#damiano x reader

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 21: Brave Enough

Authors Note

Word count: 7.9k

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After an emotionally taxing conversation with his psychologist, Damiano decided to also stop smoking weed/otherwise consuming cannabis. It’d been too triggering, a reminder of all the reasons he loved coke and opioids. Admitting he wasn’t ready for parties or group gatherings was even more difficult. He loved his friends, his family, and going to Vic’s DJ gigs. He loved playing pool at bars or dancing to the deafening pulse of techno music in a club. These things allowed him to feel the hurried, bright energy of his youth. It was proving hard to differentiate between craving community, craving mania, and craving situations because he associated them with drug use. 

He also made a habit of exercising in the mornings, before treatment. The earlier he took his lithium and ate some protein, the better he tended to feel throughout the day. Routine made cravings easier to resist when he woke up with them and endorphins lessened the severity of his depressive moods.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” That's what you told Damiano when he debriefed you the next evening, a chip to mark 24 hours sober clutched in his fist. He’d disclosed his relapse in group and sobbed, despite hardy efforts not to shed a tear. You make dinner and stroke his hair when Dami lays his head on your lap. He’s cynical, not receptive to positive affirmation. Unfortunately, this mood has become more common as the years pass. So you focus on gestures: nicely making his bed, meal prepping his breakfast, cleaning the litter box even though it was his turn. 

Surprisingly, Damiano requests you read aloud some favorite passages from the books you’ve finished since the breakup. You’d always thought of that as an activity for your sake. Of course he doesn’t actually use the word “breakup.” Dami won’t touch that terminology with a 10 foot pole. He’s grumpy and lovable, snuggled under the pale pink bed sheet as you speak.

Dami returned the favor by waking you up with coffee, which became a tradition on weekdays. He probably got up 10 minutes earlier than necessary to do so. The first morning you thought it was a glorious dream. Instead of the abrasive and occasionally rage-inducing beep of your alarm, a hand you recognized as Damiano’s was rubbing your back. It slides under your t-shirt and gently strokes your spine. You shiver and hum in delight, then scooch closer. Eyes still closed, the bed dips and you sense Dami taking a seat on the edge. The morning light pours in through the curtains – to which you have your back turned – as the scent of espresso reaches your nose. Such sensory perfection must be fantasy.

“It’s time to wake up,” he murmurs.

“Mm mm.” You object and scoot closer, curling around Damiano. He chuckles and massages your scalp with his fingertips. 

“Big stretch,” he narrates as Cheeto rouses herself by his feet. You can tell it’s not Princess, since she’d be meowing by the bedroom door as soon as she heard Damiano up and about. Finally, your brain starts to register that this might be reality, since you never dreamed of Cheeto and Dami simultaneously. You open one eye and are accosted by the bright light, confirming that this isn’t a dream.

“Hey,” you croak, squinting up at him. “What time is it?”

“A couple minutes before your alarm. I turned it off.” You readjust, head, shoulders, and arms splayed across Dami’s lap. “I don’t think that counts as getting out of bed.”

“I’d like to contest that.”

“Getting out of bed in general or if laying on my lap counts?”

“Yes,” you sigh, eyes falling closed.

“Mm mm, keep ‘em open,” he requests, affectionately. You whine in protest and pout. More than anything, you want to pull Dami into the bed for cuddles, but it’d make you late for work.

“Fine.” Awkwardly, you flip onto your back to stare up at Damiano. He’s smiling, which is good motivation to keep looking.

“You’re cute when it’s too bright. You squint so hard that you get this little line between your eyebrows.” He runs his finger along your nose, then taps your cupid’s bow. You’d very much like him to keep going, gently stroking your features. He delicately moves the hair from your face and your eyelids grow heavy. Damiano tsks, working a hand between your mid-back and the mattress.

“Sit up. C’mon.” With a sigh, you detangle your legs from the sheet. “C’mon,” he coaxes sweetly. “When you’re ready to stop pouting, there's coffee.” Your feet land on the floor as Damiano helps push you upright. After a couple sips of espresso, your pupils adapt and the brain begins working. Dami remains seated, hand on your back, and you love that he’s content to just share space. Love that things don’t always have to be full of words and amusements for one another.

“Thank you, this is so nice!” You hug Dami with messy enthusiasm, leaning some of your weight against him. Damiano embraces back and kisses your head.

“I’m happy to do it, sweetheart.” His hand resumes stroking your spine, the other moving the hair from blocking your face. “Just stay awake.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, standing up and stretching. Dami doesn’t move, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of something. You want the physical affection to continue so badly that it hurts in your chest a little. So you give into an urge before thinking about it and sit on Damiano’s lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders. 

“Wha – hey there, sweetheart.” Aware of morning breath, you kiss Dami’s neck, hairline, and behind his ears. “Feeling a little touch-starved?” You nod. Slowly, he slides his hands under your shirt. By touch-starved, you hadn’t necessarily meant skin to skin. Damiano sneakily took advantage of an opportunity by reading into it and you certainly weren’t mad about his decision. 

Things start innocent enough, his hands rubbing your back, but then they move away from your spine. When stroking around your waist and hips, his fingertips brushed your stomach, pinky dipping underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts. Then those hands slide up, cupping your ribcage. You stop breathing, frozen with anticipation. Would he touch your breast? Would he slide his hand to the front of your chest and caress it in his warm, rough palm? Would he play with your nipples? Rub them with the callous on his thumb? Would he then slide his hand down your front and into your shorts? If he did, you’d raise your hips to give him room. Then you’d trap his hand against your pussy and grind. Did he want to tease you today or make you moan? Or make you cum? 

When you check his expression, Dami’s eyes are glued to your heaving chest and erect nipples. Knowing that he’s hard, you throw a leg over and straddle him. Then you scoot in as close as possible to rest your weight against his erection, stimulating both of you. Damiano’s eyes flutter and his hands escalate from stroking to grasping. You wait for him to make the nest move, but he doesn’t.

“If you could do anything –”

“If I could do anything you’d be underneath me and too wracked with pleasure to say anything but my name and the word please. If I could do anything the neighbors would be filing a noise complaint and you’d be on probation at work for repeated tardiness. If I could do anything we’d have already gone through a bottle of lube and half a dozen sex toys. Our clothes would be on the doormat, panties included because last night we fucked against the front door as soon as you got home. Then again on the kitchen counter and again in front of the bathroom mirror and a fourth time in the shower, which was all a preamble to what I’d do to you in this bed.” 

You look over his shoulder at the mattress cover and twisted sheet. You’d gotten in the habit of sleeping on Dami’s side. It hadn’t actually smelled like him for months.

“What would you do?” he asks.

“I…I have to get ready for work.” You try to climb off his lap, but Damiano holds onto your waist firmly.

“Did what I said offend you?” he pressed.

“No,” you reply breathlessly. The moment is deliciously intense, especially the way he’s staring.

“Overwhelm you? Turn you off in some way?”

“Uh, no. Well, maybe overwhelm a little bit…”

“In a bad way?” Dami hasn’t forced the issue in terms of sex since coming home.

“In a good way.”

“Then what would you do? If you didn’t have to get ready for work.” You pause and look down. “We don’t have to actually do it, at least not right now,” he whispers.

“I would – I want you….Um, you’d play with my nipples.”

“Mhm.” His hand slides up your chest and rests on your sternum.

“Then you’d put – push your hand down my front.” Dami obeys, his fingertips stopping at the waistband of your shorts. You stare, willing him to go further with every ounce of your being.

“Does my hand go under your shorts?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Does it go into your panties?”

“Yes.” His real hand doesn’t move. “Between my legs so I can…Actually, I kinda wish that I was just wearing a t-shirt so I could pull your pjs down and grind against your cock. And then, maybe…”

“Mhm,” he encourages.

“I’d take off my shirt too and rub my nipples against your chest until they were sore. Your – your sweaty, hairy chest. And you’d hold me like you weren’t worried about scaring me away. Really grabbing me, like you were confident, but also because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Show me what you mean,” he demands.

“I – I can’t. You just have to.” Dami grabs a hold of your upper thigh with his free hand and flips both bodies. Your back lands on the mattress, arms and legs already wrapped around him. Damiano pushes you further onto the bed, so he has room to climb on top.  It would take less than a minute for you to both wiggle out of your clothes then locate a condom and lube. Probably closer to 30 seconds. It's the same sensation as the makeout two mornings ago. You wanted to say yes, but your self preservation instincts weren’t letting that happen.

Damiano searches your wide-eyed expression for decisiveness and finds nothing of the sort. He can see you thinking about it. Then he sees you over-thinking it and knows that this will not be the moment you feel comfortable enough to trust freely.

“Like this?” He’s panting, as well, and for some reason, that's unbearable sexy. Dami isn’t putting on a facade. This borderline chaste amount of physical contact has got him worked up, too. You almost kiss him, then recall your morning breath and cover your mouth.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“Y/n, I don’t give a good god damn whether or not you’ve brushed your teeth. I don’t care!” Dami loses his cool, but quickly recovers it. “I – sorry. Sorry, let me…” He walks his hands backwards and climbs off the bed, then helps you stand up.

“Thank you for the coffee,” you repeat, taking a long sip, that way a response won’t be expected. As you slip by Dami to leave the bedroom, he gives your butt a little squeeze. It was once a regular gesture in private, but he hadn’t taken this type of initiative since getting sober. You whip around with an impish smile, the mug nearly held to your lips. Damiano’s expression is watchful, then validated. He was testing the waters and your reaction basically invited him to jump right in.

Rather than refocus on his own routine, Dami watches you assemble a lunch while still in pajamas. He stands on the edge of the kitchen, pondering something, admiring you.

“Whatever your timeline for physical intimacy, I will respect it, 100%.”

“I know that, Damia.” You wash and fill your water bottle. He leans his hip against the counter with crossed arms. 

“But if you're waiting for things to feel not scary with me, that day may never come. Our history isn’t gonna get more palatable.” You hadn’t considered things from that perspective before. “Part of a nurturing relationship is pushing each other, challenging restrictive thought patterns.” Damiano moseys over. First, his right hand cups your hip. Then, the left rubs the side of your glute languidly, before wrapping around your middle. Dami holds you casually, but still body to body, standing behind you at the kitchen sink. Each exhale ruffles your hair, a reminder of how much you’d missed this. Dami’s wandering hands and desire for closeness.

This must have been another thing you blocked out for survival, since an awareness of what once was made losing it lethally painful. You’d forced yourself not to remember and now the remembering felt like the first first bloom of spring after a frosty winter. 

You lean against Dami, let his shoulder take the weight of your head. Then you lay your left arm over his, fingers lacing together.

“And I don’t want to push past your boundaries, but at the same time…” He leaves tender kisses down the column of your exposed neck. “This definitely exceeds a hand holding level of intimacy. It breaks the no couple behavior boundary –”

“Me and my fucking rules,” you groan. Repeated back, you sound certifiable, even from an understanding Damiano.

“This certainly qualifies as sexual touch.” His pinky and ring finger dip under your waistband as he dips into a whisper. “But I didn’t ask first and I don’t have to ask now, either, because just your body language is telling me how much you like this.”

“Forgot until just now.” With an even more dramatic groan, you turn around to meet his eyes. “Ugh! I know I’m shit at this –”

“Not what I was saying, at all,” he interrupts, thumb brushing your cheek. “I was just gonna suggest using a Listen for My No system of consent instead of Wait for My Yes. But that's such a sexually aggressive thing to suggest on someone else’s behalf that I…” He makes a face, nose scrunched up.

“But I agree with you. I’d like that, I really would, but, um…” Dami’s expression goes from relieved back to uneasy. “When I submit, I can’t usually access the decision making part of my brain. Kinda the point, actually.” 

“Baby, we never do anything in subspace if we haven’t agreed to it first.”

“I know, but I’d feel –” You gesture erratically, but the right adjective never surfaces. So you settle on “shitty, I guess.” Avoidant, you stare at the floor in anticipation of Dami’s reaction. Of course, Princess is right there, biding her time for the inevitable moment that all this attention is rightfully turned to her. “Sassy Pants,” you coo. She rests her front paws on your shin and meows, so you pick her up.

“Y/n, I never want you to – awe, look at the fur baby.” Damiano gets distracted by Princess, who uses you like an elevator to his shoulder. She leaps onto him and Dami winces at her claws through his thin t-shirt. “Ow, ow, ow. Thanks for that Sassy Pants, now get off.” He sets Princess back down where she stares at him in betrayal.

“I’m sorry, was having him to yourself all night not enough attention?” You sass her right back with a hand on your hip while Dami laughs. The cat sulks, nimbly returning to the couch and curling up right on his pillow. “Do you see that? She’s the real reason we practice non-monogamy. So I don’t end up with my throat slit in my fucking sleep by her murder mittens!” Hoping to have successfully distracted him, you brush your teeth then slip back into the bedroom to get dressed. In the living room Dami sings to Princess, doing a little dance with her paws. The happy sounds carry through the partially ajar door.

“So, uh…” You’d almost finished pulling on your stockings when he leans against the door frame. “Sorry, am I allowed to look?”

“Yes, you’re allowed to look,” you scoff. He turns the corner just in time to watch your thighs disappear beneath a linen skirt. His lack of objection indicates that your earlier distraction wasn’t effective. He’s not feeling playful.

“What I was saying before is that I never want you to feel bad about putting parameters –”

“Damia, it’s not that.” He’s trying to soften the determination in his expression. “If I allow my rational mind to just slip away then I’m gonna…” again, words evade you “embarrass myself.”

“What do you mean embarrass yourself?” he croons. Damiano walks into the bedroom, cupping your cheek in his right palm. Meanwhile, his left hand slides across your waist and settles on the top of your glute. Another barrage of hidden memories: the early years when Damiano spoke your self-confidence into being fruition on anxiety-ridden mornings.

“I mean grind against your lap or leg or whatever while begging you to fuck me until I sob in a way that’s gonna hurt you to watch. Zero inhibitions as I try to convince you, okay? Just babbling and clinging and tears for your cock. ‘Daddy, my heart hurts because you won’t make love to me.’ I don’t want either of us in a position to navigate that.” Damiano becomes a statue. When it doesn’t immediately pass, you decide to pick a pair of sensible shoes while his brain resets.

“Does your heart hurt for more intimacy?” Now you’re the one frozen in place. “Seems like you may have just accidentally been completely honest with yourself.” Fuck. He was right.

“Could you pretend not to know me as well as you do?”

“No, y/n, I can’t.” You’d tried to lighten the mood, give yourself an out, and he’s rejected that effort wholesale. Damiano stands there, waiting for a real response, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. Every morning he puts them on, after sleeping in his boxers, to make you comfortable. It suddenly feels so elementary, this game of pretend you’d been playing because you were scared shitless of losing him again. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a nervous wreck.”

“Being a nervous wreck about what?” You’re taken aback, having expected some sweet platitude like "don't be sorry, sweetheart.” Or perhaps, “You’re trying your best in a tough situation” punctuated by a kiss to the forehead. But you’d finally exhausted his patience and Damiano wasn’t going to feed you reassurances that you already knew to be true.

“About,” you gesture between your bodies “us!”

“Elaborate for me, please. What about us?” His tone isn’t hostile, just insistent.

“Our relationship.”

“Not my sobriety?”

“No…actually.” You’re even more surprised than Dami at that answer.

“Good. Why is our relationship making you a nervous wreck?”

“Because, because…” You feel cornered even though he hasn’t moved an inch. “I’m not sure.”

“Yes you are. You’re constantly reflecting and self-examining, especially recently. Some days you’re more in your head than you are in the world.”

“But the last couple days, I’ve been better at staying in the present. After our fight, I’ve been trying not to walk on eggshells.” 

“And we’ve been so much more connected, which has been fucking incredible. But you’re still unhappy.”

“I’m not…” Were you happy? You should be happy. You have an objectively good job, a beautiful apartment. You have a loving family, loving friends, loving companions. Your soulmate has returned and he’s stable. But were you happy? With a subjectively horrible job, home full of traumatic memories, emotionally unavailable parents, fading friendships, and companions who’s reassurance couldn’t make you feel adequate so you’d stopped asking for it entirely. 

“How many months do I need to go without relapse, without a crazy mood swing, without –”

“To get your dick wet?” You snap at him in anger. This was the definition of pressuring you.

“For you to trust me, y/n!”

“But sex is the way to show that I trust you? Go get laid, Damianno. Stop avoiding your other companions because you’re afraid they won’t forgive your behavior.”

“You get laid. Stop avoiding your companions because they remind you how profound our intimacy could be.” For what feels like an eon, you glare at each other in silence.

“How about we both admit that having sex with other people wouldn’t do anything to fill this…space?” It feels good to concede. Most of the tension leaves the air.

“Void?”

“Void is probably more accurate, yeah.” It’s just enough breathing room for reality to set in. “Fuck, I’m gonna be late for work.” You look around frantically for a hair tie to wrangle your unbrushed hair into an updo.

“Can you please just give this conversation another five minutes of your time?” There's a hair elastic on the floor, by your nightstand. You make a noise of victory, trying to remember if your travel hairbrush was still in the glovebox. “Three minutes?” he pleads. It’s too much. Mentally, you try to check out as an act of self-preservation. In your peripheral vision, Damiano snatches your phone off the bed. You can’t leave without it.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m asking how long until you can trust me?”

“For me to trust you completely?” That gives Dami pause. He seems to realize that it's a pretty big question to spring on you before 9 AM. ”Check the phone you’re holding hostage for the time, please.” So begins the hunt for your purse.

“It’s…” With a strained voice, he looks at the home screen. Then his hand drops to his side. “It doesn’t matter. I am asking you – How about when are you gonna be able to at least trust that I’m not gonna abandon you?” Despite attempts to create space between yourself and this moment, it feels like being stabbed with a dull spear, right through the center of your torso. “Hey!” he finally raises his voice in exhasperation. “Can you at least fucking look at me when I’m bearing my soul to you!?” Both cats are hiding under the kitchen table. Standing in the kitchen, you turn to meet his gaze.

“I’m gonna be late for work.” 

“Then be late! You hate that job anyways!” The shock reads easily on your features.. “I – that was out of line. Sorry. But this is never gonna work right until you trust me.” Your stomach drops. You feel nauseous and something akin to the beginnings of dissociation. This is why you’d been avoiding tough conversations. What if it went wrong? And if it did go wrong, what was going to happen? The ways Damiano had evolved as a person since going to rehab were great, but it also meant that you couldn’t predict his behavior anymore. If he walked out in anger, would he walk back in?

“Baby, that was really bad phrasing on my part.” His tone shifts completely,  soft and doting in the way you’d expected it to be earlier. “Way too extreme.” Dami knew he’d scared you. That took precedence over what he so desperately wanted to achieve with this conversation. You have half a mind to run into his arms. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s gonna make me feel reassured that you won’t abandon me.”

“You don’t know, as in you can’t think of anything?”

“I don’t know!” You curl your hands into tight fists, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

“Giving me an answer you regret and take back would be better than this purgatory.” Demand has officially overtaken supply. You’d required so much patience from Dami that it’d burned through all the categorical gratitude he felt for taking him back in any capacity. He was no longer just grateful to be here, he wanted a partner. 

“If your answer is I don’t think I can ever trust you again, so be it.”

“I can trust you! I do trust you, but you’re also…” He’s hanging on to every word and you can’t even craft a basic sentence. “There’s you, but then there’s also an addict you. The first one earned my trust back more easily than I’d care to admit, but the addict you, he – it’s always there.”

“And you can never trust an addict.”

“No! But, but –” The phrase “never gonna work” rattles around in your head. “No, because…because” then we might break-up. You barely think the thought, but it's like a tripwire. Suddenly trapped under all the ways you could lose Damiano. Originally there were two contenders: freak accident and growing apart. Then fame was added to this list, then addiction. Now you had to acknowledge a fifth. Like the fifth side to a cage that can finally hold you captive, invisible to others, making them helpless to do anything but watch the light leave your eyes. He might break-up with you because you couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces back together.

“Hug me.” Damiano crosses the apartment in a few quick steps. The stinging of tears distracts you from returning the embrace, but that doesn't give him pause. The only reason you weren’t blubbering already was how secure he’d made you feel the past few days. Now that was out the window.

“Continuous hugging or do you want room to breathe?”

“Breathe,” you choke, wiping your eyes. Dami’s version of breathing room was taking half a step back and resting both hands on your hips. It was perfect.

“Be brave a little longer,” he coaxes.

“I don’t want us to…God, it’s like saying Voldemort or some shit.”

“The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named that starts with a ‘B’ and ends in the word ‘up?’”

“Yeah, I…No, I don’t even want to talk about it, Damia.”

“That's adorable.” You rest your forehead against his sternum and whine. He cups the base of your head and you loosely cross your arms behind him. “But I do need to know what made you think of The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named.”

“What if,” you resume hugging him instead of finishing the sentence. “What if I can never learn to trust the addict part of you and it happens?”

“I don’t trust the addict part of me, y/n. After everything that’s happened, I sure as shit don’t expect you to.” You pull away in order to look up in confusion. “Awe, sweetheart. I just need you to trust that this part of me has control over that shithead.”

“But relapse happens and – and you’ll always be an addict and an alcoholic. This is permanently a part of you.”

“Can you trust that I’m always gonna do my damndest not to lose control? And if I do I’m gonna find my way back?” 

“It hasn’t even been three weeks.” Dami opens his mouth, closes it, and nods.

“Yeah thats a fucking good point. Damn.” He’s reeling. It’s interesting to see it happen to someone else. “I’m over here fuckin’...demanding to know when you’re gonna trust me again when I haven’t even given you a full month of stability.” You place a hand on Dami’s cheek, trying to redirect his gaze back to yours so he doesn’t get lost in self-loathing. He turns his head, but looks down. “I’m fucking comparing ‘well, I feel this way about her so –’”

“How do you feel about me?” His eyes flit up and you think the romantic in him might win.

“I feel the same way.” Or not. “Because it's easy to fall in love with somebody again and trust them again when they’re the same person. When they don’t have all this new baggage like I do.” Staring at his feet, Damiano mutters, “Nothing to compensate or…”

“You do not need to compensate, what a ridiculous thing to say!” 

“Okay.” You watch him only partially internalize your words, in the same way he raises his eyes, but doesn’t quite look at you.

“Hey, you getting sober created new character traits that I love and am attracted to.”

“Enough to balance out the shit?” You scoff, taken aback.

“Yes! You’re not a fucking equation, Damia. You are a beautiful, compelling man who contains multitudes with this incredible capacity to create multitudes. Don’t separate yourself into these categories of worthwhile or not worthwhile.”

“Y/n.”

“It’s so linear. You’re reduced to a collection of likable traits when –”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he announces. You allow yourself to be pulled in by the back of the head, eyes falling to his mauve, shapely lips. It’s sweet, slow, polite. It’s a gesture. It’s a this-kiss-conveys-my-love-and-respect-because-it's-not-the-kiss-I-wanted-to-give-you gesture. It’s a gesture that reveals he’s forgotten the comment you made earlier this morning.

“Lets,” one syllable and you feel short of breath. “Let's have the big scary talk tonight – tomorrow night! Let's have it tomorrow night.”

“Alright.” Damiano coaxes you back in by holding your chin and brushing his pointer finger back and forth. It tickles faintly and makes you smile into the equally chaste kiss. “Don’t forget, you have therapy today.”

***

“I’m only here to avoid the missed appointment fee, honestly.” You slouch, as if trying to disappear into the chartreuse loveseat. 

“Oh?” Your therapist puts pen to paper and waits for elaboration. You stare at the floor and feel the pressure of tears behind your eyes. It's been like that since leaving the apartment, as though you were one inconvenience away from crying.

“Your disposition is certainly much different from our recent sessions.” Dr. Borough gives you another chance to speak, which you don’t take. She’s wearing all beige, minus an oversized necklace of reflective black beads. The color palette certainly suits the mood.

“Is it Damiano, work, anxiety that's been weighing on you?”

“All of the above.” After arriving 13 minutes late for work, Izolda called you into her stuffy, windowless office. She chastised you for being tardy twice in two weeks and you didn’t have the balls to point out that she’d personally excused the first instance. There were vague references to your performance review and callous comments about “allowing personal experiences to impede project outcomes.”

“Wow. So it's been a tough week?”

“It’s been emotionally laborious…So, yeah. Tough, I guess.”

“But productive?”

“Not when it comes to my job. That place is so devoid of humanity that I can feel part of my soul dying.”

“Sounds like you might need a change. Have you tried searching for –”

“I can’t handle a career change right now!”

“So what can you handle?” Finally, you burst into tears. “Oh, dear.” Dr. Borough pushes the box of tissues across the coffee table. “So what's going on in the other facets of your life? Are you and Damiano on good terms?”

“Yeah. He woke me up with espresso this morning, it was really sweet.” You wipe your face, which leaves a black smudge of hastily applied mascara on the white tissue.  

“And his sobriety?”

“He relapsed trying to reintegrate too fast. It was just booze and he’s been sober since.”

“Wow.” She scribbles on her notepad. “So that must have been triggering.”

“It…It actually made me realize how sturdy he is. Like, he got right back on the wagon and he started really acting like himself the next morning. He didn’t go back to being an asshole with a passive death wish, he did the opposite.”

“So that sounds like great news!”

“I was such a mess, such a fucking mess.” The note taking intensifies. Somehow Dr. Borough is already halfway down the page. “He was so supportive! And he basically confronted me.”

“You mean comforted?”

“No. Well, yes. He’s noticed that I’m always in my head, trying to figure out the correct or most true course of action. And he said I didn’t need to be, because I wasn’t going to ruin his sobriety. Because he was taking care of his sobriety with a bunch of people at his rehab and stuff, so I didn’t need to prioritize it anymore. I could just prioritize myself and I could depend on him because he’s gotten to a point where he can be my support and also stay sober. But I –” you devolve into sobbing.

“Alright, take a moment. Just take a moment, y/n.” Dr. Borough doesn’t look up from her notepad for several seconds. “So, that's huge! How many days ago was that? You must be emotionally drained.”

“Yeah, from not dealing with it.”

“You’re emotionally drained from purposefully ignoring emotions?”

“Basically.” 

“Alright.” Visibly processing, Dr. Borough adjusts her teal glasses and sits back. “Tell me about that.”

“Damiano just keeps pressing the issue. He wants to deconstruct and cross-examine the whole fucking situation immediately.” 

“Is this usually the case, him pursuing hard conversations and you avoiding? In the past, you’ve mentioned having great communication.” It feels like an accusation that you’ve failed Damiano somehow.

“No, I’m just not ready.”

“Ready for what?” 

“These fucking exhausting, weighty conversations!”

“What about them are you not ready for? In my experience, you can be very articulate, especially when it comes to emotions.”

“I’m not scared of talking about our feelings. We talk about our feelings all the time, anyways. I’m not even scared of conflict. We’ve fought twice this week already!”

“Oh, really?”

“But we work it out because we can admit that we’re wrong. We don’t get off on resenting or controlling each other.”

“What were those fights about?”

“This! Me!”

“You?”

“Ugh!” You throw your head back and groan. “He…thinks that I’m unhappy. I’m making myself miserable trying to do the right thing or by trying to control…something, us.”

“The right thing?” She raises one thinning eyebrow. 

“What's best for me.”

“Doing what's best for you is doing what makes you happy. It’s doing what makes you fulfilled, puts you on the path to achieve your goals.” Dr. Borough pauses, staring at you pointedly. “In terms of Damiano. What are your goals? What will make you fulfilled?”

“Being together for real, harmonious, mind, body, and soul.”

“And are your current choices facilitating that?” You feel claustrophobic, fingernails digging into the heel of your hand again. “Why the anxiety?” 

“Because I can’t control him!”

“True. But that’s always been true, y/n.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter what my goals are if the other person doesn’t feel the same.”

“You think Damiano doesn’t feel the same?”

“Well, no. I know he does.”

“Alright. So let's talk about this desire to control him.” That definitely felt like an accusation. “I just watched you have a strong reaction. Why don’t you explain that to me.” Pen to paper, Dr. Borough waits while you roll your eyes and huff in annoyance.

“Before I ever stepped foot in this office, I knew that the desire to control another person was toxic. I was already taking steps to ignore that desire when I felt it.”

“So you’re not trying to control him? That's not what's making you miserable?”

“I’m not miserable,” you bite.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “But you are experiencing bouts of unhappiness, like right now. You also have clinical anxiety which constantly affects your quality of life. Agreed?”

“Yeah…” The section of carpet at your feet is more worn than another other spot in the room.

“Explain to me why that is.” You choose to be insolent instead of introspective. 

“It’s impossible to tack down exactly what collection of innate and external factors contribute to any one person developing –”

“Not the anxiety, y/n.”

“I…” don’t know. But Dr. Borough wasn’t going to let you off the hook. She waits expectantly. You check the clock to find that the session isn’t quite halfway done. Damn it.

“Why are you unhappy?”

“I’m at my therapy appointment when I’d much rather be taking a nap.”

“How has your sleep been since Damiano’s relapse?”

“Worse than usual, better than expected. We…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t judge me, but the night he relapsed we slept in the same bed. Like, I slept with him on the couch.”

“‘Slept with’ as in…?”

“Cuddled.” You blush all the way up to your ears.

“And that was enjoyable.” It’s apparently obvious from your delivery since Dr. Borough makes a statement, not a question.

“Yeah and…I could hear him crying so hard. I didn’t intend to spend the night there either, but I got sleepy really quick.” A stinging sensation alerts that you’d been picking at your cuticles without realizing. “Because it felt so safe.”

“Huh. So it didn’t feel like the kiss on the plane?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why are you unhappy?” You glower, finally meeting Dr. Borough’s eyes. She is unfazed. “Damiano has the same relationship goals and it sounds as though he may be ready to act on those goals, right?” You don’t protest, because she’s correct, but you also don’t concede. “So this should be great news! It’s exactly what you wanted, which is why this reaction raises questions. I know it’ll be hard to admit, but maybe now that you have Damiano back, you’ve realized that your feelings towards him have changed.”

“What? No! God, I fucking wish I felt more casually about him. I wish that he couldn’t read my mind and that we didn’t have this fucking soul bond and that I could have a halfway satisfying sex life without him. I want to stop watching him sleep, getting choked up when I see his bougie shampoo in the shower, huffing his dirty gym clothes, and feeling like my heart’s been ripped out because I love him so much. I want to be less in love with him!”

“No, you don’t.” Dr. Borough sets the notepad and pen on her lap and settles into her chair with a smile. There’s been some sort of breakthrough or resolution reached. “So what's the real reason you’re self-sabotaging? Do you feel like you don’t deserve him?”

“I…guess.”

“Don’t guess.”

“Deep down inside somewhere, probably.”

“So is that it?”

“You’re the therapist.”

“And you’re far from emotionally repressed.” Dr. Borough purses her lips and squints. “So are you afraid of losing him?” You swallow hard, vision blurring with tears.

“Yes, of course. Now with these fucking high stakes conversations, what if something goes wrong?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything!”

“Based on what you've said so far, it sounds like you guys would work it out.”

“What if we break up?”

“Does it feel like you’re going to break up?”

“No.” You blow your nose and steel yourself. “I need him. I’ve let myself need him again. So I can’t, ca – can’t lose hi – him again. I can’t! It’ll fucking kill me. I don’t care if you think that's dramatic, because it genuinely feels like I’d die of heartbreak. Even thinking a – about it, can’t – I ca – ca –can’t breathe!” Dr. Borough ends up talking you off the edge of a panic attack. You think that’ll earn some slack, but it doesn’t. 

“Okay, so just take small sips of water.” She uses her most soothing voice as you hold the paper cup in a trembling hand. “I’m going to be candid with you, y/n. Breaking up has always been a possibility and you’ve functioned despite it for years. Damiano dying of an overdose, however, is new. I think that’s what’s scaring you, the fact that death is irreparable.” You manage a nod. “Alright. That risk factor is never going away. So you have to decide if he’s worth it.”

“Of course he’s…” It's reminiscent of what Dami said this morning, which forces you to acknowledge that he was probably right. Putting the pieces back together was going to feel terrifying and you had to do it anyway. “I have all these rules to stop things from progressing before I’m ready. But maybe I’m never going to feel ready.”

“Progressing?”

“To stop Dami from getting too close, from things getting too intimate. I compartmentalized so damn much and I…every time I let him a little bit closer, it's like being hit by a semi-truck.”

“Reminders of his substance abuse?”

“No, beautiful memories of how our love manifested, all the ways we connected and felt at home in each other, felt profoundly understood. Memories of being joyous and intimate and becoming better people together.” Dr. Borough is noticeably moved. 

“You choose to close yourself off to that because of the possibility of pain?” 

“Yes!”

“That’s not living.” Finally, someone had just outright said it. You should feel stunned, but you don’t. “We’ve talked about living versus surviving in terms of your anxiety. The same can happen after trauma. Seeing Dami on life support –”

“Haven’t we already talked about that enough?” Reflexively, you make yourself smaller, hunkering down to survive this horrendous topic.

“I don’t know. Based on this reaction –”

“Based on this reaction, seeing my soulmate an inch from death is still traumatic? Shocking!”

“Traumatic, absolutely.” The even tonality of her speech is an embarrassing juxtaposition to your reactivity, but you’re still unable to quell it. “And based on your reaction, that memory still holds tremendous power over you.”

“Of fucking course it does! I still can’t even think about it like a real thing that happened to me!”

“I recall you’ve been dealing with a lot of dissociation, recently. More than usual.” Dr. Borough resumes note taking.

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because I can’t handle what's happening around me,” you reply, monotonously.

“You think you can’t handle what's happening around you because a parentified, 15-year-old y/n without an emotional support system couldn’t handle it.” She pauses. In that space, tears blur your vision until the view of the damaged carpet and scuffed shoes becomes indiscernible. “But now you have an emotional support system. You are deserving of an emotional support system, which is something that your parents failed to model in your childhood.” Again, Dr. Borough gives you space to speak, but you curl into a ball, instead. She nudges the tissues further across the table with an empathetic expression. “So you’re protecting her.”

“I am not protecting my mother,” you grumble.

“Not your mother. You’ve been protecting 15-year-old y/n, shielding her. And now you’re protecting the y/n who was confronted by the mortality of her support system’s keystone. Neither of them could handle the present moment, but you can.” Dr. Borough cleans her glasses while waiting for you to say something. Maybe it's an intentional respite from being examined.

“What – How can –” your first reaction is to splutter incredulously. “I’m not, I mean I’m – That's just human development, isn’t it? Burning your hand on the stove teaches you not to touch a hot stove. Burns are bad. They scar, they get infected.”

“Y/n, you are not avoiding a burn. You are eating takeout for every meal to avoid going in the kitchen at all. You are putting on noise canceling headphones everytime someone says the word ‘stove’ and singing to yourself loudly. In this metaphor –”

“I get it, I get it.” Well, shit.

“You’ve heard me say this before: the anxiety, the trauma isn’t your fault. However, coping constructively is still your responsibility. And, yes, that’s unfair. You had to live for your emotionally unequipped parents. In reaction to that hospital visit, I think you may have done a bit of living for Damiano when he was emotionally unequipped for sobriety. Now you’re living for the versions of yourself that are emotionally unequipped to handle the present. But it won’t break you like it might have then.”

“How can you know that!? How…I just want time to recover! I want to be certain!”

“There will never be certainty and there will never be a pause button. I know that's a really hard reality to face with clinical anxiety.” Dr. Borough sets her elbows on her notepad and leans forward. “But y/n, face it you must.”

***

You hold it together on the drive home. Knowing that Dami will be on a Zoom call with his songwriting and production team, you don’t want to walk through the front door a mess and distract him. Unfortunately, Spotify decides to play Folklore-era Taylor Swift as you pull into the parking garage.

I knew you/Hand under my sweatshirt/Baby, kiss it better

By the time the car is parked, you’re already crying. Your first group outing as a couple was a Roma football game with most of his friends and several cousins. The omnipresent barrage of screaming made your ears ring and triggered a panic attack. You tried to suppress your reaction, for which you’d finally receive a diagnosis just weeks later. When that became impossible, you settled on concealing your emotions until it passed. Just don’t freak out. For fucks sake, don’t embaress yourself. 

Having turned your focus inward, the roar of the audience was a surprise and so inescapably loud that it couldn’t even be described by volume. The sound became a tangible force, beating you over the head. So you fled, hands clamped over your ears, tears flowing. It seemed like every person you passed chided you. 

“‘Msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry,” you repeated, voice frail and high-pitched with terror. The adrenaline at least made climbing all those steps easier. Upon reaching the hallway at the top of the staircase, you turned around to scan the field, determining it was a good time to drop your hands. That's when you saw 18-year-old Damiano huffing and puffing, all focus dropped from the game behind him. 

“Hey,” he panted, expression confused. “Hey, you just…Are you okay?” You shook your head, mouth contorted into an ugly shape. “Well, come here, baby.” Dami opened his arms like it was obviously the next logical step to hold you. The gesture revealed that he’d remembered your purse and was wearing it. You could have blurted out “I love you,” right then and there. His sparkling, empathetic eyes framed by smeared eyeliner, outstretched hands decorated by gaudy rings, and wearing his lucky sneakers which were at least a size too small. A couple middle-aged, balding men looked him up and down in disgust. Dami didn’t even notice.

“You need a hug,’ he decided, wrapping you up. 

“Thanks,” you croaked, trembling arms finding steadiness where they held him. 

“What’s wrong with her?” asked a male voice passing by.

“Nothings wrong with her! Who the fuck are you, eh?”

“Sorry, man.”

“No, who the fuck do you think you are saying that?”

“You’re in the middle of the walkway, dude.”

“And you’re in the middle of my fucking business, asshole!”

“Damia,” you murmured.

“Sorry, sorry.” You wondered if he could discern your smile against his pilling jersey. The fabric made your face feel raw after exposure to the ruthlessly cold gusts of wind that swept up the sides of the stadium. Still, you felt compelled to hug him tighter, but ignored the compulsion so as not to encourage Damiano acting like an attack dog. But fuck if it hadn’t made you feel chosen at age 18, coming from a family who’s attitude was god forbid your emotions inconvenience anyone. 

Damiano didn’t think you were too emotional, the girl choking on her own tears over a football audience being predictably loud. He stood in the stadium’s walkway, inconveniencing everyone else to prioritize comforting you. Despite not knowing what was awry, he still managed to be soothing. Dami’s inexplicably warm hands rubbed your back under the Roma sweatshirt you wore – actually his, of course. He hummed music from the radio with a cheek pressed to your head and you subsequently felt the music’s vibrations. It tickled. An unfamiliar sensation burgeoned in the darkest recesses of your heart. Not then, but eventually, you’d come to know it as stillness.

Notes: Don't yell at me I warned you! Also I'll post the next part (the smuttastic part) when this post has 40 notes hehe

-XOXO Eden

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[till-you-scream-and-cry]

Third Lesson of Good Manners: Keep Quiet

Pairing: Ethan x Damiano x Fem!Reader

summary: your third encounter with Ethan, this time someone will join, at least at the beginning, but how will this evening end?

word count: 2,7k

contents: SMUT, dirty talk, daddy kink, hair pulling, choking, spanking, rough sex, unptotected sex, humiliation

author’s note: well i hope i at least won’t disappoint after such a long break

Måsterlist | tåglist

PREVIOUS LESSONS:

✨FIRST LESSON ✨SECOND LESSON

*******

Another boring day has passed. After leaving the office, you stood at the bus stop, daydreaming a little, your vision got blurry, and noises mixed into white noise. The vibrating phone in your pocket brought you back to reality.

“Ciao, stronza” The sweet welcome was followed by Vic’s chuckle.

“Hey, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You narrowed your eyes, trying to see the bus, but sadly it was late again.

“You thought you could just go on for two weeks without telling me what happened at that party? I was busy, but now I need to know everything…”

Truth be told, you didn’t want to share with anyone details of what happened between you and Ethan. Vic was your dear friend, but what you had with Ethan seemed a bit too intimate. Especially since she knew him so well, and you weren’t exactly sure if she was aware of what he was capable of.

“Vic, what are you even talking about? I got a bit drunk and had a nice time.” You shamelessly lied.

“Yeah, right. It’s the second time you and Edgar disappear somewhere for a while and get back sweaty and a mess. Who are you trying to fool?”

You sighed.

“Yeah alright, even if, what am I supposed to tell you, hmm?” You asked, biting your lip.

“Preferably all the juicy details,” she said, and you could hear the grin in her voice.” 

“Vic, I’m in public, maybe some other time? I love you but I need to run.” You smiled at the sight of the approaching bus.

“Boo-hoo, you won’t get away with this, I’ll steal you for some serious gossiping on Saturday.”

“And…what’s on Saturday?” You frowned.

“Shit, I forgot to text you, sorry. Just pretend that you knew earlier please, Ethan will kill me.”

Your body tensed up at the sound of his name. 

“Ethan? So what’s tomorrow, will I ever find out?” You sounded a bit too impatient which you realized when the words escaped your mouth.

“Easy tiger, Ethan is making a little party in his flat, he just moved. And since he doesn't have your number, he asked me to let you know.” You haven’t replied right away. “Hello? Have you died from excitement or…” Vic scoffed

“No?! Shut up Vic I swear, you let your imagination run a little too wild. Thanks for the invite, I got to go. Love you.” 

You ended the call before she had a chance to say something else. Your heart was racing, and filling you with shameful thoughts. Or at least ones you shouldn’t necessarily have in public. But you couldn’t help the grin which appeared on your face at the very thought of meeting him again. 

You could barely sleep at night, instead, you went through your closet, trying to find a decent outfit. You knew how he liked you in short skirts, so the choice was simple. Short skirt with easy access to your lacy panties, red this time. Tight-fitting top, with flattering cleavage. And a choker. You couldn't help yourself. 

The next evening you showed up fashionably late, or maybe just late because you once again got stuck in traffic. Ethan opened the door with a smirk and looked you up and down. He was wearing jeans and a black tank top, which only emphasized his muscles.

“Look who decided to finally show up. I started thinking you got tired of me.” He slowly licked his lips. Your cheeks were burning.

“How could I?” You smiled innocently and handed him a wine bottle. He moved aside and let you in. 

His flat was just what you expected. Old building, renovated inside. Vintage furniture, a shelf full of vinyl collection, walls covered in art, and a piano. You weren’t sure how many rooms there were, but it was surely bigger than the flat Vic had. 

He quickly abandoned you and disappeared into the kitchen. You kept walking around until you found Vic and kissed her cheek. Thankfully, before she started interrogation, you felt a firm grip on your arm.

“Here you are. Mind if I steal her for a moment?” Ethan said to Vic in a playful tone.

“Oh, she’s all yours.” Vic winked and walked away to Thomas, who started dancing at the coffee table.

“What do you need me for?” You asked, pretending that you wouldn’t accept literally anything he’d offer you.

“Have a little patience, hmm?” He growled into your ear, which was enough to give you goosebumps.

He led you to the dark corridor where Damiano was leaning against the wall, watching you with a smirk.

“Hey.” You said quietly.

“So polite.” Ethan mocked you. “Alright, here's the deal. In case you thought I forgot about that vase you destroyed last time I saw you, I’m here to remind you that I still remember.”

“It belonged to my Nonna,” Damiano said in a low, husky voice, slowly shaking his head.

“Exactly. So I think you should somehow make it up to my dear friend.” Ethan said and looked at you with a cocky smile.

“Ummm…” You looked at him, and then Damiano, then again at Ethan. 

“Such a silly slut, it’s almost cute.” Ethan patted your head. “Well since you’re only good at one thing, I figured you could be Damia’s toy for the night. Do you agree?” He asked with softness in his eyes. Besides it being all fun and games, you knew he wouldn’t force you to do anything against your will. You looked at Damiano, scanning his body, a bit too openly.

“I agree.” You said with a smirk. Damiano wasn't the type of man you’d refuse to have fun with. He grinned at your words and gently gripped your chin, lifting your face.

“You won’t regret it,” Damiano said in a husky voice.

“Behave,” Ethan whispered into your ear before leaving you two alone.

“So…” you said quietly, staring into Damiano’s eyes with an innocent face. “How may I serve you?” You bit your lip and smiled.

Damiano grinned and moved closer, making you walk backwards and press your back against the wall. He stroked your side and placed his hand on your hip.

“I could take some edge off, it’s been a long week.” He said and grabbed your chin with the other hand. Damiano moved even closer and started pressing his thigh between your legs. You let out a quiet sigh which made him smirk even more.

“I’ll gladly help.” You looked at him with lust, feeling his growing bulge pressing against your hip. 

He grabbed your chin tighter and leaned down to kiss you. He savoured your lips at first, but quickly let the passion win and deepened the kiss. You sighed and cupped his face, nibbling on his lip. Soon later his hands started wandering over your body, squeezing your breast, roaming over your back just to find your ass and give it some attention as well. You were both getting breathless, lost in the kiss, getting more rough and hungry for more every minute. Damiano suddenly moved away and looked deeply into your eyes with his hooded and darkened ones. He smirked and grabbed your hand. you saw a door which he opened and pulled you inside. It was a guest bathroom, he lit a small mirror light and closed the door. 

“How cosy…” you mumbled and looked at him with a grin.

“Shut up…” he said in a breathy voice. His hands were all over you once again. Damiano swiftly picked you up and sat at the edge of the washing machine. As soon as he did so, he pulled your top off you and threw it aside. You gasped as the cool air hit your nipples, already hardening from his touch. he cupped them and leaned to kiss you again. He started playing with your nipples, making you gasp into the kiss. He stood close, so close that you felt his cock hardening against your wet  pussy. You reached to his trousers and started toying with the belt. He moved away and removed them while staring at you with hungry eyes. The wet stain on your panties got even bigger, which he obviously noticed. His cock was pressing on his boxers, which he removed soon after. It bounced and made you hum quietly at his size. He smirked even more and stepped closer. Damiano grabbed your hair in a firm grip.

“I need you to wrap your beautiful lips around my cock and show me how sorry you are,” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded silently and jumped off the washing machine, going immediately down on your knees. He gave himself a few strokes, watching you below him, with your mouth open.

“Such a good slut…” he grumbled and slapped your tongue with his cock a few times, letting you feel how heavy it is. 

Moments later your mouth was wrapped around him, taking him slowly but deeper with every head bob. He tangled his fingers in your hair and started making noises, soft grunts filled the room. You felt that your pussy was dripping from the sounds he was making, which only encouraged you to go faster, deeper and be better for him. Damiano started thrusting his hips and pulling your head down on himself harder. Your eyes watered, and you pinned your claws in his thighs. He finally came hard, pilling himself down your throat, his loud moans made your pussy twitch. Once you sucked him dry, choking on his cum a little, he lifted your chin up and looked at you with hooded eyes and pink cheeks.

“Fuck baby that was good.” He pulled you up from the floor and kissed you deeply, tasting himself on your lips. 

“I’m glad I could make you happy,” you said, trying to catch a breath.

He walked closer and sat you on the washing machine again. He knelt in front of you and reached under your skirt. His finger brushed your underwear.

“You’re so soaked…I can’t let you go like this.” He smirked and kissed your inner thigh. 

He pulled your panties down and threw them on the pile of clothes. Damiano parted your legs and hooked one of them over his shoulder. He moved his face closer and dragged his rough tongue over your pussy. You moaned and arched your back. He chuckled and moved his hands under your ass to keep you in place. He started with slow, long licks, which later turned into him sucking and flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. You couldn’t keep quiet, your moans got louder and out of control. You kept pulling on his hair, wriggling, trying to get more friction. As you were about to cum, the door opened and made you both stop.

“You just can’t keep quiet, can you?” Ethan looked mad, he stood there with his arms folded on his chest. 

Damiano stood up and wiped his mouth. You sat straight, trying to cover yourself. 

“Oh please, don’t play coy. You’re such a damn slut that you’ll act like an animal, like a fucktoy just for anyone? You were supposed to serve him, not get any pleasure yourself.” He looked at Damiano who acted very guilty.

“I’m sorry, I thought…” You mumbled.

“Stop. You want to scream like a whore so that a whole party could hear you? To let them know what kind of greedy slut you are? You’ll have it.” He said through gritted teeth. 

Ethan grabbed your hand and only let you throw on your top before pulling you towards the corridor. He led you, pantyless, all sweaty and worked up, through the living room full of guests, and pushed you into his bedroom. It wasn’t big, but very tasteful. As you’d expect.

“I’m sorry…” you started.

“No. Too late for that.” Ethan walked closer to you and hooked his finger under your choker to pull you closer. “Now I’ll just have to punish you.” 

You nodded, enchanted by his deep, brown eyes. His hand gripped your throat, pulling you into a deep and passionate kiss. Ethan snuck his hand under your skirt and moaned softly as he brushed his fingers against your soaked cunt.

“Fuck…” he looked at you and moved away. He swiftly pushed you onto the bed and trapped you beneath himself. Your hands were pinned above your hand, his other hand was teasing your folds. You whined and arched your back, wanting much more than this. 

“You’re so damn greedy…want daddy to fuck your stupid brains out? Wanna show my guests who owns you and can only make you scream?” He growled into your ear.

“Yes…yes please.” You mumbled. “Please, Daddy.” 

Ethan smirked and got off you. He got rid of his clothes and started playing with his hardening cock. His eyes didn’t leave your body for a second. He walked closer again, making you breathe more heavily, at the very idea of what he might do to you. He grabbed your legs and in one move turned you around on your stomach. A sharp pain as he smacked your ass made you squeak.

“On all fours, be a good girl.” He rubbed your red skin.

You obediently got in the position he wanted to have you in, and realised that a big mirror was in front of you. You caught his eyes, and he smirked.

“Oh yes, I want you to see how pathetic you are.” 

He moved on the bed behind you and started teasing your folds with his tip. He took his sweet time, making you whine and try to back out on his cock. He smacked you again and gripped your hair, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Ethan forced your legs further apart so that your pussy was all ready and open for him.

“Look, so needy, just dripping all over me to get this cock, hmm?” He looked at your reflection and pushed all the way in, in one push. 

You moaned loudly, for a moment forgetting about the guests in the other room. He kept his hand on your back, the other tightly gripping your hair. Ethan made sure both he and you can see the faces you were making as he kept slamming deep inside you. 

“So whose cock is better, hmm? Who do you belong to, you whore?!” He spat out while speeding up his thrusts. 

His dark hair was moving with his every move, tickling your oversensitive skin, his fingers were digging deep into your hips, leaving bruises for the next day. The wet noises filled the room, mixed with your moans and whines and his low grunts.

“Who do you belong to?!” He asked louder.

“I belong to you, Daddy!” You screamed, failing to keep eye contact. 

It got messy, fast breathy and full of noises. You kept scratching his thighs, trying to pull him deeper, he kept pulling your hair, leaving bites on your back, scratching you, slamming into you and fucking you into oblivion. Ethan was hitting every spot, stretching you so well. He once again pulled your hair to make you watch as he came with a loud moan, filling you with his hot cum. Just from seeing that and hearing how good you made him feel, you came screaming, trembling and collapsing under him. 

You lasted like that for a moment, both of you coming harder than ever. He finally softened and slipped out of you. Ethan rolled you on your back and sat between your legs. You felt his cu slowly dripping out of you. He brushed his hands up your sides and hands, gently pinning them above your head. You expected a round two, but instead, he leaned down and kissed you softly, caressing your cheek. once he broke off the kiss he looked down at you with a blissful smile. 

“You’re in trouble, miss,” he said in a raspy voice.

“What did I do now?” You asked with raised eyebrows. He kissed your nose and kept looking at your face in such a way you’d never seen him look before. Ethan sighed and rest his head on your chest, carefully not to squeeze you. He wrapped his arms around you.

“You got me addicted to yourself. Maybe I’m not mad about that. Maybe I could get used to having you here more often.” 

You silently started playing with his hair and placed a soft kiss on his head. And you could swear you felt his heart beating faster at that same moment.

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

taglist: @thewitchinthemountain @coven-daddy @8iunie @tempobrucera @bethanysnow @writingmaneskin  @blackberryblossom @hiraetheral @theimpossiblehologramtree @ilwiwbysmv @weareoddlydrawn @bieberhoodforever @chesirecatty-blog @que--sera--sera @iamtashaquinn @butkutee @ohdamiano @stardustingold @woahzz11 @cuzimitaliano @thegeminisgirl @bisexual-babygirl-mj @maneslut  @eliseline @dpaccione @xweirdxsceletton @agentreid2 @roisinlove123 @vicdeangelisbra @ohladymoon @ykaaarus @androgynouscloudenemy   @lovelyy-moonlight @anaislfbv @darcymånewinx @esposadomd @chiaraxtargaryen @flowerfeastrry @mandy-bo-bandy @itsbearss @woddiemmi @sournatromanoff @lavendernlemons @woddiemmi @lizzylynch1 @formulapierre @sadroses98 @peculiar-time-traveller  

#maneskin #måneskin #maneskin writing #maneskin fiction #ethan torchio #ethan x reader #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio smut #damiano david #damiano david imagine #damiano x reader #ethan maneskin #damiano maneskin #smut #my writing #lesson of good manners #ethan torchio x reader #damiano david x reader

[chemical-killjoy]

✨MASTERLIST✨

Greetings Dear Reader! Right now the majority of the fics on my masterlist are from my old blogs, @immrbrightsideeee and @remingtonisleithal, so most links will take you to that, any and all notes on those posts I am not likely to see for a bloody long time, so please message me or send an ask or something if you really liked the fics/want a sequel or are anything! Also if you like my writing, check out @smiling-girl and @fandomfoodiedancer, they're amazing <33

Requests are OPEN

(and encouraged lol)

I write for a whole bunch of fandoms, but here's the ones I can think of: arcane, black veil brides, maneskin, marvel, motionless in white, my chemical romance, palaye royale, pierce the veil, the artful dodger, the raven cycle (books), and supernatural :)

If you like my writing, here's the link to join my taglist (It's very important you guys fill this out if you wanna join my taglist as I do write some serious, dark topics sometimes) and here's a link to buy me a coffee

updated: 15/12/23

Damiano David:

*A night to remember 1/2

smut. Damiano is attracted to reader singing iwbys

Movie and a kiss

the reader had a fight with their family and Damiano looks after them

Fast Car (trigger warning)

Honestly this is just angst and emotional and if you don’t cry I have failed as a writer. But it’s got a happy ending!!

Vic de Angelis:

Knight in Shining Armour

Vic saves the reader from a creep at a bar

Remington Leith:

*Caught in the Storm

reader and remington share a bed in a storm. What ever will happen?

Feel better

comfort fic, remington takes the reader on an adventure to feel better

*Only one answer (part two of Feel Better)

I will find you

mesmerized by someone in the crowd, remington has to find the reader

Something beautiful (part 2 of I will find you)

I Just Need Some Air*

young!Remington and the reader are at a party and after confessing their feelings things get heated.

Better Than Nutella

Remington is hooked on his new friend’s cooking, and smile.

Movie Night

Remington and Y/N have a movie night

Morning Light: (this is a collab with @cursivetalk)

vampire Remington, based on the tonight is the night I die video. Series, currently being written.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Emerson Barrett:

Teach me

emerson teaches the reader the drums

Andy Biersack:

Don’t go (trigger warning) (there is comfort)

I Don’t Wanna Be Alone (trigger warning) (with comfort)

Love isn’t always fair *

After a concert Andy reveals his love for his best friend

Mortician’s Daughter (trigger warning)

Thomas Raggi:

Moonlight’s Curse (part 1)

werewolf!thomas, a series being written :)

Mistakes and Misunderstandings

Ronnie Radke:

*untitled

pwp really, Ronnie meets Y/N in a bar and things happen

Vic Fuentes:

Hell Over Me (trigger warning) (happy ending)

Frank Iero:

Not A Kid *

TW brief mention of abuse, age gap. Y/N works for MCR and it turns out Frank likes her just as much as she likes him

Gerard Way:

Cemetery Drive

TW for suicide and self harm. Y/N visits her ex’s grave, and is surprised to find him there

Hang Em High

Cemetery drive part 2

Demolition Lovers

Part 3 and final chapter of Cemetery Drive

Kisses and Coffee

Coffee shop and accidental kiss AU

Dean Winchester:

Life In (Rose) Pink

Dean is a romantic cliche trying his hardest

Chris Motionless:

Eternally Yours *

Based on the music video

Jinx:

You Decide

Reader has a breakdown and Jinx helps them

Jack Dawkins/Dodger:

Healing Kiss *

Reader is in hospital, but Dr. Dawkins is there to heal her. TW for self harm, suicide and mentions of abuse.

#scarlet screeches #mcr #my chem #my chemical romance #maneskin #fanfic #my work #spn #dean x reader #gerard x reader #vampire gerard #frank iero x reader #pierce the veil #vic fuentes #ronnie radke #thomas raggi x reader #andy biersack x reader #andy black #palaye royale #soldiers of the royal council #remington x reader #emerson x reader #damiano x reader #vic de angelis #morning light #chris cerulli #chris cerulli x reader #chris motionless #chris motionless x reader #motionless in white

[thepersonnamedsam]

✶ masterlist ✶

Welcome to my masterlist :) 

This is basically me trying to figure out who I’m writing for and stuff, please be patient and have faith that this will all make sense in the future :) thank you for reading ♡ 

TV series & movies

Bands

F1

Lissyontour (Taylor’s Version)’s Masterlist (my bestie ;)

prompt list

who i write for

taglist

#masterlist #f1 #f1 x reader #manseskin #the rookie #the rookie x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly x reader #sergio checo pérez #max verstappen x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #fernando alonso #damiano maneskin #damiano x reader #damiano david #ethan torchio #5sos #ashton irwin #calum hood #5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #michael clifford #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #chenford #tv series #bands #motorsports

[kaylalovesmaneskin]

The waiters

A/n:hey guys it been awhile since I posted buttt I just wanna say that is story was inspired by a pov that I had saw on TikTok that really had me thinking for an idea for this story and ALSO DID YALL LISTEN TO RUSH BRO IT SUPER AMAZING AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH LIKE IT 😍🙌 wellllll with that being said I hope you enjoy this story yall. Tag list: @ellior1111

Parings:Damiano David & Ethan Torchio &Fem!reader

Warrings:daddy kink,choking ,swearing threesomes, masterbating,knife kink/play handcuffs,blindfolded, ice cubes, dirty talk, ,blowjob and a whole lot of smuts and etc

Summary: you couldn't pay to tip your waiters so ur going to have to find another way..

“Hey y/n do you want to go out to that new restaurant that opened in town today.” Your best friend had asked you “certo, perché no.” You had answered back. You heard about this new restaurant by your mom and sister that is was the best and the food was amazing and the waiters were super sexy and hot according to your sister. (Fast forward to like 7-8 pm) “ hey y/n sei pronto per partire.” You friend yelled to you as walking over to your room. “sì, dammi solo un minuto, mi sto truccando e pettinando.” You said to her looking at you self in the mirror while applying you eyeliner on and putting some perfume on. ”hey bestie cosa ne pensi.” You said calling over her to you while you looking at your self in the mirror. You like the way the black dress really made you figure stick out and how your makeup match perfectly with you outfit it made you feel badass. “porca merda sì/no hai un aspetto fottutamente tosto damm sei bellissima chissà dal tuo aspetto potresti trovarti un appuntamento.” She said walking into your room and being stuck in her tracks. You where never the type to actually dress up and look sexy all the time. “Thank you now shall we leave I think we have a dinner to get to.” You said grabbing your coat and your phone and keys. “Si let go I can’t wait.”

Finally you guys had arrived at the restaurant you both stepped out of your friend car and walked into the restaurant. “Wow this place is amazing.” You said to your friend. “I know right it is beautiful.” She said back at you. You both walked up to the host who was at the entrance and he had instantly caught your eye. Your eyes gaze over to where his name tag was and it read d.damiano what a sexy name . “Y/n y/n girl” your friend snapped you out of your thoughts. “Uh um yea what happened.” You said looking at her confused. “You been looking at him for the last 4 minutes ooo I think you like him.” Your friend has whisper into your ear. “Well I think your friend here is pretty good looking to.” Damiano finally spoke up winking at you . “Oooo y/n look he thinks you are cute.” Your friend said lightly punching your shoulder. “Stop umm woah this is the first and worst interaction I have ever had in my life but umm I would like a table for two please.” You said blushing a lot. “Right this way cutie.” Damiano said grabbing two menus. “Here is you table your waiter will be here in a few minutes.” He said “t-thank you.” You said struggling to make a sentence you never had been this flustered before. ”y/n you know I think I can see you and that guy having something.” She said smirking at you. “Nun uh not in a million years it was just a stupid interaction.” “Yeah right that so totally why when we walked in you immediately started staring at him with those “even tho I just meet you fuck me already” eyes.” Your friend said laughing at you.

“Woah woah listen that a little to much don’t you think.” You said in such a awkward tone because even tho you didn’t want to admit it may be your friend was right. “si/n è passato un anno dall'ultima volta che hai avuto un ragazzo devi almeno provare a fare di un ragazzo il migliore amico o trovarti un ragazzo è ora ragazza.” Your friend told you. You have to admit she is right it just you didn’t want to be in a relationship nor ready to have one but you will try but the thing is that you liked being independent and not having to relying on a man and especially ones that are low life abusers and fucking cheaters.(you were referring to your ex boyfriend) “lo so lo so ma non so se sono pronto voglio dire che amo stare da solo e non voglio rivivere quell'esperienza.” You told her before she could respond there was this hot sexy looking waiters was at your table he had really really long and black and lovely hair that you ever seen. “ciao ragazze, mi chiamo ethan, sono il vostro cameriere per oggi, quindi c'è qualcosa con cui potrei iniziare voi ragazze?” He spoke with such elegant and some what sexual tone in his voice as he made eye contact with you and your friend.”buongiorno signore um si vorrei le fettuccine al pomodoro. con un bicchiere di vino per favore.” Your friend spoke as she read the name of the meal she wanted to ethan. “okay okay questa è una buona scelta e tu amore mio cosa vorresti.” He said “io.. io umm vorrei.. come il Carpaccio e anche un g..bicchiere di vino.” You said really shyly. “è che tutte le donne.” “Si that will be all for Now thank you.” Your friend said. “Okay your wait time will be about 18-20 minutes.” He said. “Si si.” Your friend respond back. Then Ethan had walked away from your table. “Ok, sì, ragazza, devi parlare con uno di quei ragazzi come una ragazza che non hai mai avuto due ragazzi che flirtano con te DUE VOLTE IN UNA NOTTE TI FANNO CAPIRE NEL GIOCO RAGAZZA.” You bestie yelled at you but not that loud. “Okay okay but I’m scared I literally actually like a fool in front of them.” “Y/n you need to stop putting your self down you are so beautiful, smart, wonderful, Talented any guy would be lucky to have you you just have to see that inside your self.” You friend said holding your hands making you look at her. “T..thanks that is really really the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me ever.” “Well I am glad to be the first.”

“Well that got emotional really quickly but I am going to use the restroom I’ll be right back.” You said getting up and out of your chair. You started to walk around to look for the bathroom then when you wasn’t looking you had bumped into the Damiano guy for earlier. “Oh shit fuck I am sorry.” You said apologizing maybe if you didn’t have your face in your phone you wouldn’t have bumped into him and drop the plates of food he had in his hand. “It alright love are you okay cazzo I got this all over your lovely dress.” He said helping you clean your dress off he had one of his hands on your hip and the other one with a napkin. You didn’t know what you was feeling but you were definitely having a million butterflies in your stomach as he help clean your dress off. “Anddd done I am truly sorry about that.” Damiano kept on apologizing to you. “No it fine it my fault should had been looking when I was walking and let me help it the least I can do.” You said getting on your knees with a napkin trying to clean his shoes and his pants off. “No please amore mio it fine you really don’t have to….” Before he could finish his sentence he had stop talking just to look at how pretty you look underneath him then all of a sudden Ethan your waiter saw the both of you and walked over to yall. “che cazzo sta succedendo qui.” He said looking at the both of you. Once you heard his voice you quickly got up and stand beside Damiano. “ beh, guarda cosa è successo è che questa bella ragazza era su di lei era in bagno e lei mi ha urtato e ha combinato un casino, quindi ha fatto la cosa giusta e mi ha aiutato a pulirlo come una brava ragazza che è.” He said looking over at you. “Umm yeah that’s what happened.” You said you face was super red like the tomato sauce. “beh, è ​​bello sapere che questa brava ragazza pulisce il suo casino, forse lo farà più tardi, ma tesoro, la tua amica ha dovuto andarsene e ha pagato il suo pasto tra l'altro.” Ethan said tilling your chin to look at him. “I-I should get back to my table.” You said speed walking to your table. What the fuck did he mean later ugh man up y/n you are going to flirt with these guys like Elliot said .

You had ate your food while texting you bestie Elliot about what happened. “Umm I am ready for my bill.” You said calling Ethan over to your table. “Si on it.” He said walking over to the register to get you receipt. “Here you go.” He said as he handed you the bill. “Umm so like this might sound weird but can I get yours and you co workers number.” You said with the little bit of confidence you had left. “Sure sweetheart I’ll get that for you.” He winked at you walking away. Holy shit you thought to yourself. As you get the money to pay for your food Ethan was making his way to find dami. “ehi damiano conosci quella ragazza che hai incontrato?” “si che mi dici di lei.” “beh, sono andato a darle il conto che ha chiesto di me e del tuo numero.” “oh davvero mi chiedo cosa stia combinando.” “dami e se avesse combinato qualcosa, sai cosa intendo.” “vero vero ma aspettiamo solo di vedere cosa dosa voglio dire che è davvero sexy sembra che piagnucoli.” Dami winked at him. “dami basta che mi dia solo il tuo numero.” Ethan said to him. “ok ok qui.” Damiano said while writing his number on a napkin and then giving it to Ethan so he could write his number to. (Meanwhile back to you ) Ethan came back with the napkin and placed it on the table all he was left to see was no you but a napkin with your number on it and the cash for your food put there was no tip. “cazzo ha pagato una mancia ugh qualunque cosa gliela faremo pagare ora che ho il suo numero.” Ethan said under his breath.

Meanwhile with you, you where in a taxi on your way back to your house. “Shit fuck I didn’t even get their number but I left mine.” You said putting your head in your hands. A few minutes you finally got to your house and took your heels off then went to sit on your bed then all of a sudden you got a Text from a random number. “Holy shit shit shit what if it is the Ethan guy oh my fucking god okay y/n don’t panic you don’t even know if it is him.” (This is not a real number btw )

*********676-266-2689********

unknown number:hey cutie it me Ethan the guy from the restaurant I just wanted to tell you that you forgot to pay your tip but it fine.

You: oh fuck look I am sorry I just got scared about asking you and your friend for your number I just scared and left

Unknown number :oh I see well love you don’t have to pay your tip but you can pay me and my friend in a other way 😏

You:oh really and what will that be

Unknown number:just give me your address and you will see how

You:oh really my address is 6659 Angeles avenue (not a real place)

Unknown number:Ill come and see you when I am done with my shift bye bye sweetheart

******************************************************************************

Holy shit there no fucking way that he actually coming but i will just have to wait and see but for now I’m going to take a bath my mind is a mess right now. You thought to yourself. You got up from your bed and walked over to your dresser and pulled out a set of pj’s and walked over to the bathroom. You were in your bathroom and you close the door and turn on the water then when to take your clothes off. You went to sit in your bathtub your mind was racing a hundred miles a minute you close your eyes to let mind wander for a little. When your mind was wondering you could help that you had this image in you head that you were handcuffed to your bed with a blindfolded on and Ethan was running and Knife down from you boobs down to you stomach while dami was tracing you body with an ice cube. As you were getting these dirty thoughts in your head your hand made it way down to your pussy and you started to rub your clit fast while moaning like crazy. “Shit fuck the things you guys do to me.” You moaned. As you continue to play yourself you started to feel a familiar feeling in your core as you rubbing your clit fast. And a minute or two later you had came after playing with yourself and letting out the loudest pornography moan ever. “Oh shit fucckk.” You moaned loudly. After coming down from your high you had gotten up from the bath and turn on the shower and brushed your teeth and washed up and gotten out the shower.

As you came you the shower you had walked into your room to find a damiano and a Ethan sitting on your bed waiting for you. “Holy shit w-what the fuck are you to doing here.” You screamed at them “well darling you told me to come over after I was done with work.” Ethan said making eye contact with you and then staring at you body that in a towel. As you noticed ethan and dami eyes wonder on your body you decide to say something to them. “Well umm yall know that I can see you looking at me with those “just come over here and let me take that towel off of you and let me fuck you eyes.” You said looking at them with a smirk. “Well pretty lady we could make that happen.” Dami had spoken up. The next that happen was dami had gotten up from the bed pinning you against the wall Kissing you so hard that it leaves your knees weak and your body is pressed up against dami’s as you struggles to keep your lips on dami’s all times. Dami had pulled away from you. "I love it when you act all controlling like that knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me.” Dami said to you. “You know dami i want you to press my face into a pillow and make me scream.” You said making strong eye contact with him. “Well you stay right there little lady and how about I allow Ethan to get some action since you are the one who had been eye fucking him all day.” Ethan got up from the bed and walked over to you and looking you in the eyes for you permission to take off your towel and you had nodded in a yes for him to go ahead. He took your towel off of you and started to make his hands run Down to your boobies massaging them. “You know y/n Eye-fucking me all day, isn’t and won’t help you right now.” He said pining your arms above of you head then kissing you. After he said that you were A nervous and a blushing mess who can't properly function. "I have barley even touched you yet, why are you falling apart so easily?" Ethan said whisper into you ear. You breathe had hitched and he had noticed it. Ethan had picked you up and laying you down on the bed. “Listen y/n im and just gonna do a few things all you have to do is trust me okay.” Ethan had reassured you. “Yes daddy.” You Wimper back. “Y/n honey come lay down but first I am going to had to cover your eyes.” Dami said taking a black bandanna and using it to cover your eyes. Then Ethan had took some long chained handcuffs and tied your hands up. Now it was time for Ethan to take control. Hungerily ripping apart his clothes and getting on the bed then he started to bite at your neck and thighs as soon as he was on the bed. Ethan’s hands made their way down to you pussy and he had insert one finger into you area you had moaned loud. “Mmm fuck.” You couldn’t see anything so right now your body was really sensitive. “Please Ethan.” You wined “aww look Ethan poor little y/n is begging for you.” Dami mocked “awe y/n love is there something you want.” Ethan said to you. “I need more.” You said crying and tugging at the cuffs. “More what daring.” Dami said. “I need a more another finger please please.” You cried tears rolling down your cheeks. "Aww is baby crying? There there, that feels good doesn't it?" Dami said inserting on of his fingers in to your pussy. Dami and Ethan moved there fingers in and out of you stretching you out for the real game. They both continue to finger you while you tugged on the cuffs and moaning like a mess. After a few more minutes of them finger you you felt the need to cum and you told them. “E-Ethan d-dami I- have to Cumm.” You cried out loud. “Okay princess give us a minute.” Ethan told you. Purposely turning you on just for them to be edging but they never planned one letting you get too stimulated. The both of them Watching you desperately trying to hold yourself together for the rest of the night. They pulled there fingers out of you before you got to cum. “W-what the fuck.” You said in a made tone . “Oh dear bad girls don’t get to cum nun uhu they must listen to what daddy says.” Ethan said “okay okay I promise I will be a good girl.” You wined.

“Oh sweetheart don’t think it will be that easy.” Dami hissed. “If you want to cum then your are going to have to beg.” Ethan said. “Please please please I’ll do anything just please let me cum.” You beg and beg and beg. “Mmm dami what do you think do you think she deserves it.” “Yea let give it to her.” “Okay princess I am going to uncuff you and take you blindfolded off.” Ethan said. “Okay yes sir.” Ethan had grabbed the key for the handcuffs and uncuffed you and then took off your blindfolded. “Now baby since I am going to be nice and let you cum but there one thing tho you can cum tho until I say so but with that being said this cock isn’t going to suck it self now.” Ethan said looking at you in the eyes making sure you heard his message. “Yes sir.” You had walked over to Ethan to were he was sitting on the couch with his legs spread open. You got down in front of him. “Oh y/n look what you do to me .” Ethan moaned . You pulled down his boxers and his cock sprung free. “Omfg y/n you think you can handle that much.” Dami said with his eye on Ethan dick. “I-it’s i-.” You said you were so stunted by his length that so was dami to. You went to put your hair in a ponytail but then all of a sudden dami grabbed you hair in to a fist full of it. “Don’t worry about this princess I got this little problem now go suck off Ethan he doesn’t like waiting.” Dami said to you, you began to take Ethan’s tip of his dick into your mouth and you began to tease him because of how he teased you earlier. “Y/n stop teasing me so fucking much or else.” “Oh else what bicth.” You bite back “if I was you y/n I would watch my mouth.” Dami said. “You better watch your fucking mouth or you will be so so sorry.” Ethan said grabbing you by the neck and bring you back to the bed. “You know you little cum slut you look so pretty with my hands around your neck.” Ethan whisper into your ear. You moaned at his words. Ethan began to put one of your legs over his shoulder and he took his dick and spit on his hands and stroking himself a few times then inserting himself into your pussy. “Oh fuck Ethannn.” You moaned. He started to trust in and out of you over and over. He had smack your ass really hard making you yelp. “I love the way you look when I am inside of you.” Ethan moaned. “Mmmm holy shit fuck.” You screamed Ethan became to trust really harder because he was close to coming and so where you. “Fuck Ethan I’m close.” “Hold it well cum together baby.” Two more trust from Ethan and he was cumming deep inside you filling you up the the brim. He had said inside of you for a few more minutes before he had took his dick out of you and all the warmth you felt before is now gone but now you have another problem to worry about.

“Oh dear y/n if you thought what Ethan did to you was bad then you have a whole nothere problem.” Dami said smirking at you. Ethan had got off of you and bed leaving you there so now that dami could take care of you. dami had begun teasing you. god, he was in love way you throw their head back in pleasure. "open wide for me, love, will you?" Dami said looking at you. Dami pulling on your collar he had for you so tight and he began to nibbling on your lips, so that you lose composure and moan in dami’s mouth. "fuck you, dami." "we're already on it, aren't we, sweetie.” He said smirking at you. You began to hesitate, gulping, visibly nervous. Dami then say, eyes fluttering to yours, "if you're uncomfortable..pull away." to that, you move closer to him. You both started kissing each other hard and passionate. Dami started to kiss you from you neck Down and with every kiss that trails your body leaves you wanting more. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, you forget that Ethan’s name." Dami said smirking and looking up at you. You accidentally moan a little too loud, and dami smirk, feeling bold. “Spread your pretty little legs open for me baby.” And you did as he said. He looks at you between you legs and goddamit did he look super sexy there you want him to stay there for every. “Oh my y/n honey you are super wet." Dami Said between you legs from his words alone you had vibrations going on throughout your hole body then dami had being to lick you pussy you had moaned really loud .dami said "god, moan louder." and you are now suddenly a mess, blushing, fumbling, whimpering, crying out loud as damiano continues to eat you out. You were on the verge of cumming. “Oh fuck dami I am about to cum shittt.” You moaned. “Yes princess cum into my mouth and scream my name so everyone knows who is making you fell good.” “OH fuck damiiiii.” You screamed. You felt the coil inside of you snap and you had came into damiano mouth. Dami had said between your legs for a few more minutes then he had gotten up. Ethan had came back over the bed where you and damiano was at the both got up and when to the bathroom to get clean up and bring back a warm towel to clean you up.

All of yours hair is messy, sheets messed up, you all lay near each other, heavily breathing and all you can think of is cuddling them. and you find their hands pulling your waist closer to their body. You lay in the middle between them and they both gave you a kiss on the four head “good night boys.��� “Good night y/n.” They both said. You all fell asleep peacefully and safe and sound. THE END

A/n as of now :Holy shit YALK DONT KNOW HOW LONG THIS FUCKING STORY TOOK TO MAKE I AM SUPER SORRY ABOUT THR WAIT AND SHIT I HAVING MEANT TO POST THIS ON JANUARY 19 OR 20 BUT THAT NOT HOW THIS WAS PLANNED I STARTED WRITING THIS ON THE THE 13TH SO THAT WHY IT TOOK ME SK LONG BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS ONE AND I WILL BE HAVING MORE UPDATES COMING SOON BYE BYW LOVES ❤️❤️

#damiano maneskin #ethan torchio smut #maneskin smut #smut #ethan torchio #damiano david #damiano david smut #ethan maneskin #y/n #damiano x reader #ethan x reader

[tellmesomething01]

even the teacher knows - Damiano David

warnings: make out not in details

pairing: student!damianodavid x student!reader

pov: 3rd person

summary: y/n likes damiano, damiano likes y/n. the one problem? they are classmates

a/n: kinda inspired from a situation between two of my friends and classmates. This sucks but i haven’t post in a lot and I’m planning something bigger that i will post soon, i hope.

“I want to play a little game, are you in?” The teacher asked his students and everyone agreed “So move all the chairs and stuff to the side” the teacher ordered and the students did what he told them.

“Pretend there’s a line in the middle of the classroom. On my right side there’s yes and on my left side, no”

“What about the middle?” Victoria, one of you classmates, asked

“That’s the ‘I don’t know’. But there is different shades of yes and no. Totally to the right is 100% yes but if you stay between the middle and the right is 50% yes. Do you understand?” the teacher asked and everyone nodded

“Good, I’m going to ask you a question and you are going to answer. So, I’ll start easy, who likes pizza?” The teacher ask and everyone moved totally towards the yes

“That was easy, I’ll do something more difficult, who knows what to do after high school?” Most of the student moved to the no, come stayed a bit in the yes and just a few totally in the yes. The teacher looked around and decided which student ask about their future: “Damiano, totally in the yes, what do you want to do?”

“Music” Damiano answered with all of his confidence, he knew what he wanted to do and he knew he could get where he wanted but the teacher almost laughed at his face “Sure, something more realistic?”

“I’m fine with my dream, thank you” everyone was looking at Damiano almost laughing except some students, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas, who recently formed a band with the brunette boy, and y/n, who knew how Damiano’s voice sounded when he sang and you loved it, she knew he could become famous because you knew he was stubborn and determinate. You just knew him.

The game kept going for other then minutes then the teacher changed, the Italian teacher entered the room, she was much more fun and kind then the other teacher. She loved having fun and joke with her students so, when one of the girls asked if they could keep going with the game, she immediately agreed. It was the end of the year, anyway.

“Are you happy?” The teacher asked but not everyone went to the yes side or 100% yes, well, teenage years ain’t easy anyway.

“Do you like, and I mean like like, someone in your class?” a boy and a girl went to the yes side, they were dating sing a couple of months; other two girls walked a bit to the yes side, they probably liked each other, but the rest of the class stayed in the no side until some of the students started laughing

“Oh come on, it’s not fun if you lie” the teacher chuckled looking at you and Damiano “y/n?”

You shook your head chuckling “I’m not lying” you said trying to not laugh, you knew you were lying

“Damiano?” the teacher said looking at him

“Is this the way to find out a thing like this?” Damiano asked

“Find out?” Victoria laughed along with Thomas and Ethan

“Oh boy, if she hasn’t understand until now, the poor girl is blind” the teacher said making you roll your eyes and walk towards the yes side, Damiano following along.

“Well, that’s better” the teacher said and kept going with the game.

***

A couple of hours later, during history’s class, Damiano walked past your desk and left you a note. The note wasn’t weird for you, you and Damiano always left notes for each other, the weird thing was that he left it just before heading to the bathroom.

‘I’ll wait you outside the bathroom’

“Teacher, can I go to the bathroom?” you asked

“Damiano just went” the teacher retested

“I know but it’s an emergency” you lied

“The go” the teacher shrugged

You walked out of the classroom and headed towards the bathroom and there was Damiano, waiting for you in front of the girl’s door.

“What’s up?” you asked

“Could you…check if someone’s in there?” Damiano asked pointing the the girl’s bathroom

You scratched up your face in confusion “okay” then you check the girl’s bathroom, knocking on every door before going back to Damiano “No one”

“Good” he mumbled before pushing you back into the bathroom and In one of the cabins

“What’s wrong?” you asked when you noticed that he didn’t have his normal cocky expression.

“We’re not gonna talk about what happed before?” he asked

“Dami, it was a game” you shrugged

“Yeah, but you moved to the yes” his eyes growing wider and his pupils getting bigger

“After the teacher accused me of lying”

“Okay, we’re not getting to the damn point. What if I told you I wanted to move to the yes in the first place but you didn’t move so I didn’t?” he asked

“I would ask you, why the hell you haven’t done anything yet” you replied, for the first time you were the one wearing a cocky smile, you were the one challenging him.

“You are…unbelievable” Damiano chuckled then lined in and kissed you and, god, that felt good, like you waited for it all your life. His tongue slipped between your lips when you quietly moaned. His leg between your thighs gently brushing to your clothed core but you two pulled apart when you heard Victoria’s voice call you “y/n, you okay? The teacher sent me to check on you”

“Yeah, Vic, I’m okay. Is there anyone else out there?” you asked

“No one”

“Good” you said walking out of the cabin holding hands with Damiano

“Jesus, finally” Victoria sighed

#damiano david fluff #damiano david smut #damiano x y/n #damiano x reader #damiano maneskin #damiano david #damiano x you

[sugar-petals]

Måneskin Reaction :: You Flirt With Them ❤️

# word count. 2k 

♡ note. hello, bisexuals and associates!!! happy pride month. you’ve given so much love to my ‚gettin‘ frisky w/ måneskin' 18+ scenario y’all are amazing. so, i’m back back back again 👀 for more fun stuff, this time with some world-building. enjoy!

TAGS/WARNINGS. ⚠️ ot4 imagines x gn!reader, suggestive, humor, cursing, innuendo, sex toy mention, ass jokes, reader’s dirty mouth, flirting at work, brief violence/alcohol/party drugs mention, almost-accident, damiano’s steamy gnc outfit

read it on ao3

thomas | Things start out in a literal fleeting heartbeat. You’re kind of exhausted from the concert high, but also full of guitar solo-induced adrenaline. Lord knows how you got a ticket for the very front. Afraid to be a little overzealous and attention-grabbing, you still made sure the band did not think the festival crowd was lame. Singing louder than three people at once hopefully makes a difference. So that’s that, and the setlist was great, anyway. Now, the stage is almost entirely empty, people rush to drink water. And: They want to see Metallica playing it up on a different stage. They’re already blasting a Queen song to warm up and gather the audience. Over here, the first row of course doesn’t dissolve that fast. Actually, you’re not mad being stuck here. You’re kind of witnessing staff tidying some cables right in front of you, and your band crush stringing up his guitar in real time. Thomas, who else. Fiddling with his instrument, he’s kind of preoccupied. Man, he’s too cute. You love his tousled hair and cravat. Enter Sandman is playing from the other direction, so more and more people around you start to leave. How you care, you just keep your head turned to the Måneskin stage hoping there’s a chance to interact. But watch what happens next — oh boy.

After Thomas — in full glam gear, that is — rattles down head first from the stage stairs since his heels got caught, but thankfully grabs hold of your arm: Well. Now you do have a chance to chat him up. Sort of like a little meet and greet. Okay, it’s kind of improvised and casual. You saved his neck and those long legs from tangling, he wants to repay you. „Oh— You like my guitar?“ he quips, with his signature sultry bedroom eyes, you know `em. „Hey sure, I can play something for you. I know it’s a bit shabby, but it’s supposed to be like that!“ And he starts plucking away on the fretboard, doing some scales, it all looks pretty impressive. You continue with some banter like hey, it’s supposed to be all chipped-off and rundown. He’s a super sexy rockstar, and practice makes perfect. A used guitar’s a good one. Thomas almost messes up his playing when he hears you call him sexy. „Am I?“ — „Of course! Look at you.“ — „I don’t get that a lot. People call me laid-back or something. You also look really cool.“ Duh, you have Måneskin merch on. Of course you look sick as hell. With the conversation progressing, the two of you sort of trail off backstage, and Thomas asks if you wanna have some licks, too. „Guitar licks or some other licks?“ is what you reply, and he shrugs, looking pretty sheepish right there. „Whatever you choose.“ — „Best of both worlds sounds very good.“

victoria | Dancing up to Victoria at a party feels scarier than it actually turns out to be. Although you’re terrified she’ll reject and flame you, you just give it a try and slowly, very slowly but surely… gyrate those hips in her direction. She smiles at you, she gets on your wavelength, returns the moves. Does she like what you do? Maybe? Is she in the mood? Is she just friendly? Does she laugh because she thinks you look utterly pathetic in front of the queen of the world? She’s Victoria from Måneskin! Hell, you just keep going. You started this, you got your groove on, you can’t chicken out now. The eye contact, it’s everything. That Vic walked up to the party in a hot cowgirl outfit is just too hot to ignore. A drunk and dizzy guy, ill-dressed and foul-mouthed as can be, stumbling in her direction with no seeming breaks on you briefly shove out the way. Not too aggressively, but resolute enough. How dare this smelly fucker interrupt your little mating dance right here. One does not disturb an art performance! Damiano on his best behavior, standing some meters away with his cocktail glass takes care of the rest, cussing the house down like hey you stupid walking can of beer, get out, Victoria is flirting, what’s your problem! Damiano is going absolutely ballistic on this guy, he gets a taste of his own medicine. You’re too infatuated to understand what’s happening, and nobody else cares, anyway. It’s too loud to understand the rest of the verbiage over there.

In the meantime, Vic is buzzing with excitement because her favorite song is suddenly playing at maximum volume. As if it’s a sign from above, you know the lyrics and mouth them. That’s the absolute last straw, baby. „We need to go, we need to go!“ — blink once, Victoria drags you onto the dancefloor without further ado and goes crazy. You’re suddenly wearing her cowgirl hat. So there we are! Everyone knows this lady can headbang, but this is a new level. The beat is pumping like Damiano’s heart when he sees a palette of black eyeshadow. Whatever it is that Victoria’s busting out there, hands going in all directions, you like it. That wild ass moshing almost knocks over people’s drinks in your vicinity. Gladly, a very oblivious Ethan is there to just stand in the way and shield the whole scene with his hunky body-ody-ody, like your personal hired guard. With the entire crowd pushing in all directions and new guests pouring into the room, everything gets tighter and— Well you know. Victoria winds up grinding her ass against you. And not in a shy way. Did you pass away, is this heaven? Did someone slip you an ecstasy pill? This girl is making you go insane by the minute. You never thought Vic would actually reciprocate at all, so… the more you know, and who knows where this might lead, huh.

ethan | Music video filming: Over! Cut! We’re finished. Hustle and bustle everywhere.  The producer is already envisioning millions of clicks, money, stocks — and gets on your nerves talking about `EthaNFTs’. Damiano retreated to write down some song lyrics that he doesn’t want to forget on the fly, Vic is eating a big ole hamburger in a diner next door, and Thomas is recording a kind of tiktok challenge around the corner. You arranged all the props that needed to be placed on the current set, and now put them back again. All done, then. You’re amused how the makeup and styling team took off in five seconds flat. Their favorite restaurant in the area had earlier closing times. But Ethan, taking the longest to pack up his drum kit, is now left to his own devices with changing his lace outfit back to casual. If it is casual at all, he’s 24/7 stylish. The sparkly eyeliner gotta stay on then, he has no clue where the wipes are. Just a minute later, you hear him go through a clothing rack in an adjacent room. Oh Jesus, he’s in there naked. Or in his underwear. Shit, the door is only half-closed. In an attempt to look uninvolved, you try to busy yourself picking up a glass of apple juice from the catering service and almost bump into Thomas doing the same thing, actually leaving for the parked tour bus. Departure in fifteen minutes says the driver, back to the hotel.

You can’t get yourself to actually leave just now. The set still isn’t cleared, right. So you’re just standing there, drinking juice, watching the camera crew discuss something about editing. After Ethan’s done, 90’s rock band tanktop on, guess who looks real grumpy. „Tangled mess,“ he complains under his breath, and you can tell it’s the hair, a beehive of heavy product and knots. You step over and offer your aid. After all, you’re staff, too. Ethan’s always in his own world and takes care of his things: Doesn’t mean he will refuse help. Since he can’t find a proper mirror, Ethan `bird’s nest‘ Torchio is more than okay with you brushing out his hair. Hallelujah, he has his own comb with him. He sits down, scrolls through his phone, you do your thing, making small talk at the same time. It’s actually relaxing. And who has sexier hair. You quiz him about his beauty routine while you’re at it, and he says he really takes his time in the bathtub to really work in the shampoo and conditioner. The hair gets too caught in any sink, and the shower is just boring and not so Italiano. You joke about how he should show you. You realize that would also mean… getting in the tub with him, right. Ethan, no stranger to Freudian slips, smoothes over the situation by saying why not take a camera, have you stand outside the tub and try the routine on him, so it’s gonna be a vlog at the hotel. Harmless new Ethan Insta content idea. Okay: Sounds like a plan. Thank you for doing my hair, let’s go to the bus then he says, and you walk next to each other. You always wanted to get to know him a little better.

damiano | Breakfast at the seaside hotel: The two of you already exchanged some vaguely heated glances. Nobody else was there except you, Damiano, and his sexy garter belts. You happened to be the only people in the hall at 5:45 AM, although it all felt really awkward still. That your designated tables were right next to another really did not help with the odd atmosphere. You were surprised to see him with his guard down, actually, even if his get-up screamed confidence and sexuality. Who dons a waist corset and shoulder harness this early in the morning. Walking up to the buffet where he paced around indecisively, you picked up a sandwich yourself. Right after complimenting Damiano’s all violet fashion choice… and just had to make fun of him when his `aesthetic‘ butt plug accessory chain got caught on the leg of the table. Straight-up having him wobble around on his big ass platform boots like a purple flamingo. He even tries to play it off by making a little booty-shaking dance out of it. Courtesy be damned, it’s too frickin’ early in the morning to censor yourself. And he’s the one walking around like he just visited a Dominatrix. So all you said to him was okay, that’s what happens when you put toys in your ass indeed, can’t even walk straight. Going by his unrestrained and bent-over laughter, Damiano enjoys the joke a little too much. This guy is wheezing his soul out. Ten seconds later, the realization hits. Way to go, he’s just clowned himself in front of a stranger he’s been eyefucking with. But the inappropriate humor… sure does something to him.

Back to eating: Even more awkwardly. You’re kind of laughing it off, too, now. But the story’s not over yet. After dropping a plate of scrambled eggs on his satin skirt and opening a sprite that exploded in his face — and onto your sweater, Damiano’s Italian dignity went down the drain entirely. So hey, screw the rest of breakfast, you both direly needed a change of clothing. On your way up to the rooms, someone desperately apologizes with endless what-can-i-do-for-yous. „Hm… I guess I do,“ Damiano clasps his hands behind his back, sort of kicking his dancey legs side to side to the beat of the catchy elevator music. He just looks down at his skirt and smiles all goofy. Is he shy? You just asked him if he really means it when he sings I’ll do whatever you want. Gotta be bold. And quoting his own crazy lyrics back to him when a fitting moment arises is only fair. Since he seems to mean it, you put some heat in your words. „Then, put that plug back in. There’s kids runnin’ around here, you kinky riot girl wannabe!“ —  „Oh my God, are you bullying me? You just don’t want me to trip!“ — „Hum, maybe.“ You don’t even know why you’re saying all these things, but very well: See you at lunch then in a new skirt, Mister Damiano David.

read it on ao3

© 2017-2022 sugar-petals. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed. all depictions are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

#måneskin #maneskin #maneskin fluff #maneskin smut #maneskin x reader #maneskin x y/n #maneskin x you #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #damiano x reader #ethan x reader #victoria x reader #thomas x reader #maneskin scenario #maneskin imagine #maneskin drabble #maneskin x gn!reader

[xxangelfarrlzxx]

I was bored when i wrote this but this is also inspired by my other friend named Xavier who gave me this recommendation :) (ily btw/p)

THIS IS BxB. I will re-write this as BxG, BxN. If you are a fem, its okay, you can read this as a G!P if you don’t mind/ignore the “he/him” pronouns on y/n 😭 enjoy!

WARNING(s): smut, bdsm, bj, just my writing in general 😭💀

“Ugh…” I groaned. I was INSANELY bored out of my mind, but also depressed because I was reading one of my fav books but it ended at a cliffhanger. I was very upset about it until I heard a knock at my door, leaving me forgetting my own thoughts.

I get out of my bed and walk over to my door, seeing Damiano standing at my door, holding a bag and an un-protected/un-wrapped box. “Hey Dam..what’s that?” I asked him, looking at the bag and the box. “I got this for you, handsome.” He replied back to me in a flirtatious manner. “Oh..okay.” I say blandly. “What’s the matter baby? You look and sound annoyed and upset about something.” He said softly, lifting up my chin with his thumb. “I was reading a book and it didn’t end how I’d expected to be. It was left at a cliffhanger.” I told him, backing up a little so he can enter my room. He sat down on my bed comfortably and I sat down next to him. “Ah, okay. Mind telling me what it was about, bambino?” I blushed a bit when he started speaking little Italian. “Well it was a steamy book.” I reply to him. “Steamy? You mean Sesso?” He replied back. “Um..yes.” I answered him. “Hmm..why don’t I make it a reality to make you feel better?” I get flustered at the sudden remark. “Alright..maybe that’ll take my mind off of it, I suppose.” I say.

-TIMESKIP CUZ IM LAZY AF AND FORGOT ALL ABOUT WRITING THIS SHIT..LIKE SERIOUSLY I LEFT THIS SHIT IN MY DRAFTS FOR FUCKING MONTHS 😭😭😭 AND I ACCIDENTALLY SWITCHED POVS SO THAT WAS 1ST PERSON AND THIS IS 3RD PERSON-

“D-DADDY!~” You moaned out loudly. Damiano currently had you bent over on your bed, fucking and pounding the life out of you. You couldn’t help but to moan every pump. Your ass was red as hell from the belt spankings, your hands were tied in a pretty pastel ribbon, you’re legs were tied with a rope, and you both were sweaty as hell. Dami was still pounding you, having your thoughts go wild. “You like how Daddy feels inside of you, hm?”. You nodded, as all your abnormal moaning, you couldn’t barley even speak other than screaming, crying, begging, and pleading out for your life. You we’re almost sure the neighbors could hear you guys. “More, yeah?” He teasingly asked you. “Y-Yes!~” You muffled a little bit into the pillow. He went deeper and harder inside of, causing louder moans coming from you. Dami was moaning as well, but not as loud as we you were. He grinned, seeing the sight of his handsome prince in front of him bent over. “Who do you belong to, baby boy?~” He purred out. “You, Dadd-Y-AAHHH~” You cried out. He had whipped you again. “Not loud enough, pretty boy. Again.” He asked you slyly and in his whore voice. “Y-YOU DADDY~” You nearly screamed out. He smiled before you started to speak. “I-I feel it…” you moaned out. “Hm? Fel what~” He teasingly asked. You knew not to try to play games with him, as you were in desperate need to cum. “I..I need to cum..” “Need?” He asked you once more before whipping you again. “I want to cum please, daddy!~” You replied to him. You couldn’t bare it anymore. He’s been edging you for…about a good 30 minutes, but allowed himself to cum a few times. “Hmm…fine, sweet boy~” He moved faster and deeper into you. You screamed out once you finally got to cum. You already knew what was next, but realized you couldn’t move. “Awh, poor boy can’t get up and move? Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” He pulled himself out before gently moving your body, your head facing him and his now wet dick. You looked up at him with just your eyes but before opening your shaky mouth so he could dick your throat down. You gave him his desired bj as he moaned out. He almost moaned as loud as you before he started thrusting against you. Thankfully, because of him, you didn’t have any sorta gag reflex. “Good boy, taking and handling like a pro.” You smile against his dick before going faster. You heard him moan out before letting some of his cum shoot inside your mouth. You swallowed it nonetheless and carried on. A few minutes pass before his moan become more whoreish. Before you could realize what was about to happen, he came inside your mouth more harder this time, and you swallowed it up almost instantly. You backed away a little bit while you both were breathing heavy.

He untied you on both the legs and hands and gave you soft kiss on the lips. He gently laid you both down for a bit before speaking softly into your ear. “Let’s go take a shower?” He asked before nipping on your ear. “Lets.” You say while getting up along with him to the bathroom, and you both shower together

THE FAKANG END

#damiano david #maneskin #måneskin #damiano x reader #x yn #smut #simp #18+ fanfic #18+ obviously #wattpad #tumblrpost

[merry-moody-missy]

Oh my goodness…. My mind has melted…. Just too Damn Hot Damiano 🥵😉❤️

#damiano maneskin #maneskin #damiano x reader #damiano imagine #damiano david #maneskin fanfiction #damiano david x reader #maneskin imagine #damiano #måneskin

[pjisskullourful]

ᵂⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᴴᵘᵐᵒᵘʳ

🐰Damiano × reader

NSFW 🔥 nasty adults engage in sexytimes

° Damiano David/female reader insert

° his wicked sense of humour suggests exciting sex || you & damiano become great friends after meeting at a bar, but it eventually becomes clear this should be more than a friendship [based during il ballo della vita era]

wordcount::: 9,640

° commissioned by the bloody wonder that is jace (@wow-ihateithere)💋 my absolute beloved, you're the best [commissions get priority- there are 3 fics in cue, secure your own spot right here]

° lyrics stolen from björk

The stage manager said your name, prompting you to look up, startled out of the thoughts you had been trying to keep organised. “You’re up next, babes.”

You attempted to return their smile as you got to your feet. This was the driest your mouth had ever been in your life and swarms of butterflies had taken up residence in your belly. You walked over to this relative stranger, wondering if it was too late to run away from this.

But an equal part of you insisted that you keep going and you met the manager’s eye. You had wondered about going through with this for so long, toying with the idea of stand-up comedy for years. You would be betraying a huge part of yourself if you gave into the fear and fled now. You stood in front of this person you had known for less than an hour, steeling yourself.

“When you hear the host introduce you, you just walk out and take the mic from him. Simple, right?”

“Simple.” You repeated, pleased when the word came out clearly.

You barely paid any attention to the act preceding you, they could have been speaking in an entirely made up language without you realising. What you listened to was the audience - they didn’t sound too difficult, they were generous with laughter and no aggressive voices were trying to make themselves known. Even as your hands were sweating, you thought you could do this.

There was a fair amount of applause then the host was saying your name. Before you could question it, you were starting to walk. You saw the spotlight, then you saw the smiling face of the local comedian as he held the microphone out to you. You took it and he left the stage - officially, it was too late to run now. There was modest, welcoming clapping as you turned to face the crowd. The spotlight got in your eyes at once, you raised the microphone towards your face.

“Well, hello there.” You said, a smile on your face as the adrenaline took over. “How are you guys tonight?” You turned the end of the microphone in the direction of the crowd and there were a handful of responding cheers. Less than a second later, you were snatching the microphone back towards yourself with a theatrical rolling of your eyes. “Enough about you, jeez.”

This got you your first laugh, the loudest coming at you from the right-hand side. Your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the light, allowing you to find this amused patron - a long-haired guy who appeared to be about your age. You hoped this wouldn’t be the only time you earned his boisterous laugh.

“I have a confession to make. Yes, an announcement to get us rolling. This is my first time doing stand-up.” You said, prompting some clapping. “Ooh, thank you for the encouragement, keep it coming. Give me that encouragement that I clearly didn’t get through my childhood, otherwise I wouldn’t need to be here.”

This gained laughs as you had hoped, including the long-haired guy. He sounded so genuine, you felt confident that you had him on your side. You thought that so long as you could keep this guy laughing, then you would be okay - you would be able to successfully make it through these next ten minutes.

Your hand was shaky on the microphone, but you didn’t let this rattle you. You glanced down at your other hand, where you had scribbled something of a running order with a fine-tip sharpie. You drew in the deepest breath you could manage and launched into your first proper bit.

It all happened so quickly, once you started talking it flowed out of you. Your nerves couldn’t touch you while you were on a roll like this. Your mouth was still horrendously dry but each word came out without flaw, getting you more laughs. You caught a glimpse of your best friend Liam seated at one of the tables. But your eye kept going back to that expressive stranger with the long hair. And every time you looked, he was either mid-laugh, or wearing a brilliantly bright smile.

Something moving in your peripheral vision of the rest of the stage caught your eye. The host was easing his way back onto the stage - you had done it.

“Well, that’s my time. Thank you so much for having me.” You said and as you spoke, you added more enthusiasm to each word, ramping up while wearing the biggest smile you could manage. “You guys have been so…”

In an instant, you stopped smiling and dropped your voice to a dreary monotone. “...here.” As the audience laughed, you turned to the host. You returned the microphone to the safety of his hands and gave a disappointed shrugging of your shoulders before leaving the stage.

The release was immensely satisfying, plastering a wide smile onto your face. Your body was filled with energising tingles as you got to disappear into the backstage darkness.

You began to laugh, not because anything funny was happening. This was the only way you could react to this overwhelming whirlwind of emotions. Disbelief and relief were married together in an intoxicating rush. You clasped your hands over your face and sank into the pride, so proud to have captured this victory for yourself.

You composed yourself enough to leave the backstage area, still feeling like you were walking on air as you returned to the venue’s main room. You went directly to the bar, not having to wait in line to request a glass of water. You were guzzling it down as quickly as you could, needing to remedy this feeling of the inside of your mouth being drier than a desert.

You had just turned back to the bartender, opening your mouth to speak. But someone else had approached, taking this silence as an opportunity to talk first.

“Whatever she’s having, I’ll pay.” It was the guy with the long hair. You smiled as he came closer, now that you were seeing him clearly you could appreciate how attractive he was. You had thought that his loud laughter would be enough to make him your favourite audience member, but he was racking up more merit points with you.

The bartender raised her eyebrows as she looked at you for a reaction. “Did you want a refill on that glass of water?”

“Fuck. That was meant to be smooth.” He said with a disarming smile as you giggled.

“Is that out of your price range, pal?” You teased before handing your glass back to the bartender. “A refill would be greatly appreciated, thanks.”

He turned to fully face you, resting his elbow on the bar. “I really loved your set and I didn’t think it would be right for you to not have a celebratory drink. But if that conflicts with your sobriety or something, uh…” He dragged his eyes across the stocked shelves behind the bartender. “They’ve got candy bars, I could buy you one of those?”

“I was just rehydrating. You can get me a Midori Illusion.” You said.

As you sipped your water, he repeated this order to the bartender, who got to work mixing. There was another comic on the stage now, earning their own laughs, but you only gave them a cursory glance.

Your new companion provided you with his name - Damiano. You responded with yours and a relaxed handshake was shared. The bartender set the green cocktail down in front of you and he provided payment.

“Thank you for the drink.” You said, downing the rest of your water so you could concentrate on the alcohol.

“No, you earned it. That’s a big deal what you just did.” He said. “Except, I’ve got my doubts over whether or not that was actually your first time.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Pardon me?”

“I’m just sayin’, you seemed like you knew exactly what you were doing up there, like someone with a fair amount of experience.” He said.

“Oh, so I’m a liar, am I?” You asked, wearing an amused grin on your face. “We’ve just met and already you’re calling me a liar?”

“Only a little.” He said, resplendent in his cheekiness.

You shook your head. “I don’t know if I like this side of you, Damiano.”

“Alright, how about this side?” He asked and turned his back on you, looking at you over his shoulder. “Do you like this side better?” He turned again, now putting his back to the bar. “Is this better? I’ll just side-eye you the rest of the night.”

You began laughing, raising a hand to cover your mouth before you got too loud. He appeared pleased by this, a twinkle in his brown eyes as he stood before you normally again.

“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it that you’ve never done that before.” He said.

“I swear…” You didn’t hesitate to reach out, your fingers going around the crucifix pendant on his necklace. You lifted it from between the open collar of his button-down shirt. “Hand to God, that was my first time doing stand-up comedy.”

“Well then you should take my scepticism as a compliment, you’ve got some kind of natural talent for the stage.” He said.

“Thank you. I was so nervous, I was worried that everyone would get distracted by how much my hand was shaking on the mic, it felt-”

“Girl…” Liam’s familiar voice greeted you and you found him quickly approaching you, his arms open wide. “You did it.”

You beamed at your best friend, extending an arm to him, getting excited to bask in the achievement for longer. “I did it.”

He wrapped both arms around your middle, squeezing your body tight to him. You put an arm around him and as you embraced, you thought about all of the encouragement he had given you in the lead up to tonight. He felt this victory with almost the same weight as you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Liam said as he let you go. “I just really had to say congratulations.”

“Yeah, that’s what this guy was doing- meet Damiano.” You said and the two men shared a handshake.

“Oh, we’re kind of in the way here.” Liam said, noticing the influx of people coming to the bar now that the show was over. “Should we find a table?”

“Yes. You’re coming too, right Damiano?” You asked of your new companion.

“Sure.”

The three of you found a small circular table, it was away from the main activity of the club. Conversation could be had without the need to shout over obnoxious background noises. You had some more sips of your provided cocktail.

“Was it as scary as you thought it would be?” Liam asked.

“Yeah. The anxiety was very real. I think that if I hadn’t prepared as much…” You said, pointing to the words on the back of your hand. “...I would have fallen flat on my face.”

Damiano’s eyes had remained on your hand. “Ah, I was wondering what all of that was about.”

“It’s my cheat sheet, I do it with pretty much everything.” You said, twisting your wrist before you placed the palm of your hand on the table in front of him, allowing him to read. “I was gonna make a joke about it, call myself out on it…” You indicated to one of the dot points about halfway down the very abbreviated list. “It’s really practical and helpful in some situations. But it’s not always welcome. My ex-boyfriend wasn’t exactly a fan of me looking at the notes on the back of my hand when we were mid-boning.”

Damiano burst out laughing at that. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. He would think it was weird, taking out the spontaneity compromised the romance, or whatever.” You said.

“Because he was so incredible at all the romantic stuff.” Liam sarcastically commented with a rolling of his eyes.

“What kind of notes did you need for sex?” Damiano asked, still half-laughing.

“I was working on a new blow job technique. And you do not know me well enough to ask any follow up questions about that.” You warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said before swiftly changing the topic, pointing to a different idea on your list. “That bit, that was my favourite, I think I laughed the hardest at that.”

You looked to where he was indicating. “About my parents getting divorced instead of getting me a pet bunny?”

“Yes, the way you told that was hilarious. And so succinct, but I was on the emotional journey with you, and then… no rabbit.” He said.

“Mum is gonna be pissed that I told that story.” You said, glancing at Liam. “She always gets so cranky when she hears me joking about it.”

“What does she have to be cranky about? She wasn’t the one cheated out of a rabbit.” Damiano said.

“I know.” You loudly agreed.

“I keep telling her to just buy one for herself.” Liam said.

You had another sip of your drink before shaking your head. “No, I’ve Googled, they’re actually a lot of work, kinda high-maintenance.”

This set Damiano off laughing again. “But you’re still mad that you didn’t get one as a kid?”

You maintained eye contact with him, wearing a serious expression. “It’s the principle of the thing, sir.”

“You’re so damn funny.” He said. “If you’re not a full-time comedian, then what’s your day job?”

You looked at Liam, he was starting to smirk as he leaned in. Then you returned your full attention to Damiano. “I work retail. You’ve probably heard of the shop I work at.” He cocked his head to one side, clearly curious. “The Tool Shed.”

His eyes grew incredibly wide in an instant - filled with recognition and some other emotions. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the blush rising in his cheeks as he changed how he was sitting. “Mm-hmm.” He said, sucking on his bottom lip a little. “Yep, I believe I’ve heard of that place.”

It was Liam who began laughing first, he was never unamused when seeing someone’s reaction to the fact that you worked at a sex shop. The reaction could reveal a person’s true colours, probably earlier than they anticipated. Whatever Damiano had been expecting, he hadn’t gotten it. You laughed too, enjoying catching him off guard. He started to laugh as well, appearing to loosen up again.

“Good for you.” You said. “Admitting to it, I mean. We’re the biggest adult entertainment shop in Rome, literally everybody knows about us. But there are two types of people- the ones who lie and play dumb, or the ones not afraid to be honest.”

“Congratulations, you’re in the category that we like.” Liam said before getting to his feet. “I’m gonna get a soda.”

Damiano didn’t take his eyes off of you for a second, he leaned in closer across the table. “In the spirit of honesty: my brain did explode a little when you said that.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I could kinda tell.”

“Where was any of that in your set?” He wanted to know. “You must have a million funny stories from working there.”

You had more of your drink. “I do, but I didn’t want to pigeon-hole myself as the sex-shop-girl. Besides, I prefer telling people one-on-one. Imagine if I had deprived myself of seeing your reaction. Anyway, what do you do with yourself?”

“I’m in a band, singer slash a bit of guitar.” He said.

“Yep, that tracks.”

His eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by that?”

“No, no offence, but I didn’t have you picked for a corporate world kind of guy. I judged the book by the cover and I judged that you weren’t selling life insurance or working in a bank.” You said.

“I could work in a bank.” He said, pretending to get defensive.

“Of course you could, sweetheart. You can do anything you set your mind to.” You teased before finishing your cocktail with a final swig. “So, tell me about your band?”

You didn’t just learn about his band (Måneskin - you had actually heard of it before, friends mentioning an interest once or twice), but you learnt a Hell of a lot about him because he was so easy to talk to. Between the two of you, the conversation flowed. You didn’t have time to look around, wondering where Liam had disappeared off to.

You continued to make Damiano laugh as he asked about your life. You returned just as many questions, wanting to hear about all of the interesting experiences he’d already had packed into his life.

There were common interests that you were quickly bonding over. He liked a lot of the same nerdy movies as you. Your sense of humour was syncing up, you didn’t have to explain any of your jabs or worry that he would take them the wrong way. He was a cat person just like you were.

You weren’t conscious of the time as it was passing. But you were forced to acknowledge it when Liam came back to the table, awkwardly announcing that he, your designated driver, had to leave shortly - he had work tomorrow, he couldn’t spend the entirety of his night in this club.

“It was really nice to meet you guys.” Damiano said, getting to his feet at the same time as you did.

“You too.” Liam replied.

“I was serious about being there in the front row for the next time you do stand-up.” Damiano said.

“I know and I was serious when I told you that I would message as soon as it comes up again.” You said. “And I’ll send you photos of Björk when I get home, given she isn’t feeling like running from me. You know how unpredictable cats are.”

“Moody little bastards.” He said.

Something in you was instructing that you give him a parting hug, which you wouldn’t normally do with a stranger. But for some reason, you wanted to.

It’ll be weird, an insistent voice in your head chimed in. You let this be the deciding vote, leaving on friendly terms, but without any further physical contact.

“I did it.” You reiterated after buckling yourself into the passenger seat of Liam’s car.

He paused to give you a longer look rather than starting the engine. “Which part are we celebrating- the stand-up or getting the cute boys’ phone number?”

“I was talking about the stand-up.” You gently corrected. “But if you think Damiano’s cute and you wanna talk about that more- we can.”

“Are you saying you didn’t find him cute?” He asked, starting to drive away from the nightclub. “Which bit wasn’t cute to you- was it all of the tattoos, how tall he is, all of that hair, his giant eyes, or did his really great sense of humour turn you off?”

“Yeah, he’s an attractive guy, but that’s not why I got his number.”

“Sure it’s not.” He said sarcastically, to which you just silently rolled your eyes - you could sense that he wasn’t going to let this point go. “It’s okay girl, he seemed into you too.”

“I wasn’t picking up on that vibe.” You said with a shake of your head.

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.” He said. “You’re just painfully unaware of the fact that you’re a catch.”

You weren’t entirely over your post-performance rush by the time you were unlocking the front door of your home, the pleasing buzz from your accomplishment keeping a smile on your lips.

But you had to keep it inside, you couldn’t risk waking your housemate - she had an early shift tomorrow. Your main goal was to find her pet cat with as little noise as possible. After talking about her so much, you wanted to show Björk off to Damiano. Your night would be incomplete if you couldn’t share a video with him.

The black, white and brown cat looked none-too-enthused by your return home as you approached her spot in the lounge room. She was at the top of her cat tower, not even raising her head to acknowledge you. She continued looking bored as you pointed your phone’s camera at her, stretching your arms out.

See how much she loves me - you sent to him following the video of the cat looking away from you.

His response was very quick, it made you wonder if he had been waiting to hear from you. The bond is very clear.

For the sake of his entertainment, you endeavoured to create a second, more amusing video. Under the cat’s watchful eyes, you swept your hair up, capturing it in a bun on top of your head. Then you got closer to the cat tower, with her gaze fixing on the elevated section of hair.

You turned your back to the tower, lifting your phone again - this time with the front-facing camera on. Björk had taken to batting at your bun before you had begun filming. You just had to make sure you held the phone steady and at the best angle as her attack went on, swiping her paw tirelessly at your hair.

You stepped away when you stopped filming, immediately sending this video to him. We think she was a high-strung hair stylist in a former life.

Before you had reached your bedroom, you were getting his response. Jeez, I thought my brother complaining about my man bun was rude. Another message was quickly following this, note to self: wear hair down when I visit your place.

It didn’t matter that you had moved away from the cat, he kept talking with you. A new conversation began and you still had so much to say to him. You fell asleep with your phone in hand.

*** *** ***

Two months had passed since that night, and ever since you had been in constant contact with Damiano. The friendship had formed effortlessly, spending countless hours sharing ideas and laughter. You never tired of his company, getting to know him incredibly well as you saw him a minimum of once every week.

When you needed to go shopping for a housewarming gift, it seemed only natural that he would accompany you. You needed a second opinion on the ideas of what to get your co-worker ahead of his party this weekend. Damiano could provide the insight of what would suit the home of a heterosexual man - a market you weren’t typically shopping for. He liked feeling useful and you knew he would keep you entertained.

But you had yet to find an item you could agree on. Wandering the aisles of the department store, you had been vetoing one another regularly. He thought a fake plant as a gift had a shady undertone. Buying a laundry hamper for someone felt like something a mum would do, in your opinion. He advised you to stay away from anything decorated with flowers and he was unimpressed by every photo frame that you showed him.

“Why don’t you get this for him?” Damiano suggested, taking a box down from the shelf. “I’m sure Nathan will love this.”

Instead of accepting the box that he held out to you, you gave it a sceptical look. “A wireless charging station?” You just raised your eyebrows as he pushed it further into your personal space. “That doesn’t strike me as a very personal gift.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s practical. I have one, it’s a game-changer.” He said. “If you really want it to be personal, you can get a sharpie and write his name on it. Problem solved, you are so very welcome.”

You took the object from him, getting his hopes up momentarily. But then you returned it to the shelf. “I’m not, though. I don’t want to get him something that he could easily go out and buy for himself. Personal, that’s a really important factor here.”

“If it’s so fucking important, then why isn’t it written on the back of your hand?” He asked.

You considered the back of your hand, which was free of any kind of list for once. “Oh, the back of this hand? Did you wanna get a closer look at it, maybe as I’m smacking you upside the head with it?”

Instead of challenging you further, he took half a step away from you. “We need to get out of the tech section. We’re not gonna find anything with a personal touch here.”

He didn’t hesitate to leave the aisle, but you took your time, looking at the stock all around you. For the moment you weren’t thinking about Nathan, considering products for yourself.

A man saying your name distracted you, it wasn’t Damiano’s voice. And when you looked up, you immediately wished it was him, rather than the man approaching you. But you fixed a smile to your face, covering the fact that you were cringing inside.

Brad, it had been almost a full year since you had last seen him, the best friend of your ex-boyfriend. He had been around quite regularly, loving to remind you that he knew your boyfriend better than you ever would. His other favourite ‘jokes’ had revolved around the age-gap in your relationship. When you broke up with Chad, you had removed him and any of his friends from your social media, and you hadn’t looked back for a single second.

“Wow, what are the chances of bumping into you here?” Brad marvelled, wearing a smile that easily bested yours.

Silently you cursed the luck that had seen your paths crossing. “Kinda crazy.”

“You look really, really great.” He said after giving you an up-and-down assessment, which lingered at your chest - far from the first time you had caught him looking at your tits.

“Oh, thanks. And you- yeah, you too.”

He had walked over to stand directly in front of you, closer than what was necessary, bringing the strong scent of his cologne into your nostrils. “Thanks. I renewed my gym membership and I’ve actually been using it, not just wasting my money.”

“That’s cool.” You said.

“Are you seeing anybody new?” He asked. “Pretty little thing like you probably had a line waiting to take Chad’s place, huh?”

“I don’t know about that.” You said and he went on grinning, his amusement frustrating you. “I’ve mostly just been concentrating on myself, not really seeing anyone right now.”

His eyes moved down the entirety of your body again. “How have you been?” He asked, then kept on talking before you had the chance to respond. “I thought about reaching out to you, like a million times. Because the way things ended with you and Chad- that was really shitty.”

‘Don’t remind me’, you thought bitterly. He had only gotten the cliff notes. He hadn’t been there for the weeks of loud arguments, he hadn’t seen Chad throwing your phone and other belongings out the window of his apartment. You doubted Chad’s retellings had included all of the rude names he had called you, he was probably the hero in his version.

“And I wanted to know if you were okay through it. But I figured I wasn’t the person you would want to talk to, so I gave you space and all of that.” Brad said. “I don’t really talk to Chad that much anymore, you don’t have to worry about me running to him after this, with a report about bumping into you.”

This didn’t clear you of much discomfort. “Oh, that’s good.”

“We should hang out…” He said.

In the corner of your vision, you saw movement and Damiano was coming over. You were swept with relief, fighting against the urge to run over to your friend. He was respectfully keeping from rushing into the conversation, more polite than you needed him to be right now.

“Chad’s out of the picture, but that doesn’t mean me and you can’t stay friends and, you know…” Brad said, a certain look in his eyes.

You had no idea how to respond, so you grasped for the closest thing to a life-preserver that you had. “Damiano.” You held your hand out to him. “You’ve gotta meet Brad.” You were extremely grateful when he took your hand, safety. “This is my friend, Damiano.”

“What’s up, man?” Brad’s voice was completely monotone and his eyes were on Damiano for less than a second. “Anyway, we should get a coffee or dinner or you could come to my place, so we could catch up properly. I’d really like to catch up with you, honey.”

You took half a step back from him, your need to be polite dwindling as you considered hiding behind Damiano. “Actually, I’m busy with work lately and my weekend is already full, so…”

“So another time then.” Brad said. “Let me give you my number.”

You just blinked at the open palm of his hand, where he was expecting you to place your phone. “Uh, I’ve already got it. From that Halloween when Chad lost his phone.”

Brad continued to hold his hand out. “That was my old number, I got a different one when I updated my phone- got the new iPhone.”

“Hey, I’ve got something to show you a few aisles over.” Damiano told you with a brief squeeze of your hand. “The perfect thing for that party you’re going to this weekend.”

“Well hang on pal, we’re trying to get something organised here.” Brad said. “I really think we should catch up. I’ve missed you, haven’t you missed me?”

Instead of answering, you looked at Damiano, who was taking in all of this with his eyebrows raised very high. His eyes darted over to you and he seemed to know what you needed, speaking up again. “What exactly would she have missed about you- your horrible cologne or your inability to take a hint?”

“Excuse me, and who are you?” Brad asked, no longer expecting you to hand over your phone. “I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

“But check this out, you’re getting it anyway. Aren’t you lucky?” Damiano responded, full of that irrepressible sass that had you mentally cheering him on. “It’s time for you to take a seat, son.”

“Son?” Brad repeated - you made a mental note to tease Damiano over this later. In a less tense moment, it would be funny that he had called a man almost a decade older than him ‘son’.

“She’s just being polite but you hitting on her like this isn’t welcome, it’s making her uncomfortable. Which would be obvious to you if you were talking to her like an actual human.” Damiano said, eloquently expressing himself even though his annoyance was clear. You weren’t taking any notice of how Brad was reacting, as your heart was racing, your eyes were locked on Damiano. He appeared taller in this moment and you were admiring him like never before.

“But you don’t know how to do that and I sincerely feel sorry for the women in your life.” He said, finally finding what it took to get Brad to move back. “So take a seat, you can take several seats. We have a housewarming party to shop for.”

Maybe Damiano had another comeback in mind (possibly more than one) because he didn’t instantly walk away, instead giving Brad the opportunity to respond. But the man from your unpleasant past was silent and you were freed of this interaction. He took a step back, his eyes going down to the ground.

Damiano checked on you before turning and walking away, still holding your hand. You went with him, feeling a surge of more than just relief. Before you had left the aisle, you were already smiling. You didn’t know where he was going, but you were happy to be going with him, buzzing with every step.

“What a sleaze.” He commented. Then he held up a pink, stuffed bunny toy, which you had been too flustered to notice him holding until now. He passed it to you. “I found you a pet rabbit.”

You were blushing as you accepted the plushie. “Sweetie.”

Hand-in-hand, you walked past five aisles before he turned down one, determining this to be far enough from Brad. You walked about halfway down the aisle, surrounded by home security wares as Damiano placed himself in front of you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his brow furrowed as he concentrated only on you.

“Sure, I’m fine. I just feel like I need to do this…” You pushed invisible dirt off of each of your forearms, as if Brad’s very presence had brought grime to your skin. “There’s someone I didn’t need to bump into. He’s not the top of the list, but still…”

“Yeah, I could tell that it wasn’t a happy reunion for you. And with what you’ve told me about what Chad did to you, I figured you wouldn’t want to be reminiscing on that time in your life.”

Damiano was one of the only people in your life that you had told the full story of your breakup to. You didn’t indulge the misery inside of you by thinking about it very often and you really didn’t like talking about it. But you trusted him. And he had returned that trust, telling you about the breakup he had gone through not long before your meeting, the end of a two year relationship.

“You’re right, thank you.” You said. “Ugh, I hate confrontation, but you just handled that so well.”

“I didn’t say anything out of line, did I?”

“No, I was happy- I liked everything you said. Like, damn, seeing you all protective like that, it really makes me wonder what you’d look like between my thighs.” You said, maintaining eye-contact, even as you felt butterflies filling your tummy.

This wasn’t followed by an instant comeback from him, it seemed that he needed time to register this information. He stared at you, a new smile growing on his face. You smiled back, part of you in disbelief that you had said it, the rest of you very glad that you had. Your fingers fidgeted against the soft fur of the rabbit as you waited for him to move past this uncharacteristic quietness.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked.

You didn’t want to laugh and try to pass it off as a joke, instead you stepped in closer to him. “I think you know what I mean, sweetheart.”

He watched you as you raised your empty hand, holding it to his cheek. He was licking his lips as you got in closer, until you could reach his mouth with yours.

Gently, he kissed you back and you were soon feeling your heart racing. The rest of the large shop faded away as you leaned into him more. You savoured how exciting this was, as well as how natural it felt, as if you should have been doing this all along.

You deepened the kiss, unwilling to let this be short. You loved the feeling of his arm slipping around your waist, bringing so much security. It made you want to kiss him for hours, to make up for lost time. It made you want to go on discovering him in this way, to keep going until you were drunk on him.

Before pulling away, you couldn’t help swiping your tongue against his lip - feeding your curiosity because his taste was all that you wanted to know.

You watched his eyes slowly flutter open, you weren’t minding his silence so much now. The hand not holding onto the toy moved down to hold his and it was like holding his hand for the first time. You stayed close, studying his face like never before as he started smiling.

“Do you want me to explain what I mean?” You offered.

“No, I wanna take you back to my house.” He said and you didn’t know if you had ever heard a more seductive offer in your life. Already you knew this would be different to any of the other times you had been to his apartment. “I wanna know more about being between your thighs.”

Your cheeks were burning hot as you nodded. “Good, ‘cause that’s what I want, right fucking now.”

He gave your hand a keen squeeze, but he didn’t immediately begin walking for the exit. “What about buying the gift?”

“I’ll order the charging station online, whatever.”

“So now it’s a good enough gift?” He asked, looking a little smug.

But you just rolled your eyes. “That’s the thing you’re choosing to concentrate on right now?”

“Right.” He said and he spared you any bragging. “What about the rabbit?”

You didn’t hesitate to stuff it onto the closest shelf, where it immediately stood out as an imposter. “It’s not coming home with me.”

“But I am?” He asked, grinning as he clearly forgot all about the toy.

“That’s right.”

You thought about kissing him again. But before you could act on this, he was making a hurried exit from the aisle, your hand secured in his. You were beaming as you rushed to keep up with him. He didn’t slow down and you didn’t ask him to, this quickness matched the racing of your heart. You were too excited to remember to fear another bump into Brad and very soon you were power walking through the doors.

*** *** ***

Damiano had never touched you like this before, but he did it all without hesitation. This new level of closeness didn’t intimidate him and he wasn’t unsure of where he wanted to put his hands, making you wonder how much time he had dedicated to thinking about this before today.

You had thought about it. Not instantly after meeting him, but it was an idea that had begun popping up. As you spent time together, it would occur to you that you had the opportune moment to make a move and you had seriously considered it more than once. But you would always find a reason to stop yourself.

But there was no stopping now. Everything leading up to you reaching his bedroom had passed in a fast blur. There had been grabbing as you both explored, whispered requests and you were starting to learn his kissing technique.

The excitement was sizzling in the air between the two of you as you stood in his bedroom, removing clothing. You were seeing tattoos on him that you had never seen before and he was seeing all of your scars for the first time. You were so eager to see what came next.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He said, bringing your naked body into his arms so that he could secure more kisses. You shut your eyes as you sank into this embrace. His hands were tender as they moved over so much bare skin. “I wanna absolutely worship you…”

Having never heard this before, you couldn’t help but smile. You caressed the nape of his neck as you looked into his eyes, seeing great anticipation reflected back to you. “That sounds really romantic, sweetheart. But what does that mean, it’s kinda vague.”

“You’re right. Let me make it clear for you, yeah?” He asked. “Please, lay down on your back for me.”

You did this instantly. It felt like it had been years since you had last experienced intimacy. And you had never had it like this before. As you automatically spread your thighs, you struggled to recall a partner that you had been this honest with. You felt safety as you looked at that familiar face, even as he looked at you in a different way. In this security, you were granted the luxury of being vulnerable, you wanted to serve your vital connection by holding nothing back.

He had brought his knees down to the mattress, towards the end of the bed. As leaned down closer to you, his eyes swept up-and-down your body, lingering the longest on your face. He studied your expression, looking for a reaction that suggested you needed to stop.

When he didn’t get this, he progressed with getting into position to eat your cunt. Your heart was pounding as you watched all of this, acutely aware of how his body heat reached your skin before you felt his touch. You had never had a man begin with cunnilingus before, not without an exhaustive amount of begging from you.

You were so keen that you couldn’t help squirming before he’d had the opportunity to lower his head down to your crotch. The ends of his long hair tickled at your thighs, until you gathered it up in your hands, twisting some of the strands around your fingers. You watched as his brown eyes got locked onto your cunt and you sucked in a quick breath.

His fingers were gentle as they went to your labia, parting them just enough to get your moist clit exposed to him. You let out a shaky sigh when he touched his lips to your clit, greeting the hood with a little kiss. You were immediately invigorated by this feeling, getting your hopes up at this seemingly promising start.

He didn’t shy away from giving your clit more attention. You rested your head down on his pillow, your thighs opening wider as he trained his tongue onto the hood, working it back-and-forth in a luxurious massage. So many sensitivities sprang to life inside of you and his unhurried movements made it seem like he had the time to explore all of them. You sank into this teasing as you happily floated away from everything else.

Needy whines were falling from your lips when he placed his mouth around your clitoral hood so that he could begin sucking on it. This intensity had you seeing little stars in your vision. You felt so much blood surging into the hood, until all of your cunt seemed to be aching. You tilted your pelvis and he kept your legs from moving by placing his hands to each of your thighs.

“Fuck. You are really good at this.” You told him as more of your body was rocked by these dazzling sensations.

He let your clit slip out from between his lips and lifted his head, gazing up at you. “Thanks babygirl. And I don’t even need notes on the back of my hand to help me give good head.”

You frowned in response to the very pleased smile on his face and you made to reposition your leg. “Prepare to be kicked, I will kick you in that smug, pretty boy face.”

He laughed, unbothered by your threat. He ensured that you couldn’t act upon this by grabbing both of your ankles, his fingers wrapped tight as he forced them onto the mattress. Your heart was launched into your throat as he quickly transferred his grip to your knees, holding them down. He met your gaze and you could see he was still smiling, still happy with himself.

You were without any further threats, nor did you have any sassy comments to make. You were just concentrating on how it felt to have him pinning your legs down, how it made you desire him all the more. You knew you wouldn’t be able to easily get yourself free and you loved it, you wanted to know more of his control.

You were even wetter when he returned his mouth to your pussy. You were so happily at his mercy as he kept a consistent pressure on your knees.

He glided his tongue over the hood in one smooth motion. Then the next thing you were feeling was just the tip of his tongue, reaching down to give the hood something like a poke. It was over just as quickly as it had begun. Then you were feeling it again-and-again as he bobbed his head, bouncing the tip of his tongue against your clitoral hood.

Your breathing had become laboured but you smiled as you enjoyed these quick bursts of contact. His firm tongue was building up tingles inside of you, ready to surge through all of you. The moments when your clit was allowed to pulse against his tongue were so thrilling, filling you with something more powerful than butterflies and you knew they could take you higher. But the moments in between were exciting as well, your nerves on edge as you tried to recover from his last tap, while attempting to prepare for the next.

He worked according to his own tempo. You were enjoying this masterful teasing so much that you found yourself beginning to laugh, a desperate, gasping sound that you had no control over.

You sought out a use for the tension gripping you and so you set your hips into motion. You rode the waves of pleasure, synchronising with him occasionally.

You liked this indulgence so much that you kept at it, steadily rocking into his face. You continued going, even when he stopped bouncing his tongue to go back to sucking on your clitoris. The stakes were higher this time around, prompting your knees to twitch and tremble under his hands.

The way that he wiggled his head paired perfectly with the way you were rolling your hips. It wasn’t just teasing anymore, with every single inch of your clitoris being stimulated it was getting to be mind-blowing. He was taking full advantage of all of the sensitivities in this very concentrated area and you were obsessed with it.

“Mmn…” You moaned as your grinding into his face got more powerful and you began to partially sit up.

You could sense the edge coming and it intimidated you. You grabbed his hand with one of yours and he instantly held it back, letting you squeeze. Your other hand went to your mouth, somewhat muffling the sounds that were coming in more frequently.

The trembles in your body had become non-stop and there were even more stars in your vision. Your heart sat in your throat as you continued to enjoy the intensity of his lips caress.

Your breathing skipped and you came undone. Your entire body jolted, feeling the dazzling surprise. Your knees shot up and you forced yourself into his face with all of the strength that you had.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck…” You whimpered as you well and truly captured the peak.

Your clit continued to pulse as he pulled back. Your chest was burning as you looked down and placed your hands to his cheeks. His eyes were sparkling as they reached your face, surveying you again.

“Are you alright, babygirl?” He asked, repositioning his body between your legs.

“More than.” You felt like you were stating the obvious as you said it. “Get on top of me, right fucking now.”

“Let me get a condom.”

You were still filled with so much desire, hardly worn out from your orgasm as you watched him covering his boner with latex. You weren’t done enjoying him in this way, stuck wondering how much higher he could take you.

You could taste your pussy on his lips as soon as he started to kiss you, his mouth hungrily reclaiming yours. He kissed you deep enough to steal away what little breath you did have.

He laid down on top of you, his body comfortably fitting with yours. In the process, your mouths didn’t separate, chasing more of this connection. He wrapped one arm around your middle, holding you tight, skin pressed on skin like never before. Soon you were experiencing the sensation of melting into each other.

You draped one of your arms over his shoulders, so very happy with this embrace. Your hand moved up the back of his neck, synchronising with how you eased your tongue forward, teasing it between his lips. You held the back of his head as you guided your tongue deeper, pushing over the top of his.

You had been feeling his cock all along, its stiffness pressing against you and trying to gain your attention. You instantly noticed when he repositioned to get it closer to your pussy and you responded by moving your thighs further apart. He fit into this space perfectly.

You slid your tongue against the roof of his mouth as he slowly stuffed himself into you. He was whining as your cunt eagerly hugged to the first couple of inches of his cock. His receptive head was engulfed and the arm holding you tensed.

He drew back from your mouth with a gasp. Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of him licking his lips. His face remained very close to yours as ragged breaths fell from his mouth. He adjusted his weight on top of you, his ever-watchful eyes still monitoring all of your reactions.

“You’re just so beautiful.” He said and you wanted to remember this look on his face for the rest of your life - how did this keep getting more intimate? Surely a limit would soon be reached.

“And I bet that- well, I wanna see if you get even sexier when you come.” He said.

You smiled as you wrapped one of your legs around his waist. “Yeah, that’s what you wanna see?”

“Yeah.” He echoed you immediately.

You rolled your hips up, taking a little more of him into your pussy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He repeated, his eyelids briefly fluttering when you plunged forward another time.

There was a feeling of pressure on your tender clit as you gave another thrust, making the movement of your body with his even more significant.

As he began experimenting with his range of motion, more of his dick disappeared inside of you. Soon you were writhing into him, encouraging the swinging of his hips. You held tighter to him, embracing this momentum.

He had established a rhythm, still sliding more of his length into you. His eyes remained on your face, not a single reaction went unnoticed as he concentrated on your enjoyment.

You loved the feeling of grinding against him as you matched his tempo, meeting him thrust-for-thrust. You were safe to go higher with him, unafraid to make more honest sounds as the pleasure kept increasing. Those stars were back in your vision.

He bottomed out with a gasp, his hips on yours pinning you down to the bed. You both paused, your bodies settling into this new closeness. Then he bumped his nose against yours, tilting his head until he could capture your lips in a kiss.

As you concentrated on kissing him, the fluttering of your sensitive inner-walls continued beyond your control. The eager, unpredictable spasming made it impossible for him to remain still for very long. You welcomed the friction that came with this and you joined the momentum as soon as you could.

When he picked up speed, you kept up with him. Desperation dictated your movements and you could feel each collision having so much impact. It was getting harder to breathe but you didn’t mind, just enjoying how deep these stimulations were reaching. It was so intense, poised to take over every part of your body.

He let out a choked sob after your lips parted. Listening to his laboured breathing, you could notice his rocking had lost some of its smoothness. His hand went to the pillow beside your head, muscles flexing as he gripped it in a fist.

“You feel so- oh- good.” He moaned, his approval making your heart do a little somersault.

“So do you, sweetheart.” You said over the consistent noises of your skin slapping together. “Keep fucking me. Please keep fucking me just like that, Damiano.”

“I think that I- oh, I’m close.” His words came out in a strained whisper and you could clearly see the effort on his face. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” You asked with a smile, paying attention to the little changes he already displayed.

He had said he wanted to see you come, but now it was you who wanted to watch. You wanted to know how he looked in that moment of perfection, how he reacted to it.

“Yeah.” He said shakily.

“Do it, you should do it.” You purred, giving him a quick kiss.

He was holding his eyes shut as he kept still. A crease had formed between his eyebrows and his breathing was heavier than ever. “I don’t think I can hold off.”

You tightened your leg around him and grinded a little. “Do it, come. Be a good boy and come for me.”

His bottom lip trembled and he whispered your name before easing himself back into motion. You gathered up handfuls of his long hair, holding it away from his face, your view unobscured as he kept getting quicker. It was a rhythm you didn’t have the strength to match as you just rode out the rapidly increasing pleasure.

It only took a few more enthusiastic thrusts to get him over that edge. His orgasm was reached with a triumphant whine as he latched onto his bottom lip with his teeth. He stopped mid-plunge into you, the creases leaving his face as he secured his delight.

You were watching the fluttering of his eyelids before his head slumped. He brought his forehead down to rest against your shoulder, sighing heavily. You played with his hair, feeling how he continued to throb inside of you.

“I didn’t mean to- I didn’t- that’s not how-...”

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

He groaned, keeping his head down. “I couldn’t help it, but I didn’t want to come first. I wanted it- fuck…”

“It’s not a big deal.” You said.

He groaned again, sounding truly displeased. “The woman should always come first. That’s what I think, and usually I can…”

“What… are you seri-...?” You tried to manually lift his head. “I did come.” This got the desired reaction and he looked up at you. “When you were going down on me, I came. I told you that you’re really good at-...”

“I didn’t know you came from that.” He said, seeming that he was coming back into himself.

“Oh. I didn’t know that you didn’t know.” You said. You nuzzled your nose against his, smiling as an opportunity presented itself. “I bet you could make me louder, so loud that it’s crystal clear this time.”

He smiled back as he braced himself by putting his hands on the bed. “I’d love that.”

You leaned in, your lips hovering less than an inch from his. “Do it, sweetheart. Get me off again.” You kissed him, giving him a greater sense of how eager you remained. “I know you can do it.”

He was still smiling when he started to move again, rocking his hips as he stayed buried deep inside of you. He hovered over you, watching how you took it when he established the rhythm.

You let your eyes flutter shut, those twinkling stars ready to greet you at once. You didn’t quite match his movements as you rolled your hips, but the motion felt good, all of your body invested in these wonderful sensations.

It was all enough to take you higher and you didn’t resist any of the noises that were soon rising up inside of you. You weren’t using your hand to muffle these moans. You let them come out loudly, celebrating your pleasure without any shame. His enjoyment of this was obvious as he pounded into you quicker and harder.

It was building to something truly spectacular, you knew this as fact as you kept writhing and trembling underneath him. You could see the stars expanding in your mind’s eye as your inner-walls spasmed relentlessly around him. The desperation gripped you like never before, going straight to your head until every thought was blocked out.

“Fuck.” You cried out in response to every bit of intense stimulation shooting at a direct path to your core. You simply couldn’t hide, you would be shortly overwhelmed.

“Come, babygirl.” He cooed, his words marked with exertion. “Come for me.”

The stars in your eyes became fireworks, fizzing and bursting in a fabulous display. Your body rocketed up into him for one last collision before you were pushed over the glorious edge. You loudly rejoiced as you surrendered all control.

The next thing you were aware of was your body slumping back onto the mattress as you greedily sucked in as much air as possible. You were still seeing the glow of the fireworks as he carefully pulled out. You felt him applying soft kisses to your face, but you were still too far gone to react to this.

You were gradually coming back into yourself as he laid down next to you. He initiated the beginnings of a cuddle with one arm around you and you savoured this continuing closeness. It wasn’t long before you were cuddling him back.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were instantly taking in the sight of his bright smile. It made your heart flutter a little and you found yourself reflecting on the first time you had seen him smiling at you like this. You supposed he’d been in possession of a piece of your heart ever since he had made that night for you - this was a conclusion you probably should have seen coming. As you inched closer to him, you smiled back. You enjoyed seeing him in this new light.

“Do you feel worshipped, babygirl?” He asked and you sensed you could get addicted to him calling you this nickname.

“God, yes.”

“Excellent, because there’s more where that came from.” He told you before covering your lips in enthusiastic kisses.

»»————-　♡　————-««  

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[filthforfriends]

Chapter 19: Northern Lights

Author's Note

Word count: 8.2k

Read the rest here!

Operating on autopilot, you brush your teeth while a sense of existential dread settles just under your sternum. It's heavy, asphyxiating. Today was gonna be hard. Largely because you weren’t allowed to have a hard day since it’d been Damiano that had a crisis: relapse. He needed your support and you’re pondering the extent of this responsibility when the drug test on the back of the toilet catches your eye. Somehow, you’d forgotten about it.

Negative for everything. Except marijuana, which Dami had already disclosed. Overwhelmed, you slide down to the floor with your back against the wall. You didn’t feel anything. Not relief, nor anger. Not even disappointment. Stranger than numbness was the urge to cry when your eyes won’t even tear up. Standing upright then spitting out the foamy toothpaste, you stare at your reflection. Cry. If you’re gonna do it, do it. Because after this you need to be strong. So cry. Fucking cry. The tears don’t come. Your dry eyes burn, and despite sleeping relatively well, you look drained of life force.

In the name of coping mechanisms, you devote an extra five minutes to a makeup look that always makes you feel put together and pretty. Today it comes off as clownish. The blush is too intense and the eye shadow garish. There isn’t enough time to take it off and start again so you avoid looking in the mirror and shift focus to getting dressed. One thing at a time. Pairing this mantra with caffeine will likely be the only force propelling you through today. One thing at a time still feels like more than you could handle, but not functioning wasn’t an option, either. Your chest tightens.

“Hey, goodmorning.” Damiano’s voice startles you. He typically got up around when you left for work.

“Shit! What time is it?”

“It’s 8:07, don’t worry.” Dami harshly clears his throat twice, trying to get rid of his gravelly morning voice. It's almost an accurate replication of normalcy, except he won’t look at you. Damiano begins making espresso and his eyes briefly dart in your direction.

“What do you want for breakfast?” The moment’s cognitive dissonance is truly formidable. 

“I –” Obviously he was trying to make last night up to you. Should you accept? Do you even want to?

“I – no! No. You – we’re not just gonna skip to this part.” He looks so fucking wounded, a kind of woundedness that can only be achieved when you’re not expecting the pain. Only visible for a second, then he hides it. Still, you’re in agony.

“You – I need…I – don’t do that! Don’t make that fucking face at me. It’s been less than 12 hours and we were sleeping most of them. How can you reasonably expect me to have processed last night in less than 12 hours?”

“You’re right, it's not fair. I guess that I –”

“If you know it's not fair then why are you so fucking destroyed over it!? I can’t –” You stare out the window, thanking whatever cosmic entity may be that you can’t cry right now.

“I’m sorry.”

“No!” Your voice comes out high pitched and guttural in anguish. “No, don’t –” You stamp your foot. It was a childhood habit that you loathed, but still made an appearance in moments of emotionally charged exasperation.

“I’m sorry. I was just, I was just…” He trails off, staring at the floor. You stomp across the apartment and briefly strangle him in a hug. Dami is so surprised that by the time he embraces in return, you’re pulling away, keeping your gaze fixed on the chipped corner of the kitchen cabinets. Because meeting his eyes up close, even for a millisecond, might be more than you can bear. With a large step back, you attempt verbal communication.

“Don’t apologize for having an emotional reaction.”

“I’m sorry for relapsing.”

“That you can apologize for.” Next you stare at the catch all basket by the door and feel your face heat up. “I just can’t take you looking so devastated over me not wanting to play house right now.” Had you not demanded last night that he disclose the hardship of Substance Abuse Disorder to you? This morning he does so for all of two nanoseconds and you react like this. 

“No, I’m sorry. I take it back.” Of what you can see out of the corner of your eye, Dami’s expression is perplexed.

“You take what back?”

“That reaction. I want to know what you’re genuinely feeling right now. I want to support you through this.” You steel yourself before meeting his eyes, but Dami is, again, intent on staring at the ground. He presses his lips together while rapidly shaking his head.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be, ugh…” Damiano sighs heavily. In the background, the water boils audibly. He returns to his task of making espresso while crafting a sentence. One hand is braced against the counter. It's the same hand that caressed the bare skin of your stomach last night. What the fuck had you been thinking? Even while disparaging yourself, you can feel how sturdy and reassuring and loving Damiano’s body was as it lay behind you. He couldn’t have pulled you any closer without undressing. And it felt so natural.

“You shouldn’t be consoling me. I’m the only one that should be apologizing, even if you’re angry, if you yell at me, whatever. And you don’t, ugh…” Dami uses the hand not bracing to gesticulate. “Supporting me through relapse doesn’t mean not being pissed at me. I – that reaction,“ he points towards the bathroom, “was perfectly fine. It was fine. I just wasn’t sure how to acknowledge what happened and be like ‘oh, hey! Sorry I relapsed. Can I make you breakfast? Not in I’m-making-amends-through-this-gesture-and-if-you-accept-I-will-expect-it-to-count-towards-my-forgiveness kinda way, but in a I’m-up-and-want-to-do-something-nice- for-you kind of way.” You take a beat to think and settle on meeting him in the middle.

“I will take an omelet and a double, please.”

“Okay.” He sighs in relief and sort of smiles. Also inhaling deeply for the first time since probably yesterday, you return your focus to getting ready. When selecting a pair of shoes, the safe at the bottom of the closet is a reminder to give Dami back his phone and keys. The memory of the night before comes crashing down; his suicidal ideation, how tortured he was by self-hatred. You end up on all fours, studying the scratched floor of your closet while weathering this rat’s nest of emotions.

You’d let Dami back into your life knowing relapse was inevitable and deciding it was an inevitability you were prepared for. However, he’d been so even keel since coming home that it made yesterday jarring as a reality check. 

“Hey, um,” he knocks on your bedroom door, tone uncertain.

“Come in.” You don’t feel short of breath until your voice comes out as such. Dami slowly opens the door, holding your plate and espresso.

“You okay?” 

“Just getting your stuff out of the safe.”

“Oh.” Awkwardly, he steps out of the room and turns his back. You’re so caught up that, on the first try, you enter in the wrong code. The safe beeps abrasively and a small light at the top of the keypad flashes red. On the second try you make a point not to be frantic and get it right. 

“Okay, here you go.” The metal door of the safe slams shut. Your nervous system is so fried that you jump, heartbeat skipping.

“Right.” Damiano swivels, both hands occupied with your breakfast just as both of your own hands are occupied with his belongings. In disjointed gestures you try to exchange the items before realizing it's physically impossible.

“Let's set it on the dining room table.”

“Right, yes. Good idea.” You cringe at the silence following Damiano putting the dishes down. “Um…okay, so now you will be late if you don’t leave soon, actually,” he calls from the kitchen.

“Shit!” You pull on your most well-worn pair of boots. Even scurrying around the apartment, they omit a sophisticated click each time the sole collides with the flooring. Upon making it to the door, you look back to see Dami sitting at the table and eating. In front of your empty chair is the untouched omelet and full cup of espresso he’d so tenderly made for you. The scene was reminiscent of a date night. As if he’d cooked dinner for two, then been stood up. So Damiano was left to eventually eat his meal all alone, after accepting you wouldn’t show. Cold food and wondering what he’d done wrong.

Dami isn’t reading into the moment at all. His down-turned eyes are preoccupied with his phone, but his words from last night are still fresher than a wound needing stitches. The phrase “do you a favor and throw myself off the roof” is running through your head on repeat, even when you try to direct your thoughts elsewhere. In fact, Damiano was standing almost exactly where you are now when he’d said it. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Your voice comes out frail and shaking, so much so that Dami’s head snaps up.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll be fine.” Sweetheart. He misses the slip-up because he’s preoccupied by concern, setting his fork down to examine you. “I’m just gonna treat it like any other day: eat this, work out, go to treatment.” Unable to feel your face, but aware that this is an appropriate time to nod, you consciously perform the gesture. “I mean, obviously, I don’t feel good right now, but I’ll be okay. A lot of rehab was focused on getting back on the wagon, so to speak.”

“‘Kay.” 

“Like, I hate myself right now, but I’m not gonna throw my sobriety away and go on a bender or something. Because I know that ultimately I’ll end up feeling so much shittier. Try not to worry.” He smiles in good humor: knowing, gentle, calm. “I’m sure you will anyways, but you don’t need to.” The difference in Damiano’s temperament since devoting himself to treatment is suddenly so evident. His chest isn’t puffed out with bravado, speaking from the perspective that he’s less fallible than your typical mortal. He’s not manic, you realize.

“You’re sure?” Dami’s conciliatory expression is brimming with empathy. 

“Yes, my love,” he placates, then catches himself. “Erm – y/n, sorry. Basically, I…I’ve examined my behavior a lot. Not just in the sense of hurting people, but also – I’m totally springing this on you, so I’ll skip to the point. As a person, I am done behaving that way, okay? So you’ll go to work; I’ll go to therapy where they’ll probably treat me like a pipe bomb. Then we’ll complain about how shitty our days were while eating takeout.” After the alarming way he’d spoken last night, it was a relief to hear Damiano genuinely sound like himself. The steady, resilient version of himself that predated addiction and the omnipresent hysteria.

You’d been holding out for it, gazing into the sky every night as if searching for the Northern Lights. Damiano acting like the man you fell in love with again – despite the incognizance with which he did so – was worthy of exactly this display. Opulent shades of violet and greens so electric they become yellow hurtling across a midnight canvas with the abandon of a child first learning to dance.

“Are you okay?” You’re about to say yes, out of habit, then realize that you could choose honesty over politeness and admit that the answer is no. But what’s the result? Being late for work and, in the process, interrupting Damiano’s routine. He needed the control and predictability his schedule offered, now more than ever. Allowing him to expend even an ounce of this precious resilience on comforting you was downright irresponsible. Dangerous, even, because you had no idea how much tranquility the day’s events would require. 

But it wasn’t that simple. Concealing your emotions had previously fueled communication failures which contributed to breaking up. Logically, mending things meant doing the opposite. Damiano’s simple question left you to choose between his sobriety and your relationship. The choice was obvious. You’d made it before. It was the exact choice presented to you at the time of the breakup. An event from which you feel so far removed, that it might have happened in a past life. Simultaneously, in this moment, the pain is fresh enough to sting, as if it was merely yesterday that your heart was mercilessly cleaved in two.  You want to scream, out loud, how the fuck did we end up here again? 

“Y/n?” He cocks his head then his eyebrows furrow. You remind yourself that Damiao is not your boyfriend. You cannot expect him to provide the level of comfort and support a primary partner would. If you needed it, then too fucking bad, you’d have to get it elsewhere. This was a decision you made, a boundary you’d set. Because a stronger version of the fragile girl quivering by the front door knew that Damiano solely focusing on his own wellbeing was necessary for his sobriety. So you try to pull it together and decide on reaching out to Sam during lunch break. They had the wisdom of someone twice their age with the inner serenity to match.

“Hey.” Damiano stands upright, rounding the corner of the table. The sound of the chair legs against the floor makes you flinch, breaking your train of thought. Holding a hand out, you stop Dami from approaching.

“I feel guilty for not having time to eat  the breakfast that you made me. I really don’t want to start out today with you feeling rejected or lonely and end up reaching for substances to cope.”

“I don’t feel rejected and just the thought of liquor makes me nauseous, right now.”

“Liquor…you know liquor isn’t the only thing I’m worried about.”

“Well, frankly, the other stuff is a lot harder to get, especially if you’re not willing to poison yourself. It's also fucking expensive in Rome, so I’d have to be carrying around a fuck ton of cash and look." Damiano picks his wallet up from the table and opens it. The only currency that falls out are some coins and a two dollar bill Victoria gave him for good luck. “The fuck am I gonna get with this?” He holds it up, almost grinning until he examines your features and realizes that this has been the opposite of reassuring. Dami immediately picks up on turmoil brewing beneath the surface, but little does he know that it’s more like a cataclysm. 

“You’re thinking about it.” It's a struggle to force the words out, like your body doesn’t want them to be true.

“Last night I was, yeah.” He admits it quietly, but his whole demeanor changes. Dami felt triumphant a moment ago, for not using drugs, not giving himself the means to acquire drugs. Instead of validating his achievement, you’d disregarded his triumph and replaced it with a profound feeling of defeat. It was quite literally the worst thing you could have done.

“And I know it – that I, um…” Dami sighs, nervously switching his weight back forth. “God damn it. So last night was one of my lowest moments and I really, really fucking wish you weren’t there to see it because it's not representative of who I am or how I feel. What I – baby, those were just thoughts. They were just thoughts, I promise.” His voice is so fond that your heart hurts. “I don’t ever plan on acting on them. I’m not gonna hurt myself. I know I really scared you when I said –”

“Mm mm!” You gesture for him to stop talking while squeezing your eyes shut and turning away. The urge to cry creates pressure in your throat, but the tears won’t come. So it feels like you might choke or be sick. 

“Take a deep breath,” Damiano coaches after falling silent for a moment. You comply, grounding yourself via powerful inhales through your nose, exhaling out of your mouth. It was adjacent to a breathing technique you’d learned in yoga. The feeling mostly passes.

“Okay. I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Of course.”

“I want to talk about it. I will talk about it. I just need…”

“Time to process.” He finishes your thought after observing several seconds of you staring at the ceiling, searching for the right words.

“Yes. All I want in the entire world right now is for you to focus on yourself. Get stable, do things that make you happy. Don’t worry about me.”

“...okay.” Damiano scrunches his nose up while slowly turning away, as if he’s biting back the words he’d like to say.

“Okay.” You pick up your keys and double check that you haven’t forgotten your phone. “So, I’ll see you –”

“I am worried. About you, I am worried.” The silence hangs over your heads like a noose. “You’ve got so much going on internally that I can’t read you. We’ve been together for so long that it’s really unsettling.” You’re at a loss for how to respond. “You used to be so forthright with me. Like absolutely transparent until…until things started going downhill.” Dami shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders raised in a defensive gesture. “And I want to take things at your speed. I want to fucking – to be transparent with you. But you, you…” He sighs heavily and relaxes, turning his gaze towards the window where morning light is seeping in.  

“What?” 

“I know we said we would wait until things weren’t so in flux, which –” he laughs bitterly.. “Which, god damn, I somehow made worse last night.” Damiano’s eyes return to the floor, where the big toe of his right foot is nervously tracing the seams. “I think, for my sanity, we need to look at the R.A.S. again and really talk.” R.A.S. is an abbreviation for what has been dubbed the Relationship Anarchist Smorgosboard – essentially a map of all possible relationship components. Often, polyamorous folks – yourselves included – used it as a tool to precisely define everyone’s desires and expectations. For you and Dami, the topic of non-monogamy actually resulted from discussions about relationship anarchy. So the request isn’t the issue. It's productive and healthy, even considering the metric ton of emotional labor. The strain with which Dami says “for my sanity” however, makes you nervous.

“Yeah, okay, uh…”

“Fuck me,” he groans, rubbing his face harshly. “Maybe I don’t wanna do this now. After yesterday I – you’re not gonna – I just destroyed all fucking progress!”

“I, I…I don’t know how I feel, Damia. But, obviously we don’t have to have this big heavy talk if you’re not ready for it.”

“That's not what I’m saying,” he snaps. Your left hand starts to shake at the agitation in his voice. If he gets upset, it’ll interrupt the routine keeping him intact. What will he use to deescalate then? 

“Have you taken your meds?”

“Y/n, I –” Dami’s tone is venomous and biting, but he stops himself from lashing out mid-sentence. He goes into the bathroom and takes his lithium, hands gripping onto the edge of the counter as he swallows painfully. He takes a second to manage his anger, meaning that exactly what you were trying to avoid is happening. He’s burning through that precious resilience for your sake. Each second that you watch the sharp outline of his clenched jaw, you wonder if this was the moment that Damiano dips into reserves that he needed for later in the day. 

What if he drinks again? Or worse, uses coke? Heroin? What if he goes on a bender then we don’t talk again for three months? What if he OD’s and permanently damages himself? What if he dies? It will be my fault. What if the resilience that could have prevented it is being used up this very second, right before my eyes? What if I’m signing his death sentence with my mere presence? 

“The reason I want to renegotiate isn’t really because I need to renegotiate.” Damiano speaks while still standing in the bathroom. Out of something adjacent to survival instincts, your mind has plunged you into disassociation. He may sound steadfast, but his voice barely cuts through the mental fog.

“It’s more that I want to clarify exactly where the boundaries are. So I know what I can ask because…” Dami pauses to rinse his face. The sound of water landing on the porcelain is eerily distorted from the disassociation. “Sometimes we are so connected. Like last night, not just when we were cuddling, but when you were genuinely pissed at me. I could feel your anger. You let me feel it, but then this morning you’re so far away. I don’t know what planet you’re on and we were never like that before, ever. Even at the very end, you were more present than you sometimes are now. I’m not trying to criticize you, I’m really not, but…” You force your eyes to focus when Dami goes quiet. He’s just brushing his teeth. He’s okay. 

“But I just want you to let me in and I don’t know if I can ask that as a nesting partner. Even when you’re submitting, there's like 15% you’re holding back. And I get that it's a trust issue, but when we were on the bed,” the faucet is running again. The sound is still detached from reality. “With just a vibrator between us, you let me in completely and it was amazing. Not just because of the sex! There’s other moments where we’re intimate emotionally and then this wall just comes up. It's so sudden that I don’t think you’re doing it intentionally. But I don’t know, you tell me.” Silence. Your chest hurts. “Sorry that I’m making you late for work.” Work? The anxiety of obligation yanks from inside your ribcage. Work!

You try to get a grip on reality, but have to compromise for a grip on the countertop. As soon as you begin coming back into your body, the necessity for air is overwhelming. But you can’t breathe and you’re so fucking dizzy that you can’t even focus on sustaining the most basic of bodily functions. So you try to grab the countertop again and miss again.

“Y/n?” He knows you wouldn’t just leave, unannounced. So Dami pauses his morning routine to check if you’re out of ear shot or giving him the silent treatment. Upon seeing your blanched face and restricted breathing, he feels like a dumbass for not considering the obvious third option: panic attack.  

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay, baby.” Damiano throws distinctions between boyfriend and nesting partner to the wind while taking you into his embrace. “You’re gonna be fine, piccola mia. Come here. C’mere, baby.” He hugs you loosely, but the arms around your middle are snug as Dami pulls you onto his lap, perched on the edge of the couch. For a few seconds the dissociation lingers and you don’t have control of your limbs. What follows is much worse. There's deep, intrusive stabbing pains in your chest as you fight for air. 

“You can breathe, baby. You can breathe, your body just forgot how for a second.” His tone is so calm and even, having perfected this skill over the years.

“Can’t.” Your ironclad grip on your purse finally fails and the sound of its contents hitting the floor then scattering is so that loud you shudder. “Can’t!”

“Yes, you can, piccola mia.” Finally, you regain control of your limbs, wrapping your arms around Dami while pressing your face against his shoulder. This isn’t close enough, so you turn chest to chest and wrap your legs around him too. He gives you just enough space to readjust, no communication necessary since Dami predicted this reaction. Panic attacks made you clingy when they made others claustrophobic.

“My little koala bear,” he coos. For a moment, it feels like someone’s lodged a dagger in your lungs and you cry out, intending to say his name. But, for days, you were forced to constantly implement life or death boundaries when doing so is in direct conflict with your very nature. The resulting strain morphed into blinding fear that, in holding power, you’d destroy what you loved most. What you needed as an animal, amongst a world constantly delivering over-stimulating levels of novel information. So the name – or more accurately the plea – that comes out, at 8:31 AM, is his honorific.

“Did you say ‘Daddy?’” He barely misses a beat. You nod, all the color returning to your cheeks as a blush. “Awe, do you need Daddy to help you calm down? Well, I’m right here, topolina.” He runs a hand up your spine and under your hair to firmly grasp the back of your neck. It wasn’t restricting anything, the gesture was about control. Specifically, to indicate that you had none.

“Listen to me.” His tone of voice makes you shiver. It’s just as firm as the grasp of his warm, muscular hand. “No, keep breathing. I didn’t tell you to hold your breath.” You gasp for air, hyperventilating. Damiano tsks, tucking your hair back so he can put his mouth directly to the shell of your ear. “Piccola mia, listen to me.” He dips into a baritone while whispering, breath fluttering against your eardrum. “Feel this?” Dami squeezes the back of your neck. “Mine. I decide how you breathe.” 

Oxygen. It's the first and last thing most humans have control of and he just rips that away, wholesale. Your mind is so relieved that it finally lets you cry, feel. Dami softens, slowly rocking back and forth, the same way you soothe a cholicky baby.

“Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here.” He repeats the phrase in a sing-song voice between counting the pace of your breath out loud. “We’re gonna start with four. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.” 

“Daddy,” you croak, twisting the fabric of his shirt around your fingers. It's an ugly sound, revealing just how desperate you feel. Desperate to do right by him. Desperate to keep him sober, even though you know that, ultimately, it was out of your control. But it couldn’t be out of control because you couldn’t lose him again now that you’d remembered how much you needed him. Now that you stopped subsisting on scraps in the form of memories. During the split, it had been heartbreaking to recall the dysfunctionality. Even more heartbreaking, however, were reminders of a joy more potent than you’d ever felt in your adult life.   

“Daddy, I…” need you. I’m ready to admit that you are an essential piece to the ever changing puzzle that is my life. But you can’t get the words out before the urge to sob takes over, so end up omitting a wounded whine, like when you trip over an excited dog and accidentally step on its tail.

“Oh, piccolo mia,” he laments. Apparently the noise was just as painful to hear as it was to make. You tighten your legs around Dami’s hips, knowing full well it's probably too much. He throws caution to the wind and pulls up the back of your blouse, untucking it from your pants. His hand is clammy from nerves when it touches your back.

“I’m right here. Daddy is right here, giving you all his attention. And the only thing you need to do is breathe with me.” With the movement of Dami’s hand on your skin, you begin falling into his rhythm. There's no penalty when you choke up or make a mistake. Damiano rubs circles on your back at the exact same pace with which he counts. You’re grateful that he knows not to set it on your butt or flank today. Once you’re calmer, he moves up to six counts, then eight. 

“I love you.” It’s the first thing you say when the eight counts feel manageable. “I – I need you.”

“You need me?” Dami is so pleased that his voice sounds like a warm blanket. He readjusts the position so your eyes can meet. Realizing this moment has to end, you begin clawing your way to the surface. The further you are out of subspace, the less his leaving will hurt. Damiano’s face visibly falls.

“There. You just did it. You were totally present with me then you put a wall up.”

“Don’t let go of my neck!” The words are so rushed they’re barely discernible.

“Topolina, I will never discipline you like that.” Your bottom lip trembles, but you keep your eyes on him because it's grounding. “I will never ever be callous with my sweetest Little Girl.” His words and the earnestness which accompanies them unlock a vault in your mind. It’s so well concealed that you’d hidden it from yourself, and for good reason, apparently. Every notable memory of submission to Dami comes rushing back, all at once. The hand on your neck shifts, almost negligible.

“Not ready!”

“And I’m not letting go,” he responds in his softest voice, overflowing with affection. “I’m just kissing your forehead, silly goose.” Damiano uses his grip to pull you a couple centimeters closer and tilt your head down. “Mwah! Mwah, mwah. See?” He makes theatrical noises as his lips meet your skin. It's an effort to make this stressful moment lighthearted, but your hands continue clenching the fabric of his t-shirt. When Dami moves to kiss your cheeks, he ends up wiping a couple stray tears away. You hadn’t felt them fall.

“Undo your fists. I’m not going anywhere.” Uncurling your hands takes some effort. You splay them across Damiano’s back to feel his heartbeat. Again, you’re stuck between states: being Little and functional adulthood. Correction: calling what you could reasonably achieve today “functional” was probably too generous.

“I can see you fighting it so hard, topolina. You don’t have to. I’m right here.” He thinks you’re battling subspace because of all the times you’d coped with sub-drop alone during the breakup. It’s certainly a factor, but more worrying is the fact that your brain is sabotaging both your mornings. It didn’t feel like a safe time to slip into submission. 

“I – work! Gotta, gotta…” You couldn’t afford to become non-verbal. 

“No.” Both his tone and expression were stern. “What you’re going to do is allow yourself to be 100% present with me for a few more minutes. Non-negotiable.”

“I can breathe though.”

“You’re so afraid you’re trembling,” he deadpans. Even with faltering interoception, you can sense that it’s true.

“Why’d my brain just, just…”

“It's adrenaline.” What you’d intended to ask is why in the fresh hell did my brain launch me into headspace. Damiano wraps an arm around your lower back and pulls you flush against his body, so close your noses are touching. “I need you to feel how steady I am.” For a second, the shaking gets worse as your emotions intensify, but then it lessens. With your entire being, you wanted to believe that Dami was steady, that today’s events couldn’t compromise his sobriety. His gaze is so intense that you’re both drawn in and fighting the urge to look away.

“I am okay. You are okay. Our relationship is okay. And you can get back to reality without putting five football fields of space between us. That’s what I’ve been doing a piss poor job of communicating all morning.” Embarrassed for reacting so drastically, you nod, then try to avert your eyes. Damiano doesn’t allow that. He grabs your chin and uses it to turn your face back in his direction. For a second, the urge to fawn almost takes over completely. 

“Now there she is,” he coos. “There’s my perfect Little Girl.” Your cunt throbs so you collapse forward with a dramatic groan. 

“Why you gotta say the sexiest shit when I’m trying to pull myself together?!” Damiano breaks character and laughs right in your ear, so loud that it organically brings you to the surface.

“Okay, okay. Scene over?”

“Mhm.” He begins taking his hand away which earns an agonized whine. Dami freezes.

“Scene not over?”

“No, it’s just…sudden.” You sit up which turns out to be a horrible idea because your gaze falls to Dami’s lips. Your logical mind knows not to kiss him right now. But your submissive side wants to give him everything you have and more, especially since a hand on the back of your neck is exactly the gesture he’d use to pull you in for a makeout. So you stare at his lips again before consciously tearing your eyes away.

  “This is doing wonders for my ego, watching you fight the urge to kiss me.” That earns him an eye roll. “Oh, the sass is back! So we’re feeling better then.”

“Yeah.” You look at the floor and this time he doesn’t stop you.

“Okay, I’m actually gonna take my hand away.” You brace for it, but the air is still cold and bitter against your neck. Plus, what feels like the weight of the world resumes its resting place on your shoulders. Damiano moves his hand up a few inches, onto the back of your head instead of taking it away from the area entirely. He watches for subdrop, eyes pained after seeing how crestfallen you are. Needing a respite from the intensity of this unexpected moment, you decide to let work know that you’re going to be late. The tears in your voice are recent enough to pull off a very convincing performance about your sick grandfather being in the hospital with a mystery illness.

The veteran secretary who answers the phone finds your project manager right away. She offers to give you the whole morning off, visibly piquing Dami’s interest. Based on his expression, he expects you to take it, and if not for coinciding with his treatment schedule, you would. Instead, you promise to be there within an hour.

“You didn’t want the morning off?”

“I think that we’ll both do better keeping our schedules today.” He considers this for a moment then accepts it. Dami sets both palms on your mid-thigh to indicate that this was now an adult interaction between equals.

“We need to have a tough conversation or two…or five.” He tries to make you smile, but your stomach flips instead. “Obviously not right this moment, but we both need to find space in the next couple days. It’s time.”

“You’re right. I know it, I’m just, well, scared, as per usual.”

“Yeah, me too.” You look up in surprise. Damiano was the most courageous person you knew. He was the one to call it, even though it was obvious to both of you that avoiding a discussion for any longer would be counterproductive.

“Scared about what?” He looks at you wide-eyed and sputters while gesturing to the door. “Damia, I told you not to promise me perfection because I knew it wasn’t realistic. My expectation is that you try your absolute best to stay sober and when relapse happens, you fight like hell. And I don’t want to impede your ability to do that by making you spend all your inner resources on me.” Anxiety concealed as exasperation creeps into your voice. “Which is why I didn’t take the morning off. Because I didn’t want to interrupt your routine, when that routine helps you be sober. I didn’t want to create a demand for emotional labor, when –”

“What, by having emotions?” he interrupts sharply. 

“I – yeah. You’re used to having these peaceful quiet mornings and I just…”

“Existed? Experienced things? Was a human being with needs?” 

“Yes, but I – I mean, yeah because I – You, you’re still at risk of like, like…It's more important! Your sobriety is more important.”

“Than your emotions?” He narrows his eyes as if that's an unhinged beleif.

“Yes! It's more important than my emotions. It's more important than me. It's more important than everything!” 

“No!”

“Yes!” You push his hands away and stand up, pacing to the other side of the living room.

“I am the only one that can prioritize my sobriety above all else, and I do! Despite last night, I fucking do! My sobriety can’t be your priority.”

“Why?” you snap and whip around, shooting daggers with your eyes.

“Because it's my life.”

“Ditto. I can prioritize whatever I want.”

“You have to prioritize yourself. You can’t live for somebody else!”

“Prioritizing your sobriety is living for myself because I would never be okay if you died from an overdose and you fucking know that. So I’m not sure why we’re fighting about this.”

“Because only I can keep myself sober,” he implores. 

“I fucking know that!!” you screech through gritted teeth. It's a fact that haunts all my waking hours and several of my slumbering ones. “I don’t live in some fairytale land where I control your decisions. Nor do I want to, whatsoever. But I can make your sobriety easier, so I’m damn well going, too. Today of all days!”

“It's not your responsibility!” He stands up and gestures in frustration.

“Did I say it was!?” Doubt starts to creep in as to why Damiano is hellbent on whatever point he’s making.

“You’re –”

“Am I annoying you when I try to help with your sobriety? Is that what it is?” 

“Wha – no. No.” His tone changes completely, all the wind gone from his sails.

“Fuck,” you sigh and bite the inside of your lip. “Sorry, I just did that thing where I get insecure and you have to be nice to me instead of having your feelings.”

“That’s not what just happened.”

“Seems…” You’re about to say that it seems like Damiano has to bottle up his feelings instead of getting to resolve them. And that it felt like he started to avoid fights with you pre-breakup, since you’d get all pathetic like this. Dami was so empathetic and didn’t want to deal with your occasional bouts of middle school level self-confidence, which became more numerous as things fell apart. It was the only bit of jealousy, in terms of his other partners, that had staying power: confidence. Glowing, radiant, unshakable, sexy confidence. The opposite of your insecurity, which was so powerful that it could totally warp your sense of reality, as it probably was now.

“There! That! Tell me, just fucking tell me.” Damiano’s pointing at you, so you look down at yourself, startled. “It started with you hiding your anger from me, but it's become this. Like you won’t take a single step without considering how it might impact my sobriety. You edit out everything that could possibly trigger...I don’t even know what! Like, I’ve started playing a guessing game where I try to think of anything you could plausibly say in a situation that would jeopardize my sobriety. And besides that last night, there was never anything I couldn’t handle.”

“I…” your brain feels like sludge. “A second ago was just classic insecurity, but generally…yeah. Yeah, I’ve been walking on eggshells a lot, if I’m honest.” Dami sighs in relief and approaches.

“You hold me down. You keep me sane. Not just sunshine you, but scatterbrained, insecure, anxious you. Keeps-an-extra-pair-of-pants-in-her-car-since-she-always-spills-her-coffee-driving you. Veterinarian in a past life, too competitive for board game nights, can’t stick to the grocery list, maker of near disaster via spontaneous hugs in the kitchen at the least opportune moment you. Scowls at men, but smiles at every child, and they always smile back. Picks the restaurant, but can’t pick what to order, then insists on tipping too much at bad service. All music is dancing music, borderline delusional optimist, empathy for the socially invisible, never finishes a book before starting another because she hates endings. Believes in love instead of god because she can find something to love in everyone she meets. Everyone has beauty and purpose and fascinating complexity.”

“Dami…”

“Calls me out on my bullshit when all the others are too intimidated. Remembers who I am when I forget. Understands my art when the public doesn’t, but believes that anyone can be an artist. Believes that the world is full of magic, in the form of human possible connection.” Damiano backs you against a wall, bodies barely brushing. “I could keep going,” he whispers. “You don’t have to try. Just be.”

“But I want to be sure that I’m not jeopardizing your sobriety.”

“On the off chance that moment ever comes, I will tell you. I won’t let you compromise my sobriety.” Some of that weight lifts. “The way things were when we broke up, they’re never going to be that way again. I am prioritizing my sobriety and I've got a small army of physicians helping me. You don’t need to prioritize my sobriety anymore.” He sets a hand on your ribcage, still speaking in a whisper. The moment is extremely intimate.  “It's taken care of, my love. It's time for you to be taken care of. And I know we’re gonna have this same conversation again and that's okay.” 

You loosely wrap your arms around Dami, to keep him close and extend the moment. Just based on your body language, he can tell that you’ve finally internalized what he’s been trying to say.

“I’ve been anxious about coming home and you’re gone.”

“Not going to happen. No surprises, no disappearing acts.”

“Okay.” You cast your eyes anywhere by his face. Damiano takes your jaw in his hand, coaxing you to look at him, but not demanding it as he did minutes ago. You take a couple seconds to corral your emotions first, since you can’t gauge if your reaction is gonna be more tears, hyperventilating, smiles, giddiness, or feeling lovesick. He sees this effort and presses your body into the wall using his own.

“Let me in,” he demands. You stop intentionally directing your features into an expression and wait for thoughts to come up organically. Except they don’t, so you try to recall how this worked when transparency was your first instinct with Damiano. Unfortunately, the only thing discernable is your sense of smell informing you that Dami is delicious. You’d braced for the stench of booze coming from his pores this morning, but it's not because he barely drank. So he still smells like home, plus a tiny bit sweaty from getting too hot in his sleep. That was only perceptible up close though. His skin would be salty if you licked it. You can also tell that he brushed his teeth while you were getting dressed, but that should be obvious. He wouldn’t have gotten in your space like this otherwise. 

So the urge to kiss him returns with a vengeance. You attempt to see around the obstacle to identify something of your innermost thoughts. What do I feel? How do I feel? Horny, obviously, which wasn’t exactly news. More like your resting state. It’s as if your mind is a shaken snow globe. So you’re squinting your eyes to see the miniature winter wonderland below. But all you can perceive is the mental permafrost that is wanting to ride Damiano until you collapse and this fucking blizzard obscuring your vision. 

“Y/n –”

“I genuinely can’t figure out what I’m thinking. I’m trying, I swear.” 

“Can I take a guess?” he smiles. “You’re horny.” After the initial embarrassment, you get flustered, consider hiding it, decide not to, and end up aroused. Damiano’s gaze devouring your blush certainly inspires confidence, as well.

“Actually it was way more specific than that, but sure.” You can see the progression of Dami’s emotions: aroused, realizing your transparency, excitement, even more aroused. 

“Why do you torture me?” He boxes you in with his arms and uses his pelvis to keep you pinned against the wall. When his cock twitches you smirk and raise an eyebrow, but a more serious answer crosses your mind. “Tell me, tell me,” Damiano chants.

“I don’t want to jerk you around, with the physicality stuff. Because on a couple days it’s been…I wake up feeling really steady and so do you. Then I come home and you’re reading a book on the couch and you’ve done all the laundry and I just want to fucking…slip my panties off and grind on the crotch of your jeans while we makeout until I’m sore. And then maybe you – anyways, then some –

“No, no. Finish that thought first.”.

“Your tongue can be really, really gentle,” you admit, feeling a tiny bit perverse. “Soft, soothing, so when I’m sore it's – it's, um, nice.”

“What’s my tongue doing?” He leans down and speaks directly into your ear again.

“You go down on me.” Your voice starts to climb in pitch from the anticipation.

“Right there on the couch?”

“Mhm.”

“We don’t even make it to the bedroom?”

“I, um – It’s just in my head.”

“But just in your head, we don’t make it off the couch.” His lips barely brush your neck. Was it an accident? 

“No.”

“Why? Cause you’re too desperate?”

“Hng, I –” He boldly nips at the base of your neck.

“This okay?” he murmurs. As Dami speaks, his breath hits the spot of saliva his mouth left on your skin and you’re so keyed up that it evokes a full body shiver.

“Mhm!”

“So are you desperate because you need to cum? Or desperate because you got carried humping me since you were too horny to stop yourself?” Somehow, one of the arms that had been around Dami’s waist is now clutching his shoulders as he licks your neck. You don’t remember it happening.

“What…was I just talking, um –” Thankfully, Dami raises face to look at you which makes thinking easier.

“Anyways, then some.”

“Huh?”

“That's how your next thought started: ‘anyways, then some.’”

“Oh, um…then, I don’t know, maybe I have a bad anxiety day or I talk to my therapist or something reminds me of a painful memory and I don’t want sexual touch.”

“But do you always want physical touch of some kind, like cuddling?”

“Well, I came climbing into bed with you last night, didn’t I?” He smiles wide and looks over the couch for a moment.

“Yeah, that's true…and very good to know. If all days are good physical touch days, you are about to get very sick of me.” Now you’re both smiling like fools and the gravitational pull of chemistry has your noses nearly brushing while Dami slips an arm between the wall and the small of your back. It occurs to you that this is the same move he made in the shower, when encouraging you to grind against his leg.

“I just don’t want you to feel rejected or misled if you touch me in a certain way and I’m not into it, even though I was yesterday. Because it's so momentous since we were broken up for a while.”

“Well, you can just tell me that and I’ll understand.” You nod, but the fact that it isn’t so simple occurs to you. Damiano sees it and raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay, I forgot how fucking inconvenient this mind reading thing is but –” he bursts into joyful laughter, head thrown back. You rest your other arm on Dami’s shoulder as well. In return, he pulls you body to body, resting his other hand on the top of your ass with a watchful expression. It’s exactly the point you were making.

“Obviously, I wasn’t feeling like jumping your bones today. The way you placed your hands over there,” you nod towards the couch, “I really appreciated, because it was exactly the right thing. Like it was so conscientious and considerate and nurturing,” even saying the word made your pussy throb, “that I’m pretty sure it turned me on. So fuck if I know how this works!” Again, Dami is filled with boisterous laughter that's infectious. As you giggle along, you wonder if he was right about just letting your organic connection do its thing. “My brain was like ‘Wow. He’s so nuanced about doing this in exactly the way I need. He’s so respectful about the fact that this is totally non-sexual for me that it's making me wet. Oh, wait.’”

“Okay. So sex is never a –”

“Sexual contact,” you clarify. “I still don’t feel ready for proper love making, I’m sorry.” Dami’s face is the most offended it's been all morning.

“Sorry? What do you mean ‘sorry?’” 

“I know, I know,” you brush him off with an eye roll. 

“For fucks sake, don’t apologize. Why would –”

“Stop, you’re so dramatic!” You jostle Damiano while speaking and he almost delivers a retort before changing course in an effort to make you laugh. Effusive, he gasps and brings a hand to his sternum in scandal.

“Who, me? Dramatic?? Never!” You’re filled with a yearning that originates in your mind, but starts in your cunt. This time you don’t fight it off as it travels upwards to envelope you. “I would –”

“Kiss me,” you interrupt, so giddy that you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet. Caught off guard, Dami stops speaking. “Kiss me, kiss mmm –”

Notes: It's a good one! Thank you for waiting for this update and for reading this fic. I hope the holiday season is at least bearable for y'all. And if its not, me and my Masterlist are here for you!

-XOXO Eden

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[rockbottomwithashovel]

Untitled

Pairing: fem reader x damiano david

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: self harm, vomiting, eating disorder, suicide attempts, alcoholism, alcohol poisoning... sorry if I missed something!

A/N: I don't know what to call this. It's half a personal vent and therapy, and half fanfiction. If you're only interested in the fic, feel free to skip to like half way through. If I know you in real life and you read this; pretend you didn't.

Word Count: 1.4 k

She looked in the mirror. She hated the thing looking back at her. It didn't feel like her. But then again she wasn't capable of hating that thing staring back at her. That would require being able to feel a damn thing. And there were times that the fire got so hot you don't even realise you're burning anymore.

This was one of those times.

So that's how the movie ends, she thought to herself as she wiped the tear out of her eye. She hated herself. Because she liked the movie.

To The Bone.

She understood Eli's character all too well. The over-caring smothering that basically makes you feel like they don't care, because they don't understand. The way people looked at her like she was her sickness, not a person, but a disease. She understood how hard it can be to eat, how disgusting it can be to love, how painful it can be to live.

But what struck her most of all... The thing she would never admit, not to anyone, not a soul... Is the fact that she was jealous.

She was jealous of how people looked at Eli, scared for her. Because scared meant they cared. But maybe they'd be impressed, in some sick way. She was jealous that the guy Eli met in-patient wasn't a semi-cult-leader, like the guy who fell for her when she was in hospital. She was jealous that Eli's bones were so damn thin... She worried that even if she starved herself down to bone she'd still be fat because of her large ribcage. She was jealous of how beautiful Eli was despite being scarily skinny.

What she'd give for that.

It had been 24 since she had last had a drink. It was one of her many unhealthy 'coping mechanisms'. There was the suicide attempts, running away, starving, hitting, cutting, closing off, sexting, opening up to predators, the list goes on. Eventually drinking became the new one. She thought she was recovered. She was wrong. She drank an entire bottle of wine and half a Bailey's bottle in about an hour, without dinner. It turns out mixing drinks was a bad plan. Worse was being in a house alone that wasn't her own (her new job of house sitting).

She thought she was recovered from her eating disorder, and she had other issues. But as she was begging God to die cause she felt sick as the Bailey's curdled with the white wine in her stomach, she threw up. It wasn't enough. For the first time she stuck her fingers down her throat and forced herself to be more sick.

And she felt an odd sense of pride...

Until she tried to stand and wobbled.

The night was a blur. She blacked out in parts, and begged God to stay unconscious. He had no such mercy. Her mum took her home. The next hours were best described as hell. She thought she'd die. She prayed she would. She threw up until there was nothing left, not even bile. She couldn't even sip water. She told herself no more drinking. Never again. If she was going to die, she'd at least have some dignity at the end. There is no dignity for people with vomit in their hair.

Since then she also tried to give up her other 'coping' mechanism: cutting. There were 3 reasons for this, none of them that she actually wanted to get better. They were 1) her mum was watching her like a hawk and kept checking her sleeves. It turns out when you find your child vomiting on the floor while sitting on the toilet with sleeves covered in blood, that will happen—watching said child like a hawk. Especially when only two weeks later she had alcohol poisoning again. 2) she couldn't keep going to her dance classes with red arms. It used to be small scratched no one noticed, but since cutting into tissue, no sleeves wasn't an option. And most importantly 3) she didn't have anything sharp enough. Her usual object was down for the count and the back-ups weren't in high supply.

She thought 'I'll get better'. But she didn't. She needed another coping mechanism. She can't control her dad's cancer, can't control him getting COVID and though she tried she can't control watching him nearly die at the dining room table, choking on nothing, watching the blood in his face...

But there's something she can control. Something she was able to control for years. Food. Simple. She just won't eat for a while. And she'll feel better then too, right? She'll look pretty. She'll be able to be proud of her body. People at her dance school will think she's pretty and be impressed. It doesn't matter that she dropped out of school if she's pretty. People will like you if you're pretty. And I'm just not that pretty, she thought.

All this is to say that watching To The Bone was a harrowing experience for her. She decided she would get worse. It wasn't really a conscious decision. She told herself “I'll get worse” like she chose it, but that was just her trying to have control over the fact that things are getting worse again and she can't stop it. She doesn't know if she wants to.

It was a month after watching the movie, and her best friends had started to notice that something was up.

“Hey, Y/N, you good? You barely touched your churros.” Vic mentioned.

“And you love churros,” Thomas said with a knowing smirk.

“What's wrong, amore mio?” Damiano asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Y/N dismissed, with a shake of her head and a nonchalant shrug. “I just feel a little sick today and don't want to ruin churros permanently if I don't keep 'em down.” she joked.

Ethan, the only one who knew that Y/N once had an eating disorder, didn't laugh. He raised a concerned eyebrow. Y/N pretended not to notice.

Her stomach growled. It was a painful victory, and like a general that lost soldiers but won the war, Y/N smiled.

Then she heard the knock on the door.

She got up to answer it but got a little dizzy. She stood still and told herself she's fine, and walked towards the door. She opened it to reveal her boyfriend, Damiano, standing there with a box of donuts and a small bouquet of flowers.

“I thought you could use some cheering up, you've seemed down lately,” he said, concern deep in his eyes.

“Oh, no it's OK, I'm fine,” Y/N tried to lie, but the shock and stress was heavy in her voice.

“My love, tell me, what's wrong? Have I done something?”

Y/N couldn't take it anymore, and the tears fell like waterfalls down her face. She'd needed someone to care, someone to notice that she wasn't OK. But she couldn't tell them and didn't want them to know, both at the same time. It was a paradoxical hell, torture either way with no signs of relief. It all became too much. Y/N sobbed and stumbled, Damiano dropping the flowers and donuts to catch Y/N in his arm.

He held her to his chest, and she nuzzled into him as she cried. The sound of his heartbeat calmed her own, and soon enough, they were breathing in time, Damiano still brushing Y/N's hair with his hand and he soothed her.

“Now, what's wrong amore mio?” he asked, cupping her cheeks to look into her eyes.

“It's- I- maybe it's easier if we sit down.”

A few minutes later, the flowers were in a vase, the donuts on the kitchen bench, and the couple sitting on the lounge in the living room.

After a long deep breath, Y/N spoke.

“I'm not coping. I... You know how I gave up alcohol?”

“Si.”

“Well, I also gave up something else. Self harm. An- and since then,” she cleared her throat “my mental health has gotten worse. And my eating disorder is back. I can't seem to be OK.”

“Oh, my love,” Damiano said with remorse and a soft sigh. He dived in fast for a long hug, pulling Y/N as close as possible all the while whispering soothing things to her.

“You are beautiful, my love. No matter what you look like you will always be beautiful, utter perfection. Please, never hurt yourself. You are worth so so much more. Do not waste yourself away because of some bad thoughts, OK? Please, amore, you have to live. You'll be OK. I'm here for you. I swear I will help you.” Eventually he placed a soft kiss on Y/N's head and they cuddled on the couch until they both fell asleep.

Tagging: @smiling-girl (i hope this doesn't scare you too much!!!)

#tw sh #tw ed #tw eating disorder #trigger warning #NOT PRO ANA JUST VENTING #tw alcoholism #tw suicide attmpts #damiano david #damiano x reader #fanfic #angst

[dump-jpg]

Loud kids tour in São Paulo, Brasil (09/09/2022)

#ethan maneskin #victoria maneskin #damiano maneskin #maneskin #damiano david #damiano x reader #loud kids tour

[fanficremembergarden-blog]

Damiano David – ONE SHOT SMUT

categoria: smut; damiano×fem reader; romance

aviso: conteúdo sexual, sexo sem proteção, presença de palavras italianas e de xingamentos

⚠️ Y/N em vez de S/N para facilitar na hora de eu colocar para o inglês.

sinopse: você, uma amiga, ajuda Damiano a se desmontar após tentar se montar como Drag Queen e isso leva a uma sequência de descobertas.

contagem de palavras: 4529

___________________________________________

– Sinceramente Dami...qual ideia genial você vai ter da próxima vez?

Já havia aparecido as primeiras gotículas de suór em minha testa, de tentar puxar aquelas botas de latex do pé de meu querido amigo.

– Parecia fantástico, desde a última vez que me montei assim a banda cresceu muito, eu mudei muito.

– Quem foi a favor disso? Aposto que o Ethan não foi.

Podia sentir o revirar de olhos de Damiano direcionados a mim, e sabia que viria logo em seguida suas manifestações reclamonas.

– Deus no céu e Ethan na Terra, né?

Apenas sorri, e ouvi um riso soprado, que sabia ser de Thomas, que provavelmente estava acompanhado pelos outros.

— O que tem eu?

– Damiano está com ciúmes, isso é tão patét...

A frase não se concluiu, pois a bota finalmente saiu e com o impacto me fez sentir o chão gélido nas costas, com um leve ardor na cabeça, já que a choquei contra o granito.

– Tesouro¹! Está bem?

A exclamação de Damiano me fez levantar o dedo e oferecer em sua direção, mas logo fui erguida por Victoria que verificava se estava tudo em sua devida ordem.

— EU JURO DAMIANO DAVID QUE VOU ARRANCAR A COLA DAS SUAS SOBRANCELHAS COM VONTADE!

Embora o protesto fosse genuino, ele não deixou de ir me abraçar e sussurrar diversos pedidos de desculpas.

— Você está suando, eca. Ethan tem elástico para ela prender o cabelo?

Assim que o moreno  entregou o acessório, notei que estava mais úmido do que deveria, e ao olhar para meus dedos percebi algo que me desagradava, a presença de sangue.

— Dami...

Victoria estava arrancando o espartilho do vocalista, mas meu sussurro rouco chamou atenção de todos e o primeiro a se manifestar foi Thomas, que soltou um pequeno "merda".

– Y/N...

  Não que estivesse tão machucada, na realidade, a sensação de desmaio veio só pela presença do líquido rubro, e se não fosse o loiro ao meu lado, teria caído novamente.

– Tudo bem, tudo bem, Ethan estava certo, ideia burra.

Fui sentada no sofá do camarim enquanto tentava não desmaiar, e muito menos revirar os olhos, mesmo que um "vá a merda" estivesse preso na garganta.

– Damiano, se colocar latex de novo, eu te mato.

– Camisinhas são feitas de latex, micetta².

– Idai Damiano? Não sou eu que vou tirar ela do teu pau.

Isso rendeu risada de todos eles, mesmo que o agora quase inteiramente desmontado estivesse acariando a pele de meu rosto e extremamente preocupado.

– Se você colocar, eu ja fico feliz.

Preferi acreditar que havia uma hemorragia interna e não estava mais ouvindo corretamente, mas o engasgo que tive pela surpresa fez Victoria rir.

– Interessante, vocês nunca...?

– Vic, a menina ta morrendo aqui e você falando de sexo.

– Ah, vai dizer que não pensaram o mesmo?

Poderia passar um tempo refletindo como responder os diversos motivos pelo qual não havia ido parar na cama do meu melhor amigo, mas naquele momento, nem  importava se estava sangrando, ou quase desmaiando, apenas levantei e sai do camarim, com a mão na nuca obviamente, pois ardia e tinha medo de sair sujando tudo com sangue. A desculpa seria a caçada por um curativo.

(...)

Quando retornei ao camarim, Damiano já parecia com o Damiano, e tudo estava mais quieto, e tive uma breve sensação de que talvez aquilo fosse minha culpa, talvez tivesse causado um constrangimento.

– O produtor de vocês está enlouquecendo, acho que alguém perdeu a harmonia da nova música de vocês.

– A não perderam não, eu passei a noite inteira revisando isso!

Victoria saiu pisando duro e todos voltaram a rir, logo entendi que nada havia sumido, Thomas estava com um quase extinto pen drive entre os dedos.

– Quando ela descobrir, você é um homem morto Raggi.

– É só você não contar, Y/N.

Dei de ombros ao maior dos rapazes e devolvi o elástico de cabelo para Ethan, para em seguida me reconfortar ao lado do vocal da banda e depositar a cabeça em seu ombro.

– Desculpe se Victoria...te constrangeu.

Respiro fundo, constatando que realmente havia ficado um clima desagradável após a saída da sala.

– É a Vic, se ela não tivesse falado não seria ela, e depois...ela está certa, não é? Ethan e Thomas provavelmente pensaram a mesma coisa.

Encarei diretamente os dois rapazes e notei pelo olhar cúmplice deles que era verdade.

– Ah, sei lá...vocês estão sempre juntos, e que Damiano andaria nú em público não é novidade, então não fazer isso perto de você era...curioso.

– O que Ethan quer dizer, é que todos achavamos que a nudez podia causar faíscas, e você é mais tímida, poderia não gostar de expor algo tão íntimo para nós.

Deixei um pequeno beicinho nos lábios se criar após um suspiro profundo, era sim uma situação a se analisar, passou desapercebido que Dami realmente evitava ficar desnudo quando estava perto, mesmo com todos os anos de uma amizade tão próxima.

– Ele não fica porque não quer, não sou mais criança, sei o que é um pênis.

O maldito comentário rendeu risos nasais dos três e algo mais inesperado, o mais velho simplesmente começou retirar a calça de moletom que vestia, e constatei que era a única maldita peça de roupa que ele usava, o que causou um desvio atenção para o teto repentino da minha parte.

– O teto é tão...tetoso...branco...

Agora o ambiente era irrompido por gargalhadas, e tudo que podia fazer era sacudir a cabeça em negação e em uma tentativa de não render a curiosidade.

– Achei que não era mais criança.

– Adultos ficam olhando o pau dos amigos? Sinceramente garotos, vocês são bizarros.

Havia pelo menos mais uns cinco ou seis comentários a fazer sobre isso, até sentir a presença feminina marcante de Vic retornar, nesse instante quase criei uma esperança de que o assunto fosse alterado.

– Mas que porra é essa?

– Estou fortalecendo os laços de amizade com ela.

Senti os braços tatuados me rodearam e fiz uma caretinha, ainda sem desprender a atenção do teto, e a risada rouca da garota me atingiu. Às vezes eu duvidava da minha sexualidade quando a baixista estava por perto.

– Deveria tomar banho com ela, a beijar, a levar para almoçar com seus pais, não isso.

Aquilo me fez rir, pois tinhamos tantas opções, mas era típico de Damiano escolher a mais aleatória possível.

– Ethan, Thomas, Victoria...não tentem ficar íntimos de mim antes de me comprarem ao menos um livro.

– Nhá, eu tenho meus métodos.

Antes de poder questionar, dedos macios tocaram meu rosto, fazendo finalmente com que o teto não fosse tão interessante, não quando tive o vislumbre da loira tão perto que podia sentir o cheiro do seu gloss.

– Se for a beijar, é melhor fazer isso agora, ela tem o hábito de correr.

Ergui uma sobrancelha em dúvida, não me recordo de ter contado o episódio em que fugi de um beijo em um pub a ele, e foi esse time de reflexão que abriu espaço para o início de um beijo com o motivo da minha recém entrada na comunidade LGBT.

  Não contei o tempo, ele nem fazia mais sentido quando se tinha lábios tão macios e grudentos repletos de um sabor artificial de cereja com os meus, embora a falta de ar denuncie o quanto ficamos presas naquele beijo.

– Te devo um livro agora.

   Apenas pisquei diversas vezes até compreender o que ela disse e Damiano riu soprado no meu ouvido, sussurrando um " non scappi da lei, vero?  Penso che sia una bambola ingiusta"³

Em um lapso memórias foram voltando, não era um desconhecido no pub, estava apenas alcoolizada demais para reconher Damiano, ou seu perfume tão característico. A realidade tomou conta do meu corpo, que automaticamente esquentou e me fez virar em sua direção para o encarar firmemente.

– Não achei que nenhum de vocês perderiam seu precioso tempo beijando a garota careta que fica mandando não fazerem as coisas.

Pude ver a expressão levemente dolorosa nele, talvez um pouco arrependido de sempre ficar falando que corto a vibe deles quando simplesmente estou tentando os manter vivos.

– Vamos para casa.

    O fitei completamente confusa. Assim? Instantaneamente era hora de ir para casa? Todos pareceram entender o que ele queria dizer, ou talvez eu fosse a única surpresa. Fiquei apenas observando a calça de moletom preta retornar, e uma camiseta branca aparecer.

– Já vamos? Mas...a harmonia da Victoria nem apareceu.

– Eu vou matar quem deletou, e não estou brincando.

O novo diálogo foi simplesmente ignorado, ele apenas me olhou e seu silêncio indicava que sim, era hora, ou eu iria de carona com outra pessoa.

– Thomas pode resolver isso, e eu preciso passar em um lugar.

Apenas concordei, carona era carona, e depois, nunca havia pego carona com os outros membros, o que parecia estranho agora, julgando o tempo que a banda existe e o fato de que sou amiga do Damiano desde a segunda infância.

Caminhei silenciosamente ao lado dele, vez ou outra cogitando apenas soltar um pedido de desculpas, mesmo sem entender ao certo pelo que me desculpava, afinal, eles realmente me chamavam de careta, não era para ele ter ficado tão na defensiva.

Talvez tivesse passado tempo demais perdida em meus pensamentos, que foram aquietados com os braços conhecidos rodeando minha cintura enquanto andavamos.

– Você ser careta, não é um defeito, e nem te torna chata, ou feia, muito menos alguém que não é atraente, porque você é, e muito.

  Apenas ergui as sobrancelhas em surpresa e o olhei de soslaio antes de soltar um grunhido tímido em agradecimento.

  Achar o carro não foi difícil, agora, entrar nele, com peruca, bota, maleta de maquiagem e tudo o que se podia imaginar é que foi o problema.

– Está cogitando virar uma Drag Queen em tempo integral? Ou está furtando as maquiadoras e estilista?

  Sua risada por alguma razão apasigou tudo possível dentro de mim, e nem queria mais uma resposta, nem precisava mais de tanto espaço assim, havia ficado repentinamente de bom humor.

– Aonde você tem que passar?

– Na sua casa.

O encarei confusa, ele teria que passar na minha casa de qualquer jeito, então qual razão fez parecer a necessidade de ter algum outro compromisso?

– Mas isso é óbvio.

– Então perguntou por qual razão?

– Doce igual limão em Damiano.

  Revirei os olhos e pude ver pelo retrovisor ele sorrir de canto, continuando seu caminho, que não indicava a rota da minha casa.

– Farmácia, preciso comprar latex para vestir um certo lugar. Não se preocupe.

Estacionamos e o observei sair calmamente, como se não tivesse falado algo que me permitiu criar milhares de perguntas e cenários, uma vez que não sabia da existência de uma nova ficante casual.

– Você não vai ter que tirar, só por.

Com o comentário deixado no ar, ao mesmo tempo que congelei, meu corpo ferveu, era uma combinação confusa, mãos geladas e todo o resto pegando fogo. Damiano tinha o hábito de soltar flertes, era comum na nossa amizade, com o tempo passei a retribuir, nunca foram nada além de brincadeiras e insinuações bobas, mas agora era diferente, hoje era diferente. Primeiro, ele me chamou de tesouro o que não passou despercebido por mim, segundo, sua nudez repentina, terceiro, a revelação da tentativa de um beijo a algumas semanas.

Quando ele voltou, a porta do carro fechando despertou-me dos devaneios e percebi que de fato, o infeliz havia parado para comprar camisinhas. Ou ele estava de caso com alguém e não me contou, ou estava me torturando.

– Porque não...apenas me beijou? Tipo, oi Y/N quero te beijar posso? Esperou irmos para um bar, estarmos alcoolizados e em um lugar tão escuro que nem consegui te reconhecer e...

– Eu realmente adoraria explicar isso, mas quero chegar na sua casa primeiro.

– Porque não me falou que era você?

– Isso iria fazer você ficar e retribuir o beijo?

– Sim?

  O carro parou bem abruptamente e assustada, me virei na direção do homem tentando entender o que caralhos tinha acontecido.

– Sim? Todo esse tempo a resposta para se eu posso te beijar era sim? Você está brincando!

– Ah...não?

– Y/N, não brinca não. É claro como o dia em uma tarde de verão que você quer estar com o Ethan, embora ele discorde.

– Como sempre...ele parece pensar mais do que o resto de vocês...

Desviei o olhar para minha janela, como se isso fosse poder evitar a situação, como se isso pudesse apagar o fato de assumir que o beijaria, que beijaria meu melhor amigo desde a infância e que por Deus, eu faria com muito gosto. Damiano havia me ensinado tudo sobre como ser bem tratada, como um homem deveria tratar uma mulher, como uma pessoa de bom coração deveria tratar outra, em algum momento se tornou quase impossível não imaginar diversas situações nas quais ele era o meu homem.

– Então é isso? Estou a anos em uma guerra interna entre te jogar contra a porra da parede daquele estúdio ou te entregar de mãos beijadas ao Ethan, e ele estava o tempo inteiro certo em me dizer que você iria preferir a primeira opção?

– Talvez...

Do mesmo jeito que o carro parou, ele voltou ao seu ritmo, um tanto acelerado, o que causou uma preocupação e frio na barriga.

– Qual o motivo da pressa?

  Segurei o cinto melhor no meu corpo e encarei o velocímetro. Nem achei que aquele carrinho pudesse correr tanto.

– Te foder naquela merda daquele sofá gigante do seu apartamento.

– O que?!

– Vou ter que desenhar? Eu estou agindo igual um idiota fracassado que não compreende o quanto é gostoso, porque eu sou um grande gostoso, inseguro como um feio, por causa da minha melhor amiga tímida que engasga se falam a palavra buceta perto dela. Então, sabendo que sou um enorme e fabuloso homem, e que você não vai fugir, eu vou te foder, olhando no fundo dos seus olhos enquanto faço isso.

   Precisei abaixar o vidro do carro para respirar melhor, nunca achei que estaria nessa situação, e o pior? Que eu nem iria negar ela...ok, quem em boa sanidade olharia para esse homem narcisista ao lado e diria não?

– Ok.

Sua gargalhada descontraiu o momento, mas ele ainda parecia descrente, pois sacudia a cabeça uma vez ou outra em negação.

– Ok?

– Ok. Você já podia ter feito isso a muito tempo.

Arrependimento pode não matar, mas causa uma vontade de se jogar de um carro em movimento sem igual.

Sua mão foi parar na minha coxa e o olhar estava sério, muito sério e focado no caminho, parecia estar pensando, talvez em o quanto iria me torturar, já que seu aperto firme causou um sobressalto.

– Eu queria ser gentil sabia? Romântico. Chegar na sua casa e conversar sobre o quanto você é linda e encantadora, te deitar e beijar todo o seu corpo. Agora? Eu só consigo pensar no quanto eu queria uma merda de um carro sport, uma ferrari e como seu vizinho vai nos odiar ou até mesmo chamar a polícia por causa dos seus gritos.

  A fachada do prédio já aparecia, e com ela, um desejo adormecido de muito tempo, poderia responder que eu também desejava que o gosto automobilístico dele fosse melhor, ou que o prédio inteiro poderia chamar a polícia, mas decidi apenas esperar que estacionace na garagem compartilhada para retirar o cinto e me jogar em seu colo já colando nossos lábios.      A surpresa era visível, Damiano levou alguns segundos para reagir, no entanto, quando reagiu, seus dedos se afundaram na carne da minha cintura e começaram a puxar meu corpo para mais próximo ao seu, como se fosse possível nos fundirmos. A briga territorialista de línguas e toda a intensidade guardada por tantos anos sendo jogadas para fora.

– Você é bem...diferente do que demonstra dolcezza⁴.

  Queria responder, mas fui totalmente controlada pelo homem, sua boca me dominava, e agora percebia que sua mão direita havia prendido meus pulsos, dominando a situação, me impedindo de tocá-lo, resultando em um manifesto silencioso da minha pélvis, que começou se movimentar sobre ele.

– Sai.

  Sua ordem foi obedecida imediatamente, mesmo que não fosse do meu agrado isso.

– Se fosse para te foder no carro eu tinha feito isso desde o início.

Saimos do carro, e o que me irritou foi sua facilidade de apenas fingir que não estavamos nos amassando violentamente, entrando no elevador cumprimentando os meus vizinhos.

– Bom dia Senhora Terras, quer ajuda com as compras? 

  Ele nem esperou a resposta da idosa, apenas apanhou as sacolas e puxou um assunto qualquer, enquanto eu estava quase subindo nas paredes, parecendo uma cachorrinha no cio, agarrada em seu braço e calmamente para não chamar atenção, esfregando meu nariz na região, apanhando seu cheiro.

– Y/N não está muito bem hoje, sabe? Está mais manhosa e grudenta, mas não ligo, é fofo.

Escutei a conversa se iniciar atentamente, a coragem de dar pelo menos um oi sumiu no instante que ouvi uma risada rouca, antiga, de minha vizinha obviamente.

– Ah, vocês são jovens. É bom vê-los assim, quase nunca demonstram que são um casal, é fofinho ver ela tão gentil.

Ele apenas sorriu e me olhou brevemente, talvez fosse a visão mais linda em toda minha vida.

– Realmente, não costumamos agir como o casal que temos potencial de ser.

  O fato dele não desmentir a suposição me pegou desprevinida, verdadeiramente esperava que ele fosse negar, e como não ocorreu, afastei um pouco meu corpo do dele e fiquei o olhando.

– Vamos?

Estavamos no nosso andar, nem pude perceber quando a doce Sra.Terras saiu com suas sacolas.

– Droga, mil vezes droga Damiano!

Agora era o homem confuso, no entanto, não quis explicar, apenas avancei nele, não do mesmo modo de antes, agora envolvia carinho, paixão e o sentimento que mais tentei esconder e agora transbordava, amor.

– O...ok, esse beijo foi diferente.

Ignorei sua avaliação, abri a porta da minha residência e corri diretamente para cozinha, me livrando da jaqueta jeans preta pelo percurso, ficando com minha regata branca.

Enchi um copo generoso de água, e enquanto tomava joguei longe os all stars que calçava. Precisava de conforto, precisava me acalmar e colocar todos os pingos nos "is".

Mãos quentes tatearam minha cintura, e pude sentir a respiração pesada do homem no meu pescoço, causando arrepios.

– Estava escondendo sentimentos de mim?

  Suas mãos agora adentraram por dentro da peça branca e fina, e para um leve espanto, não se movimentaram, se mantiveram paradas, em um abraço forte.

– Esteve quanto tempo me desejando tanto quanto eu a desejava? - os lábios decididos começaram seu caminho pela pele do meu pescoço. - Quantas noites desejou que eu fosse seu homem, tanto quanto eu desejava que fosse minha mulher?

Cada pergunta vinha seguida de uma sequência de beijos, que faziam minha cabeça pender para trás e ficar apoiada em seu ombro.

– A minha mente sussurra a muito tempo, me dizendo que apenas você poderia me fazer ser feliz, que apenas você seria minha companheira, minha esposa, meu ar. Me diz, por favor, se a sua também lhe diz isso.

   Fui virada para poder o olhar, queria conseguir falar, tranquiliza-lo, pois seu rosto parecia tão sofrido, porém não conseguia, não existia palavras, não havia como absorver tudo e transmitir de imediato. Toquei seu rosto e o encarei, sem medo, tentando demonstrar tudo que eu constantemente policiava.

— Eu não sei o que dizer...você é melhor com palavras, por isso compõe coisas lindas...mas sim, eu acho que sofro de tudo isso a um tempo, talvez mais do que você...

   Esperei um sorriso, um suspiro de alívio, ou até um arrependimento, ganhei dele um choque entre corpos, seus lábios grudados aos meus, enquanto forçava meu corpo para cima, me segurando em seu colo, forçando minhas pernas ao redor da sua cintura.

   O beijo gritava Damiano, intenso, selvagem, mas doce, carinhoso. Era impossível não se perder no gosto de nicotina e resquícios do batom que esteve mais cedo no local.

  Nos separamos, tempo o suficiente para ver que estávamos na sala, e lembrando da sua vontade, transformei o sofá em uma "cama" e quando me voltei em sua direção, já fui contemplada com o tronco repleto de tatuagens. Não neguei, pela primeira vez em minha vida inteira, a tentação em passar a mão pelos desenhos, fiz calmamente, intercalando os toques com beijos timidos.

— La mia principessa⁵, me trata como uma divindade, quanta blasfêmia.

Gentilmente senti o estofado em minhas costas, e não lutei pelo controle, deixei que fizesse o que bem entendesse, logo estava apenas com minha calça que incomodava muito mais do que deveria.

   Agarrei em sua nuca, puxando para cima de mim, entrelaçando minhas pernas em seu corpo, impossibilitando que ele ousasse se afastar. A briga de línguas retornava, desespero pela pele um do outro, a sede pelo contato, sua pele quente e com o cheiro único, seu cheiro.

   Não tardei a sentir meus seios serem espremidos em suas mãos, o que fez um grunhido escapar dos meus lábios, arrancando um sorriso cafajeste de Damiano.

  Cogitei me manifestar, o xingar, mas sua boca, sua língua, rodeando meu mamilo apenas conseguiu arrancar mais um grunhido, e um jogar de cabeça para trás.

  Foi preciso muito força de vontade para o mover para o lado e ficar sentada sobre ele, pensei que fosse haver uma briga por dominância, e ganhei um olhar de contemplação com pupilas dilatadas, me motivando mexer o quadril e ser presenteada com um sorriso gatuno.

— Mova-se micatta.

  Meu corpo reagia muito melhor ao comando dele do que aos meus próprios, fiz com questão movimentos circulares em seu colo, apenas para contemplar suas expressões, até receber o maior choque, sua expressão refletia o que meu corpo gritava, eu precisava, queria mais do que aquele contato razo de tecidos se friccionando.

  Se em algum momento achei que tinha controle, foi engano, o olhar prepador, o líquido em minhas pernas, tudo me levou a sair de cima de seu corpo, e livrar-me por conta própria a calça.

— Muito apressada...

  Lancei um olhar rude para ele, Damiano gargalhou e então ficou de joelhos no sofá me puxando para ele, que acariava tão docemente meu rosto, enquanto violentamente prensava seus lábios ao meu, enquanto sorrateiramente deslizava sua destra para dentro da minha última peça última.

   Afastei brevemente meu corpo em uma contração pelo contato com seus dedos em meu clitores, e isso rendeu um puxão mais forte para voltar a antiga posição.

   A doce tortura de seus dígitos em mim, finalmente podendo perceber o caos que ele me causava, o quão molhada ficava com tão pouco, o quanto eu podia gemer apenas com um contato tão forte e lento.

— Você não tem idéia do quanto eu me sinto ao perceber que está se derramando para mim.

   Novamente estava deitada com ele sobre mim, mas seus beijos do meu abdômen para baixo já indicava aonde ele chegaria.

   Não tardou a nudez se fazer totalmente presente em mim, e Damiano me fazer perceber isso, se afastando poucos centímetros de mim.

— Mia bella, mia preziosa, come posso essere così fortunata?⁶

    A timidez começou adornar minhas bochechas, e isso causou uma pressa no rapaz, por me conhecer bem o suficiente para saber que ficaria inimida e me recolheria.

     Sentir seus fios em crescimento por dentro da minha coxa foi a preparação silenciosa para o contato de sua língua que finalmente conquistou um gemido desinibido, acompanhado por unhas agarrando o que podia do tecido do sofá.

— Tão molhada, isso faz muito pelo meu ego sabia?

    Não pretendia responder, também não consegui, fui silenciada por um dedo em minhas curvas, e mais uma vez o meu consolo foi agarrar o sofá, que provavelmente teria marcas em seu tecido.

— Quero que seja sincera comigo agora, me olhe.

    Foi preciso um grande esforço para sair do transe, e ainda mais para permanecer, uma vez que olha-lo deixava tudo ainda mais quente.

— Você está pingando, e eu estou louco, acha que consegue aguentar ou precisa de mais preparação?

— Porra Damiano! Só me fode logo!

  Sua risada rouca parecia ainda mais atraente para o momento, mesmo que provavelmente se não estivesse louca de tesão, eu iria o xingar.

— Me perdoe por ter negado sexo a tanto tempo, olha como está desesperada.

   Queria muito ter o repreendido, mas um grito manhoso escapou ao senti-lo me preencher, esticando-me a sua boa vontade para o abrigar. O esforço para o encarar compensou cada segundo, sua feição sombria em desejo, sufocando pelo autocontrole de apenas não me machucar como desejava.

— Sorte sua que prometi a mim mesmo que nossa primeira vez seria gentil.

   Agora eu quem ri levemente, extasiada enquanto o sentia completamente em mim, respirando com dificuldade por toda a antecipação do que viria.

— Seja gentil, mas comece logo isso!

   Ouvir um grunhido vindo dele foi o suficiente para entender que agora não teria mais volta. Meus pulsos foram presos em minha cabeça, nossos corpos se chocavam com a velocidade e força, seus lábios se distraiam em uma tortura ao massacrarem meus mamilos, e tudo que podia fazer era chamar por seu nome desesperadamente.

    Não sei se era o tempo sem transar, ou a extrema necessidade que tinha dele, mas já sentia meu orgasmo vindo, apertando em torno dele, arrancando gemidos do vocalista, o calor tomando conta do meu corpo.

— Dami...

— Vem, venha para mim, agora!

  O obedeci prontamente, sentindo a euforia tomar conta de cada canto de minha alma, me fazendo desabar completamente no sofá, com energia suficiente apenas para o contemplar saindo de mim e se liberando em meu abdômen.

— Não se mova.

   Nem se quisesse poderia, não havia sido nada bruto que deixasse minhas pernas desfucionais, no entanto não pretendia sair da posição que estava, talvez fosse o peso da realização me prendendo.

  Presa em pensamentos, dei um pulo leve ao sentir algo molhado em mim, Damiano estava me limpando.

— Você não tem algo para me dizer?

— Você...fode bem?

   O italiano se jogou ao meu lado, gargalhando enquanto me abraçava possessivamente.

— Victoria disse, que durante as gravações de If I Can Dream, você sussurrou algo, e eu não quis acreditar nela...mas as coisas mudaram, agora acredito e quero ouvir.

   Ver Damiano em uma jaqueta de couro afetou imediatamente meus circuitos, e no momento praguejei baixo um "droga, como eu te amo", achei que ninguém teria percebido meu ato falho, grande engano.

— Eu te amo. — Eu sei.

   Precisei decidir se iria o bater ou rir, por ele ceder ao lado nerd dele e usar uma referência de Star Wars.

VOCABULÁRIO

1. Querida 2. Gatinha 3. Não fugiu dela né? Você é uma garotinha injusta. 4. Doçura/Doce/Docinho 5. Minha princesa 6. Minha linda, minha jóia, como posso ter tanta sorte?

》 Desculpem se não ficou bom ou se eu apenas encerrei rapidamente, confesso que após tanto tempo sem prática dá um pouquinho de vergonha...

#damiano david #damiano x reader #damiano maneskin #maneskin #måneskin #maneskin smut #victoria de angelis #vic maneskin #ethan maneskin #thomas maneskin #smut #måneskin smut

[cebothelover]

....

#maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #damiano imagine #damiano x reader #vic de angelis #vic #thomas raggi #victoria de angelis #eurovision #eurovision song contest #esc #esc 22 #eurovision 2022 #eurovision song contest 2022 #esc 2021 #italy #italian #rome #Måneskin #supermodel #måneskin #zitte e buoni #mammamia

[baddestbittyontheblock]

måneskin fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

måneskin x reader: blurbs+headcannons+fics

୨୧ 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

୨୧ 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

୨୧ a headcanon with må with you being a successful model

-they're wearing earbuds, blasting music into their ears when they remember the they left their phone charger in the bathroom. they don't know you're showering and can't hear you over the music...

୨୧ headcanons with må x fashiondesigner!reader

୨୧ a valentine’s surprise | SMUT, orgy, oral sex, anal play, double penetration, food play, spit play, alcohol  

-You’ve been feeling a little left out in your relationship so your four partners show their love to you with a surprise for Valentine’s Day. 

୨୧ Gettin’ Frisky With The Måneskin Members  | explicit content, gender neutral reader, switch!damiano, hard domme!victoria, vanilla!thomas, sub!ethan, freaky stuff, toys and s/m, oral (both ways), degradation, spit, pain play, brat taming, bondage, sinning cuz rock’n’roll never dies

୨୧ our favourite band with an S/O with bad menstrual periods

| talk abt periods, so dyphoria warning (we'll get back on the totally GN shit tmrw, just filling requests rn), lil bit of swearing and NSFW on Ethan

୨୧ how the members of Måneskin confess their feelings for you måneskin x gn!reader

victoria de angelis

·。🍓 my sweet valentine vic de angelis x fem! reader | Fluff

-Victoria's first Valentine's day celebrating with you is a bit chaotic but turns out better than expected.

·。🍓 date night vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, fingering, oral (female receiving) and bdsm dynamics

-you and vic go on a date and it ends with fun at the hotel

·。🍓 hush, hush, cucciola. vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you’re were asked to come over and help to calm Vic down after another disagreement during creating new song, and you find just the way to make her happy and peaceful again

·。🍓 pillow talk vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-your night trip to the kitchen gets interrupted by a strange noise, the results of your investigation are more pleasant then you could expect.

·。🍓 long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

·。🍓 cold breeze, hot cheeks vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff 

-a rather cold October makes your blood boil as you and Vic attend Ethan's birthday party

·。🍓 i think I wanna hold you, but I'm not sure i'm allowed

vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst with tiny hint of smut

·。🍓 I'll show the  lovin' that you'll never get from a man. vic de angelis x fem! reader | angst, fluff, smut

-your friends finally meet your boyfriend, and even though nothing goes according to the plan, your night ends up being better than you could hope for, thanks to Vic

·。🍓 sweat and good grips vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 the one with victoria’s boobs. victoria x gn!reader | fluff

-Victoria needs help taping her boobs for an upcoming performance. You get more than you bargained for.

·。🍓 the one where victoria wants to watch victoria x fem!reader x ethan | smut

·。🍓 “OPEN YOUR MOUTH.” victoria x gn!reader | soft smut

-along the lines of The one where victoria is patient.

·。🍓 “YEAH, WELL, IF YOU WEREN’T SO DRUNK MAYBE I WOULD.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “I KNOW YOU CAN BE LOUDER THAN THAT.” vic de angelis x fem! reader

·。🍓 “GIVE ME ATTENTION.” vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

·。🍓 say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams vic de angelis xfem!reader | fluff, smut

-You're an up-and-coming actress, and Vic's best friend since high school. You have been friends and in love with each other for as long as you can remember. So when you have the chance to be together, it's magical.

·。🍓 baby said vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut

-you've been on a few dates with Victoria and you think things are going really well. You just wish you had known where the night was going beforehand- maybe you would have picked a table with longer tablecloths.

·。🍓 latenight devil vic de angelis x fem! reader

-victoria covers for you after you sneak backstage ahead of a Måneskin gig & invites you into her dressing room for an unusual encounter

·。🍓 forgive me father vic de angelis x fem! reader | smut, basically porn

·。🍓 the ocean's daughter swearing, alcohol consumption, drowning as a metaphor, smut

-while on holiday in italy, an encounter derails your life enough to make you pack up on a whim and move to the very city in which you first saw her — the ocean's daughter.

·。🍓 vic blurb

-doing domestic stuff with Victoria

·。🍓 a threesome with victoria and damiano! damiano x fem!reader x vic | smut

-reader is victoria’s partner and starts to develop a certain ‘obsession’ for dami, until vic decides to fix it.

·。🍓 vic de angelis fic victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-y/n is the other female member of the band, who has had feelings for vic for a while now, but was too nervous to say anything. one night after a concert in new york changes that after the bassist overhears a conversation between damiano and y/n.

·。🍓 thorns victoria de angelis x fem!reader | Mentions of smoking. Mentions of panic. Swearing.

-victoria meets her ex-girlfriend (Ava). The unplanned “date” upsets her and she decides to drink and smoke to cope. When she wakes up in the morning her best friend Y/N (who she also happens to have a crush on) is there to try and reason with her. 

·。🍓 lucid victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-It started with a spilled drink and ended with a clumsy kiss on the dance floor. A night out with friends takes an unexpected turn when you bump into the one person that's been on your mind for the better part of a year- the same stranger who stole both your chapstick and your heart.

·。🍓 nightmares victoria de angelis x fem!reader | A description of a nightmare. Other than that all is fluff and comfort.

-When Y/N has a terrifying nightmare and wakes up screaming, Victoria is there to comfort her.

·。🍓 kisses and cake vic de angelis x reader | very fluffy, a little spicy

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-being in a punk band and having vic feature in a show (you know like thomas recently did with starcrawler) and her doing her scissoring thing on top of me and then when she extends and after extending a hand to help me up and pulling me into a very gay gay gay kiss smearing her lipstick on my lipstick and leaving a big lipstick stain on my cheek as well

·。🍓 birthday wish victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-little birthday blurb

·。🍓 church crush vic de angelis x reader | kinky as kink abba; innocent/corruption kink, and idk, sacrilege?

-good girl!reader having a massive obsession on a not-so-good girl from her church.

·。🍓 proficiency test victoria de angelis x gn!reader | a bit of swearing + one (1) explicit and one (1) implicit mention of sex + i'm very much projecting (who doesn't) + shitty german

-vic decides to help you study. chaos ensues.

·。🍓 coming home victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-vic has had a long day but coming home to you lifts the uneasiness from her shoulders and she vocalizes just how lucky she feels that you are in her life.

·。🍓 because of you idiot! victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angst(I guess), romantic fluff

-Victoria suddenly comes distance, and you try to find out why.

·。🍓 fluffy blurb vic de angelis x reader

-(it's something about getting matching tattoos with vic)

·。🍓 fuffly/smut with victoria victoria de angelis x fem!reader

-fluffy morning/half smut with victoria. nipples playing.

·。🍓 your camera roll while dating vic vic de angelis x reader | fluff, smut

·。🍓 knowing your worth vic x fem/gn! reader | hurt, comfort

-Vic is there for you after a conflict with your parents.

·。🍓 the first happiest birthday vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 crawling back to you vic de angelis x reader

-Vic once again finds her way back to you.

·。🍓 one of a kind vic de angelis x reader | fluff, mentions of sex

-Vic finds out just how rich the feeling of love can be.

·。🍓 “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretend that it’s you!” vic de angelis x reader | fluff, angst

·。🍓 pt 2 hospital vic fic. vic de angelis x reader

·。🍓 “everything before the word ‘but’ is horseshit.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 the one where victoria is patient. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut

-you've been with Victoria for half a year. Maybe it's about time you pushed your fears away.

·。🍓 “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe I would.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Give me attention.” vic de angelis x reader | smut

·。🍓 “We’re in public, you know.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.” vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 "Take off your clothes, but leave the heels on." vic de angelis x reader | fluff

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party

·。🍓 vic blurb vic de angelis x reader

-Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto: Part 1. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics, mention of someone called ‘A’ - Damiano’s girlfriend

-unbeknownst to you both, paparazzi photograph you and Victoria while on your way back from a date night. When you find out in the morning, the two of you have very different ideas of how to handle the situation.

·。🍓 l'amore è più forte di ogni segreto - Part 2. victoria de angelis x fem!reader | angst, swearing, bad google translate translations, overuse of italics.

·。🍓 k is for kisses vic de angelis x reader

-You and your girlfriend, Victoria, both like to tease each other. Kisses ensue.

·。🍓 peculiar and beautiful victoria de angelis x gn!reader | angsty but also fluffy

-reader finds themself in a emotional rut. A few comments online, the constant youtube recommendations on how to be “perfect” have been making them feel some type of way, hiding away from the one person that can help them; Victoria

·。🍓 amalfi nights victoria de angelis x fem!reader | smut, pretty vanilla, softdom!vic, servicetop!vic, praise, kind of fluffy smut

-reader and victoria are for vacation in Amalfi. After a candle-lit dinner at the restaurant, after a long day of swimming and sunbathing, victoria just wants to show you her love.

·。🍓 afterglow victoria de angelis x gn!reader | mentions of sex

-reader meets victoria while traveling with friends. The two create a lovely summer fling and reader can not help but bask in the afterglow of victorias influence hoping to encounter her again.

·。🍓 homesick vic de angelis x reader | tw sickness, vomitting

-vic and the reader being on a long vacation together. One night the reader wakes up homesick and ends up being sick in the toilet, trying to be as quiet as they can not to worry vic too much. To no use, of course, as vic wakes up alarmed by the sounds of someone being ill in the bathroom and then goes to comfort the sick, guilty, crying reader?

·。🍓 vic fic vic de angelis x reader

-An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

damiano david

✧*: i want to dance on your body damiano david x fem!reader | smut 

-you and your bestie hit up a party when you start grooving with Damiano, and the dance floor chemistry carries over to his hotel room. That's where the magic unfolds, and you both go to cloud as he compares you to an angel.

✧*: i'm gonna fly straight to you damiano david x fem!reader | fluff

-you and Damiano are cuddled up in bed, brainstorming epic future adventures together.

✧*: i wanna paint your face like you're my Mona Lisa. damiano david x fem!reader | smut

-damiano takes you to see his new yacht

✧*: long stormy night damiano x fem!reader x vic | SMUT!!!, degradation, corruption kink, wax play, knife play, blood play, spanking, bit of fear play, unprotected sex, it’s just wild ok, i wanted to treat y/n

-It’s a last day of your small, a bit disappointing  gateway trip. The big storm is approaching, yet your evening takes an interesting turn when you bump into two hot Italians in the hotel bar

✧*: overthinking damiano david x fem!reader | swearing, alcohol, smoking, smut related things in general

-Your relationship with Damiano is going through a crisis and some jealousy. All becomes clear after a filed party and a steamy night. There is a bit sad, angsty beginning, smut in the middle and a bit of fluff in the end. So, we have the whole package.

✧*: welcome home damiano david x fem!reader | surprisingly fluffy but also smut

-after a long week all you need is a loving touch of your currently absent boyfriend. Luckily in the morning there is a very handsome surprise waiting for you, and this allows you to start your day in best way you could possibly imagine

✧*: 300,000 hearts damiano david x fem!girlfriend!reader

-where damiano sings a song about you he wrote in highschool, to a full arena

ethan torchio

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ blush ethan torchio x reader | pure fluff

-a blurb of Ethan meeting his new makeup artist who's really kind and bubbly and he instantly gets a crush on them?

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ a night in paris ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut+swearing

-you went on a tour with the band and Ethan enjoyed Paris the most. Having your boyfriend all happy and excited turned out to be better then you expected.

ᑦ( •ᴥ• )ᐣ "The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind." ethan torchio x fem!reader | smut

-If acting unwise get's you places, maybe you're just pushing it to be on your knees.

thomas raggi

❤︎ ❥ "We passed 'just friends' about 20 fucks ago." thomas raggi x reader | angst, fluff, smut

❤︎ ❥ sanremo. thomas raggi x gn!reader | swearing, slightly sugggestive

-ever the supportive boyfriend, thomas indulges you in a sanremo 2023 watch party.

#maneskin x reader #maneskin #måneskin #måneskin x reader #måneskin imagine #maneskin imagine #vic de angelis x reader #vic de angelis #damiano david #damiano david x reader #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #smut #maneskin smut #fic recs