, clenching him for dear life — your delicate hands resting upon his chest, as his fingers dig into your bare cheeks, guiding your hips. Your sepia skin glistening with a sheen of dew.

Fredo scoffs, covering his hot face in shame, breathing heavily. He slams the glass on the table side desk, his chest heaving, as his length grows hard and wanton in his unbuckled pants. Wringing his chin by the fingers, he mentally berates himself for thinking such filthy thoughts of his sister-in-law.

These past few days have been a dream for him, while Michael was away in New York conducting business, Fredo and yourself were here with Sebastian, and Vincenzo.

Just the four of you, eating dinner together, boat riding round the lake, playing games around the house, late night conversations — being a family.

Playing house with a woman wedded to his brother, but he couldn’t help but delve into a fantasy of himself being your husband. That the wedding ring resting on your marital finger was the one he picked out for you, that this is your shared cabin home together, and Sebastain was his son.

A fantasy detached from reality to pacify him.

It made him think of his own son, wondering what has become of him, who’s taking care of him —- what would life have been if he had taken in his only child. Fredo knows he wouldn’t be able to take care of a kid, he’s only ever the uncle, never father material.

He can’t even take care of himself.

The swirling eels of envy crawl in his guts, hissing at Michael —- Michael is the don of the family, Michael got the beautiful perfect wife, the perfect children, the perfect home with a lake to match; and what does Fredo have?

A washed-up ex-wife, a string of meaningless affairs, self-depreciation, and a tainted reputation all under his belt.

A forgotten son — just as his lost heir, lost to the world.

Fredo shuts his eyes, his nose scrunches, as his eyes are wound tight, wrinkling in despair. Stinging droplets of tears cascade down his cheeks.

-

Skin against skin, limbs woven as one, sheets ruffle under thrusting hips; Michael’s huskily moans in your ear, making your thigh quiver.

His cheek against yours, his tongue finds its home once again in the crock of neck, as your hand is sloped around his waist, holding onto his tailbone, fingertips digging into his waist — guiding him harder inside you.

Your wet cunt sloshes, your ass jiggling against his pelvis, his cock deep to the hilt, as you’re split in half for him. Your leg is looped over his thigh, Michael ravishing you, as his arm is protectively over your belly.

Michael’s teeth nibble at the shell of your ear, whispering praises hotly, as your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Nearly squeaking when Michael’s thrust his wet cock at your g-spot — splitting your velvety mound, his balls softly hitting your swollen clit.

Soft growls emit from Michael’s throat, he needed this — needed your body for so long. Michael’s husky and warm breath hisses in your ear. Michael’s warm tongue licks the slope of your throat, suckling a wet open kiss, as his hips thrust without mercy — as if he was trying to impregnate you once more.

“You’re so beautiful like this, wet, and moaning just for me.” Michael’s whispers, “My little wife,” his fingers caress and stroke against your soaked cunt, his fingers scratching at the sensitive skin. “Mewling like a kitten, she’s purring just for me.”

“I’m going to cum–” You nearly shrill, as your gasps for air blow softly against the wisps of messy hair, scattered and tousled from Michael pulling on it earlier.

It’s painful yet so good, to feel his cock pistoning inside you; Michael snarling as he nears emptying his balls inside of you.

“Cum on my cock, let me feel you soak me.”

Airy moans, and gasps echo within the lavish bedroom, silk sheets wrinkled, and mangled as two bodies melt together — as a lone eye peeks through the cracked bedroom door.

Hiding away, peeking through the crack of the bedroom door, a lone teary eye watches one — Fredo nearly vomits, swallowing the bile down harshly.

It’s wrong to stare, but he can’t help but yearn to be in Michael’s position. Hearing your mewling is a symphony to his ears, his skin shivers.

His fingers itching to hold you — he looks away, silently stepping away, how disgusted he is of himself. Waves of shame fall upon him.

-

It’s been three days since Michael has returned home — and Fredo can’t stand it. As if his teeth gnawed on the thick tension of jealousy.

An itch of hurt swells in him, feeling abandoned by you, as you tend to Michael. Fredo knows deep down he can’t feel this resentment toward his brother, Michael is your husband, you haven’t seen him in so long.

As a loving wife, it’s within your right to be dutiful.

It drives him mad.

Fredo’s in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink, accompanying his glass is a pastry you bought from the market the other day.

Busy buzzing in his mind — too deep his thoughts — his brow etched in a frown, he didn’t hear a creak in the flooring, or timid steps nearing the kitchen. Slender fingers slither against his torso, tickling him in surprise, Fredo nearly yelps; a melodic giggle brings his heart back down.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” You chuckle, you awh at Fredo’s frizzled state, he resembles a spooked cat with spiky fur that aligns its arched spine. Fredo smiles, shaking his head, trying to restrain himself from your intoxicating touch.

“It’s okay.” Fredo hums, his cheeks a bit warm now. “Just getting a snack,” a glass of whiskey and a pastry —- the ideal late night snack.

“What are you doing up?” Fredo’s palms hold onto your forearms, “You should be in bed.” Fredo towers over you, as you lean against him comfortably, you breathe a chuckle.

“You and Michael are such mother hens,” you extend your chin at Fredo, playfully pouting at him, slightly stepping on your toes. “I’m alright, the baby hasn’t slowed me down just yet.”

Fredo admires the dim glow of the kitchen light gleaming on your brown skin — it shines with no blemishes, as his eyes lower to trace your heart-shaped lips.

Is this what a sin feels like? Deliciously, intoxicating, how Fredo wants to taste you right on the kitchen counter — shower your baby bump with kisses, suckle your heavy breasts into the cave of his mouth.

He’s burning up inside. You gingerly lay your head on his chest, hugging him, Fredo softly kisses your forehead, “Well, someone has to take care of you. Watch you like a hawk.” You hug Fredo in a bear embrace, you haven’t been able to spend time with him, or have a simple conversation.

For the past few days, your mind has been preoccupied with taking care of the children, and tending to Michael; or when you do see Fredo, he’s in Michael’s office — the both of them locked away discussing business that you weren’t privy to.

You adore Fredo, the sweetest brother you’ve had, you never had a brother — you always wished to have one as protective and caring as he is.

You mutter under your breath, as you hug Fredo “Well I’ve missed my hawk.” Fredo’s arms swallows you in his embrace, his cheek now resting on your dome.

You notice there's scattered playing cards on the dining room table, “What are you playing?” You point to the cards, and Fredo’s head moves from your head.

“I was just playing some solitaire, just to pass the time.”

“I love solitaire!”

“Would you like to play a game?” Fredo has a toothy smile, ready to snatch any chance to spend some time with you.

Your hands mindlessly rub your belly, humming, “I think I might be a boring player.” You chuckle, tucking your chin to your chest, scrunching your lips in embarrassment.

“Rummy is the only card game I know.” You say, shyly rubbing your belly, worried that your limited knowledge is boring for Fredo, knowing that he must have had more fun over the years at Vegas, but it doesn’t dim Fredo’s excitement.

“No, no, I love rummy!” He stammers, a toothy smile stretches on his face, holding the box of cards against his chest.

You tuck your chin, shyly nodding, “Okay, but I will warn you, I have a pretty good hand.” You tease, easing yourself into the seat, your hands protectively cupping your bump.

-

Four rounds in, and it’s finally a stand-still.

In your palm, you hold four variations of sevens, one jack of diamonds, a queen of diamonds and a ten of hearts. Just one more card, and you can win.

But so can he.

Playful eyes squint over your hand, as Fredo tries to play off a stoic poker face — purposely letting the stoic mask slip, with a dramatic pursed pout that successfully earns giggles from you.

He has a consistent string of club cards: 1234, along with a queen of hearts, a jack of hearts, a lone eight of spades.

Fredo suspects you have the card he needs, he’s trying to brainstorm a plan to get you to drop it to the pile of discarded cards.

Fredo hums, making the choice to pick up a card and drop the eight. With a swift pluck of the card, Fredo discards his spades, and picks up a nine of diamonds.

Your competitive side is itching, the tip of your polished nail taps against the back of your assorted cards. You have no choice but to pick up as well.

You pick up from the pile, and see a random 2 of spades. You huff, and put it down on the pile. Fredo’s brows furrowed in concentration, he doesn’t need the damn diamonds — what else can he do? Put the diamonds down, and pick up another.

Victory melts on your tongue with delight, chest alit — as Fredo’s diamonds finally touched the discarded pile, it was game over. With a swift pick up of the diamonds, replacing the ten of hearts. “I win!” You squeal, showcasing your full hand of cards.

Fredo guffaws playfully, “Rookie’s luck.”

-

The living room is quiet, and warm.

Sliver of moonlight gleamed through the ceiling high window, a flourish illuminated the lavish home decor.

The scattered playing cards are resting on the dining table, as Fredo and yourself are just resting on the couch. Just small talk, shoulder to shoulder, both comfortably on the cushions.

Fredo can feel your inviting body heat, it hugs him with that reassuring comfort that makes his body tingle. Adjusting himself so he can sink into you.

“Did you think of any names for the baby yet?”

You hum low, as your manicured fingers fiddle, “If it’s a boy, his name will be Anthony,” your head falls on the crock of Fredo’s shoulder, a shiver crawls up his spine at the contact, without any thought, lays his head on yours.

Your breath hitches excitedly, “But if it’s a girl, her name will be Rosalia.” Without any thought, your head caresses sweetly against Fredo’s shoulder, enjoying the shared warmth.

“Like the saint.”

You whisper a dreamy ‘yeah’ under your breath, you love your boys more than life itself, but you would be so happy to have a little girl too. The boys are their father’s twins, will the baby be your twin this time?

The boys are already spoiled and have their father wrapped around their little fingers, now imagine a daughter — poor Michael won’t survive it.

You take Fredo’s hand and cradle it against you, “Another baby to love, another baby for Michael to spoil.” Fredo’s fingers curl around the slopes of your fingers, not daring to let go.

A pregnant pause of comfort falls.

A heat surges through him, he can’t stop himself — an urge that feels so good, but so wrong.

Slowly, Fredo pulls your hand closer to himself — it’s a blur, a compulsive need that overrides his mind.

Wispy kisses on your knuckles, Fredo doesn’t think, just let his heart overcome any logical thinking —- a stunned silence falls.

He can feel you becoming stiff, not from disgust, just surprised, Fredo can hear your breathing picking up.

“Fredo?”

You don’t pull away your hand, worried that it would hurt his feelings. You stare into the darkness, as your skin flushes with an overwhelming heat at the cheeks.

“I love you.” It spills from his lips in a flurry, a hurried whisper.

“I love you,” He repeats. Fredo’s warm palms cradle your face, as you sniffle back tears, murmuring his name under your breath.

Fredo’s lips kiss your palm feverishly, murmuring against the knuckles. Closing your eyes, as your lashes become wet with droplets. Pleading with him to stop now, before it’s too late.

Fredo moves his body, his warm clammy hands grasp at the nape of your neck.

“I wish that you were my wife.” He kisses the tip of your nose, as fat tears cascade down his cheeks. Breathing in harsh breaths, caressing your face with his.

His beard tickles your skin, delicately your fingers grasp his hands, the pad of your thumbs stroking. “Fredo, please—” you don’t know what you’re pleading for; for him to stop, for him to say it’s just a joke.

Opening your eyes, gazing at his wet sheen eyes, and you see it’s no joke. “I hated my father for so long, for arranging Michael to marry you.” Fredo’s fingers thread further to the nape of your neck, pulling you into him.

“No, don’t say that,” your fingertips softly pat his mouth, “Don’t hate your father.” Fredo shakes his head, kissing nimbly on your fingers, more hurried, as if he couldn’t give enough kisses, as if you’ll slip away.

“Fredo, no —- I can’t, I’m sorry.” You choke back a sob, weakly trying to escape his hold. Trying to wiggle your face away, throat burning from restrained tears.

“I suffered for so long, seeing you and Michael together.” Fredo’s hush voice fans against your face, not daring to let you go. He won’t stop now, he’s in too deep.

“Why couldn’t I have you?”

He wants you to love him, to see the mess he is and still love him, that he’s worthy of love. For once, he can be the first choice.

Yearning — no, what he feels is much more destructive.

“Fredo, I love you — I do.” You suck in your lips, wet breathing, “But, I love you like a brother.” Fredo crumbles, forehead to forehead, your arms wrap around him in a hug, he holds onto you as if he never wants to let go.

“Please love me.” He mumbles, all you can do is speak his name in a loving manner, as he cries in the crook of your shoulder. Caressing his scalp, but what startles you is Fredo’s small wet kisses on your skin.

The most logical thing for a wedded woman is to push him off, but you can’t bring yourself to do so. He’s fragile, and too kind for any aggressive response — you know he means well, he’s a good man.

His thoughts are murky, desperate — to create any plan for you to see that you belong with him. He’s not thinking straight, he’s a broken man.

“He still thinks of Apollonia, he never stopped loving her.” Fredo spoke in a rushed tone, his skin cringing at the mention of Michael’s late wife, knowing it will sting you.

A pin can drop in the dead silence.

He can feel your body prickle, your breathing gets heavier, crumble underneath him, breaking apart like a duck egg, now just clinging onto Fredo as a life-line.

Shivering in his arms, he pulls you closer, as you practically sit in his lap now. In his arms, encasing you lovingly, as you nearly wept in his shoulder. Fredo’s fingers stroke the swollen stretched skin of your belly.

A call for your name beckons in the dark.

Michael’s voice breaks through the silence, his disembodied voice looming at the top of the stairs, calling out your name. The upstairs light turns on, giving a shadowed honey-dew.

Quickly, you wipe away your tears by trembling fingers, composing yourself, subtly clearing your tight throat, “I’m down here, Michael. Just talking with Fredo.”

Michael stayed quiet for a moment.

“Okay, it’s getting late — come to bed soon.” All you can say is ‘okay, darling’, you fix yourself, as well as fixing Fredo’s disheveled clothes, wiping away his tears.

Without any word, you stand up, even in the darkness you can see the gleam of Fredo’s tears. Stroking his bearded cheek, you lean down, kissing Fredo’s forehead, “Get some sleep.”

Leaving Fredo to himself, as you slowly trek upstairs, he can tell you’re beyond frazzled — what can he expect when he confessed his love to you so suddenly.

Fredo goes to bed alone that night but sleep never comes to him.

#chaosfae-writes #michael corleone x reader #fredo corleone #godfather fanfic

[venus-haze]

Writer Tag

Thank you so much for tagging me @frstcorinthians🖤

Just a "proceed with caution" on the fics I've linked on this list. Plenty of detailed warnings!

How many works do you have on AO3? 42

What's your total AO3 word count? 178k

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

3 out of 5 are Homelander fics🤭

My Destruction Is an Hour Late (my first Homelander fic🥲)

She's Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Bruised Fruit (Michael Corleone x OC, an honor that it’s even on this list)

Got No Reason To Run (Homelander x Reader)

Baby Let's Play House (Homelander x Reader)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Always! I appreciate every single one so much!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Definitely Sinnerman, I need to write more for Midnight Mass. There's so much potential there.

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I think Eat Your Heart Out...

Do you write crossovers? No, I haven't.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? No, which is shocking considering what I write about.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? The kind that usually requires a lot of trigger warnings.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, I couldn't with my schedule.

What's your all-time favorite ship? I absolutely love the way Minxie @cherubgore writes Vincent/Paige! Rarepair forever🖤

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? None I can think of. I mostly write standalone fics, and I know I'm gonna finish Bruised Fruit at some point. Usually my WIPs change over time so they might not look the same as when I started, but they end up getting posted eventually.

What are your writing strengths? I don't know…I've been told I'm good at bringing the reader into a fic, so I guess building settings and scenes, which makes sense considering I write mostly readerfics and the immersion aspect is the backbone of that.

What are your writing weaknesses? My writing is more straightforward and doesn't use a lot of poetic style, which is something I wish I were better at. I don't think I write individual sentences that "wow" a reader, you know?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I do not trust Google Translate and will not walk around with egg on my face. I just use italics to indicate speaking in another language, on the off occasion that's included in my fics. Or like with Bruised Fruit, Gloria doesn't speak Italian, so part of portraying that involves her asking people what they said and hoping they're telling the truth or trying to figure out based on her interpretation of their tone and body language.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? The Outsiders! I was so upset about the ending that I wrote many fics on Quizilla where Johnny and Dally lived.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? I'd like to write something for Justified, but I need to rewatch again.

What's your favorite fic you've written? That's so tough...maybe Howl.

No pressure tags: @cherubgore @zaras-really-dreamless @shoshiwrites @blurredcolour @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @flaggermuser @zepskies (please make a new post, don't reblog)

#battie signals

[lostloveletters]

Reader-insert fics for The Godfather. You can also find these fics on my AO3.

I do not take fic requests.

Do not interact if you’re under 18, a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

MICHAEL

Give Me Shelter, The Night Is Dark - Michael Corleone x Reader (Vampire AU, smut, female reader)

SONNY

One of Those Nights - Sonny Corleone x Reader (Smut, female reader)

#the godfather #sonny corleone #michael corleone #michael corleone x reader #sonny corleone x reader #lostloveletters masterlist

[hoffmans-hoffman]

I'm a lazy bitch, and putting some fics on hold so 🐝

What I'll be doing is having my Asks open for x Readers (Mostly gender neutral and Male...I just feel like I don't write women goon)

List of characters I write for

Sonny Corleone

Tom Hagen

Michael Corleone

Mo Green

Enzo the Baker (He is my sweet baby boy)

+ whatever one you want, those are just the people I'm good at

What I write, I can do sweet fluff, I can do injuries, however I don't do requested smut

But let me know what I can do, just send an ask also some of the characters maybe more like the book than the movie but try a good mix of both

- Nov 🐝

#nov speaks #the godfather #send me asks

[droogiesanddiscourse]

“Don’t Make Me Repeat Myself”

(Pairing: Michael Corleone x Reader) 

Word Count: 2.7K 

Summary: Michael finally lets you sit in on one of his important business meetings, and everything doesn’t go according to plan. It’s smut with a tiny bit of plot! Requested by anon <3  

Warnings: Smut, 18+ ONLY, spanking, the usual stuff? Michael is a bit of a uhh he's got some traditional roles of what you should do as a married women but that’s kinda what we expect. But just a warning! 

Michael’s eyes pierce into your very soul as you stand in front of his desk, awkwardly swaying back and forth on your feet. Everyone else has already left his office except the two of you. He sat back in his leather chair, a cigarette hanging casually from his lips. The tension within the room was palpable; you could almost hear the static from the electricity that crackled between you two. 

The room was quiet. You shifted uncomfortably. 

“May I..have a seat?” 

Michael doesn’t even say a word to you. You nod uncomfortably, taking a seat down on a chair catty-corner to him. You crossed your hands across your lap, bouncing your leg in an anxious fury. 

Michael takes a deep sigh, obviously thinking carefully about the words that were about to come out of his mouth next. He licks his lips, slowly parting them. 

“(Y/N), would you mind telling me what happened back there?” 

He drums his fingers on the table impatiently, cocking his head to the side. His eyes are relentless, you wonder to yourself if he even blinks during these serious moments. Your eyes want to shift away from his, but you understand if you don’t maintain eye contact Michael would think you’re disrespecting him. And you really, really didn’t want to test his patience now.

“I...I’m sorry I asked too many questions, I was just, I was curious. I know you don't talk too much about your work and I...I don't know I was just interested and I didn’t mean to...and as your wife I just wish I knew a little more about...” 

“Right.” Michael cuts you off, not wanting to listen to your fumbling attempt at an apology anymore. Taking this as an obvious cue to quiet down, you fold your hands across your lap again, leaning back in your chair.

He takes a deep inhale from his cigarette, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts once more.

“And, let me ask you this, (Y/N). I don’t let you sit in on meetings all that often, and I'm sure you know why. You know I want to keep you away from the family business as much as possible.”

“I know...”  

“Yet, you insisted. You twisted my arm. And I gave you a chance.” 

You look down at your lap, not able to handle Michael’s searing gaze anymore “Yes, Michael, and...I thank you for that and-” 

“No, (Y/N). I wasn't finished talking. Don’t interrupt me again.” He leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face. You take the hint rather quickly, and snap your head back up to him.

“I gave you a chance, and you proved to me you couldn’t handle the responsibility.” He pauses, taking a sharp inhale of his cigarette, locking eyes with you once again.

You move around in your chair uncomfortably again, crossing your legs. The power, confidence, and coldness that was emanating off of Michael in that moment terrified you - something completely different to the kind, caring, gentle man you knew at home. 

And, to be completely honest, it excited you just a little bit too. 

“So what do you think we should do about this, huh?” 

You just stare at each other for a moment, Michael holding his hands out in front of him, fingertips touching fingertips forming a triangular shape. 

“(Y/N).” 

You still don’t say anything, as you gulp audibly. 

“Okay, well if you’re not going to speak, giving me the silent treatment now, I guess we’re just going to do things my way. ” 

Michael spreads his legs apart, speaking to you with his eyes and patting his leg.  

“(Y/N). Come here.” 

A little bit embarrassed, and quite frankly shocked by the implications Michael was giving, you remain glued to your seat. You just couldn’t believe what he was asking of you right now. 

“Don’t make me ask again, (Y/N).” 

Shyly, you get up and walk over to Michael, the serious tone in his voice made you realize now was not the time to mess around, or contemplate the logistics of what was unfolding in front of you. As you approached him, Michael leaning back against his leather chair, time seemed to come to a standstill. Like you were walking in slow-motion, nothing felt real anymore. 

You’re pulled out of your semi-trance by Michael. Taking the initiative into his own hands, he grabs you by the forearm, throwing you down across his lap. You blush as Michael flips up your pencil skirt, giving a gentle re-affirmative slap of your behind. You look up to him innocently, knowing what was coming next. 

You felt so vulnerable, so exposed like this. How anyone could just walk in right now and catch what you were up to, how mortifying that would be. And how you realize Michael would probably keep going no matter what, even in front of his men. 

“Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, and take the punishment that you deserve, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes, who?” He quickly spits back at you. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“That’s right.” 

One by one, Michael takes off the few rings adorning his fingers, placing them down on the desk away from you. What he was going to do next, no doubt, would sting a little, but he still took your comfort and safety in mind. He wanted this to hurt, but not be unbearable.

Prepping you, he kneads your behind in between his firm, calloused hands. Raising his hand, he lays a rough smack to the area he just gave ministrations to. You jolt forward in surprise, your cheeks starting to form a deep, red blush. Michael smirks to himself, relishing in your reactions. 

“This,” he gives you another hard slap to your rear. “Was for speaking out of turn in that meeting. I told you not to, yet you did anyways, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, I -” he cuts you off, giving you another swift slap. Your voice fails you, as you instead let out a high pitched moan, cutting off your sentence immediately. Quickly, you clasp a hand to your mouth in embarrassment. You knew this wasn’t meant to be for your pleasure, yet you couldn’t deny the damp spot forming between your legs. 

“Oh, you like this, don’t you? And this is supposed to be a punishment...what a dirty girl. I should have known you couldn't be trusted with such important business, especially if this is how you act.” He makes a “tsk tsk tsk” noise with his tongue, chastising you for your bad behavior. But the darkness within his eyes seemed to lighten a bit, now having a playfully mischievous energy.

He raised his hand once again, giving another firm smack to your rear, smiling as your voice fails you again with another moan. “And this, is for asking too many questions when I specifically told you not to.” He gives two more quick swats, one after the other, as your skin began to sting from his actions. You could barely prepare yourself anymore.

“And this....” he leaves a rather harsh smack to your rear as you bite down on your index finger, forcing back another moan. Your skin tingled wherever his hand touched, you felt like your body was on fire. You were sure you weren't going to be able to sit properly for the next few days. Michael gets close to the shell of your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “Was just because I wanted to.” 

You bite your bottom lip, and look back up to him. Michael’s demeanor changed just a little bit once again, a sly smile creeping across his features. He’s never been this dominant with you before, and it was an interesting change of pace. 

You realized maybe you had to piss him off more in the future, if this was the reward you would get. You store than information for later. 

Without even the slightest bit of hesitation, Michael slams you down on the desk, an insatiable hunger now glazing over his brown eyes. He was going to have you right here, right now. Both of his hands pin you down by the wrists, as he panted heavily above you. Michael’s usually tidy appearance evades him now - his usually tidy hair now disheveled, a slight glisten of sweat now decorating his face. There was a wild glint in his eye. He was enjoying this as much as you were.

In a frantic frenzy, Michael rips off his belt, fumbling with his zipper to pull out his cock. It’s red, swollen, with pre-cum already seeping out from the tip. You were shocked at how excited he already was without even touching him once. He strokes himself a few times, preparing himself to enter your slick, warm heat.

“You see this?” he indicates to his member as he pumps it, “You don’t even deserve this,” he practically spits at you between his teeth, the venom in his voice audible. “Not after what you did today. I should just make you watch as I pleasure myself, would you like that?”

You whine a bit, shuttering at Michael’s words.

“But, I’ll give it to you, just this one time because I’m feeling generous. And you know how forgiving I can be when I’m generous.”

Unceremoniously, Michael pushes your panties to the side and enters your dripping sex, as you both let out a low, long moan almost in time with each other. Both still fully clothed, he couldn’t wait any longer. 

Michael sets an unrelenting pace, thrusting into you with little to no warning. The desk starts to shake a bit from his powerful movements. A stack of papers on the corner fly off, spilling across the office floor. Michael, too wrapped up in your tight warmth, couldn’t care less. He’ll get to it eventually, there were more pressing matters at hand to take care of. 

“Look at you, you’re so beautiful like this,” he reaches a hand down into your hair, grabbing a fistful of your locks and giving a rough tug. He pulls your face up to his, giving you a dirty, open mouthed kiss as he relentlessly continues his thrusts into you.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, and your combined heavy breathing and sweet moans. A brief fleeting thought fills your mind as you realized what the two of you were doing - fucking on Michael’s desk. Practically in public. You silently prayed that no one was lingering outside, or they might hear more than they were expecting today. 

His hands move down towards your hips, holding you there in a vice grip. This gave him a new angle to pound into you, steadying himself with your help. You grab his tie, pulling him even closer to you, deepening the kiss between you. 

As he melted into the kiss, his chaotic thrusts begin to slow down, becoming more calculated and precise.  What was once raw and rough began to turn into passionate and tender lovemaking, the kind Michael usually expressed, as his free hand rubbed your clit.

Pulling away from kissing you, he looks into your eyes, his face flushed and eyes blown out with lust. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell you - how much he loved you, how he would never forgive himself if you got hurt, how perfect you were, how lucky he was to call you his, how he doesn’t tell you much because he needed to protect you. But he couldn’t even form a proper sentence right now, his voice catching in his throat. Instead, a low grown was all that he was able to muster.

He felt your walls clench around his cock indicating that you were close to your release. He was too, and he just wanted to relish in this moment with you. Tenderly, he places a hand on your cheek, making sure you were looking at each other. Giving each other your bodies fully, nothing else in the world was important right now except this. 

“I’m gonna cum inside you, okay? I have....to please let me cum inside you. I’ll go crazy if I can’t,” Michael begged you. You nod your head, as Michael gives a few more thrusts. 

His brown eyes flutter close in concentration, letting out one final moan before his seed paints your insides. You throw your head back in pure bliss, feeling the warmth of your orgasm spread across your skin.

Michael collapses on top of you, holding you in his arms. At first, no words were shared between you. You just let both of you catch your breath, still releasing in the closeness of your bodies together in this moment.

He lets you still lay down on his desk, as Michael pulls out of you. He zips up his pants, and pulls a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, wiping the sweat from his brow. Watching you still lying on your back, he pulls you up for a quick, but passionate kiss.

When he pulls away, he slowly moves his body over to the window, opening the blinds once he knew the both of you were decent. He fishes around in his pants pocket, finding a cigarette and his lighter. 

Finally collecting your senses, you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking back at Michael, now standing aloof in the corner taking a drag from his lit cigarette. All the dominant energy seemed to just vacate his body in an instant, as the more reserved, shy nature took hold of him again. The Michael you knew, the one you recognized. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), I um...I didn’t mean to get that harsh with you.”

“Oh, no Michael it’s really...” you begin, but he immediately cuts you off again. 

“You know how important you are to me, and I want to keep you away from this world as much as I can. If..if anything happened to you, you know I wouldn’t forgive myself.” He runs a hand nervously through his hair, attempting to hide any signs of debauchery that happened within his office this afternoon. 

“Michael please don’t worry, it’s okay. I just...I wish you would open up to me more.” 

Of course you knew what you married into, you were fully away of what being a mob wife entails. But it didn’t make it any less harder. And whenever you brought it up to Michael, he just brushed it off. 

“It’s hard being in the dark all the time, I'm sure you can understand that, can’t you?” 

He exhales smoke through his nostrils, genuinely contemplating this for a moment. Somewhere in his mind, he hoped maybe you would just accept how things would be between you, understanding that his line of work doesn’t just allow him to open up to you. That you’d just stay home, do what you’re told, and stop prying so much. 

But he knew you, he knew your tenacious attitude, how your curiosity knew no boundaries. You didn’t mean any harm - you were just a strong, self determined women. And he was never going to change that. In fact, he think those attributes made him love you even more. 

Simply, he finally responds to you. “I can.” 

Even just this slight bit of acknowledgement finally makes you feel validated, instead of Michael’s usual cold shoulder response to the topic. You smile in appreciation, showing how much these little steps mean to you. 

He breaks the space between you in the room, walking back to where you were still seated on top of his desk. He breaks his stoic expression with a slight smile, gently placing his hand on your face. His thumb delicately strokes your cheek, as you nuzzle into his touch. You look up into his eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“What am I gonna do with you? You’re gonna be the death of me, you know?” 

You giggle, rolling your eyes “Gosh, you’re so dramatic sometimes...” 

He doesn’t even register your playful jest, still just staring into your eyes. “And you know what? Even if you are the death of me, it’ll be an honor to die next to the love of my life.” 

And with that, your lips intertwine with each other’s again. 

#michael corleone x reader #al pacino x reader #Michael Corleone imagine #Michael Corleone smut #al pacino imagine #The Godfather imagine #WHEW ITS HOT IN HERRE

[loveilovetoo]

#michael corleone #The Godfather #imagine michael corleone #michael corleone imagine #michael corleone fanfic #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone smut #the godfather part ii #pacino #alfredo james pacino #al pacino #the godfather

[melis-writes]

Victoria touching herself for Michael to watch. 😳

😳 😳 How many of us girlies can sit still while doing that in front of Michael Corleone…

‘God…’ With your head slightly tilted back and lost within self indulgence, your eyes remain half open while soft, hot breaths escaping your lips with each moan.

Michael’s plush, full lips wrap around the end his half-finished cigarette as he keeps his eyes scouring over your body in both entertainment and amusement; arousal pulsating over his body.

Kneeling on the center of the bed with your legs spread as wide as you can keep them, your fingers toy over your dewy clit—spreading your wetness over the folds of your pussy again and again.

Michael’s lustful gaze over you only intensifies your arousal pumping through you, rushing warmth to your skin as your breathing begins to hitch on and off.

Michael’s half shrugged off overcoat loosely hands over his shoulders and arms as he sits upon the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, facing you.

Michael’s tie is almost completely loosened; five of the buttons on his dress shirt undone to reveal a peek of his chest hair, his leather belt on the floor with one hand resting over his thigh while he smokes with the other in what one may describe as almost elegant yet cautious.

Not once does Michael take his eyes off of you or your actions, and while he watches you tease and please yourself, you feel his eyes directly locked with yours but over every inch of your body at the same time.

Michael notices the way your tongue wets your lips, how you squeeze your eyes shut when you edge off your growing orgasm and how the muscles in your body strain towards the rush of pleasure constantly hitting you.

“Perfect,” he whispers out, watching you slick two fingers inside of your pussy in and out in perfect rhythm; the sloppy sounds of your arousal’s lubrication being nothing but music to his ears.

“M-Michael,” you breathe, bucking your hips out of reaction as you feel more of your wetness begin to trickle inbetween your thighs.

“Good girl,” Michael comments back—speaking in a soft, ushered tone as he watches your thighs begin to quiver again. “Hold yourself back for me, again.”

You give a small, shaky nod as you continue to rub over your throbbing clit with your thumb; your fingers practically sliding over your pussy from how wet you’ve grown.

“You…” You moan softly, squeezing your eyes shut for a brief second, “love watching me do this to myself, d-don’t you?”

Michael’s gaze hardens over you at your question as he gives you a slow, stern nod—blowing smoke out towards you. “Are you talking back to me?”

“N-no, Don Corleone,” you whine, slowly beginning to add a third finger in.

Michael lowers his cigarette, putting it out upon the crystal ashtray next to him; noticing how your actions begin to slow down from an inevitable orgasm attempting to push through.

“Don’t,” Michael speaks out, gesturing for you to come to him.

“I was—” You pant quietly, moving your hands away.

“You’re not going to let yourself cum,” Michael states, interrupting you. “Come here.”

Blushing furiously, you slowly get off the bed and begin to get down on your knees; careful with your thighs shaking again before you look up at Michael obediently.

“You’re doing so well,” Michael purrs, reaching towards the fly of his dress trousers. “Come here. You won’t come without me this time.”

#godfather au #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone smut #smut prompts #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic #godfather x reader #godfather smut #canon #vichael

[giowritess]

fire [michael corleone]

masterlist. | michael corleone.

Pairing: Michael Corleone x fem!OC Sienna di Stefano

Plot: Michael and Sienna have been long time friends with benefits, no strings attached, but things changed when she left for college a few years ago. Now he’s back from the war, and Connie’s wedding is the perfect opportunity for them to rekindle their flame. [my summaries are shit, I know]

Warnings: NSFW themes — unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cursing, smoking, alcohol, male dom/fem sub, daddy kink and etc. be warned!

Word-count: 2,912

Kinktober: prompts — begging, daddy kink, marking, choking, possessiveness, breeding kink

Author’s note: 10% plot and 90% smut. I know we’re way past october, but i work really slow besides dealing with millions of other things in life. and i’ve found out that i really hate writing with reader insert, so please meet another character for another Michael fic lol this was beta’d by one of the best people I’ve met here — @amysteryspot​. i love you so much <3 this takes place at Connie’s wedding, from The Godfather Part I. I’ve always loved the way Michael looks in his uniform, so I had to write about it. Enjoy!

Music sugestion: Fire by Two Feet

PS: Cuore mio means my heart and carina means darling.

    Shouting, laughter, music, food, and a lot of alcohol: that was the perfect definition of Connie Corleone's wedding. The family hadn't spared a single dime for it to be the event of the year—a true Sicilian outdoor party. 

    "Connie!" Sienna exclaimed, hugging her friend tight. "Congratulations!"

    "Oh, darling, thank you!" she replied, kissing Sienna's cheeks. "I'm so happy you could come! We missed you."

    "We?" Sienna asked, a mischievous grin taking place on her lips.

    Connie and Sienna were like sisters ever since they were little girls—always together, always confiding in each other. Their families had always been friends, so of course, the kids grew up together. Sienna loved all of the Corleone’s siblings, but one of them had a special place in her heart. Of course, Connie knew and was the biggest supporter they could have. 

    Connie chuckled.

    "Silly girl. You know who I'm talking about."

    Sienna laughed, conspiratorially.

    "What do you say about a drink?"

    "Oh, yes, please," Connie replied, but before she could move a couple approached her. "I'll meet you there in a second."

    Sienna nodded and walked away to wait for her friend, taking a long look at all those people at the party. Knowing the family as she did, she knew ninety percent of the guests had been invited by Vito, not Connie herself. As her eyes traveled around the crowd, Sienna found the one she could never stop thinking about—Michael. A deep sigh left her lips as she took him in. Sienna hadn't seen him since she got back in town, and he looked more handsome than ever. Michael always looked perfect in anything he wore, but the Marines' uniform did wicked things to her mind.

    To say they used to be more than friends didn't do justice to what they used to be. If Sienna was going to be honest, she would say that she probably loved him ever since the first time she laid eyes on him when they were both little children. Yet, she never said a word about it. Sienna had no idea if he felt anything for her besides lust, but it wouldn't matter, anyway. Michael was a Corleone, and expecting a relationship beyond no-strings-attached fucking wasn't rational.

    Sienna would never be the right woman for him. She was too loud, too opinionated, too stubborn, too reckless, too curious, too wild… too much. She would never be the right wife for a Corleone.

    It had been quite a while since the last time they were together, two or three years, but that made no difference—she would forever be his. The moment his dark eyes found hers made her feel like the very first time they kissed, a long time ago. Sienna felt like she could explode at any minute while his stare swallowed her up. 

    She came out of the spell when Connie grabbed her arm.

    "Let's get drunk!"

    •

    In the blink of an eye, Connie was drunk, spilling all her problems and everything else to Sienna, who stood listening quietly while stealing glances at Michael.

    "You're not even listening to me, are you?" the bride grunted.

    Sienna laughed.

    "I am! But you’re complaining about so many things I can't pay attention to everything." 

    "No, you're not,” Connie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, where is your father?"

    "Probably snoring somewhere," Sienna replied. "You know he drinks one glass and blacks out." She emptied her glass in a gulp, pouring more champagne in it. When she looked back at Connie, she was waving at someone.

    "You haven't seen Michael yet, have you?" she asked.

    Before the entire "no" left Sienna's lips, Connie was already dragging her away, spilling the champagne she was holding. 

    "Where are we..." the rest of the sentence died on her lips, because the answer was right in front of her.

    Michael was right there, sitting and chatting with Kay.

    Connie hugged her brother while Sienna stood awkwardly there, feeling Kay's piercing stare at her. When the siblings separated, Michael’s eyes fell upon her, and it was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist.

    "Such a long time, Miss Stefano," he said, moving to kiss her hand.

    When his lips touched her skin, she almost burst into flames. Well, her insides certainly did.

    "Indeed, Mr. Corleone," she replied, seeming entirely unaffected. "Feels like yesterday, though," she commented, her gaze on him, knowing that he knew exactly what she was talking about.

    Their last night together, at the beach in Miami, under the moonlight and all the stars. 

    It seemed like an age until Michael let go of her hand. Sienna turned to Kay then, noticing that the other woman was trying to control her jealousy.

    "Miss Adams," she greeted.

    The smile Sienna got back was anything but friendly, but she ignored it. They had never been friends, and Kay had always been jealous of her relationship with Michael. Not that Sienna cared, anyway.

    "Now I've seen everyone," Connie said, chuckling. "Oh, Sienna, let's get more champagne!"

    Sienna sighed, letting herself be dragged away, knowing drunk Connie only listened to herself. She could even hear Michael laughing as they walked away. 

    "You really don't give a shit, do you?" she asked, watching as Connie grabbed a bottle.

    "Nope," Connie replied, smiling. "It's my happy day!" she shouted, walking to the dance floor, not even caring that Sienna didn't follow her.

    Chuckling, Sienna walked back to her table, where her father was passed out on his seat. Moving quietly, she opened his pack of cigarettes and stole one, along with his lighter. These were the only moments where she could smoke, when he couldn’t see. She got up, wandering through the property, trying to find the perfect hiding spot where she could smoke in peace and would be out of everyone's sight. 

    What she found,in an abandoned part of the building, was a large room that seemed to have been a kitchen, with a long table and a few old cooking utensils.

    Sienna quietly entered the room and closed the door behind her, walking to lean on the broad table, that creaked under her weight. From there, the party seemed like a distant reality, its sounds faint, and she appreciated the silence.

    Litting the cigarette, she took a long drag, closing her eyes and humming in delight as she let the smoke go, finally feeling at peace. 

    The door suddenly opened, and she wasn't surprised to see Michael walk in. She smirked mischievously when she saw him discreetly lock the door.

    With his hands in his pockets, he slowly walked to her, making her feel like a prey being hunted down by her predator. Everything about him was methodical and controlled—the way he moved, the way he dressed, the way he spoke.

    After what felt like hours, he finally stood in front of her.

    "Pretty girls don't smoke."

    Sienna smiled, taking a drag and blowing the smoke straight into his face. 

    "Pretty girls do as they please," she snapped back, testing his patience to see how far he would go. Defying him had always been her favorite game.

    Michael remained quiet. Instead of replying., he took a step closer, taking the cigarette from her lips and putting it between his.

    Sienna watched with narrowed eyes as he smoked it.

    "Oh, so you can, but I can't?" she mocked, observing as he blew out the smoke and put the cigarette away.

    "Yes," he replied, simply, dipping his head down and starting to place kisses on her skin, light as a feather.

    He caught her by surprise. Her summer dress was low and strapless, giving him plenty of room to work on. His lips were traveling up and down her neck, each time getting dangerously close to her cleavage, but never going down the golden trail.

    She was in heaven, eyes shut, thinking about how long she had missed that sinful mouth of his. Having it on her skin felt like drinking water after being thirsty for too long.

    "You're such a..." she started, but it was hard to finish her sentence with the cloud of lust fogging her brain. "Such a..."

    "I'm such a what?" Michael asked, his lips never once leaving her skin. 

    "A hypocrite," she whispered, having difficulty making her voice audible.

    The soft pants coming from her lips were making him hard, and she knew he was trying his best to control himself.

    Michael had Sienna exactly where he wanted her—completely trapped in his spell. Her mind wasn't even working anymore. She was intoxicated by his mouth. Even though he hadn't even properly kissed her yet, her legs were already turning to jelly, and she was holding onto the table behind her for dear life. 

    He chuckled in response, knowing exactly the effects he caused on her.

    The vibrations of his voice against her collarbone sent a shiver straight to her core. If her panties weren't already damp, now they definitely were.

    Sienna was getting more and more impatient by the second, and he could even see her pressing her thighs together, looking for some kind of friction. She could feel herself getting completely inebriated by him, feeling her skin hot and tingling everywhere he touched.

    "You see, Sienna," he murmured, still trailing kisses on her skin, each time closer to her lips, but never getting there, "Sonny told me someone told him you had a boyfriend back there."

    Her eyes shot open, quickly regaining their lost focus. His hand that was previously traveling up her body found its home wrapped around her throat, while the other remained at the small of her back. 

    "Is that true?" he asked, his deep, dark eyes unsettlingly serious. His voice, so stern and calm, almost made it seem as if he was dealing with a business transaction.

    "No, daddy."

    Sienna watched as his breath faltered at her answer, his cock twitching at the sound and pressing against her like solid marble. His expression remained serious and unaffected, even though he felt as if he was about to explode. 

    "Good,” he conceded, 'Cause no one touches my property."

    The warning was clear by the way he punctuated each word to give it more depth and meaning, but he still asked her to emphasize, "understood?"

    "Yes," Sienna replied, weekly.

    Slowly, his hand started to put more pressure on her neck, and she took a moment to realize her mistake.

    "Yes, daddy," she corrected herself.

    And that was when his lips finally met hers, making her feel like a child who behaved and won a reward. Michael's hand left her neck to harshly grab her thighs and place her on top of the table. Sienna took the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist, pressing his cock against her even further. Her hands tugged hard at his perfect hair, making a mess of it and making him grunt. By now, Sienna's dress was already bunched up at her waist as his hands started to go up her thighs.

    "Fuck," he muttered, kissing down her neck and biting hard on his favorite spot, feeling her squirm under him. "Did you think of me?" he asked, alternating between biting and sucking on her neck knowing it was going to be all shades of purple tomorrow, and that was exactly what he wanted.

    She moaned after a particularly hard bite.

    "Yes," she breathed. "Touched myself every night to the thought of all the things you'd do to me."

    God, he loved when she talked dirty. He could come alone with that, and the confession made him feel as if his cock was going to rip out of his trousers.

    Her fingers trailed down to his belt, fumbling with the buttons, and he chuckled.

    "So eager for your daddy's cock, aren't you?" he whispered against the shell of her ear, replacing her clumsy hands with his own and doing quick work of his belt, the clicking sounds of it sending shivers of anticipation to her core.

    "Yes," she replied, her voice also a whisper, looking at him through half closed eyelids. If it was anyone else, she'd be embarrassed about her almost drugged-like state, but only Michael could make her feel like that. 

    He didn't even need to properly touch her to make her feel on the verge of ecstasy. 

    Michael was deliberately taking his time. He loved playing with her, working her up until she felt as if she was on fire, and the only one who could put it out was him. That was frequently how they felt regarding one another.

    "Please, daddy," she whined, not even knowing what she was asking for.

    She needed something, needed more. More of him. More of his touch, his smell, his mouth, his skin, his cock.

    "Please what, darling?" he replied in that sweet accent that made her legs weak, making her squirm with frustration under him. "Use your words."

    How the hell did he expect her mind to actually work with the way his hot mouth was attacking her breasts?

    "Please... fuck...fuck me."

    His low chuckle reverberated against her chest, and Michael grabbed her by the throat and spun her around, making her back meet his chest.

    "All you had to do was ask, cuore mio."

    One hand still wrapped around her throat, the other finally set his cock free, angry red and throbbing with need. He needed her just as much as she needed him, needed the relief that only she could give him. 

    The entire world seemed to explode the moment he finally thrust into her, making her eyes squeeze shut in pure bliss and her mouth stay ajar, unable to control it. She gripped the edges of the table with all her strength, grateful he was still holding her. She would probably be on the floor right now if he wasn't, because her body didn't follow her commands anymore, only his.

    Sienna did her best to control the sounds coming out of her mouth, but it wasn't an easy task as he started speeding more and more, hitting that sweet spot he knew made her see stars. 

    "Fu–fuck, daddy," she muttered, her voice faltering as his fingers started to put pressure on her neck. The deprivation of oxygen only added more fuel to the growing fire inside her, spreading uncontrollably against all her skin, her entire body.

    A deep groan fell from his lips, her weak voice doing wicked things to him and only hurrying up his release. If only she knew the effect she had on him.

    Skin slapping on skin, moans, sighs, and the repeatedly scrapping of the wooden table against the floor was all anyone would hear if they came close enough to the door, but Michael couldn't care less right now. He had plenty of worries in his life, but right now the only thing he cared about in the whole world was the goddess in front of him. The way her velvety walls enveloped him, wrapping around him so well in a way no one else could. 

    "You take daddy's cock so well, carina," he said. It was difficult to find his own words as all sensations started to become stronger and higher, as the growing pleasure became closer and closer.

    A proud, silly smile appeared on her lips. She loved defying and confronting him, but she also loved being his good girl, and only his. 

    His small grunts and erratic breathing were such heavenly sounds to her as he slipped in and out of her, his balls repeatedly hitting the soft skin of her ass, that she couldn't help calling out his name, chanting it like a prayer. 

    "Daddy..." she breathed, pleading for something she didn't even know what it was. But he did. He always knew what she needed even before she asked for it. "I'm so... so close..."

    Making her steady with his own legs, his right hand left her hips and found the exact place that was in desperate need of his attention. 

    "Cum for daddy, baby girl," he whispered, before circling her clit in controlled strokes that he knew always drove her crazy.

    And that was exactly what she did, his expert touch sending her over the edge with a shout of his name as if he was a god made to worship. The orgasm waves washed over her repeatedly, burning hot white pleasure making Sienna feel as if she was about to blackout. It was everything, breathtaking, world-shattering, all at once. It was all she needed. 

    His hips stilled not long after her, sending thick ropes of cum inside of her as he came with a groan of pleasure and her name, moving with sloppy thrusts as both rode out their orgasms and came from their highs, hearts still beating fast. 

    As he pulled out of her, Sienna turned around, looking at him with half-focused eyes and a sheepish smile on her lips.

    "I always dreamed of you fucking me in uniform," she confessed, not even a slight bit embarrassed. 

    Michael laughed, looking at her in the same blissed-out state. God, it was so good to hear his laughter again.

    "I missed you," he admitted, caressing her cheek with his hand, and she leaned into his touch.

    "I missed you too," she said, before diving in to kiss him again, relishing in the feeling of his lips against hers, trying to memorize every single piece of him.

    Only God knew when she would be able to do that again. 

#giowritess #michael corleone #michael corleone smut #michael corleone fanfic #al pacino #al pacino fanfic #smut #writing #the godfather #the godfather fanfic #kinktober #kinktober prompts #kinktober writing #smut fanfic

[areaderinlove]

requests

someone please give me any character to write for smut fluff angst anything i really need to keep my mind off thinking about my upcoming igcse results a month is left and i’m kind of tense 

#anthony bridgerton fanfic #anakin imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #frank castle imagine #michael corleone x reader #darkling x reader #natasha phoenix trace #natasha romanoff #marc spector smut #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson x reader #andrew garfield peter parker x reader #pete maverick mitchell #001 x reader #henry creel x reader #carlos sainz jr imagines #carlos sainz jr smut

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Masterlist

A list of my old writing that you can request I revise

Song Prompts

Meeting and Dating Headcanons~

Pretty in Pink

Andie Walsh

Duckie Dale

Blane McDonagh

Steff McKee

Sixteen Candles 

Jake Ryan

The Lost Boys

Paul

Dwayne

Poly Lost Boys

Edgar Frog

The Breakfast Club

Brian Johnson

John Bender

Andrew Clark

The Outsiders

Sodapop Curtis

Dallas Winston

Two-Bit Mathews

Rumblefish

Steve Hays

Ferris Buellers Day Off

Cameron Frye

Karate Kid

Daniel Larusso

Johnny Lawrence

Dutch

Heathers

Veronica Sawyer

Jason Dean

Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Jeff Spicoli

Brad Hamilton

Better Off Dead 

Lane Meyer

Weird Science

Gary Wallace

Wyatt Donnelly

Dream A Little Dream

Dinger Holfield

Bill and Teds Excellent Adventure

Bill S. Preston Esquire

Ted Logan 

Dating Poly Bill and Ted 

The Princess Bride

Inigo Montoya

Interview with the Vampire

Louis de Pointe du Lac

Children of the Corn

Malachai Boardman

National Lampoons 

Rusty Griswold (European Vacation)

Cant Buy Me Love

Kenneth Wurman

The Chocolate War

Jerry Renault

Archie Costello

The Mighty Ducks

Fulton Reed

Dean Portman

Adam Banks

Les Averman

Porkys

Brian Schwartz

Anthony ‘Meat’ Tuperello

Tommy Turner

Tim Cavanaugh

Mickey Jarvis

Just One of the Guys

Terry Griffith

Greg Tolan

Dead Poets Society 

Neil Perry

Todd Anderson

Charlie Dalton

Knox Overstreet

Steven Meeks

Earth Girls are Easy

Mac

Combat Academy 

Perry Barnett

Waynes World

Garth Algar

Austin Powers

Austin Powers

Toy Soldiers

Ricardo Montoya

Good Will Hunting

Chuckie Sullivan

10 Things I Hate About You

Joey Donner

My Bodyguard

Ricky Linderman

Melvin Moody

Stand and Deliver

Angel Guzman

Something Wild 

Ray Sinclair

Three O’Clock High 

Buddy Revell

Intruder

Randy

Young Guns

Jose Chavez y Chavez

Billy the Kid

Doc Scurlock

Dazed and Confused

Benny O’Donnell

Don Dawson

Kevin Pickford

Randall “Pink” Floyd

Fred O’Bannion

Mitch Kramer

Ron Slater

Shavonne Wright

Dogfight

Eddie Birdlace

Ladybugs

Matthew

Goosebumps

Sticks

Freddy Renfield

Twister

Robert ‘Rabbit’ Nurick

Stand by me 

Ace Merrill

School Ties

Rip Van Kelt 

Chris Reece

The Untouchables

Eliot Ness

The Godfather

Tom Hagen

(Young) Vito Corleone

(Old) Vito Corleone

Goodfellas

Henry Hill

Little Shop of Horrors

Seymour Krelborn

Newsies

Specs

Near Dark

Severen

Friday the 13th

Jason Voorhees

Scream

Billy Loomis 

Poly Billy and  Stu

Stu Macher

The Craft

Nancy Downs

Hocus Pocus

Max Dennison

Thackery Binx

Beetlejuice

Lydia Deetz

Adam Maitland

The Crow

Eric Draven

Ghostbusters

Ray Stantz

Aliens

Bishop

An American Werewolf in London

Jack Goodman

Sleepaway Camp

Ricky Thomas

Re-animator

Herbert West

Silence of the Lambs

Clarice Starling

Fright Night

Jerry Dandridge

Candyman

Daniel Robitaille

The Evil Dead

Ash Williams

Sabrina the Teenage Witch

Harvey Kinkle

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Spike

Full Metal Jacket

Sgt. Hartman

Joker

Animal Mother

Pyle

Preference~ the boys with an s/o whose ex stalks them

Grease

Kenickie

Labyrinth

Jareth

Total Recall

Douglas Quaid

Requested “Would Includes” and Imagines/Fics~

Darry falling for Johnny’s sister

Allison Reynolds dating a shy nerdy girl

Starting a family with Cameron Frye

Making out with Cameron Frye

Cameron Frye comforting you when you’re upset

Getting drunk with the Ferris Bueller crew

Gary Wallace dating a tall girl

George Mcfly with a dominant flirty s/o

Comforting and being comforted by Will Hunting

Will Hunting having a crush on you

Being apart of the good will hunting gang

Armand with a virgin s/o (including nsfw)

Lestat and Louis dating a girl who loves horror movies

Making out with Duckie Dale

Duckie Dale cheering you up

Cliff having a crush on you

Making out with Cliff

Making out with Bryce

Bryce having a crush on you

The Lost Boys with an s/o having an anxiety attack + fighting depression

The Lost Boys with a sweet and innocent s/o

The Lost Boys with a curvy mate

The Lost Boys fighting with their mates

The Lost Boys dating a shy short girl

The Lost Boys taking care of you when you’re hurt

Getting drunk with the Lost Boys would include

David x Laddies older sister

Making out with Edgar Frog

Being Married to Archie Costello

Going to the beach with Archie Costello

Making out with Archie Costello

Darrys girlfriend landing a job at a local cafe as a singer

Making out with Kenneth Wurman

Being Cindys friend and Ronalds crush

Harold Sherbico having a crush

Kim Kelly dating her polar opposite

Neil Perry dating an artist

Making out with Charlie Dalton

Jealous Charlie Dalton

Jealous Knox Overstreet

A study date with Steven Meeks

Spending the winter season with Neil Perry

Comforting Charlie Dalton after he gets expelled 

The dead poets walking in on Charlie and his secret, shy girlfriend 

Simon Boggs having a crush on Laneys friend

Faking It-Cindy Mancini falling for the girl who paid her to be her friend

Spike having a crush on you

Steff McKee having a crush on you

Marko having a crush on you

David having a crush on you 

Paul having a crush on you

Dwayne having a crush on you

Dwayne x vampire reader who dresses like Stevie Nicks

Making out with Keith Nelson

Meat having a crush on Peewees sister

Admit it- Mickey Jarvis and his future s/o having crushes on each other

Being a part of team USA and meeting Adam and Charlie

Dwayne Robertson having a crush on you

Sleepover with Bill and Ted (including nsfw)

Being pregnant with Ted Logans child

Starring in the schools Romeo and Juliet with Ted Logan

Ted Logan asking you to be his valentine

Spending Valentines day with Steff McKee

Spending Valentines day with Steven Meeks

Spending Valentines day with Keith Nelson

Spending your first Valentines day with Bryce

Wishing I Was Her (Nick Andopolis)

If You Want Out Just Say It (Ace Merrill)

Going on the Ferris adventure

Going on your own adventure with Cameron Frye

Making out with Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd

Travelling back in time with Marty McFly

Tommy Devito dating a chubby artist

Years Gone By (Michael Corleone)

Sonny Corleone dating his opposite

Phillipe Gaston x reader~ Fairy Tale 

Being Fulton's sister and Dating Dean Portman

Comforting Todd when he’s upset

Being married to Bill S. Preston Esquire

Being married to Ted Logan

Spending Halloween/October with Knox Overstreet

Making out with Knox

A will they, won’t they relationship with Seth Brundle

Falling in love with Edward Scissorhands

Dwayne Hicks with an Android!Technician s/o

Private Joker dating an artist 

Jareth falling in love with you

Being married to Matt Hooper and going to Amity

The way you make me feel~ John Bender

Being in a long term relationship with JD

J.D. with a chronically ill s/o

Archie with a chronically ill s/o

Making out with Ted Logan

Archibald Craven falling in love

Andy Dufresne falling in love

Nsfw Headcanons~ 

Group sex with the lost boys

Sam Emerson

Threesome with Obie and Archie

Armand

Archie Costello

(sub) Archie Costello

Obie

Johnny Cade

Cameron Frye

Duckie Dale

Blane

John Bender

Randy (Intruder)

Joey Donner

Kenneth Wurman

Keith Nelson

The Dead Poets Kinks

Knox Overstreet

Charlie Dalton

Steven Meeks

Todd Anderson

Neil Perry

Gerard Pitts

John Bender taking your virginity

Louis de Pointe du Lac

Dinger Holfield

The Lost Boys

JD

Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd

Benny O’donnell

Fred O’Bannion

Cliff

Bryce

Johnny Walker

George Mcfly

Brian Moreland

(sub) Perry Barnett 

Bill S. Preston Esquire

Ted Logan

Randy Meeks

Michael Emerson

Nancy Downs

Ray Stantz

Egon Spengler

Spike

Angel Guzman

Sgt. Hartman

Brad Hamilton

Douglas Quaid

Chris (night of the creeps)

Sonny Corleone with a shy, virgin s/o

George Mcfly getting jealous and being dominant

Grease Monkey (Keith Nelson smut)

Sins of the flesh and matters of the heart (David x reader + Dwayne smut)

#80s movies #80s imagine #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s smut #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanon #80s movie smut #90s movies #90s imagine #90s movie headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s tv show imagine #90s tv headcanons

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 42 – Matrimony.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 41 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“You’re a Corleone woman now, after all." / “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

You married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949, binding the allyship of your two families together but sealing your matrimony with love, bliss and trust. Falling in love, compatibility, love languages and a change in your lifestyle met you in an instant, and being Mrs. Michael Corleone altered your life forever. You can still remember how you fell for him and every bit of affection and intimacy shared from the beginning. You remember; you remember it all, and as you look into the past to compare it to your present and expect for your future, you realize nothing remains changed.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions of virginity/loss of virginity, nudity, sexual themes & depictions, heavy touching & kissing, fingering, mentions of pregnancy & planning for children, sex.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: The first in-between chapter of Moth to Flame: Part II is finally here!! 😫🙏🏻 I'm sooo sorry for such a delay in posting this chapter, but life has been extremely hectic and busy. 😭 The Vichael girlies are going to adore this chapter is all I'm going to say! We delve into Victoria and Michael's marriage from the very beginning! 🤭❤️‍🔥 This is filled with romance, fluff and domestic wholesomeness. How Victoria and Michael fell in love to how their lives changed as husband and wife and more is all included. I wanted this to be very romantic and sensual before we dive back into the action of current day Moth to Flame! 😳

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

Bouquets of pink and white roses, white silk, lilac adornments, angel food cake, the lace finishing over your wedding gown, and the taste of Michael’s lips over yours; you married Michael Corleone in the summer of 1949.

Planning for your wedding was one of the few and only times in your life when you felt you had a million things going through your mind at once. 

After weeks of careful planning, the hardest part—the wedding itself—came in bliss and resonated perfectly with everything you had in mind for your perfect wedding day. 

The colors you chose for your wedding ranged from an equal hint of décor in baby pink, lilac, and beige, whereas peonies, lilacs, and dahlias were your flowers of choice.

Silk tablecloth, handcrafted Italian furniture imported from Sicily, seven-tier angel food cake, seven varieties of cannoli from pistachio to limoncello, over a hundred bottles of wine—Grilo, Inzolia and Grecanico just to name a few—aged at least ten years, French champagne, little pastries of sorbets and mini cheesecakes served throughout and freshly squeezed juice from the fruit from the Corleone garden itself were just some of the highlights of your wedding day.

Even your wedding gown itself had been custom designed and tailored with the finest Italian silks and fabrics, following a lengthy session of perfecting your hair, makeup, and manicure with your mother, Mama Corleone, Connie, and Sandra down to rehearing how you would walk down the aisle to which sets of jewelry with diamonds and pearls suited you best. 

Everything was planned and executed to perfection—to say the least. Scarcely were there moments throughout the planning period where the wedding wasn’t mentioned in one way or another; it was the only topic on your mind for days to come.

Consummation of your marriage was expected next from all through tradition and customs, but it wasn’t a concept you and Michael personally believed in. 

Although you were a virgin before you met Michael, he most certainly was not. After his brief marriage with Apollonia, the concept of no intimacy until marriage let alone time spent together or some form of physical affection before marriage was seen and strictly enforced as heavily taboo in Sicily only reminded him of how backward he believed the concept to be, as did you.

Of course, you and Michael were both anticipating and thinking about the intimacy you’d share with one another after your wedding celebration, but not immediately after. That would be eagerly waiting for the both of you at the end of the night.

With the wedding cake having been cut, final drinks served and last dances shared, both of your families collected together all of the bridal gifts, thanked and said goodbyes to every guest they could get to while the wedding staff began to clean up.

Michael and you stood for more photographs by and with guests, thanking them for attending as well before you both made off with security to the vehicle that would take you to your first estate.

You’d both arrive at your new estate by the time security did a full sweep and search of the Corleone manor and all festivities had officially come to an end.

Before you and Michael would settle down for the remainder of the day after the wedding, you both went to meet with your families and new in-laws.

Tomorrow morning there’d be the wedding reception to look forward to after all, but there was more than enough for both you and Michael to think about and do before then.

~

Upon stepping out of your chauffeur’s vehicle at your new estate’s grounds, the first thing your eyes found were those of your bodyguards surrounding your new estate.

Noting the heavy yet inconspicuous security around, it was only a split second longer before you blinked and a warm smile crossed over your lips in reaction to Michael standing by your side; his hand laced with yours as you both began to make your way inside the estate.

Just a few feet from the front door you could already hear the cheerful voices and banter of your parents and in-laws in the foyer; you couldn’t help but feel your exhilarated mood amplify with excitement once more.

“Victoria! Michael! Sweetheart!” Your mother beamed, extending her arms out as she skipped over to the both of you.

Hugged, congratulated a dozen more times, and kissed by your parents and new-in-laws, happy tears are shed once again for you and Michael as a newlywed couple.

“Promettimi che mi chiamerai se ti serve qualcosa!” (Promise me you'll call if you need anything!) Carmela gently squeezed your shoulder after pulling away from a hug, smiling at you. 

“Home sweet home,” your mother cooed, bewildered by the grandiose luxury your new estate has to offer just by standing in the foyer alone. “How wonderful.”

“We’re looking forward to that wedding reception,” your father grinned, redirecting his gaze to Michael. “It’ll be an honor to dine in the newlyweds’ home.”

“It’s an honor to host,” Michael agreed, giving a small, quick smile. “I look forward to it, Don Ferrari.”

“Mm,” Vito nodded, approaching both you and Michael. “And the bridal gifts… I had them arranged to be placed in your guest room. Humble gifts as they may be from our family friends, but they’re close to overflowing.”

“A problem I’d actually like to deal with,” you giggled back. “Thank you, father.”

Naturally, the gifts you received from attending friends, family, and guests aren’t exclusive to gifts newlyweds would benefit from, but a wide variety of items ranging from cash bills to jewelry almost as if the givers were trying to appease you and Michael directly.

Without even having to look inside all of the bridal purses and open each individual gift, you already assumed to yourself there are thousands of dollars worth of gifts there alone waiting for you and Michael that may very well take days to completely open.

Your families deliberately didn’t stay for long to give you and Michael as much privacy as possible today, and you and Michael were more than happy to see them out with waves and smiles before settling down for the rest of the day.

“It’s not over for them,” Michael commented by the gates of the estate, loosening his tie.

“No, it isn’t,” you let out a light laugh, smoothening down your wedding gown. “Not until after the wedding reception, at least.”

Michael chuckled—a rare first time he’s in a somewhat lighthearted mood for the entirety of the day. “Do you need anything, darling?”

“No,” you blushed, gesturing down to your dress. “Only to get this lovely gown off of me in one piece and my makeup at last.”

Just a split second later, you both heard a sharp whistle come towards the gates of the estate which prompted you and Michael’s attention immediately. 

“Hey, Mikey!” Sonny hollered from the gates, leaning against his car and waving at both of you. “No invitations for Tom, Fredo, and I to see the new place, eh? Come on down!”

“I’ll be right with you,” Michael glanced back at you.

You nodded understandingly, relieved you’ll at least get the time to quickly undress and take off your makeup before finally getting to spend some time alone with Michael, and you’re more than happy to have Michael bond with his brothers before retiring for the rest of the day with you too.

The endless amounts of gifts and stuffed bridal purses crossed your mind once more as you entered the estate, imagining you and Michael would more than likely have to get Tom to secure any precious assets or cash bills while the other items remain secure.

You carefully slipped out of your wedding gown and let the lacy, tulle fabric pool at your feet as you grabbed a white, silk nightgown to step into; careful not to let any of your makeup smear against the fabric.

You’re not one to wear a full face of makeup on any regular day, but outings, special events, and evenings—especially your wedding—remain exceptions each time you enjoyed getting dolled up, but your daily beauty routine only consisted of your normal skincare steps, light eye makeup, a bit of eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick.

Upon Michael’s return inside the estate and to the bedroom to undress and unwind, it was his first time gazing upon your face without any makeup as you cautiously stored your nightgown away in an empty closet.

You hadn’t even noticed Michael’s eyes on you at first but picked up on his presence immediately; right then and there, Michael had found himself admiring your beauty and looks, stunned by your natural appearance.

“More congratulations?” You smiled shyly, turning around to face your new husband.

“Something like that,” Michael answered, tossing his tie onto the edge of the bed. “Nothing we both haven’t heard enough of.”

You held back your laughter, “then I hope you don’t mind I retired my glamor for the night already.”

“Not at all,” a ghost of a smile crossed Michael’s lips as he slowly began to approach you. “I’m sure the bridal gifts have nothing but your name on them, after all. I don’t think I need to go and see for myself.”

“Oh, please,” you felt a blush stinging your cheeks as you gazed up at Michael.

“You look beautiful,” Michael murmured, tilting your chin up to face him. “You know that?”

Your skin gave a healthy glow under the evening light as Michael admired every inch of you from the shape of your cheekbones to the color of your eyes, the curve of your lips, and your body language towards him filled with desire.

You expected then and there for Michael to lean in and kiss you, and he did, but gently upon your forehead as he let his warm lips linger over your skin.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment and embraced your husband, taking in the scent of his heavenly cologne as your heart began to race in your chest against his.

“You should expect all of this, you know,” Michael spoke to you in an ushered voice. “You’re a Corleone woman now, after all. Those gifts want nothing more than to appease and impress you, I’ll make sure of it myself.”

Michael’s intention is to spoil you to no avail and not only with material gifts but your every request; the luxurious lifestyle you can expect to live with him as Michael’s wife and the future mother of his children holds you on a separate pedestal next to being Don Ferarri’s wife, and Michael will continue to keep it that way.

The very gifts with your name engraved upon them awaiting you consisted of everything from cosmetics, luxurious perfumes, oils, and creams, full sets of dazzling jewelry set with diamonds and precious stones, congratulatory letters, towel sets followed by pacifiers, bibs, baby bottles, and cloth diapers that made you blush as you unwrapped them—knowing all would be expecting the news of your first pregnancy next.

An amused look crossed Michael’s eye as he wrapped his arms around you seeing you open the final present for today a set of two pacifiers, he saw a look of excitement over your own expression but also blush spreading over your cheeks as the two of you made eye contact once again, knowing the rest of the night began to the both of you. 

~

The first home you and Michael owned together and settled in was a grand estate in Long Island but outside of the Corleone mall unlike Connie and Carlo’s home and that of Sonny and Sandra’s that were inside the gated family community.

Still, your new home was not far from Michael’s family or yours, and you could make the commute in twenty minutes. 

The plot of land in which your new estate would be built was purchased immediately on the day of your engagement ceremony with construction where your father and Vito had given the green light for construction to begin the day of.

Normally for the size of your estate, it would have taken a good construction crew six months with daily work, but the home was completely finished in just one. Bringing in extra of the best workers and paying a premium always worked well in the end. 

Your grand estate stood at just slightly over five thousand square feet with state-of-the-art architecture, taking inspiration from Modern American design to Italian fixtures and marble imported from Rome. 

Your estate was two stories, finished with an attic consisting of a master bedroom with a walk-in closet designed to be almost the size of a small bedroom for you and Michael, a study that was half a private library, two guest rooms downstairs, a nursery upstairs, a wine room in the basement, full front and back yard, three other extra bedrooms, an office for Michael and four bathrooms.

A mid-sized swimming pool was built in the backyard where your home’s carefully curated and trimmed garden surrounded the sides and fences protected your family’s privacy so one could neither look into the estate grounds nor out of it.

Twenty-four-hour surveillance was always to be expected with varying bodyguards and a careful selection of specific windows—such as the ones in Michael’s office—were selected and built to be soundproof.

Your bathtub had 24k gold claw-finished, quartz countertops as well as in the kitchen, marble floors, a foyer in the front of the estate fit with a French handcrafted chandelier, a private exit to the gardens and plenty of storage with a full laundry room at the end of the hallway downstairs.

Crown fixtures adorned the kitchen and a wide spiral staircase decorated with a blood-red carpet led upstairs to where one of two hidden emergency exits only you and Michael knew how to activate could be found.

The price of your home came to a grand total of $250,000 and was exactly where you and Michael wanted to be; exactly where the two of you planned to start your family and raise your children.

Michael and you had both grown up in Long Island; meaning nothing short of symbolic with the feel of home settling into your first house in New York together.

You and Michael only had a brief discussion about where your first home could be since the two of you came to an agreement so quickly to choose Long Island to stay in.

At the time, thoughts of buying another home elsewhere or even moving in the future were not on your mind although Michael had begun to think of Nevada and a villa in Sicily almost immediately on; the latter being a familiar and mutually agreed upon idea to you.

Of course, both you and Michael’s family knew just as well as the both of you why you didn’t have a honeymoon after your wedding, and there were no questions asked or teasing to be made.

Going on a honeymoon with Michael after your wedding was in your mind just as much as your wedding was, but the same could not be said for Michael who was much too preoccupied with the danger and threat of another family war, especially with hostility coming from the Ricci family.

Going outside of New York—let alone going to Sicily—would paint a clear, red target over both your and Michael’s backs and especially create vulnerability within the Corleone family considering Vito was semi-retired at the time.

It didn’t matter if you and Michael decided to visit Rome, Venice, or anywhere else in Italy just for the sake of visiting home but staying away from Sicily; the mafia families including the Ricci’s still had power stretching there legitimately.

Naturally, both you and Michael yearned to take a true honeymoon trip to Sicily and Sicily only. Even with the rest of the world as a choice to visit, you would have rather continued to postpone your honeymoon until you could safely visit Sicily again without having to worry about anything but how to spend quality time with your husband.

You’d very well have your honeymoon with Michael a little after your first anniversary together, somewhat defeating the purpose of a true honeymoon but with the threat of your lives and your family on the line, it was all very worth it with a legitimate reason to delay.

In Michael’s second marriage now come hell or high water he would never risk a slight chance of you being anywhere where there’s a notion of danger, even if you begged him to.

“Well,” you bit your lip, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m a little disappointed, but I understand.”

“I know, darling,” Michael raised his water glass to his lips, taking a sip. “I feel no different than you do.”

You brushed your fingers against the fabric of the window’s curtains and glanced over to Michael again. “They’ll know, won’t they?”

Michael’s eyes met with yours almost instantly; his expression appeared grim knowing you referred to the Ricci family, but with the Barzinis and Tattaglias to worry about as well.

“As they do,” Michael replied and set his glass down. “Does it bother you?”

“Not exactly,” you shook your head and faced the window—blushing as you felt Michael’s presence approach you from behind. “But it’s been on my mind again and again these past few weeks. I can’t shake it off.”

“And on mine,” Michael lovingly embraced you from behind and lightly pressed his chest against your back. “As much as I would like to degrade them to such, they’re not animal enough to disgrace a wedding, even without an invite.”

“They should know better,” you murmured under your breath.

“And they more than likely do,” Michael nodded and moved his hands down to your hips to tenderly caress them. “None of those men deserve further justifications, but above all, they’re curious about you, and just who you are.”

You placed your hands over Michael’s and gave them a soft squeeze as you remained quiet.

“If it’s about safety—” Michael began.

“I feel safe with you,” you told him as you turned around.

Michael’s eyes locked onto yours as he gave you a small nod; you swore to yourself for a moment that you could see a glimmer of a brief smile over his plush lips. 

“I do,” you continued, “always. And as you can guess…” You blushed sheepishly, “I was thinking about our honeymoon too, and we can’t even go.”

“We will soon enough,” Michael rubbed up and down your arms gingerly. “When we are able to and when we can. You know it’s not something I want to put aside to forget or neglect.”

“I know, baby,” you smiled back shyly. “I believe you.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Michael lowered his tone of voice and pressed a warm kiss over your forehead. “I promise I will. None of what our family is going through now will last. I personally guarantee it,” as Michael moved back from the kiss, he tilted your chin up to gaze directly into his eyes. “You’re my bride. You deserve that and all the more, do you understand?”

Blushing furiously and feeling a wave of butterflies rush to the pit of your stomach, you nodded at Michael before leaning up to give his lips a sweet kiss.

“I’ll wait until you say we can go,” you whispered against his lips as you wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders.

“Until then,” Michael murmured and closed off the distance between both of your bodies, ensnaring you in a deep kiss once more.

~

Michael’s changed lifestyle to a mafioso and your continued one as a mafiosa would never change. You both married one another knowing what your lives are and would continue to be, but also remaining unaltered.

You’re a lawyer, after all, and a skilled prosecutor with a name made for herself—reputation and all—in New York. Your career is more than something you see to corrupt and use for your “family business”, but is also a passion; something you want to continue doing until you feel ready to retire.

Michael was always impressed as to how you were able to find a passionate career that also benefited both sides of the family business. 

Through being a lawyer, you also bonded well with Tom and had another fellow lawyer as a brother-in-law to bond with.

Regardless of whether you and Michael choose to have one child a fear down the line or four back to back, Michael has no intention of interfering in your career or keeping you from it; the same can be said for any of your other passions and hobbies.

You already know your maternity leave from work and raising an infant will take priority in your life which will result in a break from work, but you’ve accepted it and will make it happen. 

Perhaps if you weren’t a mafiosa yourself from a powerful crime family, you would have fit the bill as a mafioso’s housewife better but Michael recognizes your true talents and abilities just as well as you know yourself.

Now married, you attend trials and continue with your cases at most three times a week. After all, you’ve always been careful in choosing which cases to get involved in while maintaining a flexible schedule for yourself.

You built a reputation with your prowess this far without Michael and his family’s influence, which begs the question of what Michael’s lifestyle has become after marrying you.

Michael is always working, even when he’s not. More than ever, Michael spends time with his father and brothers. Even when Michael is alone in his own office, he’s talking over the phone to his men or family and constantly keeping himself preoccupied until he’s with you.

Michael’s unwavering dedication to the family business, his loyalty, and his work ethic don’t bother you. As a matter of fact, it’s everything you expected from Michael and saw coming before you married him.

What you love about Michael’s work with the family business is that he can separate it and he will separate it very well from his personal life. 

Michael does not mention anything related to his work when he’s with you regardless of how casual the circumstances or if your own curiosity arises since your family is also almost always involved. 

You know then and only in those scenarios would you ask Michael a question if you had one and your family could not answer; you know your boundaries and where the line remains when asking Michael about his work.

To Michael, any mention of what he does and what he is outside of work is nothing but severely unpleasant and he would rather avoid it altogether; something you respect and agree with.

At dinner one evening, you saw Michael’s tension settled within him as he ate—sitting across from you in silence. 

Michael sighed quietly and took a sip of his red wine before his eyes met yours; seeing curiosity spark in your expression.

“Ready to settle down, baby?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Something like that,” Michael nodded, continuing to eat his risotto. 

“Everything alright with your father?” You asked and rose up from your seat to begin cleaning up. 

“He’s fine,” Michael’s answers were dry and to the point on purpose. “We’re working on it.”

“Alright,” you gathered a pile of empty plates, brushing off crumbs upon the tablecloth next to Michael.

Only a split second later did you look back up at Michael and catch his eye—almost feeling embarrassed for asking but you neither see annoyance nor discomfort in Michael’s expression. 

You understood Michael didn’t want to talk about this with you and you didn’t push it. You also knew last night he didn’t come home from his father’s estate until 2 AM, and you had no intention of bothering him about it now. 

You’ve always had more than enough to do for yourself and for the home regardless of how long Michael worked in or out of the manor. 

You’d have your own day to worry about; cleaning up after breakfast, prepping for lunch, tidying up the house, laundry if required, getting any other daily errands done, focusing on a bit of your own work projects, then relaxing with a good book or in front of the television with a glass of wine. 

You could step out into the garden for some fresh air, pull weeds, water the lawn, go for a walk or a dip in the pool; you balance your work and life well and you’ve never felt neglected or lost without a sense of purpose.

The compatibility between you and Michael is like none other and the two of you have always recognized this; there is no lack of transparency or intimacy, and there is no elephant in the room blocking the two of you from bonding with one another.

You and Michael could and always will make it work. 

~

When it came down to planning to start a family with each other, having children was brought up immediately between Michael and you; a crucial concept and the second step into a married life with one another.

Of course, the brief conversation that only consisted of asking one another if you wanted children when you and Michael had first met did not count as a real and insightful conversation, it did strike you that Michael was a mature and serious man, ready for fatherhood and expecting to start a family in the very near future.

Michael would not have minded waiting a year or two before having children, but he would personally not wish to delay it any further past that.

To Michael, it was as if he had an urgency of some kind to start a family but there was no reasoning behind it or pressure coming from anyone. Still, you came to appreciate how much Michael anticipated entering parenthood with you, regardless of his reasons.

Perhaps you did sense Michael’s urgency when he first met you and asked if you wanted to have children in the future, but you simply had brushed it off for all that it was—a simple question.

You were twenty-five years old when you met Michael, and you were the second youngest sibling in your family and the only daughter.

With your little brother Dante being fifteen years younger than you, you practically raised him alongside your brothers and because you came from an equally large extended family, you loved children for as long as you could remember.

Just as you and your brothers had grown up, you knew the importance of proper parenting and how love would mold a child’s life forever.

Michael believed children were the products of their parents’ discipline, love, and behavior, saying, “If adults can bring out the worst in each other, they can do the same for children”.

Michael himself was twenty-nine when he met you and neither of you had objections of any kind to starting a family immediately after getting married.

Coming from the families and reputations you both grew up in and had, things such as time and money would simply not be an issue for you and Michael.

It was more of a matter of readiness and active parenting heavily required from both of you equally, not just yours as the mother. 

You also knew Michael would be a stricter parent than you, but this did not imply anything harsh or along the lines of cruelty whatsoever. 

Michael is not the type of man to ever raise a hand against a child or even raise his voice; calm, and collected, and with thorough explanation comes discipline and understanding. Michael knows how a child’s mind copes and works. 

You are most definitely not the kind of parent to yell, threaten, let alone glare at children to have them respect or tolerate your fear let alone beat a child.

Neither Michael nor you ever faced such things growing up, but you both saw your fair share growing up with other children at school and in the neighborhood who did not have the same childhood as you two did.

Any type of abuse or psychological manipulation was a severe hard line; it was something you and Michael would never subject any child to, ever.

From being the only big sister to your little brother Dante, you knew there were a million ways around teaching and disciplining children without being physically, psychologically, or verbally abusive—even to children who have behavior issues. 

You and Michael had been stressing to yourselves subconsciously the need to be nothing but good, loving parents teaching your future children manners and discipline early on without fear of repercussions or pain, but simply just to learn and understand.

~

Just a week ago you walked down the aisle and faced your lover—for the last time only as a lover before becoming Michael’s wife, wedded as Mrs. Corleone.

Now as you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the role of Michael Corleone’s wife had already truly embedded in you; seeing your husband clasping a new diamond necklace around your neck gently.

You blushed as you caught Michael’s eye in the mirror, placing a hand over your necklace carefully.

Michael admired the glistening diamonds over your neck; his eyes adoring the very shape of your collarbones before he leaned toward your shoulder and planted a soft kiss over it.

With a bit of arousal having flared up in you, you shivered from Michael’s warm touch as he let his hands linger around the back of your neck before he placed them on your hips.

“Mm,” your eyes fluttered shut as you took in the brief moment, feeling Michael’s breath over the side of your neck.

Michael’s hands slowly made their way over to your stomach where he rubbed tenderly, watching as your body language submitted to how good he was already making you feel.

“Are you late?” Michael murmured over your shoulder.

Butterflies churned in your stomach and blush stung your cheeks at the very question. “I think it’s still too soon to tell, baby.”

“Mm,” Michael nodded and began to massage your sides.

“Why do you ask?” You slowly opened your eyes and spoke to him in a soft, ushered tone. “Do you suspect I am?”

“Perhaps,” Michael answered, “I want to be the first to know.”

You cracked a shy smile, “and you will be without a doubt.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Michael took your hands in his, turning you around to face him directly before he pulled you into his embrace. “Although you never did tell me how many you wanted.”

“I can tell you now,” you rested your head over Michael’s chest and nodded. “Four little ones… That would be something.”

“Mhmm,” Michael kissed the top of your head. “A topic better suited for the future after we have our first.”

“Boy or girl?” You grinned and looked up at your husband.

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael told you. “But ultimately a son somewhere down the line to succeed our family.”

‘Of course.’ You knew it must have been the same with Michael’s father as it was with yours; one son at the very least to carry the family’s legacy under his name. ‘Understandable.’

“If you’re not…” Michael’s hands touched your hips again; his eyes beckoning to you. “Then we can try again.”

“And again?” You teased back, giggling. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Michael murmured and pulled your hips into his.

“As many times as we need to, hmm?” Your breath hitched as you bit down on your lip.

“As many times as you want to,” Michael corrected before he sealed a kiss over your lips.

~

The intimacy and love continuing to blossom between you and Michael unfolded in feverish desire and yearning. Like the beginning of an eternal and dangerous addiction, neither of you could get enough of the other.

Michael knew your love language was physical affection and words of affirmation just as you knew he was spending quality time with you and touching. 

Michael couldn’t care less for material gifts and preferred experiences above all, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t care, enjoy, or appreciate either.

“Ah…” A breathy moan escaped your lips as your hand clutched over Michael’s back; feeling his firm, flexing muscle as Michael remained leaning down and hovering over your naked body.

Between the sounds of Michael’s lips leaving a trail of hot kisses over your neck, you heard his breathing hitching as his throbbing erection pressed against your stomach.

Barely a week into your marriage and filled to the brim with insatiable love and desire, Michael was unable to get enough of his new bride and her beauty.

“Ohhh…”

Inhaling deeply, Michael took in your scent as he nuzzled your neck; now glowing pink with the love marks he left behind as you had let your free hand roam through Michael’s tousled hair.

“Look at me,” Michael whispered against your lips as he grazed his thumb over your mouth, parting your bottom lip. “Look at me when I make love to you.”

‘Oh God, yes…’

The first three months of marriage may as well have been a fever dream for both of you. 

Of course, none would be surprised at the sudden stamina the new bride and groom have for one another although some teasing and a dirty joke here and there would be in order, but if it wasn’t a night out or quality time spent with the family, Michael and you were doing nothing else but getting lost in one another again and again.

You’d lay in bed naked with the blankets barely covering yourself as you’d watch Michael strip down right in front of you before approaching you on the bed, and Michael enjoyed every second of undressing you himself with his own hands; the way the curves of your hips and fullness of your thighs felt against his hand as your skin was hot to the touch, brimming with passion and your body begging for pleasure was nothing short of ecstasy to Michael.

With your bodies intertwined with one another, you could practically feel Michael’s heart racing against yours; nothing but toe-curling, eye-rolling, intense orgasms, and memorizing every part of each other’s bodies filled your evenings for days to come.

You woke an urge tailored to your pleasure inside of Michael he could not ignore. Even after a night of ecstasy, if you approached him half-naked in the living room and begged Michael to fuck you again, he wouldn’t say no. 

You straddled Michael’s lap and let your lace panties slip off your ankles as you felt the smooth, Italian silk fabric of Michael’s suit brush against your bare skin.

On his lap, you let out a whimpering moan as you pressed your hips against his and ran your hands up Michael’s half-unbuttoned dress shirt; his chest hair brushing past your fingers as you clutched onto his shoulders.

Michael leaned his back against his seat comfortably; his hands ran from your calves to your upper thighs before he cupped your ass and gave it a greedy squeeze.

Michael’s eyes expectantly looked at you. “You play the innocent, sweet role well…” 

“Mm—” You whimpered as you pressed your lips against Michael’s neck from him giving your ass another harsh squeeze.

“But I see right through it,” Michael whispered to you—his tone low and husky. 

“I…” You breathed shakily against Michael’s skin before planting a deep kiss over it; your free hand roamed through his black, silky hair.

You heard a barely audible, soft moan escape Michael’s lips which only intensified the feverish arousal coursing through your veins as you continued to hungrily kiss up and around Michael’s neck.

Michael wrapped one arm around your waist and kept his hand over your ass; his eyes half remained half-opened as he let you get lost within him, taking and getting everything you want.

Your kisses grew wet, hot, and sloppy around Michael’s jawline as you moaned through them yourself; severely aroused to the point where you thought your wetness pooling over the fabric of your panties was soaking through Michael’s trousers.

“Mine…” You cupped Michael’s cheek and turned his face to look him in the eye directly. “All mine…”

“Yours,” Michael said back before his lips sealed over yours in a crushing, needy kiss.

Your pussy throbbed from arousal over Michael’s knee; it practically had a heartbeat of its own from how horny you were feeling towards your husband—so much so that it was almost criminal.

“Look at you,” As Michael pulled away from the kiss, he gripped your throat with his free hand and let his thumb trace the outline of your bottom lip. “Can’t get your hands off of me.”

“You’re mine,” you panted back and took Michael by pleasant surprise as you licked his thumb. “

“That’s right, baby,” Michael murmured before pulling you back to him by your throat to give you another wet, rough kiss over the mouth. 

As you fully straddled Michael’s lap and began to slowly grind your hips, gyrating them against Michael’s pulsating erection, Michael let his hands slip up through your skirt and play with the band of your panties.

Lost in insistent, passionate kisses, Michael pulled at your panties only to let it snap back against your skin as you were distracted between his lips.

Michael let his fingers go further, parting your dewy pussy lips to spread your wetness with one hand while squeezing your breast and massaging your nipple with his fingers on the other.

Aside from such fiery, mutual infatuation and lust, there was more; there was and always will be more. 

The love between you and Michael blossomed so naturally that it could never feel forced like it was some sort of obligation that had to be fulfilled.

In public, despite the two of you being not so fond of blatant displays of affection, held hands or had Michael wrap an arm over your waist in casual but adoring affection you craved and yearned for always.

Just one touch from Michael—let alone his presence—was more than enough for you. It did nothing but thrill you all the more knowing this man is yours and you’re his; you’ll have all of Michael whenever you want and however you want. 

Distance makes your heart grow fonder when Michael’s away on his business trips or doesn’t come home for a night. You’ve never felt insecurity, unsafe, or any sort of lingering sadness about Michael’s consistent absences to begin with.

Even at the end of a long night with little time to yourselves to follow another eventful one, you’d have just the same satisfaction in Michael’s embrace without the sexual intimacy. 

Some of your most loving, romantic nights with Michael were the two of you skin-to-skin on the rooftop, naked and exchanging soft kisses as Michael smoked a cigarette.

Saying, “Yes, I do” and signing your marriage papers, your legal name became Victoria Ferrari Corleone; a unique love and lover to Michael in the sense that Michael could never treat you the way he treated Apollonia or Kay, but exponentially more protective, loving, and open to you in all aspects.

Your compatibility with Michael only resulted in him being all the more open with you; not feeling obligated to because you’ll get upset or ask, but because Michael wishes to—because he wants to. 

There’s simply no entitlement; only love and caring. You could not describe your marriage to Michael Corleone in any other way.

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #the godfather part ii #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic

[melis-writes]

Can you do Victoria facefucking Michael? Please 🥹🥹🥹

Don’t mind if I do. 🥴 🥴Definitely gonna see more of this filthy, dirty smut in the canon fic too. 🥵 Let Don Corleone please and tease Victoria again and again…!

Don't Hold Back.

The sounds of moaning in ecstasy can almost be heard out into the hallway of your estate, amplified and coaxed out of your mouth against your control with each flick of Michael’s hot, wet tongue slicking over your clit.

Burying his face into your pussy like a man starved, Michael laps up at your sweetness—letting your wetness smear over his mouth and dribble down his chin.

“O-Oh my God,” you let out a shuddering gasp through another moan, moving your hips back and forth to grind your clit over Michael’s tongue in a steady rhyhym.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you had heard Michael whisper more than once inbetween your inner thighs orgasm and after orgasm.

Eager to tease and please you until you’re crying out Michael’s name again and again—out of breath, shaking, panting and unable to take any more, Michael keeps his hands clasped over your thighs.

With your hips pinned down onto Michael’s mouth, the intensity of your approaching orgasm only doubles building in your gut from feeling Michael’s nose grind against you clit tingling from arousal.

“Michael,” your bottom lip trembles as you hear Michael groan out against your clit—keeping his mouth open and tongue suckling over your clit relentlessly. “Ooh—yes! Yes!”

Michael’s hands rub over your thighs, caressing them tenderly before he smacks your ass—insisting you go faster.

Michael’s cock throbs, oozing with precum down his shaft at the arousal he gains from feeling orgasm after orgasm coming from you into his mouth with no intention to stop.

‘Faster, faster…’ You bite down on your lip to muffle out your moans to no avail, rolling your eyes back from the heavenly sensations racking over you again and again.

As you speed up, you feel your wetness easily gliding over Michael’s mouth as his tongue explores inbetween the folds of your pussy.

Michael gazes up at you with half open eyes dazed with lust—squeezing your ass harshly. Your breasts jiggle against your chest with how fast you gyrate your hips against Michael’s tongue.

Michael drools over your pussy; his hair tousled and a mess over the bedsheets from the heated session—enjoying the view from below and the taste of your cum over his lips.

“Gonna cum, gonna c-cum again—” You whimper, clenching the bedsheets so harshly that your knuckles strain white. "Oh, baby, please! More!"

You hear Michael quietly chuckle to himself, grinding his stubble against your clit just to watch your squirm over him and your thighs shake against his head.

“Fuck! Oh, Michael, Michael! Michael!” You shriek, unable to stop yourself as you feel your orgasm beginning to release squirting out of you for the fourth time tonight.

#godfather au #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone smut #smut prompts #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic #godfather x reader #godfather smut #canon

[melis-writes]

The Other Woman [Michael Corleone x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut] Chapter 2 – Welcome to The Corleone Family.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 1 / Chapter Masterlist / Fanfic Playlist

18+, explicit smut read.

“You’re a part of our family now in a way, aren’t you?" / "Marina is a teacher—an employee here. She wasn’t brought here to be a friend."

You're greeted with nothing but welcoming smiles and warmth by the Corleone family on your first day teaching, fitting in with the family and getting to know the faces you'll be seeing for years to come. Excited for you to teach Anthony and Mary, Kay has high expectations for you but Michael's expectations carry weight, and he refuses to take his eyes off of you for more than one reason. Meeting Anthony and Mary for their first lessons, the children have warmed up to you already in a way they refuse to towards Kay, sparking Michael's interest and reaffirming his belief as to how different you two are and what impacts you'll have on the children to come. Your attraction to Michael is neither one sided nor unnoticed, but Michael's a patient man and willing to wait until you confess first–one way or another.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions/depictions of smut.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Chapter 2 is finally here as we continue Marina and Michael's story! 🤩 Fitting in, getting to know the family, teaching the children for the very first time and of course...simply being unable to ignore Michael. Such attraction will prove fatal to one or the other, but one of you has to give in first. 😏

Hired by the Corleone family as a governness, you relocate to the Lake Tahoe family compound, looking forward to your future in Nevada until you meet your employer—Michael Corleone. Your future is then ensnared only in lust and forbidden love for Michael since the beginning, and you find yourself yearning for a married man you can never have. Desire and passion clash with one another as Michael takes you to be his mistress—only having an exclusive sexual relationship with you while his sex life with Kay dies out. Knowing from the beginning you’ll never truly be with Michael and that your place in his life is worlds apart from Kay’s as the other woman, the love you have for him consumes you until it threatens to burn out everything you’ve ever had with Michael.

“Anthony and Mary get a little shy when they first meet someone, isn’t that right, hmm?” You can hear Kay’s voice ringing out in your head from when you formally met her yesterday upon your arrival at the Lake Tahoe family compound. “Come on you two, say hello to Marina. She’s going to be your new teacher!” and inevitably, you’ll also become Michael’s new lover and mistress. 

With today marking the first day of you officially working as the governess for the Corleone family, Kay’s words resonate with you more than ever.

You know you shouldn’t be too surprised by the warm greetings, friendliness, and luxuries the Corleone family’s offered you and will continue to offer, but everything’s been perfect from meeting Tom Hagen, signing your work contract, and even the travel to Lake Tahoe.

After all, you’ve never stepped out of New York before. Hell’s Kitchen was your home, your familiarity, and where your family lives despite all that’s occurred over the past decade enough to drive every other family out of there.

Still, there’s a sense of belonging and feeling at home that rushed through you as soon as you entered Nevada. Nevada and Lake Tahoe will be your home for the next little while—perhaps forever if that’s what’s good for you and if that’s what fate brings to you and your family.

Without even knowing it, you subconsciously grew used to feeling like a stranger or that you clearly didn’t “belong” with a sort of alienation when you worked as a governess for other crime families.

Something relieves you in feeling that the Corleones will care about you and put in an effort to get to know you not just as an employee but as a human being with thoughts and feelings whereas your previous employers certainly barely did.

Something completely new to you now is that you’re guaranteed to also enjoy privacy and quarters of your own that are more comparable to a bedroom mansion than the rat-infested shacks New York has to offer for employees to sleep and reside in. 

Privacy is not just in the sense of having a room bigger than almost your parents’ entire home, but that you don’t feel like you’ll always be watched or have to watch every single word you say when and where. 

You don’t take too much of an interest in the “business” side of the Corleone family now though, nor do you plan to do so in the future. 

Then again, you could say the same thing for the Dons that employed you as a civilian governess before too, but you tend to learn things as the years pass whether you like it or not. 

‘I won’t have to worry at all.’ You lazily blink your eyes open, instantly feeling beyond just comfortable in the queen-sized bed you lay in. 

You glance out the corner of your eye towards the window next to your bed covered by the semi-sheer chiffon curtains that show the glistening Lake Tahoe just outside.

You take a deep breath, appreciating the gorgeous sight you’ve woken up to. 

You feel so relaxed and energized sleeping on such a comfortable, clean and new bed after a tiring trip that took more out of you than you realize.

You slept off all of your soreness and any inch of you that was tired last night, ready to start your morning as you slowly come to sit up in bed.

You glance at the alarm clock next to you that you set up last night, seeing you’ve woken just three minutes before it’s supposed to go off.

With a soft grunt, you lean over and turn the alarm clock off so it doesn’t surprise you in a few minutes.

You push aside the layers of plush blankets and the duvet off of you, realizing just how cozy and warm you were snuggled up within them for the past eight hours.

You rarely feel or consider yourself well rested, especially after the death of your brother that seemed to put you on a permanent edge before.

You take a deep breath, get off the bed, and head toward the bathroom at the end of your room. 

As you make your way to the bathroom, you only hear silence from the employee estate you’re in and nothing else from outside of the windows either; a quiet morning greeting your very first day here.

You mentally recap to yourself what you’ll be planning for the day as you switch on the lights to the bathroom and step inside.

Today your teaching is reserved and starts only with and for Anthony and Mary, Michael and Kay’s children. 

You’ll be tutoring Anthony and Mary after breakfast first in Italian lessons in which you intend to test their reading, comprehension, and speaking levels before you teach them a full lesson.

Afterward, you plan to do some English homework with handwriting practice in cursive, and thirdly, finish off the day with piano practice to learn the beginning of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. 

Just on the work table in your bedroom, you have all of your lesson planning and sheets ready for the day.

Michael’s requested for Anthony and Mary to be well-rounded with every subject in expertise based on how his children learn, not general teaching or the way an instructor expects children to learn. 

Michael and Kay also want the same amount of revision time as learning so enough, equal time is spent with Anthony and Mary to go over any mistakes done during lessons to understand why they were made, how to avoid them, and learn from their mistakes or confusion during their studies. 

You’re more than happy to provide all of this for the children ad hope that although Anthony and Mary are quite shy from what you’ve seen that they’ll come around and warm up to you in due time.

You’ve dealt with all kinds of children before, not excluding painfully shy ones. You love teaching children and children in general, having two lifetimes' worth of experience in teaching lessons to the rowdiest, nonconforming ones to quiet, creative intellectuals in the works. 

Your mother always told you that you had the patience of a saint dealing with young children through your studies and work, believing you to be a fantastic mother in the future to your own children too.

You’ve never had children nor the opportunity to, however, just as you haven’t had a romantic interest in your life to marry or settle down with to start a family.

Such ideas aren’t too far from your mind as you’ve already begun to think to yourself that if you’re destined to find that someone, it’ll just have to be in Nevada, won’t it?

With the Corleone family’s connections and insistency on having you with them during their travels and social outings, you can assume the classic meet-and-greet scenario with somebody providing an opportunity someday.

It’s not that you’re counting on finding love in Nevada or anything of the sort, but that you have trust in the Corleone family to feel loved and a part of their family too in a way.

Trust never comes easy or quickly, and you don’t want to do anything to abuse or misuse the trust the Corleone family wants to give you either. 

Today is a new beginning for you, after all.

While you continue to get ready for your day to come down for breakfast with the Corleones, Michael’s purposefully kept Kay curled up in bed with him in the morning as Mama Corleone, Sandra and Theresa prepare breakfast this morning instead.

Michael knows Kay will spend as much time as she needs to in the kitchen to prepare the perfect breakfast for everyone—just one of the reasons why Michael refuses to let her do so this morning.

Michael wants Kay to have more time to get to know you at the breakfast table rather than running around in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, and also because Michael’s insistent as he’s always been on having Kay take it slow and easy during her pregnancies.

Three months pregnant with Michael’s third child—a boy unbeknownst to both—Michael’s word of having Kay relax, rest and not take the lion’s share of the work is final.

Considering it’s one of Michael’s “days off” today with no business or meetings scheduled, Michael awoke with Kay fifteen minutes before you did but with all intent on staying in bed with his wife just a bit longer today.

Michael exhales deeply, awake but with his eyes still closed. He turns to his side in bed, placing a loving hand over Kay’s waist. 

“Good morning, honey,” Kay murmurs softly—her brunette locks a mess over the pillow as she slowly turns to her other side to face Michael.

Michael opens his eyes, slight stubble had grown on his cheeks as he rubs up and down Kay’s sides gently. “Morning, darling.”

“Hi.” Kay whispers, blushing and feeling flustered already from the sight of Michael like this in her bed let alone his voice still laced with sleep.

“Would it be a crime if I stayed in bed with you like this all day?” Kay asks teasingly as Michael raises his hand up to caress her cheek.

“You asked that yesterday,” Michael tilts up Kay’s chin gently, a faint smile of amusement over his lips. “And the day before that, and so forth.”

“Maybe I did.” Kay laughs softly, snuggling up to Michael’s chest. “Can you blame me?”

Only dressed in a white beater top and grey briefs, Kay is in her silky, pale pink nightgown—short and provocative over her just as Michael prefers it.

“Never, darling.” Michael plants a kiss over Kay’s forehead, brushing the loose strands of her hair away from Kay’s face. “How did you sleep?”

“Well.” Kay peeks up at Michael, kissing his cheek. “Very well. And you?”

“Mhmm. Just as much.” Michael nods in agreement, stroking Kay’s hair. 

The two gaze into each other’s eyes lovingly for a moment as Michael notices the obvious spread of rosy blush over Kay’s cheeks just from a mere look; the only woman’s eyes he wants to find himself lost and looking into, for now.

“One day you’ll keep it.” Kay caresses the stubble over Michael’s cheek, pouting at him.

“Not a chance,” Michael murmurs.

“Oh, please.” Kay giggles, grinning at Michael. “You’re effortlessly sexy and you don’t even know it, do you?”

“Sexy?” Michael clutches onto Kay’s side, gently pulling her on top of him. “As you say.”

“Mmm, and God—” Kay straddles Michael, kissing both of his cheeks and snuggling up to his neck. “You smell so good. It’s all over me from last night, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps.” Michael wraps his arms around Kay’s, keeping one hand over her ass which only causes Kay to blush further. “Want to be reminded of it?”

“You tease.” Kay presses her forehead against Michael’s, gently kissing his lips. “Five more minutes, then I have to greet our new guest for breakfast.”

Michael leans up, stealing a kiss from Kay’s lips. “Alright, sweetheart. Come here…”

~

“Marina! Before you head to bed, Don Corleone just wanted me to let you know he’s inviting you to breakfast with the family tomorrow morning. It’ll be held in the courtyard of the central family compound at 7:30. He’s expecting you.” 

You have to admit, despite your initial shyness hitting you from the moment Esther popped into your room to let you know Michael wishes for you to have breakfast with his family, you feel all the more comfortable and welcomed to the family.

After styling your hair and applying a bit of soft eye makeup, you dress in a lacy, white short-sleeved blouse and a brown, plaid pencil skirt with sheer black stockings and a matching pair of kitten heels.

You glance at yourself in the mirror by your dresser, smoothening out your outfit before taking a soft breath before you head out of your bedroom and downstairs towards the central family compound.

As you step down the porch and move towards the center of the Lake Tahoe compound, you gaze up to see several estates surrounding you and providing even more confusion.

The central family estate remains directly in front of you, but your confusion stems from finding out how exactly you’d get into the courtyard for breakfast from where you stand.

‘How am I ever going to get used to this place?’ You playfully complain to yourself, feeling embarrassed for getting lost already without even going anywhere.

“Marina?” An unfamiliar, female voice calls out to you from behind.

You turn around to see a young woman in her thirties—confident from all angles with her body language and demeanor.

Her jet-black hair is styled and cut in a sharp bob bringing attention to her jawline and the glistening diamond earrings clasped over her ears.

Bedazzled in pearl and diamond jewelry, cherry red nail polish on her manicured fingers, and a plum color A-line dress, Connie greets you with a friendly wave. “Hiya. I’m Connie, Michael’s sister.” She extends her hand to you to shake.

‘Michael’s sister.’ You can most definitely see the resemblance from Connie’s facial features.

“It’s nice to meet you, Connie.” You shake Connie’s hand back, seeing a genuine beaming smile form over her face.

“I’m glad I caught up to you on time.” Connie sighs in relief, dramatically gesturing up to the estates in front of the two of you. “Poor girl, given the worst instructions by a lawyer here of all places? You’d need a map to get around.”

You laugh softly, nodding. “Well, yes. I was just trying to figure out how I’d get to the courtyard from here.”

“You’re halfway there.” Connie grins at you, beginning to lead the way. “We’re having breakfast together after all. Come, I’ll show you how to get to the family courtyard. You’ll be coming a lot there anyway, trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” You follow behind Connie, walking around the estate towards a gated courtyard guarded by Rocco—one of Michael’s bodyguards you recognize from yesterday.

Rocco opens the gates to the courtyard the moment he spots you and Connie approaching, although Connie ignores Rocco entirely while walking through.

You give the bodyguard a polite smile, knowing regardless of what kind of employees the Corleones may have, you’ve always been good with names and faces. Just another teacher’s habit.

“Ah, Marina!” Tom smiles, looking up from you at the breakfast table as you and Connie approach. “Glad you could join us.”

You don’t know whether to focus on Tom or the length of the mahogany breakfast table decorated in a white, satin tablecloth stretching out long enough for over twelve people to sit comfortably.

Porcelain and high-quality silverware are served at every seat, and there’s no mistaking the mouth-watering scent of freshly cooked food coming faintly from the back of the family estate either.

“Next time be a gentleman and have someone to escort her here properly, won’t you tom?” Connie’s attitude spikes up as she rolls her eyes at her step-brother, pulling a chair back for you to sit next to her. “It’s a compound and barely Marina’s first day here.”

“Ah, my bad, my bad.” Tom chuckles sheepishly. “I hope it wasn’t any trouble.”

“We figured it out.” You smile back at Tom, getting comfortable in your seat.

You notice Connie’s eyes are at the back door of the estate almost expectantly, but not so much in a pleasant manner as one would await food service.

The moment you turn to look at what has Connie’s attention, the back door of the estate opens as Michael steps out, but without Kay by his side.

Instantly, your cheeks flare up with blush to see the Don step out into the courtyard dressed in a three-piece, navy suit, and black tie.

Freshly shaven with his hair lightly gelled and combed through, the soft, spring breeze flowing through the courtyard does little to calm your arousal when the scent of Michael’s cologne and aftershave hits your nose.

At that moment alone, you can’t feel anything but severe arousal flashing through you—hard to deny you’re not turned on just by the presence of your employer.

Michael makes eye contact with you first before anyone else as he walks out, although fortunately for you Michael can’t see you blushing furiously from where he stands.

‘God…’ Mentally scolding yourself does nothing to quell your undeniable attraction for this man.

You want to desperately look away but at the same time, it’s as if your eyes can’t get enough of him even if you had the opportunity to stare at Michael for hours.

‘I’m going to myself in trouble! Stop! Looking!’ You force yourself to turn your head away, but Michael notices nonetheless. 

Your attraction to Michael Corleone has never been a secret no matter how hard you may have been trying to hide it. Michael knew from the moment you walked into his office yesterday that you’ve been attracted to him, but it’s nothing something exclusive to you.

Michael’s always easily read the body language and chemistry of every woman who entered his life, whether professionally, from family, or romantically. 

Telltale signs of body language, tone of voice, eye movement, and posture give everything away to Michael. 

You aren’t even the least bit aware Michael’s caught you in every moment that you’ve become lost in his gaze, subconsciously reading you like a book and analyzing you, but whether it’s to see if Michael can trust you and understand your personality or out of his own attraction is unknown to you.

You’ll come to learn sooner or later that Michael is a man who makes plans to be ten steps ahead of everyone—you included—at all times.

Noticing how you were just recently flustered by his sudden appearance, Michael’s also aware of how he can make people feel threatened, intimidated, even ashamed, and of course, aroused via attraction to him easily.

Michael purposefully chooses to sit directly in front of you and eye contact is now inevitable.

Yes, you’re his newest employee but you’re also amongst Michael’s family, very new, and neither of you knows one another personally or well at all—for now.

Since you’ll be spending the majority of your time with Michael’s children one-on-one, Michael wants to get to know you inside and out, including every detail of your personal life.

It’s not that Michael feels obliged to since you’re his employer because Michael could easily pay someone to psychoanalyze you every day for the rest of your days as you work for the Corleones, but he won’t. Michael will handle getting to know you inside and out alone.  

“Good morning, Mikey.” Tom greets his brother.

“Tom.” Michael nods in acknowledgment, ignoring Connie’s presence just as much as she ignores him.

Connie remains silent, pulling her silverware closer to herself and pretending as if Michael hasn’t even joined all of you at the table.

Before you can even begin to question the tension between brother and sister, you make unavoidable eye contact with Michael yet again.

“Good morning, Marina,” Michael says to you, keeping an upright posture in his seat.

“Good morning, Michael.” You say back, almost expecting to be scolded for using Michael’s first name feeling it’s wrong to be so casual and forthcoming, but Michael appreciates it.

Michael doesn’t want to be known as “Don Corleone” around you of all people, let alone such a stuffy way of addressing him as “Mr. Corleone” when you aren’t his business partner either.

“I trust you slept well?” Michael continues speaking to you.

“I did, thank you.” You nod at him, “I was exhausted from the trip yesterday, but I wouldn’t know the difference now.”

“Good,” Michael notes, momentarily glancing up at a grumpy Connie next to you. “If you’re still tired or feeling unready, however…”

You shake your head in refusal. “I’m fine, thank you. I’m ready to teach. It’s been a while.”

Michael gazes at you with intrigue, only causing you to blush again but this time clearly in range for Michael to notice your rosy cheeks flaring with blush. 

Barely by moving a muscle or saying much at all, Michael gets a powerful reaction from you each and every time as you still remain composed, polite, and professional.

Unbeknownst to you, Michael confirms his own mutual attraction to you within that gaze alone—as sudden as yours was to him.

In front of Michael, he sees a beautiful woman the same age as Kay—mature, polite, respectful, very well educated with neither your kindness nor optimism faked. 

Seeing you as honest and genuine, Michael can tell you not only want to fit in with the Corleone family, but you want to earn your place among the family too—all that Michael can tell from your eyes which he himself can’t get enough of looking into.

From the way your hair is styled to the depth of your cheekbones, the shape of your lips and nose is nothing short of stunningly beautiful and attractive to Michael.

Michael’s glanced at your lips more than once and won’t bother to avert his gaze if you notice him looking at you either.

Your eyes only part from Michael’s for a second as Connie hands you a glass of water, but Michael’s curious, insatiable gaze lingers. 

“Oh, thank you.”

Michael’s eyes roam down from your collarbones to your chest, taking in as much as he can see of you and your figure at the table.

One of the first things that Michael notices and keeps in mind is the fact there aren’t any rings on your hands, but Michael can’t say the same for himself, adorning his wedding band to Kay on his left hand.

The estate’s back door opens once more to reveal Kay standing by the doorway—a warm, wide smile on her lips.

Kay’s rather cheery and optimistic demeanor is enough to put almost everyone in a good mood, and you already take a general liking to her despite not personally knowing Kay for the time being.

It’s as if Kay brings in a breath of freshness with her presence, one quite different from her husband but it hits you that perhaps that’s what Michael was looking for in his life partner, to begin with.

Through your brief, blushing eye contact with Michael just a mere moment ago, you feel silly and stupid for somehow forgetting Michael’s actually married, or you purposefully ignore the fact when it benefits you.

Just looking up at Kay, you feel a tinge of jealousy light up inside of you but can’t quite put together what emotions twist and tug and why you continue to spontaneously feel like this.

“Marina!” Kay’s eyes widen in joy when she spots you at the breakfast table. “Good morning! You look refreshed and well rested.”

“Very much so, thank you.” You return a beaming smile to Kay, noticing Michael from the corner of your eye watching your interaction with his wife.

Michael’s wife, the mother of his two children—soon to be three—and his future mistress. This is a sight Michael insists on getting used to, mostly for the sake of appearances.

“Wonderful!” Kay gestures behind her as she begins to walk towards the table, “Anthony and Mary will be down in just a few minutes. It was a little bit of a hassle to get them up this morning.”

“It’s alright.” You chuckle quietly, “they’re young and full of energy.”

“Very, very true.” Kay giggles, moving to sit next to her husband but not before Michael takes Kay’s hand just as she’s about to take her seat—giving Kay’s hand a sweet kiss while maintaining eye contact with her.

You look away, unsettled by the nauseating spike of jealousy rising in you again—only feeling more uncomfortable you’re granted these feelings.

Kay blushes, mouthing “I love you” to Michael as she sits down and faces you again—catching you by surprise. “Especially Anthony.”

“Hmm?” You blink in confusion. “Oh, yes. Anthony. He’s seven years old, isn’t he?” You’re quick to snap back to reality.

“Mhmm.” Kay nods. “Mary is five but…” She shakes her head, laughing softly. “Anthony can be somewhat of a nonconformist at times. He idolizes his father.” Kay squeezes Michael’s hand over the table, “really looks up to Michael.”

“I see.” You give a small polite smile, watching Michael pull a small bottle of pills from his inner suit pocket before setting it in front of his plate.

“Mary is much shyer, so please don’t take it personally.” Kay continues talking to you as Michael twists open the pill bottle cap, taking one of his diabetic pills out of the palm of his hand. “Once Mary opens up, she loves talking and storytelling. She may even randomly hug you from time to time.”

“Oh really?” You grin back, “how sweet. I’ve absolutely no issue with that.”

Ignoring the various conversations surrounding him for the most part, Michael swallows down a single pill with his water before putting his pill bottle back inside his pocket.

Michael’s never struck you as ill or recovering from some sort of illness, but the fact he may be diabetic lingers in your mind from how you noticed back in his office yesterday that he always keeps a full glass of water with him and an extra pitcher practically anywhere he goes within the estate.

“I know Anthony and Mary will absolutely love you and open up to you in no time.” Kay reassures, “I can’t wait to see it myself. I’m a school teacher too, you know. I taught elementary education for about two years.”

“Really?” Kay’s professional life sparks your interest. 

“Yes!” Kay’s more than happy to divulge the details. “I absolutely love children and teaching. Becoming a school teacher was such an absolute dream. I graduated from Dartmouth and went straight into teaching after that—didn’t want to waste any time! Easily was some of the best years of my life.”

“What made you retire so soon?” You ask, genuinely curious. “The children?”

“Yes,” Kay reaffirms, “I had to take a little early retirement after I got married. You know, of course, I wanted to spend more time with my husband and my children. I tutor Anthony and Mary every now and then, and honestly…” Kay begins to pout, placing her hand over top of yours on the table. “Sometimes I hate myself for not being able to do more for them education-wise, you know? But…” Kay purses her lips before breaking out into a contagious smile again, “there are so many of our little ones and I trust you and your expertise so much more! I’ve no doubt about how much of a good education the children will get through you.”

“I appreciate it, Kay. Thank you.” You smile up at her. “From one school teacher to another, I think we have lots to learn from each other.”

“Absolutely.” Kay couldn’t agree more as she leans her back against her seat. “You’re just the sweetest!”

‘Words to regret. Words to take back.’

Only a few more minutes pass before Carmela Corleone whom you’re also introduced to as ‘Mama Corleone’ and Sandra, the widow of Santino, serve varieties of fresh, hot-cooked breakfast foods and refreshments over the table. 

You didn’t expect a feast or something resembling a buffet, being taken by surprise to see the never-ending selection of dishes that may fill up two large, full plates if you tried to taste a bit of everything.

Everything from omelets, fresh vegetables picked from the Corleone family garden, varieties of ham and Italian deli meets, Kay and Mama Corleone’s homemade bread, biscuits from scratch, Ciambella, and jams the Corleone women made themselves from such variety of every ‘berry’ you can think of to apricot, peach, and grape, to a delicious mulberry granita you see Michael taking a specific liking to.

Brioche col tuppo came served hot out of the oven and ready to be eaten with over ten selections of cheese, including your favorite—Calcagno. 

You recognize the other cuts of cheese—Riccota salata and Ragusano just to name a few only from walking past displays by the little family-run shops in Hell’s Kitchen but you’ve never been able to afford a small chunk of such fine, high-quality cheese let alone the whole cheese wheels and halves there are on the breakfast table this morning. 

There’s a plentiful mix of classic American and Sicilian breakfast foods—the latter of which Kay has helped prepare or make the night before.

You’re surprised Kay cooks Sicilian and Italian, but it’s just another trait in her you admire being marrying into a Sicilian family.

You pick your favorites out of all of the choices over the table onto your plate modestly, reaching for a small piece of Calcagno cheese last.

Michael reaches out with his butter knife at the same time as you do, but instead of taking a piece for himself, Michael pushes the entire small cut half to you instead of the tiny chunk of cheese you were initially reaching for.

Your fork clashes with Michael’s butterknife momentarily and you’re more than grateful there’s more than enough distraction and conversation going on at the table around you.

You glance up at Michael and can’t help but blush, being told; “go ahead.” Michael pushes the cut of cheese closer to your fork. “Eat.”

Michael’s aware you’re trying to be modest and polite with your food, especially with so many options spread out among you, but he’s also adamant about you eating well and being full over mannerisms at the table. 

You give Michael a small nod to signal a thank you as you take the whole piece onto your plate—ready to begin eating your breakfast.

Peeking around at the breakfast table as you begin to eat and trying not to spend a moment too long gazing at Michael, you feel at this very moment the only person you know at best sitting at this table for now is Tom.

Tom goes on in conversation about how New York has changed, listing off some names of “hotshot” lawyers; you assume Tom clout for two lifetimes to be able to only take full care of the Corleone family business legally.

You appreciate that although Tom wasn’t born Sicilian, he practically is one, and is very close to his adoptive family too. 

It’s just one of the reasons why Tom doesn’t make you feel alienated or too far from home—you can easily confide in him if you wish to, although…

Once again, your eyes flicker back to Michael who sips at his second glass of water.

Even the way Michael’s full, plush lips wrap around the rim of the glass sends a flare of arousal coursing through your muscles.

There’s no use in denying or scolding yourself for how you feel or react, and you glance back at Kay, wondering if she feels the same way in the presence of this smoldering man despite being married to him for years.

‘Of course, it’s different when you touch him and go to bed with him every night, having him all to yourself.’ Your cheeks grow hot with blush at the very thought as you bite down on your food.

You know you’ll never be able to let your arousal loose or see where it takes you, but there’s no easy route in your heart to get used to Mr. Michael Corleone like this either.

That cold, stern, and dominant gaze in Michael’s eyes for one isn’t meant to intimidate or look through you as if you’re not to be trusted or hiding something, but rather they thrill you—excite you in a way.

‘Lots of opposites in the family.’ You note to yourself—not necessarily a bad thing, but very intriguing nonetheless. 

Had Fredo and Deanna also attended breakfast, it’d been a full table without all of the children, but Michael specifically instructed neither Fredo nor Deanna even thinks about attending to embarrass the family and day drink in front of you.

Refusing any secondhand embarrassment, humiliation, and scandals ahead, Michael remains adamant and serious about family appearances and impressions—first or not. 

Anthony and Mary’s arrival to breakfast is with their grandmother moments after. 

“Not a moment too late, are we?” Mama Corleone steps out into the courtyard with a warm smile on her lips, holding Anthony and Mary’s hands. 

Michael appears more content and relaxed than anything, and Kay’s all the more excited and relieved for you and the children to be able to spend some informal time together at breakfast aside from inevitable lessons and homework. 

From the second you glance over at Mary, you completely understand what Kay meant when she described her daughter as very shy.

Mary practically hides behind Carmela’s arm, but even you can see that Mary is a spitting image of her mother with the same chestnut brown hair and soft eyes but upon a careful look, Mary has much of her father’s facial features too.

Mary’s dressed in a violet swing dress with a lace collar and hemming. Her hair is done up neatly in little pigtails and despite her shyness kicking in, she peeks at you among everyone at the table.

Anthony on the other hand might as well be a direct copy of his father. Even his hair is parted and lightly gelled back like Michael’s is, and Anthony appears neither hesitant nor withdrawn but calm and collected.

Anthony’s eyes meet yours for a split second, but he takes in the rest of his family’s faces at the table too. 

“There you two are!” Kay’s eyes light up, gesturing for them to sit down at the table quickly. “Almost would have missed breakfast!”

Chuckling, Mama Corleone rubs Mary’s shoulder and politely gestures over to you as Anthony makes his way to his seat. “Mary, questa è la tua nuova governante. Lei è un'insegnante. Ricordi che l'hai incontrata ieri con tuo padre?” (Mary, this is your new governess. She's a teacher. Remember you met her yesterday with your father?)

You keep a polite smile fixed towards Mary’s direction and watch as she nods back to Carmela. 

“Hello, Miss Alighieri.” Anthony greets you first, grabbing your attention. 

“Good morning, Anthony.” You speak back to him. “Sleep well?”

Much more forthcoming and confident, Anthony gives you a nod—not much interested in small talk as he sits next to Michael who gives him an approving look.

“Come on Mary,” Kay coaxes in a soft tone of voice, “don’t be shy. Say ‘hello’ to Marina. You and Anthony have lessons with her after breakfast, remember?”

“Hi.” Mary peeps out to you in a small voice, still as shy as ever.

“Go on.” Carmela gives Mary’s back a gentle pat.

Mary skips over to Kay’s side in a hurry, taking her seat next to her mother with only more shy glances toward you.

“Great, we’re all here.” Kay smiles at her children as you notice neither Tom, Sandra nor Connie have reacted or hardly noticed the children coming out in the first place.

‘The Corleone family.’ The only thing alluding to you, for the time being, is that Kay’s pregnant with her third child—Michael’s second son.

As you look around the breakfast table now, you see the family you’ll be spending years and years with—possibly well into retirement.

Eventually, you’ll witness Anthony and Mary amongst the other children grow to be adults, perhaps attending university and delving into careers of their own.

You’ll have much to recall and remark back on when those days come ahead in the future, but Michael knows he has more than one use for you as a governess within his family. 

With thoughts lingering in his mind about what to do with you and when to do it, you catch Michael’s gaze over yours again. 

~

After breakfast, you neither have time to help Sandra, Kay and Mama Corleone with cleanup or dishes let alone say another word to Michael or Tom.

Instead, Kay grabs your arm and whisks you by her side giddily—putting both of her hands over your shoulders. “Marina, sweetheart! Don’t worry about the table, we’ll handle all of that. I don’t want you to inconvenience yourself, okay? I’ll be glad to have all the more family breakfasts with you.”

You flush red with humility and appreciation. “I would absolutely love that, but—”

“But, what?” Kay blinks at you blankly.

“I really don’t wish to intrude on your family’s privacy.” You admit sheepishly. “Truly.”

“Nonsense.” Kay scoffs, rubbing your shoulders. “You’re a part of our family now in a way, aren’t you? I certainly don’t see you as a bother, intrusion, or even a guest. I don’t want you to either. We’re glad to have you here and I know Anthony and Mary are too,” Kay reassures you, pulling you toward the end of the courtyard. “I’m excited to see some progress.”

“As am I, thank you.” You smile politely at Kay. “I’ll be awaiting Anthony and Mary in the study now if that’s okay with you?”

“Perfect!” Kay turns her head back towards the family estate. “I’ll send them up there as soon as they wash up from breakfast.”

Giving an understanding nod, you and Kay move to the family estate side by side and enter together.

Kay parts for the hallway to head upstairs and you continue walking into the foyer to exit the manor from the front door.

As you approach the foyer, you notice Michael and Tom by the windowsill near the foyer, just a short distance away from you.

Feeling the kick up of butterflies rushing inside of you yet again, your eyes fall on Michael who smokes a cigarette while making a soft conversation with Tom.

Tom keeps his voice in a low tone so as not to echo the rest of his conversation out into the foyer, but he doesn’t notice you as you walk by.

Michael picks up on your presence immediately and the two of you make momentary eye contact as you continue moving toward the front doors.

You don’t know how much longer you can keep embarrassing yourself by giving away the reactions this man pulls out of you with half a glance, but you both don’t react further upon seeing each other.

You can’t read who Michael is as a person and it would be pointless to do so—a thought many have come across after meeting Don Corleone and you certainly won’t be the last to think so.

You need to keep things appropriate between employee and employer, even if the Corleone family is more inviting and friendly to you than your past employers. 

You know you have to upkeep boundaries in place and of course, neither Kay nor Michael are going to mention that or make it happen for you.

As you exit the estate, Michael watches every step you take until you’re completely out of his line of sight—completely blocking out Tom.

“You must be my new governess.”

Michael’s eyes dart from the way the fabric of your skirt brushes against your thighs—imagining his hands caressing your thighs and working their way up over your supple skin.

Michael wants to be the one to unzip your skirt from behind, inching it bit by bit off of you and replacing the fabric with his hands—hearing your soft little gasps and whimpers towards his touch as his slender fingers rub lazy circles over your clit.

The sound of your heels hitting the marble floor only gives way to Michael picturing himself taking your heels off and tossing them aside—kissing up from your ankles until his face is buried between your legs.

You may walk out calm and composed for your first lesson now, but all Michael wants to see is how you’ll approach him stripping off your clothes bit by bit, or when he makes you crawl to him on your knees.

“So we understand each other.” 

 Michael’s doing nothing but confirming his attraction to you even further—relishing every minute of it.

There’s a need and desire growing within Michael, sharing a mutual and fiery attraction but you easily mistake all of Michael’s looks for caution and potential mistrust.

You’re new here after all, and Michael doesn’t know you personally or what you offer education-wise just yet. 

Michael’s neither paranoid nor suspicious of you, but he’d rather have you misunderstand his body language and looks toward you for the time being.

In reality, Michael can’t get enough of you and each gaze does nothing to satisfy his curiosity over you; not just who you are as a teacher or woman, but who you are as a lover, as a mistress.

Still, Michael has something you necessarily don’t when it comes to attraction and chemistry; patience. Michael’s absolutely the type to wait until you can’t take it any longer to ensnare you and have you in any way he wants.

The only thing on Michael’s mind is how much more can you hold out against him until he can make his move and confront you with your own growing feelings and attraction?

It turns Michael on to see you squirming and blushing in his sight. It’s something to behold and note for him—something he’ll use against you, remind you with, take you with when he beds you.

Heading into the study and still in awe from every corner of the compound, you figure you’ll have a new sight to look at every time you step out of one building to get to another.

The beauty of Lake Tahoe itself speaks for itself but also what Michael has built within the compound for his compound captures the beauty of Nevada within it in like a safe little world of its own.

The thought of stepping out of this gorgeous private paradise isn’t even on your mind, to begin with. 

Security, privacy, perfect views, fresh air, and nature surround the compound only reminding you that you can definitely get used to this.

More reasons find you yet again to prove that leaving New York was the best option and as Michael said, your family has the opportunity to move down to Nevada as well.

You’re not in a rush to settle the rest of your life and all that you know down at Lake Tahoe immediately. Not just yet. 

Your heart and mind will need to settle first and get a taste of life before you can start thinking about what Nevada may hold for the rest of your days. 

You’re not a rash person even if impatience strikes you from to time. After all, years passed behind you and all you wanted to do was protect your family and provide for him. That much you did, and that’s all that mattered then.

Now granted the opportunity of a lifetime, there remains to be one thing true that only unsettles you when you find yourself deep in thought over it: the Corleone family is still somewhat entangled in crime and the underworld. 

“Don’t trust Mafiosi like we did. Mafiosi are not your friends; they’ll use you and then they will kill you.”

It was Tom who reassured you the Corleone family themselves want to pull away from crime and any unsavory reputations having followed their family name.

You know all of this is run under Michael and his demands alone but his family are nothing like the Mafiosi you watched overrun Hell’s Kitchen and worked for.

‘The Corleone family are no common criminals. Not even your stereotypical Mafiosi, flashing wealth and power over the streets…’ To you, Michael’s just a wealthy businessman trying to erase his father’s criminal legacy, but keep his empire intact. 

With or without caring and noticing, you’ll see more of the intricacies of the Corleone family and what their “business” has to offer in the future. 

If any major criminal ties come up, you don’t know if you have the strength nor the will in your heart to run for the hills again—just so sick and tired of worrying about mafia wars and how they’ll impact you and your family all over again.

Feeling strangely at ease with only so little to truly comfort you, you enter the study and let out a deep breath; you’re looking forward to teaching your first 

the lesson today after all.

You wonder if Anthony and Mary are alike their parents’ personalities as they are in appearances, unable to help but wonder how Michael and Kay parent and raise the two.

‘In a way, I’ll be parenting them too.’ Although you’ll never truly be alone with the children—still under Michael’s watchful gaze and expectations.

‘That look…’ Those sexy, hazel eyes. His gaze…

You clear your throat, forcing Michael out of your thoughts for what seems to be the hundredth time this morning. 

It’s best if you don’t get flustered all over again before a lesson, and it’d do you some good not to think of Michael Corleone for now.

~

“And there’s nothing on her?” Interrupting Tom and switching the conversation entirely over to the topic of you from the moment you’ve exited the family estate, it’s the very first thing Michael asks.

Tom blinks at Michael in confusion at the sudden shift of conversation but picks up on Michael’s mention of you as “her”, not Kay. “For Miss Marina? Well, nothing. Is there anything you suspect? I could have a further look into it.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Michael blows out the smoke of his cigarette away from Tom’s direction. “I simply find it hard to believe any civilian working for the mafia isn’t as embroiled within it as they seem.”

“You’re right,” Tom agrees. “That definitely ends up being the case the majority of the time, but I made sure about it for Marina. I’ve looked into her family, her background—everything before even approaching her for employment. She’s legit.”

“I know she is.” Michael puts his cigarette loosely in the corner of his mouth. “We’ll see her teaching technique soon enough and I’ll hear it from Anthony and Mary first.”

“Hope you’re not planning to replace our new governess already.” Tom grins at Michael, joking.

“Funny,” Michael comments without a sliver of emotion on his face. “Anthony and Mary will get the best education possible. There are no exceptions to that.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Tom shrugs his shoulders loosely. “Especially since Marina will be teaching all of our children. Maybe she’ll even think about moving her family down here when the time is right.”

“Perhaps so.” Michael assumes you’ll need to feel personally settled down in Nevada before you consider such a serious change to your family life. “Miss Alighieri is unmarried, no children?”

“Just an engagement, it seems,” Tom replies back, looking towards the front door. “She’s a kind and respectful young woman. I think all of this will be the change her life truly needs—a break from New York and all of its big expectations. Time to settle, maybe start a family in the near future.”

“Mhmm.” Although the question of “is she a virgin?” crosses Michael’s mind, he asks no further questions. 

It’s not that such a thing matters to Michael in the slightest but when it comes to getting to know everything about you on a skin-deep level and beyond, Michael will get to anything he wants to know without hesitation. 

“Think she’ll get along with Kay?” Tom asks, lowering his tone of voice. “And I mean like really get along—no breakfast pleasantries and all that.”

“It doesn’t concern me,” Michael answers coldly.

“No?” Tom raises a curious brow. 

“No.” Michael reaffirms. “Marina is a teacher—an employee here. She wasn’t brought here to be a friend. I see very few possibilities in which she and Kay wouldn’t get along.”

“Of course,” Tom nods, continuing, “and they’re both school teachers, after all.”

“They’re completely different.” Michael corrects him. “Kay taught school grade children. She hasn’t taught professionally in almost a decade. She’s used to a specific level of teaching as well. Education-wise, there’s little she can offer my children now more than she already has. Kay isn’t trained in advanced education, languages and so forth, however, if she disagrees with Marina’s teaching methods, I’ll hear it. Otherwise, ten years teaching the spawn of our rivals in New York provides all the more of an interesting record to me.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Tom breaks out into a chuckle, straightening his posture against the windowsill. “I absolutely couldn’t have said it better myself. Best we never have bad blood in the family.”

“I agree.” 

~

You take your seat on the leather armchair set up for you in front of a large, mahogany table able to sit up to ten children comfortably for a lesson.

Getting comfortable in the chair, you glance at your lesson planner and notes set out in front of you, noting what lessons you’ll start the day with as soon as you meet with Anthony and Mary.

First, you’ll begin the day’s lesson with some practice in Italian. You want to start off with a simple conversation to get things warmed up as you’re aware both Anthony and Mary speak Italian and Sicilian, but you wish to hear them speak more fluently and often in conversation with someone else other than 

just their parents as well as learn new vocabulary too.

You’re unaware Michael’s accompanying Anthony and Mary to the study as you continue skimming over your notes.

Michael quietly walks behind the children, not meaning to be seen or heard but without any particular intention to hide away from you either; wishing to observe some of your teaching for himself at least, not because Michael has no faith in your teaching but perhaps just an excuse to see you again.

“Behave yourselves today, alright?” Michael speaks to Anthony and Mary, keeping one hand on both of their shoulders. “Listen to your teacher just as you did the last. Ask questions when needed, be polite, and don’t interrupt. Your mother and I want to hear about your lessons at the end of the day. Understood?”

“Yes, father.” Anthony agrees quietly.

“Okay, daddy.” Mary nods shyly.

“Good.” Michael pats both of his children’s shoulders, gesturing towards the half-open door to the study. “Go on now.” Michael takes a step back towards the hallway to conceal himself.

Anthony approaches the doorway first, pushing open the door but letting his sister in first before walking inside side by side with her.

“Hello, Miss Alighieri.” Anthony greets you as Mary gives you a little wave.

“Ciao.” You greet the two in Italian, smiling up at the children. “Welcome, come on in.”

The study door is left ajar enough for Michael to continue listening in, but not be seen or heard himself—just as Michael prefers it to be.

“We’re going to be starting with Italian lessons for today.” You tell the two as they take a seat in front of you at the table. “Are we ready?”

While Anthony gives you a silent nod, Mary answers back enthusiastically with, “yes, Miss Alighieri.”

You chuckle softly, “you can call me Marina. Don’t worry about all the formalities. Now,” you place both of your hands down on your lesson planner. “Today we’ll practice some conversation together and learn some new words but first…” A warm smile forms over your lips, “have you two been to Italy or Sicily before?”

“No.” Anthony shakes his head. “But I want to someday.”

“Anche io.” (Me too.) Mary answers in Italian. “Spero che papà ci porti un giorno.” (I hope daddy takes us one day.)

"Sono sicuro che gli piacerebbe." (I’m sure he would love to.) You nod back at her, thrilled by how naturally the children speak Italian back to you.

“Verrai anche tu con noi?” (Will you come with us too?) Anthony asks you, taking you by surprise.

"Oh, mi piacerebbe." (Oh, I would love to.) You blush a little at the thought of accompanying the family on a vacation. "Anche io non ci sono mai stato." (I’ve also never been there myself.)

“Neanche io.” (Me neither.) Mary giggles quietly.

Michael’s taken back by surprise at how fluently the children are speaking Italian to you—a stark contrast from how Anthony and Mary have always been much too shy to speak a sentence or two in front of their mother, let alone speak Italian in front of her.

Anthony and Mary barely even know you, yet they’re both so calm, open, and have a readiness to learn already.

Michael glances at his gold wristwatch to check the time, continuing to listen to your lesson.

“Penso che entrambi sorprenderete i vostri genitori vedendo come parlate bene l'italiano in questo momento.” (I think you'll both surprise your parents with how well you two are speaking Italian right now.) You tell the children, taking a little note down in your lesson planner about their fluency.

“La mamma però non parla italiano.” (Mom doesn't speak Italian though.) Anthony shrugs his shoulders. 

“Non una parola?” (Not a word?) You raise your brows.

“No. Non proprio.” (No. Not really.) Mary answers you. “Inoltre non conosce nessun siciliano.” (She also doesn’t know any Sicilian.)

“Le piacerebbe imparare l'italiano?” (Would she like to learn Italian?) You ask the two. 

“No, non credo.” (No, I don’t think so.) Anthony shakes his head, confident in his answer. “Parliamo solo italiano e siciliano a nonna, nonno e papà.” (We only speak Italian and Sicilian to grandma, grandpa, and daddy.)

“Non alla mamma.” (Not to mama.) Mary adds.

‘Not to mama.’ You note to yourself, frowning a little. It certainly strikes you as strange that Kay has no interest in the two languages both of her children are speaking and growing up around, but that’s something you’d need to talk to Kay about yourself.

From where Michael stands, even he can sense the shyness and awkward silence filling the room from the children’s answers. 

“Timida?” (Shy?) You teasingly ask Mary who remains much quieter than her brother.

“Forse.” (Maybe) Mary giggles to herself.

“Entrambi non dovete essere timidi con me, ma so che può volerci del tempo per aprirsi.” (Both of you don't need to be shy with me, but I know it can take some time to open up.) You reassure the children, speaking in a soft tone. ”E in un certo senso, nessuno di voi due è timido a causa di quanto parlate fluentemente italiano. Molto bene. Sono molto impressionato.” (And in a way, neither of you are shy because of how fluent you both speak Italian. Well done. I'm very impressed.). 

“Grazie signorina Marina.” (Thank you, miss Marina.) Mary beams up at you happily. “Mi piace parlare italiano.” (I like speaking Italian.)

‘Interesting.’ Michael thinks to himself, although knowing Mary and Anthony refuse to speak Italian near kay already, he never expected to figure out such shyness from the children now unraveling before you into full-blown fluency and confidence just as the children speak with Michael.

‘What would Kay think?’ A frown crosses Michael’s lips, but he’s satisfied enough hearing your teaching and experiencing it in a way for himself.

Confident without any worries or issues for his children’s education, Michael trusts you with employment in the Corleone family.

Throughout your Italian lessons with Anthony and Mary, you come to easily tell they’re both well-behaved, happy children even if Mary is on the shyer side and Anthony is just as brooding as his father.

You don’t sense tension or unhappiness amongst the children, especially nothing that would hold them back from fully interacting and learning from their lessons.

You’ve been easily able to spot such discomfort in children when you worked for the Cuneo and Stracci family; seeing how younger siblings of favored, firstborn children meant to be heirs to the family appear glum, withdrawn, and negatively impacted by the blatant favoritism. 

It feels much more than just refreshing to you now to be teaching in a healthy family environment where the children’s own education won’t have to be a distraction to them from their families.

“Alright, here we have the rest of our reading material to finish off our Italian lessons.” You set down a sheet of paper with two separate paragraphs—one at a slightly lower level of Italian for reading and writing and the other one a bit more advanced.

“But,” you point your finger back and forth at the paragraphs, “as you can see both of them are different.”

“Yeah,” Mary notes to herself, speaking English as she and Anthony peek down at the paper.

“I’d like to see where the two of you are with your level of Italian reading and writing since—” you break out into a grin, “the speaking is obviously fantastic. We’ll try these out first and go on from there, so,” you point down at the second paragraph. “This paragraph here may look a little tricky at a second glance because of the new, longer vocabulary in it. I’ll teach you both how to break down even the most difficult new words like this.” You place your finger underneath the words, slowly guiding the children. “We can read this one by one and understand the words first, then we can go back and do it a little faster the second time. I’ll start first, so please follow my finger here and read the words to yourself while listening to my voice and how I pronounce the new vocabulary.” 

Michael stops in his tracks just as he’s reached the bottom of the staircase, still able to hear your voice echoing from the study.

Michael pauses again, taking the time to listen in to you speak in beautiful, fluent Italian throughout the paragraph you teach Mary and Anthony. 

“Il mio comodino è vicino alla finestra, non il mio letto, ma al mattino entra un sacco di sole. La mia scrivania è sul lato opposto della mia stanza, proprio accanto al mio armadio.” (My night table is near the window, not my bed but a lot of sunshine comes through in the morning. My work desk is on the opposite side of my room right next to my closet.)

Your voice is nothing short of music to Michael’s ear, beautiful with each tone and pitch. Michael continues to listen at the stairwell, unable to stop himself from wanting to hear more.

“La mia stanza si affaccia sulla spiaggia e ogni giorno posso guardare le onde sulla riva…” My room looks out towards the beach and every day I can watch the waves on the shore.)

It’s only when you’re done reading the paragraph and recapping with the children that Michael’s able to snap back to reality and force himself to leave the estate—attempting to do the same for his thoughts.

“How was that?” You ask the children.

“Easy to follow,” Mary tells you with a nod.

“Anthony?” You glance at her brother.

“You’re very good at it.” Anthony’s eyes meet yours. 

“You two will be too, soon enough.” You reassure, smiling at the children. “Did we find it difficult at all?”

“Hmm… Not really.” Anthony shrugs his shoulders carelessly.

“Some words are a little hard I think.” Mary frowns, staring at the unfamiliar vocabulary within the paragraph. 

“This is good, very good. This way we get to see where we are with our vocabulary level, right? We can practice something a little easier, like this bottom paragraph here.” You gesture down to the bottom of the lesson sheet.

“I can read all that.” Anthony points out.

“Me too.” Mary appears relieved at the familiarity of the paragraph’s words. “I know those words.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle, “wonderful. I’ll give it a read first again as you guys follow along, then we can take some turns reading it together, okay?”

If anything, Anthony and Mary are both very understanding, calm, and polite children. Neither interrupt the lesson nor blurt out answers, but raise their hand to ask you questions.

Very disciplined and sweet, you know just how well-raised Anthony and Mary are on Kay and Michael’s behalf from their mannerisms. 

Kay and Michael’s actual parenting in person to Anthony and Mary will practically be unavoidable in the near future.

Continuing to get more practice with the easier paragraph, you see how Mary’s insistent to continue picking up on a level of reading where she’s comfortable, but it’s also a good recap and practice for Anthony.

After all those years of teaching, you’ve been used to reading upside down and balancing different levels of education with several children at the same time.

“Lato opposto dell amia stanza…” Mary speaks, reading out loud.

“Lato opposto,” you gently correct her pronunciation.

“Lato opposto,” Mary says, continuing to read.

“Mhmm.” You smile at her, noticing how Anthony quietly mouths the words to himself during his sister’s reading. 

~

As Michael comes to approach his office door, Al Neri’s eyes glance up at his boss expectantly. “Don Corleone, Mrs. Corleone is waiting inside for you.”

Michael neither reacts nor speaks back to Neri who opens the door for his boss, instantly closing it behind Michael for privacy.

Michael steps into his office with no curiosity within him for why Kay may be in his office, spotting his wife sitting on one of the leather armchairs by his desk. 

“Hello, darling.” Michael greets Kay, moving towards her.

“Hi, honey.” Kay rises up from her seat, in a cheery mood as always. “Thought I’d find you here, but…” Kay approaches her husband, smiling at him in admiration.

“I had the children begin their lessons with Marina,” Michael tells her.

“Mhmm.” Kay rubs over Michael’s shoulders tenderly, pleased with his response. “I just wanted to wait for you here. How are they?”

“All is well. They’ve started with Italian lessons for the day.” Michael’s quick to the point, satisfied with your teaching with nothing more to say.

“Oh?” Kay’s eyes widen in curiosity. “I wish Marina good luck then.”

“No need.” Michael surprises Kay with his answer. “They’re both speaking very fluently. I’m sure they shocked Marina at first as well.” 

“You heard them?” Kay asks.

“A little as I was leaving, yes.” Michael replies, “they’ve opened up to Marina already, practicing reading some example texts.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Kay blinks, finding herself oddly jealous at the revelation since Anthony and Mary refuse to speak Italian near her no matter what. “I’m surprised, honestly. Anthony and Mary…they don’t speak Italian to me or near me at all.”

“Best you begin to learn then as well.” Michael pecks a gentle kiss over Kay’s cheek, assuming the children only refrain from speaking Italian near their mother simply because she doesn’t, but the truth of the matter is that Michael could care less. 

“You should teach me,” Kay giggles, watching Michael move towards his desk. “But I think Mama Corleone may give you a run for your money.”

“I won’t disagree with you.” Michael takes a seat at his desk, sighing softly in relief. “She was the only one who spent all that time going on and on in Italian and Sicilian around her grandchildren since they were born. It’s an idea, Kay. I mean it.”

Kay’s cheeks flush scarlet as she makes eye contact with Michael. “It’s such a beautiful language from what little I know. It’d be amazing to speak both Italian and Sicilian with the children.”

“I agree.” Michael nods. “Nonetheless, this is a good start for them.”

“Do you know what they’ll learn later in the afternoon?” Kay stands before Michael’s office desk.

“You could always ask her,” Michael offers.

“But I can’t exactly ask Marina if the children like her, can I? What do you think?” Kay seems more overjoyed at the thought than ever.

‘I think they’re going to love her,’ Michael thinks to himself but changes his answer. “From what I can tell thus far, I believe so. Marina has left a good impression on us all.”

“She really is a part of our family in a way now.” Kay agrees, beaming happily. “So I can’t wait to get to know her all the better myself. We could just be the best of friends—teacher to teacher!”

But you wouldn’t be Kay’s friend or anything more to her than just an employee living in her home grounds. You never will, and you never can. Such a concept, idea, and belief is long out of your reach.

Instead, you’d be Michael’s mistress. His favorite. The only woman he explores every fantasy and sexual desire with, much to your pleasure. 

You’ll be Michael’s mistress, just as he wants you to be, just as you yearn to be.

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