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ador3sturniolo · 1 month ago

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Jealous

An - Oh my gosh this man is so fine!! I know he’s not a sturniolo triplet but i just can’t get over him so i wanted to write something for him. Enjoy my loves! Also this is my first time writing smut so sorry if it’s bad 🫣

MDI 18+

Paring - Massimo X FemReader

Summary - Massimo gets jealous

Warnings - Smut, Tension??

Requested - No

It was a quiet evening in the city, the kind where the world felt like it was moving in slow motion, wrapped in the comfort of soft lights and murmured voices. The venue was upscale, a modern restaurant tucked away on the outskirts of town, frequented by those who sought luxury and privacy.

You were seated at a table near the back, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses fading into the background as you sipped on your drink. The man across from you was charming, well-dressed, and made a point of keeping you engaged with interesting stories and laughter. You’d met him earlier in the evening at the bar, where the conversation had been light and easy, and you had enjoyed the company. But there was something about him that felt fleeting, like a momentary distraction, not something that could hold your attention for long.

Still, you couldn’t deny the conversation was pleasant, and as he leaned in a little closer, his voice lowered with a flirty undertone, you felt a tug of curiosity. His proximity was too intimate, the air between you too thick, but before you could take another sip of your drink, a sudden, sharp voice broke through.

“Is everything alright here?”

You turned in surprise. Standing at the edge of your table, his frame towering above, was Massimo. His eyes locked onto yours, a mix of curiosity and something else flickering beneath the surface—something darker. A storm was brewing behind his calm expression.

You felt your pulse spike at the sight of him. Massimo. The man who always seemed to command a room without even trying. His presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore.

The man across from you stood up politely, offering Massimo a handshake, though there was a noticeable tension in the air as they exchanged looks. “Everything’s fine,” you said quickly, hoping to diffuse whatever tension had already begun to brew. But Massimo didn’t take his eyes off you—not even for a second.

“I see,” Massimo replied, his voice low, a hint of coldness in it that hadn’t been there before. “I didn’t realize you had company tonight.”

You couldn’t tell if it was the sharpness of his tone or the subtle flicker of something possessive in his eyes, but something shifted. The man across from you noticed it too, his smile faltering as he glanced back and forth between the two of you.

“Actually, I should be going,” the man said, his voice faltering slightly. “It was nice meeting you.” He gave you a polite nod, his eyes lingering just long enough to register the tension in the air before quickly walking away.

You watched him go, a feeling of unease creeping into your chest. You had been enjoying the evening, but now, under Massimo’s gaze, you felt like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn’t sit down immediately, instead hovering next to your table, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw clenched tightly. The air between you two was thick with unspoken words.

“I didn’t expect to see you with him,” Massimo said, his voice so controlled it barely masked the tension. “I thought you and I had an understanding.”

You blinked, not sure if you were hearing him correctly. “Massimo, it’s nothing,” you began, trying to explain, but his expression didn’t soften. If anything, it became even more intense.

“It’s not nothing,” he muttered, his gaze narrowing, focusing on the empty seat where your date had just been. “You were laughing with him. Leaning in close.” His jaw tightened as he stepped closer to you, the space between you shrinking. “You never laugh with me like that.”

You felt your heart race, a mix of excitement and something else—something raw and unspoken—beginning to take hold. He was jealous. Massimo Torricelli, the man who always seemed so in control, was visibly upset by the thought of you with someone else. It was both thrilling and intimidating.

“Massimo, I was just talking,” you said softly, hoping to ease his mind, but the look in his eyes told you that wasn’t enough.

“Talking?” he repeated, his voice lowering. “I don’t think you understand. You’re mine, cara,” he said, his words deliberate, like a warning wrapped in something more dangerous. “And I don’t share what’s mine.”

A small chill ran down your spine at the possessiveness in his tone. His eyes darkened as they focused on yours, and you felt an undeniable pull—like a magnetic force drawing you toward him.

“I don’t want you talking to him,” Massimo added, his voice quiet but full of command. “I don’t want anyone else thinking they can have you, not like that.”

You swallowed, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “You’re being unreasonable,” you said, though there was a hint of challenge in your voice, knowing it would only make him more determined.

Massimo’s lips quirked into a small, dangerous smile. “Maybe,” he said softly, leaning in closer. His breath was warm against your ear as he added, “But I don’t like seeing what’s mine slipping away.”

Before you could respond, he was standing in front of you, his large hand cupping your chin gently, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making your pulse spike. “You’ll have to make it up to me, cara,” he murmured, his voice suddenly quiet, almost possessive in a way that made your heart race.

His words felt like a promise, a quiet but undeniable claim over you. Your mind was spinning, torn between the electric tension in the air and your desire to test the boundaries of his jealousy. And as his thumb brushed over your lip again, you felt your resistance begin to crumble.

Massimo’s jealousy was no longer just a reaction—it was a desire. One that would burn between the two of you for as long as you allowed it to. And tonight, it seemed you weren’t going to stop it.

With one final look, Massimo leaned down, pressing his lips against your ear, his voice hushed but full of intent: “Come with me.”

Massimo drove you back to his apartment, rushing inside and locking the door

As the door to Massimo's apartment closed behind you, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The hustle and bustle of the city outside faded away, leaving only the intoxicating energy between you two. Massimo's gaze locked onto yours, filled with a mix of desire and protectiveness that sent a thrill through your body.

He approached you slowly, each step deliberate, as if savoring the moment. When he reached you, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. The warmth of his palms ignited a fire within you, and you could see the raw hunger in his eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his voice low and filled with urgency.

You nodded, your heart racing as you took a step closer, feeling the heat radiating from him. “I want you, Massimo. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

With a growl of desire, he crushed his lips against yours, the kiss deep and possessive. His hands found your waist, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing your lips before exploring the depths of your mouth. You melted against him, feeling his strong body press against yours, every touch igniting a wave of sensation.

Massimo’s kiss consumed you—demanding and intense, leaving no room for thought. The moment his lips met yours, everything else faded. The world outside the study ceased to exist. It was just him and you. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his grip tightening as if he were afraid you might slip away. You had never felt anything like this before—his possessiveness, his need for control, all wrapped in a kiss that made your head spin.

You let out a soft gasp when his lips left yours, only to feel his breath on your skin as his mouth moved to your neck. He kissed you there—slow, deliberate, each press of his lips a claim, each touch sending heat rushing through you. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the solid strength of his body against yours. The tension between you both was palpable, thick and electric.

Massimo’s lips finally parted from your skin, but his gaze never left yours. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, an unreadable emotion swirling within them. “You’re mine,” he murmured, voice husky with a mix of desire and dominance. “I don’t share, cara. Not with anyone. Not ever.”

His words echoed in the room, the weight of them sinking into your chest. Part of you felt the heat of excitement at his possessiveness, the way he staked his claim on you so boldly. But another part of you felt a rush of adrenaline, like you were walking a fine line between pleasure and danger.

“Massimo…” you breathed, your voice trembling. You weren’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation. “You don’t need to be jealous.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t I?” His hand moved to your waist again, his fingers pressing against the fabric of your dress, pushing it up just slightly. The move was casual, yet the intent was clear—he wanted you, wanted to feel you beneath him. “I don’t like seeing you with another man,” he said, voice dropping to a dangerous level. “It doesn’t sit right with me.”

The words sent a flutter of heat to your core, and despite yourself, you felt your body respond to him. He was so sure of himself, so completely in control. There was no question in his mind about what he wanted, and right now, what he wanted was you.

He took a step back, his eyes never leaving you as if he were studying your every move. “Take off your dress.”

The command hit you like a shock, and for a moment, your mind raced, questioning what you were about to do. But there was no time for hesitation—Massimo was not a man who waited for permission. He had a way of making things happen, and in that moment, you realized that you were going to let him.

Your fingers trembled as you reached behind you to unzip the dress, the fabric sliding off your shoulders and pooling at your feet. The air was cool against your exposed skin, but the heat between you and Massimo was enough to burn. You looked up at him, his eyes dark with desire, and the way he stared at you made your breath catch in your throat.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but still full of raw, possessive heat. He stepped forward again, his hands skimming your sides, tracing the curve of your waist, before moving up to cup your breasts, his touch almost reverent. “I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want you right now.”

You gasped at the intensity of his touch, your body arching into his hands, instinctively seeking more. Massimo’s lips met yours again, but this time, it was different. It was slower, more deliberate. He kissed you like he was savoring you, taking his time, feeling you, exploring every inch of your mouth as though it was a treasure he had found.

As the kiss deepened, his hands wandered lower, slipping under the waistband of your panties. The touch was gentle at first, almost teasing, but when he felt you shiver beneath him, he became more insistent.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and inviting.

You met his gaze, desire swirling within you. “I want you, Massimo. I want all of you.”

With that, he captured your lips again, his hands working swiftly to remove the last barriers between you.

Massimo took his time, trailing kisses down your body, worshiping every inch of you as he moved lower. You could feel his lips teasing along your thighs, sending shivers of anticipation through you. The sensation was intoxicating, and you could hardly contain your moans as he explored you with a fervor that made your head spin.

When his mouth finally found you, it was overwhelming. He moved with an expert touch, eliciting gasps and moans as he worked you closer to the edge. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck ignited a fire deep within you, and you felt yourself spiraling into pleasure.

“Massimo,” you cried out, your hands tangling in his hair as you pushed your hips against him, craving more.

He looked up at you, the intensity in his eyes only fueling your desire. “That’s it, baby. Let go,” he urged, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

With each passing moment, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. And when you finally let go, it was like a wave crashing over you, pulling you under in a tide of ecstasy.

Massimo didn’t stop; he continued to tease and coax you through your release, prolonging the pleasure until you were breathless and trembling beneath him.

Once you came down from your high, he moved back up your body, his lips finding yours once more. The kiss was deep and filled with the promise of more. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and you knew he was just as affected by the intimacy you shared.

“Now it’s my turn,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he positioned himself above you.

With a mix of eagerness and urgency, he entered you, filling you completely. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as he moved slowly at first, savoring every moment.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groaned, his voice low and filled with need.

You wrapped your legs around him, urging him to go deeper, to lose himself in the moment. The rhythm between you built, each thrust sending you higher, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you, lost in the heat of passion.

As the intensity grew, so did the connection between you. With each movement, you felt your bodies melting together, the intimacy binding you in ways you never thought possible. The sounds of the city outside were drowned out by the symphony of your breaths, the whispers of your names, and the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

Finally, as the waves of pleasure washed over you both, you reached your peak together, a crescendo of ecstasy that left you breathless and entwined, hearts racing in unison.

In the aftermath, you lay wrapped in each other's arms, the intimacy of the moment lingering in the air. You could feel the warmth of Massimo's body against yours, the steady beat of his heart a comforting reminder of the bond you had forged.

“Always,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

And in that moment, everything felt right.

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AN- Hey! I wanted to try a new style of writing for this one so that what i did! I hope you guys like it!!! ☺️

#fanfic #365 #love 365 #massimo #massimo torricelli #smut #tension #jealousy #massimo x reader

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thebadboyfanclub · 2 years ago

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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”

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0-animelover-0 · 2 years ago

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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.

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massimosundayfanpage · 4 months ago

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

#massimo #blade34 #polskagórom #andrzej na prezydenta #hsr x reader #sunday hsr

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yandere-romanticaa · 1 month ago

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Probably one of my least favorite things I have ever given birth to. I still can't fathom the fact this piece of crap actually has over 100 notes, let alone MORE.

Is this how people feel whenever they look at dark fiction romance??

𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭?

❝ Ladies, imagine your worst nightmare, like getting kidnapped, having a boyfriend that controls everything about your life and stares at you as you sleep every night, or dating a guy who watches the Fast and the Furious movies unionically, whatever. Now imagine if all of that stuff happened to you - but the guy was attractive?! ❞ - Alex Meyers, "365 days is the worst movie I've ever seen...", June 23rd, 2020.

❤️ NOTE: 365 Days is probably the worst movie I have ever seen in my whole entire life. That's why I set up the challenge of trying to make Massimo into... something, I honestly don't know what. Did I succeed? I don't know, you be the judge of that! It was also very hard trying to keep a straight face while writing this! I actually feel like punching myself for even bringing this into the world...

yandere! massimo torricelli x fem! reader.

The firm grip of his hand on your waist was a reminder of where exactly you stood in this relationship, if you even stood at all.

Massimo Torricelli was a man who was accustomed to the finer things in life and would accept nothing that he deemed to be beneath him. Be it food, clothing, women, his own men that worked for him, he would never lay a finger on anything lest it caught it his attention or he thought it was useful in one way or the other.

You often wondered what he saw in you to begin with.

The chatter of voices and the clinking of champagne glasses brought you back down to Earth as you remembered where you were. The scent of lit vanilla candles cradled your senses as the gorgeously dressed men and women paraded themselves around the ballroom, each person looking more ravishing than the next and all eager to prove their wealth and status to each other.

Pathetic, you thought to yourself.

It was unparalleled of how they all left themselves open, all of their fears and insecurities left on full display as they tried to hide themselves between fake grins, wretched laughs and intoxicating alcohol and other such substances.

The man who accompanied you tonight could not have been more different than the goons and fools that were tailing you like shadows.

Massimo Torricelli hardly had any time for himself let alone a crumb to spare for anyone that failed to exceed his skyhigh expectations. The man was the personification of every single Gucci suit, the scent of dark cologne and the lingering feeling of the burning end of a cigarette bud that was put out on soft flesh.

He always made sure to leave a mark wherever he went.

That included you as well.

To the other party goers you were Massimo's little treasure, the apple of his eye - someone who they could hopefully use against him, either by blackmail or wooing you themselves so that you could put in a good word for them.

The thought made you laugh. Your opinion was irrelevant, no matter how much Massimo claimed for the opposite to be true.

You were trapped in chains upon chains of riches and dirty secrets that no one would ever uncover.

Massimo would make sure of it.

#365 days #365 dni #massimo torricelli #354 days x reader #yandere #yancore #yandere x reader #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere imagines #yandere x you #massimo torricelli x reader #yandere massimo torricelli x reader #yandere male

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bygiornogiovanna · 2 years ago

Note

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?

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hopelesslys-world · 1 year ago

Text

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.

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[ 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

#massimo torricelli fanfic #massimo torricelli #massimo #massimo torricelli x reader #massimo torricelli smut #massimo torricelli x y/n #massimo torricelli series #smut #365 days #michele morrone

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famouscrusadeluminary · 2 months ago

Text

This made me feel every emotion on earth

Tag You’re It- Massimo x Reader (Epilogue)

Pairing(s): Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Warning(s): None, tears from your author

A/N: Thank you sooooo so much to everyone who has read this series. I love you all immensely. Song is ‘’Hard for Me’’ by Michele Morrone. I hope every one has a very happy safe new year, thank you for sticking with me throughout this journey.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX PART SEVEN PART EIGHT PART NINE PART TEN

You keep telling me that I am free to go But I’m addicted to you It’s a lie It’s a lie

‘’No, absolutely not.’’

‘’And why not?’’

Keep reading

#massimo torricelli #massimo torricelli x reader #365 days #365 days fic #michele morrone #mafia romance #smut #violence #happy ever after

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bohemian-nights · 1 year ago

Note

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”🤷🏽‍♀️

#bnasks #bnask #the state of daemons fandom #this is more than you asked for #sorry 😭#daemon targaryen

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streets-in-paradise · 3 months ago

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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.

#i didn't read just a fic i felt like i was reading an alternative novelization #or the romantic part in a chapter of a valerio massimo manfredi - like historical novel take on the gladiator movie #gladiator 2000 #maximus decimus meridius #maximus x reader #Spotify

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ginevrastilinski-ocs · 1 year ago

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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

#answered #oc related ask #plot bunny game #elia amato #michelangelo amato #ambra mariano #genevieve liberati #melissa perez #sylvie badeau #filippo monti #greta's ocs madness era #randomestfandoms

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6rookie-writer0110 · 1 year ago

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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

#requested

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namelessalessandra · 2 years ago

Text

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.

#tumblr #charles lecrelc #pierre gasly #immagina #y/n #formula 1

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