#don massimo torricelli x reader

[multific]

The Storm Before the Calm

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Summary: A misunderstanding leads to days of painful silence between you and Massimo. Frustrated, you leave the estate for space, only to get caught in a brutal storm.

The silence between you and Massimo was deafening.

It had been days since your last real conversation, a simple misunderstanding spiralling into something neither of you had the patience or pride to fix.

You missed him, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But his cold indifference cut deep, and you refused to be the first to break.

Frustrated, you left the estate, needing space to clear your head.

The Sicilian air was thick with humidity, the sky an ominous shade of grey.

You barely noticed the shift, too lost in your thoughts, until the first raindrop landed on your skin.

Then another. And another.

Within moments, the sky unleashed its fury.

The rain fell in heavy sheets, the wind howling as you struggled to find shelter.

You were too far from home now, drenched and shivering, your stubbornness having led you into the heart of the storm.

Then, through the chaos, you heard it.

The roar of an engine.

Headlights sliced through the rain, and before you could even process it, the car jerked to a stop beside you.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Massimo.

His expression was unreadable as he stepped out, the rain instantly soaking his perfect suit.

His jaw was tight, his eyes darker than the storm itself.

“Get in the car,” he ordered, voice rough, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, but he was already reaching for you, his large hands gripping your arms as he pulled you under the shelter of his body. “You could’ve gotten hurt,” he murmured, his breath warm against your chilled skin.

His hands ran down your arms as if checking for any signs of harm.

“I didn’t mean to be out this long,” you admitted softly, watching as something in his expression cracked.

His grip tightened for a second before he exhaled sharply. “Dio, I’ve been going insane.” He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the rain—or maybe the tears you hadn’t realized had mixed with it. “You left angry. I thought-” He stopped, and for the first time in days, you saw it.

The worry. The fear. The cold expressionless eyes were now filled with every emotion.

“I wasn’t leaving you,” you whispered, pressing a cold hand over his racing heart. “I just needed to think.”

His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged.

“Then next time, think in the house. With me.”

You barely had time to nod before his lips crashed onto yours.

He tasted like rain and something more profound, like a man holding back far too much for far too long. And when he finally pulled you into the car, wrapping you in his jacket, you knew the storm between you had finally passed.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[namuhdasyrev]

Me patiently waiting for the next 365 days to come out so I can get more fanfiction of Massimo to read COZ i just know girls are gonna be crazy for him!

[ariesmadness97]

Him : “I'll take you to the candy shop”

So take me baby😏😏

[mrsavery]

OUR MIRACLE

Massimo Torricelli x Reader 

Warnings: None

Summary: You give Massimo the most precious Christmas gift that he always has wished but never got.

Word count: 1808

It had been exactly five years since your first Christmas together. Five years filled with love and happiness. The Christmas lights were dancing on the Christmas three, and soft music was playing in the background, as you walked through the empty house with a gift in your hands. It was for Massimo who, at this moment, was away for business but should be home in a few hours.

As you sat is down under the three and looked around the room, you could not stop smiling, knowing that one day things were going to change. You left the room and went to the kitchen, humming ‘All I want for Christmas is you’ under your nose. Since your husband was gone, the house felt empty and foreign, and you were counting hours until his return. The clock on the wall showed that it was only four in the evening, meaning that Massimo would not be home for another three to four hours.

You knew all about his lifestyle, about his work and family. It scared you at first, because you were afraid of his life not yours, knowing that every day could be his last. Never ever in the five years of being together you had been in danger, had been kidnapped or touched by others. Massimo had been doing everything to keep you safe, and he is keeping his promise.

You walked back to the living room and sat on the couch with a cacao mug in your hands. You will wait for your husband here and, while waiting, read a book that you have not been able to finish in a long time. It is a novel that Massimo gave you on your twenty-fifth birthday a few months ago. Your husband knows how much you love reading, and because of that most of his present are books.

One hour passes, then the other and soon you have finished reading the book. You put it in the bookshelf and return to your place on the couch. When ‘Last Christmas’ starts playing in the background, you close your eyes and let your mind take you back to your first Christmas together.

Massimo’s warm hands wrapped themselves around your waist, as he sat behind you on the floor. He put his head on your shoulder and inhaled your scent, like he always did. It helped him to calm down.

“Is everything alright?” You asked him.

“Si.” Massimo replied and afterwards kissed your cheek. “How was your day, farfalla?”

“I talked to my brother a few minutes ago.” You said and looked at the fireplace in front of you. The fire was dancing, and you felt Massimo shifter against you. “He said that my parents still cannot forgive me for leaving.”

Seven months ago, you left home, ran away from your arranged marriage and things that you knew. You were born and raised in a small town in west England where everyone knew everyone. There were two farms in your town, where most of the people worked. One was owned by your father, and the other was owned by the Carter family. They wanted to unite both farms, and the only way how to do it was by marriage. As the Carter family only had a son your age, and you were the first-born daughter in your family, you both were supposed to marry. Jonathan Carter was beautiful, but you did not like him.

You tried everything to get break the arrangement, even gave your place to your sister who wanted to marry Jonathan, but it did not give any results. Jonathan only wanted to marry you, claiming that you were the most beautiful girl in the town. Your brother, seeing tears in your eyes two days before the wedding, helped you to leave. You flew all the way down to Italy and started a new life there.

You missed your family very much, but the life was better for you here. If you tried to return… You did not know how it would end and did not want to find out. You had a new life here, a man who loved you and who took care of you. Massimo was giving you the world, but the pain in your heart did not leave easily.

You felt Massimo’s thumbs on your cheeks wiping away the tears that had fallen. “Everything is going to be alright.” You whispered and turned around to face your boyfriend. You got into his lap, wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed his lips softly. You looked into his dark eyes and whispered words that both never have told loud. “I love you.”

Massimo just smiled and kissed you back, this time with more passio. “I love you too, farfalla.”

You opened your eyes when your phone made a quiet sound. You took it in your hands and smiled because it was a message from your brother. He had sent a family picture of him, his wife, and their three years old daughter. You decided to call him in return, and your brother answered almost immediately.

“Hi, Merry Christmas!” You said with a smile.

“Merry Christmas to you too! Did you see the picture?” He asked. You could hear your niece’s laughter in the background.

“Yes, you all look amazing, when Massimo comes, I will show him it too.”

“Where is he?”

“Some unexpected things came up, and he was forced to go to the work. He should be back soon.” Your brother thought that Massimo owned a company and was CEO there. It was a partly true, since he owns a few companies around the world, but he mostly uses it as a cover, because truly he is a Don to the biggest mafia in Europe, but your brother did not need to know that.

“I will hope that Massimo comes home fast. I do not want you to spend the Christmas alone.” He said, and you heard pain in his voice. You have not seen him since your wedding that was four years ago, and both of you wanted to spent time together with your families, but never really had a chance.

“I will not.” You said and put a hand on your stomach. “Alice is growing up fast.”

“Yes, she is. It is like only yesterday she was born… I have been thinking about you and Massimo. You both are happy, but a little child would make things even better. You are already twenty-five, and he is, let me count… thirty-five.”

“We will think about it.”

“I have to go, [Y/N]. Mother is calling. Talk to you soon, alright? And give Massimo my greetings.” You were not able to reply, because your brother ended the call. You as well put your phone away and smiled when you looked outside the window and saw your husband’s car approaching. Massimo was finally home!

You stood up and made sure that room looks perfect, before walking to the front door. Before you could open them, Massimo beat you to it and smiled seeing you. “Hi, farfalla.”

“Hi, Massimo.” You let him take of his jacked and shoes before you ran into his embrace and kissed him with force. You had missed your husband all day, and you could not wait for him to open his present, because it was a tradition for you and Massimo to open presents on Christmas Eve instead of the next morning. “How did the meeting go?”

“I would have been happier to stay home with my wife instead of listening to them.” You chuckled at his answer.

“Nobody is perfect.”

“Only you.” Massimo said kissing your bare neck. “Can we skip presents and go up?’

You turned around and put hands on his chest. He was much taller than you, but the height difference had never been an issue for you. “After you open your present.”

He groaned. “Why does my present is so important? In my opinion, sex with my wife is more important than presents, because you are the biggest present that I have got.”

“Because after you open it, we will be able to go and celebrate.”

Massimo raised his eyebrow to you. “A celebration?”

You nodded and got out of his embrace. You walked to the tree and got out a little blue box that you had placed there earlier. “This is for you.” You said giving it to your husband. You sat down next to him on the sofa, as he slowly opened the present. Massimo undid the white bow tie, then unwrapped the blue wrapping paper, never leaving your eyes.

You smiled at Massimo when he opened the small carbon box in his hands and froze. He took out the white stick that was showing two pink lines and then looked at you. Massimo was too shocked to talk, and his tears were evidence of that.

It was a miracle that you were pregnant. Ten years ago, when Massimo was shot and his father was killed, he got the news that changed his life. He had survived an attempted murder but lost his chance to become a father. The chances of him becoming father were almost non-existent. Over the years he had reconciled that he will not have children, and once Massimo told you that you were free to leave him because of that.

You stayed, knowing that without him, you were nothing. Massimo came into your life as a savior, to save you from the darkness, but in the end, you saved him too. Doctors had said that chances were very low, even with artificial insemination, but you both managed to beat it all and become pregnant without trying.

When you saw these pink lines appear in the morning, you could not stop crying. It was a real miracle that you will always be thankful for. You and Massimo had talked about adoption, but it always ended with a fight and a make-up sex later. As much as you were ready to be a parent, you were not sure that you would be able to love a baby that was not genetically yours. There would always be fear that his or her real parents would show up and take him or her away from you. It would break you, so you both decided that it was not an option.

Massimo took his eyes off the pregnancy test and looked into your eyes that were full of tears too. “I’m pregnant, Massimo. We are going to have a baby!” It took him about three seconds to throw the stick on the glass coffee table and take you in his arms. You were wrapped in his large embrace and your husband’s wet cheek was pressed against yours.

“We are going to have a baby.” He whispered and put one of his hands on your flat belly. “A baby.”

You put your hand over his large one and said. “Our baby.”

farfalla- butterfly

[multific]

The Widow and the Don

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Summary: He came to offer condolences. He stayed to keep you breathing. But as the walls fall between you and Massimo, a darker truth about your husband’s death begins to surface.

Your husband’s funeral was a blur of black veils, cold condolences, and the scent of lilies so thick it clung to your skin for days.

They all told you how sorry they were. How tragic it was. How he died too young.

No one mentioned how afraid he’d been the last few months. Or how he’d wake in the night, soaked in sweat, whispering a name.

Massimo Torricelli.

You’d never met the man.

Only heard of him in whispers, in half-spoken warnings behind locked doors. He was your husband’s rival.

A king in his own right. Untouchable.

So when he showed up at the funeral, black suit, face unreadable, you didn’t know what to expect.

He brought no bodyguards. No condolences. Just himself.

And a single white rose.

He placed it on the casket and looked straight at you. His voice, deep and low, barely rose above the wind.

“I didn’t come to gloat,” he said. “I came to see if you were still standing.”

Then he left.

He didn’t reach out again. Not for weeks.

You thought that was it.

Until you opened your door one rainy evening to find him standing there with an umbrella and a bottle of wine.

You should’ve shut the door.

You didn’t.

You had tea the first time. Wine the second. Silence the third.

He didn’t try to charm you. He didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t dangerous. But there was something else behind his eyes, something wounded. Something honest.

One night, in front of the fireplace, you finally asked him.

“Did you hate him? My husband.”

He looked at you for a long time. Then nodded, just once.

“Yes. But I never wanted him dead.”

You believed him.

And that terrified you.

You didn’t mean to start needing him. But grief is lonely. Cold. Quiet.

Massimo wasn’t.

He didn’t speak in soft platitudes. He didn’t try to fix you. He just stayed, grounded, solid.

He brought you food when you forgot to eat. Stood behind you when you couldn’t walk into the bedroom alone. He listened when you broke.

And once, just once, he held you when you sobbed so hard your body gave out.

“I feel like I’m disappearing,” you whispered.

“You’re not,” he said. “I see you.”

It was inevitable.

The kiss.

It happened late, after too many shared glasses of red wine, when his hand brushed yours and you didn’t pull away.

He looked at you like he was waiting for permission. You gave it.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t violent. It wasn’t possessive. It was reverent.

As if you were holy.

But the truth didn’t stay buried.

You found it in an envelope hidden in your husband’s study—letters, threats, a deal gone wrong.

Massimo hadn’t killed him.

Your husband had planned his own betrayal. And it backfired.

You brought the evidence to Massimo, shaking.

He read it, then set it down carefully.

“I suspected,” he said. “But I didn’t want to be the one to show you.”

“And you didn’t think I deserved to know the truth?”

“I thought you deserved peace. Not war.”

The next morning, you packed your things.

He found you at the doorway.

“I’m not leaving because of the truth,” you told him. “I’m leaving because I’m falling in love with the man I was raised to hate.”

His voice was low. “Then stay.”

You hesitated.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

“So am I,” he said, stepping closer. “But I would rather face a thousand enemies than live one day without you.”

You stayed.

And together, you rebuilt, not just a home, but a life.

Years passed.

Grief faded.

Love didn’t.

Massimo never tried to replace your past. He just made sure you had a future.

One night, as you watched the stars from the same balcony where he first kissed you, he took your hand.

“I was your enemy once,” he said.

You smiled. “Now you’re everything.”

And he was.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[multific]

Twelve Hours in Naples

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Summary: After a misunderstanding, you board a train to Naples, believing Massimo is ending your relationship.

You didn’t say goodbye.

You couldn’t.

The words wouldn’t come, not with the way your heart was already broken into tiny pieces.

Lately, everything felt colder. His phone calls were shorter, his touches more absent-minded. And then you overheard it, his words meant for someone else, late at night. But you heard him.

“It’s better this way.”

That was all it took.

You packed quietly, left your phone behind, and boarded the last train to Naples.

A city far enough to breathe. A place where you can forget him.

The rain started somewhere around Salerno, smudging the windows with silver. You held your coat tighter around you and let the rhythm of the train dull the noise in your head.

Massimo knew something was wrong the moment he walked into your shared home and found your scent but not your presence. Then the note from the concierge, a casual mention of your train ticket, and the sickening realisation.

You were gone.

He wasn’t proud of the way he’d nearly broken his driver’s hand trying to reroute the car fast enough. Or the way he shouted down the station manager trying to hold the train. But it didn’t matter.

You were on it.

And if he didn’t reach you tonight, he wasn’t sure he ever would.

You stepped off the train into Naples just past midnight. The station hummed with late-night traffic and the soft hiss of the rails cooling. You’d almost made it to the steps when you heard someone yell your name. You froze.

The voice didn’t echo. It pierced like a knife through fog.

You turned. Massimo stood at the far end of the platform, rain catching in his hair, coat flung open over a black shirt, chest rising hard and fast.

He looked like rage.

He looked like heartbreak.

He looked like himself but broken open.

“You came,” you breathed, not sure if it was relief or pain.

“I never wanted you to leave.” His voice cracked as he approached, ignoring the rain. “Why would you disappear without saying anything? You just left.”

“I thought you were breaking up with me,” you whispered.

His brows drew together. “What?”

“I heard you, on the phone. Saying, ‘It’s better this way.’ I thought- I thought you meant us.” you tried your best not to break down.

His silence was a chasm.

"It was about a business partner. Someone who tried to betray me. "Not you.” He looked as though the breath had been punched from his chest. “Never you.”

Tears blurred your vision.

“I didn’t even take my phone,” you said, almost laugh-crying. “I just wanted space. But I kept thinking maybe you were relieved. Maybe it made it easier if I just left.”

“No,” he said, so fiercely it stopped you. “You think I’d let you walk away without a fight? You think I’ve spent all this time building something with you, only to let it fall because I said six words you didn’t understand?”

He stepped closer. “I would tear the world apart for you. And I should have told you that every day.”

You were crying before you could stop it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“So am I,” he said, reaching out.

You let him hold you. Let him pull you into him like he was trying to stitch the two of you back together with touch alone.

There was a desperation in his grip. A pleading in every kiss he pressed to your temple, your jaw, your cheek.

“I don’t want twelve hours,” he murmured. “I want every goddamned lifetime.”

The hotel room he found was small, warm, and quiet. There were no suits, no security. Just the two of you.

You undressed slowly like it was the first time. Like touching each other might end the ache still lingering between your ribs.

His hands were soft and strong.

Your lips were soft against the curve of his throat. You guided him between your thighs, bodies tangling under the sheets and whisper-soft sighs. It wasn’t urgent, or heated.

It was love.

Afterwards, you lay with your head on his chest, his hand playing with your hair.

“You’re not allowed to leave me like that again,” he said, voice rough with sleep.

You kissed his chest right on his heart. “Not going anywhere.”

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[multific]

Made for You

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Summary: In a world of power and betrayal, he stole you to hurt your father, but you stayed because he gave you a reason to fight back.

You always knew your life wasn’t your own.

Daughter of a mafia boss. Promised from the moment you were born. Groomed to be perfect. Silent. Obedient.

You wore luxury like armour, moved through your father’s estate like a ghost, and smiled for the man they swore would one day own you, a man with dead eyes and a cruel mouth.

And then came Don Massimo Torricelli.

He didn’t come with roses. He came with fire. Blood. Violence.

He stormed your family’s home in the middle of the night, masked men, gunshots, screaming. And you?

You were taken like a prize. Tossed into the back of a black SUV, blindfolded.

When the blindfold was torn away, he stood in front of you in, a dark suit, with darker eyes.

“This is war,” he said. “And you are the weapon.”

“I’m not a pawn.”

He smirked. “Then don’t act like one.”

You were locked away in his villa, gold and marble, guarded hallways, long corridors of silence and tension.

He never touched you. Never hurt you. Just watched.

He expected tears.

He got fire.

You refused his food for days. Smashed a glass on his floor. Called him a coward to his face.

He didn’t punish you.

He studied you.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said one night, voice low as he leaned against the doorway of your room.

You met his gaze. “Neither are you. I thought monsters had fangs.”

He laughed softly. “They do. But only when they’re hungry.”

More days passed. Then weeks.

Somehow, your prison started to feel less like a cage. He let you walk the gardens. Sit on the balcony. Read in his massive library.

He started joining you.

Not to control. Just… to talk.

You debated philosophy. Music. Literature. Politics.

And then one night—late, after wine, after hours of verbal sparring—you asked him the question you hadn’t dared before.

“Why did you take me?”

He didn’t lie.

“To hurt your father,” he said. “To send a message. To stop your marriage before it happened.”

You nodded slowly. “So I was leverage.”

“At first.”

His gaze held yours, steady and unflinching. “But now… now I wonder if I was the one taken.”

It changed after that.

He softened, just a little.

You laughed more. Ate meals together. Watched films. Read poetry by candlelight.

And one night, when your father sent men to take you back, Massimo killed every last one of them.

“I told them,” he said, hands bloodstained, voice trembling. “I told them not to touch you.”

You were shaking.

Not from fear but from something else.

The terrible, beautiful truth.

He didn’t just steal you.

He will protect you. From everyone, even your own blood.

“You don’t belong to anyone,” he told you the night he kissed you for the first time.

You looked up at him, breathless. “Then why do I feel like I was made for you?”

He groaned softly, forehead against yours.

“Because you were.”

Months passed. Peace came slowly.

Your father never tried again, Massimo made sure of it.

And when he got down on one knee, in the garden where you once tried to escape him, you didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Because love wasn’t supposed to come wrapped in gold. Sometimes, it came wrapped in fire.

And Massimo?

He was your fire.

Your home.

Your forever.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/