Romans & histoires Hetalia 2p Italy

The boys wriggled excitedly beside her, strapping themselves in with Alessandro’s help. "Mama, Mama," Matteo chirped, tugging at her sleeve. "What's Italy like?" "Is it big?" Antonio added, his brown eyes wide. Antonia laughed softly, smoothing their hair back from their foreheads. "Italy is beautiful," she said. "There are old cities made of stone, and streets that wind like rivers. There are mountains and oceans and vineyards as far as the eye can see." "Are there toys?" Matteo asked seriously. Antonia smiled wider.

Not in Italy. Right?

As she gazed at it, panicked creeped into her chest and she stumbled forward, But the chains dragged her into the wall again, and her knees scraped the stone floor. A bruise opened across her shoulder where her blouse had torn open, the ends hung by their threads. Her eyes darted around, fear started to settle in her chest. She didn’t know where she was, nothing was familiar. Fuck, she was in Italy, of course nothing was like New York. Then whispering voices soon filled the room, just outside the heavy wooden door. “Vorrei che il capo ci facesse assaggiare la ragazza. Ho sentito che la figa Americana ha un sapore diverso” (I wish the boss would let us taste the girl, I heard American pussy t

TWENTY-ONE CAMILE By the time it was the weekend and we had to leave Italy, I couldn't even remember the number of orgasms Kael and Arlo had wrung from my body. And each one more soul-shattering than the last, leaving me raw and sated in ways I have never imagined. Italy had remade me, not just with scenery and gelato-sweet distractions, but through the relentless way these two powerful men… two powerful Alphas claimed every inch of me.

My head lolled back, a moan escaping my lips. "Cazzo, micio. Anche la tua figa sa di fragole." (F*ck, kitty. Even your p*ssy tastes like strawberries) I understood the gist of the statement given the mention of 'p*ssy' and 'strawberries'. The dirty Italian pushed all reservations to the wayside. Bracing one hand on the couch, I slid the other into his hair. I ran my blunt nails across his scalp and felt a shudder ghost down his back.

“You are something I stand beside.” That was better. He kissed my forehead once, then got out of bed. I watched him dress. White shirt. Dark trousers. He moved with calm confidence, like a man who knew the room belonged to him. “You’re serious,” I said. “I am always serious.” He buttoned his sleeves slowly, then looked at me. “Tonight,” he added, “Italy will understand.” I did not know what that meant. But my heart was already beating faster. By evening, the sky over Amalfi was soft gold. The sea looked calm and endless.

She followed behind him until she saw him on his phone speaking to someone and he was looking side to side as if watching to see if anyone was listening to his conversation. His eyes landed on her and he quickly ended the call and put the phone into his pocket, putting on a fake smile as though everything was ok but she was not going to fall for it. Placing her hands onto her hips like a true Italian woman, Signora Meta walked up to Ricardo. Even though Ricardo was taller than her she looked up at him ready to beat him up and put him in his place.

The deep masculine voice says from the call end. "Hello Pablo." He says with a slight grin on his face. *NOTE: The Italian language would be interpreted into English, in brackets.* "I received your offer and Lo adoro (I love it)." William smiles, "I'm glad you do, so do we have a deal?" "Of course we do. Considerami il tuo compagno di vita (Consider me your life partner.) William chuckles, "Thank you Pablo. Tu fai la tua parte e io farò la mia.(You just do your part, and I’ll do mine.)"

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as her composure cracked. I hated it when she cried. Her tears upset me, made me want to hurt every damn person that hurt her. But now,Iwas theone hurting her, and while I still felt like a piece of shit, I needed to fight those unexplainable emotions and look past them. “Uno Italia,” she said, looking up at me to clarify. “One Italy. Papa wants a Colombo-Rossi alliance. That was the plan all along. He…he set me up to marry Luca, to secure our legacy—”

he whispered. (The taste of your dream) She whimpered. Her hips lifted. “Dominic… please…” He smiled against her thigh. “‘Please’? (Ancora non hai imparato?”) Please? Haven’t you learned yet? He kissed her inner thigh. Then the other. Then dragged his tongue up the curve of her hip, slow, before stopping just before her cunt. (“Chiedilo in italiano.”) Beg in Italian. She was shaking now. Her voice broke.