#Massimo x reader

[writingmyimagination]

Never let go ~

Massimo x reader (may get a bit steamy.)

Tw: choking, cussing, smut

“One year…. One year have I wasted on a man who will never change.” I write in my journal as I look up and out the window of the plane as Massimo huffs annoyed leaning against his chair mad I’ve refused to sit near him. You see unlike Laura I choose to be with him thinking he’d learn after she ran off with his gardener. At first it was bliss and we would shop, have dinners, and travel. 

But as fate unfolded with the months he could never let a part of her go fully. Times I’ve spread myself thin to please this God like man, the change in clothes from my usual classy elegance to a more sexy look for him, the unusual taste in art that I know he had commissioned for her. If it were up to me I’d burn them all in our courtyard one by one and light a cigarette with the flames. I hear him shift angrily either at the fact his wife refuses to look at him or even breathe in his direction or at the sexual tension between him and our flight attendant knowing I would turn the whole plane around if he even dares to act on it.

“If he leaves again I’ll disappear I swear it to this book and to myself, I deserve the world at my feet. Not this sour bitter treatment as if I was Laura. I have done nothing to cater for him and yet I find my cup empty while his is full, full of life, fun, and excitement. While I am expected to wait for him, submis—“ I feel a large hand wrap around my throat, his hot breath tickling my ear as his hand gives a warning squeeze. “Mi amore, are you fucking kidding me? Disappear?” He lets out a stiff chuckle as I feel his other hand swiftly grab my journal and throw it against the wall of the plane where he was once sat. “As if you could stay hidden long enough for that to happen, I’d search under every single rock and cave to find you.” I tighten my lips together as I look off to the side seeing the flight attendant staring at us, want and desire pooling desperately in her eyes. “(Y,N.) are you really going to be this difficult, acting as if I was some random man you could throw a fit with and I’d just let you be.” His free hand playing with the hem of your white mini dress going up to the middle of your chest where we can see the golden v accentuating your cleavage. “Massimo, please.” I croak out, half in annoyance and in desire because I know what lies in the next few moments to come. He lets my neck go and I take a deep breath, he moves to the front where I can see him towering over me and does something shocking.

Massimo has knelt in front of me with soft gentle hands he moves them up my calves to my knees and spreads them apart. “W-what are you—“ he gives me a look. “For once shut the fuck up.” He reaches under my dress and rips my lace underwear off me. My hands go to rest on his bicep as he pulls my hips closer to the edge of the seat, his lips tickle my inner thighs with kisses leading up to a long teasing swipe of my glistening folds. A deep primal groan emerges from his chest as he hungrily laps at the pooling wetness between my legs. Soft moans leave me as I shiver under the unfamiliar sensation of his tongue making its presence known. Massimo wasn’t one for giving but always receiving. This is a whole different feeling entirely.

My eyes roll back as he continues determined to make me gush sweet juices all over his face. His sweet prize for having to put up with my mood swings as he calls them. He knows Laura is gone, but she gave him a feeling he couldn’t describe but you, you were his weakness. The one thing that could bring him to his knees and possibly lose his mind, hence why you were his wife he lost you once over his own mistakes but that wasn’t happening again.

The pooling desire swirling in the deep of your tummy was nearing the edge, asking to be released as your legs tighten against his strong hands. “M-Massimo keep going please, like that.” He smiles against your folds as he continues, his tongue swirls in circles around your clit and he moves a hand further up, once at his destination he inserts his two middle fingers slowly, angling them upward just to brush along the wall. He can feel you tighten around his fingers and at this point he’s ready to hoist you up and impale you with his long, girthy shaft. But he knows you need this, you need to feel cared for before he can have his own way with you. He feels your legs tremble as you struggle to breathe and he takes everything you give him, lapping each drop as if he hadn’t drink anything all day not wanting to waste a single drop, the overstimulation of his tongue pressing your bundle of nerves until he finally stops and look up. “Beautiful.” He whispers before placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh and getting up, he sits next to you and pulls you close to his side. “Stop acting like how you have been this whole trip, (Y,N).” He kisses the top of your head as you regain consciousness from cloud nine. “Massimo everything I wrote is true it’s how I feel…” I look up at him. “You aren’t fully here.” “Bullshit. Bella I am here I’m right fucking here, I got on my knees for you do you understand how much you mean to me? Outside of this.” He motions around with his hand. “I’d kill for you. I should’ve never left you for her. She was the devil in disguise, a fucking demon.” He grabs your jaw, “but you.. you are everything pure, sweet, and perfect. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I did to you. I may not be the perfect man or husband but for you I am willing to try.” You both lean in and share a sweet kiss before hearing a ding. “Please buckle your seatbelt the captain with start our descend soon.”

[thebadboyfanclub]

Fire and Water Pt. 5 (Massimo x Reader)

Look my guy I got inspired by the song Trust issues the weeknd remix and shameless Camilla Cabello, this might need multiple parts but I have seen you guys ask for it and I think it’s time for me to serve and for you guys to eat… also I would like to say thank you to @severewobblerlightdragon I have noticed them liking my stuff and almost always lives a comment I really appreciate it.

Part 4

The way (y/n) took over Massimos house resembled to a tiger being released from its cage, authority suited her as she strolled around with her chin high and her eyes making grown men shiver and scurry away after mumbling “yes, miss”.

Massimo observed her with his lips in a thin line and his hands curling to a fist, however he knew that any type of reaction would cost him an unbearable amount of power, her family was the only one that came to his aid, the only source of support and protection if he moved even in the slightest way that displeased (y/n) he would be left with nothing.

“A charity ball?!”

“A way to celebrate your success and show to everyone you are left unbothered and unharmed, a gracious move to invite every important person from our cycle and reconcile while standing tall despite the attempted assassinations”

“If you want to wear a fancy dress do it somewhere else, I thought we were supposed to protect this house not let everyone in”

“We accept people that have been exclusively invited by Ass, people who matter, your reputation is at stake, the great massimo has the tail between his legs and is hiding behind his stone walls”

“I am not hiding”

“It doesn’t fucking matter what you have been doing, that is what they are saying, the charity ball is happening like it or not, the invites have already been send out, but your… wife a dress and you better mingle with your guests, like a good and generous host. Got it?”

Massimo identified the assertive tone in (y/n)s and gaze that could burn his entire house down, he could also see his advisor Mario nod at him behind her back, a way to stir Massimo to not push (y/n) further.

“Fine, make your preparations. I am sure if you try hard enough the ball will be decent”

“It will be better than the fiasco Laura had caused, she danced on a pole while somebody called her a whore right?”

Massimos hand slammed on his wooden desk while his other hand instinctively his right hand reached for his gun and pointed it right at her chest. The scary part wasn’t that (y/n) was held at gun point, nor the expression of fury in Massimos handsome face, it was the devilish grin that decorated (y/n)s lips, unfazed by the situation completely.

“Amateur, if you really want to kill me, you aim at the head”

She instructed while her fingers wrapped around the gun and let it touch the skin on her forehead. Massimo was a man that was never afraid to use his weapons, still the way that she did not even blink, better yet she teased him about it left him speechless.

“Massimo put the gun down”

“No, let him, what are you waiting for? Just so you know if I die you will have a bigger problem than a dead body, but an entire empire running after you and my brother wanting your head served in a silver platter”

“You think I am scared of your stupid brother?”

“No, no you are not, you are however scared of me. Even if you plant a bullet between my eyebrows you will never, ever get rid of me”

-

As always (y/n) had gotten her way and the charity ball was buzzing with people, the band she had hired played wonderful music, the staff kept the glasses of champagne full and the platters of small little delicacies going.

Massimo had his hand on Laura’s waist as they went to greet the guests, a United couple that scoffed at the missed jabs of their enemies, at least that’s what they portrayed.

The music came to a halt as a slight sound of the champagne glass summoned every guests attention. As Massimo looked up at the start of his stairs he was met with (y/n) smiling brightly with a glass in her hand, “she finally showed up” he thought

“Our dear guests, I apologise for interrupting any conversations but we have all night for chatter, me and my family would like to thank our dear friends Massimo and his family that were so kind to extend their hospitality to us, I would like to take this moment to raise my glass. To you and your wives success, both of them beautiful, kind and strong despite all. Cheers to the perfect couple”

Everyone clapped and took a sip, to anyone that did not know any better this was such a gracious gesture, a declare of loyalty and a announcement of the two families being allies, to Massimo this was a hit below the belt, to sarcastically smile and praise his wife after everything that has taken place.

Regardless of it all he took a slight sip as his grip to Laura tightened, he wanted to kill her, grab (y/n) by her pretty neck and snap it like a twig, his eyes followed her figure when she went down the stairs.

God was she bewitching, a sight for sore eyes in her dress, the most infuriating part about (y/n) is that he always left him in shambles, to kill her or to fuck her? That is the question

“(Y/n), I have to say that speech was very kind of you”

“What can I say I have a soft spot for love, we started off on the wrong foot Laura, that does not mean we should continue that way”

She was lying, Massimo knew that much and what was worst is that Laura was buying it, his wife believed that (y/n) was genuine and did not just plan an evil scheme to ridicule him further. (Y/n) reached for Laura’s hand to give it a slight squeeze of comfort.

“I am delighted you chose to wear the dress I send for you”

“It was the best out of all how could I not?”

“And you look good in it too, I will catch up with you two later, I must say hello to someone”

(Y/n) was over the moon, just the look on Massimos face made it all worth it, his hands were completely tied and there was nothing she could accuse her of, hell she had even mend her relationship with Laura and now all eyes were on Massimo.

(Y/n) approached the person she was interested in, the only man that made it look good while being completely out of place.

“So you must be… nacho? Right?”

“Yes, and you are miss (y/l/n)”

“Precisely, although I must say nacho does not suit you”

“It is only a nickname”

“I can definitely think of others that would be better”

“Is that so?”

His eyebrow raised at the sneaky way of the woman that weasels her way in his reader, he had seen her walk around the garden, a striking presence could not be missed by any man and she had been captured by his baby blue eyes, the man was sculpted by the Gods and she just so happened to be in need of a hobby. (Y/n) bit her lip as she swiftly nodded at him, the look of a helpless innocent doe that she held worked its magic on him as his pearly whites appeared at a grin.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about your work, people say you are… good with your hands”

“Such flattering words miss (y/l/n)”

“Would you like to show me your… works?”

“Whatever miss (y/l/n) wants she gets right?”

“Lead the way then and please call me (y/n)”

Her voice barely above a whisper as she said her name. Nacho only left his glass on a stand before he let his hand touch her waist and escorted her out of the mansion, what the man had not noticed is that as they went in the garden and away of the eyes of strangers Massimo had silently followed them, curious to see what was happening, who was he? Why was (y/n) walking away with him? He could barely hear what they were saying until they reached a more secluded part and stopped, (y/n) rested her back on a wall as she held her glass of champagne.

“Have you always been interested in gardening?”

“No, I like trying new things”

“That sounds promising”

“I must admit I had my eye on you”

“I noticed”

“You are a very interesting woman”

“I know, I must say you have a lot if potential… if you are up for it”

Massimos blood boil at the sight of (y/n) so sexually flirting with a man, she had never been like that with him, why would this low life get to have her while he could not even get a bite? Nacho placed his hands at either side of (y/n)s face supporting himself on the stone wall, she looked mesmerising under the moonlight, her chest rose as she took in a deep breath.

“I have never been afraid to get my hands dirty”

“Kneel”

She command him, Nacho took the champagne glass from her hand and took a sip before he leaned to connect his lips with hers, at the slight part of her lips he was able to pass a small amount of the champagne in her mouth making the kiss even more thrilling.

He pulled away from her to do as he was told, his one hand went underneath her dress to caress her leg from her ankle and up bringing goosebumps along her spine.

“Obedience becomes you”

“And we have only just began”

Nacho had kept the glass only to take a big sip of what was left of it and throw it away, quickly he lifted her dress and allowed the liquid to ran down the part that ached the most, the cooling sensation made her hiss before pleasure took over.

Massimo stood dumbfounded as he watched from the bushes his (y/n) have such an intimate moment with someone beneath her, he could imagine how good it would feel if he sliced his throat right at her feet, or maybe he should fuck her right there and make him watch. In reality, he froze at his spot as (y/n) let a few audible moans slip past her lips, he should leave, spare himself the fury of being a bystander.

(Y/n) could feel the thrill of nachos skill take over her, not only was the man between her legs extremely qualified, she was also aware of whom it was that had followed them and was now sneaking a peek through the woods, just the image of Massimo being helpless and having to endure the show of her become undone with another was enough to send her over the edge.

To have a gorgeous man please you while risking exposure while simultaneously getting on your first loves nerves was the biggest aphrodisiac that no money could ever buy. Once she felt herself slowly shimmer down she guided her hand on nachos chin and ran her thumb over his swollen lips before leaning down to plant a peck on them.

Massimo saw something beyond the pornographic scene, the movements, the lust in her eyes, the need to blow off some steam in that way. She was no longer the person he knew way back when, (y/n) had become… like him.

“You are so… good, now go”

[hopelesslys-world]

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME SERIES

PAIRING: MASSIMO TORRICELLI x INEXPERIENCED!READER

CHAPTERS:

1

2

3

4

5

6

[0-animelover-0]

Marcovaldo family x Reader

A/N: Massimo with a Feminine S/O, takes place after Massimo adopts Alberto.

My masterlist is -> here

Massimo (Luca)

Massimo is a kind man, we all know that.

He likes to hold your hands in his larger ones. He is a softly for the ones he loves.

Cooking together and walks are things he enjoys doing with you.

He isn't the jealous type, he trusts you completely.

He is a big guy so he gives you ever bigger hugs that last a few seconds unless he's in a hurry. Then it's just a quick hug.

He adores the things you do. Even if it is simple as doing something right. He treats you like you are the only person in the world.

Massimo may be a tall man with little words but his eyes and hands tell a different story. His light touches are gentle and love is always shown in his eyes as he looks at you. It's obvious that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

His daughter, Giulia, felt indifferent about you at first.

She wants what is best for her father and wants him to be happy.

But she also doesn't feel like he needs another potential spouse after him and her mother.

She felt like her father and mother would get back together but gave up on that hope after a while.

Giulia slowly warms up to you after seeing how happy you make Massimo.

She told her dad and admitted to you that she'd never call you "Mama" or "Mom".

You gently reassured her that it is completely okay if she never does. And you also told her that you'd never replace her mother which she greatly appreciated.

Massimo does plan things between the three of you to try and bond.

The man is a giant sweetheart when it comes to you and his daughter.

If he ever saw you and Giulia sleeping beside each other due to her accidentally falling asleep by you... Mans has an overload of emotions.

Of course he doesn't show it all that much but you can tell that he enjoys seeing you and his daughter getting along.

On the other hand, Alberto kinda liked the idea of having a mother figure in his life.

He thinks it is nice that Massimo found someone who loves him.

Alberto was hesitant at first during your first encounter but very soon he warmed up to.

He'd be protective over you if anyone came around you for too long.

He wouldn't admit it, but he enjoys moments when you run your fingers through his curly hair while he's in your lap. Instantly knocked out 'cause of it being so relaxing.

He would call you "Mama" or "Mom" at one point in yours and Massimo's relationship.

Alberto would want to show you everything he is proud of. How good he swims, how he can ride a bike, how fast he can climb, etc.

Moving on to tiny oneshot...

"Giulia! Alberto! Dinner is ready!" You yelled from the kitchen. When you received no response, you went outside and yelled it again towards the beach.

Giulia and Alberto looked at each other and big smiles broke out onto their faces. Giulia stood up before he could. "Race ya home!"

The boy quickly got up and laugher erupted from the both of them. They were both out of breath when they reached the house. Alberto put his hands on his knees and swallowed as he panted. "I won."

You smiled and rolled your eyes seeing the two of them compete against one another. "Come on you two. Eat before the food gets cold." You sat plates down onto the wooden table for everyone including yourself.

Giulia threw her hands in the air. "Yes! Trenette al Pesto!" Her and Alberto stuffed their faces with the pasta that you cooked.

You chuckled softly at the display and shook your head. "Woah woah, slow down. You're going to choke if you eat that fast."

Alberto shrugged and put more of the noodles on his fork. "It's alright Mama, I won't." The boy stopped mid bite with the fork close to his mouth; his mouth wide open. He was frozen as he realized what he had said. Giulia looked at him with big surprised eyes and her cheeks looked like a chipmunk since she was eating when he spoke.

Massimo raised one of his thick eyebrows while you tried not to tear up. Alberto put the fork down and finally looked at you. He cleared his throat and nervously met your eyes. "I'm sorry, it just slipped out."

You weren't mad or weirded out by him calling you 'Mama'. You found it sweet and made your heart swell. You leaned forward and put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't be sorry. I don't mind if you call me that. If you want to, you can."

Alberto smiled. "Really? I-I can?" He immediately jumped down from his seat and hugged you tightly. You blinked down at him but then happily smiled and wrapped your arms around him. Giulia was now smiling softly at the scene with her head tilted. Massimo cracked a smile and put a forkfull of pasta in his mouth.

[massimosundayfanpage]

i just watched 365days. i rate it 9 von 10. 😀.

[streets-in-paradise]

Girl, THIS IS THE BEST FUCKING PIECE OF FANFICTION I HAVE EVER READ!!!!

For real, this was so well written I felt i was reading the fragment of a chapter on a novelization incluiding a new character. This trascends fanfiction, this is …

Perfect, more than perfect! I don't deserve you as a writer friend, holy fuck you are freaking amazing!!

Calming myself down a bit, I noticed how we both enjoy a similar concept because in the fic i am preparing for you we also have a part of the reader exposing something and Maximus getting invested in what she tells during a " omg, he is paying attention to me! look how focused he is, i think he likes my company! " moment.

Our simp minds think alike and I love that. We both thought " I want him to listen me and find me interesting as we bond through discussion of higher concepts in a mundane scenario"

As a final note of my comment, your fic was so inspiring that my daydreamer ass came up with a made up soundtrack for what I was reading. It is not culturally accurate, but i rushed to search to enrich my experience because the radio inside my mind started to play it while I was reading.

It's more than a fic, a deleted movie scene.

Tender Fires

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, with a few hints of spice)

Word Count: 6.4k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: I'm back with another Maximus fic! This is actually part of a larger narrative in which Maximus escapes the execution attempt and ends up at reader's farm, where she tends his wounds and they fall in love but have to fight their feelings because he intends to leave to keep her safe. As always, this fic is written from the deepest longings of my lovestruck heart, and I hope that love is obvious :) Thank y'all so much for your kind words about the last fic, and I hope you enjoy this one!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“You’re up late.”

At your words, Maximus turns his head to look at you, and a soft smile crosses his lips. His features are etched in shadow, flickering with the dancing firelight.

He’s seated in front of your kitchen fire, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, gazing deep into the flames as if searching for some hidden meaning within. You would never have known he was in here if you had not been awakened by the loud cracks of thunder outside and come in search of the warmth of the fire.

An autumn storm, a midnight fire, and the most captivating man you have ever known, dressed only in his plain white sleeping tunic. It seems like a combination intended to lure you into trouble.

As you move to sit in the chair beside him, he looks back into the hearth, a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. “I have stayed awake staring at many fires in my life,” he tells you quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful.

Out of the corner of your eye, you risk a glance at him, looking for the scar on his ribs. He has been with you for a little more than two weeks now, helping you with odd jobs around the farm as his strength returns. His wounds, though still vulnerable, have healed quickly, and you are relieved to see no signs of further injury on the parts of his skin that you can see.

“As have I,” you reply, eyes still lingering on him. “Though for me, it has always been the same fire. This one.”

He hums in response, nodding slightly. You have never sat by this fire together at night, and you are bewitched by the way the light dances over him, makes his golden skin shimmer. The lines of his arms and shoulders are limned in shadow, the firelight flickering on his handsome features.

You are overcome with a desire to put your hands on him, to feel the heat of his skin and the strength of his body, but you cast your gaze on the fireplace instead.

“I envy you that,” he answers softly, after a short reflection. He glances up at you, studying you intently. “A home fire, always burning in the same place.”

The meaning of his words is not lost on you.

Every day, the thought of him leaving you is more painful. At the moment, as you sit close enough to listen to him breathing, the thought is unbearable. Your home is his home now, and you long — more than you have ever longed for anything — for him to realize that he belongs here.

His shadowed eyes search yours a moment more, then return to gazing at the flames.

You take a deep, steadying breath to calm yourself. Your hands are trembling, and you smooth them over your skirt, hoping he does not notice how nervous you are from this simple interaction.

“Tea?” you ask quickly, pushing yourself to stand and get a bit of space between the two of you.

He glances up again, and your heart clenches at the gentleness in his expression. He nods. “Thank you.”

Have his eyes ever seemed so wide, so earnest? Are you imagining the way his gaze lingers on you, drinking in every detail of the way you move?

You can feel the tension in the room thickening, your own heart beating faster as you fill the kettle with water and set the tea leaves to brewing. Somehow, sharing space with this man is so much more intimate at night, with a storm raging outside and a warm fire bringing extra heat to the atmosphere.

Even more astonishing to you is the fact that you are not afraid of this powerful soldier. He is strong enough to do anything he wishes to you, to take whatever he obviously wants. But even now, standing here in your night shift, with your hair and your defenses down, you have no fear of him.

If anything, you wish he would initiate a touch, a kiss, anything that would lead to the passion that has been haunting your dreams every night.

Such as your dream last night. You can still feel the sensation of your body thoroughly tangled with his, your limbs entwined, his hands pulling your skirt up to your waist. Your cheeks burn when you remember all the places he kissed in your dream, all the places he touched and explored and pleasured. Such thoughts make you ache all over again, especially now that you are standing so close to him.

A blinding crack of lightning, followed by the roar of thunder, pulls you from the dream-memory of his mouth hot on your throat.

To distract yourself from such dangerous thoughts, you ramble on the first topic you can think of. “My father used to tell me stories beside this fire,” you announce as you hang the kettle over the fire and settle back into the chair beside him. You don’t dare meet his eyes, even as a smile crosses your lips at the memory. “I always begged him to tell me ghost stories even though they frightened me.”

He tilts his head to the side to look at you curiously, a smile of his own playing at his lips. “What kind of ghosts do you have in these parts?” he asks, leaning on one arm of the chair to look at you more squarely.

Somehow, having his full attention focused on you is unnerving, undoing, arousing. You can hardly find the words to speak.

His eyes are still on your face as you feel a deep blush burning in your cheeks. You hope he will attribute it to the warmth of the fire, not your intense reaction to the way he gazes at you. If he only knew how much more heated you are by his presence.

“My favorite is the Howling Woman,” you blurt out, glad that your voice is not as unsteady as you feared. “She wears all gray, with her head covered. She’s been seen in these mountains for decades.”

He does not interrupt you, but your breath catches as his gaze wanders across your face. An absent smile is still on his lips, and he seems to be content to simply watch you, to let his eyes trace the lines of your face, your neck, your hair where it tumbles over your shoulders. His gaze is searching, admiring.

How will you find the strength to hide your desire when one look from him could bring you to your knees?

Clenching your jaw and willing the kettle to boil faster, you continue your story determinedly. “They say she was the wife of a farmer who was killed after being thrown from his horse. She found him with his neck broken.” You pause, still breathless from the effects of his undivided attention. “She went mad and drowned her own children. When she came to her senses and realized what she had done, she walked into the wilderness to die.”

You wait for him to interject, to ask some clarifying question or comment, but he does not. He is still leaning on the arm of his chair, his dark eyes captivated by the sight of you in the firelight. You can almost sense the way he is actively preventing himself from letting his gaze wander further down — where your shift does little to hide the shape of your figure.

But somehow, his watchfulness is not an act of seduction. He seems genuinely swept up in your story, spellbound by the sound of your voice. He listens to you intently, curiously, and waits for you to continue.

“But to punish her for her crime,” you continue, blushing even harder, “the gods cursed her to wander these mountains and valleys for eternity, never able to die and meet her family in the afterlife.”

It is the sound of your voice, you realize now. His gaze wanders over your features slowly, as if measuring them, but his silence persists the longer you speak. It is as if he cannot bring himself to interrupt you, so captivated as he is by your voice.

“She still walks at night,” you finish, finally allowing yourself to look deep into his eyes. There seems to be no end to them, no way to pull yourself out of the gaze that holds you captive. “She wanders, calling and wailing and howling.”

He swallows hard, licks his lips, though you guess he does so unconsciously. A shiver runs up your spine, and not from your ghost story.

You lean forward, just an inch or so, to finish the story. “They say you can hear her best on a night like this,” you whisper, and the silence between you is so concentrated that you feel you might choke on it.

His gaze flits down to your lips for a moment, and in this flickering firelight, surrounded by warmth and desire, you think he may kiss you.

The silence is broken by a loud crack of thunder outside, one that makes you jump at its suddenness. You both look away, realizing how intently you have been gazing at one another for an inexcusably long amount of time.

The tea in the kettle is boiling at last, and, glad for the distraction, you lean forward to take it off the fire. Your two cups are sitting on the table beside you, and you fill both before handing one to him. He nods his thanks, and the two of you sit quietly for a few moments, looking deep into the firelight.

He is the one who finally breaks the silence. “Do you believe in ghosts?” he asks softly, with that pleasant raspy quality you have come to recognize in him at night.

You smile and lean back in your chair to sip at your tea. “Of course,” you confirm lightly. “Don’t you?”

His expression grows quizzical, and he doesn’t lift his eyes away from the fire. He takes a sip of his tea, thinks for a long time before answering. You are more than content to sit in silence with him, but he finally comes to an answer.

“No,” he tells you quietly, still mesmerized by the dancing flames. Eerie shadows prance over his fine features. “Spirits do not wander the earth after death. They go to the afterlife.”

His voice is calm and even, but resolute, assured. You have talked so little with him about such things, and you cannot deny your curiosity at learning more about what he believes.

“How do you know?” you press, unconsciously leaning toward him.

He does not move for a moment, just grips his cup tighter and sharpens his gaze at the fire. “I have seen enough death to feel certain of it,” he declares, then turns his head to look into your eyes again. “If ghosts could exist,” he tells you softly, gently, “then I would be haunted by them every moment.”

Your heart aches for him now, for the pain and grief he carries with him always. His life has been difficult, laden with the weight of many lives and much responsibility. Even in a peaceful haven like your home, he is ever followed by the burdens of his past, no matter how much comfort and peace you have offered him.

“Perhaps they do not wish to speak to you,” you suggest, tilting your head to show that you are teasing him. “Perhaps you do not know all there is to know in the world.”

His haunted expression softens as he looks at you, taking in the meaning of your words. As before, his soft smile smoothes the lines in his face, lifts a bit of the weariness etched into his features. You can’t help wondering if he realizes your effect on him, if he craves these moments of tranquility and comfort as much as you do.

“I am sure of that,” he tells you in a low voice, and your heart turns over at the simple passion in his eyes.

You lapse into silence once again, each of you drinking your tea and losing yourself in thought. Your own ponderings are of him, wondering what he is thinking. He has seemed burdened ever since you found him sitting by the fire, and you long to know what worries him.

If he only knew how your heart leaps at the sight of him, how you long to cradle his face in your hands, to kiss him until all his burdens are lifted, until all he knows is this deep, all-consuming love that has swept over your heart like an autumn storm.

The thunder continues to roll outside, the rain pelting your roof relentlessly, but the warmth of the fire and the pleasant constancy of his presence is comforting.

You do not press him for several long minutes, letting him mull over his worries in silence until both of you have finished your tea. When you set your two empty cups on the table beside you, you finally decide to inquire, pushing your chair a few inches nearer to him and leaning on one arm of the chair so you can look into his eyes more closely.

“What troubles you?” you ask softly, and he finally lifts his head, dark eyes burning into yours with all the intensity of the hearth fire.

His voice is hardly more than a whisper when he replies, “Ghosts.”

“Memories?” you ask, entranced by the way he slowly leans forward, closing the distance between the two of you one inch at a time. Your skin suddenly burns, aching for a touch, one simple touch, that will answer your constant longing for his hands on you.

After a moment of hesitation, in which he seems to ponder the consequences of what he wants, he finally lifts one hand and trails his fingertips down the side of your face.

“Shadows of things I do not understand,” he murmurs absently, and he traces the line of your jaw with fingers so gentle you cannot imagine them ever wielding a sword.

He gazes at you more openly now, his eyes traveling down to your lips as his thumb brushes over them. You suppress a shudder at the contact, and he strokes your lips a few times, transfixed by the sight, before sliding the backs of his knuckles down the column of your throat.

Stars in the heavens, if he only knew how your body is aching for him, how you respond to the slightest touch he gives you.

You finally find your voice to speak. “Is it your men?” you ask softly, as if the room has suddenly been overtaken by a spell.

He sighs, brow furrowed deeply in thought. “They were not my men,” he replies at last, still stroking his fingers down your neck. “Not the ones who betrayed me. My men were loyal, courageous.” His voice is thick with sorrow, and you sense that recalling this memory is painful for him. “They were my brothers,” he half-whispers. “They would have risen up in rebellion if they had known.”

Your heart aches again at the sadness in his voice, the sadness he works so hard to disguise throughout the day. Somehow, in the darkness, in the stillness of nighttime, he seems more vulnerable.

“Why does the Emperor want you dead so badly?” you finally venture to ask.

His hand stills on your neck, eyes not quite focused on your face. He seems to be traveling back in time in his mind, and he draws a deep breath as he thinks. Almost as if he does not realize what he is doing, his hand wanders to the base of your neck, absently stroking the sensitive skin there.

It’s all you can do to hold still, to keep from betraying how perfectly wonderful his touch is to you.

His voice is low and measured when he answers your question. “I once received favor that he believed should have been his.” He pauses, then raises his eyes to meet yours meaningfully. “By his own father.”

His words take you aback, and you know he must notice your wide-eyed stare. “Marcus Aurelius?” you squawk in disbelief. “You knew the great Emperor?”

“Yes,” he replies, his face softening into a smile at the memory. You are shocked by the revelation, but his fond smile warms your heart after seeing his heavily burdened expression a moment ago. 

He presses on, though his hand is now running softly over your shoulder, skimming over the top of your thin shift. “I was young when he took me under his wing,” he explains, eyes tracing the path his hand is making on your shoulder. “I had won some small battles, and he saw in me potential for greater things. He made me what I am today.”

He strokes your shoulder once, gently, then removes his hand, as though he cannot trust himself to keep touching you there. Again lifting his deep blue eyes to meet your gaze, he looks at you so tenderly, so affectionately, as he raises the same hand to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You want to melt, to close your eyes and sigh in pleasure at his simple touch, but you fight for your composure. “He must have been a great man,” you manage instead, meaning every word.

“He was the greatest man I have ever known,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers through your hair at your temple now. “He is the closest thing to a father that I ever knew.”

You have noticed how the man is drawn to your hair whenever you leave it down. He seems fascinated with it, with the way it cascades through his fingers when he cards them through it. His attentions are so gentle, so unobtrusive, as if he is unable to keep himself from simply admiring your beauty in this soft firelight.

“And that is why the Emperor envies you,” you observe to keep from losing your breath.

“Yes,” he answers quietly, his voice hardly above a whisper. “He believed that his father wanted to pass on his power to me.”

You nearly startle in surprise at his words. Not only the commander of the northern armies, not only a confidante of Marcus Aurelius, but the rightful future emperor himself?

You almost feel dizzy, though you’re not sure if it is from the shocking news or the way his fingers keep brushing your temple as he plays with your hair. “Did he?” you prompt him breathlessly, genuinely curious.

He ponders for several long moments, letting your hair stream between his fingers. You are entranced simply by looking at his features — his dark eyelashes, his sharp nose, the gentle creases by his mouth. He is so exquisitely lovely to you, so unaware of how deeply he affects you.

“I do not know,” he finally admits, tracing the side of your face before letting his hand fall back into his lap again. “He never told me.”

His words silence some of the shock you were feeling at wondering if you were in the presence of a man who was supposed to have ruled Rome. The thought of this man, this humble, honest, unpretentious warrior, ruling such a corrupt and conniving empire is almost unthinkable.

You are struck by the absence of his touch, and he seems hesitant to initiate any more contact now that he realizes how close he has drawn to you. He’s still watching you carefully, as if gauging your reaction to his touches, but you cannot resist reaching out to him now.

Your fingers seek out the necklace that hangs down to his chest, a simple cord bearing two wolf’s teeth on the end. You have never asked him about its origin. You handle it carefully, and the man barely breathes as your hand hovers over his chest.

“What would you have done if all this had never happened?” you ask softly, caught in the intimacy of this quiet moment. “Would you have been a soldier all your life?”

Your question is a heavy one, full of unspoken desire and curiosity. You can tell he senses that desire by the way his dark eyes burn into yours, by the way his chest rises and falls more quickly, as if you are taking his breath away just by touching his necklace.

He thinks for a few moments, still gazing deep into your eyes. “I always imagined I would die in battle,” he tells you, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “There seemed no other fate in store for me.”

Your heart tightens, and you let go of your loose grip on his necklace. Suddenly, all you want to do is touch him, to make contact with his body somehow. His words have struck a chord in your heart, reminding you how grateful you are that this world-weary soldier has come to your home, to your hearth, instead of falling on a battlefield hundreds of miles away.

With your pulse racing, you press your hand flat against his chest, splaying your fingers over his heart. Even through the fabric of his nightshirt, you can feel his heart pounding like a war drum, perfectly in rhythm with your own.

Oh, how you long to press your heart against his, to be wrapped up in his arms, so thoroughly tangled with his body that you cannot tell where you begin and he ends.

His breath comes more quickly now, his lips parted and his eyes scorching yours with a hunger that stirs your blood.

“But,” he begins in a hoarse whisper, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then back up, “I did imagine, sometimes…” He pauses, licks his lips again, takes a slow breath, “that if I did have a chance to grow old… I might…”

He halts again, his voice dying in his throat. You press your palm more firmly against his chest, and his heart skips a beat beneath your hand. You can feel his skin burning hot under his shirt.

“Tell me,” you whisper, and a look of unadulterated desire flashes across his face.

He leans close to you, close enough that his breath skims over your lips. “That I might one day have a home,” he breathes. “A family.” He sighs softly, the longing in his voice especially evident. “A life of peace always seemed… unlikely.”

The hesitation in his words is palpable, and suddenly his own larger hand is covering yours, pressing it tight against his chest. You realize that he is relishing your touch the way you relished his a moment ago.

After holding your hand against his heart a moment longer, he grasps your hand in his, lifts it to his lips. Your own heart skips a beat now, when he presses a slow, languid kiss to the back of your hand.

“And now?” you whisper, breathless and tingling with need.

He breathes against your hand, slowly and calmly. “Now,” he echoes, his voice rumbling in your bones. “Now a life of peace seems impossible.”

No. No, he cannot mean that. He cannot still mean to leave you when his gentle eyes speak of the passion he holds for you.

“It does not have to be,” you insist, lifting your free hand to touch the side of his face. He actually sighs at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. His lips are slightly parted, and it takes all your willpower not to lean forward and kiss him until he can breathe nothing but your name.

His eyes remain closed when he responds, your hand still cradled in his. “To believe otherwise would be foolish,” he tells you, though his voice is anything but resolute. “Dangerous.”

You stroke the side of his face tenderly, enraptured by the way he reacts to your touch. He seems so relaxed, so overwhelmed when you caress him gently. The thought suddenly strikes you that this man has probably never been touched this way — not as light as a feather, with such love and affection that he can feel it beating in rhythm with his heart.

When you brush your fingertips down his neck, over the sensitive skin of his throat, he makes a sound so soft, so unguarded, that you nearly come undone for him right there.

“Are you not well acquainted with danger?” you whisper, leaning in closer to him. He opens his eyes when he feels you drawing nearer, and his fathomless eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You want him to stay. You want him to love you as you so desperately love him. You want him to never stop looking at you the way he is now.

And when you press your hand flat against the side of his neck, your gaze fluttering over every perfect feature of his face, his soul opens to you, and you see all the love you bear for him reflected deep in his own eyes.

“Yes,” he breathes, and he leans forward to close the few inches that separate your lips from his.

The first sensation that strikes you is his blood pulsing in his neck, hammering against your hand as you caress him. His own hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place while he presses his lips against yours.

There is no hesitation in this kiss, no second-guessing or reluctance. His lips move against yours in a rhythm so natural that you wonder if he has imagined this as many times as you have.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, drowning in your kiss like a dying man seeking air. You can feel the breath knocked out of your lungs, so unaccustomed to any attention as passionate as this. The man lifts his other hand to cradle your jaw, still kissing your lips, gently but insistently, over and over and over.

This is what heaven must be like, you realize distantly when his tongue slides against yours, every inch of your skin tingling in response. His undivided attention, his unashamed desire for you is so arousing, so delightful in every way.

You can feel your cheeks burning, your skin heating up, the longer his hands linger on your face and neck. His fingers stroke your jaw, and his other hand grips your hair just hard enough to hold you in place. He is still reveling in your kiss, still using his lips and tongue to draw out the softest moan you have ever made in your life.

As soon as he hears it, he moves his lips to press against the corner of your mouth, much as he did the first time he kissed you in the barn. He trails his lips down your jaw, peppering kisses on every inch of skin he passes.

Thoroughly excited by his kisses and touches, your mind is all too eager to provide any number of tempting images. When he dips his head to one side, lips touching the place where your jaw meets your neck, all you can imagine is the careful way he would undress you, lay you down, and make love to you, slowly and gently but passionately.

He drags his lips down your neck, his curious tongue coaxing another soft sound from you. Again, your mind flashes to all the ways he might use his tongue on you, all the places he could seek out and tease until you are so dizzy with pleasure that all you can say is his name, over and over.

Another press of his tongue, and it takes all your strength not to beg him to take you right here. You can imagine it so easily, the way he would grip your waist, your hips, the way you would wrap yourself around him and touch every inch of his bare skin if he would only give you the chance.

What would you not give to see him shudder in pleasure, to throw his head back and hold you tight as you cling to him and make him feel the same thing he ignites in you?

It’s at that moment that he whispers your name, tenderly, reverently, like a prayer, against the soft column of your throat. Your whole body shudders in response, your hands tightening where they have landed on his broad shoulders, and he finally fulfills what you have been aching for.

One strong arm wraps around your waist, the other around your upper back, and in the space of a breath the man has pulled you against him, leaning you to the side so that you are cradled in his arms across his lap.

You are suddenly very aware of how thin your shift is, of the way he must be able to feel every curve of your body pressed against him. His fingers are gentle where they wrap around your waist, and you feel with heightened awareness all the strength of his own body, all his powerful muscles and vigorous energy.

All you can do is sigh in pleasure as he keeps his head buried in your neck, still kissing your sensitive skin as though he cannot get enough of you.

You can barely take a breath, so overcome with the multitude of sensations he ignites in you. His hand flexes against your waist, and you respond in kind with your fingers digging into his back.

You have the distinct impression that the man is having to physically restrain himself from going further, that all he wants to do right now is yank open your shift and kiss his way down your bare body. As irresistible as that thought is, you let him take the lead, and he chooses to simply kiss you rather than ravish you.

He is a noble man, a man of honor, and though your body is aching for him to truly make you his, you take pleasure in his self-control, his respect for you.

His fervent kisses to your neck finally slow, and he breathes against your skin as though trying to memorize you. When he nuzzles his face against your neck, all you can do is close your eyes in absolute ecstasy. One of your hands finds its way into his hair, and it’s his turn to shiver with pleasure, pulling you even closer against his body and resting his lips against the curve of your neck.

He goes still in your arms when you stroke his hair, slowly and tenderly with your fingertips. Again, you are struck by his reactions to your gentle touches, by the way he melts into your arms as though overpowered.

Several long moments are spent in that position, with you cradled against his chest, his face against your neck. You would be content to stay like this all night, just listening to him breathe, feeling his heart beating against your side.

But the moment passes, as all moments do. Another crack of thunder shakes the house, and you can’t help but jump a little in his arms.

As if pulled out of his daze, the man smiles softly against your neck, strokes your back soothingly in a way that only serves to make you arch your body against his. A moment later, he lifts his head from the crook of your shoulder, letting his face brush against yours as you disentangle yourselves.

Though you have just spent the last few moments passionately embracing and kissing, and though both of you are still flushed and breathless with exhilaration, the following moment is not awkward. You do not look at each other as you part, but you can sense your own relief and contentment in him.

You do not know what will come of this. You do not know if he will stay much longer. But in a moment like this, with your lips still swollen from his kiss and your skin still burning from his touch, you feel as though no heartbreak can be as vast as this perfect fulfillment you feel with him.

You stand slowly, glad that you are not as unsteady as you feel, and you lift the kettle off the fire just to have something to do. You can feel the man’s eyes on you, though he does not speak.

“It is a fierce storm tonight,” you comment, almost without realizing that you are speaking. The silence between you was comfortable, but you long to say something, to know that he is still at ease with you.

He takes his time in responding, especially since you have your back to him. “Yes,” he says simply, his voice deep and husky.

Stars, how you want to hear that voice in your ear, in your bed, murmuring to you while you both reach the height of your shared pleasure.

You swallow hard to banish your intrusive thoughts. You move to set the kettle down in your cabinet and scramble to think of something else to say. Rain continues to pound against your roof, sending a slight chill through the air despite the warmth of the fire.

“Will you be warm enough tonight?” you ask over your shoulder, still conscious of his eyes burning into your back.

Again, he takes his time answering. “Yes,” he finally replies. “Will you?”

You let the question hang, still standing with your back to him. You hope he can understand your wordless answer, especially after sharing such an intimate moment.

The only warmth I crave now is the heat of your body against mine.

Still trying to avoid meeting his eyes, you half-turn to pick up your two empty cups from the table. Doing so makes you lean against the side of the little square table, and you notice with great surprise that it does not tilt dangerously to the side as it has for the last several months.

The table legs are perfectly even now, and you suddenly raise your eyes to look at the man squarely. He is gazing at you with the oddest combination of expressions — desire, contentment, admiration, sorrow, longing, affection, and several others you cannot name.

“You fixed my table,” you observe, genuinely struck by the kindness of his simple gesture. You don’t know when he did it, but sometime in the last few days he must have noticed the unsteadiness and taken the time to fix it somehow.

He holds your gaze for a long moment, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “It needed fixing,” he replies simply.

Your heart leaps into your throat, though you can’t say quite why. Despite the fact that just a moment ago you were wrapped up in his arms, sighing while he covered your neck with kisses, you are much more affected by his modest demonstration of kindness — fixing something of yours that was broken.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, returning his small smile with all the warmth blossoming in your heart.

You finish your task, setting the two cups in the cabinet to be washed tomorrow. The storm outside has quieted somewhat, but you can still hear the constant pounding of raindrops on the roof and walls.

Quiet thunder rolls in the distance as you turn to look at the man again. He is still seated, leaning forward with his knees on his elbows, gazing at you curiously.

This is what you want: this man in your home, always, sharing your fire, sharing your space, looking at you as if you hold his heart in your hands.

The words spill from your lips before you can consider them. “My father always told me that a storm can make a person change their mind about anything.” You hear the significance in your own words, and you press on anyway. “He said it’s in their nature to bring about transformation.”

The man’s darkened eyes do not leave yours for a moment, and you hold his gaze steadily, wanting him to hear your unspoken plea.

Stay with me. Let me love you as I do in my dreams.

His face does not betray any decision, but his gaze is tender, filled with a weary longing. His eyes explore each feature of your face as gently as his fingers did a few moments ago.

“Perhaps I will listen to it for awhile, then,” he murmurs, and your heart sighs.

All is not lost. You must simply wait.

As you start towards the doorway that leads to your bedroom, you pause beside his chair. The man is looking up at you with eyes that melt you to your very soul. Overcome with your affection for him, you lift one hand and stroke the side of his face, smiling down at him fondly.

“Goodnight, general,” you whisper, and your heart whispers, Beloved.

Before you can drop your hand, the man wraps his fingers around it and brings it to his lips. An unhurried kiss to the back of your hand, one that sends another shiver down your spine, and he releases you. His eyes burn into yours, intense, ardent, yearning.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, and your heart hears his whisper, Beloved, long after you have slipped into the next room.

[so-fuck-what-im-dreaming]

Date Night | Damiano David

Pairing : Damiano David x Reader

Prompt : A post I saw a while ago where someone was talking about a speakeasy they had been to that also doubled as a tattoo parlour and I couldn't stop thinking about it...

Warnings: Poor Italian translations, bad tattooing process and aftercare, not proof-read

Word Count: 2527

“Are you ready to go Amore?” He asks, walking back into your shared bedroom and standing behind you as you looked in the mirror, slipping your earrings in. “Though I don’t really know why I’m asking, considering I have absolutely no Idea where you’re taking me,” He says with a soft laugh as he places his hands on your hips, pulling you into him.

“I promise you’ll love it,” You assure him as you lean back, resting your head on his chest.

“I’m sure I will,” He says as he starts to kiss your neck. The warm Rome air was flowing through the apartment, all the windows and doors open creating a nice breeze. This was your happy place, here with him. “Mmh…let's get going,” He teases, pulling away from you.

“You just don’t like surprises do you?” You ask him as you put your sandals on, buckling them at your ankle.

“You know I don’t” He says with a grin as He spritzes himself with his cologne. 

You left the apartment hand-in-hand as you walked towards the metro station, it was only a few stops away so you were quickly off again. You double checked the distance when you got out and it was only a five minute walk. You passed the Circo Massimo and you reminisced about when Damiano played there a few years ago. You had only been dating around a year when He begged you to come, guaranteeing you it would be the best night of your life and He had definitely not been lying. 

You had heard the band practising before, even having sat in on some recording sessions…but there was something different about seeing them perform, seeing Him perform. Damiano was almost a different person. He was raw, unapologetic and very fucking hot. Not that He wasn’t anyway but somehow it had been taken to a whole new level.

“It should be just here…” You say looking down at the map on your phone.

“Are you sure Amore? I think your map might be wrong…” He says looking around. You spot what you’re looking for. A dark wooden door with a golden ‘T’ and matching knocker.

“Follow me,” You say with a wide smile on your face as you pull Damiano with you. You knock on the door three times followed by saying the word ‘Sfizio’. A moment passes before you hear it unlocking and the door swinging open. 

“Benvenuti Signore e Signora,” The Doorman says, nodding in your direction as you walk past him. 

“Welcome to temptazione,” You say quietly to Damiano as you both take a moment to soak in the atmosphere. There’s a light haze of cigarette smoke and the smell of expensive cologne filling the air as you’re silently led to a booth in the corner.. 

“Wow…where did you find this place?” He asks, both of you sliding into the dark green leather lined booth.

“Friend of a friend is one of the owners…it opened up a few weeks ago and as soon as I heard about it I knew I had to bring you,” You say, not wanting to give up the biggest secret yet.

The lady who had sat you left a menu card and a small piece of paper. ‘you’ll be seen at 11’ 

“What's that?” He asks as you look at the paper.

“The second surprise of the night…but it looks like you’ll have to wait,” You tease him

“You just can’t help yourself can you?” He asks and you just shake your head. You had just over an hour to kill until it was your turn so Damiano offers to grab the first round of drinks. By half past you were two drinks in, Damiano’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as you alternated between slowly kissing and quietly talking. The next half an hour seemed to go pretty quickly and soon enough you were being escorted down a dark hallway, your boyfriends fingers laced into yours as you followed,

“Leo will be your artist tonight, godere,” She says before leaving you. You turn to Damiano and you can see all the pieces starting to click into place.

“Is this what I think it is?” He asks and you nod, a smile spreading across your face. You had gotten a few tattoos in the past, nowhere near as many as He had and you had been saying for years that you wanted to get them done together some day. “-and you want to?” He asks and you nod again. When he sees your reaction you're pulled into his chest, lips colliding with his. “You’re perfect” He whispers before you're interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway.

“11 O’Clock?” A guy asks as he comes into the room.

“Yes,” You answer and He pulls back a curtain revealing a large leather chair and a tattoo station.

“Do you know what you want?” He asks and you look over at Damiano. 

“I was wondering if we chose for each other,” You suggest, and Damiano’s wide smile was a good enough answer.

“Do you want to leave it as a surprise?” Leo asks, opening a drawer and pulling out a black silk blindfold. You were definitely not a stranger to a silk blindfold. “ I can wrap it up for you so you can wait until you get home to see it? Quite a few of our couples do,” He offers and you both like the sound of that.

You were always slightly nervous before a new tattoo and Damiano knew that. “Let me go first, Amore,” He says, kissing your forehead. “Where do you want it?” He asks.

“Where have you got space is probably a better question,” You reply with a smile and He starts to unbutton his shirt. He shrugs it off and hangs it up on the hook behind the door. As he looks at himself in the mirror trying to see where you could put it you can’t help but admire him. A soft smile rested upon your lips as you let your eyes roam over his body.

“Up here Amore,” He says, directing your gaze back up his chest. “Either the top of my ribcage or just above my waistband?” He suggests, pointing out the two areas.

“I think here should be perfect,” You say, brushing your hand over the top of his ribcage. Damiano heads over to the chair and lays down. 

“Do you know what you’d like Signora?” Leo asks.

“I do, can I have a pen and paper…wouldn’t want to give anything away,” You say smiling up at your boyfriend. He quickly hands them to you and you draw out your design. “If you can do it as close to that as you can, that would be amazing,” You say and he nods. Leo hands you the silk blindfold before leaving the room to make a template of your design.

You moved towards Damiano, walking around the chair so you were looking down at him. He sits his head up slightly so you could tie the blindfold around his eyes.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” You say quietly, moving to sit on the edge of the seat. You slowly run your hand over his chest, paying special attention where his new tattoo will be. You lean down to press your lips to the base of his neck, slowly kissing your way up towards his jawline.

“Per favore…Amore,” He says but you’re interrupted again. Leo pays no mind to the position he found you in as he showed you the template.

“It's perfect,” You say with a smile, getting up and moving to sit in the chair on the other side. Damiano turns onto his side so Leo can reach his ribcage. The tattoo takes about five minutes, maybe not even that. He moisturises the area and covers it up so it’s hidden from prying eyes.

“That means it’s your turn, Amore,” Damiano says, pulling the blindfold from his face and smiling at you.

“I guess it is…how do you want me Signore David?” You ask with a grin as He stands up and walks you over towards the mirror. 

“May I?” He asks and you nod, before taking the back zip of your dress in between his fingers and pulling it down slightly. The dress hung around your waist, revealing the laced bra you wore underneath it. He moved his hand onto your stomach, dragging one of his fingers along the area where your skin disappeared under the lace. “What about here?” He asks.

“I like it,” You say with a smile and He seems pleased with his decision. You look down and see Damiano pulling the black silk out of his pocket. 

“Your turn,” He says as he ties it around your eyes. You feel his fingers lace into yours as he leads you over towards the chair, you carefully sit down, making sure your dress doesn't fall any further.

“Signore? Your design?” Leo asks Dami, who asks to speak to him away from me. Leo leaves the room and I can feel Damiano coming back over to me.

“Leo’s just gone to make the template…he’ll be back in a moment,” He says quietly, only a few inches from my ear. “I think it’s going to look beautiful Amore,” He says, tracing the area again with his finger…then something else…you can feel his breath on your stomach so it must be his tongue. 

“Dami…” You moan softly but he stops…drying the area so nobody would know. 

“Later, I promise,” He says, gently squeezing your thigh as He sits up…Leo having come back into the room.

“Signora…do you mind taking off your bra…I think the fabric might get in the way,” He asks and you sit up, a guy's hands, who you know for a fact are Damiano’s wrap around you, unhooking the bra and moving it away. Your nipples peak at the sudden cold air, then an alcohol wipe to disinfect the area is gently brushed over the area before the design is transferred onto your skin.

“Just stay nice and still for us Amore,” Damiano says, relieving you of any worry or concern you had. 

“Signore…would you like to do it?” Leo asks and there's a moment of silence.

“That's not up to me…Amore?” He asks and you quickly agree.

“Yes, of course,” You say, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the thought of Damiano tattooing something that would be on your body forever. You could still hear the music from the bar as they concentrated, the only other sound being that of the tattoo gun. You didn’t find it particularly painful and before you knew it, it was done. Damiano followed the same routine that Leo did with the aftercare before wrapping it up.

“You did so good,” Damiano says as He kisses your forehead. The silk blindfold is untied, left to drop into your lap.

“I’ll leave you two to get dressed…the charge has been added to your bill. It was a pleasure working with you Signore e Signora,” Leo says with a smile before quickly leaving the room. You loosen your bra slightly so it doesn’t affect the dressing before you pull your dress back up, over your shoulders. Damiano had already buttoned up his shirt by the time his hands reached for the zipper again, gently tugging it up.

“That was amazing Amore, thank you so much,” He says, kissing your shoulder blade.

“Thank you for tattooing me,” You say with a slight laugh. Damiano would later tell you that Leo had been following him on social media so had seen that He had tattooed before, so the whole ‘would you like to’ was a farce.

It was nearing midnight by the time you got back to the bar, both of you deciding to finish your drinks before heading home. Damiano’s jacket was draped over your shoulders as the cool air settled in on your journey home. The metro was quiet and the streets near your apartment were even quieter.

You had decided that you would both wait a week till revealing your new tattoos, wanting to give them time to heal before seeing them for the first time.

..................

The next week flew by, Damiano back in the studio, You were back in the office. It was a pretty unremarkable week that was all counting down towards the day you would finally see your tattoo. Damiano had ordered your favourite food for delivery, you had eaten whilst watching a movie you both wanted to see, a very nice bottle of red wine had been cracked open but both of you knew what the other was waiting for.

“I think it’s time,” You say to him as the film finishes.

“I think so too,” He says, getting up from the couch and taking you by the hand. He led you into your bedroom and towards the mirror. He pulled your shirt off of you whilst you unbuttoned his. Dropping both onto the floor in a crumpled heap. You watched as He moved to his bedside table, pulling out a very familiar black silk blindfold. “I’m going to clean it up before you see it, ok?” He asks, tying the silk around your head for the second time. He takes your bra off and can feel him peeling away the adhesive dressing. He headed into the bathroom and grabbed a damp towel, gently brushing it over the tattoo making sure it was clean and healing properly.

He positioned you in front of the mirror.

“Ready,” He asks and you nod, he removes the blindfold and you look down at your left breast. The dark black inked words cupping it. ‘Il Ballo Della Vita’ Curved around, identical to his, but this time in his handwriting, done by his hand.

“I…I love it,” You say, slightly lost for words. “It’s perfect Dami,” You say, unable to take your eyes off of it. You finally managed to tear your eyes away from it to turn around, pulling him down into a long and drawn out kiss. “Thank you,” You whisper with a wide smile on your face.

The silk is wrapped around his eyes now, damp towel gently wiping at the tattoo before letting him see. You were very impressed at how much it looked like your handwriting…Leo had done a very good job. You untied the blindfold, throwing it behind you and onto the bed as Damiano’s eyes travelled down his own body, locking onto the written words. ‘Sarò ciò che respiri’ Your favourite line from the song He wrote about you.

“You are what I breathe…” You say quietly, now it was his turn to be unable to tear his eyes away. It was very rare that Damiano was speechless…his whole job was putting his emotions into words…but this had stumped him.

“I…” He tries to say but to no luck. You smile to yourself…you definitely won. “It's perfect…you’re perfect…fuck, I love you so much Amore,” He says pulling you into his arms. “How about we put that blindfold to another use?” He asks quietly against the shell of your ear.

finite

[bygiornogiovanna]

Hello there! Apologies if I sound rude! But may I request a scenario where Giorno and Josuke are hit by a Stand and act different?

Giorno acts hyper, bubbly and adorable while Josuke acts super shy, timid and cute? And Reader has to deal with all the cuteness?

Flip The Switch (Giorno Giovanna/Josuke Higashikata x GN! Reader)

anon, u are offically my ˢᵐᵒˡ bean. in your further requests *if there will be more, please sign yourself like that.

the images below represent both me when I read your request and saw how POLITE (and adorable) you were and y/n seeing josuke/giorno ily so much

also excuse that my requests are taking so long. i'm just lazy.

to anyone who requested something, I see your requests!!! and i am working on them, they will come...eventually haha

also, happy one year anniversary to this blog!

"You don't stand a chance against my stand, Y/N L/N!" bluffed the villain under the boss's command, Akari Massimo. He was a tall, light-skinned man, probably in his twenties. If you looked past his evilness, you would see a handsome young man, with golden eyes and a beautiful, healthy white hair, whose smile was nothing but sweet and charming. However...His power of turning one into its opposite wasn't that sweet and charming. His Stand, Flip The Switch, could turn you from woman to man, from sweet to mean, but worst of all...from powerful to weak. Of course, your lover could easily defeat him. The problem was...your lover wasn't there.

You were honestly scared. You weren't weak, but you weren't strong either, so you didn't know what his stand would do to you. You had to buy some time until him or his friends arrived. You couldn't risk it.

"Do you really think all that cheap talk will scare me? Oh please, I've encountered people way scarier than you!" you let yourself do what you knew the best: annoy people. He seemed one that loved his pride, and he wouldn't stand the fact that someone like you would dare insulting him like that.

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut if you want to live! You have no idea what my stand, Flip The Switch, is capable of!" Massimo said and you huffed.

"What is it going to do? Turn me into a cat? Please, it sounds pathetic." you saw his left eye twitch and a satisfied smile crossed your face. "Actually, I wonder, if you use it on yourself, would it turn you into a clown or into the whole circus?" you gave him your sweetest, most fake smile.

You saw his stand appearing behind him and launching an attack towards you. You managed to avoid it, striking back, managing to scartch his face. "You fucking bitch, you scratched my handsome face! You'll pay for this!" he said and you swore you could see fume raising from his ears.

"Oh my..." you said, and before you knew it, another attack was right about to hit you, but...

☆Giorno Giovanna☆

"Not on my watch." You heard Giorno's voice and, suddenly, he appeared in front of you, blocking the hit with his body. You gasped and your eyes filled with tears when, after a few seconds, he didn't get up.

"Giorno!" you voice broke and you felt like your knees would give out when you saw your precious lover laying on the ground while clenching on his stomach.

"Awh, what a shame. Poor blondie boy couldn't save his poor little lover." Massimo said mockingly and he was about to say something else, but you heard Giorno mumble—Golden Experience Requiem.

"Uh oh...If I were you I would start saying my prayers." you said cockily and, before your enemy could react, he disappeared without a trace, probably trapped in the Infinite Death Loop. "Giorno, amore mio, are you okay?!" you rushed to his side, kneeling worriedly before him.

"Y/N..." he started softly and nothing seemed wrong...Until the blonde immediately crashed into your arms, hugging you tightly. "I missed you so much, tesoro!" Giorno yelled and you could swear you never heard him sound so excited.

"I-...Giorno, amore, are you okay?" you laughed and he hugged you tighter, laughing too. The moment you heard that, everything stopped.

Giorno Giovanna, the Don of Passione, laughed.

A sound so heavenly. You last heard him laugh more than two years ago. Giorno never laughs—all somebody, mostly you, can get out of him is a faint giggle. That's all.

You looked at him in shock and the blonde boy looked at you with a cute face, confused. "What's wrong, tesoro?" he asked in a smooth tone and he touched your cheek.

"...you laughed..." you whispered and a smile made its way onto your face. "It's been so long since I heard you laugh. Are you sure you are okay, amore?"

"I'm fine, promise. You don't have to worry about me." he said and his voice sounded ao tender, so smooth and soft, love-filled even. Although Giorno was never aggressive towards you, he never displayed his affection, and especially not in public.

You thought it was just the adrenaline and the fear of losing you making him act like that, but no. This kept going on for multiple days, Giorno acting the opposite of his usual personality.

In the small amounts of time you had alone, because, apparently, Giorno was extremly clingy, never leaving your side, you were thinking about what could've possibly happened for your dear boyfriend to act like this.

Then it hit you.

It was Massimo's stand.

Flip The Switch did that to your boyfriend.

Not that you complained, it was very cute to see your stoic boyfriend be a big baby, but...That wasn't Giorno. You had to talk with Bruno, to find a way...

Suddenly, your trail of thoughts was interrupted by your baby boyfriend coming home and directly jumping in your arms, whining about how much he missed you.

Giorno Giovanna, Italy's biggest man, was whining in your arms.

Yep, you had to do something about it.

☆Josuke Higashikata☆

"Not so fast." Josuke's smug voice could be heard and his tall frame shadowed yours, blocking the Stand's hit with his body. You felt like the world stopped when you saw your boyfriend groaned in pain, taking a few steps aside.

"Josuke!" you yelled and turned him to you. "Are you crazy?!"

"In love, yes." he said smugly and chuckled, clearing her throat. "See? I'm all fine, don't..." he stopped and then scrunched his nose, as if a rush of pain went through him. "Oi, Koichi, Okuyasu, handle this guy f'r me!" Josuke yelled and his two friends nodded, fighting with Massimo.

The pompadour boy fell to his knees, coughing a little. You kneeled by his side, softly rubbing his back, trying to comfort him.

"My love, are you okay?" you asked sweetly, your soft hands caressing his hair. You were the only one allowed to touch the man's hair whenever you want without getting yourself killed.

"I-...I...I a-am okay..." he stuttered, the sound of his words coming out as breathy. You were relived to hear, but then it hit you. Your boyfriend just stuttered.

Josuke Higashikata stuttered.

He shied away from your arms, hiding his blushing cheeks. You frowned confused and you looked between him and Massimo. Quickly, you put the pieces together.

It was Flip the Switch's work.

"Josuke..." you whispered to him and you hugged him tightly. Instead of hugging you back, he squirmed shyly, as he did the first time you hugged him. It made your heart melt and you chuckled softly.

"Y-Y/N what...a-are you doing?" he whispered back.

"Hugging my boyfriend? Is there something wrong?" you chuckled and hugged him tighter, making him blush embarrassed.

"N-no...Everything is okay..." his voice was barely above a whisper and he hugged you back, awkwardly and slowly.

You chuckled and nuzzled your face in his neck. Maybe it wasn't that bad that he protected you from Flip The Switch's attack—now you can be the one who teases and makes him flustered.

It will be fun. Won't it?

[hopelesslys-world]

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME | CH. 6

WARNINGS: NON-CON, Age Gap ( Massimo is 34 reader is 20 ), sex, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, oral (both female and male), yandere themes, stalking, KIDNAPPING, violence, harsh language, murder...

Tell me if I missed something... ( As you can see most of those warnings will make their appearance in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...not edited

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐈́𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔́𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 problems. The driver opened the door for Massimo while you were stuffing your things into your bag—they must have spilled out to the seat during the drive. Massimo rounded the car and opened the door on your side, offering you a hand. He was being very gallant, and in that linen suit of his, he looked simply overpowering.

As both of your feet touched the ground, he discreetly grabbed your ass, pushing you gently toward the entrance. You sent him a shocked glance—that was behavior worthy of an adolescent boy. But he only smirked, sliding his hand up to your back and leading you to the terminal.

That son of bitch...

You’d never had all the check-in formalities done so fast. All you had to do was pass through the building. When you emerged on the other side, another car picked the two of you up and drove you to a small plane.

As much as you enjoyed this whole process of being in an airplane, you couldn't help but be nervous and make your heart stop pounding.

You sat down on a plush leather couch, Massimo soon joined you sitting dangerously closer than you liked. A bottle of champagne arrived but you paid no mind to it wanting to get over with this flight in a calm and quick way as possible.

With Massimo on your side though your whish seemed utterly impossible...

His hand rested behind your hand, not touching you, just settling on the couch. His leaning towards you was obvious as hell, however you knew very well where this was leading.

"You know...I can't get off my head the image of you naked in the shower this morning." he said in a low seducing tone that made your heart pound faster each passing second.

You blushed heavy crimson from embarrassment and shyness and turned your head away from his close face. "No need to be shy with me now, princess. There's no shame wanting to get high in pleasure..." His fingers touched your chin making you look at him, your faces inches away from each other. "...What's a real shame is denying what you feel. You know that I'll be more than happy to provide you with everything you'll need."

Massimo's hand moved from your chin slowly down to your leg, sneaking in your bare skin from your skirts cut giving you strokes in the inside of your thighs that every now and then neared so close to your cunt.

As much as you wanted to give in, your untouched pussy was becoming wet with arousal, however, the incidents happening a few days prior kept your guard up and your reputation high. "No. I can't..." Your hands grabbed his and shoved it away from your thigh.

The Man in Black sigh heavily plopping back to his seated position. "You're making this harder than it has to be Y/N. It doesn't have to be this way." He declared in disappointment shaking his head in disapproval.

You tried. You tried really hard to keep your thoughts to yourself, Massimo provoked you all the fucking time it was impossible!

"Well, excuse me that I don't want to sleep with the man I know for a week, to be more specific the man who kidnapped me." You smiled sweetly at him, then your face got all pouty again.

He scoffed, you could imagine him rolling his eyes at you. "You need to move on, princess. You pouted enough already don't you think? You were so good and obedient today... don't ruin my mood...I want to reward you. Will you be my good girl?"

Massimo pulled you closer leaving a kiss on shoulder his hand behind you caressed your neck softly—teasingly with his fingers as his lips left kitten kisses which trailed upward, to your neck, to your throat and lastly your jawline before his movements came into a halt.

You needed to stop him, you had to stop him, you couldn't let this happen it wasn't right.

What the hell changed!? Just like this morning you despised him and then you wanted to have sex with him!? It doesn't make sense! Nothing makes sense anymore!

Was the sexual provoke too much? Or was it something else ... something deeper? Stockholm Syndrome perhaps. You've heard of this lot's of times from your friend who studied phycology... must be it.

"Answer me baby." He whispered.

Hesitantly, you nodded. Not wanting to awaken a heated argument.

"Use your mouth, baby girl. I want to hear you say it." Massimo looked you in the eyes, his dark brown eyes became completely black with lust and need.

"I will." You replied quietly, obviously meaning it untill he crossed another line.

"Come with me." The Man in Black said eagerly.

He stood up then lifting you up, he lead you in a corridor which was getting narrower in this part of the plane. Massimo had to turn sideways to squeeze through. You entered a dark room with a bed in the middle.

You have to be stupid to not realise where this was going. It was entirely your fault, you let the strings too loose and got his confidence to get laid with you too high.

As soon as he closed the door he attacked your lips in a raw, desperate, way. Catching you surprised, your hands shot to his broad chest pushing him away but he didn't budge at all. Instead his tongue found yours, kissing you more passionately.

The back of your knees found the mattress and the Man in Black slowly lowered you to the soft sheets.

His lips left your mouth and attacked your neck leaving behind red marks in very visible spots. You had to act quick, he didn't even know that you were a virgin. You knew that this wouldn't be a pleasant experience, he was too fierce and worked up to be gentle.

"Massimo, please stop. You have to stop." You begged breathless by his hungry kisses.

"Tell me the real reason. Tell me why you won't let me have you. I know that you desire it as much as I do. Tell me." Massimo demanded.

Should you answer him? Probably, it was time he knows the truth anyway. Maybe he'll stop being so impatient and shameless.

"I've... I've never...done something like this before..." You admitted with your cheeks turning beetroot red.

It was obvious that he was shocked, definitely expecting another reason to your hesitance. His surprised expression turned into a smirk, "Aw, are you still a virgin? Poor baby, doesn't know what she's missing..." He bit his lip.

"Ugh, stop it already." You said in embarrassment turning your body away from him.

Massimo pinned you back to your previous position, "You might think that I'll quit wanting you, but I never step back from such a challenge... And to know that I'll be the first and only to claim you...fuck...you can't imagine how hard I am for you baby girl. Don't worry I'll teach you everything, I'll as gentle as I can, promise."

Despite your fear, you always wanted to do it, you were just too scared.

He started kissing you again this time a little more softly, his trail of pecks reached downwards again, to your line of breasts stopping altogether to take your skirt off you.

You lay still, squeezing your legs together, debating with yourself if you wanted to continue or not.

“Massimo, I'm not sure—” you started.

“I'll make you feel so good. Don’t be afraid, baby girl,” he said, pushing his hand between your legs. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You squeezed your legs together even harder, whining softly with fear. “Shush,” he whispered. “I will part your legs now and start with just one finger. Relax.”

You knew he’d do as he was saying whether you wanted it or not. So you attempted to relaxed. “Good, just like that. Now spread those legs wide for me.”

You shyly did as you were told only that you slightly unsqueezed them

“You’ll be a good girl and do what I say now. I don’t want to hurt you.” Delicately, he started to kiss you on the lips while his hand slid down. With his other hand, he held your head, deepening the kiss. You yielded, and an instant later, your tongues were dancing, quicker and quicker. It was the first time you've allow this to happen.

“So good for me,” he breathed into your ear as his hand reached the fabric of your panties. “I love how obedient your are. Now, be still and don’t move.”

Massimo’s fingers slipped into the most intimate spot of your body which no one else have touched before. Slowly, with his lips right next to your ear, he explored further inside of your thighs, gently stroking them with two fingers, teasing you.

He rubbed your clit and you let out a breathless moan, he stroked up and down collecting and producing more arousal making a slippery little mess. Finally Massimo slid inside your unused pussy. It hurt a tiny bit, you hissed at the new sensation and squirmed relentlessly.

“So fucking tight. Don’t move and be silent. Do you understand?”

You nodded whimpering. His finger sank deeper, until it was all the way in. You clenched your teeth, trying to remain silent, while he started to move, subtly and sensually, inside you. His middle finger slid in and out, while his thumb softly fondled your clit. Your eyes closed and felt his weight subsiding and then shifting downward. You stopped breathing. His finger didn’t stop.

Massimo reached his destination. Suddenly, he slipped his finger out, making you wince. But then you felt his breath through your panties and your heart beat faster and harder.

“I’ve dreamed about it since I first saw you. I want you to talk to me when I start. Tell me if I’m doing it good. Direct me. I want to give you your first ecstasy,” he breathed, pulling your undergarment down your legs.

On instinct, you brought your legs together, embarrassed.

“Spread them wide for me. I want to see you.”

You appreciated his gentleness, the fact that he wanted you to feel more comfortable during your first intercourse. You slowly did as he told you and heard him inhaling deeply. He spread your legs wider, piercing you with his gaze, sinking deeper into you most intimate, secretive places.

“Touch me,” you moaned, unable to keep quiet anymore. “Please...”

Hearing that, he started steadily rubbing your clit, leaned down and sank his tongue in your wet cunt, his movements dynamic. You grabbed his hair pulling roughly, head rolled back at the new euphoric feeling. With the fingers of one hand he spread the lips of your pussy, wanting to reach that most sensitive spot.

“I want you to come, and I want to torture you with more orgasms until you beg me to stop. I want you to look at me. I want to see your face as you come, again and again.”

“Open your eyes Y/N” he demanded his mouth and fingers stopped.

Between your legs, Massimo was at the same time sexy and terrifying. He swooped in again, his lips caressing my clit, and two of his fingers impaled you. You closed your eyes, feeling pressure on your lower stomach.

“Massimo,” you whimpered.

His fingers kept stroking expertly, while his tongue never stopped.

“Kurwa mać!” You shouted in you native tongue as you came for the first time in your life. The orgasm was long and strong, overwhelming. Your body was taut like a string, trapped by what Massimo was doing. When you felt the orgasm subside, he rushed at your exhausted, tender, and sensitive clit again, almost painfully. You clenched your teeth until they grated, squirming—impaled by his two fingers.

“Please, no more...” your voice was weak cried after the next wave of painful bliss overcame you.

The Man in Black slowly relented, let your body cool down, softly kissed and stroked all the places that were hurting now. Your hips collapsed to the mattress when he was finished. As you lay still, he slowly pushed himself up, reached for the nightstand, fishing out a box of wet wipes. Gently he wiped the spots he had been attacking with such passion just a moment ago.

“See, I kept my promise this time,” he winked, and disappeared back into the main compartment.

You kept still for a moment longer, analyzing everything, but you couldn’t believe what had just happened. You only knew two things; that you were so sore now and that surely the feeling of regret washed over you.

Fuck, you regretted that stupid decision! What had gotten into you and allowed him to do this!? A stay tear escaped however you were quick to wipe it away.

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When you returned, Massimo was sitting in his seat, biting his upper lip lost in thought.

You sat down opposite him awkwardly, having no idea how to act around him anymore.

“So... what are our plans for today?” you asked quietly.

He smiled and poured another glass of champagne handing it to you.“You’ll learn in time. I’ll do some business and you’ll get to play the mobster’s girl,” he said, boyish amusement illuminating his face.

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When you landed, a pair of black SUVs and a whole security team was already waiting for you. One of the men opened the door for you, then shut it as you made yourself comfortable in your seat. Each time you saw those cars, you thought they held a little bit of magic—the way they moved all that stuff from place to place. How did those guys and those cars manage to keep pace with Massimo?

What broke your chaotic reverie, probably fueled by all those orgasms, were the words of your oppressor, uttered into your ear.

“I can't wait to be inside you,” he whispered, and his hot breath paradoxically chilled you to the bone. “To deflower that pretty tight pussy of yours. I’d like to feel your wet cunt close around my cock.”

Your breath hitched suddenly at his filthy words. You chose not reply and instead close your eyes and try to calm down the frantic beat of my heart. It grew a bit steadier. Out of nowhere, Massimo’s warm breath vanished, and you heard him saying something to the driver. The words were unintelligible, but after a few seconds, the car veered off the road and stopped. The man stepped out, leaving you two completely alone.

“Sit in the passenger seat in the front,” Massimo said, pinning you with his cold, black stare. He didn’t look like he was about to move himself, which seemed a bit strange.

What has gotten into him all of a sudden? Honestly, you didn't know if you could ever be able to handle his roller coaster mood swings...

“Why?” you asked, disoriented.

Massimo’s face took on an expression of annoyance, and his jaw clenched. “I’ll repeat it one last time: move or I’ll move you myself.”

Again, you couldn’t help it—his tone made your hackles rise. You wanted to resist, if only to see where it took you.

“You order me around like a dog. I am no dog.” you inhaled, intending to berate him for treating you like that, but you didn’t manage to utter another word. Massimo pulled you out of the car by force and then threw you into the front seat. He pulled your hands back, behind the backrest.

“Not a dog. A bitch,” he hissed, tying your hands with some kind of strap. Before you realized what was happening, you were sitting tied to the passenger seat, and the Man in Black sat behind the steering wheel. You started to wriggle your fingers, trying to feel your way around, turns out you'll never found out wutb what he tied you with.

“You like to tie women up?” you asked as he was fiddling with some settings on the dashboard.

“It’s not a question of preference in your case.”

He pressed the ignition button and a woman’s voice from the GPS directed him as he started to drive.

“My back hurts. And my arms,” you said after a couple of minutes.

“Well, I’m hurt, too, but for an entirely different reason. Want to compare?”

You knew he was angry or frustrated. You couldn’t differentiate between those two feelings in him, but you had no idea what you had done to cause this. And even if it wasn’t your fault, he was taking it all out on you.

“Ty cholerny, uparty egoisto,” you whispered in Polish. You damned, stubborn egomaniac. “As soon as you untie me, I’ll smack you so hard you’ll have to look for your teeth on the ground,” You ranted, still in Polish.

Massimo slowed down and stopped at a traffic light, turning to you and fixing you with a furious glare. “Now repeat that in English,” he growled.

You smiled disdainfully and spewed a whole litany of profanities in Polish—all directed at him. He didn’t move, but his glare was growing more furious by the second. As soon as the light turned green, he stepped on the accelerator.

“I’ll get rid of your pain. Or at least take your mind off it,” he said, his right hand found his to the cut of your skirt. His left hand was still on the steering wheel, but the right one slipped under your panties.

You squirmed and jerked in your seat, cursing him and begging him not to do it, but it was too late. “Massimo, I’m sorry!” you cried, trying to get out of his reach. “I’m not in pain anymore! And what I said in Polish—”

“Not interested in that anymore,” he said. “But if you don’t pipe down, I’ll have to gag you. I’d like to hear the GPS if you don’t mind, so shut up.”

His hand slid deeper into your underwear, and you felt a wave of panic flooding you. At the same time, you grew completely docile and stopped resisting.

“You promised you wouldn’t do anything against my wishes and be gentle,” you whispered, leaning back.

Massimo’s fingers irritated your clitoris smearing the wetness that slowly appeared by his touch.

“I’m not doing anything against your wishes. I’m just making sure your hands aren’t in pain anymore.” His touch was growing harder, and the circular motions were sending you down the abyss of his absolute power over you, as much as tried to resist it.

You squeezed your eyes shut and reveled in the feeling he was giving you. You knew he was acting on instinct—he had to divide his attention between two things: driving and punishing you.

You squirmed in your seat, when the car suddenly stopped. You felt his hand leaving, you thanked the universe for siding with you this time, not having to satisfy him with you orgasming again.

“We’re here,” Massimo announced, killing the engine.

You stared at him from half-closed eyelids. A voice in your head was screaming, raging and cursing him. You didn’t have to say it aloud. You knew well enough what his motivation had been. He wanted you to beg him. He wanted to show you how much you desired him, despite rebelling against anything and everything he said and did.

"That's great," you replied, rubbing at your wrists. They hurt so much. “I hope whatever was hurting you has stopped,” you said.

Here it was—that big red button in his head again. The Man in Black shot out with an arm, pulling you over himself, so you sat astride him with your back to the steering wheel. He grabbed you by the waist and pressed your cunt against his hard manhood. You gasped at his bold movement, raising your hips so you didn't sit on him.

“What hurts me,” he hissed, his fury threatening to boil over, “is that I haven’t used that mouth and pussy yet.”

His hips met yours again without your permission and were undulating lazily. That movement and the pressure of his penis made you breathless.

“And you won’t for a long, long time yet,” you whispered, “In fact, I have very much regretted what we did back in the plane.” you added deathly serious.

He froze, watching you closely, looking for answers to questions yet unasked, jaw clenched.

Your silent battle was interrupted by knocking on the window. Massimo lowered the glass, revealing the not-too-surprised face of Domenico. That guy certainly looks like he’s seen everything, you thought.

He said a couple of sentences in Italian, ignoring your position, and Massimo shook his head quickly. You had no idea what they were talking about, but it was clear the Man in Black wanted to have nothing to do with what Domenico was suggesting. When they were finished, Massimo opened the door and stepped out, keeping his hold on you.

You headed toward the hotel he had parked the car next to. You were still clutching him—he didn't let you down so you had no other choice, your legs around his hips. You could feel the surprised stares of the other guests as you passed them without a word, Massimo keeping a poker face.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[ series masterlist ]

TAGLIST: ( THANK YOU ❤️ (if you want to be added comment in the chapters or send a message:) ) @lucidlivi , @sousydive , @lightdragonrayne

DON'T BE AFRAID TO SPAM WITH LIKES AND COMMENTS. I WOULD ALSO APPRECIATE IT IF YOU COULD REBLOG THIS POST <3

[bohemian-nights]

I'm a not a huge fan of Daemon, for me the only cool things about him are his sword and dragon. A few days ago I tried to read some Daemon x reader fanfics just to see how it is and you know, maybe there is something about him that isn't...messed up. But It was exactly what I thought for the most part. It was mostly just D**myra x reader oneshots or Daemon x niece! reader fics. But I wasn't at all prepared for romantic Daemon x daughter!reader stuff and....that was just beyond weird. I can't describe it. I can't fathom how anyone can write such a thing even if it's fictional. There was also a romantic Daemyra x daughter! reader fic....this fandom is getting worse every day. The fact that it was smut just made me completely lose any interest in his character.

The state of Daemon’s fics is not that great. I had to start creating my own because they by in large just weren’t inclusive🙃(even the ones that aren’t incest, and there is still a way to make incest inclusive, have a white reader in mind, but that’s the case with most fandoms).

That being said, I may rag on this man, and I do love to read other people raging on him, but I do genuinely love Daemon Targaryen(he’s the whole reason I started writing fanfiction), I have written Daemon x niece!reader fanfic, and I’m about to start writing Daemon with one(or both) of his daughters…

As a self-proclaimed Daemon stan, he’s the type of character who you either love or you hate.

He is admittedly a psycho(well his show! counterpart has been shown in not the best light and that’s what most of these fics are based on), but he’s got charisma. He’s charming. He has this dark aura about him and there is something so alluring about that darkness.

I mean think of all the other fictional bad boys that have a large fanbase or massive appeal because of their dark and brooding ways. In recent years you’ve got Draco Malfoy, Prince Zuko, Edward Cullen, The Darkling, Namor, Massimo from 365 Days, and Kylo Ren(and now Daemon and Aemond). Go even further back and you have characters like Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre and the Beast from Beauty and the Beast.

These guys are not “good guys” by any stretch of the imagination. Most of them are terrible people(or at least unpleasant) who in real life you should probably avoid. However, their darkness is appealing, and at the center of most of these stories is a woman who has captured this beastly man’s attention and love(and has changed him in a way).

Now as far as his “fanbase”(they are by and large Dumbnyra stans which is why I stay on my island 🏝️ now) leaning into the whole incest /blood supremacy theme, yeah a lot of it is low-key creepy. I may be hypocritical saying it, but the way they do it doesn’t seem normal especially when you take into account how they treat certain characters like Nettles(who is the one who changes him in canon, but they dislike her and want to acknowledge her importance to him due to her not looking like them😙).

I’ll leave it off by saying if you dislike Daemon most of his fics aren’t going to make you like him because of the nature of the content. No one is trying to show him in a good light. His appeal is in the fact that he’s this powerful temperamental brute of a man that their chosen self-insert (s) “tames”🤷🏽‍♀️

[ginevrastilinski-ocs]

Plot bunny: noi siamo leggenda

Give me my new children

My babies! Your babies! Our babies! (You have no idea how much makes me happy someone throwing in my inbox asks about some of my italian babies, you literally have no idea)

Okay so, we have 7 babies, one born after we talked about fcs btw (never had this many for a fiction Rai or generally for one of my italian fandoms lmao)

(Also, can do a little moodboard thing with every ship vibes... if you want to... 👀 I have an idea that I could do even with different couples so... 👀)

Officially meet...

Elia Amato!

Michelangelo's older brother; Nicola Ravenna's best friend; kind of a dick until it's about his brother; no seriously, he's ready to kill a man in a second to protect him. Actually, he's very white cis man vibes but I swear he gets better! Powerless baby (lmao loser) Ship TBD

FC: Lorenzo Zurzolo

Michelangelo Amato!

Elia's baby brother; this boy's anxiety has anxiety; hates crowded places and loud noises and loves music aka he's always wearing headphones in public; a sweetheart with everybody but also the loner of the school; just wished to know what people thinks about him so he could finally fit in... honey, you've got a big storm coming Mind reader. But he struggles a lot with it bc he can't control it, he just hears everybody (the range depends on how much he panicks basically) thoughts all together, unless he's touching somebody, then he hears just that person. That's the main reason why he's always wearing headphones later on btw. Jean Liberati ship

FC: Domenico Cuomo (But could change bc some news says that he might be in it for season 2, so... we'll see)

Ambra Mariano!

Shares class with Greta; from a rich family; actress daughter of actors parents; loves her parents but sometimes wishes they were a "normal" family; tiny closeted lesbian btw Illusions bc she feels like her life is a big one Lin Mei Sun ship (but might evolve in a Lin x Sara ship)

FC: Ellie Bamber

Genevieve Liberati!

Jean's older sister (always complains that everyone thinks she's the younger one); the perfect daughter aka the favourite (hates when her father picks favourites bc Jean is her favourite person in the world); too smart for her own good; somehow always finds out everyone crushes even before them; also lowkey wants to set them all and is basically Cupid lmao Already excited for when in season 2 she'll find out that her father indirectly killed her girlfriend's mother but okay Powerless baby (she's already too much powerful she doesn't need them) Lara Petrescu ship

FC: Katherine Langford

Melissa "Meli" Perez!

Marco, Massimo and Andrea bestie; form a big colombian-italian family; total sunshine girl; just wants to make her people happy Empathy through aura reading. Bc my baby totally has witchy vibes and is already the most empathetic person on Earth. Also she technically has emotions manipulation, but like, very very light. Massimo Bianchi & Marco Nenchi ship

FC: Rachel Zegler

Sylvie Badeau!

Jean's childhood friend aka comes from a rich french family; trauma walking baby (you'll want to murder her parents trust me); the sweetie of the group; no really with her the found family trope is so strong, they all would die for her (Jean can't die so he would kill for her lmao) Invisibility. Bc my girl needs a way to escape her shitty familiar life and that's the fastest way. Marco Nenchi ship

FC: Flavie Delangle

Filippo Monti!

Nicola Ravenna's best friend; highkey hates the others in his group but hangs with them bc it's "or you're one of the cool guys and an asshole oer you're bullied"; technically Nicola's age but failed one year so he's in class with all the others Clairevoyance. This is actually very tbd but I just know it fits okay. You have to trust me on this Andrea Ravenna ship

FC: Francesco Centorame

[6rookie-writer0110]

Hi could you write some Massimo from 365 days x sub bottom virgin male reader smut please with daddy , spit , and overstimulation kink please with massimo just rocking readers world and just also rough sex

He is so damn hot

[namelessalessandra]

First Meeting

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Sintesi: Durante una festa a Montecarlo, tua cugina ti presenta degli amici

Warnings: uso di alcohol, eccesso di velocità, Charles e Pierre

Allungo la mano fino al vassoio tenuto in bilico da un cameriere e afferro il primo drink che mi capita a tiro, se ho intenzione di sopravvivere a questa serata sicuramente non lo farò da sobria. Mi muovo per la folla guardandomi intorno alla ricerca di mia cugina che mi ha praticamente pregata di seguirla a questa festa di ricconi presuntuosi di Montecarlo, mi sento totalmente fuori luogo mentre sorseggio dal mio bicchiere con una finta aria sicura. Il vestito lungo, nero e aderente, di seta che ho deciso di indossare non mi aiuta a respirare meglio dato che il corsetto mi stringe la vita, e poi fa un caldo da morire.

-Oh, grazie al cielo ti ho trovata. Quando possiamo andare via?- domando avvicinandomi a lei, qualche ragazzo figlio di papà mi sbatte contro un braccio facendomi quasi rovesciare il drink e vorrei gridargli contro ma non conosco mezza parola di francese quindi mi contengo. Quando ho deciso di prendere l'aereo dall'Italia per arrivare a Montecarlo da mia cugina senza conoscere neanche una frase per presentarmi non mi sono preoccupata più di tanto. E non sarebbe stato un problema se avessi deciso di restare per un paio di giorni o una settimana, ma i tre mesi estivi si sono dimostrati un periodo molto lungo in un paese dove chiunque ti parli sembra che ti dia dello stupido in ogni situazione.

Mia cugina ride quando mi vede alzare gli occhi al cielo e mi circonda le spalle con un braccio

-vieni con me, ti presento dei miei amici. Sono arrivati questa mattina e staranno per qualche giorno- mi avvisa guidandomi verso il punto da cui l'ho vista apparire, come un angelo venuto a salvarmi.

-Ti ricordo che non so parlare francese, come pretendi che io comunichi coi tuoi amici se non so neanche presentarmi?- domando alzando un sopracciglio, la mia perfetta cugina accenna una risata che mi procura solo più confusione

-Eccoli! Ragazzi!- esclama alzando il braccio e muovendosi come una posseduta, seguo la direzione del suo sguardo con il viso totalmente in fiamme dall'imbarazzo dato che alcune persone intorno a noi si sono girate a guardarci, ma quando vedo i due ragazzi a cui si riferisce mia cugina il resto dei figli di papà intorno a noi scompaiono. Sento mia cugina dirmi "vieni con me" prima di tirarmi più velocemente e raggiungiamo i due.

-(Y/N), lui è Pierre- dice mia cugina indicando il primo dei due, ha gli occhi azzurri e le labbra carnose tirate in un sorriso malizioso circondato da una leggera barba incolta. Mi porge una mano che stringo velocemente

-piacere di conoscerti, (Y/N), tua cugina ci ha parlato molto di te, finalmente ti conosciamo- mi dice in un italiano perfetto, io boccheggio totalmente presa alla sprovvista.

-Lui, invece, è Charles- riprende mia cugina indicando l'altro ragazzo. I suoi occhi sono sempre chiari, ma di una sfumatura diversa da quella di Pierre, anche se a causa del sole che tramonta non riesco ad identificarla per bene. Le sue labbra sono meno carnose ma il suo sorriso è circondato da un paio di fossette molto tenere. Mi prende la mano e ne bacia il dorso senza mai staccare gli occhi dai miei, che ancora senza parole, mi limito ad arrossire come una stupida

-ci aveva detto che fossi bella, ma non così tanto- mi dice dopo aver lasciato andare la mia mano, mia cugina sbuffa una risata

-il solito casanova, Leclerc- la sento borbottare divertita, con la coda dell'occhio vedo Pierre circondarle i fianchi con un braccio prima di portarla verso la pista dove dei ragazzi hanno iniziato a ballare. Resto sola con Charles, che mi porge di nuovo la mano

-ti va di ballare? Queste feste non sono il massimo del divertimento, ma c'è alcol e cibo a volontà e ballare è una buona scusa per conoscerti- commenta facendomi ridere, accetto la sua proposta e in pochi attimi ci ritroviamo accanto a Pierre e mia cugina, a muoverci a tempo di un lento non particolarmente allettante. Totalmente l'opposto del ragazzo che mi stringe a sé, riesco a sentire i muscoli delle sue braccia toniche contro il busto e il suo profumo mi entra nelle narici e non so se è per l'alcol bevuto o per altri motivi, ma è così bello da farmi girare la testa.

-Allora, (Y/N), tua cugina ci ha detto che stai passando l'estate con lei, ma non sei di qui. Da dove vieni?- domanda Charles mentre ci muoviamo a tempo. A malincuore mi distraggo dal suo profumo buonissimo per cercare di dare una risposta sensata.

-Sono italiana. Mia madre e sua madre sono sorelle, entrambe italiane, poi però zia ha conosciuto un monegasco e si è trasferita mentre mia mamma è rimasta in Italia- rispondo scrollando le spalle. I nostri occhi si incontrano e il fiato mi si spezza. Sono io, o è il ragazzo più bello che abbia mai visto?

-E tu come fai a sapere così bene l'italiano?- domando di rimando, Charles alza le sopracciglia quasi sorpreso, ma dura un solo attimo perché poi torna a sorridermi

-lavoro con degli italiani e ho dovuto imparare per forza di cose- mi spiega e proprio quando sto per chiedergli che lavoro fa, la canzone finisce e mia cugina mi prende il polso esclamando qualcosa a proposito di stuzzichini. Il mio sguardo resta per un po' incatenato a quello di Charles mentre mi lascio trascinare verso il buffet, mi giro solo quando lo vedo venire verso di noi insieme a Pierre.

-Allora, cosa ne pensi?- chiede mia cugina prendendo una tartina ai gamberetti, io ne prendo una al salmone scrollando le spalle divertita

-i gamberetti non sono proprio il mio genere, sai che preferisco il salmone- scherzo facendole alzare gli occhi al cielo. Mi dà un leggero schiaffo sul braccio prima di sussurrare

-intendevo di Charles. Che ne pensi di Charles- specifica anche se sa che avevo capito. Vengo salvata in tempo dall'arrivo proprio del soggetto del discorso e del suo amico. Mia cugina porge una tartina a Pierre che afferra due flute di champagne. Charles ne porge una anche a me che accetto con piacere. Lo vedo prendere anche lui una tartina.

-Quindi è così che festeggiate voi?- domando ai tre, che mi guardano confusi. Io scrollo le spalle senza trattenere la mia espressione delusa -da voi così dediti al lusso mi aspettavo feste più divertenti. Insomma, ve ne andate in giro a bordo di Ferrari e Porche, fate il bagno ascoltando musica sui vostri enormi yacht e poi fate feste così noiose?- aggiungo, mia cugina ride divertita. Spesso ci prendiamo in giro sulle differenze di cultura che ci sono tra i nostri paesi.

-Dicci, allora, come festeggi tu, piccola ingrata italiana?- domanda Pierre senza trattenere un sorriso divertito, mia cugina mi guarda sgranando gli occhi e mi prega di non farlo scuotendo il capo. Io porgo la mano al biondo

-forza, dammele- dico divertita, al suo sguardo confuso riprendo: -le chiavi della tua Porche, o Ferrari o quello che è- faccio attenzione a muovere anche le dita della mano per evidenziare la mia attesa. Pierre lancia un'occhiata a mia cugina come a chiedere conferma di cosa stia accadendo. Lei sospira

-(Y/N), ti prego, non farlo. Non sai in cosa ti stai cacciando- il tono che usa è imbarazzato, io alzo le sopracciglia verso il biondo al suo fianco che ancora tentenna

-sai cosa? Ecco le chiavi della mia, vediamo di cosa sei capace- interviene Charles porgendomi le sue chiavi. Sorrido verso di lui, soddisfatta e lo ringrazio prima di muovermi verso il parcheggio seguita da loro. Premo il tasto alla ricerca dell'auto giusta. Una Ferrari grigio scuro opaca con una striscia rossa e una bianca sul cofano. Solitamente non sono brava a riconoscere le auto, ma lo stemma in bella vista mi ha dato l'indizio. Salgo dal lato del guidatore e mi giro verso il proprietario dopo aver messo la cintura di sicurezza.

-Allora, sali o no?- domando sorridendogli, mi sento piena di adrenalina e mia cugina lo capisce perché spinge Pierre verso l'auto accanto

-muoviti saliamo in macchina prima di perderla del tutto- gli dice a voce bassa. Charles prende posto al mio fianco e mette la cintura mentre io faccio accendere l'auto. Mi giro verso il guidatore accanto facendo attenzione a far rombare il motore.

-Il punto di incontro è la pizzeria sul lungomare. Credi di potermi battere?- domando non trattenendo il mio divertimento. Pierre assume uno sguardo come per dire "ma fai sul serio?" prima di partire entrambi. La distanza dalla terrazza della festa alla pizzeria non sarà più di dieci minuti, la macchina decappottabile di Charles fa svolazzare i miei capelli nel vento che si crea con la mia velocità e non riesco a non gridare dall'eccitazione. Pierre al nostro fianco sembra divertito tanto quanto me mentre ci sfidiamo a chi è più veloce. Charles al mio fianco ride incredulo mentre premo di più sull'acceleratore e porto una mano fuori dal finestrino per sentire l'aria scorrere. Pierre mi supera per un minuto, quando stiamo per arrivare, e lo lascio fare tranquilla. Charles mi intima a superarlo e gli lancio un'occhiata. Sorrido maliziosa e quando vedo il cartello della pizzeria premo di nuovo sull'acceleratore superando il suo amico per poi fermarmi proprio davanti all'entrata. Pierre ci affianca dopo un secondo e vedo mia cugina togliersi la cintura di sicurezza e venirmi incontro a grandi falcate.

-Prima di gridarmi contro, come la vuoi la pizza?- domando infilando la mano nella scollatura del mio vestito. Il lato positivo dell'indossare il reggiseno è che non sono costretta a portare la borsa perché posso infilare i soldi al suo interno. Mia cugina alza gli occhi al cielo prima di scrollare le spalle.

-Bene, faccio io. Ragazzi voi avete preferenze?- domando girandomi verso i due amici che mi osservano ancora sconvolti ma divertiti. Entrambi scuotono la testa e così entro nella pizzeria. Nel giro di qualche minuto salgo di nuovo in auto, e passo a Charles i cartoni e le birre.

-Hey Pierre, credi di poter tenere il mio passo? Stiamo per raggiungere la spiaggia libera alla fine del lungomare- alzo la voce per parlare al biondo che fa rombare l'auto in risposta. Così partiamo di nuovo, sfidandoci nei tre minuti di distanza che ci servono per raggiungere il punto designato. Ci fermiamo esattamente nello stesso momento, fortuna che non ci sono auto in giro perché c'è una festa in centro, così riusciamo a parcheggiare con calma e scendiamo dalle macchine.

-Dove hai imparato a guidare, piccola italiana?- domanda Pierre divertito, io scoppio a ridere scrollando le spalle

-se te lo dicessi dove sarebbe il divertimento?- domando prima di togliermi i tacchi perché abbiamo raggiunto la spiaggia. Mia cugina intreccia il suo braccio col mio lasciando che i due vadano d'avanti. Sta per arrivare la ramanzina.

-Adoro il tuo ego smisurato, cugina, e sembra proprio che ti abbia portato fortuna. Davvero non hai capito chi sono quei due?- domanda sgridandomi a voce bassa per non farci sentire, io scuoto il viso prima di guardarla curiosa.

-I tipici figli di papà che mi presentavi anche qualche anno fa quando venivo a trovarti?- domando incerta. Lei sospira alzando gli occhi al cielo, si colpisce la fronte con il palmo della mano.

-Charles Leclerc e Pierre Gasly sono due piloti della Formula 1- esclama sempre a voce bassa e il mio cuore perde un battito. Sgrano gli occhi boccheggiando come un pesce e lei annuisce. Scoppiamo entrambe a ridere perché questa è esattamente una delle cose che entrambe ci aspetteremmo da me, e raggiungiamo i due. Passiamo il resto della serata a mangiare la pizza e bere le nostre birre, parlando del più e del meno, fino a quando Pierre propone di buttarci a mare. Lui e mia cugina si sfilano subito i vestiti e vanno in acqua, lasciamo me e Charles da soli. Mi ricordo della notizia che mia cugina mi ha dato prima di sederci a mangiare e decido di dire qualcosa.

-Non lo avrei mai sfidato se avessi saputo che correte in macchina per lavoro. Non volevo sembrare una buffona o altro, credevo solo che foste i tipici figli di papà che mia cugina mi presentava da piccole- dico a voce bassa, imbarazzata. Charles, che si è appena tolto giacca e camicia, si gira a guardarmi. Il suo busto tonico mi distrae per un attimo mentre lo vedo avvicinarmisi.

-Non credo che l'ego di Pierre sia stato scalfito minimamente, anzi credo che si sia divertito- risponde per rassicurarmi, così io annuisco e gli do le spalle spostando i capelli dalla schiena fino alla spalla

-potresti slacciarmi il vestito?- domando e non devo ripetermi due volte perché un secondo dopo le sue dita mi sfiorano la schiena. Mia cugina grida, poi si sente rumore di acqua e la risata di Pierre.

-Hey voi due piccioncini, vi muovete? L'acqua è bellissima- grida verso di noi proprio lui mentre mia cugina riemerge e gli si getta sulle spalle. Mi giro verso Charles ringraziandolo

-ora sbrighiamoci, o Pierre ci viene a prendere per i capelli- scherza il castano facendomi ridere. Mi sfilo il vestito e lui i pantaloni e corriamo verso l'acqua, dove ci scontriamo in una guerra di schizzi tutti contro tutti.

[whatisonthemoon]

Let Pinochet go! Let Scientology go!

Let Pinochet go! Let Scientology go! By Miguel Martinez

Concerning an article published in Cristianità, the official magazine of Alleanza Cattolica. which includes CESNUR's director Massimo Introvigne among its leaders.

The January-February 1999 issue of Cristianità has just come out. To refresh the memory of our readers: this magazine is the official organ of Alleanza Cattolica, the right-wing organization one of whose five national leaders ("consultori") is Massimo Introvigne, and to which nearly all the members of CESNUR Italy also belong.

This issue has an article by Introvigne ("Reiki: technique or religion?") and an article in defence of Introvigne (against the Fraternity of Saint Pius X). The magazine claims no fewer than twenty-six activities of CESNUR as part of the "Good battle" ("La buona battaglia") of Alleanza Cattolica.

In other words, CESNUR and Cristianità are synonyms, at least for Cristianità. (CESNUR generally seems a little more embarrassed about the link.)

The "good battles" listed in the magazine include the presentation of Reverend James Gordon Melton's book on Scientology and even a lecture by Eileen Barker of the UK organization INFORM. The latter is under a special heading, "religious freedom", a title reminiscent of Introvigne's famous appeal in favour of Scientology in Germany.

However, this is not the only kind of freedom that interests Cristianità/CESNUR. Another victim of persecution, besides Scientology, receives special attention from Cristianità. This time it is Augusto Pinochet Ugarte, the expressionless Chilean former dictator.

First comes an article on Pinochet, explicitly titled "Let Pinochet go!", by American rightist Pat Buchanan. Then comes an article (four pages long) by a gentleman described as "Senator for life and General of the Reserve, Augusto Pinochet Ugarte". In this article we learn, for example, how Senator Pinochet is "…deeply convinced that those countries which are unable to discover the historical mission they are called on to perform, do not and never will have a future".

I wish to make it clear that I do not intend to dispute the right of Introvigne's organization to campaign for the release of the tough old general.

However, I think this campaign can help readers understand more clearly what CESNUR means by "freedom."

Originally posted here: http://www.kelebekler.com/cesnur/txt/pinogb.htm

[lonelygurl888]

Always and Forever                        

“Domenico, can you get the jet ready in an hour? We have some business in Palermo to take care of.”

“Yeah I can get it done, oh also (y/n) was looking for you. Said to see her in the room.”

Massimo gets up and heads to the bedroom, he knows she’s gonna be upset that he has to leave. Its the day before their anniversary and (y/n) had some things planned. They’ll be making three years together and just know it has been a LONG THREE YEARS but Massimo wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Babe, where are you?”

“In the closest.” 

Massimo walks in and embraces her. 

“I missed you, I woke up and you were gone.”

“I know I had a meeting to attend, and I also have another one…tonight… in Palermo.”

“Don Massimo Torricelli are you fucking kidding? Its the night before our anniversary, we have a tradition.”

“I know sweetheart but I have to go, you know how it is.

(y/n) family is also part of the Mafia, her father is a ally to the Torricelli family. Massimo’s dad- god rest his soul-  and her dad were very good friends. (y/n) spent vacations staying at the Torricelli home and vice versa, they both had a strong connection since they were kids but the older they got the more they were drawn to each other. 

“Why don’t you come with me? I’ll only be there for a few hours but it’ll be too late for me to come back… we could spend the weekend in Palermo and celebrate out there.”

“Idk babe, its too sudden.”

“Come on, you know you want to.” 

Massimo said that in the sexiest tone, (y/n) felt a flutter in her stomach. She knew he wasn’t asking, it was an order. Massimo always ended up getting his way when it came to with (y/n).

“Ok, I’ll go.” 

“Atta girl, pack a bag we leave in an hour.” 

He give (y/n) a passionate kiss then immediately pulled away, leaving her yearning for more. (y/n) had some things planned for their anniversary, but now she had to improvise. So she began to pack, pondering what she’s gonna do. 

Two hours later and they’ve arrived in Palermo. Massimo had to go to his meeting but he made sure to drop (y/n) off at the house first. She began to unpack and get the room ready for Massimo’s return. Her thoughts drifted back to their conversation on the airplane.

“Three years… to think we would end up together.” 

“I know. You know I remember you coming around a lot and I just had this feeling from a very young age that we were meant to be.Even my dad told me once that he believed we would end up together.”

“Yeah who knew you could be so romantic.”

Massimo laughed at her, pulled her in closer. Breathing her scent in. She smelt like fresh citrus with notes of lime, sea salt and coconut wood. (y/n) loved that Massimo was comfortable with her, he is a scary man. He has a short temper, very controlling, a little egotistical, and he rules with an iron fist. However with (y/n) he is the complete opposite, he is loving, tender, protects and respects (y/n) and her family, and lastly he is an amazing lover. That handsome tan man and his cock that was built by the devil himself drove (y/n) wild but she wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“You know Massimo I’m grateful that you’ve let me in, I know its hard for you but I just wanna say thank you and I love you for it.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. After my dad passed I was in a bad state and you helped me.” 

Massimo flips her over and gives her another passionate kiss only making (y/n) wetter then ever. 

“I can’t wait for tonight, you are driving me mad right now.”

“So I guess my plan is working, operation sex deprive my wife is working.”

(y/n) snapped out of her thoughts and continued to prepare the room. An hour later she was dressed in her new pink lingerie waiting for Massimo to return… She heard a car pull up... It’s showtime.

[hopelesslys-world]

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME | CH. 5

WARNINGS: NON-CON, Age Gap ( Massimo is 34 reader is 20 ), sex, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, oral (both female and male), yandere themes, stalking, KIDNAPPING, violence, harsh language, murder...

Tell me if I missed something... ( As you can see most of those warnings will make their appearance in future chapters. )

I apologize for any grammar mistakes...

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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏, 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 outside. You felt a slight depressed feeling approaching you, not to mention that you were starving like never before.

Right as your brain woke up, you felt someone’s hand lying heavy on your waist. Massimo was sleeping next to you, spooning you from behind leaving no space whatsoever, curled into a ball just like you with his arm around you securely.

Moments of yesterday's fight flashed before your eyes and disgust washed over you. What was he doing here? Being all cuddly and shit? If he won't apologise for his behaviour then you're in for a much terrible year.

You were afraid to move, to wake him, and you had to go to the bathroom. Slowly, you started to slip from under his arm, lifting it delicately. Massimo took a deep breath and turned over on his back. He was still asleep. You got up and headed to the bathroom tiptoeing.

After you were done with your business, you took your clothes off and went to the enormous shower. You turned the water on letting it soak you. Taking your loofah and using a generous amount of heavenly scented soap you began to scrub your body.

The door slammed open suddenly. It was the Man in Black. He was ogling me, not even trying to act cool.

A surprised scream left your mouth and hurried to cover up all your lady parts. "What the hell" you murmured to yourself

“Good morning, baby girl. May I join you?” he asked, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

At first first all you wanted was to rush at him, pummel him with your fists for what would have been the thousandth time, and throw him out. But your experience of yesterday's fight told you that it would comedown to nothing and only elicit an abrupt, violent, and unpleasant reaction.

Instead, you replied, “You wouldn't leave even if I told you to. So be my guest.”

Massimo stopped rubbing his eyes, frowned, and froze, dumbfounded. He must have thought he had misheard you. You had thrown him off balance.

Time to finally put Plan C into action I guess. You thought mischievously.

You couldn’t change the fact that he had just gone in behind you and seen you naked, no other man had seen you like this before. It was for a brief moment, though. Your hands hugged your breasts protectively while you crossed your legs tightly preventing anyone from seeing your bare womanhood.

Slowly, Massimo approached the expansive shower, grabbed the shirt from the back of his neck and tore it off with one fluid motion. You backed up against the shower's wall, surely but hesitantly you removed one of your hands and began scrubbing again. Keeping your eyes glued to the floor tiles not daring to meet his burning gaze.

Massimo entered the enormous cubicle and turned on the second shower head. There were four of those in total, not counting the gigantic water jet panel that looked like a bathroom radiator.

“We’re leaving today,” the Man in Black said impassively. “We’re going to be away for a couple of days. Maybe weeks. I don’t know yet. We’ll drop by some galas and parties, so take this into account while packing your things. Domenico will take care of everything. You just tell him what you need.”

In the end, your curiosity won. You turned his way and saw Massimo standing with his arms propped on the wall, letting the water flow freely down his naked body. The first man you saw naked in real life and not movies.

The view was overwhelming— toned leg, shapely buttocks, muscled belly were all testament to the enormous work he had to do to keep his body in such perfect shape. Your eyes stopped wandering not wanting to push your luck and create sly comments from him.

The soap disappeared from your body, you turned off the water and moved forward to leave the shower. Without warning Massimo grabbed your arm and you slammed softly to his chest with a gasp. You could feel his erect cock touching your lower back.

"I wanted to say sorry for yesterday, you made me so furious I wasn't able to control myself." He kissed your shoulder. You didn't move. "I want to be gentle with you Y/N, but I don't know how...will you teach me how to be gentle?" His lips started to trail toward your neck and his large hands roamed your waist.

You nodded. Your body was rebelling against you, where did that even come from? He was so mean to you and now you wanted to fuck him?

What the hell!?

"I have to get ready." You said desperately wanting to get out of there.

He let you go with no complaints and you rushed out. You grabbed a bathrobe on your way and threw it over myself, running through the door.

You shut yourself in the ginormous closet until you heard him leave. You sat at a bench scolding your subconscious that wanted you to sleep with him. How did that thought even crossed your mind, it was sick! You didn't know what time it was or how long you stayed in there.

Suddenly, you heard someone knock on the room's door, unwillingly you gathered your wits and left the closet to go and answer the door.

It was no other than Domenico, "Hi." You greeted. You moved aside to let him in, he was holding two gigantic Louis Vuitton travel bags.

The young Italian smiled. “Hey, you are leaving in an hour, so I thought you could use some help, miss. Unless you don’t want me to…”

“Stop calling me miss. I can’t stand it. Besides, you can't be that older, so let’s skip the formalities.”

Domenico smiled and nodded, signaling his consent. “Can you tell me where we’re going?” you asked.

“To Napoli, Rome, and Venice,” he replied. “And then the Côte d’Azur.”

You opened your eyes wider, surprised. You had never been to all those places. You haven’t seen so many places in your whole life!

“Do you know what we’re to do in each of those places?” you asked. “I’d like to know what to take with me.”

Domenico walked over to the closet. “I do, in fact, but I was told not to spoil it for you. Don Massimo will make everything clear in time. I’ll help you pick the right outfits, don’t worry.” He winked at you. “Fashion is something of a hobby to me.”

“I’ll trust you fully if that’s the case. If we only have an hour to prepare, let’s get to it, shall we?”

Domenico nodded and disappeared in the cavernous closet.

"Domenico," you said. He quickly spun around to meet your face. "Could you by any chance bring me something to eat? I'm starving to death here..."

"Consider it done." He then speed dial someone on the phone and arranged you a meal in Italian.

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Fifty minutes later, you were standing in front of the mirror, packing your cosmetics into one of the leather bags. You'd tied your hair neatly with a hair clip, Domenico picked a red maxi skirt and a white top, along with white heels and jewellery that complemented the outfit perfectly.

“Your things are packed,” Domenico said, passing you your bag.

“I’d like to see Massimo now, please.”

“He hasn’t finished his meeting yet, but—”

“Well it's about time he does, ” you interrupted disdainfully, leaving the room.

The library was one of those rooms whose location you had committed to memory. You headed down the corridor, and the patter of your hills reverberated from the stone floor. As you reached the right door, you took a deep breath and pulled on the handle. You went inside and felt a shiver running down your spine. You hadn’t been here since your first conversation with the Man in Black, only a while after waking up from your deep sleep.

Massimo was sitting on the couch. He wore a light linen suit and an unbuttoned shirt. Next to him sat a man with graying hair—very handsome and a lot older than Massimo. A typical Italian, you thought. Longish hair combed back and a well-groomed goatee. Seeing you, both of them jumped to their feet.

The first look you got from Massimo was ice-cold. As if he wanted to scold you for interrupting his meeting. But as soon as his eyes swept your entire silhouette, his stare seemed to grow less severe. He said something to the other man, keeping his eyes on you, and started walking your way. He approached you and leaned over, kissing you on the cheek.

“You look lovely,” he whispered, planting the kiss. He took your hand in his and led you to his friend.

“Y/N, meet Mario—my right hand.” you walked over to the man to offer him a hand, but he swooped in, grabbed you by the shoulders, and kissed you on both cheeks. You still hadn’t grown used to that. Where you come from, you only kiss your closest friends and relatives.

“Consigliere,” you said with a smile.

“Just Mario is all right.” The older man returned your smile. “It is good to finally see you in the flesh. Alive.”

Those words rooted you to the spot. What did he mean, “alive”? Had he assumed you wouldn’t live to see him? Your face must have shown some of your emotions, as Mario quickly explained, “There are paintings of you all over the mansion. They’ve been there for years now, but nobody ever believed you were real. You must be as astounded as we are.”

You could only nod.

“I won’t lie: this whole situation is a bit surreal and daunting. But we all know I have no power over don Massimo, so I humbly accept each and every one of the three hundred and sixty-five days he has given me.” Irony was your new best friend now, you rolled your eyes.

Massimo burst out laughing. “Humbly…” he repeated, turning to his companion, who immediately joined in the merriment.

“I’m happy I could improve your mood. Now, I’ll wait in the car so you can enjoy my absence,” you hissed, sending them both an ironic smirk. As I turned you back on them and headed to the door, you heard Mario say, trying to hold back the laughter, “Indeed, Massimo, it’s just as if she was Italian.”

You ignored that and shut the door behind you. You stopped before you exited the house and went out to the driveway. The image of the dead man lying on the paving stones flashed before your eyes. You swallowed, took a furtive look around, and headed in the direction of the SUV parked outside. The driver opened the door for you and gave you a hand as you stepped inside.

Your iPhone was lying on the back seat, right next to your laptop. You squealed with glee, seeing both devices. You turned the phone on only to find out that your password was changed.

You tried and tried again until you were made to stop by the phone's security.

That fucking bastard!

In that moment, the car door opened, and Massimo deftly slipped inside. He took a look at your hand. The iPhone was still in it. "Why did you change my password?" You asked your vision going red. That also means that he scrolled through it as well!

“I don't trust you that much, just yet. You will only talk with your relatives under my supervision.” he replied casually. He pressed the button and then the black glass separated us from the driver.

“The last stop of our trip will be Warsaw. It won’t be as soon as you’d like, but calling your parents more often from now on should assuage her concerns and give us more time, so you can call them whenever you want- while I'm with you.”

That was good news. “Thanks I guess...” You turned your head away looking at the window.

Massimo kept his eyes on you for a moment longer. Then he lay his head on the headrest and sighed. “I’m not so bad. I don’t want to keep you here against your will. I don’t want to threaten you. But, tell me: would you stay of your own will?” He fixed you with a searching stare.

You turned away. Would you stay? Of course not. Without second thoughts.

The Man in Black was still waiting for a reply, but didn’t get one, so he turned to his iPhone, scrolling and reading something on the Internet.

The silence was unbearable. You needed someone to talk to. Maybe it was because of your longing for home. Still looking through the window, you asked, “Where are we going now?”

“The airport in Catania. If the traffic is light, we should be there in less than an hour.”

Another good thing, you enjoyed flying a lot.

Massimo reached into the glove compartment and took out a black paper bag. “I have something for you,” he said, handing me the package.

You frowned and sent him a questioning look.

The elegant gold lettering on its front formed the words “Patek Philippe.” youknew that name. There could only be one thing inside. You also knew how expensive those watches were. “Massimo… I…” your eyes wandered back to him. “I can’t accept that.”

He laughed out loud, sliding on his aviators. “Baby girl, this is one of the cheaper gifts I’m going to give you. Besides, don’t forget you don’t get to decide for another few hundred days. Open it.”

You knew this was going nowhere—arguing with him never did. It could only lead to misery for you, especially since there was nowhere to run now. You pulled a black box from the bag and opened it. The watch was marvelous—pink gold encrusted with little diamonds. Simply perfect.

“You have been pretty isolated today. I had to reward you. I know I’ve taken much from you, but you’ll start getting it all back now,” Massimo said, fastening the watch on your wrist.

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[ series masterlist ]

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