#Italian moped

[whereskatieandgrady]

Naples Pt 2

If I had to describe Napoli in one word, it would be energy. Not energetic, but energy itself. There's vitality, there's vigor, there's liveliness filling the streets of Naples, all with some grit but it adds to the spirit of the city.

[vintage-tigre]

[308ferrari]

[changetyre]

Our Special Number II LN4 Ⓢ Ⓦ

Request: Dom Lando Norris (not toxic, just demanding and respectful, a real gentleman) with sub Italian reader, a very long, hot spanking punishment for the reader because of her rebel/bad attitude in their previous fight/discussion (jealous Lando), a lot of dirty talk and teasing, "Yes, Sir", "Please, Sir" "Who do you belong to, princess?" "I am yours, Sir" "Good girl, a very good girl", begging, fingering, eating out (female receiving), overstimulating, pleasing, bend over the kitchen table rough sex, wrists tied using the belt. After sex soft/gentle Lando.

Warnings: ***Smut 18+*** A/N: Not proofread

___________________

It all started with a ridiculous stupid fight. Lando was stressed from all the pressure of the season, trying to get good results, better results than he was now getting annoyed at the fact that his teammate was almost doing better than him after only a few months in the car.

He'd taken it out on you, short-fused as he already was he had come home to an empty house, you had been out with some friends for breakfast and lost track of time, and trying to drive home during traffic you got home later than you intended.

You got home and Lando was in a pissy mood not even saying hello to you or looking at you when you approached him at the kitchen counter where he was having some food he'd ordered despite the fact you'd left him some food in the fridge.

"Lando?" You called your boyfriend who was acting like a child.

He dropped his fork annoyed. "What?" He finally looked up at you his expression bare.

"Can you please stop being rude and talk to me I said I was sorry I didn't mean to get home this late." You tried to be patient with him since you were aware his anxiety and stress got the best of him at times and he found it hard to control his moods when this happened.

"I don't want to talk." He replied in a monotone voice as he picked up his fork and food and went to lock himself in his sim room.

You huffed deciding to give him space as you cleaned up the kitchen and tried to distract yourself from the anger that wanted to creep in from the fact that your boyfriend hadn't even touched you after 2 weeks away.

You were putting away the dishes when your phone buzzed. You picked it up and saw a text from Max.

Max V: I tried texting Lando but he's not answering

Max V: Kelly, Martin, me and a few others are going out to the club tonight wanna come?

You: He's in a mood

You: But I'll be there

You didn't hesitate to reply as you knew either Lando would snap out of his mood and join you at the club or you could piss him off as he stayed to mope while you were at the club and he'd snap out of it after, it was a win-win in your eyes.

You walked to your bedroom to get ready, getting into your more skimpy attire hoping this would be enough to at least get your boyfriend's attention.

"Where are you going?" You tried to hide your smirk at hearing your boyfriend's surprised tone at the bedroom door.

"Out with Max, Martin, Kelly, and some others." You replied not bothering to turn to face him as you continued putting on your heels on the living room couch.

"You can't go, not wearing that if I'm not going. Why didn't you tell me?" He started approaching you but you got up and walked to the kitchen where your purse waited for you on the counter.

"Hmm, I thought you didn't want to talk." You shrugged still not turning to face him.

"You're not going baby." His tone was more demanding this time sending shivers down your spine.

You finally got up grabbed your purse and turned to face him. "I am, and I'm sure Martin will take care of me." You teased knowing this would hit a nerve as before you started dating Lando Martin had tried asking you out.

Your breath hitched as Lando wrapped a hand around the curve of your back pressing you against him while with his other hand, he began sliding his palm up your body until he wrapped it around your throat putting slight pressure.

"You want my attention, hm?" He whispered in your ear as he licked a stripe from your neck up to your ear before biting your lobe softly.

Your breath shuddered. And this was enough to get you weak in his arms, always willing to submit under his control. "Yes." Your voice was shaky.

"Yes, what baby?" He aggressively kissed your neck knowing he was leaving marks and his other hand squeezed your ass hard and his fingers explored the slit between your cheeks.

"Yes Sir." You dropped your purse as your hands came to hold onto him. Any plans you had of going out and getting back at him were clearly out the window now as you felt the warmth pool between your legs.

"Good girl." He whispered now his mouth finding yours as he kissed you slopily, dominantly shoving his tongue in your mouth. He cupped your cheeks getting you to open your mouth before spitting and getting you to swallow.

"Please, Sir." You begged Lando to touch you, to do anything to relieve some of the painful aches that had enveloped your body.

"Look at my pretty girl begging after she tried to get back at me." He picked you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist before he placed you on the kitchen counter. Your body filled with goosebumps at feeling the cold contrast on the bare skin of your ass. "Who do you belong to Princess, huh?" He settled between your legs.

"Lando please." You begged weakly again as he began kissing your chest, pulling the fabric aside you could feel his breath on your hard nipple.

"Answer me" He pulled away teasing you.

"You. I'm yours, Sir." You could almost cry from the desperation in your body.

"mhmm." Lando moaned happily with your answer as he finally licked your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue over it.

You sighed finding a small ounce of relief from this but it didn't last long. You felt Lando grab your hands which were tangled in his curls and pulled them behind your back.

You didn't know when or how but he had removed his belt and he was now using it to tie your wrists behind your back. "I need to teach you a lesson, my sweet girl." he smiled as he noticed your surprised face.

Once your wrists were secured, Lando picked you up again getting you off the counter before turning you around and bending you over. You could feel the warm spot where you previously sat on your nipples.

"What a beautiful dress baby...just for me." He stroked your ass over top of the small fabric that covered it.

"Just for me right baby?" He asked his tone serious once more.

You felt a warm sting on your ass as Lando's hand had struck down on it.

"Yes Sir, just for you." Your breath was shaky.

"That's right pretty girl just for me." He slapped your ass again making you jump on his lap.

He moved the fabric aside, your ass in clear view only a small piece of lingerie between him and what he really wanted now. He smiled at the wetness he could see seep through the string.

"Can Martin make you this wet? huh?" you moaned at feeling Lando's fingers press against your core roughly and hearing his jealous tone.

"No Sir, only you." You cried, you needed him so desperately.

Another slap.

"Count them out for me baby." He instructed you before landing another slap to your ass.

"1." You whimpered feeling the sting at ease.

Smack.

"2." It felt so painfully good.

And another.

"3." It was almost over which you were glad about but you also never wanted this to end.

"Our special number baby." Slap. Lando said as he smacked your cheeks.

"4." You sighed in satisfaction at the last slap.

"Good Girl, very good girl." he didn't hesitate to pull the tiny fabric aside and didn't give you a warning before he pushed his fingers inside of you.

Lando's hand stayed firm on your back while he fingered you keeping you in place as you squirmed under his touch, he curled, twisted, and turned his fingers in any direction he desired.

He didn't have to finger you for long before you'd reached your first orgasm squirting over his fingers.

"How gorgeous," he smirked pleased with the results licking his fingers clean before finally allowing you to turn around picking you up and getting you up on the counter again.

In one swift move, Lando untied the belt releasing your hands before pushing you as you now laid back onto the counter.

It happened so fast you could only scream in pleasure as Lando's mouth now attacked your pussy. He shoved his tongue in your pussy showing no mercy as he tried to get you to reach your second orgasm in record time.

Your legs were shaking and your fingers came to grip Lando's curls once more as you screamed in pleasure, your body was on fire and you were so close but it felt like so much you both pushed and pulled Lando's head away and towards you.

And it only took a few seconds before you were cumming on Lando's tongue again.

He pulled away and you saw the wetness around his mouth which he didn't bother to wipe before he was stripping his pants off.

"Please..." You cried but you weren't sure what you were begging for, you wanted more but it didn't seem physically possible as you'd turned to putty on the kitchen counter, your limbs feeling heavier than they ever had.

"Our special number baby," Lando smirked as he hooked his arms under your legs pulling your legs right at the edge of the counter before entering you quickly and roughly.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you almost choked on your own spit as Lando began to pound into you mercilessly, you cried in pleasure feeling Lando's length spread you open and hearing his hips slap your ass in quick succession.

"Augh please....please." You cried gripping his wrist tightly but again you had no idea what you were begging for.

Lando loved the way you looked so fucked out, overstimulated, your mascara running, your tits bouncing with every thrust. He'd never fucked you out like this but in addition to the stress the thought of having you walk around showing so much of your skin that was only meant for him had driven him crazy and he was taking it out on you.

Your mind was in a daze and you had no idea how long he'd fucked you for before you had squirted around his cock but he didn't stop there.

"Lan pleasee....I can't-" You whimpered trying to push his hands away but your limbs were so weak it was futile.

Just like the beginning, it was painfully good, something you'd never felt before just feeling like you couldn't carry on but knowing you needed to come undone again.

"Just one more baby, one more." Lando sighed as he kept fucking into you chasing his own high.

He was close and he wanted you to cum with him as he began flicking your clit with his hand.

You squirmed on the counter shaking and shuddering under his touch and it felt like an explosion in your body once you'd reached your high once more.

Your skin felt extremely sensitive as you could feel Lando spilling into you. He pulled out with made your pussy twitch around his dick almost as if clawing at it to stay inside.

"Well done baby," Lando whispered as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

He disappeared for a few seconds before he was back beside you wiping you clean with a clean and fresh kitchen towel which you knew you'd have to replace later.

He helped you sit up letting your weight fall onto him as he lifted up a glass of water to your lips. You finished it in only a few gulps.

"Thank you." You whispered hugging Lando and tucking your head into his neck.

"I'm sorry if I was too rough baby. I love you." Lando kissed your cheek.

"I love you too...and It's okay, I liked it." You giggled. "But I don't think I'll be able to walk for a few hours.

It was Lando's turn to giggle this time. "Let me take care of you, baby." Lando picked you up, and you wrapped your legs around him once more as he walked you both to the shower placing soft kisses on your cheek and hair throughout.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Lego still not sponsoring me (dark!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is a nerd who needs to get sprayed with water for being a fucking creep. You're an adorable cashier at the Lego Store in Berlin who doesn't know any better and is too nice to lose. He will have you. Mostly because he wants someone to do his Lego sets with.

Details count: 2922 AO3 TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig.

You didn’t want to build Millenium Falcon with him. 

You didn’t want to shower or eat, you didn’t want to do anything besides crying, and even though your tears, as he expected, were beautiful and adorable, it was kinda hard for König to take care of your mental and physical needs while he was rock hard from watching you cry so sweetly. 

König is patient, kind, and a model citizen through and through. Why are you upset? He is doing everything he can, just to make you smile! Seriously, Schatzi, the desire to make him as miserable as you possibly can doesn’t make you pretty or cute or even the least bit adorable. Good thing that he is used to feeling sad and kinda of bullied – you’re lucky he doesn’t even try to feel good anymore. Not in his destiny book to live a good life. — I brought food. 

You groan lightly, whimpering somewhere in the corner of his basement. To your justification, his basement is a bit dirty. He forgot to visit the house for months after deployment, which was never enough to fill out the blanks of loneliness in the empty rooms. His dogshits methods of choosing decorations also made the mere existence in the house a hard mission even in itself. He looked at the anime posters in the guest rooms, which made him want to sell the property to anyone willing to pay 50 Euros for the processing fees. The posters(Sword Art Online because why the hell not, he likes cool swords and a power fantasy about a loser getting the chick) and artwork of his queen and savior, The Busty Blond Lady From Fate because, unlike those waifu-obsessed freaks, he did have a life and not enough time to actually remember her name. Something about light sabers. Or cats. — Are you going to kill me? 

He sighs because you sound like a broken record. All the time – the questions about his intentions, like you can’t see the tent in his pants every time you open your eyes, about letting you go, about at least allowing you to text your family that you decided to change your country of residence and would need to revoke your German visa. You’re way more soft than he thought you’d initially be – no fighting, no arguing, just pure terror and desire to die every time his hands brush over you. König is a sweet guy, as sweet as someone like him can be – but he only has a few weeks until his next mission, and even a few days of your moping around is bound to make him not just blue-balled, but also very, extremely, offensively hot-headed. 

He spent two days with you chained up in his basement and, he thinks, that should be enough for foreplay. He is extremely generous and kind – usually, at this point, he’d already start breaking the fingers of whoever poor fuck is his torture victim for the mission. 

— I don’t want to kill you. 

You whimper – somehow, his answer didn’t calm you down. Fucking women and their inability to talk to their kidnappers – he considers spiking your food just this once, so he could have a nice session with your little drunk self and some roofies but, of course, he is a nice guy who brought you takeout in a reheatable container, with a cute plastic fork and some sparkling water in a glass, just so you won’t feel like he is making you eat some garbage. It’s good food, too – he’d love to cook like this, but the heights of his skills are runny eggs and burnt coffee. He hopes you like the Italian because it’s the most inoffensive stuff he could have brought you without resorting to pizza and cup noodles. He will never let you eat cup noodles on his watch. 

— Are you going to rape me? 

He can’t exactly say no because, as a matter of fact, pulling your cute body under his is one of his intentions. He wanted to do it since he was you in this fucking store, but, of course. saying this to a pretty girl is lame. And completely counter-productive. And would make him a villain in your eyes, even though he tries so fucking hard to be a hero. He can make you feel good if you were to just open your pretty legs for him and moan under his tongue – god knows, he wants to make you feel good. He wonders what would it take for him to please you. If he could have a full-time job at this. 

— Nein. Thought I told you already. 

— I don’t…I shouldn’t believe you. 

He shook his head, pushing the plate(he had to go out of his way to actually put the pasta from the tray to a proper plate, enjoy this, woman) towards you. You’re adorable like this – naked, trembling, a bit too weak to actually fight him over not eating anything for the past two days – you’re repeating the same conversation over and over again and König wouldn’t mind living in a groundhog day if the loop would end with his fucking you on that thin mattress each time. 

Speaking of mattresses – he needs to get you a thicker one. 

Speaking of thicker mattresses – he needs to relocate you into his bedroom as soon as possible. 

Speaking of his bedroom – he is fucking bricked. 

— If you don’t trust me, why do you ask? 

You bite your lips. He can see you’re hungry and thirsty – he doesn’t want to forcefully feed you, so, yeah, you better be very hungry very soon. He pushes the plate towards you, hoping you won’t launch it on his head. He survived worse, a 6’4 British dude in a ski mask falling on him with the speed of Brexit, but getting hit by a plate when your angry girlfriend is being an angry girlfriend is…the best thing that could ever happen to him, actually. Gott, he is miserable. 

— I…I don’t know. Don’t want to get killed. 

— I won’t kill you. 

— But you will hurt me. 

— I don’t have to do that, Liebling. 

No, he doesn’t. 

But he sees the way your plushy thighs are squeezing into that tiny corner where your mat is, your squishy body getting all shaky and trembly, your lips in a tight line with tiny blood droplets from biting on them too much – and, by his fucking god, you’re beautiful. He wants to make you wet, to make you squirm, to make you beg and cry for mercy as he pounds into the sweetness of your cunt. He wants to try you on the inside and out, lick you all over from the inside, and then make you lick your love juices from his lips. 

König knows he is hard and can’t really hide it – it’s useless now, really, he is being very nice and considerate to you. Changing your life is hard, especially with how quickly you moved to his place – like a good boyfriend, he should help you adjust. And aid you in recognizing that he is, in fact, your boyfriend and future husband. The perfect partner to ever exist. — What is it? 

— Pasta. It’s…it’s good. Should be good. He is nervous, anxious. Seeing a pretty girl in her natural habitat – a Lego store – is one thing. He was barely able to talk to you properly, especially right after his deployment, where the only female attention he ever got was Roze asking to cover her or additional female soldiers groaning in pain as he stomped them. But you…he shouldn’t be colonel around you – absolutely not. You’re soft and civilian, you’re as polite as a girl in a basement could be, and you deserve to have something nice for once in your life. Licking his lips, König gently picks up a fork and presses a small amount of pasta – rich, creamy, with some nice cheese that smells divine - -against your lips. 

You refuse.

A smart move, he could have poisoned it – so he thinks for a few seconds, staring at you like a smart girlie you are, and then – lifts his hood. If only barely, revealing his scarred chin and bruised lips. The initial swelling after getting his head bumped by a guy who was speaking like an edgy teenager in the Counter-Strike lobby was already gone by the time he managed to get you into his basement – but no amount of rest could hide all other marks from his job. 

Despite being a seasoned mercenary with hundreds of killed targets and completed objectives, he feels…insecure. You’re a nice girl, a good girl, the type that used to look at him with hatred while he was bullied at school. Hatred or pity – but you only look at him with fear, and it cements his understanding that you’re not going to give in to loving him so easily.

König sighs deeply, his lips, curved into that awkward, boyish smile that creeps on his face every time he as much as thinks about you, now transforming into a scowl as you proceed to whimper and try to get lost in the wall behind you. Like he wouldn’t be able to track your scent if you would disappear. He slowly presses his fork towards his mouth, chewing on the food – showing you that it’s not poisoned. 

He smiles again when he sees you slowly parting your lips, expecting him to feed you with less of a fuss. He’d propose something else – maybe even untying your hands and allowing you to actually for yourself, but something in your helpless state made his cock throb in his pants. God, König knows he isn’t his strongest soldier, but could he please make you less adorable? He doesn’t want to push you on your knees and make you suck on him until he whimpers, but the way you lick all of the cheese from your lips and try your best to look presentable in front of him… The process of feeding someone shouldn’t really be sexual, but König gently pushes the hair away from your face and lifts up the fork over and over, sometimes only changing to bring a glass of water to your lips. He can do this all day. Every day. Pleasing you already becomes second nature – and he spends most of his life thinking that the only thing he can take care of is his rifle and a few tortured enemies that need their teeth extracted. You require gentle handling – and he wants nothing more but to give you that. Just…a bit later. Preferably after the already came in your pussy at least two or three times and made you choke on his dick as a little thank-you gift. 

You finish eating after a short while, thanking him for bringing you a napkin to clean your lips. König gently caresses your head, enjoying the sensation of your hair under his palm – it’s like petting a cat. A soft little pet just for him and no one else – if only he could actually bring you to like him. He has a few bond activities in mind, though. — You liked it, ja? 

You lick your lips again, and his breath hitches. This is going to be hard, this is going to be impossible, it’s worse than having to work with high Krueger on a ship that made everyone feel like they were the ones doing crack in the backroom of their makeshift base. 

— I…I did. 

He pets your head again like you’re his pet – and you gently move your head to lean into his touch. Perhaps you’re dumber than he thinks. Or way smarter – a clever strategy to make him relax and nice to you without making him too suspicious. You slowly get back into your corner, but König wouldn’t have any of it – he drags you back by your arm, making you whimper and sob in his hold. It’s bad, he doesn’t want you to squirm from under him as much as you do, but…if you don’t want to be a good girl, he might as well force you to. 

You cry as he pushes you deep into the corner, his hands roaming over your body. Thank god he ripped your clothes before you woke up – now there isn’t anything protecting you from his hands, not even that adorable bra he ripped in pieces because, as much as he loved wearing a uniform with straps and buttons everywhere, he could not figure out how to take this thing off you without breaking it. The last time he was sleeping with a woman, she wore a sports bra that could be taken off easily. It’s your fault that you decided to be more girly, really. Not his. 

His hands cup your breasts roughly. Tugs and twists your nipples, a few shaky moans telling him exactly how sensitive you are – he might not have a girl in a hot minute, too busy with being the best freaking mercenary in the world, but even he knows how to take care of a pretty thing like you. Your tits fit in his hands perfectly, even more, reasons to believe you were just made for him. Not for some lame job at a Lego store counter – you should be waiting on your knees in his bedroom, with your mouth open wide and neat to fit his cock right in. With some sweet things lingering on your tongue as he bullies himself right in, getting what he deserves for protecting peace – and installing violence – while doing his job. He might not be the best freaking guy around, but he deserves something nice. 

He pinches your nipples until they’re firm and swollen, every little cry escaping from your lips is only encouraging him to proceed. Licks on the open skin of your neck until his eneve stubble makes you whimper from how sensitive you are – it should be painful, he thinks, with how bloody the little bite marks from his teeth have become. 

König marks you as thoroughly as possible, smiling each time you cry and beg for him to stop. You’re changing between bad German and good English, between loud cries and small whimpers, which he can’t determine from pleasure to pain. Not like he cares, too determined to make you cry his name – even though you probably don’t know it. All of his desires to claim you taking full power now, not listening to the way you plead with him. Whimper for him. Your skin is a clear canvas, allowing him to paint you with hickeys and marks, enjoying the little blood droplets covering your collarbones. 

— Quiet, please. Don’t…don’t move, Schatzi. I don’t want to hurt you. 

— Please, please, just…anything but… — Won’t take long. Promise. 

— I don’t want to- — Quiet. I know you don’t, Liebling. Just…Scheisse, you…fuck. 

— Stop! — Can’t. I apologize, Schatzen. Relax for me, ja?

He whispers, he whimpers, he is almost out of his mind when he can finally put his tongue on your swollen nipples. For some weird, depraved reason, he almost expects the milk to start flowing from your chest, allowing him to drink up as much as he wants. If he could get you pregnant, he might enjoy it for a few months – although having a kid on his hip isn’t as fun as it could have. He tried to babysit Hutch kids once when he brought them to base – and it was the worst fucking day of his life. Besides, little children can’t be around Legos – it's already a deal breaker for someone like him. 

Speaking of legos…

You wiggle in his grasp, as good as you can with your hands still in the handcuffs – he should give you that one, at least you aren’t just laying lifelessly in front of him. At least you’re putting up a fight. At least he doesn’t feel too bad about restraining you without proper reasoning. You lick your lips again, that cute tongue of yours going over all the bite marks. You take a deep breath, shaking in his hold. God, he can just look in your face the whole day – barely knows how to handle himself around you. — I…I thought you wanted to…build this set with me? Smart girl. Way smarter than he gave you credit for – you know how to make him stop in his tracks and finally look at you differently. Maybe, you’re too good for him. Maybe, he doesn’t really care about that. Millennium Falcon, still sitting in the box – König hoped you’d start slowly putting it together but, seemingly, you need a bit of encouragement. The only thing that could tug him away from your breasts is the expensive set sitting just next to him. 

Might start bonding with you as well. He tugs away from your nipples with a loud pop, an obnoxiously wet sound emerging as a thin line of saliva connects your breasts and his tongue. You whimper when he smiles, that scarred face of his twisting in a huge grin. Knows he’s not the most charming person around, but it’s not like you have any choice now – not with the limited options he gave you. Like a good girl, you’d probably pick doing Lego Sets with him than taking his cock in that tight pussy of yours. He’d be satisfied with any outcome. — J…ja. I’d like that.  He has to give this one to you – you really know how to get a man going.

Bu building this insane set with him, that is.

[marlenesluv]

Home. (OP)

request -> “hi! if it's not a bother, could you do a oscar piastri x adhd reader (very hyper and bubbly), from Brazil (Paraná) but she speaks a bunch of languages, and is studying mechanical engineering, also she's 18, thank you ❤️”

note: lovey love love this sm. oscar is so sweet, not enough oscar love out there fr. i might start writing for him more?.. happy to write some brazilian reader too, i love this. i made this to skip the launch, just some cute stuff of them dating! anyways, i hope you enjoy :)❤️

warnings: none!!

fc: rafaella consentino

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: y/n.user, landonorris, and 289,024 others

oscarpiastri: back to her roots 📍Paraná, Brazil 🇧🇷

view comments…

oscar.y/nfanpage: oscar 🤝 turning into a y/n fanpage

y/n.user: happy to be back and show you around😊🫶

|> oscarpiastri: we walked 15 miles in one day, how much more to see is there??

|> y/n.user: so so SO much more

|> oscarpiastri: i’ll only walk my feet off for you🫶

f1.edits: they are so sweet, they give me a toothache 🥹

y/n.wagpage: my favorite wag 💁‍♀️🙏

pastry.fanpage: brazil is so beautiful, enjoy your break with your gf oscar!

landonorris: no invite?

|> oscarpiastri: next time

|> y/n.user: OO YAYAYA i’m such a good tour guide

|> landonorris: oh no, im gonna have to walk 100 miles, aren’t i?

|> oscarpiastri: 😁😁

f1.updates: i love me some summer break content. and when it’s oscar & y/n? NEED

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liked by: oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes, and 173,135 others

y/n.user: finally got a break from building stuff and finals🫠 agora posso mostrar ao Oscar minha casa

translation (i used google so this might not even be correct but pls bear with me): now i get to show oscar my home

view comments…

oscarpiastri: i love you💚💛💙

|> y/n.user: aww, i love you too💚💛💙

|> user7: i’m- stop. this is so cute

y/n.fans: multilingual queen👸

francisca.cgomes: you guys are the cutest

|> y/n.user: kikaaaa <3

f1.wags: just wondering, does anyone know what other languages y/n speaks??

|> y/n.fanpage: portuguese is her main language, then english. and she also knows japanese, french, italian, spanish, some german, and i think she said she’s learning dutch!

|> f1.wags: howwww….

|> y/n.user: haha, you got them all! my parents thought i needed to know as many languages as possible, so i try to always expand :)

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liked by: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, and 182,294 others

y/n.user: is he as good on a moped as he is in an f1 car…?

view comments…

lilymhe: i just cant believe you EXIST. you’re stunning

|> y/n.user: LILYYYYY 🥹😭 i cant believe YOU exist

f1andf2.wags: i love the way that all the wags are friends wtf🥹

|> wag.postsoff1: me tooooo

oscarpiastri: yes, yes i am

|> y/n.user: my kens job is vroom

|> francisca.cgomes: mine too!

|> carmenmmundt: wow! mine too, guys😇

user77: you beautyyyyy💛

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your instagram story:

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liked by: oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, and 199,246 others

y/n.user: back to the paddock fits😁 so excited to annoy the mclaren engineers while i do my coursework 😇

view comments…

oscarpiastri: they love you, it’s okay

|> y/n.user: i love gossiping with them☺️

f1.wagpage: cutest couple ever, STOP IT NOW

formula1updates: so excited for the paddock posts!!

oscary/n.ship: pls teach oscar some portuguese🙏

|> y/n.user: trust me, i’ve been trying. he’s getting somewhere

pierregasly: can’t wait for you to steal my gf again

|> y/n.user: is it stealing if she comes over willingly?🤨

editsforwags: the first look so good🤝

mclaren: excited to have you both back🧡

*liked by creator*

user04: 日本に来てください！(come to japan!)

|> y/n.user: すぐ！(soon!)

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[watchmegetobsessed]

SIREN

A/N: italrry is superior and im very much enjoying the content we've been getting

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a little lonely getaway in your dad's Italian villa, but plans get a little messed up and you end up having to share the villa with your dad's friend, Harry.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It’s fate. 

Nothing else could explain how you ended up in Italy with your father’s hot friend you’ve had a crush on probably since you were eighteen, the man who was behind your sexual awakening and all your deepest, most dirtiest fantasies. 

Well, you didn’t come here with him. You just ended up in your father’s villa at the same time thanks to a coincidence. 

You were supposed to spend a week here with your two best friends, just sunbathing, eating pasta and pizza and drinking the days away under the hot Italian sun. It was all you could think about the past few weeks, but then they both ended up canceling on the trip.

Daphne had a family crisis, her mom broke her leg and her dad is away on a business trip until the end of the month, so she had to stay back and take care of her mom. 

Syd on the other hand chose to spend the week with her boyfriend who is set to move to a different state at the end of summer, she’s been moping about having to go long distance for months now, so it wasn’t a complete surprise she decided to stay with Connor.

That’s how your plans were messed up, but instead of being upset and canceling the whole trip you decided to just come on your own, have some much deserved alone time and not let the circumstances ruin your mood.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, when you told your dad about the change of plans he completely misunderstood you and thought the trip was canceled, so he ended up telling Harry he could take the villa for his trip, because it would be vacant. You’d arrived just an hour before you heard the front door opening, you jumped over your suitcases and grabbed the closest thing you could reach, which happened to be your platform heels, you rushed down the stairs, ready to attack the intruder when you saw that it was Harry.

“What the–?!” he took a step back, dropping his duffel bags.

“Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!” you groaned, dropping your arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? What are you doing here?” he asked back.

You untangled the story and realized that you both planned to take the villa at the same time. Harry offered to find a hotel, but you told him there’s no need.

“This place is big enough for the two of us.”

You could see some resistance in his eyes, but then ended up staying.

Now it’s been three days and you never want to leave this place and it’s only because of Harry.

It’s no news that the man is fine. At thirty-eight he is better than any man your age in any sense. Physique, looks, manners, there’s nothing you could bring up that Harry doesn’t check out. His ridiculously handsome face has been the subject of your wet dreams for a long time now and he is sporting a mustache, something you usually can’t stand on a man but Harry makes it look good, of course. His sporty figure is adorned by dozens of tattoos that are mostly hidden under his designer clothes, but you’ve been ogling them quite often since his arrival.

Every morning Harry goes on his run and you sit on your balcony when he arrives back, just so you can see him all sweaty. His short shorts, tank tops or no tops at all… It’s the perfect view for your morning coffee.

You haven’t mingled too often so far, Harry is here partially on business so he is usually out and about during the day. You happened to have breakfast at the same time once, then he gave you a ride into the town just yesterday. You run into each other usually in the evening, but you haven’t spent any time together. 

It seems to be changing tonight however. 

You spent the day on the beach, swam quite a lot so you tired yourself out enough not to want to go out for dinner this time. Instead, you made some pasta and got yourself some nice red wine, so you end up eating on the terrace by the pool, watching the Sun go down over the horizon. You hear Harry get home and expect him to go to his room, but he surprises you when he opens the sliding door and walks out with a plate and a wine glass in his hands.

“Hey, do you maybe have enough for another person?” he asks with a charming smile.

“Of course! Sit down!” you gesture with a chuckle. Harry sits by the table and fills his plate while you pour him some wine. “I don’t take accountability if it tastes shit though,” you warn him.

“I’m sure it’s great,” he smiles before digging in and you wait for your reaction. He lets out a pleased hum and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel it between your legs. “It’s good, Y/N. Really good.”

You take the compliment with a smirk as you take a sip from your wine.

At first you sit in a comfortable silence, you’re watching the view and Harry eats beside you, it’s quite idyllic.

“So how did you end up here alone?” he asks when he’s done eating. Leaning back he grabs his wine and watches you with curious eyes over the rim of his glass.

“My girlfriends ended up canceling, but I really wanted to get away so I decided to come alone,” you explain with a shrug.

“And no boyfriend to come with you?”

You can’t help but laugh at his assumptions.

“No, no boyfriend,” you say, finishing up your glass so you reach for the bottle and refill your drink.

“Why is it so funny?”

“It’s just… if you knew what’s been going on in my dating life, you’d have never asked me that.”

“Now that sounds interesting, fill me in.”

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“Nothing about you is boring, Y/N.”

The way he is looking at you has you swooning. Maybe it’s the wine buzz or more like his charisma, but he could get you to say… or do anything.

You tell him the long story of your ex, how he cheated on you and tried to blame it all on you, sometime halfway into the story Harry brings out another bottle of wine and by the time you get to your latest couple of disastrous dates you both are tipsily laughing.

“And then he asked if I wanted to come over, for real! I imagined us hooking up while his grandma is making cookies in the kitchen, fucking hilarious!” you cackle, gesturing around with your empty wine glass.

“Snacks after sex! That’s a win!” he laughs, making you practically wheeze. 

“God, no, I hope I’ll never see him again,” you shake your head, placing the empty glass to the table as you pull up your legs while your laughter dies down. “Alright, we talked enough about my catastrophic dating life, now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?” He arches his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I wanna know all the juicy stories of your dating life, it’s only fair if you share it all too.”

“I don’t have anything mentionable,” he shrugs. “My last girlfriend was pretty okay, we just didn’t work out. I’ve only had one-night-stands since then, but nothing outrageous.”

“No awkward stories? Come on!”

“I swear!” he chuckles. “It’s always the same, I tell them what I want and they are okay with it. Sometimes they try to make it into more, but I’m always straight forward with them.”

“Oh my God! You and your fucking BDE!” you chuckle, not even surprised that he is excellent even in one-night-stands.

“BDE? What’s that?”

“You never heard it?” you scoff, Harry shakes his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t be the one explaining this one to you,” you chuckle, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Why?” he keeps pressing and the way his eyes pierce into yours has you folding already.

“Alright, you asked for it,” you chuckle, letting your feet return to the floor. You cross your legs and lean closer, as if you’re about to share a secret with him. “BDE stands for Big Dick Energy.”

You watch his reaction, his gaze darkens and you notice the change in his vibe, but you can’t tell where it’s heading, so you keep talking.

“It could originate from a lot of things, manners, a way someone acts usually, how they appear in front of others. It’s usually confident and self assured, but not too much, that could result in the polar opposite of BDE. How you react in certain situations… stuff like that.”

For a few long moments Harry just stares back at you, as if he needs time to process the information he just learned. Then he leans back, a tiny grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

“And what’s the female equivalent of BDE?”

“No idea, Tight Coochie Vibes?” you joke, making him laugh out loud.

“So… you think I have that? Big Dick Energy?”

The words sound so obscene from his mouth, you have to stop yourself from whimpering. 

“I don’t think, I know,” you confidently answer.

“Why?”

“Oh, you just want me to feed your ego now,” you chuckle as a breeze dances across your naked shoulders and you shiver lightly. The sun has set a while ago and though it’s still pretty warm outside, your strapless dress is definitely not enough to be just sitting out on the terrace. 

Harry stands up and walks inside, only to appear with a blanket that he wraps around you.

“Thank you,” you smile at him. 

The two of you sit in silence, but then you start talking, as if you were under a spell.

“It’s the way you walk,” you start, Harry’s attention snapping back to you. “And the way you treat others. You’re caring and considerate, but also… there’s a hint of dominance in you. It’s very hot.”

“It seems like you’ve been paying attention to me a lot,” he comments, obviously as just a joke, but you want to play a different game.

“Yeah, I have,” you admit and that something, that darkness flashes through his eyes again. 

“Y/N…”

“What?” you chuckle, the wine you’ve consumed has definitely brought your braveness out of you. “I’m just telling the truth. You’re obviously a charming, handsome man, inside and out. And I’m not blind, Harry.”

“No, you’re not blind, but you’re also quite young.”

“I’m twenty-five. I have several girlfriends who like to date men in their forties and it’s totally fine.”

“It’s absurd,” he shakes his head, looking out to the starry night sky.

“What?”

“That we’re even talking about this. How did… fuck,” he breathes out and you know this is the moment where you should just keep pushing it and then… you might get what you’ve always wanted.

“Two adults talking about their attraction, that does not sound absurd to me… or… do you not find me attractive?” you ask, tilting your head to the side, looking as innocent as possible.

“I do,” he answers right away, his honesty surprising both you and him. “I do,” he then repeats. “But you know it’s… complicated.”

“It’s not. I want you. Do you want me? It’s a simple yes or no question.”

Harry’s gaze burns into yours, his jaw clenches and you notice how his knuckles are turning white as he is gripping the arm of his chair. You’ve never wanted anything more than to just climb into his lap and finally find out if he really does have a big fucking dick.

But then the moments pass by and he remains silent, your courage deflates and your doubt bubbles from the back of your mind where you kept your rationality during this whole conversation. 

Chuckling, you shake your head and get yourself ready to leave or more like escape.

“Forget about it,” you sigh, as you slip your feet back into your slippers. “I had too much wine.”

From the corner of your eyes you see him nodding. You’re already regretting being so bold, because there’s an obvious awkwardness lingering around you now, but then, as you stand from your seat and the dizziness hits you in the head and you lose your balance. You start falling, but Harry jumps to his feet and catches you with ease, pulling you into his steady embrace, your face now only an inch away from him.

“Careful,” he breathes out, his hand pressing into your lower back while yours is resting at the base of his neck. 

Up this close, he looks even more irresistible, you can see every freckle and blemish and those unfairly curly eyelashes framing his gorgeous, green eyes. Your lips are tingling, begging to make contact with his skin.

His gaze drops to your lips and you’re convinced this is the moment he will give in, but then something else, something confusing happens. 

One of his hands reaches up, cupping your jaw and he runs his thumb across your trembling bottom lip, but instead of kissing you he just says:

“Siren.”

Before you could question, his hold loosens around you, only keeping a gentle hand on your back.

“You think you can walk up to your room alone?”

“I-I’m good,” you breathe out, feeling enchanted by his closeness.

“Good night, Y/N.” His hand falls from your back and you want to beg him to keep touching you, but you just mumble your goodbye and then somehow walk back inside, though you feel like you’re sleepwalking. 

Harry stays outside and when you go back to your room and step out to your balcony, you catch him still sitting outside, leaning forward, his face buried in his hands. Then, as if he could feel your gaze on him he stands up, picks up the two glasses and the empty wine bottles and walks inside. 

You hear him shuffling downstairs and then his bedroom door closing. Your heart still hammers when you fall into bed and drift off to sleep.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[adore-laur]

PINK VELVET

— an italian getaway full of sunshine & surprises 💗

——

SALERNO, ITALY

Crystalline blue waters sparkling under the sunshine, ornate architecture standing high among the cliffsides, and mopeds burning rubber on the cobblestone streets—it's all pure, unadulterated bliss. 

Sharing that bliss with your boyfriend enhances the experience. Both of you have been staying at a villa rental for a few days already, and the surrounding greenery and stucco buildings on the precipice rocks of the Tyrrhenian Sea bring a much-needed sense of privacy. It's a getaway for your third anniversary with Harry, and while it's a more extended vacation than usual—two weeks to be exact—the mellow atmosphere makes you feel like you could stay in Italy forever.

Harry said he plans on wooing you with the foreign language, having bought a book filled with romantic phrases at the airport's souvenir shop. You're dreading it because once he starts, he won't stop. 

It's four in the afternoon, and you're getting ready to kayak off the Amalfi Coast. The heat will be sweltering, especially out on the open water, so you put on jean shorts over your swim bottoms, leaving just your bikini top on. Harry is standing in the doorway of the master bathroom and tying the strings of his swim trunks. He's wearing a white tank top that you know will be taken off eventually. 

A cooler packed with snacks and drinks is by the front door. Once you reach downtown, the journey to the kayak launch takes about fifteen minutes, so you and Harry will drive in the vintage Cadillac he insisted on renting and park on the street before walking the rest of the way. 

"Ready?" Harry asks, giving your ass two pats as he walks by. 

"I guess," you say flatly. 

He smirks and steals a scrunchie from your makeup bag to put around his wrist. "That's enough out of you." 

You hoist the cooler over your shoulder, sling a beach towel over the other, and then stroll through the spacious villa rooms toward the door. When you open it, a blast of humid air immediately hits you. Harry brushes past you while jingling the car keys, a drawstring backpack on his back. You lock the door before heading toward the luxurious car you don't want to know the cost of. 

Harry swings the passenger door open for you like a gentleman, but you decide to mess with him by ignoring his gesture. You open the driver's side door and smoothly crawl over the console until you're in the passenger seat. Harry slowly shakes his head, reaching forward to pluck your bikini strap with his fingers and lightly snap it against your skin. He throws his backpack under the seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

The engine roars to life. Harry's hand places itself on your headrest, his body twisting around so he can carefully reverse down the circular driveway. You take his hand and set your interlocked fingers in your lap. He glances at you and smiles, his hair blowing beautifully in the wind and the sun casting a golden hue over his face.

When you arrive downtown, Harry parks along a random street. He removes his hand from yours and claps once. "Okay, here's the game plan. I reckon we should rent one kayak for both of us. It'll be cheaper and more fun, and we can work together like—"

"Absolutely not." 

"Pardon?" 

"I'm sorry, but being stuck in a kayak with you sounds like my personal hell. You'll somehow manage to tip us over or get us lost." Harry can live in a world of his own sometimes. You really want to avoid ending up stranded in the deep, expansive ocean.

"Baby," he says, looking at you with wounded eyes. "What if I drift away and we lose each other? I need you. I'll do all the work while you sit back and relax." 

You can't possibly say no to him when he looks like a literal Greek god basking in the Italian sun, his lips irresistibly pink against his tanned skin. 

"Fine," you surrender. "I'm not letting you do all the work, though, because we'll probably end up in a different country. Also, I'm sitting in the front seat. Deal?" 

"Sì, amore mio," he says, passion dripping off his tongue. "And, um... I may have already paid for just one kayak when I booked the reservation yesterday. Well, singular ticket." 

"You're unbelievable." Stepping out of the car, you stretch your limbs while Harry puts his backpack on and grabs the cooler. You hold onto his free hand and begin walking to the beach. Many people are out and about—vendors selling gourmet cuisine, kids riding bicycles through the alleyways, and tourists stopping at attractions.

At the waterfront, kayaks are stacked on racks, shimmering under the sun. Since Harry booked a reservation ahead of time, he walks toward the man who appears to be running the operation. You watch them shake hands and converse. Harry knows enough basic Italian to navigate through any language barrier yet to come. 

Eventually, they both wander over to you, and the man caresses your hand and kisses your cheek. You smile and shyly mutter an Italian greeting. The man then excitedly leads you to the kayaks, taking a maroon two-seater from the bottom rack and dragging it toward the water. While following him, you notice only a few people are on the beach today. Only a couple of other occupied kayaks drift in the ocean, looking like mere silhouettes from where you stand. 

"You know the rules, yes?" asks the man as he pushes the front of the kayak into the shallow water. 

"Yes, I've done this before. I'll teach this guy," you say, pointing at Harry while draping your towel over the seat. 

Harry smiles mindlessly, placing the cooler and backpack between the two seats. The man briefly leaves to grab life jackets and oars, leaving you and Harry to get into the kayak. You let him go first since he's sitting in the back. As you grip the side so it doesn't rock, he removes his tank top and hands it to you before steadily climbing in and bending his long legs to fit in the restrictive space. 

You're next. Harry plants his foot in the sand to keep the kayak balanced and then offers his hand to grasp. Once you're situated, you sigh relievedly.

"This sucks," Harry mutters, nudging his knee against your back. "I can't even see your face." 

"You could've solved that problem if you got us two kayaks."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be close to you," he says, sliding his shoes off. "Just look behind you every once in a while so I can get my fix." 

You laugh, looking at the water that endlessly expands past the horizon. The man comes back with two life jackets, and you clip one to your body as sturdy oars are placed across your and Harry's laps. The man gives a thumbs up and slowly maneuvers the kayak away from the shoreline.

"Grazie!" Harry shouts, waving to him as the both of you drift further from land. 

"Ciao! Stai al sicuro!" he shouts back. 

The destination of the cliffs is a short one; their imminent height is visible far out to the left of the coastal village. You begin paddling, alternating sides to stay on a straight path, while Harry opens the cooler to take out a package of crackers and a bottle of water.

"Please tell me you know how to properly paddle," you say, taking a break to sip some water while the kayak naturally rides the ripples.

"Obviously. I'm kind of the backbone of this kayak, so I know what I'm doing," Harry replies with faux confidence, still not picking up the paddle. 

"That's funny, considering I'm literally doing all the work right now. Get to paddling, or I won't turn around so you can get your fix." 

"Calmati, bellissima," he murmurs, snatching a handful of crackers before finally helping.

A comfortable silence ensues, with only the sound of water splashing and the slight creak of the kayak that comes with each movement. Harry whistles a tune every so often. A content smile pulls at your lips.

However, it doesn't last long because if there's one thing Harry loves to do, it's acting like a child sometimes. He disrupts the long stretch of peace by pretending to tip over the kayak by rocking slightly back and forth in his seat, gasping like he's not doing it. 

"Harry, I swear," you say with a nervous undertone, holding on to the edge of the kayak so you don't actually tip over into the vast ocean, infested with who knows what. "You're like a five-year-old!" 

He listens immediately, apparently noticing your anxiousness. He settles back in his seat, stretching his legs next to your body and nudging his foot against your thigh as a silent apology.

"It wasn't me. I think there's an animal under us," he says, playing with your hair to distract you. It doesn't help, because you know that there are probably massive creatures swimming below you. He knows one of your biggest fears is drowning, so he should feel like a jerk now after his little charade.

"Are you going to sit there and braid my hair, or can you help me get to our destination before it gets dark?" 

"Sorry," he murmurs, grabbing his paddle and helping you turn left toward the rock formations. They aren't too far away now.

"We're almost there," you encourage softly, dialing back your slight attitude. Harry is quiet, so you turn around to see him pouting softly. "Why are you sulking?"

"Am I being annoying? You sound annoyed with me," he says, avoiding eye contact and setting his paddle down.

"No, honey. I just want to get there as quickly as we can and swim for a bit. We have wine tasting after this, so we can't dilly-dally." 

"Dilly-dally," he repeats, laughing at your chosen phrase. "Okay, I'll behave. Kiss?" 

You capture his lips with yours, tasting the tomato and basil crackers he's been munching on. He kisses you back and reaches out his hand to push some hair behind your ear. Pulling away, you see the cliffs only about two hundred feet away. You both begin paddling again in serene silence. 

At the side of the cliff, you stop the kayak by a large, flat rock that peeks out of the water and appears safe to stand on. You hold onto it; the waves are more active in this area, and you tie some rope around the post provided. You assume it's there for other kayakers and cliff divers to take advantage of. 

Once you climb onto the rock, you offer your hand to assist Harry and pull him up. "We made it!" you exclaim, lifting your arms. Harry high-fives both of your hands and bends down to kiss you. 

You unclip your life jacket, then do the same for Harry. Free from obstruction, your arms naturally loop around his waist for a hug. He embraces you, his large hand cradling the back of your head. You stay like that for a while, watching waves crash against the rocks as the sun starts painting the sky with blue and orange streaks. 

"Wanna do something stupid?" you say into his chest before lifting your chin to look at him mischievously. He has more freckles due to the hours spent sunbathing. 

Harry peers at you with furrowed brows. "What?"

"Let's jump off that rock," you say, pointing your finger behind him. 

He turns you both around, still trapping you in his arms. A tall, cliff-like rock surrounded by several smaller rocks makes it easy to reach the top. You don't wait for Harry's answer and pull your shorts down, revealing your cherry-red bikini bottoms. Venturing your way up, you glance back at Harry. He grins and immediately follows suit, walking behind you with outreached arms in case you slip. 

At the top, you both stare at each other with knowing smiles. This is exactly where you're supposed to be. 

Out of nowhere, Harry experiences a burst of spontaneity and quickly lunges forward, cannonballing off the cliff and into the water. He emerges after a few seconds, shaking his hair and letting out a loud holler, probably caused by adrenaline or the cold water. 

You shuffle toward the edge and get ready to jump. Harry's gaze never wavers as you daintily leap off, plugging your nose and closing your eyes on the long way down. When you hit the water, a powerful sensation rushes through your body. You glide to the surface and find Harry swimming toward you, his drenched hair plastered to his skin.

The water is at an uncomfortable temperature, so you move briskly to climb back up on the rock the kayak is tied to. Shortly after, Harry lifts himself up, droplets dripping from his body. You dry off with the towel, then hand it to him. Once he finishes, you take your phone out of the backpack and tell him to pose. He presents both middle fingers, sticking his tongue out with a smile. The breathtaking evening view in the background makes the picture ten times more perfect. 

"Let's head back," you say after soaking in the skyline. "The wine tasting is at six, and it's a little after five right now." 

Harry nods, and you both put your life jackets back on before situating yourselves in the kayak. You untie the knotted rope, push off the rock, and then head toward the coastline. He helps paddle the whole way there, kissing the back of your neck every so often. 

Bliss, bliss, bliss. 

—— 

After returning the kayak and packing all the stuff in the car's trunk, Harry says he's going to find a nearby bathroom so he can change into his outfit for the wine tasting. He hands you one of his sweaters out of the bag—a gray crewneck. It's your favorite and still smells like him, no matter how often you've worn it. 

You have no idea what outfit he brought; he manages to take it out and quickly runs into a shop while you're distracted by the lively village. Waiting with anticipation in the car, you cozy up, growing tired from the strenuous paddling and calming atmosphere around you. 

Five minutes pass before Harry appears, and you immediately laugh at the sight of him. Not because he looks silly, but because his outfit is too fancy for less than an hour of wine tasting in some restaurant's cellar. 

"Harry," you say breathily, taking in his outfit. "I'm wearing a sweater, and you're wearing a suit. Where did you even get that?" 

It's a bubblegum pink suit left open over a plain white button-up. White dress shoes are on his feet, and he must've fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror. 

"Eh?" He spins around. "You like it?" 

"You look very handsome, but now I feel severely underdressed. Why didn't you tell me to pack a dress?" You obviously don't have the time to go back to the villa and change, but you're curious as to why Harry didn't say anything about the apparent dress code for tonight. 

"I wanted to surprise you, darling. Plus, I know you would be worried about spilling wine on something nice. It's a private tasting, so no one will see you but me and the chef I mentioned."

Harry had booked a wine tasting with a man he'd met when he last visited Italy, the friendly owner of a family-owned restaurant in the village. He has always been able to leave unforgettable impressions on everyone he meets, so the man gladly moved some things around so that he could have you two come to the cellar for an intimate experience. 

You sigh, realizing there's no point in arguing. They won't care, so why should you? You have no doubt that Harry will make you feel comfortable once you get there. 

"You're right. Hopefully, he doesn't care that I look like I just crawled out of a lake." 

"Basta. Sembri un sogno," Harry says, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the car. 

You assume he said something incredibly charming. Your face naturally warms as you distract yourself by picking nonexistent lint off your sleeve before walking the bustling street toward a restaurant called Dahlia. The man Harry knows is waiting by the arched front door with a jovial smile.

"Ciao, Signore Styles!" he greets enthusiastically. "Ah, la tua ragazza. Benvenuto!"

Harry shakes his hand. "Che bello rivederti. Questa è la mia ragazza, sì. Cominciamo, va bene?" 

"Yes, yes. Seguitemi, cari." 

The two of you follow him through the small, packed restaurant and descend a narrow flight of stairs that leads to a wine cellar. Harry is behind you, his hands on your shoulders to ensure you don't take a tumble. His dress shoes click against the polished wood with each step. 

At the bottom, you turn down a dim hallway. Endless wine bottles are meticulously stacked on shelves against the walls. There's a table and chairs, and two wine glasses and napkins are already set neatly on the surface. There's even a plate of bread. 

You sit, and Harry does the same. He immediately begins shaking the napkin out and placing it in his lap, like he's done this a million times before. You cross your legs and angle your body toward him, admiring his features in the low, yellowish lighting from the antique wall sconces. He grins handsomely.

The man brings over two bottles of expensive-looking wine, and you think of your preconceived notion of what wine tasting would be like—rolling hills and vineyards in the countryside, getting wine drunk with middle-aged moms wearing patterned blouses, gossiping about their cheating husbands. 

Where you are right now is undeniably better. Who wouldn't want to be in a cramped room with their boyfriend, who's wearing a pink suit and looking at you like you're the only thing that exists?

The man fills the wine glasses with an adequate amount of blood-red liquid, then stands back to observe your reactions. Harry spins it around in his glass and sniffs it, acting like he's all fancy. You want to laugh at him, but keep it inside so you don't seem disrespectful. Instead, you bring your glass up to your mouth and take a small sip, tasting wild berries and a hint of an unknown aromatic herb. Harry sips his next, eyes locked on yours the entire time. He smacks his lips after swallowing and exhales, obviously pleased. You roll your eyes at him secretively. He's acting like he owns the place, and it's shameful that you find it attractive. 

You rip off a piece of bread from the loaf in front of you and eat it, the buttery dough instantly melting on your tongue. Harry smiles at you, resting his hand on your chair as you rip some more off and offer it to him. He puts it in his mouth and mouths a silent swear, then picks up the entire loaf of bread and inspects it like he's Gordon Ramsey. 

"I need the recipe for that," you whisper humorously. 

Harry, of course, takes it literally. He beckons the man to come closer and places a friendly hand on his shoulder. "La mia ragazza adora cucinare il pane. Potrei avere questa ricetta per favore? Questo è sorprendente." 

"Ovviamente! Tornerò," says the man while hurriedly going upstairs. 

You turn to Harry with confusion, needing help understanding the exchange. 

"He's getting the recipe for it," he explains. "You can make it before we go home."

"Harry," you say with a sigh. "Stop being so nice. I could've just found an online recipe. What if it's a family recipe that's super important to him?" 

"Stop worrying, my love. He doesn't mind."

Before you can respond, the man returns with a tattered recipe book. He opens it to a bookmarked page and sets it in front of you. "Fai una photo, caro. Fammi sapere com'è quando lo fai," he says, pointing at the bread drawing—not a picture—on the weathered page. Was this recipe from medieval times? Goodness gracious.

You can't understand him, so Harry takes your phone out of your pocket and snaps a picture of the handwritten words on the paper. You can't believe this man you just met is so willing to give you a recipe from his own restaurant. 

"Grazie," you say shyly. Harry smiles at your sudden bashfulness, scooting closer to you and kissing your head.

The wine tasting continues for the next hour. Throughout the various sips of eclectic flavors, Harry amps up his lovable antics—slowly and dramatically reeling off flavors he gets from the wine and spinning the liquid in the glass so quickly that it spills onto the napkin in his lap. 

Anything to see you smile. 

After what feels like gallons of wine, you and Harry thank the man for his graciousness and ask if he could drive the car back to the villa since driving back yourselves while tipsy would be idiotic. Harry offers to pay a hefty amount for the favor, and the man happily obliges, saying he will drive it back when he finishes closing the restaurant. Harry hands him the keys before you leave, shaking hands and kissing cheeks with the other chefs on the way out. 

You're both wine-drunk—arguably the best kind of drunk—and stumbling on clumsy feet with cheeks that won't stop smiling. It's dark out now, and the streetlights guide you to the Corvette. Harry calls for a taxi, speaking in full Italian, which makes you weak in the knees. 

Harry removes his suit jacket after hanging up the phone, leaving the white button-up in all its glory, his tattoos and chest hair peeking out from the few buttons undone. You take your belongings out of the trunk, set them on the ground, and then stand beside Harry. You kiss his chest, nuzzling your cheek against it and closing your eyes. He rubs his hand along your back and begins swaying with you under the streetlight. 

You look up at him with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, admiring his matching appearance. "How do you say 'pretty' in Italian?" you ask, getting lost in his gaze. 

Harry pouts, thinking. "Patatina," he replies after a few seconds. 

"You're patatina," you say lovingly.

He snorts at your cluelessness, smearing a kiss on your forehead. 

"What?" you ask, looking at him with confusion. "Is that not what it means? That's not nice, Harry. What did you just make me say?" You gasp. "Is it something dirty?" 

He's still giggling, with crinkled eyes and deep dimples carving his face. You poke his ribs to get him to answer. "Sorry," he says, breathing out a final laugh. "No, it's not dirty. Patatina is a term of endearment I read about in the book I bought. It means little potato." 

You stare at him with a deadpan expression, thoughts about why you decided to date this boy running through your head. "Little potato... it's actually kind of cute," you admit, shuffling closer to Harry's warm body. "If you're a patatina, what am I?" 

"Cipollino," he murmurs, cradling your face. It translates to 'little onion.' The book said it pairs well with patatina, and we're, like, a pair." 

Your nose scrunches. "But an onion, out of everything? That's probably the least romantic vegetable. I want to be rhubarb or something, you know? They taste sweet, and I think... I think I'm pretty sweet. Right, Harry?" The wine is making its way to your dizzy head.

"Correct," he says. "And I'm patatina, not Harry." 

"Shut up." 

"Kiss me, then. Shut me right up." 

You don't question him, lurching forward to give him a searing kiss, fingers hooking in his belt loops. He returns the kiss with the same, if not more, passion. You can taste the residue of wine on his cherry-colored lips, opening his mouth with your tongue to suck on his. 

You suddenly hear tires rolling up and turn to see headlights shining on your figures. Great timing, taxi. You part from Harry's swollen lips, short of breath, and hastily pick up your stuff. You hope no one witnessed anything too wild.

Harry hands the driver a wad of cash before he climbs in the backseat. You follow suit. The vehicle drives off into the night, and your head rests on your lover's shoulder the whole way back.

—— 

The villa looms exquisitely under the starlit sky. You're relatively sure you fell asleep five minutes into the drive. Harry helps your sleepy body out of the car after grabbing all your belongings, then walks you up the driveway. He sets you on the outdoor sofa surrounding the fire pit before disappearing through the sliding door. The whispering breeze makes you shiver and burrow deeper into his sweater, which still clings to your figure.

Harry returns with two wine glasses and a bottle of... cranberry juice?

"If I have any more wine, I'll puke. So, cranberry juice?" he says, his voice rising to a higher octave. 

"Sitting by the fire and drinking cranberry juice out of a wine glass with you," you say dreamily while scooting over to make room for him. "I can't think of anything better."

You soak up his company. When he went inside, he changed into grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie, and he looked like such a boyfriend. It's ridiculous. He's always so inviting and lovely. You find yourself wanting to touch him and absorb the warmth he exudes.

Sleep overtakes you again while you're tucked into his side. The next thing you wake up to are silk sheets on the king-size bed. You instinctively curl up to Harry's body beside you. He must have opened the vast bay window that provides an impossible sea view because a beautiful breeze flows over your skin. It has you sinking further into the mattress. 

"Want me to get your pajamas?" Harry asks quietly.

You sleepily shake your head, perfectly fine with sleeping in his sweater. However, you do slide off your shorts and bikini bottoms. 

You're dozing again when Harry clears his throat. You open your eyes, feeling his heart rate speed up under your cheek. 

"I have something special planned for our anniversary tomorrow. It's in the evening, so we have time to do other things. Just letting you know." 

"That makes me nervous, but I trust you."

"Tomorrow will be even better than today. I promise." 

"Can't wait." You yawn. "Goodnight. Love you."

"I love you more than anything," he says, lightly scratching your back. 

You grumble an incoherent response, drifting off to your dreams, which always pale compared to life with the man next to you. 

—— 

The following morning's ambiance consists of Harry's snoring and glorious sunshine pouring through the wind-blown curtains. You must've slept like a rock because the bedside clock reads nine-thirty. You decide to abandon the soft sheets and let Harry get more sleep. 

You wrap yourself in your satin robe and pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. One glance at the oven, and you remember the bread recipe from last night. It'd be a pleasant anniversary surprise for Harry, considering his surprise for you is shrouded in mystery. Plus, making bread is oddly therapeutic—the kneading, the delicious smell, the endless possibility of flavors. Luckily, all the simple ingredients are in the pantry, so you can start making the dough. 

By the time it's in the oven, Harry is still dead to the world, and the time is nearing eleven. Some days, he'll wake up at the crack of dawn to go on a stupid run, or he'll sleep until noon on the weekends after a long week of work. There's really no in-between. 

While the bread bakes, you clean up the mess on the counters before sitting at the kitchen table to aimlessly scroll through your phone. Another twenty minutes pass before you hear feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. You glance up to find a puffy-eyed Harry rubbing his face. He's wearing black swim trunks, and that's about it, except for the sunglasses on top of his head. 

He bends down and kisses your cheek. "Buongiorno, mio piccolo cuoco," he says, his voice as raspy as the slight mustache above his lip that seems to have grown overnight.

"More like good afternoon." You shut your phone off and set it aside. "Did you sleep well?" 

"Mm, the best I have in ages," he answers, scratching his stomach. He then smiles lazily, his eyes looking more awake. "Happy anniversary." 

"Three whole years. I don't know how I've gone putting up with you this long." 

"Hey. I can go back to bed if you want," he says, pointing his thumb toward the bedroom. 

"No, stay," you plead softly. "By the way, I'm making that bread recipe. It's my present to you for being an average boyfriend." 

"Being sassy this morning, are we?" 

"You love it." 

"Got that right," Harry mutters, nosily peering into the oven. He sniffs the bread dramatically and whistles impressively before shutting the oven door. The mouthwatering aroma reminds you of wandering the Italian streets yesterday.

"Going for a swim?"

"Yeah. Join me?"

"I will once the bread is done." You stand and send him on his way with a peck on his lips. "Go ahead. I'll make you a fruit platter."

"Dragonfruit, please?" he requests, opening the sliding door that leads to the infinity pool. 

"Got it. Don't forget to put sunscreen on!" 

He gives you a thumbs up, leaving the door open to welcome the pleasant breeze. You grab hot pads and take the finished bread out, setting it on the cooling rack before turning the oven off. While it cools, you change into a swimsuit, tie a chiffon wrap skirt around your hips, and then arrange a platter. 

You gather the cubed fruit you've both been eating the past couple of days—cantaloupe, watermelon, strawberries, and, per Harry's request, dragonfruit. He wanted to buy some after his wonderful mother grew it in her garden. Then, you precisely arrange the fruit in a circle on a floating breakfast tray that can go in the pool, keeping the middle open for slices of buttered bread. You sincerely hope it tastes close enough to what you ate yesterday. 

Lastly, you fill glasses with orange juice before carefully heading outside to keep Harry company. You see him floating on his back, arms open, and eyes closed. You set the platter down on a table and tiptoe to the edge of the pool.

To hell with it. You're going to scare him to get him back after trying to tip the kayak yesterday. It's only fair, right? 

He's oblivious to everything around him, a peaceful glow on his face. You almost feel bad for deciding to disturb it—especially on your anniversary—but what good is a relationship without a bit of havoc? 

You mull over what you could possibly do to frighten him. Maybe throw a cantaloupe piece at him or pretend the car came back destroyed. These are two vastly different ends of the mischief spectrum, and ultimately, the latter is the obvious choice—and the most fun.

"Harry?" you say quietly, changing your expression to make it seem like you're distraught. 

"Yeah?" he replies, keeping his eyes closed. 

"Um, your friend from yesterday just dropped the car off. Harry, it's—"

His eyes snap open, picking up on your wavering and anxious tone. He stops floating and swims over to where you're standing by the edge. 

"What's wrong? Talk to me. Did something happen? Are you okay?" he asks worriedly, his eyes darting between your face and body to check for any signs. 

"The car," you whisper, mustering up fake tears. Harry instinctively holds your ankle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. "It's destroyed. It looks like it got into an accident. What are we going to do?" 

"Seriously? What the hell? How... I don't..." He heaves himself out of the pool and begins walking around the villa toward the driveway. He looks like he's about to punch something, so you suppress your laughter and decide to end the game. 

You grab his wrist, spinning him around. He stares at you with panic, and now you feel bad. "I'm kidding, baby. I'm just messing with you. The car is fine. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, clasping his cheeks and laughing.

His jaw drops. "You're so mean." 

"I'm just getting you back for yesterday. Them's the rules."

"Yeah, but you've been quite sassy all morning, hmm? First, you called me an average boyfriend. Then you didn't even kiss me good morning. That hurts my heart." 

"You were completely passed out. How would you have known if I kissed you good morning or not?"

"I can always tell. They bring me back to life." 

"Shut up," you scoff, grabbing the platter. "Here's some fruit and homemade bread as a peace offering. Take it or leave it." 

"Feed me in the pool, and I'll consider your offer." 

"Fine. I'm not getting in, though. I want to sunbathe for a bit. 

Harry dramatically rolls his eyes and dives back in. When he emerges, he swims to the edge. You sit down with the platter and let it float next to him before putting your feet in the tepid water. You pick up a slice of bread and hold it to Harry's awaiting mouth. He places your legs over his shoulders, his arms hooking around your upper thighs. 

Someone's needy today. 

He tosses the bread into his mouth, his eyes rolling back like they did in the wine cellar yesterday. He borderline moans at the taste, his jaw flexing with each chew. After he swallows, he leaves grateful kisses on your thighs. "Deliziosa," he murmurs, paired with more nipping and kissing. You know he's not talking about the bread. The 'a' he added to the end of the word makes it feminine. He's not slick.

Before you both get carried away—wanting to save your pent-up tension for later—you feed him a plethora of fruit before deciding to make both of you an actual meal. You're starving, so you'll catch some sun later. 

Harry whines at the loss of contact. You use your foot to push his chest until he's floating on his back again. He throws you a peace sign before you head back inside. 

As you whip up a quick breakfast, you watch your boyfriend from the door, appreciating his sunkissed body and tattoos. You smile and think about how time has flown by with him in the most remarkable way.

Three years, and hopefully a lifetime more.

—— 

You're nervous. 

You don't have the faintest idea what Harry's surprise is. All he's said is to dress nicely and not eat anything yet. Maybe he's taking you out to dinner? Or perhaps you'll walk downtown together and stop at vendors. You're stumped. He's annoyingly good at keeping secrets. 

It's nearing seven as you add the finishing touches to your makeup. Harry is in the bathroom spraying cologne on his neck, looking casually handsome in a flowing, off-white button-up. He's paired it with matching cotton shorts and sneakers that need washing. You keep telling him to clean them, but he ignores your pleading and claims the dirt gives them character. 

A short cherry-colored dress with puffed sleeves adorns your body. Red lipstick to match. Hair loose. The necklace Harry bought you for your last anniversary is glimmering against your neck. 

Harry comes behind you in the vanity mirror as you apply a final coat of mascara and starts soothingly scratching your upper back. He can probably sense you're feeling nervous, knowing you don't particularly like surprises. However, you think he looks undeniably handsome, with his new tan and stubble pulling you into his coziness. Somehow, just looking at him eases your nerves.

"Gorgeous," he whispers.

You smooth any remaining wrinkles out of your dress. "Thank you. I'm almost done." 

"Take your time," he replies, squeezing your shoulders. "I'll start the car." 

You make sure your makeup is smudge-free and then shut the bedroom light off on your way to the front door. Harry is waiting by the passenger side of the Corvette with a distracted look on his face. When he finally sees you coming, he opens the door for you. This time, you accept his gentlemanlike gesture. 

He drives to an unknown destination, taking the backroads. You can't even guess where you're headed since everything outside the villa is unfamiliar.

Ten minutes later, Harry slows down and turns right toward what appears to be a small seaside forest. He drives along the path leading through the trees until a hidden beach area eventually reveals itself. He parks the car while you're speechless at the sight before you. The only things on the sand are a round table with two chairs surrounded by tiki torches. 

No one else is here. If Harry tells you he rented the entire beach, you'll kill him. 

"I rented this portion of the beach for the night."

Of course.

"You're ridiculous," you say, taking in your surroundings. "Thank you, Harry. This is a wonderful surprise." 

He ducks his head bashfully. "C'mon, let's eat." 

You follow him to the table and sit on the wicker chair across from him. In front of you is a plate of stuffed ravioli with a side of roasted asparagus, cooked just how you like them. Harry has vegan fettuccine Alfredo with peas—a lot of peas. A gagworthy amount.

"I'm floored right now," you say, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "I can't believe you did all this without me knowing." 

"I'm a sneaky guy. There were lots of secret phone calls while you were in the shower or swimming in the pool. 

You take your sandals off and enjoy the cool sand between your toes. "Yeah, I bet. I'm not even going to ask how much it costs to rent this part of the beach." 

"It's not important," he says. "Let's eat, shall we? And talk me through this little outfit you have on. Why on earth haven't I seen you wear it yet?" 

Then, both of you eat, talk, and watch the waves glide on the shore. The sun is dipping past the horizon, turning the sky a violet shade with splashes of fading orange. You talk Harry's ear off about random stuff in your life and humorous anecdotes since the trip started. His body naturally leans toward you to give you his undivided attention. He listens the entire time, eyes on you with his chin in the palm of his hand, except for when he pops some spearmint gum into his mouth after finishing his truckload of peas. 

After you finish rambling, you wait for him to start talking your ear off. He can usually drone on and on about anything for hours, but right now, he's just sitting and staring at the sunset. 

"You're quiet," you point out, gently poking his arm with your fork. 

"Just thinking." 

"About what?" 

He sighs longingly before saying, "I know we still have more than enough time here, but I kind of don't want to leave. I love it here so much. This is the happiest I've ever been." 

Your heart melts. "I feel the same way. I could stay here forever and never get bored of it. Especially with you by my side."

Harry finally looks at you, his eyes holding something unreadable yet powerful. He stands abruptly and reaches his hand out. "Let's walk for a bit," he says with a tone that kicks your anxiety into high gear. 

You grasp his hand, and he leads you along the shoreline, your feet getting wet whenever the tide washes up. It's quiet except for the pesky seagulls, crashing waves, and salty breeze. Where you are right now makes you want to bottle up the memory so you can keep the feeling forever, replay this trip, and relive the most joyous moments of your life. 

Harry eventually stops, facing you with both hands holding yours tightly. He looks... pale. Are his hands shaking, or are you imagining things? Is he about to pass out from sunstroke? Did he eat too many peas? 

He clears his throat and visibly gulps, squinting at the sky and exhaling quickly. His feet shuffle nervously. An incomprehensible thought zings to the front of your brain. 

Is he about to do what you think he's about to do? 

"I might cry and possibly throw up, so please bear with me," he says, his voice shaky.

You just stare at him, unable to say anything. Then he begins lowering himself on one knee, and you just about go down with him. 

He removes his hands from yours and takes something out of his pocket. It's a velvet ring box, pink and delicate. 

You gasp as Harry opens his mouth, his watery eyes trained on nothing but you. "I love you with all my heart. I'm weak for the things you do, and it consumes me to the point where I feel like I might burst from loving you so much. Every word you speak or smile you give me makes me fall for you deeper and deeper. And you love me back. You love me better than anyone. And I realized when we first met that you're someone I not only want in this life but also need. You're the only one for me, and I'll take care of you, support you, and love you so thoroughly until you get sick of me. I'm rambling now, so I'll shut up and cut to the chase. I want to be your husband. Will you marry me? Please? Il mio cuore è solo tuo. If you want it, it's yours." 

Harry finishes his speech by opening the ring box to reveal a silver oval-cut ring that takes your breath away. A tear trails down your cheek as your lips wobble. You nod your head what feels like a thousand times. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. Holy shit."

He laughs beautifully, his eyes squinting so much that the captured tears in his waterline spill over. He stands and shakily puts the ring on the correct finger. It fits perfectly. 

You cup his cheeks and bring his face toward yours. "I love you," you say while kissing his flushed and tear-stained cheeks. "You're so sneaky. I wasn't expecting this until you looked like you were going to pass out in front of me." 

"Be glad I didn't throw up on your dress." 

"That's true." Suddenly, everything hits you. Harry, we're going to get married." 

He smiles with unbridled happiness, nodding before picking you up and running into the sea. The splashes he makes strike you with cold splatters, and you squeal, but it quickly turns into uncontrollable laughter when Harry spins you around and dips you toward the water. You squirm with resistance and manage to escape his arms. He stumbles from the waves but remains upright, then stares at you intensely for three seconds before kissing your lips like they're his life source. 

"My fiancée," he says, kissing down your face to your neck. "I adore you."

"Can we"—you whimper breathily—"go back to the villa and celebrate? Some wine, dessert, and... maybe some other things." 

He can't propose to you while looking this good and expect you not to jump his bones. 

"Sì, mi amore." 

—— 

At the villa, palpable tension lingers in the air and throughout your body. The adrenaline from what just happened is still coursing through your blood as Harry makes a beeline straight to the master bedroom. It's only right to follow with shallow breaths and a hammering heartbeat.

Approaching the bedroom, you see Harry already taking off his shirt. You walk over and lie on the bed, waiting for him to initiate the celebration. You're usually the one who likes to be in control, but being the sexually dominant type calls for preparation and the right kind of mood. Now, at this moment, all you want is to writhe in pleasure on silk sheets and feel Harry's touch everywhere. 

You're already impatiently aroused because of Harry's teasing on the drive back. His fingers were stroking the inside of your thigh, traveling up, up, up until they reached dangerous territory. He'd start to pull away after realizing how wet you already were, but you would trap his hand with your thighs, making him groan. Two could play at that game.

Now, Harry saunters over to you in nothing but his cotton shorts. His tanned skin looks tempting in the muted lamplight. The rest of the lights are off, and the moon is brightly shining in the indigo sky. 

"Ready for me?" he asks lowly, hungrily glancing over your body. 

You nod and bend your knees. Harry lies on his stomach and gets between your legs, his hands gripping your upper thighs with fervor. He must've put his rings on when you weren't looking. He knows you love the feeling of them. You're not picky as to where. 

"Gonna let me take care of you?"

"Please. Please, Harry." 

"Patience, my love. Let me see you." 

"I'm right here. Do something. Please, I need you." 

He shushes you with a soft timbre, scooting closer to where you need him the most. He lifts your dress, bunches the material up by your stomach, and then readjusts his grip on your thighs. His lips trail closer to your lace underwear, and he looks at you under his eyelashes. His eyes ground you, make you nervous, and leave you spellbound. Maintaining eye contact with him is hard when you know you'll come undone way too quickly from just his intense gaze. You're not giving him the benefit of that. Not tonight, at least.

Instead, you stare at the vaulted ceiling and gasp when his lips graze over your underwear. Soft, purposeful movements have you closing your thighs around your head as a reflex. Open-mouthed kisses over your wet lace drive you crazy. You're clenching and internally soliciting for him to just do something. 

"Stop teasing," you say firmly, still not looking at him.

"Don't be bossy." 

"I'm not being bossy. You're my fiancé, so you're supposed to be nice to me." 

He moves your underwear to the side. "Yeah? Does my fiancée want me to be nice to her? I'm always nice, baby. I'm always good for you; you know that." 

"You are. It's true. The nicest man I've ever known. No one has even come close." You squirm with impatience. "Just take them off." 

Harry doesn't waste any time, propping himself up to slide the material down your legs. You lift your ankles above his head to fling them off, then plant your feet back on the mattress and spread them wide open so he can resume. 

His mouth immediately latches onto your clit, sucking it, and his nose fits perfectly above it. You moan loudly, your back arching and your hands grasping his neck. You have to look at him now and watch him take care of you like only he knows how. When you do, it's like a sight straight from heaven. His brows are drawn in, his eyes shut, and his pink lips bring you pleasure in the most intimate way. 

Harry continues sucking before soothing his tongue along your entrance. Without warning, he removes his mouth and replaces it with his fingers. He dives two of them in, curling them in a way that makes you inhale sharply. His mouth occupies itself with kissing the inside of your thighs, biting little marks so you can remember this experience. 

The feeling of both his fingers and mouth is overwhelming, and your hand can't help but involuntarily pull his hair. 

"God," he mumbles against your thigh. "Do that again, baby." 

You pull harder, and a deep, raspy moan leaves his mouth. He begins kissing across your body while his fingers continue to bring you to your peak. He adds a third as he nips your waist, his head exploring under your bunched-up dress. He props one arm up to hover himself over you. You look at him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted, and soft moans escape when he hits a particular spot. He smears a messy kiss on your lips, and you try your best to return it as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

An orgasm quickly forms in your lower stomach. Harry massages your clit with the pad of his thumb to bring you there, knowing your body and when you're about to let go like the back of his hand. He grinds against the bed to soothe his own arousal. He's been hard since your act in the car, having felt your thighs clench around his hands, his fingers so close to his favorite spot. He apparently couldn't help himself. 

When Harry hits that final spot that has you crying out, you arch your back and let go. Your eyes squeeze shut as you moan from the delightful pressure freely flowing out of your body. 

Harry places his mouth back on yours as you finish, removing his fingers from inside you and gripping your hips, leaving a coat of your arousal on the love bites left there. Your body is strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows and leave marks on Harry's neck. He grunts when you bite the sensitive skin below his earlobe and grinds against the bed once more, stilling and then shuddering through a fierce release.

Oh. He came from that one touch. 

He falls flat on the bed, cupping himself and breathing heavily. There's a damp spot on his shorts. It's a filthy sight.

"That was embarrassing. I'm sorry," Harry murmurs, his cheek pressed against the pillow. "I thought I'd be able to last." 

You brush some sweaty hair off his forehead. "It's fine. I don't have to do any work now." 

"Hilarious," he says monotonously. He suddenly jumps up from the bed and shuffles to the bathroom, confusing you. You hear him wash his hands and then turn on the jacuzzi. He returns with a clean pair of boxers and smoothly lifts you from the bed. Your dress covers your exposed state, yet it doesn't hide the slick feeling between your legs. The warm water will feel amazing. 

Harry gently sets you on the sink counter as the tub fills up. He grabs a washcloth and dips it under the faucet before cleaning you. It's comfortably silent, with only rushing water in the background. 

When the jacuzzi is adequately filled, Harry helps you stand and remove your dress. Once naked, you quickly go to the bathroom while Harry removes his boxers. He then leads you to the jacuzzi to sit down. When he climbs in, you cling onto him for a cuddle as sleepiness washes over you. Harry presses a button to turn the jets on. Everything feels so lovely.

"I can't believe you said yes," he says. 

"You knew I would. How could I possibly say no to you after a speech like that?" 

"Dunno. We're, like, together forever now." He rubs the ring on your finger. "Well, not yet. But when we actually get married, it's a lifetime with each other. It's wild to think about, but I want nothing more." 

"I get what you mean," you say, scrubbing the red lipstick stains on his neck with the pads of your fingers. "I want this with you too." 

When you softly rub around his lips, he kisses your finger and looks at you with disbelief. You pluck his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, then lean in to plant a truthful kiss there.

Everything with him is so simple. Every touch is meaningful. Every unspoken word holds the weight of a million words. Every laugh leaves you teary-eyed with a heart full of love.

He is pure love. What he gives so naturally is exactly what he is.

Once your skin turns wrinkly and the water becomes lukewarm, you and Harry get out and dry yourselves off. He retreats to the bedroom to grab pajamas. When he returns, you put on an oversized shirt and walk out of the bathroom after draining the tub, running toward the bed and bellyflopping on it like a kid. Harry shuts the bedroom light off and flops beside you, letting out a long and blissful sigh. 

"I'm hungry," he says.

You snort. "You ate a million peas not even an hour ago. How are you still hungry?" 

"Sex makes me hungry. And stop making fun of my love of peas. Hey, can you get the cantaloupe? I'm knackered." 

His rapid change of topics makes you laugh. "Anything for you, pea boy."

You hear him faintly whine at your new nickname for him as you stroll into the kitchen. You open the refrigerator to grab a bowl of cantaloupe cubes and then return. Harry's eyes are fluttering shut, and his limbs are spread out on the mattress. You climb over him, sitting against the headboard, as he blindly reaches his hand for some fruit. He chews against the pillow, his cheeks squishing adorably. 

"Thanks," he mumbles with his mouth full. 

"Mm-hmm. I'm going to sleep. I'll put the bowl on the nightstand for you." 

Once you've moved the cantaloupe, you scoot down and lie on your back. Harry keeps reaching for the bowl without moving his head, sometimes missing entirely and waving his hand around to find it. You eventually close your eyes, a smile making its way to your face when you realize you'll wake up tomorrow as an engaged woman next to your future husband.

Harry finishes all the fruit in the bowl and then turns off the lamp. He tugs you against his chest, and you exhale happily, his warmth effortlessly pulling you under into a deep sleep. 

—— 

Two Weeks Later 

After situating yourself in the airplane seat, you pull out your phone and open Instagram. You and Harry are on your way back from Italy. It was an unforgettable two weeks together, and not one day went by without you making new memories. 

You had told only the closest people to you about the engagement—your parents and Harry's. No one else knows, so you decided to announce the news with an Instagram post. You wanted to wait until after vacation to worry about making phone calls and giving details about how it happened. 

Now, you start creating a post on the fourteen-hour flight to California. You already know what picture to use—Harry cutely holding a bottle of wine along the lusciously green countryside, ready for a picnic date in a park. Also with an impressive mustache. Throughout the ten days after the engagement, Harry decided to grow his faint mustache into a full-fledged one. You don't know how it grew so fast, honestly. You also didn't know how to feel about it at first, but you're accustomed to liking it now. It makes him look mature. 

How it feels between your thighs—well, that's a story for another day.

Harry has chosen to post a picture of the ring, gleaming brilliantly in the pink velvet box. And with him being the artsy, moderately strange social media poster, he had to add something extra to the picture—a paint swatch. Both of you spontaneously went paint shopping one day when you got bored in the villa. You had been talking to him for months about redoing the bathroom at the house, so you went to a local paint store to look at different options. Harry, being the sentimental and cheesy man he is, suggested painting it the color of the ring box he proposed with. You remember thinking the diluted pink would complement the white tiles and granite counter of the master bathroom perfectly. 

You couldn't possibly refuse the idea, especially since it would always remind you of that special evening on the beach.

You had searched with him to find a color that resembled the box, all while goofing around and laughing at the bizarrely specific names of the swatches. You pointed to a light green swatch appropriately named Peapod and told Harry he should paint the kitchen that color since he loves peas so much. He pouted at you and dramatically walked down another aisle. Typical. And so sensitive about his peas!

Harry is sleeping beside you, his head snugly settled on a pillow propped against the airplane window while soft snores escape his mouth. You'll wait for him to wake up so you can both post at the same time. As for now, you rest your head on his shoulder to also take a nap. Harry stirs and drowsily slaps his hand onto your knee to keep you close.

You'll miss Italy's golden sunsets, good-natured people, and ethereal views. However, the thought of going home and beginning a new chapter with your fiancé doesn't sound too bad. 

Bliss, in all its glory, takes hold once again.

——

[silentwhispofhope]

Ok so i saw the jealous vash but.. How about a jealous reader instead? She gets pouty and a little bit insecure after seeing a girl flirt with Vash? Or it can be the way Maryl looks at vash.. i dunno :)

A/N: I may or may not have spilled boiling water on my side while at work today. That 4% of Italian genes really came in clutch. No blisters or anything! Also, mentions of drinking and alcohol!

Jealousy (Reversed Scenerio)

Your head rested against the cool tile of the bar, watching the tiny bubbles in your beer float up to the foam. You gave the glass bottle a flick out of annoyance.

“What’s up with you?” A voice from behind you asked. You turned your head towards the tanned man.

“Just… tired, I guess,” you lied, giving a small smile. Wolfwood stared at you for a second. The weight of his eyes made you uncomfortable and you quickly went back to staring at your drink. The alcohol was finally starting to hit your system. What number was this now? Three? Four?

“Yeah, sure,” he replied as he sat down next to you.

You simply hummed in response, giving the bottle another flick. You had come to the bar to drown out your sorrows. What you felt wasn’t good. It made your heart freeze, and it felt like it could shatter any moment. You didn’t like feeling like this. You didn’t like having your heart strings pulled at.

Green was such an ugly color to wear on your sleeve, but it hurt to see how Vash stared at Meryl. It hurt that even though you had known him longer, he never once looked at you that way. It hurt that you were only seen as a friend in Vash’s eyes. It didn’t feel fair. Were you not enough? A dramatic sigh from the undertaker broke you out of your moping state.

“You look pathetic like that.”

“I know,” you quietly chuckled to yourself.

You shifted upwards and quickly downed what was left of your drink. A hiccup popped out of your diaphragm. As you went to wave the bartender down, Wolfwood grabbed your hand. You turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. Quickly, you slipped your hand out of his.

“What?” You asked, annoyed.

“Don’t do something you’re going to regret.”

“I’m an adult. I know how much I can drink.”

Wolfwood stared at you, and you stared back, squinting your eyes. Another hiccup jumped out from you. You let out a groan, knowing that action just proved his point. The undertaker gave you playful flick between your eyebrows.

“Ow!” You jumped and quickly gave him an impish shove. Wolfwood barely moved an inch before giving you his signature cocky smile. “God, you’re awful.”

“Oh, how ever shall I make it up to you?” He sarcastically replied.

You thought for a second. “Lollipop.”

“Huh?”

“Lollipop.” You made a grabbing motion with a hand. “I know you still have some.”

“That wasn’t an offer.”

“Lollipop or I get another drink.”

The black-haired man rolled his eyes, but went searching for the candy in one of his pockets. Several seconds later, he pulled out a lollipop with a blue wrapper and handed it to you.

“Thank you,” you told him, swiftly popping the candy into you mouth. You gave the undertaker a real smile. Unbeknownst to you, blue eyes had been watching the two of you.

[jevilowo]

Tf2 never doing a saint patricks day themed update is a missed opportunity tbh I'm a firm believer in Irish Heritage Scout (hes from boston therefore hes either irish or italian) and the americans would EAT THAT SHIT UP because they're obsessed with us when they're not accusing us of being drunken idiots.

My only ideas for tf2 patricks day update is like

Irish jig taunt

Leprechaun fit for Scout

Free green warpaint for all players on the day

New gun for Heavy literally just he deserves a new gun no matter what the update is I swear Spy has like twice as many guns and people forget he has any ooh call the Heavy gun something Irish like Aoibheann (ay veen) or Caoimhe (kwee vah) or Siobhán (shih vawn) that would pop off

Comic where Scout annoys everyone about Irish Culture and accuses them of being hibernophobic if they tell him to shut up. Meanwhile Spy is moping because he misses his wife tails he misses her a lot.

As an irish person I think this would be banging however many other irish people may not so um maybe it's for the best they never thought of this.

[lenoraah]

𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴

pairing - dennis hauger x reader

summary - reader and Dennis decides that even though they’re not together, they can still surprise each other on Valentine’s Day + named best friend action

a/n - this man doesn’t get enough love

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I am not letting you mope around on Valentine’s Day again, you understand-”

Olive pauses as she walks into the couple’s apartment. She thought that while Dennis was gone that Y/n would be moping around wearing one of his sweatshirts and scowling while eating a tub of ice cream.

“What is going on?” Olive is left with a dumbfounded look on her face as she sits down on the couch.

Y/n has a giant grin on her face as she grabs two cans of sparking juice out of the fridge while humming.

Olive holds in a breath as she looks around the living room. There is vase of roses on the counter and coffee table. The heart vintage heart shape snow globe that she had gotten the couple is sitting on the window sill next to the strawberry candle.

Y/n is wearing beige linen pants and a baby pink sweater with a heart on the middle. The expression on her face makes Olive open her mouth with no sound coming out.

“What?” Y/n asks as she reaches for the TV remote.

“Why are you so happy?” Olive replies as she squints Serendipity being turned on instead of 10 Things I Hate About You or The Notebook.

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day and I will not let it be ruined again just me and Dennis aren’t together.”

Oh wow.

“You know what, good for you.” Olive pats Y/n on the back before opening her drink.

“I know,” Y/n smiles as she leans against her best friend’s side with a sigh.

The two get the middle of the movie before Y/n’s phone starts ringing. The sound makes both of them scowl as Olive pauses the movie and Y/n answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi baby, where are you?”

The sound of Dennis’s voice makes Y/n smile like an idiot. She twirls a piece of hair around her finger and Olive rolls her eyes.

“Home, with Olive, watching a movie.” Y/n leans the couch as she watches her best friend eat popcorn whiling listening to their conversation.

“Okay, I left something for you in my nightstand drawer. I got it for you a couple-” Dennis gets cut off by someone speaking in Italian. “I got to go, love you. I’ll call you soon,”

“I love you too,”

Y/n looks at Olive with her mouth open just a little before the brunette shoos the y/h/c girl out of the living room and into the couple’s bedroom. Y/n waste no time running into her bedroom.

Olive unpauses the movie and keeps sipping her drink before hearing an excited shriek.

“What? What is it?” The brunette spins her head around as Y/n runs back into living room.

Y/n holds a stuffed bunny in her hands with a pout on her face. Olive squints to see the petite gold watch around the pink bunny’s arm.

“Olive, look.” Y/n shoves the bunny in Olive’s face and Olive nods.

“Yes, very romantic, now please stop reminding me that I’m single and that you and Dennis have one of the most cheesiest relationships I know of.” Olive teases as Y/n unclamps the watch and clasps it around her wrist.

“I know, I know, ugh he’s too sweet.” Y/n says as she notices the engraving on the inside of the watch. It’s her initials and his together. Oh, the cheesiness and sweetness at the same time.

“You did something for him right?” Olive ask as she watches Y/n admire the watch with the bunny cuddled against her chest.

“Um, duh.”

————————————————————————

“Delivery for- Dennis Hauger.”

“Uh, thank you.”

The delivery man raises an eyebrow as he hands the confused Norwegian a bouquet of white roses with a card attached.

“Long distance?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Dennis smiles as he thinks about Y/n.

He thanks the delivery man before closing the door and squinting at the roses.

What was happening.

Dennis leans against the counter as he gently lays the flowers in the marble countertop. He carefully takes out the card without untying the flowers.

He can’t keep but smiling like an idiot as he reads the letter.

Dennis sighs as he gently touches the petals of the roses.

Here he was, thousands of miles away from his girlfriend. Unable to be with her and hug her.

But you know what, they’re making it work and that was that. That was they needed. A little sprinkle of affection and love.

And they both know that they were going to have so many moments together. So many Valentine’s Day to spent together and so many holidays.

They both knew that.

Dennis smiles faintly as he reaches for his phone, just can’t wait to hear Y/n’s voice.

[sithbvcky]

CHARADE

Inspired by the film "The Man From U.N.C.L.E", after learning of your estranged father's nefarious ties to an underground organization, you find yourself caught in the middle of two enemy spies and a whole lot of trouble. Bucky x Female!Reader. Warnings: Language, typical spy violence Word count: 642

PROLOGUE

ROME

You arrived in Rome arm in arm with the strange man you’d met a few days prior. He was stern and quiet. A man of few words. You checked into the beautiful hotel, Sam following behind you a few hours later. You and the man, who’d you learned you were to call James, had been sitting in the lobby when he arrived. A few moments after, James took your arm again and lead you out of the hotel for a stroll through Rome. As a young couple visiting Italy would do. You admired the engagement ring James had given you on the way over. It was a sparkling little diamond, you had to admit you liked the way it looked on you. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, as you walked down the Spanish Steps. James replied with more emotion than you’d heard from him, 

“The same place every architect goes when they visit Rome.” He started. “To see the sights.” He waved his hand before him.

“So Mr. Architect, I’m sure you’ve done your homework. Why don’t you tell me a bit about the steps?”  You pulled your arm from his as you reached the bottom of the steps. Stopping to face him as you waited for his response. James looked around awkwardly for a moment before beginning,

“Good question.” He paused, moving to keep walking as you followed at his side. “The steps were constructed in 1723, credited to Italian architects.” He stopped, as you stepped forward onto the border of the fountain. 

“Really, built by a Russian.” He stated proudly. You shot him a look and he continued. “Sergei Ivanov. Sergei also had his mother, Yagada, who introduced him to classical architecture. Whom, he revered as his muse. Unfortunately for Sergei, his mother died in the middle of construction. So! In memory of his beloved Yagada, he made one step to commemorate every year of his mothers life.” His finished, a proud smile on his face. 

“So she died as 135?” You asked. James blinked, 

“No. She died at 100, he was 35. So, 135 steps.” He crossed his hands behind his back as you glared at him.

“Impressive.” You paused a moment. “So she gave birth at the age of 65?” The smile slowly began to fall from James’ face. 

“No.” He muttered, defeated. 

Not a moment later, Sam rolled up on a yellow moped and stopped, pretending to look at the fountain. 

“Evening Comrade.” Sam said. James frowned, 

“You’re not supposed to be making contact in public” 

“You’re being followed.” Sam stated, ignoring James completely. You looked over in interest. 

“I know, two men from the hotel lobby. One in a brown suit the other in a leather jacket. Which is why you should leave.” James retorted with annoyance. 

“They diverted when you turned down the steps. So, I imagine they’ll be waiting ahead for you.” Sam continued, once again ignoring James’ concern. 

“I will handle them.” He said. 

“Handle… just to avoid any confusion, you do mean give them your wallet and act scared.”

“Scared?!” James protested, glaring at Sam. 

“What’s going on?” You asked, sliding up to the other side of James. 

“You’re being tested. Someone is trying to make sure that your fiancé is really an architect, and not someone who’s trained how to fight. Ex-KGB agent for example.” Sam explained, staring off at some distant object.

“I said you are not needed here.” James growled, staring daggers at Sam.

“I think you should do as he says.” You chimed in, tapping your foot uneasily. James met your eyes for a moment then rolled them before looking back to Sam who began to speak again. 

“And remember, take it like a bitch.” He smirked. 

“This is not the way.” James grumbled, grabbing your arm and pulling you in the opposite direction of Sam. 

Tags:

@mostlymarvelgirl

[russolover]

Labyrinth II

Second part to Labyrinth I :)

"I'm sorry I should've never said something"

The words circled your mind as you were laying face-down on your couch. You should've never said something, who just decides to tell their best friend that they're in love with them?

Her shocked expression was more than enough for you to know her answer. The way her once loving eyes looked at you in utter disbelief made your heart clench. You couldn't even depend on your best friend to carry you through your heartbreak since she was the one breaking it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone ringing, you didn't look at the caller ID to know it was probably Keira or Georgia trying to make sure you're alright.

"what?" the muffled sounds of your voice rang through the phone

"Y/n stop ignoring my calls I-" the voice of your favourite blonde came through your phone rather anxious. You immediately sat up with your eyed wide open. As much as you loved hearing her you could not do it right now, the soaring pain in your heart was only growing stronger the longer you listened to her.

"I'm sorry less" you whispered as you ended the call

You would be lying to yourself if you weren't feeling like shit for treating her like this but this time you had to protect your heart.

Apparently alessia got the memo as she tried to give you space the next few days, which was getting harder everyday since you were on camp now with the lionesses.

You and alessia always used to be rooming buddies but this time she requested to be put with tooney, it stung in your heart that you drove her away from you like this. But how were you able to stay in a room with her after that night?

The tension between the two of you could've been cut with a knife and if it were for Keira or Georgia they probably would've. Even the rest of the team were sensing that something was going on.

"we can't just let them mope around like this" Georgia sighed as she sipped on her coffee

"I don't get why Y/n doesn't talk to her, its so clear that less likes her back" Keira replied in the same tone

"but why didn't she say something when Y/n confessed?" the younger girl asked

"Imagine me or Leah telling you that we've been in love with you for months-

"gross" the tatted girl gagged which earned her a slap from her ginger friend

"I'm just saying that she was probably in shock" Keira replied as she started typing something on her phone

"well they won't talk to each other on their own.. I wish we could just lock them up in a room together and make them talk" the midfielder said mindlessly as she drank the last bits of coffee in her cup

Keiras eyes went wide at the idea

"G you're a genius" she smiled brightly while getting confused looks from her friend

Unknowingly to you, Keira and Georgia set up a whole plan to get you to finally talk to alessia and this had to start with tooney getting the blonde into the storage room.

"Less I swear I put it in one of those storage rooms" Ella mumbled as she tried to find the room where Keira adviced her to get alessia in

"why would you ever put your boots in there" she grumbled at her already knowing something was going on

"Sarina told me to just put them anywhere- AH there it is!" Ella jogged over to the room as she went inside

Alessia followed her into the darkened room, the only light inside was from a small light bulb which looked like it was hanging on its last thread.

"tooney I can't find anything did you-

"Sorry less but you will thank me later" Ella shouted as the door behind the blonde got locked

"wha- ELLA OPEN THE DOOR" she screamed as she hammered against it

"what is even happening" the Italian mumbled confused as she sat down on the ground leaning her back on the wall. She tried not to concentrate on the smallness of the room by taking slow breaths but that could only do so much.

A few second later alessia could hear mumbles in front of the door and before she knew it, Y/n was pushed into the same little storage room as the blonde was.

You didn't even see alessia in the room as you started cussing out Keira and Georgia through the door.

"you too hm?" you jumped at her voice as you slowly turned around

"what are you doing in here?" you asked confused

"tooney locked me in here, you?

"G and Keira" you mumbled as you sat down with some distance beside her

The silence was growing thicker by the second and you could sense that something was going on with the blonde next to you. The situation you two were in aside, her breathing has been getting more erratic by the second.

"less are you okay?" you asked quietly as you watched her chest rise up even quicker now and she couldn't stop biting her lip

she only nodded as you tried to figure out what was going on but then it clicked

Alessia was claustrophobic and you two were undeniably in a very small room. You moved opposite of the blonde taking her hand into your, trying to ignore the effect it had on you.

"It's okay I'm right here" you whispered soothingly as you drew circles on her hand

The blonde took a moment to close her eyes and control her breathing before she opened them again. You looked at her intently for any indication that she's been feeling better. You've missed looking into her pale blue eyes like that.

You watched as her pupils grew the longer she was looking at you and how you automatically gravitated towards her.

"please stop ignoring me when we leave this room" she said sadly as your heart stung a little

"I just needed some space.. after that night.. less I shouldn't have-

"You didn't hear me out" she interrupted you which made your heart stop

"what?" you asked perplex

"You didn't give me the opportunity to tell you how I feel about you" she said straightforward

"I just assumed-

"Yeah you assumed Y/n, but you didn't want to listen because you expected the worst. If you would've just given me a second to process everything you would've known that I've loved you since the bar incident" your heart started making summersaults at her confession, you couldn't get a word out even if you wanted to.

At the same time you got flashbacks to the time you were acting like alessias girlfriend to get rid of one of the guys that were hitting on her. Your longing touches felt a bit too real to her to be just friends.

"I just knew in that moment" she whispered as she started caressing your hand

Was that how alessia felt when you told her? as happy as you were you felt bad for shutting the blonde out completely.

You pulled the blonde into your lap as you cupped her cheeks

"I'm so sorry for shutting you out I should've listened to you" you mumbled as you stroke her cheeks softly

"I guess that's why we're in a room" she mumbled making you chuckle

Your heart bursted with love as you were looking at the Italian on top of you. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you gazed into her eyes, knowing what was about to happen.

The Italian pressed her lips onto yours, sending shivers down your spine as you reciprocated the kiss. You smiled into the kiss as you tasted her strawberry chapstick and tried to pull her even closer, if that was possible.

Her hands softly caressed the back of you neck as you deepened the kiss by slipping your tongue in, catching her by surprise. The blonde sighed at the feeling of warmth you were giving her. If it was up to you, the both of you could've kept going but you were stopped by three heads sticking into the room with big eyes and smug grins and as much as you hated them for interrupting the moment you were glad that those three were the reason you and alessia were making out in a storage room in the first place.

[faretheeoscar]

(143)

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x gn!reader

--Warnings: Nothing more than Nathan being a pain in the ass and some sexual innuendos, fluff by Nathan standards--

Also this drabble is so very nerdish from my part, it started as a blurb in my head when I started learning coding lol

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Word count: 600~

Dividers source: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Blue is reader

Green is Nathan

#include <iostream>

int main() {

    std::cout << "// You work so fucking hard. Lunch?"

    std::cout << "// Nathan, seriously? You hacked into my work just to ask me out?"

    std::cout << "// Not hacking if it's my own software"

    std::cout << "// Whatever, I’m busy" << std::endl;

changeText.addEventListener("click", function() {

  changeText.textContent = "Text has been changed!";

});

    std::cout << "// Come on!"

changeText.addEventListener("click", function() {

 override

changeText.addEventListener("click", function() {

  changeText.textContent = "Text has been changed!";

});

    std::cout << "// Nathan, STOP disrupting my work, please?"

    std::cout << "// I will stop if you have lunch with me"

    std::cout << "// Not gonna even entertain you, I have a lot of things to work on and I have to finish them quickly"

    std::cout << "// You need to stop being so stubborn btw... you’re too tense... you’re gonna have an aneurysm or something if you don’t take a break...and have lunch with me?"

    std::cout << "// NO, let-me-work!!" << std::endl;

    std::cout << "C:\\Users\\Bluebook\\Documents> del \"code_file.txt\"" << std::endl;

    std::cout << "Are you sure (Y/N)?" << std::endl;

    std::cout << "Y:" << std::endl;

    std::cout << "C:\\Users\\Bluebook\\Documents> del \"code_file.txt\" Successfully deleted"

    std::cout << "// DID YOU SERIOUSLY DELETED ALL MY WORK OUT OF SPITE?"

    std::cout << "// Not spite, you needed a break. Now you have one."

    std::cout << "// Unbelievable"

    std::cout << "// Now, lunch?"

    std::cout << "// No, fuck you"

    std::cout << "// Tempting..."

    std::cout << "// ..."

    std::cout << "// 0——->"

.

.

.

   std::cout << "// That was a dick btw"

    std::cout << "// I’m actually quitting now for real…"

    std::cout << "// Like hell you are…"

    std::cout << "// Come on, don't be so sensitive, Jesus Christ" ;

    std::cout << "// You just deleted all my week’s worth job .l. "

    std::cout << "// Stop moping about it, I have a backup"

    std::cout << "// Then restore it" << std::endl;

    std::cout << "// Not until you have lunch with me."

    std::cout << "// I'm calling the chopper and packing my things…"

    std::cout << "// WAIT, fine! I’ll reinstate the code… you big baby."

    std::cout << "// I was just joking, ffs" << std::endl;

 

   std::cout << "C:\\Windows\\System32\\Bluebook\\Documents> rstrui.exe" << std::endl;

    std::cout << "Files successfully restored"

    std::cout << "// Happy now?"

    std::cout << "// Asshole."

    std::cout << "// Is that an invite or a statement?"

    std::cout << "// Take a wild guess."

    std::cout << "// Worth the try…"

    std::cout << "// Now, are we done with your temper tantrum? Can we eat now?"

    std::cout << "// I can’t stand you..."

    std::cout << "// So is that code for Italian or sushi?"

    std::cout << "// Sushi..."

    std::cout << "// I'll tell the droids to start preparing it then"

    std::cout << "// Okay, I’ll be down in 5 minutes just don't fuck with my work again?"

    std::cout << "// I promise, but only if you let me fuck with something else later ;)"

    std::cout << "// Fine…"

    std::cout << "// Can you indulge me in something else?"

    std::cout << "// You’re really testing me here"

    std::cout << "// For science?"

    std::cout << "// Be the sushi table?"

    std::cout << "// I’ll go get undressed…"

    std::cout << "// Fuck yeah! (143) <3 ."

    std::cout << "// I love you too" << std::endl;

    std::cout << "C:\\Windows\\System32\\Bluebook\\Documents> Save" << std::endl;

    return 0;

}

143 in coding means “I love you” btw <3

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

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[peppermintpillz]

Been thinking of this for awhile, but I think they’d all be the perfect found family :D

I have some silly ramblings under the cut if you’re interested in some of these dynamics!

Little Mac & Mario- They’re both Italian, so I think it’s be neat if these two were loosely related, with Mario being Mac’s uncle. They’ve already been connected canonically (with Mario being the ref in MTPO and the Punch Out Pizzeria in the Mario Movie) but I think it’s MORE than just coincidence. My hc is that Mac had a pretty rough home life (which is a WHOLE other hc I’ll talk about another time) leaving him under the custody of Mario, as they both lived in the same city at the time. With Mario’s job of being a boxing ref, there were some days where he took Little Mac to work, which is what initially inspired him to start his career in boxing. The only reason WHY the WVBA allowed Little Mac to box being underaged is because Mario bribed them to allow Little Mac. (Mario is also canonically a shitty ref so he probably wouldn’t mind allowing Mac to break the rules)

Aran Ryan and Little Mac- He was shunned by his family after losing twice to Little Mac, even while cheating. He was already living in his younger sister’s shadow most of his life (again another hc I’ll elaborate another time) so he decided to cut most ties with his family after he lost his matches with Mac. With having nowhere to go, he tries to drink his troubles away and mope in his sorrows. Little Mac and Doc eventually catch wind of the aftermath of Aran, and they try to take him in. (Little Mac does it out of sympathy, Doc just goes along with it since Mac wants to help out) While reluctant at first, Aran eventually warms to to Mac and Doc, seeing Mac as the younger sibling he’s always wanted.

Aran Ryan and Bald Bull- Aran was normally ostracized from most of the boxers due to his demeanor, however the only other boxer seemingly as crazy as Aran was Bald Bull, and the two managed to bond with each other (despite their issues with communicating with others) Although the two don’t like to admit it, they enjoy talking to each other and actually have some common interests (I think they’d both like drinking, fishing, and taking care of animals). Aran also has been able to confide with Bald Bull, as I hc they’ve both had difficult experiences with their families, so Aran usually goes to Bald Bull to vent/get advice

Bald Bull and Doc- It’s been somewhat implied that Bald Bull and Doc knew each other prior to Little Mac’s career. (Most theorize Doc actually trained Bald Bull when he was a newbie boxer, which h think is neat) After he looses to Little Mac, Bald Bull gives up boxing, as it fed into his anger issues. As he starts his journey with fixing his anger, he tries to rekindle his friendship with Doc, with the two becoming close once again.

[zeravmeta]

absolutely fully respect the pokemon masters canon of cyrus literally held at the ear for his redemption in the sense that he feasibly can just enact his world reset plan but because hes on Friendship Therapy The Island he is pouting in a sunchair with a drinkable coconut in hand and all his former enemies are happy to see him and he Can't get mad about it because that would obviously mean giving into his human spirit and thats bad and he'll be damned if he lets those kids see him like this. all while hes goth married to cynthia (begrudgingly (mutual)) and the only friends he as a 28 year old has are either literal ten year olds that he is smug about looking cool to, his cult army of idiot followers that he acts like a nanny to, or the italian mafia boss (and the italian mafia boss' gang of other bosses) he maybe had a fling with once?

all that said. i still utterly adore platinum/generations cyrus where he was so mad about being able to be mad that hes still malding in the distortion realm and he hasn't left since. literally everything is pushing him to a redemption arc right at the very end but LIKE HELL will he ever admit that maaaaaybe the wider concept of human emotions weren't the problem and he just needs some normal ass therapy. giratina likes its new roommate though! way nicer than the other blond arceus guy who screamed at him and called him a coward :(. his skeleton is in the corner though cyrus so dont worry about tripping on it. if platinum ever gets a proper remake cyrus will be one of the villa npcs and he will literally just mope around in akaris house. someone give this man a job he has 15 phds and gifted kid burnout syndrome.